Chapter 2
“The soldier has been relieved of
duty,” Cam said to the video stream of Adam Thorne. It was the
first time he’d spoken to his new boss face to face. Thorne wasn’t
much older than he was—thirty-two to his twenty-seven—but he looked
like he had another decade on him, shadows under his eyes, a little
grey starting to pull through his hair. The man was married to a
half-fae, half-human woman, a banshee, who’d just delivered twins.
It was a wonder his hair wasn’t completely prematurely
white.
“Some people aren’t cut out for Segue,”
Adam answered. “I’m glad no one was hurt.”
So was Cam. He’d known he would see
some unsettling things during his employment at Segue, but he’d
thought they’d come from creatures like the fae, wraiths, even Ms.
Russo’s shadow. Not a human being momentarily losing
control.
“Where is the shadow now?”
“We don’t know,” Cam answered. “Ms.
Russo believes the shadow was scared by what happened and is now in
hiding.”
“But if the shadow can’t be harmed by
gunfire, what is it afraid of?”
“Ms. Russo claims that the shadow acts
on instinct, not reason. My guess is that it perceived a threat,
and ran. Simple as that.”
Cam thought back to Ms. Russo, and her
reaction. Her pretty face had been tense with worry. She had dark
blond hair, blue eyes, a full mouth, lips pressed together in her
anxiety. In the summer, he’d bet she would freckle. Every muscle
and bone had been rigid as she asked for help. And then there was
her double with that smooth body, moving just so—soft and fluid
even under attack. She was Eleanor’s opposite, and her mirror. The
pretty Eleanor Russo, it seemed, was pretty
everywhere.
“I reviewed the video of the
interview,” Adam said. “The shadow jumped at the soldier. She was
completely wild.”
“But the shadow didn’t harm him,” Cam
pointed out, “and she did have cause to protect herself since his
attack was unprovoked. She didn’t hurt him, whether it was her will
to do so or not.”
“You felt nothing when you attempted to
touch her?”
“That’s correct,” Cam said to the
monitor. “Thus far, the shadow seems to exist within the same
parameters as a ghost and can’t affect the physical world. However,
she is considerably more self-aware than what I know of
ghosts.”
Adam looked down, presumably at the
report Cam had sent an hour before. Details were being verified and
cross-referenced, but according to Ms. Russo, she’d lived as almost
a complete shut-in all her life. She was a premature home birth,
but had survived without hospital care. The shadow had been born
simultaneously, exiting her mother’s womb through the flesh, while
Eleanor was delivered vaginally. Shortly thereafter, first her
father, then her mother abandoned her, leaving her to a grandmother
who was savvy enough to move them both out into a rambling old
farmhouse in the wide open spaces outside Phoenix. Eleanor had been
homeschooled and received an accounting degree online, which she
used to support herself. She taught herself to drive at night, on
the farm, but rarely left the property. Before the grandmother died
five years ago, they had developed a plan to keep Eleanor in
hiding, the shadow constrained to the immediate area surrounding
the house.
There had been surprisingly few
opportunities for discovery, all initiated by the shadow’s attempts
to garner attention from passersby, escalating over time. Ellie had
confessed that since the death of her grandmother, both she and her
shadow had not been handling their enforced isolation well. Ellie
had looked for a cure, while the shadow had grown more brazen.
Hence, Segue.
Five years alone with her shadow. No
wonder Ellie was so pale, so stressed, so desperate. And she’d
depended on him. It made him feel like shit that he couldn’t help
her, and worse that he’d been rude.
Cam cleared his throat, and Adam raised
his head.
“Personally, Mr. Thorne, I’d like to
see Ms. Russo made as comfortable as possible. The cells were
prepared for wraiths, not a traumatized woman.”
Thorne frowned, considering. “It just
so happens I’ve got a wraith in transport to the facility. Really
bad timing for a mystery shadow, especially with Segue short
staffed. I thought I’d be there tomorrow to oversee the wraith’s
imprisonment. I don’t want to complicate the situation by putting
them both in the same space.”
A wraith and Eleanor’s shadow—what
would that be like? Trouble. But interesting.
Thorne blew out a breath. “I’m with
you—if that shadow could have harmed the soldier, I believe she
would have.” He shook his head once, as if arguing with himself.
“I’m going to regret this, but go ahead and move Ms. Russo into the
main building, under surveillance at all times. The Order’s rep
will be there tomorrow, anyway, so it’s just one night. And it
might do everyone some good, considering what happened with that
soldier. Segue is not for the faint of heart. If they can’t take
one shadow, they can leave.”
Cam had gone still at The Order. That was a new term to him, but it didn’t
sound good for Eleanor Russo. “Mr. Thorne, who exactly am I
expecting?”
“It’s not for me to explain,” Thorne
answered. “In Ms. Russo’s case, defer completely to the rep’s
judgment.”
“If he wants to take her into his
custody?”
“His call.”
But Ms. Russo hadn’t come for help from
the aide from The Order, whatever that was. She’d come to him, so
she was his responsibility. “And if she doesn’t want to
comply?”
Thorne’s eyes narrowed at Cam’s
question. “She gave up that choice when she entered
Segue.”
Ellie gripped the edge of her seat as
the jeep sped down a wide access road toward a massive white
building with historic flair. On her entry into the Segue compound,
she’d caught a brief glimpse of it before she was taken to the
underground prison. Now she had a view of a modern, crate cluttered
loading dock of sorts, over which the white building loomed. Her
pre-trip research told her the place was once The Fulton Hotel, but
the idyllic resort in its Segue incarnation looked more
intimidating than welcoming. A soldier drove, a second sat next to
him. And another jeep followed behind, for backup. So many people
concentrated on her.
