Shadow Bound

The thing that crossed the threshold was Wrong. He might call himself the Death Collector, might style himself as a giver of immortal youth, but Talia’s mind and soul rang with the more apt term, demon.

Had it not been for her grip on the side of the ship, Talia would have fallen to the deck in revulsion.

The demon was a snaking horror of black absence fitted in a sinuous twist around the body of a man. His human host. Deep in shadow, Talia could see the slick offal of the demon penetrating the host to his core. Whoever the man might’ve been was gone, his identity destroyed. Now his body, used and broken, shared his life with a terrible intelligence in writhing misery. Expression vacant, jaw slack, the man moved as if in a long nightmare, looking only for an end. Whatever end that might be was clearly beyond his caring.

The thought that Adam faced that horror stripped Talia of all hope that he might still be alive. The wraith soul-suckers were bothersome insects compared to the genocidal seethe of the demon. The only being powerful enough to destroy that thing, that condensation of defiling chaos, was Shadowman. Shadowman could be demon enough himself if need be. He and he alone could cut the demon out of the world.

A sudden pressure welled up inside her.

Scream. Now. Right now. Pour every drop of fae blood into one piercing sound. More instinct than impulse, the need was sharp and urgent.

Talia stifled a groan of abject frustration. Her throat ached to call her father, yet screaming was impossible with the constant suffocation that choked her. A wasted effort. Tears streamed down her face at her impotence.

She swallowed the gorge of sound with a shudder. Today was for Adam, but she would be back. She would open her mouth and shred the sky. The demon would know Death.

The wraiths on deck stopped their rough play and stood in a thrall of attention, regarding the demon snake and his human host.

The host cleared the threshold and held the door to allow three snarling dogs to join him. Like great, rabid wolves, the dogs’ ears were pinned back, heads lowered. Their golden eyes peered in her direction.

No, not in her direction. They looked directly at her.

Talia stopped breathing and pressed her body into the metal wall at the edge of the ship as her heart gulped for oxygen.

The host’s face contracted into a half smile while the rest of his expression remained sallow and dumb, as if the demon had pulled a marionette string at the edge of the man’s sagging mouth.

“Banshee,” the host said. His voice grated as the demon puppeted him. “These are my hellhounds. They were bred in shadows far darker than yours. Shall I loose them to fetch you or will you come out and talk to me yourself?”

The dogs slavered in anticipation, wicked yellow teeth bared.

Talia’s heart clamored with alarm. Shadow had always been her refuge.

“Banshee. Though I have forever, I find I am impatient at present.” The host’s gaze slid to her. “I punish sneaking and subterfuge. Yours is the second attempt on my life tonight, and I guarantee that the other is regretting his actions now. I grow weary of being distracted from my work. Come out. Now.”

The second attempt on his life? Had to be Adam.

And if Adam “regretted” anything, he had to be alive to do so.

Alive. Talia clung to that as she released the shadow at her shoulders.

“Ah. There you are.” The black coil of demon turned his host’s head. “Welcome, Banshee. You needn’t have boarded my ship like a diseased rat. The invitation has always been open for you.”

Talia remembered how months ago the wraiths had come to collect her for a “date” with their master. She’d discovered her scream too late to save Melanie.

Whatever the demon wanted with her—No, thank you.

“I’d—” Talia’s hoarse voice broke. She tried again. “I’d rather die than become one of those things.” She flicked a glance at the gathered wraiths. One sneered back at her and worked his lower jaw in a threat, as if he could accommodate her declaration.

“No. No. That hungry life is not for you,” the host said. In his human eyes, a glimmer of surprise, contradicting the assurance of his demon-puppeted speech.

Perhaps the man was still in there after all.

“If you were to become a wraith,” he continued, “you could not bear me a child.”

Talia froze, midbreath. Her gaze shifted from the host to the demon and back again.

Bear him a what?

“Don’t look so shocked,” the host said. “If Death can get a child on a mortal woman, then surely I can get one on a Twilight half-breed. Our union will greatly accelerate the plans I have already put in motion with the wraiths, ensuring my success. The trifold combination of mortal, Twilight, and demon blood in one being will destroy the boundary between the mortal world and Twilight forever. No Death. And without Death, the heavens will fall as well, and I will reign over the ensuing chaos.”

Talia’s already tight stomach turned and she retched on the deck.

The host inclined his head. “Granted, our intercourse will not be pleas urable for you, nor will the pregnancy. But I think the delivery will be worst.”

Talia swallowed to clear her mouth. “No. Never.”

She’d jump over the side first. Drown. There was no way she’d allow the demon to touch her. Not that way. Not any way.

The host’s lips pulled into a smile while his eyes wandered, at odds.

“We’ll see,” the host said. “How about we discuss the matter with your sweetheart? He claimed you were pregnant already, but that isn’t so, is it?”

Sweetheart. Yes, Adam was that, but also so much more. He was her Reason. He was her model of courage, of strength, of endurance. It would be pure joy to give him a child.

Talia’s eyes prickled with unshed tears. That future was all but lost.

“Jacob’s been playing with him for a while now.” The host worked up another false smile. “I should check on his progress. If I know Jacob, the upstart Adam Thorne should be all but broken.”

Talia raised her chin. The demon might know Jacob, but he obviously didn’t know Adam. Every cell of her body ached for what Adam must be suffering, but she had complete faith that the light of his soul was as bright as ever.

“You disagree?” The demon tried to inject mirth into the host’s tone, but he still sounded lifeless and sour.

Talia remained silent. She didn’t want to goad him to hurt Adam any more than he already had.

“Why don’t we go see, shall we? Let’s see how your Adam fares.” The host’s head jerked toward the group of wraiths. “Martin, bring our lady banshee along. I’m finally about to be entertained.”

“Blink once for yes, and twice for yes-right-now.” Jacob’s laugh puffed fetid air on Adam’s face.

Adam closed his eyes, shutting out the small, windowless utility room and his brother’s contorted expression. Adam tightly sealed his eyes so there could be no confusion: Never. Ever. Would he become a wraith.

He would have answered a definitive and resounding NO, but his mouth was taped shut. He’d have flipped Jacob the bird, but his hands were taped behind his back and had long since gone numb.

“How much do you want to bet you will?” Jacob sounded happy. Delighted even. The tables had been turned, and he was enjoying every minute of it.

Adam kept his eyes closed and assessed his situation. There was no getting out of here alive. Not only was he bound to a chair like Custo had been, but he was pinned to the chair by a knife in his side. The blade pierced the flesh at his side and was rammed into the wooded backrest. Hurt like bloody hell.

But maybe…just maybe…if he pulled hard and fast against the blade, he’d hit something vital and bleed out quickly. Maybe he could bring on Shadowman yet.

Something clicked—the latch of the door—and a rush of rotten air circulated through his holding cell.

A wave of dank hopelessness swamped Adam. He could name the source of the feeling: the demon and his