Desired by Shadow (A Shadow Walkers Novel) (14 page)

Reaching around and picking up Crystal, one arm encircling her waist, he whipped her about so she was facing the mirrored wall. She arched her hips. He reached around her and cupped her small breasts. Roughly kneading them he moved his hands down to pull up her dress.

“Isn’t this a touching Hallmark moment,” Kendrick drawled. He raked a glance over Solien who had his junk hanging out, ready to impale a brunette who’d been enjoying some type of illegal substance this evening. “I see you’ve already finished her friend. What did I tell you about killing humans?”

Solien ignored Kendrick and tried to get back to business, but it was hard to enjoy your dessert when you didn’t know if you’d get a sword in the back or not. “Dude, seriously, back off and let me finish here.” He spit at Kendrick.

“I cannot allow you to harm the girl, Solien. Now let her go, and we’ll take a stroll out into the alley. Come along like a nice, foul-smelling demon.” Kendrick languidly leaned against the wall, but Solien wasn’t fooled, the Shadow Walker didn’t miss anything, he was hyper-alert, clocking everyone in the club, not missing a single detail. Blasted Shadow Walkers, always ruining his fun.

Spoilsport,
he thought as Kendrick pushed the girl away. She shook her head and stumbled off. Kendrick had the ability to bend humans’ will as Solien did. Party-pooper Kendrick probably sent her home to sleep it off. It was surprisingly easy to manipulate some of these humans, their minds were weak.

Solien finished adjusting himself, and with a glance to the disappearing Crystal, shrugged and headed out the back door into the alley. “You could have at least let me have my taste, Kendrick.”

The alleyway was empty except for two large metal dumpsters. The buildings across the way were dark. Some kind of offices, the workers having gone home hours ago. The air blew through the alley and he smelled urine. Disgusting humans, pissing on the walls. They were filthier than most animals. All deserved to die. Kendrick was running his mouth again. “What, killing one human a night isn’t enough for you, demon?”

He laughed. These pathetic Shadow Walkers thought they were a match for him. They were nothing more than dust on his boots. He’d existed thousands of years. A Walker was nothing more than a human with a bit of power—playtime for him.

Kendrick manifested an ice blade. Solien melted it with a thought before it reached his head. “I’m the cat, and you’re the mouse. Better run for safety before it’s too late,” he taunted.

Kendrick kicked out, grazing his side. Solien grunted. He was a decent fighter for a so-called good guy, he outclassed many of the Day Walkers. The Englishman had been around since the 11
^th
-century. He was a Norman, come to sack and conqueror England. The guy loved to fight but his ridiculous honor would be his downfall.

A fist to the face sent Kendrick to the opposite wall of the alley. The man jumped up, ready for more. “Come on, Solien. You’re nothing more than a whipping boy for Dayne. Is that the best you’ve got?”

A lazy smile curved his lips. Yes, he served the god because of a battle he’d lost millennia ago. However, he got to kill disgusting humans, so it wasn’t too bad of a deal, all things considered.

“At least Dayne doesn’t set silly rules for us to follow. Unlike your precious Thorne. You don’t know what you’re missing, draining humans. They are simply delicious.” Shooting a bolt of energy at Kendrick, he caught him in the knee, sending him to the ground of the dirty, trash-strewn alley.

The Shadow Walker fell to his knees. Solien laughed, on a high since draining the girl earlier.

“Dayne won’t win. We’ll take you down, one by one.” Kendrick pushed back up on his feet.

“Seems to me, we’re already winning this little war. Thorne doesn’t have a clue what’s in store for him. When this world is in ashes, he’ll still be crying for his lost love. He doesn’t really care what happens to humanity. He’s only pretending to help the humans in hope that Luna will one day forgive him. Stupid god. Never let a woman rule you.” Solien raked a glare at Kendrick. “I’m tired of playing with you.” He took a deep breath, reaching inside himself and before the Shadow Walker could make a move, threw a ball of red energy at him. The red orb enveloped the Englishman. He let out an agonizing cry as his own energy was taken in by Solien’s. The air crackled, the sky turned red, as storm clouds rolled in and thunder rolled. The red energy trickled back to Solien, tinged with purple from Kendrick’s essence, soaking into his skin. When lightning flashed, his true form appeared, his wings spread wide as he drank in the Shadow Walker’s life-force, draining him dry. Solien, drew back a black ice dagger, taking two steps toward the Walker who was now on his knees too weak to defend himself.

