Shadow Bound (3 page)

T
HE
silk of Talia’s interview blouse slid beneath her fingers in a sigh of delight, but she didn’t have time to linger. Her gaze flicked to her bedside alarm clock. 4:12
P.M.
Her flight left in a little under three hours, and she’d only marked off half the items on her pretrip list.

White blouse, check.

Warped male laughter filtered through her bedroom wall from the apartment next door. Tuesday night. Right about now, the guys would be getting high for band practice. On cue, a bass guitar bellowed an accusatory,
boo, dop, boo, dopdow.
Made the framed painting of one of her mother’s fairy-tale landscapes buzz. Made her teeth buzz, too.

Well, she wouldn’t have to put up with it for much longer.

Talia glided the blouse over her interview suit to latch at the hanger clip of a brand-new suitcase. Just looking at the clothes made her heartbeat skip. Including shoes, panty hose, slip, and two coordinated blouses, the ensemble cost her nearly a month’s rent. On sale. But she didn’t begrudge the expense a bit, not if she got the assistant professor position at UC–Berkeley.

Please, God, let me get this job.
Talia’s silent prayer had been going around in her mind and accelerating her heart to near bursting since she’d received the invitation to visit
Berkeley for in-person interviews.
Please, pretty please, God. Just this one little favor…

“Knock knock.”

Talia turned to find her roommate Melanie at her door.

Oh hell. What now?
The last thing Talia needed was a fight right before she had to leave. Tension climbed the ladder of her spine while the electric guitar next door squealed a chaos of rapid notes.

From her sleek, side-swept coif to her pointy heels, Melanie managed an urban sophistication on a student budget. She already had job offers, and she still had a semester to go on her advanced business degree. A perfectly plucked eyebrow arched as she brought up a hand holding a thick gold bar of Godiva hazelnut chocolate. Sweet heaven and rich, delicious sin wrapped in gold foil.

“Peace offering,” Melanie yelled over the band’s noise.

“Thanks.” Talia took the bar, careful not to touch Melanie skin to skin and be flooded with her negative emotional backwash. Talia forced a smile. She hoped the smile looked more natural than it felt. Melanie had been bitchy from the moment Talia moved in eight months ago. But the rent and location had been too good to move again.

“It’s for after the interview, to celebrate,” Melanie clarified. “I should have congratulated you when you defended your dissertation. It was shitty of me not to, so I’m sorry. I really wish you the best of luck. So…congratulations
Dr.
O’Brien.”

The music cut off at
congratulations.
The shouted
Dr.
that followed did wonders for Talia’s mood. Suddenly she could forgive anything. All her work was going to pay off. Not with money—not in the more esoteric social sciences. But soon—
please, God
—soon she’d have a great job at a reputable university.

Papers, publishing, grants. Oh, my.

Then her own apartment, though rent was astronomical near the Berkeley campus. No roommates, Melanie’s sudden goodwill notwithstanding, but maybe friends. Who knows? If she were very, very good she might get a real life. She might even pass for
normal.
Okay, that was stretching the fantasy a bit. She’d settle for inconspicuous.

“Why don’t we break it open and make the declaration of peace official?” Talia said. Just one square would go a long way toward calming her nerves.

“No. It’s for after the interview.” Melanie waved away the bar and stepped back over the threshold.

Okay, then.
Girl bonding over. But this was nice. Ending on a good note.

Talia tucked the chocolate into her carry-on. No way on earth that delicious bar would survive the wait in the airport, much less until tomorrow evening when the Berkeley interviews, student panel, and campus tour were finally finished.

A new pounding bounced through the apartment. Talia frowned. The persistent thudding did not come from the band next door. It wasn’t quite obnoxious enough, but close.

“It’s the front door,” Melanie said. “I’ll get it. You finish packing.”

“Thanks again. This was really sweet.” But she was already gone. Probably the last time they’d talk, what with the semester winding down to graduation.

Talia turned back to her list.
White blouse, check.
Camisole…

Broken words filtered down the hallway. An unfamiliar woman’s voice dominated, but a low rumble suggested a man was there, too. Talia tilted her head and listened.

“Who did you say you were?” Melanie’s tone hardened with irritation. She was good at that.

