Page 2 of Corrupt Shadows

He’s right. I am evil.

It moves inside me, this untamed, untapped power, ready to destroy. I don’t know a lot about my family’s history, but I know they possessed both death and shadow magic. The death magic killed Caden, but this time, it’s my shadows that show themselves.

Vibration builds in my core and darkness seeps around us, enveloping us both in blackness. My body goes rigid under his heavy torso. My heart palpitates, and I kick my legs. My skin tightens into goose bumps, and I can barely think.

Not again.

No.

The shadows move unlike anything I’ve felt before. After spending years keeping it locked inside, careful with every heightened emotion so as not to feed it, having it seep out of me fills me with a thirst for more power.

A blanket of glittering darkness curls around my dad’s body, shadow hands gripping his throat and squeezing. After the years of him inflicting pain to keep my powers away, my magic is thirsty for revenge.

But he was only trying to protect me from myself.

The death magic surfaces, bleeding through my veins like liquid fire. I glance at my dad, who is unconscious with red marks around his throat. The shadows dissipate, and I quickly get to my feet and run out the door before I kill him too.

The sun sets over the horizon as I race down the stone pathway toward the gate, the sky blotting with pink and purple. I spot Mrs. Endrich across the street. Her fingers uncurl when she sees me, and her grocery bags drop to the ground.

I must look like a monster. I am a monster.

The air prickles my skin as I try to contain my powers. I hurry down a hill, turn on a side street, and cut through an empty park. The chains squeak against the gusts of wind swaying the swings, and the roundabout slowly turns. I run my hands along the blood on my clothes and push forward again, despite the burning in both legs.

I don’t stop until I’m under a bridge.

I place a hand over my stomach and lean against a graffiti-covered wall, my lungs aching as I try to catch my breath. My fingers tremble as I quake out a sob. Dry blood cracks atop my knuckles when I curl my fingers. My brother’s blood.

He’s dead. I killed him.

I recall Caden’s eyes when he realized what was happening. My powers thrummed, building to a crescendo as the room vibrated around us.

The reflection of my eyes in his haunts me—black and demonic.

“It wasn’t me. It was the death magic,” I whisper aloud, then repeat it over and over until darkness falls and police sirens wail in the distance.

It’s likely not for me. I may have decimated him with the build-up of magic, but they can’t prove it. Humans don’t believe in magic. But that won’t stop my parents from hunting me to the ends of the earth. Their worst fears came true. This part of me can’t be extinguished. I can’t be fixed. I’m a witch born into the most evil family known to walk this world, the Fallenmoore Coven.

My father, who has been a pastor since I met him, always thought I was a test from God and he could save me from my sins. Now he probably thinks the devil himself placed me in his path.

Maybe I was a test.

If he’s still alive, my dad will never stop looking for me. A sick, sadistic part of me hopes he isn’t. If he is, then he’ll tell the Order I’m a witch on the run. I don't know how involved he is with them, if he goes so far as to hunt witches with them, but it's a crazy church club. My parents may be killed for concealing me, but what do they have left now? I’ve murdered their only son.

The freezing air seeps through my every pore, chilling my bones. Nausea creeps up my throat, and each breath fogs in front of me as the temperature drops a few degrees.

I take off again, staying in back alleys and quiet streets until I reach the outskirts of town. As I pass an abandoned shop, I glance at the window.

Blood covers my pajama shorts. Pieces of my brother dangle from my tank top, and my dark eyes are no longer black but now their usual deep brown. I breathe deeply, but the stench clinging to my pajamas makes me gag. My lips tremble, and tears flood my eyes. My legs ache from running, but I can’t rest. Not yet.

If I know one thing, it’s that a Fallenmoore witch will always have enemies. The church killed the rest of my biological family, and I am the last. If the Order finds me, I’m already dead.

ONE

Evie... Present day

The walls seem to groan as the rain hammers down outside the asylum. Jay slides his knee between my thighs and spreads them wider. My back presses against the wall, as he holds my wrists over my head.

I smile as he slides his hand over the tattooed roses entwined with skulls up the side of my leg. His breaths are heavy against my lips, and the magic buried deep inside me purrs, begging for release. Rain slashes against the barred windows, and lightning flashes throughout what used to be a patient’s bedroom, illuminating the graffiti and old blood covering the peeling, cracked wallpaper.

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