Shadow Reaper (Shadowlands Series) (31 page)

“Put it on, quickly. The heat will rise rapidly, and your human body will dehydrate in seconds.”

I looked down to see Coralee’s suit neatly wrapped with ribbon. Bernie, thoughtful as ever—although he’d been nowhere in sight when they’d sent us off. I frowned and sat up.

“Turn around so I can get changed.”

He snorted. “I can’t see, remember.”

I quirked a brow. “Please! You may not see like the rest of us, but I have a feeling you see plenty just the same.”

He let out a surprised laugh that lit a spark in those amazing eyes of his and sent a warm tingle of satisfaction through me.

“Fine, I’ll wait outside.” He unbolted the door and pushed it open. A gust of hot air rushed in, hitting me full force. I gasped for breath, my eyes sizzling in my head.

“Be quick!” He stepped out.

The carriage rocked with the loss of his weight, and then the door was closed, offering me little relief. I stripped down to my bra and knickers and quickly slipped into the bodysuit, pulling the hood over my head. A ripple ran over my skin, and the temperature dropped steadily until I was cool and comfortable.

Thank goodness Bernie had thought to send it with us. I would have fried otherwise.

I stepped out of the carriage and squinted at the sunlight. The ground beneath my boots was cracked and parched. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I saw that we were standing in the middle of what looked like the remains of a city. I was used to ruins. The Cusp was home to enough of them, but the ruins in the Cusp weren’t really ruins, they were buildings warped and pulled out of shape until they looked like one of those surreal paintings by that dead famous painter I once read about, whose name I could never remember. These ruins, however, looked like ruins should. Stone buildings, that must have been epic some time ago, now lay open to the elements. Empty eyes and jagged teeth, that’s what this place reminded me of.

I turned to Daemon. He was leaning against the carriage, picking at his teeth with a slim piece of wood. His gaze was fixed on the four riders to our far left. I recognised them as the ones who’d picked him up from the market yesterday morning. “Daemon, what is this place?”

His gaze never left the riders. “The mines.”

I wasn’t sure what I’d been expecting, but it wasn’t a ruined city. I was confused. Mines were underground.

“These are ruins, not mines.”

“The mines are underneath the temple.”

“Temple?”

“Yes.”

He pushed off the side of the carriage and sauntered off, calling over his shoulder, “Come on, we don’t have all day.”

I set off after him and the Hellion guards flanked me. Several guards. What the hell did they think I was going to do? But then, I realised, the guards weren’t for my benefit, they were for Daemon. Just like the riders were. His shackles were off. He’d insisted that his expertise would be invaluable. Apparently, the shackles were made of some special material that muted his strength. An image of him busting down that metal door to get to me at Apocalypse danced through my head. Yeah, that must be some powerful metal.

So, Daemon was at his full strength, which meant the nobles weren’t taking any chances.

I had to admit, it made me feel safer knowing he was 100 percent, which was a full 180 from a couple of days ago.

We wove through the ruins, climbing over the smaller debris as we progressed. The winding, rubble-filled streets eventually opened out onto a wider pathway. It led up to a massive structure, the only structure in the whole city that was standing untouched with turrets, old and weatherworn but intact. Huge beasts were circling around it.

Daemon came to a standstill. “Sentinels.”

“Guarding the temple, I presume,” I said.

“Guarding the mines beneath it.”

“Okay, so how do we get past the Sentinels?”

My question was answered a moment later when one of the riders trotted forward waving a red and white flag wildly in the air.

The Sentinels wheeled toward us, losing altitude. They glided down, their bulk casting dark shadows as they skimmed over us. I ducked, and the riders laughed and said something I was pretty sure was derogatory in their language.

“What are they saying?”

Daemon shook his head. “They’re saying you look ridiculous in that outfit.”

“I thought this thing was supposed to make me blend in!”

“The glamour seems to have worn off. Enchansa magic doesn’t last long in Inferna.”

I looked down at myself. Yep, I looked ridiculous, but it was worth it to avoid being fried alive. I bared my teeth at the nearest rider, who chuckled even harder. Dickhead.

