Shadow's Grace, page 1
Shadow’s
Grace
Table of Contents
Title Page
Shadow's Grace (Shadow Duology, #1)
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
Also By Deanna Foster
A History of Hangings in Nova Scotia
Raven’s Blood
Will of the Magic Realm
Post Mortem Management
Christmas with a Bang
Ivy Frost Series
Broken Ivy
Havelock City Series
Fortunes of Madness
A Pocket Full of Blood
Shadow Duology
Shadow’s Grace
Shadow’s Grace
Deanna Foster
Shadow’s Grace
Copyright © 2025, Deanna Foster
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form on by an electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.
ISBN: 9798298138741
Cover design by Getcovers
For
Megan, Betty and Shannon
The women there when I needed them most
Chapter 1
Ariel
All her life, Death had offered Ariel candy. But a week ago, he had come to take her aunt’s pain away, offering an end to the suffering. And now, Ariel stood alone in a cemetery.
No one came to her Aunt’s funeral, no one but the ghosts who haunted the cemetery. Though, she knew, they didn’t have much else to do. Ariel looked up from the casket to the rows of the dead with a weary eye and tensed. They didn’t seem like they were interested in her, but it’s not like those who were gave her much warning. She had learned the painful lesson that staying still in one place for too long could be dangerous. Especially in a place close to death, like a cemetery. Still, the dead seemed to be holding their place. For now. And she owed her aunt this last tribute.
The ghosts didn’t seem interested in her, but they did look disappointed, their eyes drooping with boredom. They had known a funeral was coming; had likely known for days, when the caretaker crew first arrived to dig up the grave. Yet, it was only Ariel’s black boots that tramped over the brittle grass, which was covered in a light dusting of snow from this morning. No more than a centimetre had fallen. Certainly not enough to be an excuse not to come to a funeral in January.
Ariel’s breath puffed around her. She shivered in her black wool coat that flared out past her knees. She shoved her gloved hands into her pockets and pressed her arms against her body. A flash of movement caught her eye. One of the dead who had come to watch, likely someone who had died two hundred years ago in the 1800s by the look of his clothes, turned to leave. Even the dead were tired of this, as the civil servant’s dry words hung over the frozen ground.
“Cecille had no family of her own, but was grateful for the affection of her niece, Ariel, who cared for her in the final months of her life. She had no hobbies, few friends . . .” he droned, because she had said no when he asked if Cecille had any hobbies. What could she have said? That her aunt’s hobby was caring for the dead? Easing the tormented souls as they walked the earth years after they should have moved on? A “hobby” she had passed on to her only niece.
Not for the first time, Ariel cursed Death for taking the dead who had unresolved issues. If he could only take those who had everything wrapped up in a neat little package before they died, her life, and her aunt’s life, would be severely different. She could have been normal.
“I could have been normal,” she whispered. The civil servant didn’t hear her words, but they didn’t fall of deaf, or dead, ears. Well, not technically.
“What even is normal, Ariel?” a rough male voice asked beside her. Ariel jerked and turned to see a tall man with a trim beard, his silver-flecked brown hair cut stylishly, his coat worth more than her entire outfit, from boots to bra, from watch to black diamond earrings her aunt had left her.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t see you arrive,” the civil servant said, startled. He blinked, slowly, and was about to resume his place when Ariel decided to put him – and the disappointed dead – out of their misery.
“That’s enough, Mr. Johnson. Thank you for your time. I’ll remain with my aunt for a few more minutes.” She checked her watch. Would it be too early to leave? With the funeral done, the dead might turn their interest on her. Ariel shivered at the thought. She should leave as soon as she could.
“Very well, Miss van de Kamp.” He turned and walked along the outer path of the cemetery. Ariel watched him until he was out of hearing range before she addressed the new-comer.
“Thank you for coming, Dennis,” she said. Her grey eyes didn’t turn to him, but remained focused on the casket that held her aunt.
“Sorry I’m late.”
“I know you’re busy. And married now, I heard.”
“Scarlet and I recently celebrated our first anniversary,” he replied.
“You know,” Ariel said, thinking back to his opening comment, “people always say ‘what is normal’ to make the weird ones feel better. By the time you’re a proper adult, you know what normal is and what it isn’t. It’s watching people wear colours instead of black all the time, it’s hanging family photos on the walls instead of pictures from graveyards around the world, it’s live laugh love instead of rise, lost soul. It’s. Not. Me.”
Death, or Dennis, as he liked to be called, sighed. She looked up at the Grim Reaper, but he was looking skyward at the bare branches.
“Normal is fucking boring,” he said, then turned to her with a deadly grin. “Trust me. I’ve been around long enough to know. And you don’t have to wear black. I think you’d look stunning in something pink and sparkly.”
