Page 7

CHAPTER 7

THE NEXT MORNING

SHANNON

F ive minutes. The whole freak rainstorm lasted maybe five minutes.

I don’t even know if anyone else in Nuit is aware it happened. It was the weirdest thing. For the first time since I’ve been in the village, no one else was around in the square. And, sure, Nuit isn’t anything like New York where the city never sleeps. It’s just that I expected to see someone, anyone else rushing outside to watch the rain fall.

It’s like rubbernecking. You can’t help yourself. You just have to stare. I’m telling you, if lava started falling from the sky back home, my nose would be plastered to the window. And when it stopped as suddenly as it started, I’d be one of the first ones out the door.

After Mrs. Winslow, of course. That old biddy might’ve risked getting petrified to be the first one to know what’s going on, but that’s my point. Human and demon nature aren’t that different. Even if most of the villagers have no idea that the prophecy about Alana involves a rain that puts out Sombra’s fires for once and for all, erasing its shadows at the same time, it’s gotta be something unusual to break up what has to be the monotony of immortality.

Nope. As though they all had a nice sleep and woke up having no clue what Mal and Alana and I witnessed last night, everyone is going about, business as usual today.

I barely slept at all. Seeing that I was shaky as fuck, Mal gave up on going to see Apollyon last night once Alana settled down and the rain just… stopped. He looped his arm around me, turning solid so that he had a firm hand to guide me inside. I held tightly to Alana, refusing to even entertain putting her down again until Mal gently pointed out that she had fallen asleep.

My mate eased our baby out of my arms, laying her out in her crib. The two of us watched her sleep for a few seconds before I let him lead me to bed.

He curled his big body around me, absently stroking my sunflower tat on my upper arm while I confessed that I didn’t believe it could really happen. I had tricked myself into believing that the prophecy was nonsense. That, even if it was real—and I wasn’t just taking the doppelseers’ word for it—the prophecy could take centuries before it unfolded.

The Sombrans are immortal, right? Who said that this responsibility belonged to a four-month-old baby? Why couldn’t Alana be, like, six hundred before the rain came?

Malphas laid there with me, letting my insecurities and fears spill from me in a panicked rant. His touch never slowed, and I realize why when he reminds me that he was once the subject of a prophecy by another, less powerful clan seer. When he was much younger, he was told that he would find his one true mate in a female full of magic that blooms in the sun. He never knew what that meant—mainly because Sombra is a demon realm with two moons and no visible sun—but when he took my essence and got that download of English into his brain, he knew. From the moment I told him my ink was of a sunflower, he knew that his prophecy had come true. Up until then, it didn’t even occur to him that he would be meant for a human woman since he interpreted ‘sun’ to mean the gold moon and the seer didn’t correct him, and I clung to the idea that Alana’s prophecy could be misunderstood, too.

Even if it isn’t, my point still stands. Mal was over a thousand when he found me. We should have more time.

And maybe we do.

Just like I soothed Alana, my mate makes it his job to calm me down. He reminds me that rain isn’t impossible in Sombra, just not common, and while it usually evaporates before it hits the ash, it might all have been a fluke.

To be honest, it wasn’t the rain that had me so worked-up. It’s easy to latch onto it and blame the weather when watching my daughter cry real tears for the first time messed me up. Add that to learning that Malphas had kept Haures’s monthly visits to see Alana from me and I didn’t know what to think. I understand why he did it. In his sweet way, Mal is as protective of me and our baby as I am. From the duke’s experiences, Mal guessed that some of the villagers might side-eye Alana because of her lack of shadows.

I just… it might’ve been nice if he told me.

Now that I do know, that’s an easy problem to fix. You don’t like my baby? Fuck you. It’s as simple as that. There are plenty of villagers who dote on her and enjoy having humans to add a little spice and variety to Nuit. For those that don’t, they can stay away from the EL, me, and my family.

Because Shannon is in Sombra for good, and now that there’s no denying that the prophecy isn’t something to mess around with, I’m going to do anything I can to save this world. Not for them. Like I said, fuck ‘em. But Sombra is Mal’s home. Alana’s, too. We have forever to show the bigots the mistakes they made in doubting my daughter.

Hell, I’m a petty bitch. Nothing is better than showing the haters that I’m thriving and surviving.

So, forgiving Mal and telling him that we’re in this together, I finally managed to get a few hours down before Alana woke up, cooing and waiting for her morning feeding.

Mal got her for me, hovering as though concerned she would start crying again—and that the rain would start shortly after. Considering he confessed that he believed the two incidents were related last night, I’m a little worried myself, but Alana is in a fantastic mood.

And, honestly? It’s tough to hang on to my foul, anxious one when she’s around.

Malphas seems happier, too, for the first part of the day. Through breakfast and our morning family time, I could sense him getting withdrawn until he finally stood up from the table and told me it was time to go see Apollyon.

I almost insist on going with him. I wouldn’t mind talking to Lilith since I haven’t had a chance to bring up the whole ‘villagers being dicks to Alana’ thing that started this whole mess. However, if it turns out that Alana’s tears are the reason it rained, I feel a little better about keeping her at home in case Apollyon decides to narc on me and get in touch with Haures.

Then again, now that I know he’s been making these monthly visits, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already preparing to stop by today...

