Page 63 of What Hunts Inside the Shadows

Caldris grunted, pursing his lips thoughtfully as he stared down at the man. There was nothing hostile in his expression, only a resigned truth. “Your lifespan is the blink of an eye. I will rest my head tonight, and by the time I think of you again, you’ll already be dead.”

The man’s mouth snapped closed. It was not easy to be faced with the reality of our own mortality, with the fact that while we could die easily, the Fae had lived for countless centuries. Many of them would continue to live centuries more, and the Primordials—who some of them were the very children of—had been alive before the dawn of creation.

“We intend to leave you in peace when we depart. There is no reason that our relationship needs to extend beyond this day,” I said, taking the man’s attention off of Caldris.

Caelum. The more I reached out to him with an open heart, the more I longed to separate the man I loved from the legend who controlled the dead. Even if only in my own mind.

“You are taking some of us from our home by force. We will never part as anything but enemies,” the man said, his glare unsettling me as he turned his face down to the shackles on my wrists. “How can you wear those? How can you willingly stand beside someone who would treat you as a prisoner?”

“Because even though I may be shackled, he’s offered me more freedom than any of the humans in my past have,” I said, raising an eyebrow at him. Even if Melian had wanted to promise me a life where I’d be free to make my choices, I would have been trapped within the walls of the Resistance.

Freedom of will came within a cage in Nothrek.

Caelum would do whatever he had to do to make sure that I could roam freely through Alfheimr, and that kind of freedom was something that I would never be able to find in the human realm.

My mate grunted, drawing the man’s attention back to him with a startled look. “Where is the witch?” he asked, looking over the other man’s head for a sign of the breathtaking woman with the hair that glowed like moonlight.

“I am here, Caldris,” she said, stepping out from the group of Fae Marked who surrounded her. She clasped her hands in front of her, hanging her head low as she moved through the crowd that parted for her. Whether it was out of respect or hatred, I couldn’t tell, but the emotion that clogged my throat as I realized the truth must have only been a hint of the betrayal they felt.

“You knew who he was all along, didn’t you?” I asked when she finally stopped before us, her moonlit-night gaze finding mine and holding it.

“I did,” she agreed, nodding thoughtfully. “We’ve met before, a very long time ago. The Lunar Witches are close with his mother, Twyla, as she is the Goddess of the Moon.” She reached out, touching her fingers to mine and raising them so that she could inspect the darkness that tainted my skin. Hers were stained with black, stars glimmering as if she’d dipped them into the night sky itself and managed to trap them within her skin. All too similar to mine, but the stars on mine were far subtler, as if the shadows of the night had been far more prevalent on the evening I touched the sky. “What is this?” she asked, turning my hand over in her grip.

“We aren’t sure; there must be something in my lineage—”

“You are a child of the dark. Whatever is in your lineage must have an association with that magic for you to bear this mark. Your mate is aware of that,” she said, turning a glare his way as if she could force him to wither on the spot with only a look.

“Yes,” he said, drawing out the word as if it was an admission in itself. “But that could be any manner of creature.”

“It could, and the markings are not consistent. Two siblings with the same lineage could have entirely different manifestations. This is only one symptom,” she said, dropping my hand to my side. “You were looking for me. What is it you require?”

“When we spoke before, you confirmed that Mab’s daughter was brought here after the construction of the Veil. I have to take her back to Alfheimr with me,” Caldris said, and Imelda squeezed her eyes closed.

“And if I am unable to provide you with the information you seek?” she asked, her fingers twitching at her sides. I could almost feel the pulse of power as she maneuvered her hands carefully, drawing a subtle pattern on her thigh.

I reached out, stilling the hand that had performed what I could only imagine was the beginning of some kind of spell. Whether it was to defend herself or attack I couldn’t be sure, but she glanced down at my hand that held hers and twisted her head to the side, her brow furrowing as she studied me.

“I will burn what remains of the Resistance to the ground to find her. The order came from Mab herself, and you know as well as any that I am bound to complete that order. No matter what it takes, Imelda,” Caldris explained, making Imelda heave a sigh.

She nodded once as I released her, turning to look over her shoulder. “Fallon,” she called, summoning a woman forward. I recognized her from the common cavern that first night we’d arrived in the tunnels and seen her in passing for a few brief moments in the time we’d spent here afterwards. She was a few years older than I, her dark hair gleaming as it hung down past her shoulders. One side was twisted into two braids that pulled away from her face and clung to her skull, revealing the deep line of a single scar that started at the center of her forehead and slashed through her eyebrow. It reappeared on her cheek, fading into the line of her jaw. Her eyes were wide-set and hazel, dark compared to her pale skin. Imelda put a hand on each of the woman’s shoulders, pulling her forward to stand before her.

“This is her?” Caldris asked, tilting his head to the side as he studied her, perhaps searching for any hint of recognition of his tormentor’s bloodline within her. I wasn’t certain how lineage worked with reincarnation; how someone could still be Mab’s daughter after centuries of living and dying and being reborn to new parents. That kind of power had to be etched upon our souls, carrying through our lives in some way.

“I don’t know,” Imelda admitted, her fingers grasping Fallon more tightly. Fallon’s lips turned down into a frown, whatever truth Imelda planned to share something she wasn’t entirely aware of.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Caldris asked, his irritation leaking into his voice as he studied the witch.

“There were two children, two girls brought to us for protection the night the Veil was formed. Fallon is one of them and could very well be the daughter you seek,” Imelda admitted, hanging her head.

Caldris stilled at my side, his body tensing with the words Imelda spoke. I only knew he’d believed Mab’s daughter to be with the Resistance because it was the entire reason for his deception and infiltrating their numbers in the first place. What could possibly interest the witches in the way Mab’s daughter could? “Two children?” he asked, tipping his head to the side as he considered the words. His shock was evident in the silence that followed.

I cleared my throat, breaking it. “How do you know? That was lifetimes ago.” I studied the woman standing in front of me. She stared back at me, as interested in me as I was in her.

“She bears the witch’s mark,” Imelda said, reaching down to take Fallon’s hand in hers. She raised it, showing me the white crescent moon that appeared to be burned into Fallon’s skin—a magical brand.

“It is a mark that each clan of witches has the ability to place upon the souls of the people they are tasked with protecting,” Caldris explained, his body remaining tight at my side. “It is not done often, but each clan can only produce the one mark. So the girls would both share the same one, if what Imelda says is true. If the girls were both in the Void at the same time, there would be no telling which was which by the time they were reborn.”

“But where is the other girl?” I asked, looking from him to Imelda. Our ability to return to Alfheimr, to stop in Catancia and complete our bond before we could rally against Mab, depended on him finding her daughter to complete his duty to her.

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