Shadow Kissed E-Book

Sarah Piper

• Herausgeber: Two Gnomes Media
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

A witch outrunning her past. Five smoldering-hot guardians. And the dark secret that could destroy them all… 

Blackmoon Bay is a city of monsters. Surviving here means never leaving home without a sharp stake. It means keeping secrets, even from friends. And unless I want the hunters finding me again, it means my witchcraft stays on permanent lockdown. 

Good policy—until the night I accidentally resurrect a dead girl, rekindling my magic and drawing the Bay’s most dangerous men to my doorstep. 

Asher, the bad-boy incubus. Darius, the cunning, oh-so-sexy vampire. Emilio, the wolf shifter with a big heart and a treacherous past. Ronan, the only demon I trust with my soul. And Death himself, bound to my magic for reasons I don’t understand.

Together, they’ve sworn to protect me from the evil out there, but it’s not the evil out there I’m worried about. 

A shadow lurks inside me, as black and deadly as a bomb. 

And I’m pretty sure my magical mishap just lit the fuse.

Leseprobe

Shadow Kissed

The Witch’s Rebels, Book One

Copyright © 2018 by Sarah Piper

SarahPiperBooks.com

Published by Two Gnomes Media

Cover design by Two Gnomes Media

All rights reserved. With the exception of brief quotations used for promotional or review purposes, no part of this book may be recorded, reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the express permission of the author.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, businesses, organizations, brands, media, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

v18

E-book ISBN: 978-1-948455-37-4

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-948455-06-0

Audiobook ISBN: 978-1-977389-14-5

Contents

Book Series by Sarah Piper

Get Connected!

About Shadow Kissed

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Origins of The Witch’s Rebels

About Sarah Piper

Book Series by Sarah Piper

M/F Romance Series

Monstrous Obsessions

Vampire Royals of New York

Reverse Harem Romance Series

Claimed by Gargoyles

The Witch’s Monsters

Tarot Academy

The Witch’s Rebels

Get Connected!

I love connecting with readers! There are a few different ways you can keep in touch:

Email: [email protected]

TikTok: @sarahpiperbooks

Facebook group: Sarah Piper’s Sassy Witches

Twitter: @sarahpiperbooks

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About Shadow Kissed

A witch outrunning her past. Five smoldering-hot guardians. And the dark secret that could destroy them all…

Blackmoon Bay is a city of monsters. Surviving here means never leaving home without a sharp stake. It means keeping secrets, even from friends. And unless I want the hunters finding me again, it means my witchcraft stays on permanent lockdown.

Good policy—until the night I accidentally resurrect a dead girl, rekindling my magic and drawing the Bay’s most dangerous men to my doorstep.

Asher, the bad-boy incubus. Darius, the cunning, oh-so-sexy vampire. Emilio, the wolf shifter with a big heart and a treacherous past. Ronan, the only demon I trust with my soul. And Death himself, bound to my magic for reasons I don’t understand.

Together, they’ve sworn to protect me from the evil out there, but it’s not the evil out there I’m worried about.

A shadow lurks inside me, as black and deadly as a bomb.

And I’m pretty sure my magical mishap just lit the fuse.

I’m Gray Desario. Witch. Survivor. Occasional bringer of chaos. And tonight? The darkness is coming…

Shadow Kissed is also available in audionarrated by Tristan James and Aletha George!

One

Gray

Survival instinct was a powerful thing.

What horrors could we endure, could we accept, could we embrace in the name of staying alive?

Hunger. Brutality. Desperation.

Being alone.

I’d been alone for so long I’d almost forgotten what it was like to love, to trust, to look into the eyes of another person and feel a spark of something other than fear.

Then they came into my life.

Each one as damaged and flawed as I was, yet somehow finding a way through the cracks in my walls, slowly breaking down the bricks I’d so carefully built around my heart.

Despite their differences, they’d come together as my protectors and friends for reasons I still didn’t fully understand. And after everything we’d been through, I had no doubts about who they were to me now. To each other.

Family.

I didn’t know what the future held; I’d given up trying to predict it years ago. But I didn’t need my Tarot cards or my mother’s old crystal ball to know this:

For me, there was no future without them. Without my rebels.

“Gray?” His whisper floated to my ears.

After several heartbeats, I took a deep breath and opened my eyes.

I heard nothing, saw nothing, felt nothing but the demon imprisoned before me, pale and shattered, fading from this realm.

“Whatever you’re thinking,” he said, his head lolling forward, “don’t.”

Looking at him chained to the chair, bruises covering his face, blood pouring from the gashes in his chest, I strengthened my resolve.

His voice was faint, his body broken, his essence dimming. But the fire in his eyes blazed as bright as it had the day we’d met.

“Whatever horrible things you’ve heard about me, Cupcake, they’re all true…”

“Please,” he whispered, almost begging now. “I’m not worth…”

His words trailed off into a cough, blood spraying his lips.

