Chapter 9 Shadow Friends
SHADOW FRIENDS
ZEKE
If someone asked me if I cared about the inner workings of humans, my answer would be a resounding no. I wasn’t anti-human or anything. They weren’t that different from me. But I never understood why others of my kind obsessed over them.
Why then, if I wasn’t interested, was I standing at the foot of the pretty human’s bed watching her sleep like a creepy stalker?
Yesterday, Ash stopped me from chasing her after I heard her crying upstairs. He said to let her mourn in peace. Who mourned in peace?
I hadn’t lost anyone important, but I knew if something happened to Cyn or the guys, I’d want my brothers around for comfort.
When I asked why Ash assumed she’d want to be alone instead of comforted, Cyn posed another, pointed question: “Why do you care if a human needs comfort? You don’t know her.” His words stopped me from pursuing Rae, and I questioned again why I was so drawn to her.
I didn’t like strangers. I preferred being with my brothers because they understood me.
Everyone else misunderstood me and scolded me like a child, even at twenty-one. They treated me like a bargaining tool instead of a real person, wanting whatever they could take. They made me think I was nothing more than broken and unworthy, even if they needed me.
I waited until everyone fell asleep. It took a long time because Ash and Ezra spent most of the night hashing out what we needed to do to get home.
Once they finally dropped it and went to sleep, I escaped upstairs to check on Rae. She’d spent all day alone up there, and listening to her cry made my chest ache.
When I checked on her, I found her fast asleep, curled in her bedding. I suspected she hadn’t slept well after hearing about her grandmother’s death, so I left her alone and went downstairs to sleep, only to seek her out again hours later.
My gaze traced her tanned leg as she hitched it over the comforter, rolling onto her side.
I couldn’t see higher than mid-thigh, but either she wore short shorts or she wasn’t wearing anything below the waist. The sight stirred something in my stomach, though the straps of her tank top told me she wasn’t naked.
Soft streetlight leaked through her blinds, enough to highlight tattoos on her arm and thigh, but not enough to make out the designs.
The sun would rise soon. The others would wake and question me if they found me here, but something about Rae called to me. I couldn’t tear myself away, and I knew I was meant to be here—but why?
I crept closer, compelled to see her face before I left her alone.
Her hair partly obscured her face, the hairband loose, strands slipping from her bun—another sign of a fitful sleep.
Sighing, I sat on the edge of the bed and brushed her hair back from her face, my fingertips grazing her cheek.
She swatted my hand. “Stop it, Max.”
Max? Who’s Max?
Before I could move away, she rolled toward me and slung an arm over my shoulder, dragging me down beside her. Burying her face in the crook of my neck, she hugged me tight.
I froze at the unexpected affection, unsure of how to react. I’d never cuddled with a woman before.
Inhaling deeply through her nose, she slid her fingers into my hair.
I melted with a sigh, eyes rolling back. Her touch hit like a drug straight into my nervous system.
She stiffened.
Her fingers moved over the back of my head, then slid around to map my face like a blind woman. Her features tightened. She squinted one eye open to look at me.
“You’re not Max.”
I swallowed. “No?”
Nothing about her house suggested a man lived here, but perhaps Max didn’t live with her and she expected him over. Maybe Max wasn’t male, or he liked her feminine touches.
Ezra would lose it if another human found out about us.
She blinked a few times, lowering her hand once fully awake. “I must be dreaming.”
We were close enough that I saw flecks of indigo in her storm-cloud eyes.
“Nope. You’re awake. Did you dream of me last night?”
I doubted it, but I wanted to ease her discomfort by lightening the mood. Given my attraction to her, I believed I’d sense if I appeared in her dreams.
Ignoring my teasing question, she said, “Wait. I’m awake?”
Strange question to ask.
“Yes. Why would you think you’re asleep? We’re talking.”
“Because I’m not freaking out that you’re in bed with me. I must be hallucinating.” She paused, then shifted her gaze to me. “By the way, what are you doing in my bed?”
Her sudden shift in focus reminded me of my own jumps from one topic to the next, which usually confused people.
“You pulled me down here.”
“No. Absolutely not.”
I looked down at our entangled feet on top of the comforter. I raised an eyebrow. “Sure about that?”
She jerked away from me, sliding across the bed.
I couldn’t understand why the movement made my stomach hurt, but a wave of nausea followed it. When she stayed in bed, I didn’t move, waiting her out. What would she do?
“What are you doing in my bedroom?”
“I wanted to check on you.”
“If I’m asleep, I’m obviously fine.”
