Page 66 of Shadow Bound

“I know this…”

“What I’m trying to tell you is, it’s possible to see the light in life after being surrounded by darkness for so long. Things won’t always be so heavy and bad.” Winnie gives me a playful wink. “And if my suspicions are right, I think the shadows might already be lifting for you. There’s light in your future, Beau. You just have to let it shine, don’t fight it.”

“Are you talking aboutRansom?He’s light? Did you miss the part where he’s a hunter like me? He isn’t exactlylight.”

“Oh my god, Isabeau, it was ametaphorand you went and ruined it.” She lines up her shot with the rifle. “Don’t be so fucking literal.” With that, she pulls the trigger, the sound of the gun booms through the woods. The sound pierces my ears making my head hurt even more. The pain in my head only makes the nausea worse.

“Ransom isn’t—”

The vomit I’d been holding back all day finally comes surging to the surface. Turning away quickly, I stumble into the woods, not wanting to get sick in front of Winslow. I barely make it fifteen feet through the tree line before I’m falling to my hands and knees, my stomach contents making their disgusting reappearance.

I don’t know how long I heave, but at one point, hands gather up the hair that had fallen into my face and a hand rubs my back in a way I’m guessing is supposed to be soothing. I’m still fairly unfamiliar with nurturing gestures. Ransom is the first person who’s ever touched me and not wanted to hurt me at some point.

“Holy crap, dude. I didn’t know vampires could toss their cookies.”They can’t.

Even my fae side has an impenetrable immune system.I can’t get sick. It’s impossible.

My skin feels clammy, a cold sweat breaking across it. I dry heave for a couple of minutes, but eventually nothing comes up. My stomach shockingly feels better, the pain in my head is still there, but for the moment, my belly ache and nausea are gone. A plastic water bottle is suddenly dangled in front of my face. Gratefully, I take it from her hand and swish a mouthful around my mouth.

“You’re not pregnant, are you?”

I almost choke on the water. Spitting it in the dirt, I ask dryly, “Is Ransom my mate?”

“Well—” She starts but I quickly cut her off.

“No, he isnot. Last I checked, shifters could not impregnate someone who isn’t their bonded mate.” Plus, me a mother?That has bad idea written all over it.With a groan, I turn around to face her. She’s going to have questions and I don’t have answers. I hate not having answers.

When she looks at my face, she blanches. Wide-eyed, her eyes dart between my face and the vomit. “Beau. What’s wrong with you?”

Confused, I look at what had come out of me. I expect it to be bright red, like the blood I consumed this morning, but it’s not. With a hand that’s shaking, I wipe my mouth and look down at my fingers.Black. Like coal.

Dread and unease grow in my bones. Shaking my head, I look up at her. “I don’t know.” My voice is barely a whisper. “Am I dying?” The question slips through my lips before I can stop it.

“What? Hell no you aren’t. You just got here, you’re not allowed to leave us so soon.” A wave of determination passes over her face. Marching closer she loops her arms under my armpits, heaving me up to my feet. “Come on, up you go. I know just the person to take you to.”

“I’m not going to a doctor, Winnie.”

“Who said anything about a doctor?”

* * *

A psychic shop.

She brought me to a psychic shop. After sneaking off the territory without alerting one of the Weylyn brother’s—turns out that between Winslow, a former teenage runaway and me, a trained assassin, we make a pretty sneaky pair—she drove me to a fairly unsuspecting building off Main Street. From the outside, it looks like just any other shop on the road, but the second you walk through the doors, you’re proven wrong pretty quick.

The entire shop is cluttered with different witch and occult items. Every inch of the dark walls is covered in framed pictures and posters. One bookshelf, so full of crap it looks like it’s going to cave in on itself, sits on one wall. Plants and charms hang from the ceiling. In the middle of the space is a round table with five chairs around it. A deck of Tarot cards sits in the middle of it. The scent of different scented candles fills the space.

Winslow looks completely at home here, moving through the shop like she owns the place, and then I remember this is the shop she works part time at. This is her aunt Esme’s shop.

“You brought me to see a witch?”

“Funny enough, I asked Ranger the same question when he dragged me here when we first met, but Esme knows like…everything. She’ll know why you puked up that black stuff.”

Winslow moves to the base of the wooden stairs off to the side. “Esme!” she calls up them.

“Winnie?” A voice floats down. “What are you doing here, dear?” The question is followed by the sound of rustling and then soft footfalls. Soon enough, a woman wearing a wildly colorful patterned shawl descends the stairs. Her hair is curly and dark, though starting to gray. Her eyes, which are as black as night, find me standing awkwardly by the door. “Is this her?”

“Yep!” Winnie confirms, popping the ‘p’. “This is Isabeau, our badass vampire-fae hybrid with questionable social skills.”

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