Her shadow had curled up, half on the
seat, half on Dr. Kalamos’s lap, not unlike the way she used to
occasionally behave around Gran, needy and whiny, but now with an
attention seeking body awareness, arching to form the most
provocative curves for the good doctor’s benefit. And here Ellie
felt crushed by the proximity of so many people. She wanted to be
alone. Felt best alone.
Pathetic. That’s what Ellie and her
shadow were.
Ellie knew it was all her fault. For
her part, she’d simply never been exposed to complex social
situations. As for her shadow, well . . . her dark half’s earlier
seductive talk and poses were for random male attention. But now
she’d fixated on Dr. Kalamos, which was infinitely more
embarrassing. Ellie let no part of her body touch him. She sat as
straight as she could, recounting in her mind his claims that he
could not help her. His work was in a different field. She’d made a
mistake, that’s all.
Ellie flicked her gaze over at her
shadow. Her dark half sent a resentful look her way and cuddled
deeper, clearly not accepting the idea of a misunderstanding. She
was holding on to Cameron Kalamos, no matter what Ellie decided or
what the reality of the situation was.
“I’m keeping him,” her shadow
said.
Ellie blushed and looked out at Segue’s
grounds.
“Would it help if I told her I wasn’t
interested?” Dr. Kalamos asked.
“But I know you are,” her shadow put
in, and adjusted to an even more intimate position.
Ellie kept her gaze fixed out the
window, but shook her head. “No. Only her own interests matter to
her. We came here to see you, so her focus is fixed. I’m sorry.
Maybe tomorrow”—with the aide—“she’ll be better.”
Dr. Kalamos had lost his irritated
manner, and was now more friendly. Hours ago, Ellie would have told
this version of him everything. Now she wouldn’t tell him anything
at all.
“Apology not necessary,” he said. “She
must’ve been very hard to live with.”
He still didn’t get it. Ellie kept
quiet. Was her predicament so hard to understand? She guessed so.
Even with all these people pressing in around her, she was still
alone with her shadow.
“So you’ll be staying here tonight,”
Dr. Kalamos said, with too much energy and brightness. “The place
is supposed to be haunted, though I’ve never witnessed a ghost
myself. It’s possible that your shadow might interact with the very
long-term residents of Segue. Please let me know if a ghost makes
an appearance. There’s a pool going between the research teams for
who sights one first.” He smiled as if it was a joke. She had no
idea what he was talking about. “Anyway,” he continued, “if you
have any problems, you’ll be able to signal an alarm, and a team of
soldiers will be just outside your door. Otherwise, take a load off
and relax. Watch some TV.”
Ellie tried not to look at her shadow
again, but glanced anyway, and found the dark eyes trained right
back on her.
“He’s not telling you something,” the
shadow said.
“And we’re renovating,” he added,
ignoring the commentary. “A wraith tore the place up over a year
ago, so you’ll see some unfinished mess here and there. Stuff is
being hauled around as people move back in. Do you know about
wraiths?”
“Yes,” Ellie said. Was that what he was
hiding? The existence of wraiths? Or was it something else? If her
dark half had sensed an intent to harm, she wouldn’t be so attached
to him.
“Monsters of the modern age,” he
continued. “Their physiology is actually very interesting. If
you’ve been following the news, you’ll have seen some reports,
though you’ll get better information online.”
They pulled up to the back of the big
white building. The passenger side soldier jumped out before the
jeep came to a full stop.
“Here we are,” Dr. Kalamos said. “Let’s
get you in and settled.”
The soldier used a keycard to open an
outer door that led to a small atrium where they halted. Her shadow
walked through the next door, while they waited for security to
clear them. When the second lock released, Ellie found herself in a
hallway lined with more soldiers. In the doorways were Segue staff
members, getting a load of her shadow, who was grinning back and
loving the attention. Pleased as punch, Ellie thought the
expression went. None of the spectators seemed scared of her
shadow.
People, people everywhere. Men and
women, different ages. Ellie felt exposed and naked, which she was
in every sense. A freak for their inspection.
An older man bent his head to a fellow
staff member. “Observe: The light should highlight planes on the
body and darken others, but it is movement and interest on the
shadow’s part that affects her appearance.”
Ellie needed to get out of
here.
“Ms. Russo,” Dr. Kalamos said,
gesturing to the speaker. “This is my team leader, Dr. Leonard
Shelstad.”
Dr. Shelstad was older, tall and thin,
with a long chin. Ellie guessed she was supposed to shake
hands—normal people did that—so she wiped her damp palms on her
slacks and held out her right. Leonard Shelstad only gave her a dry
squeeze, so maybe she had the greeting wrong. She’d only shaken
hands once before, and that was a long time ago.
Her shadow hissed. “I don’t like
him.”
Ellie didn’t either.
A couple of the other staff members in
the corridor murmured, but Ellie couldn’t tell where the sound was
coming from. The atmosphere was tense, but with keen interest and a
healthy wariness. The fear was all hers.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Ellie said to
make up for her dark half’s rudeness.
Shelstad stretched his mouth into a
maybe, maybe-not smile.
“This way,” Dr. Kalamos said, taking
Ellie’s upper arm to coax her down the hallway. His hand was warm
and strong, so her shadow let out a wheezy sigh and trailed close
on their heels. Two soldiers followed her shadow.
Ellie was glad to be on her way. She’d
take the wraith cell now, and happily. She wanted to be alone. Too
many people. Too many eyes and voices.
Dr. Kalamos was right about the
renovation. The first rooms they passed through had wires poking
out of the ceiling and smelled of paint. In the greater spaces
beyond, large boxes and crates waited to be opened. The floor was
covered with protective plastic. A couple industrial dollies rested
against a wall. The place was obviously in flux.
But the elevator was working, and took
them up two floors to a comfortable one bedroom apartment.
