Shadow's Grace, page 4
And it wasn’t her aunt’s house any more, it was her house, she thought. Cecille was gone, and due to the salt wards, would never haunt the house she had died in. Ariel didn’t know if that was a blessing or a curse.
Curse. The word made her think of Vio. He had been cursed to a life of not belonging, of being neither dead nor alive, though everything worked as it should. His heart pumped blood, his lungs breathed in oxygen, yet he couldn’t die from age. He was vague on those details, but she had the impression that he could only die if his body was obliterated by an external source, and that he couldn’t commit self harm. Which he had sounded rather bitter about.
As for the relationship with his creator, it had been wrought with friction since his creation. Klassen had given life to Vio, but he had been born into a prison and forced to help Klassen with further experiments, forbidden to leave. His creator had been incredibly proud of the accomplishment – apparently Vio was the first, but not the last. After living with the man for seventy years, helping him with experiments and other creations, Vio had had enough of the pain.
“For humans, creating life is a beautiful thing,” Vio had said as the streetlights cast shadows over his face on the drive. “Yes, it comes with pain, and has a price on a woman’s body, but for monsters . . . it’s ugly. It’s not just painful and a little dangerous. It’s like watching murder that brings someone to life. It’s raw limbs and buckets of blood, it’s failures that led to burning flesh and carcases for the birds.
“In that laboratory, too many hands gripped mine, begging for death when things didn’t align properly, but Klassen would never scrap the experiment right away, always thinking there was something he could learn from us. That’s all we were. Bloody experiments of darkness and pain. He knew he couldn’t do it too often or it would raise suspicions, but he did it enough.
“When experiments would fail, he would do everything to try to restore them or correct them. This was a time before anesthesia. The pain that echoed off those walls must still be embedded in the stone.”
“How did you get away?” she had asked.
Vio had paused. “There was a rebellion. A fire. I managed to escape, and at the time, I didn’t not know what happened to him or the others.” That was all he had said about his parting with Klassen. “Two hundred years ago, I came across another like me in Paris. After that, I started hunting Klassen.”
“What happened to the ones you come across that he made?” she had asked.
“At the start, I gave them to option to join me. But his trail always went cold, and their interest always waivered. Some – the lucky ones – could build lives for themselves at the start. I tried to keep in contact, but it never lasted. Most of them just . . . drifted. He gave us life, but not a life. I haven’t come across another of us for almost fifty years. I don’t know what he’s been up to.”
“You still want to kill him?”
“Yes. If there is a chance he’s still doing this, he needs to be stopped. According to Dennis, he is, and now it has our dear Reaper worried. With the latest technology, I’m not surprised he’s operating on a bigger scale, one big enough to draw the attention of the Reaper.”
“It sounds like he did give you a life,” she said as he had parked in her driveway. “You’ve been living for revenge for hundreds of years.” She had touched his hand then. She didn’t know what to expect, but she was surprised when it was warm. “That’s exhausting and cruel. I would want him dead, too.”
She had left his car shortly after, too nervous to ask her question. Are you scared of what your life will be once you kill him? Vio had hated and hunted his creator for hundreds of years. That was a long time to be shaped by anger and revenge. She had more in common with him than she had thought; their darkness tormented them, but it was also their purpose. Who would they be without it?
The heavy thoughts weighed Ariel down as she poured a cup of tea with a shaking hand. Fuck, was she really drinking her usual herbal tea at a time like this? She looked around the kitchen that, like most of the house, hadn’t been updated in over forty years. The cabinets were still seventies brown, the table in the corner laminate with mental chairs covered in flower-printed-plastic.
Through the kitchen and into the living room, it wasn’t much better. Ariel had tried to help her aunt make upgrades and changes – a new couch here, a modern end table there – but either due to a lack of funds or too much nostalgia, Cecille had resisted change. Ariel was grateful she was able to decorate her bedroom as she had wanted. Though, she guessed now she could take the master bedroom.
At the thought of sleeping in that room, grief hit her in the chest and spread over her body. Her aunt had been like a mother to her, and now she was gone. Ariel was alone in the house that was now hers, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted it. Shame mingled with the grief to form a bitter cocktail. She couldn’t help but feel that selling the house would be a betrayal to her aunt. And it didn’t need to be sold, just massively updated, but even that thought threatened tears.
Ariel laughed bitterly, the sudden bark of mirthless laughter startling her. Was she really thinking about kitchen renovations when a dead man walking, and Death, were scheduled to arrive any minute? A knock at her door startled her and she poured the rest of the tea into the sink, not sure when she’d be having another cup. Vio had mentioned something about Italy last night. Who knows how long they’d be there. At least Dennis was financing this trip.
On her walk to the front door, she caught her reflection in the hall mirror. Her long black hair was in a tight braid. Her black jeans and sweater felt too basic for the beautiful necklace Dennis had gifted her. But she didn’t have velvet evening gowns laying round, nor did they seem practical for searching through the ruins of an abandoned city.
She took a deep breath and opened the door to see Vio there, his wool jacket open, exposing a charcoal button up and black trousers, belted at the waist. She bit the inside of her lip. Damn, she thought, he’s hotter than yesterday. He’s off limits, she told herself. Even if he was the first man she had ever met who was free of ghosts, he was still haunted.
