Page 220 of Shadowblood Souls: The Complete Series

Six

Riva

B y the time we’ve finished one final extended planning session around the dining table, a dull ache has formed behind my forehead. It’s only late afternoon, the sunlight turning amber beyond the windows, but I feel as if I’ve been up for days.

Rollick stands first with a brisk swipe of his hands. “We’ll see if that last associate of mine can make it here to smooth along our plans overnight. Either way, we head over to stake out the fortress first thing in the morning. Get plenty of sleep, those of you who need it.”

I push back my chair and pull out the phone he gave me. I haven’t used it for much so far other than checking the news, which is what I pull up now.

At the headlines that appear on the screen, my pulse stutters. Dominic catches my expression and leans close. “What’s wrong?”

I swallow thickly. “Three more attacks. Paris, Toronto, and Singapore. At least a dozen dead and tons more injured from all of them.”

Andreas sidles over, slipping his hand around my elbow. “Has anyone looked into Balthazar yet?”

I tap in a search and bite my lip as I scan the results. “It doesn’t look like it. Maybe the guy I gave his name to didn’t hear me properly. Or maybe he didn’t even listen, he was so sure we were part of the problem.”

Jacob joins our huddle, his mouth twisting with a scowl. “We should tell them again. Email all the news stations what we know.”

“I don’t think they’d believe it.” I flick through more articles. “They’re still talking as if there aren’t real ‘monsters,’ only some terrorist group that’s using it as a moniker with special effects to make them seem supernatural.”

One of the shadowkind women has picked up on our conversation. Her head jerks toward us, and she rubs the bark-like skin on her forearms. “We want it to stay that way. You can’t tell them about shadowkind. It’s bad enough when any mortals get it into their head to come after us.”

“I don’t think we need to worry about that,” Rollick says smoothly, inserting himself into our midst. “I’ve learned to never underestimate the human capacity for pretending away things they’d rather not accept.”

He fixes his gaze on me. “I have a little more work for you to do before you get your rest for the night.”

Even though I groan at the thought, I straighten my posture, wanting to put on a good front for the watching shadowkind. I know plenty of them are still skeptical about accepting us into their community.

We’ve got to show we’re pulling our own weight, fighting our own battles.

“What’s that?” I ask.

The demon motions for me to follow him. “Better done in private. But your three boyfriends here can come along too. They’ll make a good selection.” He pauses, glancing at Dominic. “And we may need that healing power. I’ve got a room with a few potted plants.”

Dominic gives him a tight smile. “That’s all I need.”

The guys and I tramp after Rollick through the gleaming halls of his mansion and into a small sitting room. Well, small by the mansion’s standards—it’s still several times bigger than the cell I was confined in back in the guardians’ facility.

The room holds a loveseat and a couple of chairs, a secretary desk, and a small patio-style table.

It feels like the kind of space where people might come to eat breakfast or sip tea while gazing out at the view over the grounds outside.

There are, as Rollick promised, a few large, leafy plants rising from pots along the wall.

There are also two shadowkind men standing by the loveseat—men I know are among Rollick’s closest associates but haven’t had much of a chance to talk to outside of our strategizing sessions.

The slimmer, younger-looking man grins at us, his expression as energetic as the wild tumble of his black curls. If I remember right, his name is Lance. It suits him, considering that his most distinguishing feature are those long, vicious-looking claws that protrude from his fingertips.

His companion looks equally intimidating with the square, stony jaw that juts from his face even more strikingly than the rest of his burly physique. It’s not hard to see the gargoyle in Crag even when he’s in human-like form.

Lance bobs on his feet as if he’s getting psyched up for a sports game. “Are we going to start right away?”

I turn to Rollick, my stomach making a seasick sort of lurch. “Start what? What’s this about?”

If it requires help from Mr. Claws and Gargoyle Guy, it must be more intense than I assumed.

Rollick drops into one of the armchairs and leans back to take us all in. His speculative expression only increases my apprehension.

The demon clasps his hands together on his lap and offers me a small smile. “Your talents are a major keystone in our plans to take on this genocidal maniac. How often have you used your banshee scream on shadowkind or your fellow shadowbloods?”

My skin goes cold. “I— There was that time when Kudzu and Cinder attacked us, and I stopped them…” And nearly mangled Billy beyond repair when he rushed in trying to help us. Just remembering that moment makes me twice as queasy.