Everything—the red sofa, coordinating chair, deep chocolate table,
even the fireplace—looked new and modern. Nothing like the
well-worn dump of her farmhouse. Gran had made it homey when Ellie
was growing up, but Ellie hadn’t done anything since Gran died. Why
bother? It was just herself and her worse self.
Dr. Kalamos gestured toward the
bedroom. “I believe there’s a change of clothes and basic
toiletries in there. Dinner will be brought up on a tray.” He held
out a necklace, which she regarded with suspicion. “It’s a panic
button. Press and help will come. But you’ve got guards right
outside as well.”
Ellie took the necklace, a silver
bauble with a red button on the front, strung on a black cord.
Okay. But she doubted she would need a panic button. It was the
staff of Segue that would want one when her shadow roamed. As much
as Ellie wanted her seclusion, curiosity often drove her dark
half.
Dr. Kalamos clapped his hands and
rubbed them together. It was a weird, hurrying gesture. “You all
set, then?”
No, she wasn’t. “The aide you
mentioned. I’d like to know more.”
“Hiding something,” her shadow
repeated.
Oh. Something to do with the aide
then.
Dr. Kalamos’s expression relaxed into a
natural worry. “I don’t know anything about him. I’ve never even
heard of the organization. But then, I’m pretty new here, and as
I’m sure you can tell, Segue is not completely up and running. It
will be fine.”
Ellie’s stomach pitched. Fine was not reassuring. “What are they going to do with
me?”
He sighed audibly. “All I know is that
you’re here for the night.”
One night? She felt cold.
“Please don’t worry. Obviously we’ve
deemed you safe enough to move into the main building. That’s got
to mean something.”
Not much if she had only one night. Why
couldn’t she breathe right?
Dr. Kalamos’s green eyes grew serious,
and he lost the insincere smile. “I’ll be there with you. I won’t
let anything bad happen. You came to the right place.”
Ellie wasn’t sure of anything anymore,
but she wanted very much to believe him. And he sounded as if he
were making a promise, albeit one she couldn’t trust.
“Now get some rest, if you can.” Dr.
Kalamos walked to the open door and nodded to the soldiers. Were
they here to protect her, or protect others from her? The latter.
She was sealed inside.
Ellie stood helpless in the middle of
the room. Couch, chair, TV. All very nice, and useless. She was
imprisoned again. She’d wanted to be alone, but now it just seemed
to emphasize how different she was from everyone else, how
powerless.
She looked to her dark half for
company, the very being she’d hoped to cast away on this
venture.
But she was shifting through the
impediment of a wall. Before she disappeared entirely into Segue,
she looked back to smirk, a wicked gleam alight in her black eyes.
And then she was gone.
Cam waited in the hallway outside Ms.
Russo’s door for the shadow, guilt gnawing at his guts. He was an
asshole, leaving Eleanor like that. She’d come to him for help, and
he was going to turn her over to the mysterious aide, who could do
whatever the hell he wanted with her. It felt wrong. He’d like to
see her at ease. Put her at ease, if he could. She’d been through
so much and hadn’t received the reception or assistance she’d hoped
for.
Aide. What the hell was that? He had
half a mind to call Adam Thorne and demand some answers.
The Order sounded medieval, like The
Inquisition.
Two soldiers guarded her door. A third
operator, Jose, the one who’d given him the mouse under his eye
during martial arts training, was assigned to Cam personally.
Training at Segue was mandatory for everyone. Jose took position
opposite the door. The three appeared unafraid. But then, so had
the soldier who had fired on the shadow.
Ms. Russo’s shadow wasn’t scary. She
was cool. Very cool. And not dangerous. No aide or Order
necessary.
In fact, Cam was certain she’d follow
him out of the apartment, considering her recent attachment. She’d
probably try to seduce him again, which he would ignore as
professionalism required. He wasn’t interested in sexual congress
with the shadow. He was interested in the shadow herself—how her
mind worked, what motivated her, her essence, how she came to be.
It was a fascinating phenomenon.
One night, then tomorrow . . . what? He
guessed he’d be back in the lab, jockeying for research hours with
Shadow, capital S.
“Shadow is on the move,” a soldier said
suddenly.
Cam startled, looking right and left,
down the lengths of hallway outside Ms. Russo’s room. “Where?” The
minx had to have gone another way. Why use a door when you don’t
have to?
Excitement thrummed in his blood.
Eleanor’s shadow, one more proof that the laws of nature were
defunct, was on the move. Aside from the sudden sinister aide of
the creepy Order, this was a great place to work.
Jose was listening to his earpiece.
“Level two. West side. Still moving.”
It would be foolish to wait here. Cam
and Jose jogged down the hallway. They skipped the wait for the
elevator and took the stairs two at a time to get to the security
center. Once there, Cam hoped to have a view of the major open
areas within Segue. None of the offices or apartments was
monitored, except for Ms. Russo’s, a necessary
precaution.
“She’s totally random,” Marshall said
when Cam joined him at the extended console manned by security. “We
spotted her in the West atrium, then she vanished into the
unfinished apartments. Scared the shit out of Dr. Marea on four,
then ended up in the kitchen ogling a cheesecake.”
A wall of monitors showed the rooms and
corridors of Segue. Soldiers were stationed throughout. Sightings
were to be reported immediately. Most of the rooms were empty,
though awash in light so that security could better view the
shadow’s movements. The lab levels showed more activity—it was
almost evening, but work was life here. Interesting that Wiley
Scott was hanging out at Carol Witter’s office. At the edge of one
of the lower rear balconies, a couple of staffers sat chatting
while having a smoke. No shadow.
A flat screen to Cam’s left listed the
shadow’s reported appearances. They had only six. Not enough to
look for patterns. Cam didn’t really expect there to be any. Whims
and impulses, Eleanor had said.