Despite herself, Ariel laughed. The first laugh in at least a fortnight. Death pulled a hand from his pocket and held a bag of worms and frogs to her. Just like he had done since they first met when she was in her early teens.
“Candy?” he asked.
Ariel plucked a gummy worm from the bag. When he had started offering her candy, she had thought it was because she was a child. Only recently had she learned that he never went anywhere without candy to sate his sweet tooth.
While she chewed on the gummy worm, Dennis cleared his throat. Dread at the real reason he was here coiled through her. She closed her eyes as the candy turned to rubber in her mouth.
“Will you be continuing you with your aunt’s work?” he asked. She felt his eyes on her as she forced down the worm. She looked around the cemetery. The dead were still there, but they were no longer interested in the disappointing funeral. Many had returned to their resting place. At the other end, by the gates, a woman in a white wedding dress wrapped her transparent fingers around the iron bars and watched the mid-afternoon pedestrian traffic. Cemetery ghosts were usually bound to the location. She already preferred them to those who were free to roam as they pleased, because they often roamed to her.
If she remined in one place for too long, the dead with unfinished business would find her. They came with needs, and if they latched onto her, it was impossible to resist giving them her attention. Once they latched onto her, she could try ignoring them, but that only worked for so long.
Avoiding their needs caused her head to throb and stomach cramps quickly combined with nausea. She couldn’t hide, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t escape them. Her only option was to writhe in pain, or assist them, which brought its own painful symptoms. All this had started when her aunt died a week ago. Now Dennis was here, asking if she would continue with this work. Which made her wonder if she had to.
“Do I have a choice?” she asked. Was there a chance she wouldn’t have to live her life like Aunt Cecille had? Alone in that big house that everyone said was haunted, with only the dead and her niece for company? Ariel didn’t even have another blood relative to keep her company.
“Would you like a choice?”
“It’s a lonely life, Dennis,” she said without thinking. Living in that house for the past three months while caring for Cecille, and now alone for the past few nights, made her realize just how isolating her world would be now. Not that she was dating much before. At twenty-nine, she still hadn’t gone beyond the first few months of a relationship. It didn’t take long before the dead relatives of whoever she was involved with started appearing to her. Then things became too uncomfortable. Ten days into dating a guy, and then his dead uncle would suddenly be hovering over them as they had sex, because she was a magnet for the dead.
“What if I could make it a little less lonely, at least in the immediate future?” D
That caught her attention. “What are you talking about?” she asked, her eyes snapping to him.
“I could use your help. Yours, and someone else.”
A chill ran over Ariel. She didn’t know if she was excited or terrified. “You mean there are others like me?” she breathed.
Dennis clucked his tongue. “Not quiet. He’s not like you, but he is connected to death magic.” Dennis paused and sighed. “I have a problem, Ariel, and I’m hoping you and Ottavio can work together to help me solve it. Do this for me, and I’ll see what I can learn about whether this needs to be your forever situation. Maybe you can have a more fulfilling life. Maybe you don’t need to be buried with only the dead to attend your funeral.”
“What kind of problem?” she asked.
“Someone is raising the dead.”
Ariel gasped. “You mean like necromancers? Are they real?”
Dennis chuckled. “Necromancers are as real as vampires, demons and everything in between. But, unlike vampires and demons, they’re very few and far between. And they don’t like to draw attention to themselves.”
“Why not?” she asked.
Dennis’ eyes darkened. “When I find them, I don’t come with candy. Necromancy is a serious problem. I’m worried this isn’t on a small scale.”
“And you can’t go looking for this necromancer yourself?”
“The world is still fragile after the pandemic last year. I have a lot on my plate at the moment, and my resources are stretched thin. As you know, when my operation grows, I outsource. I’d like to outsource this task to you. Both of you,” he said, turning around. Ariel turned with him.
At the gates to the cemetery stood a man in a black wool trench coat. His ebony hair was slicked back. The olive skin of his face was covered in a shadow of stubble. Like her, his hands were shoved into his pockets, but she pictured them as large and strong, like the rest of him. Across the distance, his eyes met hers. A shiver passed through her. He held her gaze for a second before his eyes flickered away.
“Bloody hell, he’s more brooding than me,” she said, thankful he was far enough away that he couldn’t have heard their conversation.
Dennis chuckled. “Don’t worry, my little goth, I wouldn’t dream of pairing you with a merry sunshine.”
Ariel’s face flushed. Did he see her as a cynical goth girl? She had hoped she was slightly more unique, but then looked down at her black attire. Her long black hair was only missing the Wednesday braids.
“I’m glad you find this amusing,” she snapped.
But Dennis smiled. “In my line of work, I need to find the joy where I can. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”
“Wait, I haven’t agreed yet,” she said, hesitating.
