Page 59 of Shadebound
He didn’t answer right away.
Instead, a moment passed.
Then:It started with deaths. Ritualistic serial killings. Bodies were left in public view. Necks sliced open. Runes carved into flesh. No blood left in them at all.
My blood went cold.
I clenched my fist beneath the desk, nails biting into my palm.
Zayden must’ve felt the shift, the way my hand tensed without warning. He didn’t say anything. He just set the pen aside and laced his fingers through mine. His thumb moved slowly across my skin, tracing shapes I couldn’t quite place.
I didn’t speak. I doubted I could when I was so focussed on the voice in my head. But the contact was enough. So I let Zayden stay there, and I stayed with Death.
As I thought of my sister. Of how she’d looked when I... when I’d found her.
When my shadows had felt her die, and I had raced to find her.
She’d been killed exactly like that. Neck sliced open, cut down to the bone. Her body covered in runes. Every mark made while she was still alive. Not random. Not impulsive or hurried. Someone had taken their time. Had known what they were doing. It wasn’t a murder. It was amessage.
And no one ever figured out why. Even me.
The weight in my chest was too much. I couldn’t breathe right.
It’s not finished. Death whispered.It is not over.
The killer at Mors?I wondered, heart racing too much for me to handle.Is that why they’re doing it? For the plague... or for a new one?
Both. Death replied.She was chosen for bothand more will be chosen too. It will not stop.
Before I could ask more, a loud crash broke through the quiet. A desk scraped harshly against the stone floor. Chairsshifted. Voices rose louder than my heartbeat. A group of shifters at the back had started pushing each other. It looked careless, but it wasn’t. They were clearly mad about something stupid. Something I couldn’t care less about right now.
Because my sister had been murdered for aplague. For meaningless magic.
For a pathetic fucking monster to do some heinous things, they could have sacrificed anyone else for.
One of the shifters shoved Tyler too hard and stumbled. He slammed into Draven’s chair. The legs skidded with the impact.
Draven stood up, eyes narrowed, hands moving. I thought perhaps he was going to sign something rightfully rude.
Then hepunchedTyler. Hard enough to make the pathetic dragon stumble once more.
The dragon-shifter responded with another shove. This one had an intention behind it far worse than before. He raised his large hands, and somehow, someway... Ireactedto it.
I reacted to hisviolence. Not towards me. Not when I was in danger, or pain.
But because ofDraven. Because of Bells. Because of every ounce of emotion bubbling under my skin that I couldn’t work out how to deal with.
My shadows flared despite the cuff. Tendrils snapped outward from my skin, fast, deadly and controlled. Without thought, they shot across the room to Tyler, and coiled around his throat. I shoved my chair back at the same moment, shooting to my feet with all the hatred I felt earlier simmering through me once more.
I could handle him hurting me. I could heal and live with the pain.
But nobody in this godforsaken hellhole would lay a hand on my brother.
Nobody would touch what wasmine.Not to harm, or take them away from me again.
Nobody would breathe in the world I could control without my permission. Without malice towards my loved ones or creatures. Not in the darkness thatIruled. And not surrounded by the shadows that would kill them all.
Iwouldkill them all. Easily.Happily. They were nothing. Just flesh suits with magic I could take. Magic I could watch bleed from every orifice until satisfied.
