Amanda Bonilla - When Shadows Call

My God, he could entice a nun to sin with nothing more than his voice. I squared my shoulders and took a deep breath. I could be as bold as he wanted me to be. “I crave the shadows.”

Azriel’s answering smile was blinding in its brilliance. My knees went weak at the sight of him. “What shall we do in the shadows?”

I answered him with a wicked smile. “We shall do whatever we please.”

He kissed me once. “That’s my girl.”

* * *

As the sun sank over the western horizon, I could almost hear the contented sigh of my soul. Crimson red blazed a path across the sky, reflecting off the waters of Puget Sound and bathing Azriel’s skin in the warm glow of waning light. The waterfront wasn’t the safest place for two wealthy-looking tourists to be—especially after sunset—but Azriel said we had nothing to fear.

Twilight came to swallow the last of the waning day, but my body refused to leave its solid form. I looked to Azriel and he threaded his fingers through my hair. “Not yet. After the gray hour, Darian. You must wait for darkness to descend, and not a moment sooner.”

My body tensed with anticipation and pulsed with heat. I needed the release that only welcoming darkness could give me, and it could not come soon enough. I fought the urge to pace, to burn off the excess energy that pooled beneath my skin. Curious eyes watched from the pier, but I paid them no mind. I had spoken the truth to Azriel: I craved the shadows. Needed them. Now.

“Move a muscle and I’ll cut you ear to ear.”

I spun, the rustle of my skirt echoing in my ears like waves breaking on the shore. I tried to ignore the fascination with my new, preternatural hearing, but it still took a moment for my brain to process what I was seeing. A man, not much taller than Azriel but twice as wide, had one arm wrapped around Azriel’s shoulders. He held an old, rusty-looking knife against Azriel’s throat, the handle tucked below his ear. I took a tentative step back. And then another. The man smiled, revealing a mouthful of rotting teeth. The feral gleam in his eyes sent my heart beating a frantic rhythm, and I became light-headed as I realized that in my fear, I’d forgotten to take a breath.

“If you don’t wanna see yer man bleed to death right here on the docks, you’ll hand over yer valuables.” He hitched the knife higher and a trickle of blood ran down Azriel’s throat.

I swallowed down the fear that rose in my throat like bile. If this animal could take Azriel so easily, I wouldn’t stand a chance against him. Bigger, stronger, I would be nothing more than a helpless victim. “I-I have no valuables,” I stammered. It was the truth. Besides the new dresses that Azriel had bought for me, I had nothing. “Please, just let us go.”

My statement earned a round of raucous laughter. “Yer nothin’ but a daft bitch if you think I believe that,” he snorted. “You come walkin’ down in these parts dressed like you are and you’re just askin’ for trouble. So don’t lie to me again, or I’ll make him watch while I take my knife to you .” Azriel stood still as a statue, his chest rising and falling in a calm, rhythmic way. How could he be so at ease when our lives were in danger?

“Listen to the lady, my friend,” Azriel said, his voice constricted by his captor’s chokehold. “We have nothing to give you.”

“Bullshit.” The tip of his knife dug deeper into Azriel’s flesh and his dark eyes grew wide. “Empty yer pockets.” Azriel moved and the man gave him a rough shake, stalling any further movement. “Wait up. Don’t think I trust you.” He jerked his head toward me. “Have her do it.”

Azriel tensed as if nervous, but his eyes told a different story. He urged me toward him, nodding his head almost indiscernibly. Perhaps all he needed was a distraction. Just a moment to draw the thief’s attention so Azriel could gain the upper hand. Knees wobbling, I took a step toward him. My pulse skittered and my palms became slick and clammy. Terror gripped me with every inch that I drew closer to Azriel. Never taking my eyes from his, I reached into his pocket. From the corner of my eye I noticed the knife slacken against Azriel’s skin as our assailant came up on his tiptoes to look over Azriel’s shoulder and see what prize I’d fish from his pocket.

The moment of imbalance was all Azriel required. He twisted free from his captor and swung his fist, somehow missing the man’s jaw by inches. Before he could swing again, the thief brought the heavy butt of the knife down on Azriel’s head and he crumpled to the ground.

Spurred by fear, I dug my heels down hard, prepared to flee. The man reached out for me a second before I could turn to run. His rough hand clamped around my wrist like a vise, and he hauled me against him. Foul breath, reeking of liquor, washed over my face as he leered. When I tried to pull away, his other arm wrapped tight around my waist, squeezing my ribs so tight I struggled to take a deep breath, let alone scream for help.

The gray hour of twilight melted away, as if swallowed by beautiful night. I felt an exhilarating rush as shadows chased across my flesh, releasing me from the prison of my corporeal form. I dodged to one side, my movement so fast I doubted he even noticed. He reached out, wrapping his arms around nothing but air. “What the hell?” he said before whipping around. “You’re a tricky one, but it don’t bother me none. When I get my hands on you, you’ll regret playin’ with me!”

Azriel lay unconscious on the pier, but he had been right: under the cover of night, I was beyond harm’s reach. No matter how confident this filthy man was that he could overpower me, his hands would never make purchase. After all, who could possibly hold on to shadow? Azriel needed my help—he’d yet to regain consciousness—and my heartbeat pulsed in my ears as I prayed for him to wake.

I stepped from the surrounding dark and regained my solid form. I was fast—as fast as a gale-force wind—and spun to the side of our attacker, my long skirt flaring out around me as I melted into the night and reappeared at his back. “You are a vile man,” I spat before shoving at his massive back. He flew forward several feet and crashed into a stack of crates near the end of the pier. For a moment, I’d thought he’d lost consciousness, but he was only stunned. My strength astounded me; I’d overpowered him with as much effort as it took to move a feather. I swept toward him as nothing more than a dark cloud as he gained his bearings and barreled toward the spot where Azriel lay. I couldn’t risk him being hurt worse than he already was, and so I grabbed the man by the collar, spinning him around so fast that his head jerked wildly on his shoulders. I hiked up the hem of my dress and gave him a sound kick to the back of his knee. I heard the bone crack and he fell to the pier, his good knee breaking his fall.

“You would have killed us if you’d had the chance,” I murmured more to myself than to him. I pondered my unimaginable strength and wondered how Azriel had managed to let himself be bested. “He could have easily broken your neck,” I whispered. “ I could break your neck.”

“No!” he whimpered. “Pleeease.”

“Do it.” I stiffened at the sound of Azriel’s voice behind me. When had he regained consciousness? The man continued to blubber at my feet. I looked through the dark at his pathetic face, the tears that streaked down his cheeks to drip from his chin. Azriel’s fingers caressed my scalp before they threaded through my hair, and his warm breath caressed my neck. “If you don’t, he’ll victimize some other poor soul.”

My hands shook with fear as well as exhilaration and my teeth all but ground to dust as I clenched my jaw. Azriel was probably right, but I refused to take a life, no matter what had happened. “No,” I said. “I won’t kill him.” The man sobbed in relief and scurried to stand on his one good leg. He dared not turn his back to us as he hobbled away, his arms outstretched as if he meant us no harm. But he had. He’d meant to do us harm, and I had protected myself with no help from anyone. In fact . . . Azriel’s portrayal as a helpless victim seemed too convenient considering how easily I’d managed our attacker.