Lost in Shadow (A Shadow Walkers Ghost Novel) (9 page)

He was never prepared for the emptiness, the loss of self, as his power drained from his battered body, leaching out, the air swirling around him, shimmering silver. All Shadow Walkers were helpless during the anniversary of their death. None of their powers worked; most times they were grievously injured, making it easier for Day Walkers to hunt and kill them.

’Twas one thing to be powerless for the usual twenty-four hours every year, but a full week? Bloody hell, he’d have to take her someplace safe before any of the Day Walkers discovered what had happened.

He coughed up blood, chest burning with every breath as he ground out, “We have to leave. Get you to safety…” his voice trailed off.

Hell, broken ribs hurt like a bitch, didn’t matter if you were mortal or immortal. As far as he knew, no Shadow Walker had broken their curse…head pounding, he figured, why think about “what if,” might as well see what would happen in the coming week.

“Colin? Oh Colin! Thank goodness. I can’t believe I was right to look here. Get me to safety? I’m not the one pinned to the wall like a human dartboard.” Emily opened the cell door recoiling. He was chained, spread-eagle to the stone. This couldn’t be for show. His hair was lank and greasy, his clothes filthy, the sleeve of his shirt stained dark brown. Through the tear in his shirt, she could see his arm, encrusted with blood, angry red lines radiating out from the wound. There wasn’t anything in the cell except a bucket…she shuddered to think of having to use a bucket in full view of everyone. As she was thinking about the lack of privacy, the biggest rat she’d ever seen scurried across the floor into the next cell. Stifling a scream, she jumped.

“How do I get you down? We have to get you to a doctor and have that arm looked at. I think it’s infected.” She moved to his side, brushing the hair out of his eyes, her hand coming away with a silver shimmer. Raising his head to look at her, she could see his lip was split, his face battered and bruised. There was blood on every surface…soaking his clothes, on the floor, spattered all over the walls of the cell. Someone or somebodies beat the shit out of him. He looked awful. Putting her hand to her mouth to keep from gasping, she started to gag from the stench. She would be mortified if she threw up on him. Wiping her face, she tried not to cry at the damage that had been done to him, how one human being could be so awful to another she’d never understood.

“Are ye all right? Seem a bit green around the gills.”

“Um, I have a hard time dealing with blood. Something from my childhood.”

“Better close your eyes then lass, there’s an awful lot ‘o it around us.” He sounded amused. How could he make jokes when he must be in agonizing pain? She just looked at him like he was crazy. A memory, crystal clear, came to her. Once when her brother was six, he’d cut open his hand playing on the construction site for a new home. In and out, in and out, she thought she could hear the thread pulling, making a squicking sound as it went through flesh and blood, sewing up the wound. All of sudden she saw black spots. When Emily came to, the doctor was chuckling while putting her up on the next bed. He gave her an ice pack for the back of her head. Her brother was fine. From that day on, she couldn’t stand the sight of blood.

“The keys are hanging on the wall above the table.” Colin rasped as he started coughing, Emily didn’t have a clue how she’d get him out of there. This was not possible; she must be having some kind of delayed response to almost dying. She assumed she was hallucinating or having a walking, talking, daydream. This couldn’t be real. There wasn’t time to get re-enactors down here.
Okay Emily, pull it together and get the damn keys to unlock him. Figure it out later.

Pausing, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to manage Colin on her own, but if she didn’t do something, somebody else would show up to kill him or she’d be back in reality on her way to the loony bin for sure. Best not to think about it too long or she’d run screaming from the dungeon; she’d wanted an adventure—looked like she was going to get more than she bargained for.

Trying a number of keys, precious minutes passed before she found the right one. Unlocking the manacles, she winced, seeing his raw and bloody wrists. Reaching out to try and catch him, she knocked over the stool, Colin fell to the ground.

