He’s probably right about what I am, but he’s wrong about his plan. It won’t work. Twice I’ve proceeded through the silver gates of Nalheim. I lived within its perimeter for an entire year. Almost every week I was surrounded by the silver walls of the Wretched Lair, blindingly bright from the glow of the chandeliers.
Bright enough to give me a headache.
But nothing worse.
Henderson frowns down at me as a bark of laughter escapes my lips. With sunlight overhead, he can’t see the darkness that tingles against my palms, but I can feel it. It tingles all around me, through me, surging out in every direction and begging to be free. It cowers at the sight of the flaming sword, knowing how quickly it could kill me, but it awaits my command just the same. Waits for me to give it permission to illustrate my wrath in whatever deadly shape I desire.
My gaze shifts from Henderson to Abigail, and cold resolve fills my blood.
Inana Westwood has never killed anyone.
But I have.
I blow out a breath and free my wrath, and every dark emotion it’s tangled with. Shadows leap from my palms, my legs, my heart. One spears Henderson through the chest while the other pierces Abigail’s throat. They both go still, but my shadows don’t. They continue to slash and rage, spraying me, the ground, and the air with blood.
I don’t know how long it lasts. All I know is when it’s over, I’m bathed in scarlet.
My shadows dance around me, humming with voices I’m in no state to hear, caressing my shoulders in soothing motions.
I pull myself up, sitting back on my heels, and stare down at my hands.
Hands that aren’t mine.
Hands that aren’t fucking mine.
And I scream.
Chapter Forty-Two
Dominic
I sense her before I see her and dismount my horse to run the rest of the way. Sloth howls, tugging at me as he races ahead. The sky has darkened with the last rays of sunset, and panic sears my chest. It took me too long to get here, even on the stablemaster’s fastest horse. Why the fuck did I leave her alone? Why didn’t I bring her with me when I made my report to the mayor? I don’t know what happened to her, but it can’t be good.
Not if Henderson is involved.
Fury has my legs flying faster, a sure sign that she’s close.
Her absence gave me a slight respite from my emotions, a blanketing numbness despite the logical frenzy in my mind. But now that I can feel her, my emotions rise like a tidal wave, crashing over me and sending my heart colliding with my rib cage.
“There,” Sloth, Pride, and Lust say all at once.
I see her now, but I don’t understand all that I’m witnessing.
She’s folded over in the middle of the abandoned road, blood and gore splattered all around her. Severed limbs and bits of flesh are scattered about. My eyes fall on a glint of silver, a Shadowbane’s sword, and I sure as fuck hope it’s Henderson’s, and that it’s his body parts that litter the road. But I can’t concern myself with his fate now. It’s Inana who absorbs all my attention with every step I draw closer. Asshe sobs into her hands, shadows writhe all around her, but they’re shapeless, undulating with her overflowing emotions. How can this be? How can Shades be surrounding her when night has yet to fully fall?
Then I realize I’m not seeing them with my eyes but sensing them through my Shades.
These ones are invisible in the daylight.
Just like mine.
And that makes even less sense.
Dozens more Shades creep between buildings, safe in the long stretches of shadow left by the waning sun. As soon as darkness falls completely, these wild Shades will pile on Inana too.
No. This can’t be happening. I can’t lose her. I can’t fucking lose her.
I close the distance between us. “Inana!”