Rollick nods. “And your friends?”

“Never.” I almost did, once, when Jacob’s early cruelties pushed me close to the breaking point. Instead, I ran away from the possibility of hurting them and got myself hit by a train.

A fact Jake also recalls all too well, I suspect. He steps forward as if he thinks he needs to shield me. “What are you getting at? Of course Riva doesn’t attack people who don’t deserve it.”

The demon gives him a measured look. “All of you will be up against fellow shadowbloods when we go for Balthazar. Potentially a shadowkind or two as well, since we’ve determined that he’s coerced at least a few into working for him.”

His gaze slides back to me. “Have you used your banshee skill at all in the past several days? The regular shriek or the new silent version?”

I shake my head slowly, hating the direction of this conversation more with each word that’s spoken.

“Well, then,” Rollick says. “You should test your limits. See how much pressure you need to apply when it comes to beings with some supernatural defenses—how quickly you can affect them—that sort of thing.”

I can’t restrain a shudder. “What? I’m not going to hurt?—”

He holds up his hand to stop my protest. “I’m not asking you to maim them.

Freeze them in place. Feel out where the edge of your ability is, where you’d be able to hurt them.

Give them a papercut—you’ve got your healer standing by.

I’m sure they’ll recover just fine. And then you’ll be properly prepared when it really counts. ”

My throat constricts. That’s why he wanted Jacob and Andreas to come along too—why Lance and Crag are here. Rollick expects me to aim my torturous shriek at them.

Every particle in my body balks at the idea. But I balk against refusing too.

I argued with the demon about testing my powers back when we were first traveling with him. My shaky control is part of the reason I wasn’t able to pull back from wrenching Billy apart in time to save him from those injuries.

Dominic won’t be able to heal the shadowkind men if I hurt them that badly. He helped Billy a little, but the shadowy essence that makes up their inner workings limited what his talents can do.

I can’t let that stop me. Shying away from the brutality inside me has never worked in my favor in the long run.

Do I want to rush into Balthazar’s fortress and watch the guys beside me cut down because I didn’t realize how forcefully I needed to project my power?

For all I know, I won’t be able to tackle fellow shadowbloods with my silent scream at all. It would be useful to know if I should go straight to using my voice. And at lower levels of power, I can simply lock people in place, before I get to the point of maiming them.

It’s not as if I can’t control it enough to make sure I don’t outright kill anyone.

My teeth have gritted. I force them apart. “Fine. How do you think we should start?”

Rollick tips his head toward his shadowkind companions. “Why don’t you begin with these louts? Full shadowkind should be trickier than hybrids, and they’ll heal faster. You’ll have a better idea how to moderate yourself with your men afterward.”

A flicker of doubt crosses Lance’s face. “The scream—it doesn’t make people do things under your control, does it?”

“No,” I say quickly. “If it works, it’ll lock you in place so you can’t move, and I might do a little damage accidentally, but I can’t force you to walk or talk or anything.”

His momentary tension vanishes behind another grin. “All right, then.”

Crag squares his bulky shoulders, his voice a low rumble. “I’m ready.”

I wish I was. I inhale deeply and reach down to the vibration of energy that’s always inside me, if faint when I’m not angry.

It doesn’t take much to stir up the hunger for pain. I prod it with memories of the destruction I’ve seen on the news, of the murders Balthazar committed before my eyes and the ones he threatened.

The vicious, starving thing resonates up from my chest to the back of my mouth. But I’m not going to let it out that way, not if I don’t have to.

I hold myself rigidly under control, aware of my targets while I train my focus, and hone my thoughts into the thinnest possible shriek that I aim at the figures in front of me.

With mortals—humans or animals—I think it’d be enough to freeze them in place. The two shadowkind men only twitch at my efforts. Lance tilts his head, proving he’s not frozen yet.

So Rollick was right. It is going to take more oomph for my powers to affect shadowkind.

I don’t know if we’ll encounter any at Balthazar’s fortress, but I need to be ready either way.

My muscles tensing, I push my silent scream harder and louder inside my head. Ramping it up by careful degrees, hoping I won’t accidentally make too large a leap.

Nothing happens.

My eyes snap shut of my own accord. I feel the shadowkind across the room from me, two solid presences, and shriek with an extra jolt of might.