With a rasp, his foe ground out, “Why do you hate us? Can’t you see how bad it will go for you once the humans are destroyed? Why would Dayne be satisfied destroying one race? He’ll destroy all the races, one by one until there’s nothing left but a barren wasteland.”

“Why? Humans are beneath demons, dirt on the soles of our feet. Who cares if they live or die? Let Dayne destroy all that he can. The demons will never be subjugated by one like him. We’ll rise up and destroy him if he dares to try and enslave us as he’s attempting to do with the fae.”

Feebly, Kendrick reached out with a dagger from his boot, swiping at Solien. He laughed and sent out another blast of red energy, paralyzing the Shadow Walker, reveling in his distress. He breathed deeply, inhaling the red energy, now pulsing with color. Blue, purple, silver and green shimmered within the red, Kendrick’s life-force. Full of power, Solien reveled in the taste. This Walker had been strong. Drunk on the English warrior’s energy, Solien spared him one last glance, “Enjoy being a wraith for all eternity.”

The Shadow Walker was no more. Solien heard the wind change, roaring as thunder rolled and lightning flashed across the ruby red skies. He cared not. As Kendrick faded, his body shimmered, the colors leaching out over the damp, broken pavement, swirling to Solien to lap up. The warrior flashed in the storm and seemed to splinter into the colored dust of his essence. The heavens broke open, rain lashed down as if the very heavens were weeping at the loss. Solien threw back his head and laughed, the leathery black wings unfolding, letting the flame of energy snake through his veins, filling him with power.

Drunk on energy, he stood, spinning in a circle, arms outstretched to the sky. “Thorne, I’ve destroyed one of your beloved Shadow Walkers, won’t you come out and play?” There was no reply from the persnickety god. He tried another tact, itching for a fight. “Terya, I’ve annihilated one of Thorne’s precious warriors, won’t you punish me?” She didn’t deign to answer him either. Fine. In time, they would learn to heed him.

Voices penetrated his intoxicated senses. A tour group caught in the rain, rushing down the street looking for shelter. An ugly grin worked its way across his face.

How apropos. A ghost hunting pilgrimage. He’d give them a sight they’d never forget. Stepping out of the alleyway, his body softly glowing, as Kendrick’s essence churned through his skin, mixing with Solien’s red. The colors played across his skin, lending him an otherworldly glow. The sheep were almost to shelter, their salvation lay ahead in the form of a welcoming, dry pub. But it was not to be, not this day.

Today he would destroy. As he appeared in front of them, the group stopped, gaping at his appearance. There must have been forty humans huddled together, miserable with the rain pelting them. Before they could protest or scream, he willed himself to become the rain, dissolving into multi-colored raindrops. The tourists goggled at the spot where he’d stood, mouths agape. Solien burned through them all, stealing energy as their life-force filled him. As each tourist withered away, dropping dead on the wet cobblestones, his power swirled in the air. Sated, he re-formed into his human guise. While he despised the humans, he wore the guise—much easier to destroy when you looked the part. The storm was dying down, turning to a gentle mist as the clouds parted and the moon shone on a pile of bodies—grandmothers and grandfathers curled together like puppies. With a snap, his wings lifted him to the air. He headed to Kessock. Tonight he would feast, drain the entire town dry. Let the humans pray, they would find no mercy. On this night the Lord of demons was among them, and his name was Solien.

Getting canned sucked. Monroe squinted at the blinding light blasting through the broken slats on the blind and pounding into his head like an ice pick. Well, okay it was a normal muted early winter day but to his throbbing head, he was on a greek island in the middle of summer. Cracking an eyelid a bit further, he rolled onto his side. Passed out on the couch again. Empty beer bottles were scattered throughout the flat like confetti and another empty Glenfiddich bottle seemed to be accusing him of being a loser.