The view into Ms. Russo’s apartment
showed the flesh and blood version idling at a window, looking out.
After a while, to Cam’s amusement, she did sit down on the couch
and turn on the television, but only to flip through the channels
restlessly. Food was brought up to her. Cam went hungry. Ms. Russo
rinsed her dishes in the apartment sink. She paced.
The hours wore on.
“Contact,” another soldier said, his
voice coming through the monitor. This time on the third floor
again, moving more slowly. Cam watched on the monitor. The shadow
walked to the center of the room, and then stalled as something to
her right caught her attention. Whatever it was took her through
the wall.
“What happened?” Marshall asked the
soldier.
“A sound got her attention,” came the
soldier’s voice over the console speaker.
On a monitor, Barbie Hinkle, a systems
tech, ran toward the soldier, pointing in the direction of her
apartment. Her hair was dripping, a robe belted at her waist. Cam
could make out few words. Most of them were foul.
Similar scenarios played out over the
next two hours. The list on the flat screen grew. Ten. Fourteen.
Nineteen. The shadow responded to noises and people and light. She
wandered into the ghost hunters’ elaborate setup of apparatus, then
left right away again. He liked her more and more. The ghost
hunters were full of crap.
Flesh and blood Eleanor Russo did not
sleep. She’d curled up on the sofa staring at the TV. At one point,
she swiped at her face, so he knew she’d started crying. And he
felt like an asshole all over again, wishing he could help. She was
a nice girl. Strong, brave, smart, and way too
serious.
“Ten minutes, no sign of the shadow,”
Marshall noted.
But Cam continued watching Eleanor.
He’d known her all of twelve hours, and even when the soldier had
fired a few feet from her position, she’d kept her steely
composure.
Then again, maybe she felt like she
could cry now that she was alone. Maybe the tears were a girl
thing. Tough under pressure, bawl in private. Could be.
Yeah.
Still didn’t feel right. Cam shook his
head, no. If Eleanor was going to cry, it would have been when they
threw her in the wraith cell. Cam would have been bawling himself
to be imprisoned in the facility. Bad things were going to happen
to the wraiths down there. He’d have felt no shame whatsoever
pleading for mercy to get out.
No, something was upsetting Eleanor
deeply.
“I think we need to find her shadow,”
Cam said. “And now.”
“I thought that’s what we were doing,”
Marshall said.
Eleanor was weeping, her face in her
hands. What had happened? Something had to have
happened.
Twenty minutes staring at the screen.
Nothing.
“I’m going to check on Ms. Russo,” Cam
said to no one in particular. “See if she’s okay.”
His last glance at the monitor showed
Eleanor pacing again, wringing her hands as tears streamed down her
cheeks. She grabbed the fob at her neck and pressed her panic
button. The alarm sounded at his back as he darted from the
security center.
The three minutes it took to pelt back
to her room were too long. The soldiers who had been on guard were
already inside, a couple more besides. One was reporting an “all
clear” to his commander.
Cam could hear Eleanor arguing as he
approached the door. “You get Dr. Kalamos back here right
now—”
He waved the soldiers aside as he
entered.
Eleanor whipped around, eyes blazing
with anger on top of some other deep, wrenching emotion. “What have
you done to her?”
“Nothing, I swear,” Cam answered.
“We’ve been tracking her, but—”
“I don’t believe you. I can
feel her.” Fresh tears streaked down
Eleanor’s flushed cheeks. Her eyes had gone aquamarine with her
distress. “What have you done?”
“Eleanor, we haven’t harmed her,” he
said. “We’ve only been tracking her. We have our orders to wait
until the morning and turn you both over. I’ve been completely
truthful from the beginning.”
Had the aide arrived early? Now he was
really worried.
“I don’t believe you.” She obviously
held him responsible. And damn it all, he kind of held himself
responsible, too, though just where he’d gone wrong, he didn’t
know.
“Can you find her?” Cam asked. “I’ll
follow. You’ll see she’s just hiding in someone’s apartment or
something.”
The alternative made him very
uncomfortable; he hated the idea of someone here getting their
hands on her. Who the hell was he working for? Maybe Segue was too
much of a good thing. Working here was so good, there had to be a
catch; maybe he was finding it now. Shadow, the fae . . . maybe the
opportunity to research them came at too high a cost.
“No, I can’t find her,” Eleanor said,
voice raw. “She’s the one who finds me.”
“Fine,” Cam said, taking her by the arm
and pulling her out the apartment door. “We’ll find her together.
Search the whole goddamn place, over and over if necessary. Just
you and me.”
And the soldiers dogging their
steps.
They were on the main floor, in the
hotel’s renovated grand entrance when Eleanor went still. She
frowned, her gaze sharpening toward a wall.
“She’s that way.” Eleanor lifted an arm
and pointed. “She’s hurting. I’m
hurting.”
Cam took her raised hand and squeezed
it in his. “Then we go that way.”
All the way to the middle of the
labyrinth, if need be. He had to know for whom he worked. He had to
know if he was with the good guys or the bad.
Eleanor took him from doorway to
corridor, through rooms Cam had yet to visit, most empty and in a
delayed state of repair. These had to be part of the phase two
renovation he’d heard about. None of them was secured, much less
monitored. Plastic hung like ghosts over doorways and walls that
were framed out, some with insulation, others wavering heavily with
their swift passage.
What could have possibly interested
Eleanor’s shadow here? No light, no noise, no people to
entice.
They came to a heavy metal door with a
keypad, which Cam’s passcode opened, to his surprise. He’d figured
that sooner or later he’d reach the limit of his security
clearance, but the shadow was obviously not lurking in a high
security zone.
Beyond was a wide hallway, white and
scuffed, with another set of sealed double doors at its end. An
exit, probably off the west side of the building. A ladder lay on
its side near the wall, splattered with paint.