I shook my head. He was wrong. He was more than worth it. Between the two of us, maybe only one would make it out of this room alive. If that were true, it had to be him; I couldn’t live in a world where he didn’t exist. Where any of them didn’t exist.

This was my fate. My purpose. My gift.

There was no going back.

I held up my hands, indigo flames licking across my palms, surging bright in the darkness.

The demon shuddered as I reached for him, and I closed my eyes, sealing away the memory of his ocean-blue gaze, knowing it could very well be the last time I saw it.

Two

Gray

2 Weeks Earlier…

Don’t act like prey, and you won’t become it. Don’t act like prey…

Whispering my usual mantra, I locked up the van and pushed my rusty hand truck down St. Vincent Avenue, scanning the shadows for trouble.

It’d rained earlier, and mist still clung to the streets, rising into the dark autumn night like smoke. It made everything that much harder to see.

Fortunately, it was my last delivery of the night, and I’d brought along my favorite traveling companions—a sharp stake in my waistband and a big-ass hunting knife in my boot. Still, danger had a way of sneaking up on a girl in Blackmoon Bay’s warehouse district, which was why most people avoided it.

If I hadn’t needed the money—and a boss who paid in cash and didn’t ask questions about my past—I would’ve avoided it, too.

Alas…

Snuggling deeper into my leather jacket, I banked left at the next alley and rolled to a stop in front of the unmarked service entrance to Black Ruby. My hand truck wobbled under the weight of its cargo—five refrigerated cases of O-positive and three AB-negative, fresh from a medical supplier in Vancouver.

Yeah, Waldrich’s Imports dealt in some weird shit, but human cops didn’t bother with the warehouse district, and the Fae Council that governed supernaturals didn’t get involved with the Bay’s black market. The only time they cared was when a supernatural killed a human, and sometimes—depending on the human—not even then.

Thumbing through my packing slips, I hoped the vampires weren’t too thirsty tonight. Half their order had gotten snagged by customs across the bay in Seattle.

I also hoped someone other than Darius Beaumont would sign for this. I could hold my own with most vamps, but Black Ruby’s owner definitely struck me as the shoot-the-messenger type.

No matter how sexy he is…

Wrapping one hand discretely around my stake, I reached up to hit the buzzer, but a faint cry from the far end of the alley stopped me.

“Don’t! Please!”

“Settle down, sweetheart,” a man said, the menace in his voice a sick contrast to the terrified tremble in hers.

My heart rate spiked.

Abandoning my delivery, I scooted along the building’s brick exterior, edging closer to the struggle. I spotted the girl first—she couldn’t have been more than fifteen, sixteen at most, with lanky brown hair and the pale, haunted features of a blood slave.

But it wasn’t a vampire that’d lured her out for a snack.

The greasy dude who’d cornered her was a hundred percent human—just another pervert in dirty jeans and a sweat-stained henley who clearly thought runaway kids were an easy mark.

“It’ll all be over soon,” he told her.

Yeah, sooner than you think…

Anger coiled in my belly, fizzing the edges of my vision. I couldn’t decide who deserved more of my ire—the asshole threatening her now, or the parents who’d abandoned her in the first place.

Far as I was concerned, they were the same breed of evil.

“Well now. Must be my lucky night.” The man barked out a wheezing laugh, and too late, I realized I’d been spotted. “Two for the price of one. Come on over here, Blondie. Don’t be shy.”

Shit. I’d hesitated too long, let my emotions get the best of me when I should’ve been working that knife out of my boot.

Fear leaked into my limbs, and for a brief instant, I felt my brain and body duking it out. Fight or flight, fight or flight…

No. I couldn’t leave her. Not like that.

“Let her go,” I said, brandishing my stake.

He yanked the kid against his chest, one meaty hand fisting her blue unicorn hoodie, the other curling around her throat. Fresh urine soaked her jeans.

“Drop your little stick and come over here,” the man said, “or I’ll break her neck.”

My mind raced for an alternative, but there was no time. I couldn’t risk going for the knife. Couldn’t sneak up on him. And around here, screaming for help could attract a worse kind of attention.

Plan B it is.

“Alright, big guy. You win.” I dropped the stake and smiled, sidling toward him with all the confidence I could muster, which wasn’t much, considering how hard I was shaking. “What are you doing with a scrawny little kid, anyway?”

He looked at the kid, then back at me, his lecherous gaze burning my skin. The stench of cigarettes and cheap booze lingered on his breath, like old fish and sour milk.

“I’ve got everything you need right here,” I purred, choking back bile as I unzipped my jacket. “Unless you’re not man enough to handle it?”

His gaze roamed my curves, eyes dark with lust.

“You’re about to find out,” he warned. “Ain’t ya?”

