shadow war

My Shadow Hunt co-writer and I have been corresponding back in forth over the last month, working on the prequel to SH. The story, Shadow War, is about Peregrine’s grandfather, Ren.

We’re pretty excited with how the SW is coming out. I hope you enjoy this peek :)

Nolan had been wrong. Killing did not become easier every time one took a life.

Ren watched the blood snake away from his half brother’s body. It naked into the thin lines between the stones in the ground, creating pretty mosaic on the ground.

Power pulsed softly beneath his feet. It lapped at him, offering him warmth.

Ren sent a wave of magic out, pushing the power out. He sent it into the stones around him, into the twitching body lying on Nolan’s work table. The man’s body was open, but Nolan tended to keep his prey’s hearts beating. If he was fortunate–

The man was dead.

Ren released the spell.

As the power faded, it took some of his energy with it. Today he’d killed people he’d loved. The woman who’d taught him to read. His twelve year old niece who he’d taught to gamble. His half brother, the man who’d taught him to hide cards within his sleeves.

The man who bled people for power.

Pain clawed inside of Ren. Banshee take him, he was a monster.

Worse. He wasn’t done.

Ren made his way out of the room.

The hall outside Nolan’s work chamber was deserted. Ren’s steps made a sharp, uneven beat as he headed down the stone passage

The sconces along the walls were empty, leaving Ren in darkness. Right now, he preferred that. When he was in shadow, he could forget about the blood staining his clothes. His hands. It still felt warm.

Sharp footfalls approached. A moment later. A tall figure appeared at the end of the hall.

The figure turned, saw him, and then darted toward him, one hand at his hilt.

Ren gathered magic into his fingers. If this was one of Nolan’s secret guard, he likely wouldn’t survive the encounter, but perhaps he could destroy the man.

“Sire,” the guard said. “Are you hurt?”

Ren let the magic fade. It was Edric, one of the palace guards.

“No,” Ren said.

Edric jerked to a stop before him, catching himself in the last foot of light before the dark of Nolan’s hall swallowed it. The guard’s eyes narrowed, making Ren think the man was trying to see him more clearly in the dark.

“You need to remain behind me,” Edric said. “An assassin has slipped into the castle and murdered the queen and her daughter. They’ll likely look for you and the king next.”

“He won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.” Ren stepped out of the shadows.

Edric studied him. Ren wondered what he saw first. The blood? The rip in his right shirt sleeve? His pallor?

“Did his majesty catch the assassin and then invite you into his cham–forgive me, I didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s fine.” Though the question sent a memory of the captain of the guard’s scream tumbling though his mind. Nolan often invited people into his chamber. They just never left.

“Sire? Did he . . . find the assassin?”

“No. I found him.”

Edric stared at him.

Then, he shook his head. “Impossible. You couldn’t have.”

“Edric–”

“No.” The guard’s tone was sharp. He frowned, and then added, in a gentler voice, “With all due respect, sire, his majesty set spells to protect them. No blade would be able to touch them without him sensing–”

Ren held out his bloody hands and sent a wave of magic out. Power tumbled out of his skin, brushing the blood off and sending it raining to the stones.

Edric paled. “You . . . you’re a . . .”

“Witch.” A blood witch. Secret witch.

Kinslayer.

At one time, Ren had hoped to delight his half brother with his gift. His abilities had manifested late, and while he might never be as gifted as Nolan, he hoped that his power would allow him to be of some use. Perhaps he could join the witch council.

His studies took him into the city, though. As his powers grew, so did he. People weren’t leaving the city. They disappeared at night, and in the morning the streets shone a pale red. When the streets that wound around the city began to resemble open veins, Ren had known he
had to stop Nolan.

Nolan did not act alone, though. He had a wife who bathed in crimson. A young daughter who collected finger bones.

And a two-year old son Ren wished he could forget about.

Edric’s fingers slid over the hilt of his sword.

The small movement made something inside Ren relax. After weeks of planning, of whispered conversations and seeing people disappear, he was tired. He wanted this over.

He had one thing left to do before then, though. One last betrayal. Ren hoped it would kill him.