“And you don’t have to. Yet. I’ll introduce you to Ottavio. If you think you can make it work, excellent. If not, well,” he shrugged, “I’m sure I’ll find another task for you to exchange for knowledge some day.”
Ariel frowned. “Some day. Sure.” She looked down at her aunt’s hole in the ground. No one had come. Even the dead were disappointed. Maybe she didn’t have to live like this, maybe this didn’t have to be her ending. Would it be worth making a deal with Death to escape such a fate? Yes, she thought. But he didn’t need to know that just yet.
Chapter 2
Vio
He watched Dennis guide the woman away from the fresh grave. As they approached, he observed her long black hair and smooth pale skin, most of which was covered by her black wool jacket, boots and leather gloves. Her strong jaw line and those grey eyes he had locked on halfway across the cemetery. He placed her at late twenties to early thirties, though she could be younger. It was getting harder and harder to tell people’s ages these days. But after four hundred years of practice, his skills at age placement were better than most.
“Ottavio,” Dennis said when they reached him by the gates. “I’d like to introduce you to a friend of mine.”
“Ariel,” she said, extending her hand. He looked at it, wondering if he should take it. When Dennis cleared his throat, he sighed and extended his hand.
“Vio,” he replied, giving her a firm but quick squeeze. She surprised him by equalling his strength in the grip.
“Vio is also a friend,” Dennis said. Vio scoffed. Dennis didn’t really befriend people. He used them, and if they played by his rules, he stayed on friendly terms with them.
“Nice to meet you,” Ariel said, though he could tell she didn’t believe it. And why should she? No one made a deal with Death for fun, or if everything in their life was going great. He wasn’t exactly an inviting personality.
“Oh, this is new,” Dennis said, looking across the street to the city’s Public Gardens, where a booth was selling ‘hot chocolate cake.’ A small group of people had gathered, collecting their tall cups that were topped with whipped cream. “Hot chocolate cake. Oh yes please. Come on, you two, let’s walk and talk.”
Vio rolled his eyes and noticed Ariel doing the same. When she caught their shared reaction, she smiled faintly. He bristled. He had no intention of working with her, so liking her was unimportant.
They both declined Dennis’ offer of a hot chocolate cake, but followed him through the frozen garden. They found a quiet path that led to a secluded set of double benches that sat across from each other under a bare willow tree. Dennis took a seat on a bench and motioned for them to take the other, where they sat, side by side. “This is really delicious,” he said with a mouthful of chocolate.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Vio said to the Grim Reaper, who only gave a deadly grin and smiled with teeth covered in warm, gooey chocolate. Beside him, he sensed Ariel tense. Maybe she wasn’t used to people taking that tone with Death. But most people had something to fear from Death. He wasn’t most people.
“Of course,” Dennis said, wiping his mouth. “To business.”
“I told you,” Vio snapped. “I’m not working with anyone on this job.”
“Now who’s being rude?” Dennis asked.
Vio seethed. Out of fairness, he turned to Ariel. “Look, nothing against you personally. I just don’t need your help.”
“You’ve been working on the same job for two hundred years, Vio. I think it’s time to concede you need help,” Dennis said.
Vio turned to Ariel to gage her response. She inhaled sharply, and he noticed her pulse quickened against the skin of her neck, but she said nothing about the declaration of two hundred years. That was interesting.
“You’ve been trying to find the necromancer?” Ariel asked.
Vio gave a tight nod, knowing that Dennis would elaborate, and looked to his potential new boss. Their eyes met, and Vio gave his blessing through that glance.
“Vio isn’t alive,” Dennis started.
“Vampire?” she asked.
“It’s a little too sunny for that,” Vio said.
“Not quite a vampire. I believe his – what did you decide to call him?”
“Creator,” Vio said. Because there was no way in hell he was calling that bastard his father.
“Right,” Dennis said. “Ottavio came into being over four hundred years ago. He was created by a man – Gercke Klassen – who wove science and necromancy together to reanimate a dead man. Well, parts of a dead man. He put it all together and Vio came into existence.”
“Wait,” Ariel said. Vio gritted his teeth. He hated his part. The line of questions that always came next. “You mean, like-”
“Frankenstein’s monster, yes,” Vio snapped. Ariel didn’t flinch under his harsh tone. “But Shelley was a bit late. My creator made me in the sixteen hundreds.”
He tensed, waiting for the next line of questions. Are you made from criminal parts? Can I see your scars? Can you die?
She cast a curious glance at Vio before turning to Dennis, who was licking the inside of the cup. Vio resisted the urge to yank the plastic out of Death’s hand. “Is Gercke Klassen the person you suspect is our current target?” Ariel asked. Vio frowned. Each time he told someone about his past, they always had questions for him, but she had only been focused on the mission.
