Chapter 13 Delilah
Chapter thirteen
Delilah
It was dark when I awoke, the room quiet save for the gentle hum of the heating that clicked on periodically.
Rolling over, I sighed as I curled deeper into the luxurious mattress, desperate to hang on to what had been the best sleep of my life for just a bit longer.
Beside me, coddled in a nest of pillows, Pandora slept on, her snuffling snore making me smile.
She always slept hard after a big meal, and Vine had provided the equivalent of a hedgehog feast for my spiky little friend.
I had just closed my eyes, floating languidly in that fuzzy space between asleep and awake, when a sharp tap tap came from the bedroom window.
I froze, my heart thudding heavy against my ribs as I waited, wanting to know if I had dreamed the sound or if it was really there—and if I was really in danger.
When the same tap tap came again, there could be no doubt. Someone was at my window.
And I was completely defenseless.
When Archer had taken my satchel and backpack, he’d also taken every single one of my hex bags, my smudge sticks, my crystals, and the last of my phosphorous bombs.
The only things in my possession were my dress and my cloak, the latter of which currently hung over the foot of the bed, not that it mattered.
Cloak or no, I was utterly useless without my things.
Cursing Archer for leaving me to die, I did the only thing left that I could think of; I closed my eyes, reaching in toward the seemingly endless void that lived in my soul and searched for the magic Heidi had spent her life attempting—and failing—to teach me to use.
As I looked, my senses turning inward in a familiar exercise that was supposed to calm and center me, I was more than a little shocked to find the hole had changed.
It wasn’t gone, really, but it was smaller.
Less of a canyon gaping inside me and more of a ravine, still deep, but not nearly as wide.
Daring to bring my mind a little closer to the edge, I eased forward, trying to get a feel for this new, smaller void so that I could navigate it before whatever was at the window decided to help themselves to my bedroom.
As I worked, my inner self creeping closer and closer, I realized that, in actuality, the hole was still the same daunting size as before.
But it had been almost completely filled.
Filled with shadows.
And across that altered expanse, I could almost feel…something.
For a moment, my magic appeared closer than ever, and I had no doubt that it was the shadows that had made it happen.
The realization turned my blood to ice, my skin prickling and my fingers going numb. Gasping, I sat straight up in bed, my concentration shattering and my sense of the hole vanishing into the night.
My heart raced and the collar at my throat practically buzzed with what felt like anticipation.
What did that mean? How did those shadows manage to get inside me?
I shuddered, but couldn’t tell if it was due to revulsion or excitement.
The collar fluttered like a butterfly, the whisper-soft touches dancing around my neck joyously, and a shocking thought began to form in the back of my mind.
Had Archer’s collar somehow infiltrated inside me? Did that mean there was demon magic in me at that very moment?
The thought terrified me in ways I couldn't even begin to process. What did this mean for who I was? For my magic? Was I still fully human, or had Archer's shadows changed something fundamental about my very nature? And the most terrifying question of all—did I even want them gone?
The implications of that were almost too much to contemplate.
Because if Archer's shadows were inside me, filling the void where my magic should be, then what did that make me?
Was I still myself, or was I becoming something else entirely?
Something that belonged to him? The collar around my throat suddenly felt less like a restraint and more like a claim—a mark of ownership that went deeper than I'd ever imagined possible.
I would have probably sat on that bed, my thoughts spiraling into a very much deserved breakdown if not for another round of incessant tapping.
Finally turning to the window, I noticed a very large, very black raven perched on the sill, staring at me with fathomless eyes.
Crawling out from under the covers, I slid my feet into the boots I’d left by the bedside and made my way over there, debating trying once again to find my magic in the face of this new shadow situation inside me.
“Hello?” I said, not wanting to frighten it away, my curiosity getting the better of me.
“You’re very big to be living in this crowded city.
” When the raven continued to stare, I stepped closer again, resting my hand on the glass that separated us.
When the bird still didn’t fly away, I asked, “Do you need some help, my friend?”
The bird tilted its head one way, and then the other, the intense black eyes never leaving mine, and that was when I knew.
“Mal?”
The raven let out a deep, resonating croak in response.
Unlatching the window, I lifted the sash, then stepped back as the large bird flapped its way inside, landing on the rug in the center of the room.
In no time at all, the shift started, the raven’s body stretching and growing as the bird disappeared and the man took its place.
Glossy black feathers receded, becoming the long strands of hair that hung across Mal’s face.
The black scales and talons that made up the bird’s feet thinned and faded until only the soft, pale skin of his legs remained.
His body, tall and lean, morphed and changed into the man I’d come to recognize.
In the blink of an eye, the raven was gone and Mal stood before me.
A very naked Mal.
“Oh!” Cheeks heating, I lifted my chin, very pointedly keeping my gaze on Mal’s eyes and absolutely nothing else. “Um, hey, Mal. What can I do for you?”
He stared, not moving, not even blinking, and it felt like he was looking into my very soul.
After the longest of moments, he turned, giving me his back.
I gasped at the sight, my hand coming to my mouth to cover the shock.
Decorating the planes of Mal’s back were tattoos, a pair of intricately detailed raven’s wings, stretching from his shoulder blades to nearly his waist. They were breathtaking, every line and curve woven together perfectly to create a beautiful tapestry that left me gaping in awe.
As I stared, Mal opened one of those gate things, this one smaller than a loaf of bread, and reached inside, pulling out a pair of dark gray sweat pants and sliding them on. When he was finished, the gate closed and he turned to face me again.
Feeling much more comfortable now that all of Mal’s bits were safely covered, I allowed myself to look at him again, this time noticing that he actually hadn’t been completely naked before.
Around his neck hung the compass, and I pursed my lips, wondering how it had managed to shift with him; I’d never heard of a shifter being able to shift inanimate objects with them.
But then again, maybe a demon wasn’t really a shifter at all.
“Are you alright?” Mal asked plainly, scrutinizing me from top to bottom. “Are you hurt? Hungry? What do you need?”
I could feel my eyebrows shooting sky high, the shock of his questions rendering me speechless.
“Archer didn’t hurt you, did he?”
“What?” I shook my head. “No, of course not.” Archer may have been a lot of things, but so far, he hadn’t even laid a hand on me.
“What about that?” Mal lifted his chin in the direction of the collar. “I saw it. I saw it choking you.” Shaking his head, Mal huffed out a frustrated breath. “He shouldn’t have done that. Punishment is only for the guilty. He shouldn’t have done that to you.”
“Mal?” I questioned softly, sensing his agitation and not wanting to make it worse. “How do you know?” When he frowned in confusion, I elaborated. “How do you know I’m not guilty?”
Archer had seemed so certain, willing to bet everything on the fact that I was a member of the Order and had stolen from Father Phips. But Mal appeared just as certain that I was not.
Stepping closer, Mal looked down at me, his body so near I could smell the night wind on his skin. Not wanting to appear weak, I stayed where I was, needing to show him that I wasn’t afraid.
And I wasn’t. Not really.
But I was really, really curious.
Raising one hand, Mal brought it up beside my head, his fingers ghosting over my cheek reverently, his touch barely perceptible.
It was intimate, but not sexually so. It was as though Mal was simply learning me, viewing me as one would a sculpture in a gallery. With respect and a touch of admiration.
The experience was utterly humbling.
“I know,” he whispered, his fingers now hovering over the shadow collar. “Because you smell like a promise kept. You feel like a wish granted and a debt paid. You,” he finished, stepping back and wrapping one hand around the compass that hung down his chest. “Are who we’ve been waiting for.”
His words cut me to the very core, but before I could respond, an explosion rocked through the house, throwing everything into chaos once again.