Edric stepped toward him. “His majesty–”

“Is in his chamber. Beside your captain.”

Silence.

Ren gave the man a moment to consider his words. They were alone. His leader and king were dead. The banshee hadn’t cried yet, so Ren had no protection. The guard could act without threat of reprisal.

When the moment passed and Edric hadn’t moved towards him, Ren had an unpleasant thought. The man wasn’t going to attack him.

A weight gathered shape in Ren’s stomach. It grew heavy, stabbing him with sharp, uneven edges. Edric might not have been one of Nolan’s favored twelve, but he was supposed to protecting the royal line. Ren’s shadow was outlined in blood but the man would not raise his
sword against him.

Ren shouldn’t have been surprised. He was, though.

“Hayden . . .” The guard gathered his breath. “Forgive me, but why . . .”

“People have disappeared across the city. Not all were Nolan.” His half brother had been certain they were slipping away, forming a secret army. When the captain hadn’t brought him any information, Nolan had become certain he was a part of it.

Edric glanced past him, and then back at Ren. “The banshee hasn’t
appeared.”

“I know.” Savon was still alive. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Ren stepped around the guard and headed down the hall. He kept his pace even. Calm. In a moment, Edric would realize where Ren was going and would stop him. His steps would overtake Ren’s and then–

Footfalls echoed his.

Ren waited.

And hoped.

And feared.

Savon was so young. He might not have any magic. He might not take after his parents.

Tess had taken to blood play young, though. She’d been just a little bit older when her mother began her crimson baths. About that same time, Nolan had read to her out of his book of flesh. Chances were, they’d already begun doing the same to Savon.

He was so young, though. If Edric struck him down, Ren wouldn’t have to kill–

“I’ve taken care of the matter, sire,” Edric said.

Ren stopped. Had Edric just said . . .

He couldn’t have.

Footfalls approached him. A moment later, they stilled.

Ren turned and found Edric pale.

“After I saw Elaina and Tess,” Edric said, “I went to Savon’s chamber. I was surprised to find him alive.”

“I heard Hayden scream.” And he’d thought, maybe. Maybe this time he would be able to save someone. Maybe.

He’d been wrong.

“I realized we were in the midst of a coup,” Edric said. “Nolan . . . I didn’t want the boy to be hurt.”

Ren hadn’t wanted that either.

“Did he . . .”Ren didn’t want to ask. “Wake?”

“No, sire.”

The shadows behind Edric shifted.

Edric turned, one hand going to the sword at his hip.

Ren drew magic into his hands. Bloody hell. He hadn’t undone all of Nolan’s spells.

For all of his sanguine hungers, Nolan liked to keep his attacks silent. How had the guard known–

Edric had been a witch once.

Ren had heard the whispers when Nolan first hired him. Edric had been a brilliant witch at the Academy but he’d broken his sacrifice.

Before Nolan, if any witch survived the loss of their magic, they quietly left Delvore. Nolan, though, saw it as a waste. They might have lost their magic, but they were strong enough to survive. That should be valued.

Former witches respected Nolan. Ren wondered if it’d been difficult for Edric to kill Savon. Had he told himself he was helping the child? Did he expect to not survive the night either?

The shadows shifted, and then something stepped out.

The figure was tall, with corpse pale skin, long dark hair, and eyes that burned crimson . . .

It was the banshee.

Ren stared at her. For her to manifest now meant that Savon was truly dead. Banshee take him, he . . .

Banshee take him. He didn’t deserve to live.

Ren couldn’t remember when he’d first learned of the banshee. There’d been whispers, conversations that stopped when he entered rooms, songs that children would stop when he joined them.

As he grew older, he caught snippets. During his grandfather’s grandfather’s time, there’d been a girl. Her lover betrayed her. She haunted his line, cursing every heir when they rose to power.

Past the first betrayal, Ren didn’t understand why she would do that. She’d gotten revenge. She could stop.

Years later, when he watched Nolan decimate the family of a healer who’d been unable to save Nolan’s second child during childbirth, Ren understood. Grief and anger twisted a person. Nolan’s revenge ended eight lives. The banshee took out her pain through generations.

