Page 47 of Sanctuary of the Shadow
Eventually, an eerie silence fell, and she slowly lowered her hands. Something was still out there; she could sense it. She held her breath, knowing better than to make a sound, though the urge to scream was overwhelming.
And then…itfound her.
The monster floated down, directly in front of the broken beam of wood sheltering her from view. Her hands shook. Though she had never seen death before, she knew her mother and the rest of her clan were gone.
And she knew the monster would kill her, too.
Trembling, she forced herself to meet its gaze. It stared back at her.
It was completely black, like a void. Like a bottomless pit that sucked all color and shade into itself. Could such a being exist at all in daylight?
There was no defined edge to its form, but she could discern the outline of a powerful body, great wings arcing high above, long claws reaching forward to grab her. Its face was equally shadowy except for gleaming white fangs. And its eyes…
She stared into those fiery eyes and waited for death.
But it never came.
The creature stared back at her, its shadowy head tilting to one side and then the other. And then, without warning, it dissolved, its incorporeal form dissipating like smoke from an extinguished candle.
Scrambling to the edge of her shelter, she peeked out into the night. She caught a glimpse of a wisp of black shooting across the full moon before it whisked away and was gone.
…
Harrow awoke with a start and stared at the dark ceiling. The grief and pain threatened to choke her. Her heart was pounding, her eyes wide and unseeing.
The memories… She had relived them all. Her mother, her clan sisters… At last, she had remembered the night of their deaths.
And what had killed them.
She’d always known what came after—she’d been found the next morning, cowering beside her mother’s body, and then brought to the last remaining Temple of the Goddess in the region. There, a kindly priestess had instructed her to cover her ears and never tell a soul what she was.
Shortly after, the circus had passed through. She’d met Malaikah and formed an instant bond, and when Salizar had offered her a place among his people, she’d accepted easily. She’d always wondered if Salizar had come for her on purpose or if their meeting had been coincidence, but she’d never dared to ask him and wasn’t sure he’d tell her anyway.
As for the night of the murders, well, everyone had heard the rumors of the Fire Queen’s deadly assassins, but most doubted they were real. After fifty years, the mysterious extinction of the Seers and the monsters responsible had become the stuff of legends. And with her fragmented memories of that traumatic night, even Harrow had begun to doubt their existence.
But now, she knew.
She hadn’t been able to remember what a wraith looked like. Now, she did.
She started to tremble. She heard Salizar’s voice in her head saying,I’m telling you he is exactly what he appears to be.
But then she heard herself saying firmly,I trust my instincts.He isn’t what you think he is. I would bet my life on it.
Raith was a physical being. She had touched his skin, kissed his soft lips. He may have had some of the characteristics of a wraith, but he was missing the most essential one—incorporeality.
She racked her brain, trying to remember what else she knew of them. Where had they come from? How were they created? Could it be possible that there were other wraiths—wraiths that hadn’t assisted Furie in her brutal war? All she knew of wraiths was that they were mindless, soulless killers. She knew her Raith wasn’t one of them.
Had what she’d seen him do tonight changed her opinion? Did her instincts tell her anything different now?
No, she realized. They didn’t. He may have been a little more prone to violence than she’d anticipated—okay, a lot—but he wasn’t evil, and he hadn’t taken life before. The Water would have told her. The Water had never failed her, and she had to believe in it. To doubt her instincts about this was to doubt everything she’d ever believed, everything her beloved mother had taught her, and she wasn’t ready to go there.
The sudden splashing of water jerked her back to the present, and it was only then she realized she was alone in the bed.
“Raith?” After her distressing dreams, she craved the comfort his presence brought her.
There was no response. She heard water splashing again and figured he must be in the washroom. It seemed a strange time to take a bath, but she could understand.
She waited for more sounds but heard nothing for a long time. So much time passed that she began to wonder whether he was even in there at all. But if he wasn’t, then where was he? And what had been making the noise?
