Page 1 of Corrupt Shadows

PROLOGUE

Evie... Nine years ago

I barely squeeze my eyes shut in time as my brother explodes into a thousand pieces. Pieces of flesh cascade around me, body parts thudding when they hit the ground. The pungent smell of iron fills my nostrils as the blood splatters across the bare skin on my face, legs, and arms.

My heart pounds, and the blood rushes to my ears, so I don’t hear my mom enter the bedroom until her piercing scream reverberates through the room.

I force my eyes to open, then stare at the space where my brother sat mere moments ago. The only evidence of him is a gruesome tangle of muscle, flesh, and blood. The white cushions around the circle we used to practice the magic that killed him are now crimson soaked. Pillars of smoke spiral atop candles, blown out from the sudden rush of air after my powers had erupted from me.

My mom drops to her knees, her fingers curling against the remains of her son, as if it might bring him back. “Caden!” Her voice sends a deep ache through my chest. “No, God. Please, no,” she blurts as she runs her fingers through parts of his intestines.

I just stare at the blood. There’s. So. Much. Blood.

Reality distorts, and every second feels like an eternity. The world around me blurs, and I don’t realize I’m moving until I open my eyes and I’m standing by my brother’s bedroom door. A shard of bone crunches underfoot when I shift my weight, and I wince. I pinch my arm to make sure I’m not dreaming, but the pain doesn’t reach me through the haze of shock.

What the fuck just happened?

My mom’s accusing stare pins me from across the room. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Instead, my gaze travels to the ceiling, where chunks of flesh are clinging to the white paint.

The tattooed roses covering my legs burn, inked by shadows with a magical pigment that’s impossible to remove. I normally cover the markings branding me as a Fallenmoore witch, as they only aggravated my parents. But with Caden, I’d felt safe.

Until now.

I suck in my first proper breath since he exploded. The darkness inside me purrs in my core, desiring to be let out to play again. It was Caden’s idea to let it out. He was convinced that if I let it out a little, instead of suppressing it like our dad forced me to do, then I could temper it.

But it had been building for years, threatening to combust at any moment.

Reality hits me. Tears fall down my expressionless face as my mom screams. I stumble into the hallway, my hands trembling.

“You killed him!” Her accusation follows me as I run down the stairs. They knew what I was when they took me in, but they thought they could contain it. Every experiment failed.

I failed.

My dad meets me halfway, and his hands grab my shoulders and shake me. “What happened?” he bellows.

Something primal inside my brain urges me to move, my instincts pulling me toward the front door. I disassociate from reality. Unable to answer my dad, I force my way past him. Grief and guilt hit me like a wave, threatening to drag me deeper into my subconscious.

My grip tightens on the banister when I reach the bottom of the stairs. The roar of my dad’s scream booms in my ears when he reaches Caden’s room. Adrenaline kicks in. I killed their son—their only biological child. He was only two years younger than me. His life had barely begun at sixteen.

I shouldn’t have tried to use my magic. My dad warned me. It’s an ancient, deadly magic that the church believed they’d wiped out. I’m sure my parents wish they’d left me to die in that house, instead of adopting me as their own.

Perhaps they should have.

“Evie!” my dad yells from the top of the stairs. I glance up and my heart skips a beat. His face twists into an expression of rage and malice, no longer calm or kind.

I am no longer the six-year-old little girl they saved. I am their son’s murderer and nothing less than the evil they had tried so hard to squash out of me.

My long, dark-brown hair tangles around my face, limiting my view as I race to get outside. My dad’s footsteps are faster now. His rage is palpable, the air around us seeming denser as the death magic deep inside me picks up on the emotional shift in the air. It, like other demonic forces, feeds on anger and hate. Dark emotions fuel it, and keeping it from bursting out of me again is harder than ever.

He’s going to kill me.

I deserve it. Yet something inside me refuses to stop and accept my fate, pushing me to run faster. My fingers shake as I fumble at the lock, then throw the door open.

The cold air hits my face, sending a shiver down my spine. Fingers grip my shoulders and pull me back inside, knocking me off my feet. I land on the carpet, and the air whooshes from my lungs.

My dad climbs on top of me in seconds, and I struggle to draw in a breath under his weight. His thin lips curl as he bares his teeth. Maniacal sadism contorts his narrow face. I’ve only seen that expression on a few occasions, when my magic came out, despite his best efforts to quell it.

“You killed him!” he shouts. His fingers are around my throat, squeezing tighter until each breath is a labor. I kick against him, my nails biting into his skin when I feel the shadow magic pulse through my body. The room blurs, and stars fill my vision.

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