Shadow Hunt

Shadow Hunt - By Erin Kellison

Prologue



Marcie rinsed her chef ’s knife in the kitchen sink of the Segue Institute, and in a flash of overhead light on the long triangle of steel, she caught the brief reflection of an unfamiliar brown-haired man watching her from the doorway. Something about the tilt of his head signaled stealth and menace. She knew and cooked for everyone at Segue, so . . .

Intruder.

Fear thinned her breath, but her heartbeat didn’t jolt, thanks to the beta blockers she was taking for her high blood pressure. She kept her hands steady, gripping the wet handle of the blade in her right one.

She forced herself to turn, the knife uplifted. Drops of rapidly cooling water slid down her arm to amp her spook-born goose bumps.

She glanced around the kitchen—stainless walk-in fridge, island stacked with clean dishes to put away, double-wide dishwasher open to her left. The corners and cubbies of the kitchen were dark, while the air smelled soapy and water fresh.

There was no one there.

Which, after so many years of working there, she knew that meant she had to look harder.

The Segue Institute was the preeminent research organization for all things paranormal and it was housed in a haunted, renovated turn-of-the-century hotel. The place was supposedly loaded with what the scientists there called Shadow, capital S, a scary word for magic. Dark magic.

What she’d learned from all their research, however, was to trust the skittish hairs on the back of her neck. And right now they were tingling with a message of imminent danger.

She reached back and pressed the panic button under the counter and primed herself for the wait. Steam rose from the sink to dampen the back of her T-shirt.

Everyone either had retired for the night or was downstairs on the research level in a supersecret meeting—not so secret if she knew about it. They might as well have had the meeting in the kitchen, because if she lived through this, she would know the details in bits and pieces by the end of tomorrow anyway. And if she died, she’d take other secrets with her.

She giggled a little hysterically, then went for an old-fashioned, “Who’s there?”

He wasn’t a ghost or a wraith. A ghost, like that mean, hollow-eyed girl who haunted Segue, could scare her but couldn’t do much else. And a wraith would’ve killed her already and eaten her soul. The intruder wasn’t beautiful like the angels who’d been in and out of Segue this last year. And the fae were trapped in Twilight.

Which left something new. Goody. She got to be today’s ambassador to the paranormal.

“Just so you know,” Marcie said to the kitchen, “I’m using you for a raise.”

Most of the staff were required to do some defensive training; she was required to feed them. But she was proud of her fast and even chopping skills, had her tool of choice in hand—the only knife a chef needs really—and was prepared to use it, even if she had to flail into open air.

She held her breath to listen for the slightest movement. Felt something cold . . . there.

She struck out as an unearthly light shimmered into sight on the other side of the island. A little girl in gold ringlets and a pinafore appeared out of nowhere, ultrareal yet otherworldly. Segue’s ghost. Her eyes were hollow, and her expression was contorted with rage. Behind her face lurked another, that of a grown woman, bitter and violent. Darkness was etched around her as if she were punched out of time.

“This is my place!” the girl shrieked in the direction of the lasagna dishes on the island.

The ghost’s anger blasted through the air like ripples on water, and for a moment, the intruder was revealed. A man, on the thin side. Average height. He’d recoiled at the ghost’s appearance, then glanced at Marcie, and she frowned at his black eyes. Oh. You’re one of those. He was clutching a black dagger, ready to kill. And he was now standing close enough to strike.

Me first. She’d find a way to thank the little girl ghost later.

Marcie sliced through the air as the intruder disappeared again. Hit resistance. Came away with her blade tinged red.

A flutter of air brushed her cheek. She dodged back, but felt a searing line burn across her left-side collar bone and upper arm. Smelled the metallic scent of her own blood. A big raise, then.

She jabbed upward and snagged a bit of his clothing—jacket maybe. Which meant he had to be . . . She brought her knee up and felt the satisfaction of a solid connection, just like her big brother Bryan had taught her.