“Hi,” he said, his centuries old Italian accent caressing her. Now that her head was clear and she was grounded in her surroundings, she found herself wondering how she was going to complete a job with him without wondering if everything worked.
“Hey, come in,” she said, stomping down the sudden and unfamiliar arousal. Arousal and attraction had always come slowly and with caution. So why was it burning brightly around him?
She led him through the house to the 1970s living room, feeling a slight tremor of embarrassment, immediately followed by guilt, at the surroundings. Like the kitchen, the wallpaper, furniture, even the damned large TV that was now a TV stand for the flat screen, was coated in a layer of the “Me decade.” Which meant a lot of brown and orange.
“I’m going to renovate,” she said, though she wasn’t sure why. His house had been from the 1870s. Yet it worked for him. Draped in shadows and melancholy, his home was a gothic jewel, a perfect reflection of him. This . . . wasn’t her.
“Not quite what I expected for a witch’s house,” he said.
Ariel spun around to face him, anger and shame forcing her to point her finger at him, her mouth open. He silenced her by grabbing her wrist and jerking her towards him. “Kidding, little witch,” he said. “I’m guessing all the kids at school said your aunt was a witch and this was a witch’s house?”
“Yes,” she said, pulling out of his grasp. That was the second time in as many days he had pulled her to him like that. She couldn’t let him make a habit of it. “But can you imagine anything looking less like a witch’s home?” she asked, trying to lighten the mood. She shouldn’t let these things hit so hard.
He looked around the room. “Not unless Elizabeth Montgomery is the witch. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t tease about it.” He flexed his fingers and walked around the living room, gently grazing the collection of salt rocks that surrounded this – and all the other – rooms. She hated that she wished his fingers would do that over her bare skin. “I’m a bit tense this morning,” he confessed.
“Understandable,” she said. She rubbed her hands over her bare arms. “Me too. You still sure you want to do this?”
“Are you?” he asked, instead of answering. He closed the distance to her until they stood toe to toe. “Are you sure you want to this with me?”
Ariel looked up into his dark eyes. “There’s no one else I’d want to do this with,” she said. She saw no point in lying.
“Because I’m not haunted?”
“Sure, yes,” she said, breaking his gaze. Let him think that was the reason why.
“You didn’t answer my first question,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked, holding her gaze with hers.
“And you didn’t answer mine.”
Vio inhaled slowly and looked at her chest. She followed his gaze to the pendant from Dennis. “I’m ready,” he said.
“I’m ready to do this with you,” she said.
“Are you ready to do this with me, or this in general?”
Ariel’s throat tightened. Of course she wanted to do this. Why didn’t he believe her? “Yes,” she said. “Yes, it’s just –”
“Stop,” he commanded. “There is no just. You want to do this with everything that you’re made of, or you don’t. I can’t put my trust in someone who isn’t prepared for this fight.”
Ariel gaped at his harsh words. Why had she been lamenting the loss of him a second ago? “Look, I said I want to. But what we’re doing . . . you need to know that I’m not some bad ass heroine from an urban fantasy novel. I’m not a warrior.”
“I don’t need a warrior. But I need a fighter. I need someone determined. There is too much at stake for me, and you. I need you to remember that.”
Her eyes widened at the rebuke. “You think I don’t?”
“Do you?”
“Yes! But like I said, it’s just – hey!” she cried when he grabbed her wrist and dragged her towards the door. “What are you doing?”
“Like I said, there is no room for justs. No room for a shred of doubt. We’re going for a drive.” He took her to his car and opened the passenger door of the black Mercedes, shoving her inside. Ariel’s head spun. How had they gone from saying are you ready to him confronting her over a few doubts over riding into battle. Didn’t most soldiers quiver on the front lines? And how did he think he was going to remove those doubts and fears?
He pushed the ignition button and jerked the car down the long drive that was lined with bare trees on each side. They pulled onto Robie Street, and a few minutes later and into the downtown core. “Where are we going?” she asked.
“I need you to be sure.”
“Fine, I am sure, can we go back to the house and call Dennis now?” she asked.
He gave her a side glace as he sped through the streets much too fast for the 50K speed limit. “You’re not going to like me for this. But like I said, I need to be able to trust your commitment.”
“Am I going to trust you after?” she asked, worry creeping in. A large brick building loomed before them. Ariel stiffened.
“You’re going to trust in my commitment to this hunt, to this fight,” he said.
“Really? What about the two hundred years of half-assing it?” she snapped, easing into her anger. Who was he to question her, to test her, when he had his own failures and lack of motivation.
But he only grinned at her. “You’re right. But not any more. Once I sign that contract, this is it. For both of us. I can’t afford to fuck it up. And neither can you.”
“Oh?” she asked. She didn’t know what Vio had to lose if they didn’t succeed, but she started to think he was getting a far worse deal than she was if they failed.
Vio put on the signal and pulled into the building parking lot. Ariel’s eyes widened. “No,” she breathed. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. He knew what this would to do to her. She whirled on him.
