“Who…” I gasped out, still struggling, “…are you?”
“I am your shadow self.”
“Ambrose?”
“If you like.”
“How are you talking to me?”
“You stand on the precipice between life and death, and that affords me a certain leeway.”
“What?” I jolted upright. “I’m dying?” I pressed a palm to my chest. “Maybe lead with that next time?”
“Not yet, no.”
“Not yet is good.” I kept sucking in air, but I wasn’t getting enough. “Then why am I stuck here?”
The space was gray and warm, bleak, its fabric shifting and twisting. Gaunt faces dotted the mist beyond where I sat, and Ambrose stood in profile, his hands shoved into the pockets of his slacks, a caricature of Linus. I drank in the sight of him, my curiosity finally sated, and I couldn’t fault him for his artistic license.
His skin was as pale as the first full moon in winter, his hair a ravaging flame around his head. His lips were so blue they were almost violet, his eyes full of shadows so deep no light had hope of penetrating them. Mist swirled around his ankles, black tendrils that resembled a wraith’s tattered cloak, another of his Linus-like affectations.
There was a reason Ambrose had hooked me from the start. No good could come of us meeting like this. Creatures like him homed in on the insecurities and desires of their potential hosts, and I had been ripe for the plucking. They used what they gleaned to seduce prey into leaning on their strength, their knowledge, their power, until the prey—now a host—toppled without their support.
Most of the time, their prey even thanked them for it.
I know I had, in the beginning.
“I wished to tell you that I am not what I once was and not yet what I will become.”
A bitter laugh twisted its way out of my throat. “Sure thing.”
“It has been an age since I learned a thing I did not already know.”
“Was it the Star Trek or the Star Wars trivia that won you over?”
“You have taught me compassion. I had none in life, and I have had none in death. You are a lens through which I see the world more clearly. Your perception fascinates me. Therefore, I propose an alliance.”
“Why now?” I coughed, the air too thick and cottony. “What brought this on?”
“You trusted me,” he said simply. “You placed your life in my hands and believed I would cradle it softly.”
“Yeah, well, you’ve been on good behavior recently.”
“I enjoy the chocolates,” he said solemnly. “I have never tasted the likes of which you treat me.”
A rattling cough moved through my chest, and I covered my hand only to pull away bloody fingers.
“You must go before it is too late.”
“Will we be able to do this again? Talk, I mean?”
“Only if you find yourself on death’s door may I hold it open for you.”
“I’ll take that as a no.” I wiped my hand on my pants. “Thanks, Ambrose.”
“We have centuries ahead of us, Amelie. Our kind may step in and out of time as we choose.”
A hard thump against my ribs stole what breath I had from me. “How long will we live?”
“We will live until we die.”
“As long as Midas?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
“You will surpass him into eternity.”
Frost swept through me, chilling me to the bone. “I don’t want that.”
“We are bound to him.”
“How are we bound to him, exactly?”
“We are what we are, and we take what we need.”
“Are you saying our mate bond is…parasitic?”
No wonder it didn’t work right. Midas and I weren’t soul mates. We were conduits. For Ambrose.
“We are symbiotic.”
“What does he get out of it, then?”
“The bond flows both ways.”
“I don’t follow.”
“He may take from us and live, or we may take from him and die.”
“He can live with us forever,” I said slowly, wrapping my head around it. “Or we can die with him?”
“Yes.”
“Can I get back to you on that?”
“Take all the time you need.”
Amused by his own wit, he laughed, velvet-soft and inviting, the way I sometimes heard in nightmares.
“All right.” I rubbed the tender skin over my breastbone. “In that case, I’ll—”
Light exploded around me, piercing my eyes and shredding the misty gray landscape like tissue paper.
Lifting a hand in silent farewell, Ambrose watched over me until he too was ripped to tattered nothings.
“Hadley.”
Compressions strained my ribs until they creaked.
“Hadley.”
Warm lips covered mine, and oxygen swept into my starving lungs.
“Hadley.”
The voice murmuring my name like a prayer cracked as Midas attempted to save my life.
“Hadley.”
“We’ve got a pulse,” Lisbeth announced, her delicate fingers on my wrist. “Give her room, guys.”
No surprise, the guys did not give her room. I woke with both of them leaning over me. Plus Ambrose.
“What happened?” Midas held fists of my curls like that might have held me to life. “You were…”
“Dead,” Lisbeth finished for him. “Your heart stopped for a full minute.”
“The ward,” I mumbled. “Kicked my butt.”
“Help me sit her upright.” Lisbeth tugged once before Midas shrugged her off and lifted me into his arms. “Um, that’s not what I had in mind.” The edge of his mouth twitched at her in the promise of a snarl. “But I like your idea better.”
Ford positioned himself between Lisbeth and Midas, but he let the threat pass. He understood the murky area where courtesy and instinct collided in gwyllgi and that it wasn’t always a line consciously crossed.
Basically, he saved us a lot of time by opting not to posture, and I was grateful for it.
“Help me stand.” I wiggled in Midas’s grasp. “We can’t fight if you’re carrying me everywhere.”
Reflex curled me tighter against him before he forced himself to relax his grip and ease me down.
Certain I was about to have egg on my face from collapsing at Midas’s feet, Ambrose stroked my hair, and lightning struck in its wake, jolting me awake and alert, flooding my system with adrenaline…and every last drop of the power he had borrowed from me.
“Thank you.” I patted Midas’s chest. “And they say men can’t be trained to follow simple instructions.”
A