“I heard differently.”
She looked away, staring across the room.
“Wanna tell me about her?”
“Huh?” Her eyes met mine. She didn’t pretend not to know who I meant. “Why would I do that?”
“She’s clearly important to you.”
I didn’t have a strong attachment to my own family, but I knew what it felt like to have someone so important I’d give my life to keep them safe. I might have centuries ahead of me, but sacrificing every one of those solitary days without them would be worth fading into the void.
Rolling onto her back, she looked at the ceiling and released a weary breath. “There isn’t much to tell. Grandma wasn’t like other grandmas, but in some ways, she was like any grandma a little girl could hope for.”
I wanted to take a photo of the way the rising sun created sharp shadows around her mouth when she smiled at an unspoken memory.
“Grandma and Papa took me to the beach a lot growing up.” She turned her head on the pillow to look at me. “Did you know she used to pick me up from school whenever I was sick or just wanted to come home? Whenever kids made me feel bad, she’d take me to lunch or to the mall.”
“No, I wouldn’t know that.”
She smiled again—but it lacked warmth. “Of course not. Rhetorical question.”
I took a risk, sliding my hand across the bed to play with a few strands of her hair. When she either didn’t notice, or chose not to stop me, I twirled it around my finger.
“I loved her. All of her.” Her gaze drifted to the ceiling again, and her voice took on a faraway quality. “Which is more than most people in my family could say. Except Mom. She understood her the same way I do.”
“What way is that?”
She glanced over at me. “Can others see you like this?”
“Like what?”
“In this form, disguised as a human.”
My brows drew together, thrown by the subject change. “I’m not disguised.”
“But Cyn’s horns—”
“I’m still a Shyrlivi like this.” At her confused expression, I chuckled.
“Think of our cooler accessories as armor. We shift into our armor when we want to. It isn’t another being we hide inside a human-type body.
We are the same person, but we change our form.
Some choose to stay in that form all the time while in Elyrdin; others put away their armor until they need it—or want parts of it. ”
“So it is a disguise, not showing the other parts.”
“No.” I flicked the tail of the hair wrapped around my finger, searching for the right words.
“I mean, I guess it could be seen as a disguise, but we’re not hiding who we are.
Okay, well… yeah, it’s convenient on Earth, but we look like this in Elyrdin, too.
We’re born looking human—we’re just not human.
I guess you could call us shapeshifters, but we didn’t come up with this form to hide. ”
“Okay, the shapeshifter thing makes sense.”
I buried my face in her pillow and mumbled, “Good. I had no idea how I could explain it any differently.” I turned my head at her lighthearted giggle.
Her scent, like roses and fruit, filled my lungs, and my heart skipped with a sudden awareness that made me uneasy.
But she didn’t notice my frozen state as she continued.
“So humans can see you in this form?”
I cleared my throat. “Y-yeah.”
“What about the other form? The badass armor form?”
“I think armor wasn’t the best way to describe it. But no, humans can’t see our other form unless we want them to. We can shield ourselves.”
“Is it that way for all the other demons?”
“Hiding?”
“Yeah.”
“We’re the only ones allowed on Earth. Ezra’s dad doesn’t let anyone outside the council—or me and my brothers—come to Earth.”
She pushed up into a sitting position, crossing her legs beneath her. “I’m not even gonna ask who Ezra’s father is.” She shook her head. “Brothers? The others are your brothers? Y’all don’t look alike. Well, Cyn and Ezra kinda do.”
I laughed. “Nah. Ezra and Cyn are cousins. Ezra’s dad and Cyn’s mom are siblings. But the rest of us aren’t related. We call ourselves brothers because we grew up together. They’re more family to me than my parents.”
“Well,” she said, tugging the hairband from her tangled hair. She slipped it onto her wrist, shaking her hair loose. The dark ombré waves cascaded down her back. “It seems either Ezra’s father allows more through than you realize, or there’s another way out.”
I blinked a few times, breaking my staring contest with hair that couldn’t stare back. “What?”
Her voice lowered, sadness creeping in. “Grandma saw your kind—or at least some variation like you—often.”
“She did?” I sat up. “Like what Cyn looked like last night?”
“No. Well, I don’t know if she did. I haven’t.”
“What do you mean you haven’t?”
She scrubbed her eyes. “Because I haven’t seen your kind before, but I’ve seen other creatures.”
“When?”
“I can only remember as far back as when I was four. But I’ll never forget the first time I saw it.” She drew her knees up beneath the covers, wrapping her arms around her shins.