And farther down, kneeling on the floor
in profile, arms reaching toward a long, narrow panel—drywall?—was Eleanor’s shadow.
“See?—” Cam began to
Eleanor.
But Eleanor was already rushing down
the hallway. Cam and the soldiers ran behind, though no danger was
apparent. The passage had been quiet; no sinister Segue procedure
was being enacted on the dark form, for which he was very relieved.
They all came to a halt when the front of the panel was visible; it
was not drywall, but a painting.
Eleanor’s shadow was on her knees. Cam
almost dropped to his own.
He looked upon the
Shadowlands.
He’d hoped one day to see this place
with his own eyes. He’d worked hard to earn the right, and even got
the coveted job that would offer the possibility. For this, he
would’ve given and would give everything. Maybe, oh
God, even allow innocent Eleanor Russo to be taken away by
an aide of The Order.
Magic.
The panel was a window to another
world, one alive with lush wonders. Ancient trees filled the view,
with leaves of deep, raging color—indigo, magenta, midnight purple.
And they moved as if alive, as if the trees were aware he gazed on
them with all the longing in his heart. Shadow, his Shadow, that
new and oh-so-old element he sought to study, fell thick in every
hollow and copse. He sensed that if he reached, he might scoop a
handful and drink it like river water. And within the darkest
patches, movement. The fae.
It was the between world—the place
where the mortal world met the Hereafter. On every level of his
being, he desired this place.
He gave a soft, breathless groan of
want, but no . . . the sound his heart made came from a female
throat. At his side, composed and controlled Eleanor was weeping
again. She wept for Shadow. Fierce longing pulled at her features,
as she too, looked on forever. She seemed in the midst of both
devastation and epiphany. He knew exactly how she
felt.
And below him, kneeling, her shadow’s
arms tried to embrace magic. The slight break and stress of her
wrists emphasized how empty her hands were. She reached toward the
forest, the stretch of her body anguished with need.
Eleanor had been weeping for at least a
half hour before they’d found her shadow. She must have been
feeling this—he knew she had. But how?
We are the same,
Eleanor had said. I am her and she is
me.
Something clicked in his
mind.
He was an idiot. Worse, she knew he was
an idiot. Her shadow was not a reflection or ghost twin or
doppelganger.
Her shadow was herself. Therefore, only
one woman was in the hallway with him. One woman, split into two,
elemental and reasoning, in respective bodies, but one.
Further, the sweet Ms. Eleanor Russo
was not so controlled, not so compliant, certainly not cooperative.
Part of her was intensely curious, wanted sex and wanted it bad,
sought attention at every turn, acted on pure instinct. The other
part was deliberate, enduring, brave, and desperate in her
cause.
Separate, she had a big problem, one
she’d hoped he would solve. Altogether, she made one hell of an
intriguing woman.
Huh. Been a
while since he’d had a crush on anyone. It was as good a reason as
any to do the right thing.
He sighed, blowing out his decision
slowly. He would not be turning Eleanor over to any aide tomorrow,
not unless all of his questions were satisfied. And he had a
bundle. Asking hard questions was what he’d been trained to
do.
His gaze slid toward magic again and
his heart leaped.
Still no. He would not be
tempted.
He’d see the Shadowlands again, would
pour his mind and guts into the effort, but most likely not at
Segue. As of tomorrow, he’d probably be out of a job.
Ellie couldn’t stop the tears. They
came from her dark half, her deep self, who was rapt with awe at a
painting. The painting was lovely, a life-sized vantage of a
forest. Great skill had been exercised to render the depth of
perception and the layered mixtures of colors, especially in those
mysterious patches that seemed almost black, but not quite. Anyone
could see that a talented artist had painted this. In the past, her
shadow had occasionally responded to art with emotion, though never
to this degree. The last time Ellie had hurt this much was when
Gran passed away. The tears hadn’t stopped falling then, either.
Even now, every once in a while . . .
Now Ellie knew why. For once Ellie saw
what her shadow did.
A dreamland of trees, steeped in
seductive fantasy. This was passion dark and rich, with a power
that she had never imagined. It made her body scream for touch, her
mind fragment with the throb of magic. She wanted this, needed to
feel this, but it belonged to her other half. Her shadow got the
best of everything.
“Can you cover it up?” Ellie asked.
Please.
Dr. Kalamos reached over and squeezed
her hand, as if he could possibly understand how she felt. “You’re
not alone.”
Ellie snorted through her tears. “I’m
never alone.”
Kalamos lifted his chin to one of the
soldiers. “Can you see if there’s a tarp somewhere back
there?”
The soldier departed and Ellie closed
her eyes against the feelings that still surged within. A sudden
sense of loss and disconnect had her stumbling, but that was just
her shadow’s reaction, foundering after the painting was
covered.
“Don’t . . . please . . .” her shadow
begged.
Ellie turned her back on herself and
strode down the corridor. She could find her way on her own if she
had to. Stupid shadow, making her feel like that. It wasn’t
fair.
“Wait, Eleanor!” Kalamos
called.
She didn’t want to stop, but a soldier
impeded her progress. She wouldn’t look back.
“I understand,” Kalamos was saying, but
not to her. He had to be talking to her other half. “It’s pure
magic.” He was talking about the painting again. “That’s
Shadow.”
“Yes,” her dark self
breathed.
Ellie braced against a pang of longing.
It hit harder than she’d been prepared for. Shadow, the element
he’d said he studied. He should have just said magic. The potency
of it made her little shadow problem seem trivial.
“I want it badly, too,” he continued.
“But it’s always there. You know that, right?”
“Yes.” Again, spoken with
longing.
More sweet pain jolted Ellie. Damn them
both.
“But not tonight,” he
said.
“I want to see it now,” her shadow
insisted. “Now.”