What time was it? Hell, what day was it? The last thing he coherently remembered was coming home to his hovel laden with booze and drinking himself into a stupor then imbibing some more.

Groaning, he sat up, head in his hands, willing the room to stop spinning. Maybe some food would help. Staggering the few feet to the small galley style kitchen, he cracked open a cabinet. Nada. Not a can of soup or stale box of cereal in sight. When was the last time he’d been to the market? Damned if he could remember. Didn’t even have fucking instant coffee on the counter. The sink was overflowing with dirty, disgusting dishes. Regarding the science experiment, he wondered if he should simply throw them out and start over. The fridge might contain something more promising. Cracking the door, he gagged, praying his stomach would hold it together. Curious, he opened the door wider. There was a Styrofoam container with some kind of moldy slime oozing onto the shelf. The other contender for the stench was what looked like a partially eaten sandwich. It was covered with blue, grey, and green mold. Kind of an interesting pattern. Too bad he didn’t need any penicillin, he’d bet there was some incubating on his leftover chow. There was nothing else to eat, not even a bottle of mustard or jar of pickles. Sighing, he ambled down the short hallway to the loo.

If his head wasn’t pounding so ferociously he would have high-fived the medicine cabinet. Salvation was at hand. A half-empty bottle of aspirin and a quarter bottle of Guinness on the sink. Washing down a handful, he breathed a bit easier as the flat beer hit his stomach.

Turning the water to hot, he got in, cleaned up and wrapped a towel around his hips. Chanced a peek in the mirror. Nice. Circles under his bloodshot eyes and he’d lost some weight, the hollows in his face making him look ten years older than his thirty-four.

Clothes were scattered across the floor of his bedroom. The bed was rumpled and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d changed the sheets or done laundry. Nothing clean in the drawers except two mismatched socks. Sniffing a few shirts, he settled on a black t-shirt with a stain on the front. Rummaging in the closet, he managed to come up with a black sweater. It was faded almost grey but it would do. No clean boxers to be found. Guess he was going commando today. A pair of Levis 501s didn’t smell too terrible so he pulled them on. Satisfied he’d dressed himself, he found his Doc Marten black boots under a pile of old pizza boxes.

A sound drew his attention. Insistent. Yep, a knock on his door. Had to be his old partner. Not like he had any other friends…except Robert, but that dude would poof into his living room, not bother with knocking. Wait a minute, Shamus would be on-duty. Maybe his landlord was tired of the aroma of eau du lost soul and was serving him with eviction papers? The rap sounded again, louder. Only one way to find out. The pounding in his head had settled down to a jackhammer—things were looking up.

When he opened the door, he couldn’t have been more surprised.

“Hi, I’m Amy from across the hall. You’re Monroe right?”

What a stunner. Hazel eyes were framed by short black hair. A pixie face smiled at him and for the briefest moment he wondered if she was a fairy princess, if they even existed. And that body. Made for sin.

“Uh, can I come in or are you just going to stand there with your mouth hanging open?”

Lust surged through him and he resisted the urge to pull her to him. Great, she was shooting him an odd look. Hell, had she spoken again, and he’d stood there like a complete idiot?

“Right, Amy. Sorry. Come in.” Seeing his living room through her eyes he cringed. If she were smart, she’d run before mold grew on her too. “What can I do for you?”
Besides nail you on the sofa.

“I wasn’t sure when you worked, and I didn’t want to bother you, but I don’t know who else to ask…”

“Look, I’m no longer in law enforcement so I’m not sure what I can do for you.”

God, the look on her face. Don’t let her cry. Nothing was worse than when women cried. “Sit down. I’d offer you something to drink but seems I’m out of everything.” A distasteful look was plastered across her face and her nose was wrinkled up as if she smelled something bad—which she probably did given the state of his flat. “Here, let me clear a spot on the couch. Sorry, haven’t had time to clean either.” Sitting in the only other chair in the room, he gestured to her to continue. “Like I said, I don’t think I can help you but why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind?”