Lost in Shadow (A Shadow Walkers Ghost Novel) (11 page)

She laughed. “Recharge? Like a cellphone?” Her body vibrated against him as she giggled. He tightened his legs around her, keeping her close, feeling her heartbeat against his chest. “So if I were a Walker, I could transform into a size-six, blonde Barbie?”

Colin blinked, not understanding, “Don’t know what or who a ‘Barbie’ is. Why would ye want to change your hair, ‘tis beautiful. ‘Size-six’. Why are women so obsessed with their bodies? Men like a woman with a lovely full arse. We don’t want a bag ‘o bones in bed with us.”

“I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

He started as she reached up and kissed him on the cheek, right on his hideous scar.

“Please continue.” She told him, tracing circles on his forearm.

Silk. Her lips were fine silk against his cheek. Every fiber in his being wanted to crush her against him, kiss her senseless, take her on the debris filled floor of the tunnel. He shifted her so his raging erection didn’t press against her. At least it was pitch black down here so she couldn’t see how badly he wanted her. How she enflamed his desire as he imagined her naked, riding him, calling out his name as she screamed her release. He wasn’t an animal, he could control his need for her. Sounding hoarse, he continued, trying to remember what he was telling her.

“Right. Like a mobile phone. Recharging keeps us going as the body, while manifested as flesh and bone, is nothing more than pure energy. If someone figured out how to harness this energy humans and animals would be enslaved forever. You can see why we have to keep what we are a secret.”

“Can’t you turn into a drill or some other kind of machine and get us out of here?”

He avoided telling her he was powerless. He didn’t want to tell her about the curse yet. “We can transform into anything organic. We can’t transform into anything nonorganic like a drill, cars, or a building. “When we kill a Day Walker or they kill one of us, we absorb the other’s energy and power to become stronger.” He coughed, tired. He’d lost a significant amount of blood. Digging in her messenger bag, she found a bottle of water and small baggie of Chia seeds.

“Do Shadow Walkers eat or drink?” Emily held out the water and seeds to him.

“Aye, we eat, drink, sleep, and make love. We don’t need to eat or drink, though it will keep us alive if we can’t pull energy to recharge; energy is what we need to live. When we are powerless we can’t use energy and have to make do with food and drink. I’m rambling, yes on the water. What the hell is in this bag? Pebbles?”

She took a sip and handed him the water. “Seriously, those are Chia seeds, a superfood. The ancient Aztecs used to rely on them for nourishment; they’re great for you and taste lovely in a green smoothie.”

“I’ll eat some of your tiny rocks but no way, no how am I drinking green sludge. Don’t care how good it is for me; give me a steak and potatoes any day.” Colin poured some of the seeds in his mouth. “They don’t taste like anything, kind of sticky.”

Murmuring a noncommittal reply, she finished off the chia seeds and tried to stay calm. It was so much to take in. Ghosts, Day Walkers, Shadow Walkers, immortals, whatever they were called. She sighed; her mind struggling to process the information. Something had happened to her when she died for those eight minutes—she was having a hard time actually believing there were such things running around this earth. Wasn’t ready to come face to face with anything else that hid in the shadows. This was enough to take in.

So many questions, leaning up to ask Colin to tell her more, the ground started to shake. Crying out, she wrapped her arms around him as something hit the ground next to them. Frantically feeling around him, her hand came to rest on a large piece of stone. Must have come loose with all the construction work.

“Wow that was close. We were almost beaned by that rock…Colin?” Something wet hit Emily’s face. Reaching up to wipe it off, she smelled the tang of salt, copper, and something else—the scent of the ocean. Holy crap, it was blood. Touching the left side of his face she felt the warm trickle. Continuing her explorations, she found the gash on the side of his head, near his temple.

Okay, head wounds bleed a lot, doesn’t matter if they’re serious or a scratch. This can’t be happening; I can’t be alone without him down here.