“It can’t be now,” he
explained.
Was he actually trying to reason with
her again? Did he actually think he could placate her with a
promise of later? For her shadow, there was no later.
Ellie didn’t turn at the sound of Dr.
Kalamos’s approach. He stopped just behind her.
“If you walk
away,” he said, “will she eventually lose interest in the
painting?”
Surprise forced Ellie to pivot and meet
his gaze. It almost seemed that—? Had he finally—?
“No,” Ellie answered carefully. “I’m
pretty sure her interest is caught.”
The feeling was as strong as when Gran
died, though not nearly as hopeless in tone. The grief following
her death had been so ragged and cold, the future so unbearable,
that Ellie had wanted to die herself. Similarly, her shadow had
crouched by the grave for weeks, unmoving, raw in sorrow. But when
she finally returned to the house, she returned more bold and
powerful than she had ever been in Ellie’s life. Ellie didn’t want
to think about what had happened next.
“What does her interest in the painting
mean for you?” he asked.
Ellie shrugged. “That she’s predictable
for a little while.”
“That you’re
predictable,” he corrected.
Ellie held her breath. Yes, he finally
understood. He’d be putting it all together now, associating her
shadow’s actions with Ellie. All that writhing and strutting. Heat
flew to Ellie’s face. She was exposed. She wrapped her arms around
herself to cover what she could (nothing) and nodded, unable to
deny it.
Concern and humor filled his gaze.
“Until you, I thought I was pretty smart. Took me all day, didn’t
it?”
She nodded again, wary and
miserable.
He held out his hand. “So let’s start
over. I’m Cameron Kalamos. I’ll leave off the Dr. until I think I’ve earned it again. Why don’t you
call me Cam?”
“Cam,” she repeated, shaking a hand for
the third time in her life. This time it felt right. Like she was
really meeting someone. And someone who had witnessed the worst in
her, yet seemed okay with it. “I’m Ellie.”
“Ellie,” he said, his green eyes going
to crescents. “How do you do?”
Ellie felt her blush heat, and looked
away from those penetrating eyes or her shadow would take notice.
She might have already, and would bring her naked self over. But
her shadow was still looking at the covered painting, distress on
her face.
Yes, it was that
beautiful. That wrenching. But Ellie would take the interest in
Cam’s eyes any day.
A commotion had them all turning. There
was overlapping movement as others joined them in the hallway, Mr.
Black Pants in the lead. “Cameron, what’s going on
here?”
Cam’s arm went around Ellie’s waist as
he brought her forward. “Ellie, this is Marshall Grouper. He
manages things around here.”
Marshall nodded her way, but kept his
attention on Cam. “The shadow?”
“We found her,” he said. “She’s formed
an emotional connection to the painting at the end of the hallway.
Actually, I have too. I’d sure as hell like more information about
it.”
Ellie wondered about the artist, and
what he or she must have seen to have painted such an evocative
setting. The artist had to have been looking with his shadow,
too.
“It’s Mr. Thorne’s property and none of
your business,” Marshall was saying. “What was she doing to
it?”
“Just looking,” Cam answered. “She
can’t actually touch anything. We’ve covered it now, but Ms. Russo
thinks that her shadow will remain preoccupied
regardless.”
Marshall gave Ellie his full attention.
“She can’t stay here.”
Ellie tensed at being put on the spot.
Ummm . . . “Then move the painting?”
Cam laughed, but mostly at Marshall
Grouper, which made her warm inside. Her reaction was
dangerous.
“Brilliant idea,” Cam said. “Problem
solved. Now I’m going to escort Ms. Russo back to her room so she
can get some rest. I’ll meet you in security and explain in greater
detail.”
Ellie kept very quiet on the way back.
This felt too good, too glowy. Any happier and her shadow might
just break from the painting and crawl all over Cam, and she’d have
to hate herself all over again. The soldiers followed, solemn, an
ever-present reminder of her strangeness, yet the walk through the
big hotel gave her the even stranger feeling of belonging. Hallways
and connecting rooms, the elevator. The only sound was a soft whir
pulling them upward.
She’d never said good night to a man at
her door. Had only seen the interaction on TV and read about it in
books. Cam stuffed his hands in his pockets, and kind of looked
nervous himself. The sight made her grin.
“You’ve got a gorgeous smile,” he said,
stepping back. “You should use it more often.”
The glow within went brighter, scary
bright, so she could only give a lame shrug. The door closed, a
lock snicking into place.
And Ellie felt a break within,
coinciding with another strong surge of delicious emotion. Twice in
one night, the painting, now this, each so different. Her shadow’s
power was definitely growing.
It was her own fault, really, because
she liked Cam so much. She’d bet anything now that her dark half’s
interest had shifted. And that her shadow was once again on the
move.
Cam checked his watch—2:54 A.M.—as he got into the elevator with Jose. By now,
everyone had to realize that Ellie’s shadow was safe, that the
extra protection was unnecessary, but it was too late to
argue.
Adrenaline falling, Cam wanted some
coffee. Strong and black. And a sandwich. And a
bathroom.
At least the rest of the watch tonight
would be uneventful, now that the shadow’s attention had settled on
the painting. That predictability might go a long way to help
Ellie’s case tomorrow. What harm could the shadow do? None. He was
certain of it. Ellie had come to him for help. He’d give what he
could.
He glanced over at Jose, who had his
head cocked slightly, an eyeball trained on him, eyebrow
lifted.
“What?” Cam asked.
Jose’s mouth twitched, mocking, in
answer. It was the same kind of derision Cam was used to in martial
arts training, minus the pummeling.
“Shut up,” Cam answered. He was only
being friendly to a nice girl. That’s all.
“It’s your funeral,” Jose
returned.