He shoved the kid away, and in one swift move, he grabbed me and spun me around, pinning me face-first against the bricks.

He was a hell of a lot faster than I’d given him credit for.

“So you’re an all talk, no action kind of bitch?” He wrenched my arms behind me, the intense pain making my eyes water. His sour breath was hot on the back of my neck, his hold impossibly strong, my knife impossibly out of reach. “That ends now.”

A few blocks off, an ambulance screamed into the night, but it wasn’t coming for us. The kid and I were on our own.

“Mmm. You got some ass on you, girl.” He shoved a hand into the back pocket of my jeans and grabbed a handful of my flesh. “I like that in a woman.”

Of course you do.

After all these years making illegal, late-night deliveries to the seediest supernatural haunts in town, this wasn’t my first rodeo. The one-liners, the threats, the grabby hands… Human or monster, guys like this never managed to deviate from the standard dickhole playbook.

But this was the first guy who’d actually pinned me to a wall.

At least he’d ditched the kid. I tried to get her attention now, to urge her to take off, but she’d tucked herself behind a Dumpster, paralyzed with fear.

The man pressed his greasy lips to my ear. “No more bullshit, witch.”

You don’t know the half of it, asshole.

He didn’t—that much was obvious. Just another dude with a tiny dick who tossed around the word “witch” like an insult.

My vision flickered again, rage boiling up inside, clawing at my insides like a caged animal searching for weak points.

It wanted out.

I took a deep breath, dialed it back down to a simmer.

God, I would’ve loved to light him up—spell his ass straight to oblivion. But I hadn’t kept my mojo on lockdown for damn near a decade just to risk exposure for this prick.

So magic was out. I couldn’t reach my knife. And my top-notch negotiating skills had obviously failed.

Fuck diplomacy.

I let my head slump forward in apparent defeat.

Then slammed it backward, right into his chin.

He grunted and staggered back, but before I could spin around or reach for my knife, he was on me again, fisting my hair and shoving my face against the wall.

“Nice try, little cunt. Now you eat brick.”

“Don’t!” the girl squeaked. “Just… just let us go.”

“Aw, that’s cute.” He let out a satisfied moan, like he’d just discovered the last piece of cake in the fridge. “You’ll get your turn, baby.”

Okay, she’d saved me from a serious case of brick-rash—not to mention a possible skull fracture—but now she was back on his radar. And I still couldn’t get to the knife.

Time for plan B. Or was this C?

Fuck it.

“Hey. I’ve got some money,” I said. “Let us go, and it’s yours.”

“Yeah?” He perked up at that. “How much we talkin’?”

“Like I said—some.”

Lie. At the moment, I was loaded. Most of the $3,000 I’d already collected tonight was in the van, wrapped in a McDonald’s bag and shoved under the seat. I also had $200 in a baggie inside my boot and another $800 in my bra, because I believed in diversifying my assets.

My commission depended on me getting the cash and van back to the docks without incident. I couldn’t afford incidents. Rent was due tomorrow, and Sophie had already covered me last month.

But I couldn’t—wouldn’t—risk him hurting the kid.

“It’s in my boot,” I said. “Left one.”

“We’ll see about that, Blondie.” He yanked me away from the wall and shoved me to the ground, wet pavement biting into the heels of my hands.

With a boot to my back, he pushed me flat on my stomach, then crouched down and grabbed my wrists, pinning them behind me with one of his meaty hands. With his free hand, he bent my leg back and yanked off my boot.

Bastard.

“I hope you feel good about your life choices,” I grumbled.

Another wheezing laugh rattled through his chest, and he coughed. “Choice ain’t got nothin’ to do with it.”

Whatever. I waited until he saw the baggie with the cash, let him get distracted and stupid over his small victory.

The instant he released my wrists and went for the money, I pushed up on all fours and slammed my other boot heel straight into his teeth.

The crunch of bone was pure music, but his howl of agony could’ve called the wolves.

I had just enough time to flip over and scamper to my feet before he rose up and charged, pile-driving me backward into the wall. The wind rushed out of my lungs on impact, but I couldn’t give up. I had to keep fighting. Had to make sure he wouldn’t hurt the girl.

I clawed at his face and shoved a knee into his groin, but damn it—I couldn’t get enough leverage. His hands clamped around my throat, rage and fire in his eyes, blood pouring from his nose and mouth as he spat out broken teeth.

He cocked back an arm, but just before his fist connected, I went limp, dropping to the ground like a pile of rags.

The momentum of his swing threw him off balance, and I quickly ducked beneath his arms and darted behind him, crouching down and reaching for the sweet, solid handle of my knife.

“You can’t win,” he taunted as he turned to face me. Neither his injuries nor the newly acquired lisp diminished his confidence. “I’m bigger, stronger, and I ain’t got no qualms about hurting little cunts like you.”