Taking deep gulping breaths, she willed her mind to relax. This could be really, really bad. They had to get out of here; he needed help. Shivering from the bone-chilling cold, she started to explore the confines of their prison, looking for some way to escape.

What if he didn’t wake up?

Sunday, November 1st

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the terrifying Black Bart, or do you go by Robert Bartholomew nowadays? Nobody does long hair anymore unless you’re a biker or model. Don’t you know it’s out of fashion to dress like a pirate? Suede pants, knee high boots, and a puffy white shirt? The Village People called, they want you back. Unless of course you’re off to a costume party but then you’ve got your days mixed up chap, Halloween was last night.” Rawlins sneered.

Robert raked a glare over the annoying Day Walker and growled, “If you’re here for some girl talk, you got the wrong guy. Yap, yap, yap, by the gods, I’d heard it was possible, but never believed you could actually talk someone to death. Don’t think for a bloody minute I don’t see those birds back there waiting for you. You can’t go around killing humans whenever you please, asshole.”

“Sure I can. That’s why we have all the fun while you holier-than-thou pricks run around cleaning up after us. Better head over to the docks, I left you a couple of presents—two thugs and I’ll leave you two more inside once I’m done out here.”

“I’d rather we handle this like gentlemen, more sporting that way. Remember what a gentleman is, Rawlins? At one time you claimed to be one. Pick the weapons. Much more fun that way mate, wouldn’t you say?”

Heading to the back door leading to the alley, Rawlins stopped and held the door, “After you, damned whoreson bastard.”

Stepping out into the alley, he sensed movement in the air, ducked and turned as Rawlins fist missed his face by inches. Spinning around, he caught Rawlins with a vicious kick to the chest, sending him careening into the metal door. A loud bang sounded as the door dented from the force of the blow. Shaking his head from the impact, Rawlins looked down, picked up a piece of rusted metal and threw it at him like a Frisbee, knocking him flat on his ass. Before Rawlins could finish him off; he vaulted to his feet, catching the bastard across the jaw with a right hook.

Head snapping back, Rawlins didn’t have time to react before he landed another punch to the bastard’s face and busted his lip open. Fists flying, they were well matched.

While Day Walkers, especially older ones, were tough and incredibly strong; Robert had been fighting since he was a boy, carving a fearsome reputation across England, Scotland, and Wales. Day Walkers had different powers depending on how old they were. Bloody Captain Rawlins Huntington was over five hundred years old with some serious juice from sucking humans dry. Not to mention, with all that energy, he had the power to bloody well fry you with an energy bolt if you weren’t careful. Shadow Walkers could do the same thing but any time one of them used an energy bolt, it temporarily drained their powers (unless of course, they’d broken the rules and sucked a human or two dry beforehand) so they’d be helpless until they could recharge in the moonlight, or in the case of Day Walkers, in the sunlight.

You had to watch the bloody Day Walkers or you’d end up dead and wandering the in-between as a wraith. The good captain had been sucking humans dry for so long, enjoying the taste of energy as one enjoys a fine glass of wine, that he’d never stop, not until a Shadow Walker stopped him—permanently. Robert had to admire the guy’s strength and ferociousness, even if he was a prime grade-A asshole.

Without warning two other Day Walkers appeared, attacking while Rawlins stood back. Robert was thrown into the dumpsters lining the alley wall by a bolt of energy. Dayum, Rawlins was juiced after feeding on humans tonight. Thank god the thunder was loud enough to disguise the noise they were making in the alley. Wouldn’t do for any humans to get curious and investigate.

“Hmm, I guess weapons are out now that we’re using energy. That the way of it? All right, let’s finish this.” Robert taunted them, materializing in front of one of the losers.

Too fast for human eyes to follow, Robert caught the man with an elbow to the nose. A satisfying crunch told him the nose was busted. Spinning, he stabbed the other in the heart with his serrated dagger, ripping it out of his body. Crushing the heart, the Walker burst into gold dust. No worries about clean up. Before Robert could enjoy the satisfaction of dispatching the bugger, the second asswipe hit him over the head with a manhole cover, dropping Robert to his knees.

