Amanda Bonilla - Shaedes of Gray - A Shaede Assassin Novel

Their presence harried me. They pressed their invisible bodies against mine, surrounding me in a strange bubble of pressure so tight I had to fight to keep moving. I almost missed their gruesome insect forms. The air around me became dense—I could barely breathe—and the stench of them caused me to choke. All the good looks in the world weren’t going to do anything about that smell.

I wondered if I should wish for something. I didn’t want Tyler to pop into the middle of a dangerous situation, though, and I still wasn’t entirely sure how the whole wish thing worked. I wanted help, but did I need it? And who the hell was responsible for defining what I needed? Fuck. Maybe I could only wish for him specifically, and I refused to risk his life. I’d only just realized the extent of my own mortality; I had no clue as to the extent of Tyler’s. The katana was useless against an invisible foe. And as for my theory that my life might be valuable—well, let’s just say I didn’t have much faith in that either.

The Lyhtan voices continued to taunt. Levi was right, though. They wanted the freedom to show themselves.

“Do you prize your pretty body, Shaede?” the many voices taunted. “Can you charm the humans with your sweet voice, soft skin, and supple breasts? You don’t live in fear of discovery, do you? You will, though! Soon you’ll feel the pain of alienation!”

“Cry me a river,” I said. I’d had it with their sad laments. I mean, give me a fucking break. “What do you want? To live like them? To amble aimlessly, playing foolish games and living meaningless lives? You want to appear weak and vulnerable and mortal?”

A thousand voices laughed in my ears. I fought the urge to cover them with my hands, to block out that evil sound.

“We will lure them with our beauty, and then we will rip their souls from their flesh! We’ll have some fun with them!”

I brushed my fear aside and tried to decipher the nonsense from actual threat. I had to hope one of them would be stupid enough to identify the mastermind behind their little coup. Everyone suspected Azriel, but I had to be sure . Driven by basic instincts and simple emotions, these Lyhtans could be easily controlled by the right individual. They appeared to be brainless creatures with only base desires, though Raif had proclaimed differently.

“Who is your master?” I asked as I fought to keep moving.

I was answered by another round of cackling laughter. “Our master wants you,” they said.

Ambiguous answers aren’t my favorite. Wants me what? Dead? Alive? Tortured? Stripped naked, doused with honey, and set on an anthill? I was so over this unwelcome escort. “Look, ladies . . . fellas . . . whatever. Are you planning on doing something here, or are you just going to talk me to death? I’m pretty fucking tired, and I’m not in the mood for your bullshit this morning. So if you’re going to do something, get on with it. If you’re not, then get the hell out of here!”

I waited, my pulse pounding in my ears, for their next move. I was sure I’d invited an attack, and I stood ready to defend myself, no matter how wasted the effort might be.

Their laughter grew louder, and they pushed with their invisible forms, tossing my body this way and that. I tried to stay straight, but they were too strong and I listed, stumbling as they shoved. The sound of their mirth intensified until I thought I’d go crazy from the laughter. The density of the air changed, and I cried out as many clawed hands scraped against me. Blood oozed from the gaping wounds, and I fell to the ground. I reached over my shoulder, gripped the hilt of the katana, and ripped it free of the scabbard. On my knees, I held it out before me, ready to fight, though unsure how or where to aim the slice of my blade as flashes of light shone before me, too fast for the human eye to track, becoming solid for a split second before disappearing entirely.

Laughter turned to screeching. I felt the power of their screams deep in my chest, my heart threatening to explode at any minute. I swung the katana at the air, slicing and cutting down over and over.

The screams stopped. The laughter was gone. The air became easy to breathe, and I no longer felt the pressure of their presence. I fell face forward on the concrete, and I heard the metal blade ring as it struck the ground. Blood gushed warm and sticky from my many wounds, the pain almost unbearable, and there I lay, a mere block from my apartment.

Goddamn, I needed help. Needed it right fucking now. I tried to form the sentence that would save me, “I wish . . .” But I didn’t get past the first two words. Darkness swept down on me, and it was welcome.

“Darian, don’t move,” Tyler’s voice was soft next to my face. “This is gonna hurt like a bitch, but you can’t move or you’ll pull the stitches.”

Stitches? What would I need stitches for?

Something cold and wet made contact with my skin, and a jolt of pain like liquid fire shot through me. I jerked but did as Tyler asked and tried to keep as still as possible. Dragging a ragged breath between tightly clenched teeth, I didn’t dare open my eyes. I didn’t want to see the damage that was so bad it would require my quick-healing skin be sewn together. A string of curses sat at my tongue, distracting me from the searing pain. For comfort, I visualized the many ways I could kill my Lyhtan attackers in the gray hours of twilight.

Soon the pain ebbed, and my breathing slowed. I allowed my tense body to relax by fractions of inches, slowly sinking into the soft comfort I recognized as my own bed. The delicious scent that clung to Ty drifted toward me, helping me to calm. I wasn’t safe, but I felt better just being near him, my personal wish granter.

“How did you find me?” I croaked.

“I knew you were about to make a wish,” he said as he propped another pillow beneath my head. “I get this tingly feeling that’s a precursor to the actual wish. When you didn’t follow through, I got worried and went to look for you. Luckily, you were close.”

“Why do I need stitches, Ty? What the fuck?”

He brushed my hair away from my forehead. His touch felt cooler than normal. “Raif came by to check you out. He was pretty pissed—mentioned something about bottled shadows and your inability to obey an order. He says you’ll heal, but the Lyhtan venom prevents your skin from closing up like it should. If I hadn’t closed the wounds, you may have bled out.”

“I thought they could only kill me during the gray hours,” I mumbled, ignoring the I told you so Raif had delivered by way of Tyler.

“Are you dead?” Tyler asked.

“No,” I moaned, “but that’s not saying much.”

He bent over and pressed his lips to my forehead. I breathed deeply, taking in his scent as if I’d never smell it again. How many times had he gotten me out of a jam? How many more opportunities would he have to come to my rescue? Which of those times would kill him?

“Tyler.” I worked to lean up on my elbows. It hurt like a sonofabitch. “You need to go. It’s not safe for you here.”

“Darian, I’ve dealt with nastier things than Lyhtans,” he said, laughing. “Don’t worry about it.”

“What are you, Tyler?” I asked. Nearly delirious from the Lyhtan venom, I felt groggy, drugged.

“I’m yours,” he said.

I mumbled a few incoherent words and lost consciousness again.

Angry voices roused me from a dark abyss. Two of my favorite voices, actually. Xander arguing with Tyler. I couldn’t make out the words, but it was a heated discussion nonetheless.

I wanted to speak up, but my mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton balls. I tried to run my tongue over my lips, but it just stuck to the roof of my mouth like I’d glued it there. I wrestled with producing enough saliva to dislodge my tongue for a couple of minutes while Tyler and Xander continued to argue. I couldn’t even wish they’d stop.