“Oof, I hear somebody, hold milady.” Colin motioned to the right where a shadow was moving on the stairs. Getting to his feet, he swayed. Shaking his head as if to clear it, she watched him move silently down the dim corridor, past the other cells. How could he get up, let alone walk with the injuries he’d sustained? Was she imagining him here? Turning around to look in the cell, Emily heard muffled grunts and scuffling. Colin staggered back dragging a scruffy-looking man who appeared to be dead but hopefully was only unconscious.

“Wretched boot licker for the Day Walkers.” Colin curled his lip, sides heaving with the effort as he threw the body into the cell and slammed the door shut.

Confused, she looked at him, eyebrows raised to her hairline.

“This human, scum of the earth from looking at him, found out what a Day Walker is, wants to be one, and therefore spends his time playing errand boy for them, hoping to get a shot from Dayne. Immortality is a powerful motivator.”

“Sorry…Day Walkers? Dayne? Immortality? I know it’s Halloween, but seriously, this is so not amusing in the least. What are you going on about? What the hell is a Day Walker?” She stamped her foot, hands on her hips and glared up at Colin, even as the term came back to her—that whisper she had heard.

“Lass, we don’t have time.” Dragging her by the arm, Colin headed away from the stairway deeper into the dungeon.

“Wait, we’re going the wrong way, the exit is the other way.” Pulling away, she cocked her head, listening. “I hear footsteps; Day Walkers or whatever the hell they are, are coming.” Emily’s voice was high, almost a squeak.

“Lass, it will be all right. We’ll take the tunnel.” Colin choked out, staggering against the wall. He was white as a sheet, his skin grey and clammy under the grime mixed with his caked on blood.

Colin needed medical attention; biting her lip in concentration she put her arms around his waist so he could lean on her.

“Maybe this isn’t the best time to tell you—I’m a bit claustrophobic.” Emily’s lip trembled as she tried to put on a happy face. It came out as more of a grimace.

“Don’t be afraid. The tunnel runs under the street to the water, called the Nor Loch. Once we get out we’ll find an inn. I need to rest and contact someone who can help us.” Colin stumbled, wincing. He led them to a corner in the dungeon, far away from the hallway…their only path of escape.

Puzzled, Emily was more than a little ready to give in to a major meltdown when she saw him pushing on a gargoyle’s head set into the stone. Astonished, she gaped as the wall swung open revealing spider webs, darkness and the smell of damp stone drifting up to her nose. Open-mouthed, she stopped short, blinking, causing Colin to trip.

“Bloody hell,” he spat.

“Sorry, I…I was surprised.”

“’Tis okay lass, help me up.” Colin sighed.

Helping him stand she took a moment to catch her breath. Moving slowly they started down the steps—into the yawning darkness.

Okay, hold it together. It’s a hallway without lights. Don’t think about being underground in a stone tunnel with no windows, no light, or no way out if it collapses.

Emily could handle elevators if there weren’t too many people on them while large crowds gave her more trouble. She’d learned to manage situations that set off her internal alarms. When she was seventeen, she flew to Alaska with her mom and had a major panic attack. The plane was large with two seats, then five and then three. She was in the middle of the five-seater row when all of a sudden the walls started closing in. She couldn’t breathe, the seat pressed against her, people were too close, and her whole body started tingling, throat closing up, bile rising—she was going to throw up, had to get off that plane now.

Pulling shut the heavy stone door; they were thrown into total blackness. The tunnel was narrow, and they had to turn sideways to move forward. It was slow going. She smelled the earthen floor, wet stone, and the smell of the past. Almost like the scent of an old library or musty attic. Roots brushed against her face, water trickled down the walls…and the sound of rustling was all around them. The darkness was dense, heavy, pressing in on her from all sides. It was so dark she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face. Clammy and sweaty, she tried not to fall to pieces.

“Please tell me that noise isn’t rats or some giant crocodile getting ready to eat us.” Emily’s voice sounded thin and reedy. She was starting to see spots. How was that possible in total blackness? Well, at least it was something to see.

This wasn’t good, it was the first sign she was getting ready to faint.

