shadows of salem 01 - shadow born (27 page)

Predictably, his hands clamped over my breasts, and that was my moment. I focused all my will at him, envisioning the power that pulsed within Father James’s blackened soul, and wished with all my heart and soul for that power to be mine. A rope of energy snaked out of me and into him, and Father James stiffened as it latched onto the source of his magic.

“You bitch!” he croaked.

Mentally, I yanked with my inner power as hard as I could. His magical energy came spilling out of him, a bright red glow that enveloped us, and the witches cried out. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw them rush forward, trying to help their master, but their clothing and hair caught fire, and they fell back. They would be a problem, but I blocked them out, making sure my attention remained glued to Father James.

I locked my gaze with Father James’s, absorbing the burning hatred and fear in his eyes as I absorbed his power. He was frozen in place, his hands still clamped on my breasts, and his fingers began to shrivel, gnarling up like the ancient man he really was. His face withered next, his skin becoming like paper, and his eyeballs shriveled away. Dried-up skin and flesh crumbled, and within minutes, even the bones of the hands that gripped my chest disintegrated, leaving me covered in a layer of absolutely revolting ash.

If the power Maddock had lent me before made me feel high, it was nothing compared to this. I felt like a goddess as pure energy radiated through my entire body, lighting up every single cell until I glowed, incandescent.

I rose from the table, the ash on my body evaporating, and took a single step toward the witches. They shrieked in horror, then turned tail and ran out of the room.

Flicking my hand in Maddock’s direction, I flung a tendril of power at him. It latched onto his magical bindings, reducing them to nothing. Satisfied he would be fine, I took a step toward the door, intending to hunt down the rest of the witches.

But the more I moved, the hotter the power seemed to burn inside me, and suddenly, it was
too
hot. Pain engulfed me, and it was like the power was turning on me, attacking the very fibers of my being.

“Brooke!” Maddock shouted as I dropped to my knees.

I couldn’t speak, couldn’t see anything except a haze of red, and I knew with terrifying certainty that the power was about to devour me. Even in death, Father James was still trying to kill me.

“Brooke!” Long fingers dug into my shoulders, directing my attention to the man crouching in front of me. Maddock’s leaf-green eyes bored into mine, anchoring me in the sea of pain, and I grabbed onto that lifeline and held on for all I was worth.

“Ye need to transfer some of your power to me!”

“Wh-what?” I croaked.

“Ye’ve taken in too much magic; it’s burning ye up. Ye need to get rid of it! It’s very similar to what ye did to Father James, ye just need to focus.”

It took longer than it should have for his words to sink in, but when they did, I nodded. Just like with Father James, I tossed out a rope of power, latching it onto what I could only describe as Maddock’s soul. But instead of pulling magic out of him, I pushed it
into
him.

Waves of energy flooded outward, and I pushed relentlessly, getting rid of as much as I could. It seemed like it took forever, but finally the pain began to abate, and the power sizzling through my veins returned to a more manageable level.

Panting, we both collapsed against the ground. I pulled my shirt down, covering myself, and closed my eyes. The magic humming inside me was still many times greater than what Maddock had given me earlier, but it was no longer debilitating.

Tilting my head to the side, I watched Maddock. His gaze was latched onto the ceiling, chest rising and falling rapidly. A faint red glow enveloped his body—he was clearly still absorbing the magic I’d given him.

“So,” I said when I’d gotten most of my breath back. “We’re even now, right?”

Maddock turned to face me, his eyebrows raised. “What?”

“You’ve been mad at me for like, half a century, because I stole a bunch of your magic. But now I’ve just given you a bunch of magic—about two thirds of what I’d taken from Father James.” And considering that I’d sensed magic from a variety of supernaturals within him, that was a lot. “So we’re even now, right?”

To my surprise, Maddock gave me a lopsided grin. “We might be, Detective,” he said quietly. “We might just be.”

I smiled back—the first real smile I’d cracked all day. I wanted to hold onto this moment. To this one feel-good split-second in time.

But I had a feeling that killing Father James wasn’t going to end my problems. If the memory Maddock had shown me was any indication, Past Life Me had thought things were going to go downhill from here. I needed to prepare for that eventuality.

