Chapter 23 Shade
Shade
My hit list grew.
I drifted from alcove to alcove, from shadow to pillar, never letting Ginger out of my sight.
She was wild and free, dancing like her life depended on it.
She was mesmerizing, brighter than a star in the night sky—and I wasn’t the only one that thought so.
From my vantage point in the far corner of the ballroom, I counted the greedy eyes that touched her skin, the friendly hands that made contact with her body. I even counted anyone who stepped too close.
As if they had any right to lay their hands on a goddess…
She was mine. And I didn’t like to share.
Ginger twirled without abandon, bumping into folk and laughing as she clutched their shoulders and issued apologies.
My teeth threatened to grind themselves down to dust.
I wanted them dead, each and every one of them. For merely looking at her, for witnessing her lithe form gyrating so gracefully beneath the barely-there dress, they deserved to die.
My fingers curled into fists. Perhaps I would simply gouge their eyeballs out of their skulls so they could never look upon my wife again.
The violence stemmed deep, from the very marrow of my bones, from the very root of my soul. There was something primal about the urge to keep Ginger to myself. Something undeniable.
Every bit of me begged to claim, to own, to… protect? I shook my head. Of course I would protect her. From everything but myself.
It took every ounce of willpower I possessed to not growl aloud when the white-haired wolf returned to the ballroom, headed straight for my mate.
I had left him alive earlier, for one reason only: because I knew his death would have upset Ginger. She was woven into the very core of Moonvale, and any loss would throw a dagger into her heart.
I couldn’t bear to hurt her, even indirectly.
I hoped he would be smart enough to stay away.
Seems I overestimated his intelligence. His death would have rattled the town, but it might have been worth it…
I cracked my knuckles, imagining all the ways I could shred the wolf to pieces.
In due time, Ginger would come around. She would realize that these fools were beneath her, and she was meant to be with me.
Only me.
But I was not a patient man, and the next folk to even look at her wrong would receive a cracked spine in return.
The night crawled by with no end in sight.
It was draining, really—the endless wandering.
The spiraling thoughts.
The infuriating lack of memories.
The pain came and went, triggered by the strangest of things.
A whiff of baking bread would send me to my knees. The sight of a cat turning a corner would snatch the breath from my lungs.
Sometimes, strange glimpses would accompany the blackouts, but they never made sense.
I saw flashes of an elegant castle, full of folk, riches beyond imagination. A different world. Strange clothing, strange magic. And darkness—vast, consuming darkness. A darkness that swallowed me whole and refused to spit me out again.
None of it fit together, and it only served to knot my jumbled mind even further.
This plan to secure my wife had failed.
An honorary title? Fucking ridiculous, and a massive waste of my time.
Though, I supposed it wasn’t an entire waste, considering it ended with my wife in my arms, at least for a little while.
She had accepted my courting gifts. Was that not enough? I would need to address that with her.
I wished again, for the millionth time, for my memories to return to me.
If she refused to be mine again, how would I convince her?
The hours I spent watching folk didn’t help. They gravitated toward each other. Spent time together. Shared kisses and touches when they thought nobody else was watching.
It was simple. Easy.
One of the parties didn’t run from the pairing, the way my stubborn Ginger did.
Was she the one that was broken?
I shook my head. That was impossible. My wife was perfect in every way.
The problem must have been me, then. I was doing something wrong.
And I would fix it this instant.
I drifted toward her cottage in the forest, as I often did.
Watching her sleep was my favorite pastime.
She was so serene, so peaceful in her slumber. Even with the small beast hogging a vast portion of her bed.
I slipped inside, pushing her window open without a whisper of sound.
Her beast, Brambleby, she called him, didn’t stir. He merely glanced at me from where he lounged.
He had snapped at me a few times in my previous forays. I couldn’t approach Ginger, couldn’t drift too close without the loyal dragon shifting to defend his mother.
But if I kept my space, he let me be.
We had an understanding.
I walked, quietly, to the corner of her bedroom and settled myself into the chair. It was covered with clothing today, hastily discarded. I set the clothing on the floor. I would put them back before I left to erase my evidence.
She didn’t like finding evidence of me, I had learned.
It scared her.
It should have flattered her, but my wife was skittish.
We would work on that.
I pulled out a journal, one I had stolen from her personal collection. It was worn and weathered, the pages turned again and again. The corners were even creased from where she had marked her place.
I flipped to a random passage and began reading.
To my utter delight, it was a recent journal. She had written about me.
It’s getting worse. I think I’m actually losing my mind.