Luckily for me, we might’ve dodged a bullet. Apollyon acknowledged that he knew about the storm, but since it was over almost as soon as it began—to the clan leader, maybe, since it seemed like an eternity to me while it was happening—he decided that it was just bad luck rather than the prophecy kicking into gear.

Did he report to the duke? Probably, but if they’re all acting like everything’s hunky-dory, I’ll go along with it, too…

“Oh,” Malphas says to me, drawing my attention back to him and out of my own head, “I almost forgot to mention it. On my way back from meeting with Apollyon, I saw Dagon.”

“Dagon?” I echo.

“And Sammael.”

Wait… “Sammael? Not Sierra?”

He understands my confusion immediately. “Ah. His mate. No, she’s here as well. She’s visiting with Azazel.” Then, anticipating my next question, he adds, “Hope has gone with her. Sammael assured me that he and his mate have not changed their mind about having spawn of their own, but Hope has come with Sierra for…” He pauses, wrinkling his forehead so that his ridges are more pronounced. “Mortal support.”

“Moral support,” I correct with a slight tease. “Smart, you know, bringing another chick in with her. It’s probably easier for the healer to check her v-jay out without her protective mate growling softly somewhere behind him.”

“I apologize, my mate. I didn’t like another male seeing your cunt.”

“Don’t be sorry. I like that side of you.” I raise my eyebrows. “Turns me on.”

Mal’s eyes flared like a yellow traffic light. “Where is Alana?” he rumbles.

“Down for a nap. She should be sleeping for the next hour or so.”

His lips curve, his fangs so incredibly erotic as he widens his smile. “I don’t have any painting to do for the afternoon. Are you heading to the library?”

After yesterday, I decided I need a small break from the EL. “Nope.”

He moves into me, laying his big, warm hand possessively on my hip. “Maybe we can go to bed, too. For maybe an hour or so.”

In answer to his tempting proposition, I go up on my tiptoes, clutching him by the back of his neck so that I can kiss him. Mal groans into my mouth, tugging me toward him as he deepens the kiss. I let him, and I nearly decide to say ‘screw it’ and lead him upstairs, but then I hear high-pitched laughter coming from near the house and, sorry, Mal.

I pull back, moving my hand so that I’m patting his cheek. “Raincheck?”

His brows draw together, the lusty daze in his eyes sharpening at my flippant question.

Huh. Oh. Right.

Rain .

“Sorry. Bad choice of words. I mean, later? I’d like to go outside and see if I can find them for a chat.”

“I’d do anything for you, my Shannon?—”

Including suffering with a hard-on until it deflates because sex can wait a little bit longer, huh?

I drop my hand, patting the space behind his pecs. I tap the A as she says, she loves her nephew and nieces to pieces, but never wanted any kids of her own. Sierra is about halfway through her pregnancy, only recently starting to show, but since she’s probably the most photographed woman in the world, it was definitely a big bombshell that she’s giving up her touring life, especially when it was obvious that it was due to settling down and starting a family at the height of her career.

That’s right. Whiskey Rose herself, America’s pop princess, is mated to a red-eyed Sombra demon hunter named Dagon. She’s pregnant with his kid—and I can only imagine the online speculation about who the father must be—and would never have been able to hide it as easily as I did.

Hope, on the other hand, is a sweet if a little scatter-brained librarian from central New Jersey. Poor girl thought she was being haunted because the Grimoire du Sombra was following her around. In reality, since her mage mate, Sammael, was technically a ghost at the time after he tried to cast the matefinder spell himself and he was the one trying to get her to read the verus amor spell to summon him to her, she was being haunted.

I didn’t know that, though. When I first met her, Sammael had been taken from her home in the same enchanted gold chains that he once threatened my mate with. She drove all the way from Westfield to Jericho to bring the spellbook back to Turn the Page, hoping Kennedy could help. Sorry. She was already living her HEA with Loki, while I was the lucky chick who had to help her save her mate.

So… yeah. Not a big fan of Sammael because, like with Glaine, your girl holds a grudge. Loki’s just lucky that I found it in me to forgive him for ramming Mal with his horns, but that’s because of Kennedy. I like Hope. If we ever get as close as me and Ken, I might soften toward her mate.

Glaine, though? Billie’s awesome, but the grumpy guard hasn’t got a prayer.

Malphas likes him. My Mal likes everyone .

And that gives me an idea.

“Why don’t you go talk to Dagon and Sammael? Keep them company while I got catch up with Hope and Sierra?”

A soft acquiescing sigh from my big demon mate because he says, “Glaine had already found his way over. Loki took Sammael with him, heading off somewhere to talk ‘mage’, but Glaine was sent to speak with the hunter.”

Sent … “Billie made him go?”

I thought I saw their downstairs light on last night. Interesting that the head of Haures’s guard was in Nuit before the rain, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he sticks around now after it.

Then Haures doesn’t have to make an appearance at all, does he?

Malphas nods.

I grin. “Perfect! I’ll go wait outside until I see the girls, and you keep Dagon and Glaine company while we have a little girl talk. And,” I say, before he can ask, “I’ll stay right by the house so I’ll know if Alana cries.”

We left the window open slightly after the rainstorm. I didn’t bother closing it when I noticed as I was putting her down to nap. Now I’m glad I didn’t because, this way, if she wakes up, I’ll hear her and can go right to her.

My mate knows when he’s beat.

With a nod, he runs the side of his shadow claw against the edge of my jaw. “As you wish, my Shannon.”