I just hoped to hell that I was wrong.

CHAPTER 29

A
fter defeating Father James, clearing the rest of the house was a piece of cake. The witches were engaged in a full-out war with the other supernaturals, so Maddock simply used the ample power flowing through his veins to create a series of illusions that confused everyone and allowed the supernaturals to make a break for it. It pained me to watch so many vampires rush out into the night, wild and free, but there was no time to go after them—I needed to make sure Jason was safe.

“Go find the boy,” Maddock growled, not looking at me. He’d herded the witches together into the main hall and was performing some kind of spell that would trap them in an alternate dimension. “The last thing I want to find out is that after all this, he was killed.”

No kidding. Part of me wanted to stay and watch what Maddock was doing—the strange chanting and waving of his arms was changing the air, causing a variety of crisscrossing glowing blue lines to appear above us. But Maddock was right, so I tore my gaze away from the scene and left.

It didn’t take me as long as I’d feared to find Jason. He was huddled in a closet only a few rooms down from the one where I’d had my final showdown with Father James. When I slid the closet open, he jumped, raising his forearms over his head to ward me off.

“Jesus,” I muttered. He was still only dressed in that pair of boxers. I shrugged my blazer off, then held it out to him. “Come on, kid, let’s get you covered up a little. It’s freezing outside.”

“I-I’m sorry I left you,” he stammered, struggling to his feet. His dark, haunted eyes were full of shame, and he wouldn’t meet my gaze even as he slipped my coat on. The fabric strained against shoulders that, even not fully grown, were almost too wide.

“Don’t be. I told you to leave, and I meant it. You would have only been in the way.” I winced at the way the words came out. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, I deserve that.” Jason raked a hand through his black hair, turning his face away from me. “I deserve every mean thing you’ve got to say about me, so go ahead and let it loose. I fucked up. I treated my mom like shit, and my obsession with wanting to become a vampire led to this whole mess.”

“Jason.” I clapped a hand on his shoulder, and he flinched. “Jason. Look at me,” I said, hardening my voice, and he slowly turned his gaze back to mine. “I could say all kinds of things to make you feel guilty, to make you think you’re the worst scum on this earth for what you put your mother through and for all the stupid choices you’ve made that led you here.”

He flinched, but didn’t drop his gaze, and my estimation of him rose a little.

“But,” I added, softening my voice now, “I’m not going to do that. I think this experience has been punishment enough, and I think you’ve learned your lesson. You’re just a good kid who made some bad decisions. You know what you need to do now, though, don’t you?”

Jason nodded slowly. “I need to apologize to my mother. And do whatever I can to set things right between us.”

“That’s right.” I squeezed his shoulder again. “Look, this isn’t going to be easy for you to hear, but you need me to say it, so I will.” I paused, took a breath. “Whatever relationship you had between you and your father…that’s never going to change. Whatever kind of man he was, he was your father, and there’s no shame in missing him. But he’s not here now, and your mother
is
. And so is your little brother, the only other piece left of your father aside from you.”

“I know.” Tears streamed from Jason’s eyes now, and he swiped hastily at them. “It’s just…I know what mom says about him, but he was my father.”

“Yes. But you need to cherish what you have left, and stop holding onto what’s already gone. That means you need to stop chasing after your father’s ghost, and start taking care of your family. You’re the man of the house now. They need you.”

It was kind of healing giving that little speech, because it was just as much for him as it was for me. I knew how he felt about his father, because that’s how I felt about Tom. The horrible truth couldn’t erase years of conditioned emotions. But Jason and I both needed to let go of the ghosts of our pasts.

A feeble groan echoed from somewhere, and Jason and I froze.

“What the hell is that?” he whispered, terror in his voice.

“Stay here,” I ordered. I grabbed my gun, then sidled out into the hall to see what was going on. Had Maddock missed one of the witches? But there was nothing to be seen. Just the empty corridor with its flickering candles and dusty portraits.

The groan came again, and I cautiously moved up the hall, heading in its direction. The hairs on the back of my neck rose as I realized it was coming from the hidden room where I’d defeated Father James. What the hell was going on? Was there a wraith in the room?