But a bright burst of pain along her jaw had her falling on top of the open dishwasher. She leaned into the glasses and bowls in the upper tray, turning her weight, expecting another dash of his knife. She clutched her own to deflect it, but felt the vulnerability of her belly, while she tried to save her neck.

But the stab came even lower, at her groin.

The spear of pain had her tumbling down the dishwasher, her head coming to rest on the edge of the open door. Wet heat seeped from her crotch into the thigh of her jeans. She dropped her chef ’s knife and pressed her hands to the gash at her leg. Blood pumped through her fingers like warm, honeyed milk. No no no . . . This was bad, very bad.

Movement brought her attention over and up above the island, where the kitchen door was swinging open. The cavalry at last. Thank God. The head and shoulders of Adam Thorne, founder of Segue, came into view, the rest of him blocked by the island.

“Mage,” Marcie said, so he’d know what he was up against. Ferocious chills raced over her body. So much blood.

Adam glanced down, spoke urgently but inaudibly, then mouthed a shout over his shoulder. Sound was going funny with her panic.

Adam moved around the island to get to her, but Eleanor Russo’s disembodied shadow got to her first, phasing suddenly through the barrier of the island to crouch at her side. The flesh-and-blood form of Ellie wouldn’t be far behind, slowed by walls and doors.

Marcie’s eyes burned with relief, a sob forming in her throat. Everything was going to be okay. Ellie’s shadow was here. That was shadow with a lowercase s, the dark human form everybody had, only Ellie’s wasn’t always attached to her body. Strong, protective to a fault, the shadow could defend them all. That mage had better run, because Ellie’s shadow could and would take him apart.

And then Adam was next to her too, pressing a dish towel down hard, so hard, on the wound. Yes. Everything was going to be okay now. Please let everything be okay.

Dr. Cam Kalamos came into view next. Ellie’s boyfriend, and if his plans tonight played out the way he wanted—Marcie had been consulted and had approved the particulars—then tomorrow he’d be Ellie’s fiancé.

Damn mages ruined everything.

Marcie had planned to get back to Segue early tomorrow to hear the news first, then to steal Ellie away to get a manicure to go with the diamond. The mage had ruined that plan. Her disappointment tasted bitter. Made her want to cry. And here Marcie had so many ideas for the wedding and a stack of bridal magazines to go through too.

Cam answered Adam’s question by shaking his head, as if he couldn’t see an intruder within the Shadows gathered in the kitchen.

Well, she hadn’t stabbed herself.

“What happened?” came another voice, familiar, but she was too faint and nauseated to identify who’d spoken.

But see? Everyone always eventually gathered in the kitchen.

Sparks of light swarmed her vision until all she saw was diffuse brightness, so cold that it washed over her like water and seeped into her body all the way to her bones.

“Marcie . . . ?” Adam again. Other words followed but they didn’t seem to string together correctly, so she ignored them. A gurney would be lovely, though.

Into the glare of light, a dark body shape leaned above her, so she wasn’t alone.

It was Ellie’s shadow, now fully opaque in her intensity, three dimensional, her features absent of color and potentially frightening in their utter blackness, but still so totally sweet Ellie.

Hello, friend, Marcie thought. Her eyes were dry, but she didn’t have the energy to blink or breathe and she really didn’t want to miss a moment.... Something was happening—an energy in the air. Something big . . .

But then Ellie’s shadow’s worried expression contracted as if she’d been stabbed as well, and she shrieked a terrifying sound of pain—even though nothing physical could ever harm her. Only Ellie’s body could hurt, not the shadow.

The world fell away, magic surging in a tidal wave of dishwater humidity that lifted Marcie on a crest of terrible wonder. Her heart chugged hard. Her senses faltered. And she understood why. Too much blood, too fast. The mage had aimed just right.

No. Wait. Please!

The sound of Ellie’s grief carried Marcie over the brink into memory and Shadow and Beyond.