The Sentinels had gone back to flying around the temple. The flag had obviously been a signal to tell them we were allowed access. At least I hoped so, because it looked like we were going in.

The riders pulled to a stop at the foot of the many steps that led up to the entrance. Daemon took the steps two at a time. I huffed my way up after him, feeling tiny in comparison to the staircase in front of me.

We made it to the top and I resisted the urge to collapse. I was no weakling, I trained every day and was the fastest runner in the Reaper Collective, but the last few days had taken a toll on my body. Nothing a decent night’s sleep and some proper food wouldn’t fix, I was sure. The thought of my comfy bed at Apocalypse brought mixed feelings. How could I be so selfish as to think about my own respite when my people were running the risk of starvation? This had to work.

Daemon glanced over his shoulder in my direction before entering the shadowy confines of the temple. I gave myself a moment to catch my breath and collect my thoughts and then followed.

The interior of the temple was a mosaic of shadow and light. Tall, narrow windows with arched tops ran along the walls. The ceiling was high and domed to match the windows. The floor was covered in grime and dirt, but I could see a flash of colour here and there telling me that there was a pattern of some kind under the dirt. What had it looked like in its heyday? Had the Infernans worshiped here? If so, who had they worshiped? Seemed to me all they really worshiped was the Aether and themselves. They came across as an egocentric people. This temple seemed at odds with such a ruthless, self-serving race.

“What happened here? Why is this city in ruins?” I followed Daemon through a set of wide-open double doors into a circular space whose ceiling was held up by thirteen pillars around the circumference of the room. On closer inspection, I noted strange markings etched into the pillars. The Infernan language perhaps? I traced my fingers lightly over one of the symbols. My vision shimmered. I blinked to clear it and the markings shifted, swimming about to form words I could almost grasp, almost understand.

“Runic markings,” Daemon said.

My vision cleared and the markings were just markings again. Incomprehensible.

Shit! First the lift at Apocalypse and now these symbols. There was something wrong with me and I had a feeling it was somehow connected to my shadow eating ability. I made a note to ask Avery about it upon my return.

“Follow me. The entrance to the mines is just behind the altar.” Daemon pointed to a raised platform that housed an ornate and very dusty-looking chair.

Daemon strode around the altar and out of sight, but I was quick to follow. I rounded the altar and faltered.

The back of the altar was a dark, gaping maw. Tracks covered in soot ran from the aperture right up to another exit at the back of the temple. There was an empty cart sitting on the tracks, with a platform on wheels attached to it, nothing on it aside from a lever.

Daemon stood on the platform and motioned for me to join him. I stepped up gingerly. He released the lever, and the platform began to roll into the dark entrance to the mines, dragging the cart with it. We moved slowly through a tunnel hewn from rock. There were lanterns fixed to the wall, but they burned low and emitted very little light.

“What does Aether look like?”

“Black rock.”

“And nobles can use this black rock to make Hellions?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. I’m not a noble.”

I hated not knowing, but Clay would have hated it more. Clay reveled in knowing how things ticked—taking them apart and putting them back together—which worked well for our relationship because I was forever breaking things.

My chest was tight all of a sudden. Man, I missed him.

“What about Avery and Jiva? Do they know?”

“You’d have to ask them.”

Black rock. Someone along the way had mentioned that Enchansa used it to make magic and Saul used it for technology. How did they do it?

“Who did the temple belong to?” I asked.

“I don’t know. It was before my time. Rumours say it once housed the Heart of our worlds.”

“So the mines came after?”

I could barely make out Daemon’s frown in the darkness. “I guess they did.”

I got that itch in my brain, the one Clay called my got-to-know-more itch. There was so much about this place that I didn’t understand, and this temple was the icing on the cake, taunting me with forgotten knowledge. My got-to-know-more itch was what drove my hunger for magazines and books. It was the need to know what had come before, to understand the history of things. I’d done a pretty good job of putting together a visual history of my own world from the magazines, books, and photos I’d salvaged over the years, but here was a new mystery, a history that even the occupants of the realm were unsure of. If what Daemon said was true, this temple and whatever it had once housed were also connected to my world. The Heart of all realms.

“We’re here.” Daemon pulled at the lever, locking it in place and bringing the platform to a halt.