I entered, bracing myself to see the specter of Father James. Yeah, it sounded ridiculous, but after everything I’d seen in my life—and especially tonight—I wasn’t about to discount the possibility.

But instead, I saw the phoukas, lying on the ground. I’d thought it was dead, had completely forgotten about it, but it was twitching, clearly trying to get to its feet.

As though the thing sensed my presence, it rolled to face me. Glassy eyes stared up at me, filled with a combination of hope and despair. My heart clenched as I realized it was hoping that I might kill it and put it out of its misery, and afraid that I would instead leave it here to suffer.

“Bloody hell!” Maddock swore, and I jumped.

Spinning around, I saw him standing just two feet to my right, behind me, his murderous glare latched onto the phoukas. Okay, so maybe the despair hadn’t been directed at me after all.

Maddock growled. “I thought the damn thing was dead!”

“I’m guessing you finished imprisoning the witches?” I asked dryly.

“Damn right.” Maddock advanced on the thing, and it curled up into a ball, retreating against the wall. “But it seems that my work here is not yet done.”

“Stop.” I put myself between Maddock’s bulk and the pathetic creature shivering on the floor. “I’m not going to let you hurt him.”

“Hurt
him
?” Maddock bellowed. “I’m not going to hurt
it
; I’m going to kill it! It’s a fucking unseelie!”

“So what?” I shouted back. “You just let a horde of vampires go free into the night, and you’re going to bitch at me because I’m willing to let this phoukas do the same? He’s been tortured and drained for who knows how long, and he deserves to taste freedom now that we’ve killed his captors.”

“Yer insane,” Maddock said flatly.

“Bite me.”

Ignoring Maddock, I turned away, then crouched down next to the phoukas. He trembled as I reached out with my hand, but with nowhere to go, the creature was forced to endure my touch. I placed my palm on its smooth, almost glass-like skin, then focused on tethering that rope. The phoukas’s eyes widened as I forged the connection, and he began to glow faintly as I transferred power into him. Not nearly as much as I put into Maddock, but enough to breathe energy back into him.

Before my eyes, I watched the emaciated, beaten creature swell, its skin and muscle returning to its previous shape and luster. Long black hair, previously matted, turned into nearly downy-soft strands as he stood.

“Filthy vermin,” Maddock grumbled from behind me, but I ignored him as I got to my feet as well.

“I feel…strong.” The phoukas looked down at its hands in wonder, as if it couldn’t believe they were real. “Stronger than I’ve felt in…I cannot even remember. I cannot even recall what I was like before I came here.”

“How long have they held you?” I asked carefully. My heart swelled with a combination of happiness and sympathy for him. Perhaps unwise, since he was unseelie, but what could I do? I felt how I felt.

“I don’t know.” The phoukas’s voice was hollow as he lifted his gaze to mine. “A century, perhaps? Maybe longer. But I am free now.” He bowed, his long hair swinging forward with the motion. “I am in your debt, Brooke Chandler. If you ever have need of me, call my name, and I will come and grant you any single favor that is within my power to do so.” His voice whispered in my head then, and somehow I knew he was telling me his name.

“Be well,” he said, and then he launched himself past Maddock and out of the room.

I faced Maddock and arched an eyebrow at the look of utter disbelief on his face. “What are you looking at?”

“Ye just earned a favor from an unseelie.” The shock in his voice told me this was an extremely rare event. “A no strings attached favor.”

“Well, I guess that’s what you get for doing good deeds,” I said casually, not really interested in making a thing out of it. I had no idea what I wanted to do with this favor, and with everything that happened, I was desperate to put it out of my mind. I stepped past him, and my heart dropped into my shoes as my gaze latched onto Tom’s body. The pool of blood that had spread beneath him was already starting to dry, and his fingers were curled stiffly at his sides, already well into rigor mortis.

“Stop.” Maddock gently grabbed my arm as I moved toward Tom. “Ye dinnae want to see him like this.”

I hesitated. Part of me thought that it would give me closure, to turn Tom’s body over and see his dead face for myself. But after what he’d done to me, after the utter betrayal I’d suffered at his hands, I could hardly stand to look at him, never mind touch him. I didn’t want the real Tom. I wanted my memory of him—of what we’d had. Seeing him would be too confusing for my emotions.