Despite the tremble in my legs, I stood up straight, blade flashing in the moonlight.

“Whoa. Whoa!” Eyes wide, he raised his hands in surrender, slowly backing off. “Hand over the knife, sweetheart.”

“Not happening.”

“You’re gonna hurt yourself, waving around a big weapon like that.”

“Also not happening.”

“Look. You need to calm the fuck down before—” A coughing fit cut him short, and he leaned against the wall, one hand on his chest as he gasped for air.

I held the knife out in front of me, rock steady, finally getting my footing. Chancing a quick glance at the girl, I jerked my head toward the other end of the alley, willing her to bolt.

Her sudden, panicked gasp and a blur of movement beside me were all the warning I had before the dude slammed into me again, tackling me to the ground. My knife clattered away.

Straddling my chest, he cocked back an arm and offered a bloody, near-toothless smile. “Time to say goodnight, witch.”

“Leave her alone!” No more than another flash in my peripheral vision, the kid leaped out from behind the Dumpster, flinging herself at our attacker.

She scratched and punched for all she was worth, eyes blazing and wild. I’d never seen anyone so fierce.

But he simply batted her away like she was nothing. A fly. A gnat. A piece of lint.

She hit the ground hard.

I gasped, heart hammering in my chest, shock radiating through my limbs. She wasn’t a fly or a gnat. She was a fucking child in a unicorn hoodie, lost and scared and totally alone, and he’d thrown her down.

Just like that.

Still pinned in place, I couldn’t even see where she’d landed.

But I would never forget that sound. Her head hitting the pavement. The eerie silence that followed. Seconds later, another ambulance howled into the darkness, nowhere close enough to help.

“What did you do?” I screamed, no longer caring who or what might’ve heard me. “She’s just a kid!”

I clawed at the man’s chest, but I was pretty sure he’d already forgotten about me.

“No. No way. Fuck this bullshit.” He jumped up to his feet, staggered back a few steps, then took off without another word.

Still trying to catch my breath, I crawled over next to the girl, adrenaline chasing away my pain. Blood pooled beneath her head, spreading out like a dark halo. Her breathing was shallow.

“Hey. I’m right here,” I whispered. “It’s okay, baby.”

She was thin as a rail, her wet jeans and threadbare hoodie hanging off her shivering frame.

“Jesus, you’re freezing.” I shucked off my jacket and covered her body, careful not to move her. “He’s gone now. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

I swept the matted hair from her forehead. Her skin was clammy, her eyes glassy and unfocused, but she was still conscious. Still there, blinking up at me and the dark, cloudy sky above.

“What’s your name, sweet pea?” I asked.

Blink. Blink.

“Hon, can you tell me your name?”

She sucked in a breath. Fresh tears leaked from her eyes. That had to be a good sign, right?

“Um. Yeah,” she whispered. “It’s… Breanne?”

“Breanne?”

“Sometimes Bean.”

“Bean. That’s a great nickname.” I tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, my fingers coming away sticky with blood. “Hang in there, Bean. I’m going for help.”

“No! Don’t leave me here. I—” She reached for me, arms trembling, skin white as the moon. “Grape jelly. Grape—”

Grape jelly grape, she’d said. And then her eyes went wide, and I watched the spark in her go out.

Just like that.

“Bean!” I pressed my fingers beneath her jaw, then checked her wrist, desperate to find a pulse.

But it was too late.

Here in the middle of vamp central, the sweet kid in the unicorn hoodie—the one who’d ultimately saved my life—was dead.

Three

Gray

Murderer.

Guilt flooded my gut, hot and prickly.

She was just a kid. I was supposed to save her.

Instead, I’d gotten her killed.

I puked all over the front of my shirt.

This can’t be happening.

Think, Gray. Think.

Wiping my mouth on my sleeve, I returned my attention to her glassy eyes. Empty eyes.

Right now, more than anything, I wanted her alive. I wanted to take her to Luna’s Café for a cup of coffee and a hot meal, to teach her how to defend herself against vampires and rogue shifters and bad men hiding out in alleys. I wanted it with a deep and endless yearning, a soul-sucking desperation that felt like it was turning me inside out.

“Please, Bean. Please.” I stared into her vacant eyes. “Come back.”

Silence.

I reached forward again, grabbing her limp hand, but something felt… off. Like I was being watched. Trapped. I whipped my head around and scanned the end of the alley, peering into the misty darkness of the street beyond. An old car backfired nearby, making me flinch. But I saw nothing. Smelled nothing.

I turned back to Bean, my arms erupting in goosebumps. Instantly the temperature plummeted, turning my breath icy with frost.

The alley tilted sideways. I squeezed my eyes shut and felt an old, familiar rush, a pulsing heat gathering deep inside.

