Page 22 of Corrupt Shadows

The shadow magic deep in my veins burns and tingles its way to settling into every fiber of my being and reminding me of its presence. I can protect myself with it, but I have no clue what that means for the apartment or Gomez. I haven’t used it in years.

Flashbacks of my brother’s body parts coating his bedroom pierce my mind, and I clamp my eyes shut. This isn’t happening.

I blink rapidly, but nothing changes. My family succumbed to insanity. Every. Single. One. Maybe it’s my turn, even if I don’t use my magic.

Rain hammers against the windows, the thunderstorm soothing my soul as I creep through the room, every footstep calculated so I don’t make a sound. Thank God I have carpet everywhere but the kitchen and bathroom.

I scan the cream sofa by the window. The black pillows and throw are in the same place I left them last night, next to my half-eaten croissant on a paper plate. Nothing on the glass coffee table has been disturbed, and my journal lies open on the same page I left it. I stare at the unintelligible scribbles on the page and mentally check off the rest of the items in the room. Nothing is missing, as far as I can tell, and if a normal human had broken in, they’d be the world’s worst burglar. All my valuables are still here, the TV, tablet, and a stash of cash tucked away in a not-so-subtle glass trinket box.

If an Order member broke in, then I’d already be dead.

“Hello?” I say, my voice cracking.

A car backfires outside, and I jump. It’s not even four in the morning. What the hell?

“Is anyone here?” I shout, my magic almost buzzing as my anticipation grows. Silence greets me. I hurry to the kitchen, open my bottle of pills, and pop two. The demon’s trying to fuck with me again; I just know it.

As I wait for the numbness to kick in, I grab my phone and text Rosa.

You awake?

I blow out a shaky exhale and place my hand over my racing heart. Gomez flies in, the fluttering of his wings filling the uncomfortable silence. He lands next to my purse on the counter and tilts his head, those big black eyes somehow softening his worried expression as he folds his wings around himself. “I’m okay, Gomez,” I lie but wrap my arms around myself in a hug.

My phone vibrates, and I quickly glance at the message.

No. I’m asleep, or I was. What’s up?

I run my fingers down my face, closing my eyes to the dimly lit kitchen.

Nothing urgent, I type. Just come see me in the morning. Please. I hit send and reach for my pack of cigarettes. Gomez shoots me a glare.

“I’ll give them up soon,” I promise for the billionth time, but neither of us believe it anymore. I don’t even try to sound convincing.

My phone rings, and I fumble with my cigarettes, dropping the packet before I can even reach the door to the balcony. Rosa’s name flashes on the screen. I shouldn’t have said anything.

“Hey,” I answer, trying to keep my voice from trembling.

Her anxiety is palpable through the phone. “What’s going on?”

“It’s okay, really. Go back to sleep,” I say, feeling like shit that I texted her in a panic. She has a job that actually requires her to wake up at a normal time.

“Don’t do that,” she replies, berating me. “You wouldn’t text me at this time of morning unless it’s important. Please, honey, what’s wrong?”

Her soothing tone reaches deep into my chest, soothing the building ache from fear. I try not to cry, but I teeter on the edge. “It’s…” I don’t even know how to explain what’s happening. “I’m scared.”

“What happened? Where’s Jay?”

I shrug, although she can’t see me. “He had to pull a double, so he stayed behind.” I glance at the fireplace, thinking back to the car and the man in the mirror. It was for the best. If I’m going mad, then I don’t want to keep Jay around, especially since he will probably end up getting hurt.

“I’m coming over.” She hangs up before I can protest, and I sigh. I can’t fault Rosa. She’s there when I need her, which is always. She’d be better off without me. So would Jay. Yet I keep them around and close to me because I can’t let go. That’s always been my problem.

How many more will I end up killing before I learn? No one is safe around me, not my dead brother nor the others over the years who succumbed to so-called horrible accidents at the hands of my magic.

I remind myself that I’m basically a serial killer. I never wanted to hurt anyone, yet a sadistic, twisted side of me surfaces whenever I let my magic out, even a little. So I won’t. I can’t.

Gomez watches me from across the apartment, while I have my inner meltdown and stare at my cigarettes like I’m having a stroke.

I grab the packet, then go to the balcony and slide the door shut before Gomez follows me.

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