Cam ignored him the rest of the walk
back to the security room. He’d barely entered when Marshall nodded
toward a monitor. “I thought you said the painting would hold her
interest.”
Cam moved quickly to see for himself.
“She’s gone?”
“Not two minutes ago,” Marshall said.
“Streaked from the room. Literally. Right after I updated the . . .
uh, aide on her supposed enduring interest.
Thanks a lot, Kalamos.”
“I don’t understand.” Cam peered closer
at the monitor, as though the shadow would materialize for his
effort. The painting had been moved from the hallway to what
appeared to be one of the larger rooms on the first floor, from
what he could tell of the oversized windows and the gleam of the
wood floor. This room’s renovation was completed, though it lacked
furniture. The painting leaned against a wall, still
covered.
It didn’t make sense. He’d seen the
shadow’s reaction to the painting. He was still feeling the effects
of it himself, a kind of soul ache that intensified with the memory
of the trees. Ellie had felt it too; she’d been touched the same
way he had. Her tears were not feigned, nor was the longing in her
expression. And her shadow was the conduit. There was nothing
within Segue more powerful than that painting. Why it had been
stored in that unsecured hallway was beyond him. Somebody had to
have made a grave mistake.
“She’ll be back,” Cam said. “Has she
been spotted anywhere else?”
He glanced at the monitor that viewed
Ellie’s apartment. The flesh and blood version was curled up on the
couch, her face hidden. Dozing? He couldn’t tell.
This would have been so much easier if
her shadow had stayed put.
“Haven’t seen her yet,” Marshall
answered.
Cam turned, dismissing the monitors.
“Doesn’t matter. The shadow is harmless.”
“There’s nothing harmless at Segue,”
Marshall drawled.
Cam sighed his frustration. It seemed
Ellie wasn’t going to make any friends tonight. And once again, he
had to find her shadow. But first, Nature called. Better see to it
in the lull of activity. That sandwich would go a long way,
too.
He was just zipping up when he sensed a
presence, causing goose bumps at his nape. He fastened his button
as he turned, fresh energy jetting into his blood.
Ellie’s shadow. The matte grey of her
skin had deepened to onyx, but her features were just as sweet.
Though she didn’t require oxygen, her chest, still outrageously
bare, rose and fell with rapid, deep breaths.
He guessed she wanted him
alone.
Professional. “I thought you’d stay
near the painting.”
“This is better,” she answered. She
smiled that fantastic smile. Ellie had no idea what effect it
had.
Cam was more than flattered. If Ellie’s
shadow was here, looking at him like that, then Ellie herself had
to like him a lot. And not that clinginess from earlier in the day
in the jeep—that was her desperation still hoping that he might be
able to help her. The other Ellie, the one who used her mind, had
kept as far away and formal as she possibly could
have.
Naked Ellie arched before him, one hand
gliding up her belly, smooth and tight, between her perfect
breasts, over her slender neck, her cheek, and into her hair. The
other skated lower, to the inside of her thigh. Her lips parted,
head tilting back to look at him.
Cam’s mouth went dry, while another
unprofessional reaction overcame his body and threatened to
embarrass him.
I’ll never live it down
if Jose busts the door open.
“Please,” her shadow
begged.
Laughingstock for
sure.
“I can’t give you what you want,” Cam
said. “You know that.” She had to know that.
“But I want so
much, so bad to . . .” The fingers at her thigh pressed into her
flesh.
The pressure at his groin turned
painful. Think about Jose. Ugly
Jose.
“In time there will be someone . . .”
he tried.
“You.” She drew
closer, putting a hand to his chest. His damn brain was playing
tricks on him because he could almost feel the light pressure
stroking up to circle his neck. “I want you.”
He looked away, gritting his teeth to
get his body back under control. “I like you, too, Ellie, God knows
I do, but . . .”
The sweet dark body drew closer.
“Yesss.”
Cam swallowed. “. . . and maybe someday
we can pursue this, but—”
“Now.” Ellie’s shadow pulled herself
up. Her face eased closer, dark eyes trained on his mouth. When her
lips brushed his, again he had that feather light sensation of
touch. Phantom sensations, that’s what this was, his mind filling
in the blanks in the absence of true stimuli.
And then her mouth pressed, silky soft,
against his. Real. An erotic fantasy girl suddenly come to
life.
He angled his head to get the kiss just
right, and took it to the place where there was no air, just the
whomp whomp whomp of his heart and the feel
of her body against his. He touched her tongue and rasped for
friction.
A naked leg went around him. The band
at his waist released, startling him.
The shadow could be
touched.
An internal red flag waved, but his
arms went around her anyway—so smooth on the curve of her hip. She
slid a hand up his back under his shirt.
The thing was . . . he’d thought Ellie
had said that her shadow couldn’t do anything. He’d asked her
specifically, and this was definitely something. If her shadow
could touch him, touch him, then what else
could she do? With her ability to walk through walls, she was
unstoppable.
Cam’s blood cooled and redirected at
last. He shifted to grip the shadow at her shoulders and push her
away. She whimpered in protest, her skin tone dissipating. She lost
that strange sense of solidity so that he was suddenly, abruptly,
left holding nothing. Just looking at a wicked smile and black eyes
that should have been blue.
And here he’d been willing to give up
his job for her.
Eleanor Russo had lied.
“I’m telling you the truth.” Ellie
stood behind a chair, gripping the top of its back like a shield.
Her gaze shifted from Cam to the soldiers in her room and back to
Cam. Her shadow had to have done something really bad this time.
Ellie was so sick and tired of this. It had to end. It would end,
no matter what; she’d make it end.
Her shadow sulked in a corner of the
living room, but Ellie ignored her.
“And I am telling you that she touched
me.” Cam’s voice was back to cold and clipped. He ignored her
shadow too. “Physically touched
me.”