No. Not again…

I fought to resist it, but it called to me, warm and inviting where seconds ago I’d been shivering. I opened my eyes, the world spinning and blurring before me.

When it finally stopped, the alley was gone.

I was on my knees in a lush, moonlit forest, my hands full of rich earth.

There were no buildings here, no brick walls or vampires or greasy men. I was alone in the middle of nowhere, the only sound a gentle breeze whispering through a canopy of leaves. The soothing scents of lilac and lavender washed over me.

I know this place.

Rising slowly, I wiped my dirty hands on my jeans. Several paces ahead, indigo light pulsed, urging me forward along a path clogged with tangled vines and flowers so big their stems had bent beneath the weight.

Picking my way through the growth, I followed the light until I reached a small clearing surrounded by dense trees, darker and more ominous than the forest I’d been kneeling in. Nestled among the blackest branches, a hundred pairs of silver eyes glittered in the night.

Watching.

Not so alone after all…

At the center of the clearing, a chest-high pedestal made of smooth white stones rose out of the earth, vines twining through the gaps between the rocks. Here was the source of my seductive light—a pentacle etched into a stone slab balanced on top, glowing as if it had been carved with living, indigo fire.

Instinctively, I reached forward, my fingers slipping into the promise of warmth offered by the light. My skin tingled, but it wasn’t creepy or unpleasant; more like getting into a bath that’s just a little too hot—a surprise at first, then bliss.

“What is this place?” I whispered.

A soft breeze danced across my hair, bringing with it the lilac and lavender scent I knew so well. The answer was in my head, all around me, everywhere at once.

I knew. Remembered.

This was my place. My magic. My source.

The place of calm serenity I’d retreat to, deep inside myself, when my adopted mother Calla was first teaching me how to use my magic.

Some witches drew magical energy by visualizing their bodies extending into the earth, like the roots of a tree—Sophie was like that. Others got energy from the moon, or by raising a cone of power with other witches, or by performing rituals to call on the grace of their deities.

There were as many ways to access energy for magic as there were witches.

Me? I’d always come here to access it.

I hadn’t, though—not for over nine years.

But now I felt the magic humming through my veins again, waking up after its long nap.

“How is this possible?”

Behind me, the leaves rustled.

It felt so good, so right, such a part of me I wondered how I’d managed to go so long without it. Calla had always told me it was a rare and powerful witch who could generate her own magic energy, but once we figured out that it was my method, she’d done her best to teach me how to care for it, access it, and replenish it.

I’d loved coming here. Always. And for the first sixteen years of my life, I’d known it as well as I’d known my own face in the mirror.

But I was twenty-five now, and this place… It wasn’t exactly as I’d remembered.

Beneath the scent of lilac and lavender I’d always associated with my magic, something else lurked—a cloying, rotten scent I couldn’t quite place. Where once the path was clear and well-defined, edged in knee-high colorful blooms and ferns as soft as feathers, now it was wild and untamed. Uncontrolled. Before, there had been no eyes watching, glittering and unblinking in the pale moonlight. And out beyond the stone pedestal, the gentle rolling meadow so bright in my memory was now a gnarled, leafless forest. The trees were enshrouded in mist, their branches barren and broken.

It looked like a great black skeleton army on the march.

Nothing is static, a voice inside me said. All things must change.

As I peered into the dark wood, the bare trees began to shift, slowly revealing a new path. Something compelled me forward, though this path was narrower, the trees so closely packed their branches scraped my arms.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched—not just by the eyes of the forest, but by something else. Something sinister.

I will find you…

Rubbing the goosebumps from my arms, I hurried down the path toward another clearing, stopping before a stone archway choked with black vines and carved with glowing, silver-blue runes.

Enter, the trees seemed to whisper.

An iron gate appeared beneath the arch, and I wrenched it open and stepped through. Stars glittered in the night sky, but soon the shifting clouds obscured the view. The clearing before me darkened.

The trees were closing in.

Dense mist crept out from the forest and swirled around my ankles, and once again I was shivering. The black skeleton army stepped forward, and for the first time, I noticed the black-and-silver threads draped over their branches, swaying in the breeze like tinsel on a Christmas tree.

It was breathtaking.

As I watched, mesmerized, the bare black branches stretched forward, closing in around me. With the same instinctual movement that had guided me into the warm indigo light on the pedestal, I reached for the closest branch, twining my fingers with the cool, shimmering threads. They wound around my hands, instantly tightening, icy cold and wrong, wrong, wrong.

“No!” I jerked backward out of the mist and back through the gate, falling hard on my ass. The forest vanished on impact, the alley reappearing just as quickly. But this time, I was surrounded by a dome—some kind of iridescent shield. It glimmered like a soap bubble, blocking out the mist and the sounds of the warehouse district.

