Page 3 of Stroke of Shadows

“The Beauchamp’s are your way into the Church.”

“Precisely. I’m going to use the stupid, drug addicted son to get closer to the dad, and then—”

“You’ll gain access to the Church of the Light where you can figure out their connection to Daemons and possibly Gideon,” Jax said, almost bored.

It had been almost two years since the veil between the realms had broken, allowing the Daemons who were once imprisoned their freedom. Once, not that long ago, the Guardians would have hunted down every single Daemon and destroyed them just because of what they were. It was what they were trained to do. What they were brainwashed to believe.

Black magic corrupted the person over time, eating away at their minds until not much of the original man was left. But magic wasn’t an exact science, and it was Lucifer who’d convinced them that not every Daemon deserved judgement. No, only those that actively sought power. And where power was, usually death followed.

Gideon was once the leader of the Daemons, according to Lucifer. The king, with Bishop his second in command. Together, they were a force to be reckoned with.

Good thing the Guardians were created to destroy them.

“Fucking hell, J. Don’t get too excited or you may blow a vein. You make all my detective work sound as thrilling as paint drying.” Sythe kicked at George’s limp leg before glancing up. “Least I won the bet. Guess you’ll be partnered with Lucy next hunt. Don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll behave.”

A low grumble in his chest. “You’ll find he broke because of my words, not yours.”

“Fuck no, he broke because I’ve spent the last twenty-odd hours pulling his finger and toe nails off. Which means I won.” Sythe’s smirk grew as Jax’s scowl deepened. “Don’t worry, I’ll even let you take care of old Georgy boy here, too. Shouldn’t take too long to dispose and clean.”

Jax straightened to his full height, which topped Sythe’s six three by a few inches. “You’re an arsehole.”

Sythe patted his brother on the shoulder as he passed. “What can I say, I'm in a giving mood.”

Chapter 1

Harper

Harper hated being somewhere so busy, preferring to keep to herself as much as possible. She hated the crowds, the not-so-subtle glances and impolite whispers whenever she was in the room. She knew no one was looking at her right then, the people that attended Nightshade an entirely different type to what she usually was forced to socialise with.

No one knew her.

No one knew her name.

No one cared about the ugly brand on her back, or the meaning behind it.

“You look weird,” the woman beside her commented, sipping what must be her fifth cocktail, counting from the empty glasses beside her. “Like you’re about to go into a business meeting or something.”

Harper sipped at her own drink, her first and last if she wanted to keep a clear head. “That’s why I’m here, actually.”

“Really?” The red-head turned to lean her elbow on the bar, eyes slightly glassy. “At Nightshade?”

Harper couldn’t help her smile. “Apparently.” Not that she understood why Mr Beckett wanted to meet her in such a public place. She’d worn a low cut dress with long sleeves, the fabric stretching over her hips and thighs and hit just below her knees. It had been picked out for her, as was everything she wore.

To tease, but not touch, was her uncle’s favourite saying when it came to her attire.

Her hair was purposely kept down, hiding any exposed skin on her back.

“That’s cool, I guess.” The woman blinked, the movement slower than it should be. “I’m Clover, but you can call me Clo. You have a weirdly beautiful face.”

Harper simply smiled, hoping to be left alone and not harassed by someone intoxicated.

“Are you here alone?” Clo asked without missing a beat. “You look a bit out of place. When’s the last time you came to a club like this?”

Never. Not that she would admit that. It wasn’t a place someone like her was supposed to go. It was why she allowed herself to have a single glass of wine, the alcohol helping her nerves. Because Clover was right, she was out of place. She didn’t belong amongst the free-spirited crowd.

She’d heard of Nightshade, a relatively new nightclub over in the Breed side of the city. It was an interesting experience, the music loud enough to vibrate the floor beneath her feet, and the drinks just strong enough to help her relax. Bodies covered in a thin layer of sweat glistened beneath the flashing lights just to her right, the crowd dancing to the unintelligible lyrics blasting through the speakers.

It was a ridiculous venue to meet an important client, not that she was complaining. Many of her meetings were usually held in uninteresting places like offices, or even on the grounds of her family estate. Never somewhere as exciting as a nightclub.

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