Finally, the scream connects. My mind floods with the awareness of their bodies, every bit of bone and flesh I could break to deal out the agony my monstrous side craves. Just a sip?—

It happens so fast I can’t catch it in time. The knuckle of a little finger cracks.

I wrench my attention away and yank my eyelids open to see Lance holding up his hand, eyeing it with an air of curiosity even though his jaw has tightened. His smallest finger juts at an unnatural angle.

Even as my stomach flips over, Dominic hurries to the shadowkind’s side. “Here,” he says, reaching for Lance’s hand. “I don’t even need the plants to mend this small an injury.”

Lance lets out a dry chuckle and looks past Dom to where I’m standing. “That’s some tricksy talent you’ve got there. I’m glad we’re on your side.”

“Me too,” I mumble. “I’m sorry.”

Rollick waves off my concern. “It’s fine. You did well. He can endure a lot worse than a broken finger. Now let’s see if you can inflict your power without any wounds this time.”

Again? A shiver runs down my spine, but I swallow my protests.

I have to get this right. I have to prove that I won’t make a mistake like I did with Billy—to our reluctant allies and to myself.

My second silent scream works faster, because I know approximately how much more force I need to put into it, but I keep an even tighter rein. It wraps around the shadowkind men, but I manage to resist the temptation of their tender points.

The headache that started earlier is expanding across my skull. On my third try, I test how it works when I let out a whisper of sound instead of keeping my mouth shut.

A cut opens between Crag’s thumb and forefinger. I clamp down on the urge to drink in more pain, flattening the shriek so it’s barely audible at all and then cutting it off when I’m sure I’m controlling it.

Dominic motions to the gargoyle, but Crag lifts his arm toward me first, sending a tiny wisp of his smoky essence into the air. Shadowkind don’t bleed at all, at least not anything resembling mortal blood.

“Nothing but a scratch,” he says.

I swipe my sweaty palms against my pants, dreading the next step but knowing I have to get there eventually, and meet Rollick’s gaze. “I think I have a pretty good sense of what it’s like with shadowkind now.”

He inclines his head. “Then we should move on to shadowbloods.”

Jacob marches into the middle of the room in front of me with no further prompting. He stations himself with his arms crossed over his chest and his chin firm. “You need this, Wildcat. Making sure you’ll be at the top of your game is worth a little pain.”

Andreas gets into position beside him, his posture relaxed but his gray eyes dark. “Don’t worry about us,” he tells me. “We can handle it.”

They shouldn’t have to. But it’s almost definite that I’ll be fighting other shadowbloods at some point. I need as clear an idea as possible of how to handle them if I’m going to take them out quickly—and avoid breaking my own men in the process.

I start with the silent shriek again, tentative at first. My sense of the guys’ bodies sharpens immediately, but I can’t tell if that’s only because of the innate connection we share.

It isn’t enough to trap them. Jacob adjusts his weight on his feet as if to show that he’s still mobile.

My fingers curl into my palms, my claws itching at the tips. I ramp up my mental scream a little farther, and a little farther again, and?—

Jacob and Andreas jerk and stiffen. Even as I reel back the force of the shriek, a waft of pain hits me, the hunger inside me absorbing it with sickening eagerness.

Drey’s foot. When I release them, he stumbles—but Dominic is there to catch him.

Andreas can’t contain a hiss as he sinks onto the loveseat. A burn forms behind my eyes as I watch Dom seal the bones and sinews I fractured.

Even with the men I love, some part of me is happy to hurt them.

Rollick clears his throat. “How did that compare to the shadowkind?”

I blink, willing back the tears, and do my best to even out my voice. “Easier than with them, but still harder than regular people. I’ll probably want to use my voice if I need to hit hard and fast and I don’t need to be totally stealthy about it.”

The demon hums to himself. “That makes sense. It seems wise to attempt a few more trial runs, don’t you think?”

Jacob nods, holding my gaze steadily.

Andreas is already pushing back to his feet. “I’m good; I’m good. No sweat.”

It takes me a moment to clear the blur of moisture from my eyes. I’m doing this for them, I remind myself. So that when it’s actually life or death, I’ll deal out death where it belongs.

“Okay,” I say with a rasp. “From the top.”

If we do this right, as soon as tomorrow there could be no more need for carnage.