Page 73 of Stroke of Shadows

His beast had chosen.

Unfortunately, he’d chosen the one woman he couldn’t have.

Chapter 25

Sythe

Sythe tracked the Leader as she carefully completed the circle, the concrete floor of the church scorched from previous spells. He’d placed himself by the door, the perfect guard to stand watch. And stay out of the way.

Lorraine finished her work, and Sythe wondered where a human had learned how to create a summoning circle. Except it wasn’t like any summoning circle he’d seen before. The lines were strange, jagged and incomplete. The ends were left open, a finger space between the strokes. If Sythe hadn’t been watching her for the last ten minutes, he’d have thought it was someone’s attempt at abstract art.

Standing back, her foot rubbed against the salt that lay across the outer edge, knocking over the granules. Wyatt noticed, but uncharacteristically said nothing.

“You know how to complete it,” she said, looking up at him. Her red hair was plaited to her skull, so tight it seemed to stretch her skin. “I’ll be above, praying between the flames.”

Her attention lingered for a few seconds too long before she turned to leave, her long white cloak scraping against the harsh concrete. Before she could reach the stairs, Wyatt reached out and gripped her upper arm.

Lorraine turned her head, and without a word, reached inside her cloak and pulled out a blood-stained cloth.

“My thanks, as usual, my Leader,” he said, a smile teasing his lips.

Her eyes seemed to glisten. “May the Light guide you. Both,” she added when he released his hold. “And give sanctuary from the darkness.”

Wyatt waited until she’d ascended before he reached down and teased the salt back into the correct line.

“You’re fucking the Leader, aren’t you?” Sythe said with a chuckle. “I’m not accepting any other explanation.”

Wyatt remained crouched. “You know she must remain untouched for the duration of their service. It’s part of the cost of hearing the Gods.” Wyatt’s smirk deepened. “Doesn’t mean she doesn’t have other holes, though.”

Sythe groaned. “Only you could get away with that, rich boy.”

Wyatt gestured to the black candle just out of his reach. Sythe grabbed it, and as soon as he’d handed it over, Wyatt placed it on top of the granules. He flicked open his silver lighter, and when it failed to produce a flame, he tried again.

“Fucking thing,” he muttered.

Sythe crossed his arms, hovering just behind. “I don’t even know why you have that.”

“It was my uncle’s. A gift, you could say.” The lighter clicked open with a spark, but still no flame. “It marks the day I became a man.”

“Harper’s dad?”

“We share the same name, you know.” The lighter flicked open once more, and finally a flicker burst to life. “The day I took this was the first time I killed someone. It’s sentimental.”

Reaching over, he lit the wick.

“You want to prep me?” Sythe eyed the candle. “This looks like some weird magic shit.”

“That’s because it is some weird magic shit.” Wyatt raised to his full height. “My father’s not willing to adapt, but I am.”

He threw the blood-soaked cloth onto the candle, the edge catching alight with an audible hiss. The fabric disintegrated in seconds, the yellow flame turning black.

“It’s time I took my position seriously, which means I need to solidify my own alliances.”

The concrete rumbled, Wyatt staggering back as the centre of the salt circle cracked.

Sythe grabbed Wyatt, pulling him back just as a hole opened, swallowing much of the floor. Keeping Wyatt back, he concealed his chi, strangling his beast as Daemonic magic erupted all around them.

Claws appeared from within the gape, and Sythe pulled out his gun and aimed. Not that his gun would do much against a Shadow-Veyn. But it was the appropriate reaction to the situation.

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