“We have to keep going. You
can
do this Emily. The ones after us will be wondering how we escaped. ‘Tis only a matter of time before the entrance to the tunnel is discovered.” Colin wheezed.

She couldn’t faint, not now. Colin would fall again, further injuring himself slowing them down and they’d get caught by these mysterious Day Walkers. She couldn’t imagine what would be done to them if they were caught but it couldn’t be good from the urgency in his voice, the injuries on his person. As scary as he could be, if something scared
him,
it must be pretty damn bad.

Her arms trembled supporting his weight. Her hands were sweaty, and she reeked of fear. Wanting to calm her, to reassure her it would be okay, he soothed, “Lass, hold tight to me. Nothing will harm ye down here. There are no crocodiles in Scotland so don’t worry about being eaten by one. I know Yanks have those legends about the sewer systems in New York and other cities, but no worries here in Scotland.”

Gods, he wanted to stop, take her in his arms to comfort her, stroke her hair, and tell her nothing would ever hurt her. To tell her he would slay whatever dragons appeared in order to protect her.

He berated himself, stop acting like some whipped boy being led around by the nose and move on. She would betray him like Abigail. He didn’t have time for her emotional breakdown; he had to get her out and find a safe place to rest before the Day Walkers caught up to them.
She thinks she’s scared now, wait until a group of those bastards show up cutting you down in front of her.

Taking a deep breath was unwise. Coughing up a lung from the pain, he waited. A moment passed, he started again.

“Emily, there may be rats down here, but if there are, it means there is a way out. Rats aren’t going to be trapped; where you find vermin, you find a way to food, water, and an exit. They aren’t paying attention to us. Put them out of your mind. Focus on my voice. Listen to me—I’ll get you through this. Close your eyes…”

“But…I can’t see…anything,” Emily stuttered. “Right, that sounded silly.” She took a deep breath. “I’m closing my eyes.”

Her voice sounded so small and helpless; this brave woman was putting her trust in him. When was the last time a woman had trusted him? How long had it been since he’d let a woman get close. It had been ages since he held someone close, told them he’d protect them from whatever monsters plagued them. Could he do it again? She seemed so vulnerable with those eyes that looked into his very soul. His groin tightened thinking about her full pink lips. She had a habit of biting her bottom lip when she was nervous or worried.

“Close your eyes. I’ll tell you a story to take your mind off of the tunnel. I won’t let go Emily, I swear it,” he promised her.

“Growing up, my brother and I played with some of the village boys. Dougal was a couple of years younger than me, his family had moved from Skye to our village. The lad was always trying to keep up with us, tagging along, chasing after us everywhere we went. One day, we were up at Drummond Keep. It’s a ruined keep where we all liked to play King of Scotland, fight wars, you know, stuff boys do. There was a section leading down to the dungeon with a verra narrow opening covered by bars.

“Think of being walled up inside a wall, nothing but a tiny opening covered with bars to see out. We used to lock up our ‘prisoners’ there and pretend the barred door locked. ‘Twas Dougal’s turn to be locked up as the prisoner. We told him to stay there while we went outside to negotiate his terms for release. Never meant to forget about him, but being boys, we were distracted by a stag, went chasing after it, forgetting all about Dougal. It had started to thunder, lightning, and rain, and Dougal, getting scared, pushed the door to get out. A crack of lightning hit the stone, knocking a piece of the keep loose and a large stone fell, barring the door. The poor lad was trapped all night and the next day until we realized we hadn’t seen him in a while and went looking for him. When we got him out, he didn’t speak for a week, after that he could never abide thunderstorms or small, enclosed spaces.”

“The poor guy. I can relate. Thank you for telling me. I’m exhausted. How far is it until we’re out of here?” Emily whispered. His reply was cutoff as the ground seemed to shift beneath their feet. The vibration turned into a rumbling, building to a roar as dirt rained down. Colin pulled her into his arms, diving into the darkness taking her with him. He cushioned her landing, taking most of the fall on his back.