The banshee sighed. The ethereal sound snaked out, sending a light, cool breeze playing over Ren. He drank in the sound and waited.

He’d gotten a glimpse of her once, after his father had died. He and Nolan had been sitting with the wizened man, taking turns reading to him.

It had been Ren’s turn when Anton stopped him, whispering that while he loved him, Ren needed to go.

The soft words had stung. Ren began saying he wanted to stay when life faded from Anton’s eyes, turning his eyes a pale lilac. Around the room, the shadows lengthened.

Ren rose then. He remembered that Anton had once had a younger sister, and that she’d been present when the banshee appeared. The ghost had plucked out her eyes, killing her. She didn’t like to share her kings.

Nolan had stepped before him then and told him to close his eyes. Past him, Ren saw an ethereal figure move in the shadows, and then he clenched his eyes shut.

Hello, your majesty.

Her voice was soft. Cool. It echoed slightly, as if someone was whispering in a tomb.

What do you have behind you?

“My shadow,” Nolan said.

Today, when the banshee’s touch circled them, Ren drew Edric back. He caught a glimpse of the man slapping a hand over his eyes and then the man was behind him.

A sigh snaked around Ren. The sound was light as a breeze, whispering over him and lapping at his skin. Threads of shadow followed, brushing Ren’s foot. His hand.

Judging by the gasp, the guard behind him.

“He’s innocent,” Ren said.

The banshee smiled. The curve of her lips reminded Ren of Nolan; a scythe curving across skin, offering life to some, death to others. There is no innocence in this hall, my fledgling king. It’s the price we pay so that the kingdom can survive.

“Then take me and spare in his stead.”

The banshee traced cool fingers over Ren’s face. Tempting.

“Please no,” Edric said. “Take me–”

“No!”

Many have died in this hall. No one will notice–

“I would.” The cold seeped into Ren’s skin. It ebbed through him, making him feel tired. “He has a family.”

I had one once.

The words were so soft. Aching.

“I’m sorry,” Ren whispered.

The words felt weak to him. He didn’t know who she’d been, what she’d lost.

He did know what it was like to turn on loved ones, though. When she cursed the king that had ordered her death, it had been in anger. Vengeance. When she cursed the one she’d loved? Something inside of her probably died.

The ethereal fingers slipped away from Ren.

Run, Edric. Before I change my mind.

Footfalls erupted behind Ren. Their beat was uneven, moving away, skidding into a turn, and then disappearing.

“Thank you,” Ren said.

His life belongs to you. When you tire of it, I will come for him.

The tendrils of shadow that had curled around Ren now rose, winding around his chest, his neck. They lapped over the blood on his clothes, sinking into the dark cloth and biting the skin beneath.

You were very fortunate with Nolan, the banshee said. Her mist moved away from Ren’s clothes. In their wake, the blood was gone. Everyone else who ever tried to kill him never left his chambers alive.

“Not true, my lady. He publicly executed the last person who made an attempt on his life.” It had been ghastly. Nolan had his belly cut open and had a box with starving rats placed over the wound. Ren still had nightmares of the man’s screams.

No, my fledgling king. He put the man’s lover to death. He didn’t kill the actual assassin until after he listened to the man die.

“Did he . . . was he involved?”

No.

Gods.

You, though, did more than survive him. You won.

“I was lucky.”

Yes.

The threads wove around his fingers. His neck. Power ebbed out of the darkness, lapping over his skin.

You will always be fortunate. You will survive things no one else could.

As her words faded, the shadows dissipated around Ren.

The loss of the ethereal touch left Ren feeling cold. His curse sounded light. That worried him. The banshee’s curses could both protect and hurt, and sometimes the kinder they seemed, the more dangerous they could be. Nolan’s enhanced senses led him to want to spill blood from innocents. Anton loved growing things, but any plant he touched died.

“You didn’t cry when Nolan died,” Ren said.

I don’t mourn him, the banshee said. Then, she laughed. The rumbling sound reverberated out, growing louder. Sharper.

When it faded, the banshee was gone.