Talia stepped forward and peeked down the hall. Melanie gripped the doorknob and was trying to shut the door in their faces, which was rude in the extreme, even from her. Her body rigid with attention, she planted her foot to block the door from opening more.

Something was wrong.

“Well, she’s not here. She studies at the library on Tuesday nights to get away from the band noise, but I’ll tell her you stopped by.”

Talia kept back, waiting a beat. No point in spoiling the lie. Whoever it was should be on their way shortly.

The woman spoke again, but was cut off by a sudden rise in distorted music. Talia strained, but she couldn’t make out any words. The band stopped just as abruptly, the drums dribbling down to a halfhearted
smack-rat-tap.

“No, you can’t come in,” Melanie snapped. “I said she’s not here.”

A loud crack from the front of the apartment jerked Talia’s heart in her chest. She dropped her notepad and darted down the hall.

The front door stood gaping. Melanie lay twisted on the floor in the center of the room, pushing herself up to a pained crawl. The man and woman were just stepping inside the apartment. He kicked the door closed and then leaned up against it, while she scanned the room, lips pressed into an unfriendly smile.

Talia went cold.

Melanie looked up at her from the floor. “They want to see Talia.”

“She’s not here,” Talia echoed. The wide, frightened look in Melanie’s usually confident eyes made Talia both enor-mously grateful and nauseated. Her roommate could have just as easily pointed a finger and been done with this. But then again, Melanie didn’t let anyone bully her.

Melanie stood, eyes narrowing as her spine straightened again.

Talia caught the question in her roommate’s expression—
You know them?
—and returned a shallow shake,
No.

Talia had no idea who these people were. They were young, probably midtwenties. The woman was tall and sleek, with rich, dark hair and ample breasts, but an unfortunate lantern jaw. The guy, leaning against the door, was short and square, his shape accentuated by pleated dress slacks and a tucked polo. He sported an outdated side part like a news anchor from the eighties. The two were incongruous, unlikely partners, but for the similar flatness of their eyes and unforgiving lines of their mouths.

“We can wait,” the woman said, seeming at her leisure in their apartment.

Goose bumps spread across Talia’s scalp and pricked down her spine. She swallowed. “Why do you want her anyway?”

“We’re her ride. She has a date tonight,” she said.

Talia had no dates. Not now, not ever. Guys picked up on her weirdness instantly and kept away. And the thought of getting physical, of letting someone touch her…
No.
Her only companionship was books.

The tall, slick woman stepped closer, leaning into her to closely inspect Talia’s features before moving away. The smell coming from her was beyond foul. The assessment in the woman’s eyes was calculating, cruel, and searching.

Instinctively, Talia backed into the shadows. The grays slipped around her body like silk veils, cold but always comforting. The room darkened. Others might have passed it off as a trick of light or a dimming bulb, but she knew better. Enough to try to control her fear and push the gathering shadows back. It had been a long time since she’d lost control. With effort, she shrugged off the dark again.

The best place to hide was always in plain sight.

“I think you have the wrong person,” Melanie said. “I’m her roommate, and I know for a fact that she is not dating anyone right now.”

“Talia O’Brien, age twenty-six. PhD in anthropology. Her mother was Kathleen O’Brien, died at Talia’s birth from complications due to a congenital heart defect. Raised by her aunt Margaret, also deceased,” the tall man recited.

Guilt and regret stirred to life within Talia over her mother, mixing with the loss of Aunt Maggie. Aunt Maggie who had died in the car accident while Talia crept unwillingly back to life and health, alone in the world at fifteen.

The band’s noise spiraled up again to deafening.

For the memory of Aunt Maggie, Talia swallowed her fear and forced her voice over the music. “Is this a joke? ’Cause it’s not funny.”

The tall woman smiled over her shoulder. “No joke.” She lifted a plucked brow. “You know, you have very unusual eyes.”

Talia felt speared like an insect under examination. She hated when people remarked on her appearance, her eyes in particular.
Exotic,
Aunt Maggie had said once. But
exotic
was too generous.
Strange
would be more accurate. They tipped up a little too much at the outside. And the color had a habit of shifting with her moods. Right now they’d be as dark as her shadow.

The woman gave her a raking once-over. “What did you say your name was?”