The tinsel-like threads had vanished from my hands, but my skin was streaked an oily black where they’d touched. When I turned my hands over, my palms ignited in dark indigo flames that licked the night air and cast the alley in a blue glow. The flames didn’t burn.

I gasped, turning to look at Bean. Silver mist poured from her mouth, shimmering in the darkness like the sheerest gossamer scarf.

Her soul.

On the pavement next to her, a raven appeared. He was more beast than bird, with opalescent black feathers and great golden eyes that held the wisdom of a creature a thousand times his age. I stared open-mouthed, my body frozen in shock. I knew the raven wasn't a real bird—not one that I could feel with my hands—but a shadow creature that by all accounts, I shouldn't be able to see.

He was a messenger. A ferrier of souls.

And the most magnificent, terrifying creature I had ever seen.

But I couldn’t let him take her. She wasn’t ready. Wasn’t so far gone she couldn’t be helped.

Possessed by some ancient, unnamed knowledge, I raised my flaming hands, horrified as they caught the edge of Bean’s soul. But instead of igniting, the misty fabric of her essence simply recoiled, slithering back into her mouth.

The raven disappeared.

The flames in my hands died out, the black streaks fading from my skin.

The shield dropped away.

“Bean!” I knelt beside her, pressing a hand to her forehead. She was even colder now. Her eyes were still open but covered with a sick, milky-white film shot through with tiny blue veins.

The sound of new breath sucking into her lungs nearly stopped my heart.

Bean gasped and sputtered, her legs twitching. Then she sat bolt upright.

I shot to my feet and stumbled backward, slamming into the wall behind me. Didn’t matter. For once, I was grateful for the pain. The bricks were reassuring against my shoulders, a piece of solid reality in a night that had gone utterly sideways.

Bean moaned, her curdled-milk eyes staring right through me.

My heart dropped into my stomach. Was she a zombie? A revenant? Whatever she was, I’d made her, and I’d done it with something dark. Other. Something festering inside me that I didn’t understand and absolutely did not want to fuck with.

Worse, I’d broken my only unbreakable rule. After nine-plus years of lying low—not even so much as a heat spell for my coffee or a money spell to help with rent—I’d just used my magic.

In a series of jerky, disjointed movements, the girl—creature—hauled herself up. She pinned me with those rheumy eyes, seething with an unspoken accusation.

You did this to me, witch.

I wanted to bolt—every instinct inside me shouted at me to get away—but I couldn’t. I let her approach, shuffling and awkward, my own body paralyzed with a mix of fear and morbid curiosity.

She tilted forward, face close to mine, and inhaled deeply.

But rather than attack, as I’d half-expected—or die again, as I’d half-wished—she simply turned away and shuffled down the alley, disappearing into the misty dark.

Instead of going after her, I did what I do best.

Ran like hell.

Four

Gray

Normally I liked to take the long way home after dropping off Waldrich’s van, strolling along the Bay’s narrow beach as neighboring Seattle blinked awake. The scenic route was a three-mile walk from Waldrich’s dock at the Hudson Marina to the house Sophie and I shared in South Bay, and a good way to unwind after a long shift.

But this morning, as sunrise turned the sky the same milky shade as Bean’s eyes, I took the shortest route possible, zipping home to lock myself inside.

A hot shower washed off the blood and grime, but as I leaned against the countertop in our cheery red-and-yellow kitchen an hour later, Sophie’s annoying fox clock ticking above the stove, guilt and confusion lingered.

What the hell happened out there?

I’d gone over it a hundred times, played it back from every angle… It didn’t make sense. Necromancy wasn’t something that just happened—it took years of dedicated study and a fondness for the darker arts a thousand miles south of my personal comfort zone.

And if I had done it…

No. I couldn’t go down that road. That road meant living in fear. It meant running, starting over in a strange city, abandoning the people I cared about.

Again.

For the fourth time since I got home, I checked all the doors and windows in the house. I was pretty sure no one but Bean had seen me use magic tonight, but I wasn’t taking any chances.

On my way back to the kitchen, I heard Sophie’s keys in the front door.

“About time,” I called out as she stepped inside and kicked off her silver platform heels. She was late getting home from her overnight shift at Illuminae, the fae club where she tended bar. “Rowdy night with the faeries?”

My familiar teasing brought me back to reality, grounding me. Suddenly, the alley felt like a bad dream.

“Don’t even ask.” Joining me in the kitchen, Sophie dropped her bag on the table and flopped into a chair, her sequined micromini riding up her thighs. Her normally straight red hair was woven into intricate braids, each one pulsing with light that changed colors as I watched. Whorls of silver, blue, and teal danced across her bare shoulders like a living tattoo of the sea.

The fae loved their parlor tricks.

Sophie caught me staring and looked down at the oceanic designs undulating across her freckled skin. “It’ll wear off soon.”

“As if you don’t love to sparkle.”