Not in the “I forgot where I placed my quill and ink” kind of way, more like… I think I’m hallucinating. Either that, or I’m incredibly paranoid.
I have the strangest sensation that I’m being followed, or maybe watched. Or both.
It’s maddening.
I don’t think it’s one of Kizzi’s sprites, though they do flutter about from time to time.
I suspect it may be a ghost.
It almost feels like I’m being haunted by my own shadow.
I worry, if I really am losing my mind, what will happen to Bram? Will they take me away, lock me up?
I wonder if Velline can fix me, if there’s something broken in my mind, but I haven’t gathered the courage to ask her.
Maybe tomorrow, I—
Atwinge on the periphery of my senses pulled me from my reading. I cocked my head to focus.
Someone was approaching the cottage. Two someones.
It was the dead of night, who would visit her cottage at this hour?
Besides myself, of course.
A knock sounded on the front door. “Ginny!” a voice shouted. “Are you up?”
Brambleby jumped to his feet as Ginger groggily sat up, scrubbing her fists over her eyes.
I momentarily panicked. I didn’t have time to run.
I stayed as still as possible, praying the darkness of the room was enough to shroud me from her view. If she didn’t light a lamp, I would be okay. Her eyesight was dull, anyway.
I held my breath. My heart raced in my chest.
“Ginny!” the voice shouted again. I recognized it as Kizzi, the strange green witch and Ginger’s friend. There was something about that witch that set me on edge. I both wanted to drift toward her and avoid her at the same time—a magnetism that both summoned and repelled.
Naturally, I avoided her as much as possible.
Ginger shoved the covers down and pulled herself out of bed. “One second,” she groaned. She wobbled when she stood, taking a moment to slap her hand over her mouth. She stumbled to the door with the beast at her heels.
To my luck, she left her lantern unlit on the bedside table.
I exhaled heavily.
I stayed where I was as she opened the door and spoke with the witch and the orc. I tilted my head and focused to catch their conversation.
“Is Raine here?” the witch asked nervously. “Hex forgot to pull the door shut and the little menace slipped out. I was hoping she came over for a slumber party or something.”
“She usually comes home, but it’s dark out, and we’re worried. There’s a storm brewing,” the orc added.
Ginger yawned before answering. “No, she’s not here. Do you know where she is, Bram?” she asked the beast.
Was she able to communicate with the dragon? How impressive. That was a rare skill, indeed.
“I’m sure she’s just playing,” the witch said, a slight quiver to her voice. “No need to fret.”
“Do you want any help looking?” Ginger asked. I tensed. She wanted to go out wandering the woods at night? That was a dreadful idea. Dangerous creatures roamed the woods at night.
Creatures more dangerous than even me.
“No, go back to bed. I’m sure she’ll turn up. Thanks,” the orc said.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. We’ll stop by again in the morning if she’s not back by dawn. She can take care of herself—she’s tough.”
“Okay. Come get me if you need help, I promise I don’t mind in the slightest.”
There was a strange pause in the conversation. The wooden boards of the porch creaked.
“Ginger?” the witch asked tightly.
“Hmm?”
“Do you have someone over?”
I froze. Did she know I was here? Impossible.
“No, why?” she asked. “Just me and Brambleby.”
“I just—I just thought… never mind.”
“Why do you ask? Do you want to come in and check?” Ginger asked, immediately on edge. “I told you; I think I have a ghost.”
Her ghost. I supposed I was haunting her, in a way. I smiled at that. She was certainly haunting me, every hour of every day.
“Ghost? Is that what you were talking about last week at the pub?” the orc questioned.
“I’m sure it’s nothing, probably just my imagination,” Ginger explained, a bit too sharply to be casual.
She was feigning nonchalance, but deep down, it was clear she was on edge. And for whatever reason, she didn’t want her friends to know her true feelings.
“We’ll come back and perform a cleansing ritual some time,” the witch said. “Get rid of some of this… weird energy.”
Ginger exhaled in a short puff. “That would be great. Thank you, Kizzi. No rush. Don’t push your other projects aside, I can wait.”
As it sounded like they were finishing up their conversation, I quietly rose to my feet, tucking the journal away, returning the pile of clothes to the chair, and drifting to the window. I was careful to keep out of the line of sight of the front door.
I slipped outside before Ginny could return to her bedroom. Though I ached to keep watching my wife, I didn’t want to push my luck.
I liked her mild paranoia, but I didn’t want her terror.
As I retreated into the woods, I replayed the conversion in my head.
A dragon was on the loose. The ice dragon.
The beast should be easy enough to find. At least that gave me something new to do with my free time.