“Not here,” she said.
“Be sure,” he said.
Ariel looked out the car window. Through dozens – hundreds – of ghosts, she saw the brick building of the hospital’s emergency ward. She always avoided the hospital. Especially the emergency entrance.
“Vio . . .” she started, unable to take her eyes from the dead. Over a hundred years of ghosts floated in her vision. It wouldn’t be long now before one, maybe even more, latched on to her. She had no idea if more than one could, or what it would feel like. Fear numbed her hands, made her mouth dry. She tried to shrink into the seat.
“Vio,” she whimpered, turning to him. “There are too many, we can’t stay here. Please!”
“Are you ready?” he asked, his voice infuriatingly calm.
“Yes,” she pleaded.
“Wrong answer.” Ghosts began to notice her. They turned their transparent heads in the direction of the car, moving closer. A cold bead of sweat ran down her back. Had any latched on? Was she getting a debilitating headache, or was she just terrified?
“Yes, yes I’m fucking ready! I don’t – I can’t – I can’t live like this. I can’t live in fear anymore. I need to fight. I want to fight!” she slammed her fists on the dashboard and turned her eyes on him. She caught her reflection in his gaze and hardly recognized the fight, the blazing anger that looked back at her.
“Right answer,” he said, and spun the car out of the parking lot. Ariel watched the ghosts fade in the side mirror. She was certain some followed for a few blocks before he turned the corner and floored the gas petal. She hardly noticed the jerk from the acceleration.
Ariel’s pulse gradually returned to normal. Her breathing slowed. Most importantly, her head didn’t hurt. No ghosts had latched on. But any could at any moment. He was right, she couldn’t live like this. But she wasn’t ready to forgive him yet.
“I’m sorry,” he said when he pulled into her driveway. She remained silent. When the car came to a stop, she opened the door and rushed into the house, where she was safe from ghosts.
“Ariel,” he called, crashing into the space behind her. “I’m sorry. I needed to know where your head was in this,” he said. They stopped in the living room. She saw him from the corner of her eye. He didn’t fit here, she realized. He was darkness and misery, a black diamond in a sea of cheap glitter. And if she belonged with him, maybe she didn’t belong here either.
“I need to trust you, too,” she said, her throat tightening.
“I know. I’m ready. Here,” he said, handing her his contract. Ariel reached out with a trembling hand to take the document. “Read it.”
She skimmed the paragraphs until she found what he was bargaining for. Her breath caught in her throat and she had to read it three times for it to sink in. Then she looked up at him. “You want to die?”
Why did the thought of that hurt already? Would she grieve the loss of the Vio she knew now, or the potential of what may have happened if he continued to . . . well, live wasn’t quite the right word. Her eyes flicked to his.
Vio gave a grim nod. “For the last few hundred years. I can’t commit self harm, can’t kill myself. Dennis knows, I’ve tried. I can’t be killed by others unless I’m obliterated. Otherwise, I always recover. If I fuck this up, Dennis won’t make another deal with me. If I was miserable for three hundred years, I’ll be staring down three thousand.”
“Vio . . . I,” I don’t want you to die, she thought. Well, now he was certainly off limits.
“I want you to know that if I agree, I’m in this completely. I needed to know you were, too. Because if you’re in this with me, you’re also taking on all my enemies, along with those trying to get to Klassen and his abilities.”
“How many enemies do you have?”
He smirked. “I’ve been an asshole for three hundred years.”
“Ah,” she said, her lips twitching up. His remark defused the tension and she released a shaky breath. “What now?”
Vio crossed the distance to her so quickly her eyes couldn’t track the movements. But suddenly he was pressed against her, again, slivers of his essence piercing through her defences. Fuck, she could tell herself he was off limits, but if he wanted her, would she stop him? Or would she tear off her clothes and beg for his cock in her mouth? The vulgar thought made her gasp as the unfamiliar heat slithered through her again. At least, it had been unfamiliar, until yesterday. What was wrong with her? She had never thought like this before.
Vio’s fingers grazed neck, the calluses rough on her skin, sending pulses of lust through her. He palmed the necklace from Dennis.
“Now, we spend the rest of the day preparing. And then . . . we call the boss,” he whispered.
Chapter 6
Vio
Vio knew they weren’t ready. But they were as ready as they were going to be, since Dennis wouldn’t extend them another day. It was now or never.
Ariel was right; she wasn’t a badass heroine. She was someone who had run from her abilities all her life, someone who didn’t know how to use a weapon, and someone who had no magic that would be valuable in a fight. And she was paired with him; a block of muscle and strength honed from an unnatural creation and hundreds of years of battles, but with what she must think was a broken compass. Both literally and figuratively.
Ariel stood in his living room, or what had once been someone’s living room. He didn’t consider much of the house his. He had been here for ten years, but it wasn’t a home. He didn’t have a home. It was another reason it was time for him to die. Four hundred years without a home was one of the many reasons he hated being alive.
The two of them had spent the last twenty-four hours learning about modern day Craco, Vio getting a sense of her fighting abilities, and gathering supplies. All of which left him with a rising dread at the chances of their success.