She shrugged, a cute smile lighting up her face. “Sparkle is my color.”

I returned her smile. “All you need is a unicorn, and you’re all set.”

“If Kallayna thought it would bring in more business, she’d make it happen.” Sophie slid her fingers into her hair, trying but failing to unravel the braids. “How was your night?”

I took the seat across from her and blew out a breath. Guilt and fear sat heavy on my shoulders, but I didn’t want to get into it with her—not until I was certain what it was.

From a small wicker basket we kept on the table, I picked out one of the dozens of beach rocks Sophie had painted, a black palm-sized stone decorated with a red-and-purple mandala. On the other side, she’d written just breathe in glossy white script.

Rubbing my thumb over the smooth paint, I was so focused on just breathing that I’d forgotten my face looked like I’d gone six rounds with a sledgehammer.

Sophie gasped when she saw it. “What happened to you?”

I set the stone back in the basket and pulled my hair forward, hiding the messed-up part of my face. “Some guy jacked me on the last delivery.”

“And?”

“And nothing.” I waved away her concern. “Chased him off.”

Sophie reached across the table and grabbed my hand. Her eyes widened, then narrowed, scrutinizing me from beneath several layers of shimmery blue eyeshadow. “Gray Desario, you are completely full of shit.”

“Nah.” I slipped from her grasp and headed to the sink to put the kettle on. “Only half full of shit. The other half is pure liquid sunshine.”

Sophie grunted. “Doesn’t feel like sunshine to me. It feels like magic.”

Sophie could sense energies by touching people or objects—emotions, motivations, intentions, history, things like that. She’d always said it was like her intuition dusting for psychic fingerprints. The more intense or traumatic the situation, the stronger the vibe. It meant that all of our furniture came from Ikea—thrift store finds had too much history.

It also meant she was a human lie detector.

Still eyeing me warily, she pulled a deck of Tarot cards from her purse and began to shuffle. “Start talking.”

I took our mugs out of the dish drainer and righted them on the counter, then rummaged through our well-stocked basket of teas. “Dreaming of Chamomile, Lavender Honey Sweetness, Chocolate Bliss, or Merry Mint?”

“How about a big mug of Stop Dodging the Damn Question?”

“We’re fresh out of that. You’re getting mint.”

She sighed, cutting and reassembling her cards.

I let her stew. I still wasn’t a hundred percent convinced it’d actually happened. Hanging out with Sophie in our sunshiny kitchen, pouring hot water into the chipped blue mug she’d painted for my birthday last year, the whole magic scene started to feel like a hallucination. A trick of the mind brought on by the stress of being jumped, the fight, the proximity to vampires—yes, that had to be it. Their presence had always made me lightheaded—something about my blood reacting to the threat.

You did this to me, witch.

You.

You did this.

To me.

You.

“Gray? You okay?”

“Huh?”

“What’s going on?” Sophie asked, her voice heavy with fresh worry. “Really?”

“I… Nothing.”

The silence that fell between us was so complete, I could practically hear the tea steeping. The tension made my insides itch.

“Sophie, seriously. I’m cool.” I grabbed our mugs and sat down across from her. “I’m just—”

“Full of shit, like I said.” She rolled her eyes, but at least she was smiling again. “Where’s Ronan?”

The sound of his name sent a shiver down my spine. The good kind.

“Haven’t seen him in a few days.”

“God, I hate when he does that,” Sophie groaned. “Are you planning to tell him about this?”

“No. And neither are you.” The last thing I needed was an overprotective demon trailing me on my deliveries. It was bad enough he made me spar with him once a week, just to keep my reflexes and fighting skills sharp. If he saw me like this, I’d never hear the end of it.

“He’ll find out,” she said. “He always does.”

“Not from you.”

She blew across the top of her mug and arched a brow, steam curling up around her face. “Speaking of your sex life—”

“Nice transition, and no, we aren’t speaking of it.”

“Exactly my point.” Sophie's eyes lingered on a cut above my eyebrow. “You do realize that you’ve been in more fights in the last month than you’ve gotten laid in, like, years?”

“Really? I’d totally forgotten about my pathetically lonely nights and desperately unfulfilled longings! Thank God my best friend is keeping track for me!” I nodded at the Tarot cards stacked between us, eager to get back on neutral ground. “Draw your card before I fall asleep. I'm beat.”

“Classic Gray Desario redirect.” Sophie smirked and pulled a card for herself, setting it face up between us.

Her smile vanished.

I glanced down at the card—Seven of Pentacles. The image showed an apprentice witch using a rusty nail to draw blood from a tree. Seven silver pentacles bloomed on otherwise barren branches.

I knew right away what it meant, and despite the fact that the tree looked eerily similar to the ones I’d seen in my magic place, this card was not about me.