We were at an intersection. Two tunnels led off it. One was lit by lanterns and the other was inky blackness.

I didn’t need to ask which way we had to go.

“Okay, well . . . let’s do this.” I hopped off the platform and shook out my arms, rolled my shoulders, and stretched my neck muscles. I don’t know why, it just seemed the right thing to do, kind of like rolling up your sleeves before tackling a difficult job.

I stepped onto the tracks leading into the black tunnel and froze when I saw the darkness move.

Shadows?

Why weren’t they attacking? Why wasn’t I feeling that tug?

I took another step.

The darkness took a step toward me.

My heart almost stopped.

Do not come any closer. Turn back.

“Daemon . . . please tell me you heard that.”

“I hear only your voice.”

Shit! Okay, I was freaking myself out, imaging things and—

Go now, before it is too late. You are in grave danger. Run!

It was happening again. Just like in the Cusp when I’d been trying to save Ryder. It was happening, and it was proof that I was crazy. A crazy woman who could suck Shadows with her arms!

“What do you hear?”

“Nothing.”

Don’t be a fool, human. Trust your instincts.

My instincts were telling me to do exactly what the voice was telling me to do.

Run.

But I couldn’t do that, not if I wanted to live.

I took another step.

You will die here.

Thanks.

I stepped into the darkness and felt it press against my bodysuit. A chill seeped through me and I suppressed a shudder.

“Wait!”

Daemon grabbed my arm and moved me aside, pushing into the darkness ahead of me.

“Thanks, I—”

He vanished, obscured by shooting inky black. A Shadow! I rushed forward into the tunnel, and that’s when I felt them, but this time it was different. No hunger, no tug, no yearning. I felt nothing, nothing except bone-aching, piss-pooling fear.

I was frozen in a sea of Shadows, paralysed while they slipped around me, tightened their grip on me. Their greedy shadow mouths latched onto my bodysuit and sucked at my skin. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t scream. Where was the power? Where was the instinct to consume?

“Draw them into you! What are you waiting for?”

I caught a flash of Daemon, the silver of his eyes, the thrash of movement as he tried to fight off the Shadows.

And still I couldn’t move . . .

“Move!”

The explosion of sound galvanised my reluctant muscles into action. I flailed my arms, breaking the Shadows’ hold over my upper body, tried to run and fell forward. My legs were trapped, numb, and wrapped in darkness.

“I can’t feel my legs!”

“This isn’t right!” Daemon yelled.

“You’re telling me!” I used my hands to pull myself along, closer to the intersection, away from the darkness. A weight fell on my back, pressing me into the ground. Something sharp dug into my abdomen.

I writhed and yelped in pain as the sharp thing sliced through my suit. I felt the sting as it pierced my skin. How was this possible? Coralee had said the suit was impregnable.

My skin tingled, warmer and warmer and suddenly, my legs weren’t numb any longer. I kicked out, shattering the Shadows’ hold, flipped onto my back and ripping at the Shadows above me. My fingers pressed into the viscous mass. This was wrong, this wasn’t how it was supposed to feel. I squeezed my eyes shut and desperately searched for that connection, the hunger, the need. I pushed harder, pushed past my confusion and fear and the fact that it felt like tiny ants with hot legs were skittering all over my body, and opened myself to the darkness.

There, I felt it. A spark. Tiny and bright and yes . . . yes, this I could deal with. I tugged at it, drawing it closer, drawing it away from the viscous matter, drawing it toward me. My body flared to life, my loins sat up and did the special throb reserved for just this moment, and it was flowing into me, delicious and addictive and mine. I opened my eyes. I needed to see it as I claimed it.

The Shadow streamed into me just as it had wanted to all along. I could feel its relief, like coming home. But there was something else. The wrongness, the slimy viciousness was there, hovering above me, a gravity-defying mass. It shifted and grew and then rushed toward me. I screamed as I absorbed the last of the Shadow, as the gloopy mass became a face and bared its teeth at me. But in the next instant, I was being dragged away from it, out into the intersection, into the light. I was dropped unceremoniously into the cart, and then we were moving as I rode wave upon wave of bliss.