“I want you,” her shadow said. More
like whined.
Ellie closed her eyes. She knew she
shouldn’t have gotten so close to him. Liked him. Gran would be
making that tsk, tsk sound with her teeth.
Ellie had done this to herself. She never should have come here.
This was all a big mistake. On every level, hers.
“Maybe you imagined it,” Ellie said,
trying to divert him. Her shadow had only been able to touch
something once. Most likely he’d imagined it.
Either that or Ellie had sought help
too late; her shadow had grown too strong for her.
“He touched me, too,” her shadow said,
and she never lied. Her dark half stroked
her breasts, chest, neck, so Ellie got an idea what had happened.
Her shadow had made what Gran would have called a
pass.
“I admit that I’ve been slow to
understand the dynamics of your situation,” Cam said, “but I am
absolutely certain that for a time she had a physical form.” His
nostrils flared with his anger. “It’s already tomorrow, so very
soon you won’t be my problem anymore”—Ellie shivered—“but I’d like
to understand what happened before I take action.”
“I want to go home,” Ellie said, more
to herself than him.
Her shadow hissed
disapproval.
“Too late,” Cam said. “Are you going to
cooperate?” He gave a humorless smile. “Or am I wasting my
time?”
Ellie’s eyes still burned from the
tears she’d shed earlier. She scraped her bottom lip with her
teeth, considering, then decided she had nothing to lose. She’d
come with the intent to tell everything, but had flinched in that
first interrogation. Was the delay worth it? Was it worth that
electrifying moment she’d had in the doorway with Cam? She didn’t
know.
“Worth it,” her shadow
said.
Ellie stepped around the chair and
dropped her weight into it. She leaned forward to hold her head in
her hands, elbows on knees. She was so damn tired, but yeah, she’d
tell. She’d even reveal that last lie, which wasn’t fair, because
from what she knew of people, everyone lied. Big and small, they
got to hide behind all sorts of distortions of the truth. But not
her.
“Yeah, okay.” She shook her head
slightly, unable to believe she was going to utter the words. “My
shadow has once before, and only once, been
able to touch something. Me, actually.” Ellie lifted her gaze to
Cam. Tears pricked, which she blamed on her shadow, but Ellie
didn’t let them fall. “It was when I tried to kill
myself.”
The edge in Cam’s eyes dulled somewhat.
The frown remained.
“My Gran had died,” she explained
simply. She didn’t have the heart to go into how much Gran had
meant to her, how she’d kept her sane and made life easy. How good
she’d made the house smell—lavender scent everywhere. Ellie
couldn’t relate how Gran had welcomed her miserable dark half and
had ridiculous conversations with her. Why Erik Estrada was cuter
than David Hasselhoff. Why shoulder pads made women look like men.
Ellie almost laughed at the memory. “When she died I was so
miserable, completely alone. Or not, depending on how you look at
it.”
Ellie sat back up, but crossed her arms
for warmth. “Living seemed pretty hopeless, so I weighed the
advantages and disadvantages of existing like that, and decided
that I couldn’t.”
Cam’s frown deepened.
Gran would have been so disappointed.
Likewise, her shadow whimpered again behind her. Gran had worked so
hard to make them happy and help them understand how each self
worked, and why. But understanding was not living.
“I went for quick. Tied the rope
right.” Ellie’s heart beat hard at the memory, costing her
air.
A flash of memory hit her: The high
ceiling over the stairs in the farmhouse. The logistics of climbing
over the banister at that steep angle.
She licked her lips to keep going, but
backtracked to make the telling easier. Talking about this made her
body feel so strange. “My shadow had been unbearable. She’d taken
to standing in the middle of the road, and she was getting more and
more attention. It had to stop.”
Cam’s brow furrowed. “In our
cross-check of your background, we received a local newspaper
report about a ghost on your street. A young, naked
woman.”
“That was her, but it happened all the
time. Seemed like, anyway.” Ellie smiled bitterly, then choked on
her next words, but got them out anyway. “So I
jumped.”
“I want to live,” her shadow said,
circling her arms around Ellie’s shoulders. “I will live.”
Ellie locked her gaze on Cam’s. He
wanted to know what kind of a nightmare her shadow could be? Well,
here was the truth. “Her skin went all black, utterly opaque, and
she held me up, mid-air, without anything to support her.” Did that
scare him enough? To this day it still scared her. “She fought me.
I tried a knife. She broke the blade in half. Stopped my car from
smashing into the house. Forced food and water down my throat.
She’s so damn strong.” Ellie glanced at the soldiers, the terror of
those days alive in her mind. “She is stronger than all of them put
together. I don’t recommend attempting to harm me.”
“You know I don’t want to hurt you,”
Cam said.
“He likes me,”
the shadow confirmed in Ellie’s ear.
“What would your grandmother have said
about all that?” He drew something from his pocket. A
syringe.
Brave man. Stupid, but
brave.
Both Ellie and her shadow looked at the
long, clear implement. But her dark half didn’t darken, didn’t move
to intercept.
“Gran would’ve said that I didn’t
really want to die.”
Cam started forward. Was he actually
going to test her shadow after all Ellie had told him?
“I don’t think you did either.” Cam
took off the cap of the needle. He gave her a sorry look, then
flicked the plastic.
Her shadow watched, her arms still
clasped around Ellie.
Ellie started to shake. “What are you
going to do?”
And why didn’t her shadow stop
him?
“I have to take precautions, Ellie.”
His jaw flexed as he lifted her arm. “We’ve had enough excitement
for the night, I think. I’m going to sedate you.”
He was going to shut them both down.
Almost like killing her, but not.
He didn’t trust her.
A prick, a burn as he dispensed the
fluid. Ellie went warm. At the edge of her vision, she saw her
shadow’s arms dim—that was new—and then there was
nothing.