Erin Kellison - Shadow Fall

FALLEN ANGEL

It had to have been the music that changed her. Hed gone too far, revealed too much. But that was the way with music; it demanded everything. No holding back. Denying what hed played now was like trying to stop something that had already happened.

Fine, then. She knew. He loved her. Hed loved her since he first saw her dance in the Shadowlands.

But she had to understand.

He said, I. Ruin. Everything.

Annabellas smile faltered, a dark glimmer of sadness far away in her eyes.

So she did understand. No matter how he felt, he was no good for her. He could play well and fight better, but that was about it. He was a thieving, murderous opportunist. Not too long ago hed taken all he could get from her, and he would again tonight.

He dropped his gaze to get rid of Adams cuff links. Everything borrowed, nothing his. Never his. He threw them on an end table, rolled his cuffs, and forced himself to look up again.

Youll have to tell me what youre thinking, he said. She was smart; by now she had to have guessed that hed quit trespassing in her head.

She pinned him with dangerous intent. Fine then. You ruin everything? Ruin me .

Shadow Fall

Erin Kellison

Table of Contents

For Mom and Dad with love.

The Faerie have no concept of time, breath of life, or gift of death. They are Other, neither good nor evil, and therefore capable of both extremes. They inhabit the twilight Sha-dowlands, a between space that buffers mortality from the hereafter, where magic is thick, influencing human dreams and nightmares.

The greatest of the Fae, Shadowman, also known as Death, guarded the veil and couriered souls across the divide for millennia upon millennia.

One day, Death fell in love and abandoned his post. As a direct consequence of his actions, the boundary between mortality and the Shadowlands thinned and is now permeable to beings on both sides.

from The Shadowlands Treatise ,
by Talia Kathleen Thorne,
The Segue Institute

A fist to his jaw snapped Custos head to the side. His ear roared as a storm of broad heat spread across his cheek and behind his left eye. He shuddered with the swell of ache that followed, each beat of his heart searing a lightning strike of pain through his skull as dark clouds gathered in his mind.

Focus.

He flexed his hands against the bonds that cut into his wristsnot to escape, that was impossiblebut to control the wicked-slick fear that might wheeze out of him in a weak moment.

He was going to die. The trick now was to die well. No sniveling allowed.

Spencers face loomed into Custos blurred view. His brown hair was close-cropped, just shy of a buzz. A black earbud connected him to the rest of his team, the covert government agency that investigated paranormal activity. They were supposed to be the good guys, but something had gone terribly wrong. Spencer had always been a bastard, but colluding with the wraiths made him a traitor.

Just tell me where Adam is, and Ill let you go. Theres really no need for thiswere going to find him anyway. He doesnt need to know it was you, Spencer said.

A wet, warm trickle found the channel beneath Custos nose. The coppery smell filled his head.

Adam would know, and worse, Adam would forgive.

A rough scrapemetal on the floor. A coin of light pressure on his foot.

Custo cracked his eyes. What now ?

Spencer had positioned one of Adams sleek chairs directly in front of his own and levered himself into the seat, close enough to bump knees. With Spencers weight in the chair, the pressure on Custos foot increased. A bone ached, burned, then snapped with a sizzle of white-hot sparks that shot up his calf. Reality slipped out of focus for a fraction of a moment.

Spencer sat back in the chair, a friendly smile on his face. Really, Ill let you walk right out of here. Just tell me where Adam is.

Spencer loved games, loved winning. The only way to thwart him was to beat him into the ground, or not to play. There was no winning today. It was better to think of something else.

Custo focused beyond Spencer, scanning the bedroom for a distraction. The New York City loft was typical Adam Thorneclean lines of modern, uncluttered wealth in industrial grays and blacks, accented by bold colorsa strong red in the case of the bedroom, which detailed the side table and the low Asian bed centered on the opposite wall. In the abstract painting above, the red deepened to a sangre splatter.

Sangre. Blood. Custo dropped his gaze to the wide-planked wood floor.

You must know where he is. Spencer gripped Custos hand, his urgency overriding his previous levity.

I thought he was here. We were supposed to meet here. Adam had brought Talia to the loft for safekeeping. Custo was to rendezvous with them, and together they would strategize an offensive strike on the wraiths locus of power. Adam had even checked in with Custo several times over the course of the evening to monitor his progress.

Something must have happened, and Adam and Talia bolted.

He tells you everything. Spencer found Custos index finger. Lifted it away from the arm of the chair.

Draw this out, and maybe they can escape.

Custos breath caught in his chest as his finger came to a burning right angle with the back of his hand. He gritted his teetha molar had loosenedand waited for the

Pop. Custo shivered under the break of his cold sweat, then surged against the bonds that held him to the chair. Too fucking tight.

He just had to hold out a little longer. Long enough for Adam and Talia to get to safety.

So sorry, Spencer said, pulling the finger back into alignment. He twisted it this way and that. The little bones screamed. I think its broken.

Very funny. Only nine more to go.

What about that freak Talia? Spencer lifted the middle finger. Custo tried to pull his hand back, but the damn ropes held him firmly to the chair.

Talia. Yeah, she was a little odd. No doubt about it. One scream and her dark daddy Shadowman came to the rescue. Handy having Death for a father.

Death. Custo watched as a female wraith glided from the corner of the room and settled onto Adams bed to lounge against the pillows, her hungry gaze meeting his. A thin, pale brunette. She looked human, and at one time she was, but something had changed her and made a monster of the woman. A soul-sucker. The Segue Institute, a private organization that had teamed with Spencers government group, had been dedicated to discovering the source of the human-wraith transformation and curing it, if possible. The focus had shifted to full war when Talia deduced that wraiths were monsters by choice, forgoing humanity for immortality.

Pop. Custos hand twitched in an acute spasm of agony, double that of the first break. He breathed deeply, lungs straining for control.

Spencer selected another.

Heart lurching in his chest, Custo ground his teeth together as the pressure on his thumb increased to liquid fire, but pissed himself anyway.

Spencer lurched back with a laugh. Whoa, buddy! Ya scared to die?

Not as scared as you. Custos voice was gravel, the sound rumbling from his chest.

Im not the one who peed my pants.

The sour-sweet smell lifted into the room and burned through the coppery scent of blood.

YouCusto put his tongue to his loose toothyou turned coward the moment you sided with the wraiths.

The wraith woman winked. On the contrary, takes nerve to be in the same room with a hungry one.

Spencer ignored her. He gave a huge sigh and rolled his eyes heavenward. You just dont get it, Custo. You never did. Theres no fighting immortality. Adam and I have been over this a million times. What the wraiths do may not be prettyfeeding on the life essence of their human forebearsbut it is a natural evolutionary step toward conquering Death. I merely read the writing on the wall.