I didn’t.

In her peripheral vision, Talia saw Mel reach down to the phone. “I’ve had enough of this,” she bit out loudly. “If this
is
some kind of shitty practical joke…”

Talia knew it wasn’t. This was her deepest fear realized. These horrible people knew she was different, and they were going to ruin everything. She would never find a place to
belong. Not at a university. Not anywhere. Not even when all she wanted to do was bury her nose in books and bother no one.

Talia saw Melanie’s finger press
9-1-1.
Help seemed ridiculous. No screaming sirens could reach them in time. Anything beyond the apartment door was worlds too far away.

In a single blink, the square man was at Mel’s side. He knocked the phone out of her hand, caught the receiver, and replaced it on the cradle. He twitched his other hand out and caught Melanie around her neck.

His mouth formed the words, “None of that,” though his voice was buried in noise.

Melanie kicked out and thrashed with her arms as her face reddened.

Oh, no. Oh, please…
Talia started forward, pushing against the rise in the band’s rock.

“Let her go. I’m Talia O’Brien,” she yelled, clasping the man’s wrist to pull it away from Melanie’s throat. Sickness inundated her, intense and thick, as if her belly were filling up with hot tar. He felt rank, malevolent, and vicious.

Talia craned her head back to the man’s partner. “Tell him to stop.”

The woman smiled with edged condescension. “Ms. O’Brien. It’s my honor to serve you. My master sends his regards and looks forward to meeting you in person.” She turned to her companion. “Finish that one quickly, Grady. We need to get going.”

Grady lifted Melanie off the floor.

“Stop it!” The room was getting darker, but Talia couldn’t help it. “Put her down!” Melanie was almost purple. “Please let her go. I’ll do whatever you want.”

“You’ll do that anyway,” the woman answered. “And Grady’s hungry. If he doesn’t eat now, he’ll be pestering me all the
way back to stop for a little human takeout. And I can’t have that.”

Melanie’s eyes flickered back in her head like some kind of waking REM.

Talia looped her arms over Grady’s outstretched one and put her weight into pulling them both down. He would not budge. He smiled at her efforts. She kicked at him. He seemed flesh enough, but he reacted like stone.

The woman grabbed Talia’s shoulder and pulled her away with such unexpected strength that Talia stumbled backward.

“You can’t hurt him,” the woman said, “it’s useless to try.”

Talia swiped at the tears of frustration blurring her vision.
Please let this be a nightmare.

Then Grady opened his mouth. Opened and opened beyond anything human. He bared his teeth, all sharply pointed and strangely extended, and pulled Melanie toward him. Mouth clamped over mouth.

Talia froze midbreath in horror. She felt a tug in her gut. A tug from a well of life and soul. Not hers, still seated snugly in her body. But an echo of Melanie’s
self
being ripped out, fed upon in a desecration of spirit that scored Talia’s mind and heart.

Utter blackness fell as Talia screamed.

The dark didn’t hide anything from her. It never had. Shadows only deepened color, and textures took on added dimension. Total darkness revealed a realm of sensation as seductive and terrifying as any fertile imagination could conjure.

So she witnessed it all.

Her scream was edged with a strange power, burning up her throat to rend the world. It ripped the dark shadows of her shelter, shredding the layers of her protection into wisps
of smoke that quivered as if harried by turbulent, angry wind. The shape that came out of the wind, emerging from the center of the hell storm, was darkness incarnate, monstrous eyes glowing with purpose. He could only be Death, the heartless devil who’d taken both her mother and her aunt. He was shaped like a man, wrapped in an absence of light, and therefore readily visible to her. He grasped a glittering arched blade. Already twisting in the air, the scythe came down.

The blade did not discriminate. The metal met no resistance as it cut through the couple locked in a gruesome mockery of a French kiss. Grady dropped like dry, boneless matter. A husk. Melanie fell with greater weight. She hit her knees, eyes open and surprised, then toppled sideways with a rough exhalation.

Talia staggered back, her scream redoubling.

The next swing of the scythe took the woman across her belly. She toppled like an old scarecrow. The immediate stench of decay that lifted from the bodies cramped Talia’s stomach with nausea, as if they’d both been long dead already.