“Sophie,” I whispered, “you’re practicing magic again.” It wasn’t a question—just the first thing that popped into my mind. As soon as the words were out, I knew they were spot on.

Using magic was dangerous. It left a signature, and if enough witches left enough signatures, it could create a hotspot—one of the primary ways hunters tracked us. How they’d been tracking us—for millennia. The last time they’d rallied a few decades back, they wiped out thousands of witches and drove the remaining covens and solitary practitioners underground.

These days, most witches were firmly in the broom closet, if they admitted their magical heritage at all. Sure, other witches and supernaturals could identify us, but humans? Hunters? No way. Not without the magic.

“I guess I have a confession,” Sophie said.

“About the magic, or the fact that you’ve been keeping it secret?”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she met my gaze across the table, unwavering. “Both.”

I felt it then—a crack in the once solid foundation of our friendship, just wide enough for a secret to slip inside.

Seven years ago, in this city of the lost and the damned, Sophie and I had found each other, young and scared, both looking for a safe place to anchor, a safe place to stash our secrets. It was our identity as witches—as magical outcasts—that brought us together, made us instant friends and perfect roommates. Now, the thing that had so powerfully bound us was the very thing I wanted to shove into a box and lock away.

I’d always thought that's what she wanted, too.

“Hear me out,” she said.

I sipped my tea, reining in my anger. “I’m listening.”

“No, you’re judging. That’s not—”

“I’m listening, Sophie.” Trying to, anyway, which was all I could promise.

She nodded and picked up her mug, eyeing me over the rim. Then, in a soft voice laced with guilt, “I’ve been meeting with Bay Coven.”

“With… I don’t… Wow.” Damn it. I knew she was friends with some of the Bay Coven witches—a few of them regularly hung out at Illuminae, and I’d even gone with Sophie once to a potluck dinner at the leader Norah’s house—but I had no idea she was actually involved with the local underground.

Practicing magic.

And keeping it from me.

“Why?” I struggled to keep the sting of betrayal from my voice.

“They need me. The witches are strong, but Norah keeps everyone on a leash. If there were more of us, we could—”

“Us?” My head was spinning. I didn’t even know Sophie wanted to do magic again, let alone with other people. “Where is this coming from?”

Sophie shrugged, her rainbow braids lighting up as they brushed her shoulders. “I want to know who I am, Gray. What I can do.”

“What you can do is get yourself killed.”

“We’re witches,” she said plainly. “Hiding our magic doesn't change that.”

“No, it just makes it a hell of a lot harder for the hunters to find us.”

“You’re doing that thing,” she said, pointing at my chest. “Putting on your tough bitch act, hoping you can fake it till you make it.”

“Whatever it takes.”

“Stop shutting me out.”

“I'm not the one keeping secrets.”

“Bullshit.” Sophie grabbed my hand again, her thumb skating gently across my scraped palm. “This wasn’t some random fight. There’s something inside you, Gray. I can feel it. What happened?”

Heat flickered in my gut, embers from a fire not quite finished burning. I closed my eyes and sucked in a cool breath, willing the feeling to settle. To go away.

“Whatever it is,” she said, “you can trust me. We’ll deal with it together.”

I opened my eyes and met her kind gaze, but I still couldn’t bring myself to confess.

Necromancy? No one fucked with that shit. And no matter how desperately Sophie wanted me to open up, I wouldn’t lay that on her. She was one of the good ones. If she was smart, she’d turn me in to the Fae Council—not because she was disloyal, but because those were the rules we lived by. The ones that kept our supernatural communities secret and safe.

Putting her in that position, well… Maybe one day it would come down to friendship or morals.

And maybe I didn’t want to see which one she’d choose.

I pulled away, wrapping my hands around my mug to keep from fidgeting. “How long have you been using magic?”

She glared at me a moment longer, then relented. “A few weeks. A month? I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I wanted to feel it out first.”

“With the coven?”

“Yeah.” Sophie’s smile brightened. “Haley—you remember her from the potluck, right? She's teaching me blood magic and helping me reconnect with my earth energy. It’s amazing, Gray. It’s—”

“Dangerous and stupid. The more witches using magic together, the greater the risk.”

She frowned. “Togetherness is the whole point. If and when the time comes, we shouldn’t have to fight alone.”

“We shouldn’t have to fight at all. That's the whole point. The point of not using magic.”

“Is that so?” Shaking her head, she glared at my chest as if she could see the darkness swirling there. “It's destroying you. The more you hold back, the more you repress and deny your true nature, the worse—”

“Sophie? Stop. Seriously. I said I'm fine.”

True nature? No way. This morning was a freak accident, that's all. It wouldn’t happen again. Period.

I whipped the next card off the top of the Tarot deck and tossed it down in front of me, hoping for a Three of Cups, maybe The Sun, something bright and cheerful to chase away the gloom of this conversation.

But… nope.