The cheater jeered as he approached Robert, “Aw, the big, bad pirate, isn’t so fearsome after all. Call this a fight? What a waste of time. Guess I’ll go inside and snack on a few lovely ladies. Don’t bother to get up. I’ll finish you where you are, pirate boy.” A sword materialized in his hand. Swinging for Robert’s head, he connected with…air.

Before he could react, Robert jumped up from a roll, landed on his feet, pivoted and ripped out the loser’s heart before stabbing it with his dagger. The Walker disintegrated into gold dust.

That’s two less Day Walkers in the world.
Dusting his hands against his breeches, Robert looked around for Rawlins.

He watched Rawlins push off the wall, stalking towards him with twin golden blades clenched in his fists. Materializing an ice blade, no ability for modern-day police to trace them, they were his favorite weapon; he paused, hearing sirens blaring in the distance.

“Another time, Shadow Walker.” Rawlins mocked, as he dematerialized back to the realm of Day Walkers.

Three police cars roared down the block into the alleyway behind the pub.

“Stop, don’t move,” shouted two officers. Robert glanced at them, making eye contact for a moment with one of the cops. Moving into the shadows, he disappeared.

“Hey, did you see that? There were two guys here, weren’t there Monroe? Where’d they go?” The younger officer scratched his head.

The one called Monroe pointed out the dented door. “Those were either two strong sonofabitches, or they were high on something. Who knows, in this part of Edinburgh. These tourists think it’s safe to wander around at all hours of the night, exploring wherever their fancy takes them. Don’t they realize like any city, Edinburgh has dangerous areas to be avoided? Areas where they might only be mugged if they were lucky; killed if someone was having a particularly bad day, like today. Makes me want to shake some sense into the lot of them.”

Sensing the change from night to day, Colin struggled to regain consciousness. For a moment, he felt someone holding him, crying over him…before the blackness pulled him under.

Dying. He was dying, his brother’s blade embedded in his heart. Trying desperately to take air into his lungs, struggling to live, he heard voices…Abigail’s voice.

“Oh my, it smells terrible down here.” Abigail shrieked.

“Darling, be careful where you step.”

His heart slowing, lungs straining for some small amount of air, Colin knew he was dying. How could Hamish and Abigail have betrayed him? Gladly would he have given Hamish gold and lands if he’d asked; he’d provided a large estate, Castle Gloom, to Hamish upon his betrothal, telling Hamish it wouldn’t be long before he had his own wife to love, cherish and make sons with. How little he knew—Hamish was plotting to steal everything. Colin loved Hamish, always looked out for his wastrel brother, protected him. All he received in return was a knife to the heart…his reward for trusting anyone.

“Hamish, my love, let’s depart this dreadful place. I want that horrible painting of Colin burned immediatley.” Abigail stamped her tiny foot and flounced out of the dungeon.

“Rawlins, have this bloody, revolting mess cleaned up.” Turning on his heel as Colin shuddered with his last gasping breath, blood dripping on the damp stone floor; Hamish strode out of the dungeon, wiping the bloody ring clean before sliding it onto his finger.

Leaning against the far wall, Rawlins looked disgusted. Instead of calling for the guards to dispose of Colin’s body, he removed the manacles, lowering the warrior to the floor. “In another life baron, I think we might’ve been mates.”

Colin was moaning, thrashing about, in the throes of a nightmare while unconscious. On the bright side, at least he wasn’t dead. She’d kept him warm against her, promising anyone who was listening she’d give up chocolate, Pepsi, and wine if they’d let him be okay and get them out of here.

Swearing, Colin couldn’t hear over the infernal racket. And why was water dripping on him—were they going to drown in this godforsaken tunnel? Sitting up, his head spun.

“Wait, you’re hurt. A rock hit you on the head. There was so much blood, I tried to stop it but you wouldn’t wake up.” Drying her eyes and hiccupping from crying, Emily helped Colin sit up.