Shadowman (Shadow, #3)

“Well . . .” Rose looked to Heaven for a little help.


But the woman raced ahead. “So you’re not part of The Order?”

The Order?

“We had a parting of the ways.” She wasn’t part of anything.

“Is it Talia Thorne you want to kill?”

Again, Rose was stumped. She didn’t know any Talia Thorne. She was after a Layla Mathews.

“Yes.” Rose flashed her nicest smile. “Among others.” What was one more?

“I’m Daria,” the wraith said, then turned to one of the men. “I want a table and a couple of chairs.” She glanced at the floating wraith. “And put Thing in the camper with the others so she doesn’t bother us.”

Thing was a woman? Oh, dear. And there were others?

A table was quickly brought out, chairs respectfully opened. Daria grabbed hers and sat, but Rose waited a moment to see if one of the male wraiths was going to be a gentleman. None came forward, and her estimation of them dropped some.

Rose seated herself and placed her arm on the table so that Daria might get a closer look at her bad hand, just so she would know who was in charge. The bones had lengthened, which made the limb take up the better half of the table, and a bit of goo clung to her pink painted nails. She nodded good-naturedly at the wraiths on her left so that Daria could see how her strength went up her shoulder and into her neck. Rose wanted to make sure there’d be no mistakes from the start.

Daria’s gaze traveled the length of Rose’s arm and stopped on her drumming fingers. “You are an angel?”

Rose didn’t like the question in her tone, so she answered definitively. “Yes. Now, where shall we begin?”

“There’s no point. Talia’s father is there.”

“And why is that a consideration?”

“You must have balls of steel. He’s Death.”

Rose flinched, scoring the table with her bad hand’s nails. “I’ll have none of that kind of talk.”

“This is a waste of my time.” Daria stood. She must have wanted to stretch her legs, because she couldn’t be leaving. Rose wasn’t finished yet.

“What do you mean by Death?”

“Talia screams, and the Grim Reaper comes. Simple as that.”

kat-a-kat-a-kat: Then make her scream.

And bring on Death? No, thank you. This was a dead end after all.

kat-a-kat-a-kat: The daughter doesn’t concern you. Layla does.

Hmmm. Point taken.

kat-a-kat-a-kat: And the rest will be busy with the wraiths.

Interesting.

Rose flashed her dimples at Daria but lifted a hand toward the camper. “Are there more of that kind?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because there’s strength in numbers. And I have a little talent of my own to add to the pot, if we can come to an agreement.”

This might just work.





Chapter 13


A rose lay on the pillow next to Layla when she woke the next morning, its bloom fat, bursting with fragrance, and bloody red. She didn’t remember going to bed, nor falling asleep, but somehow here she was, waking up alone, blinking at the abundance of color, confused and disoriented.

A normal life had never been an option for her. She’d known that from the time she was a kid. Tried to dismiss it in adulthood. Tried to fake a relationship. She’d felt herself on the edge of something, a high, rocky precipice, weathering the wind and the beat of the sky. She’d been waiting for something, stretching the hours for something. Someone.

Well, now she’d found him.

Was she ready for this? For Khan? Layla gave a weary ha! That wasn’t even his name.

Could she love him? Did the word even apply? No. Stupid word.

Layla sat up, plucked a petal from the flower, rubbed the satin between her thumb and fingers.

You and I. That’s what he’d said, and it was much closer to what she felt after last night. Witnessing the barren wintery landscape, she got it now. They were never meant to be together, yet were ruined for anyone else. They were a tragedy in the making, careening toward doom.

And she’d take as much as she could get.

The phone rang at her bedside. Layla pressed her palms to her eyes to steady herself. Took a deep breath. Answered.

Talia had a quick message. Adam was about to brief the Segue residents on the woman who attacked yesterday, the devil. The meeting was in the ballroom in fifteen minutes.

Layla made it down in five. It was her devil, after all.

The meeting occupied the same ballroom she’d been escorted to by Kev what seemed like a year ago. A couple soldiers hung in the back, but for the most part, mostly scientists and staff were present. Marcie smiled at her, and Layla returned the smile with a glance at the dishrag clutched in Marcie’s hand. Patel and his nurses had taken a seat. A couple other men spoke softly. A woman in a white coat was there, as was Dr. James, with coffee stains on his shirt, but with that direct gaze Layla didn’t think missed much. More entered as the minutes ticked by, and Layla guessed there were about thirty people gathered.