Shadow Sworn (Copper Falls Book 2) Read online

  She knew that the violence that had occurred was because of her. Two people were dead, five gravely injured, because Marshall had wanted to teach her a lesson. She’d defied him, refused to be properly afraid and compliant. This was his way of reminding her that he would always have the upper hand.

  She’d let herself forget how utterly evil, how deranged and terrible he was. Bile rose in her throat again, and she swallowed hard. Their deaths… she shook her head and leaned against the kitchen sink. She was there again, reliving other deaths.

  Her mother’s death in a “car crash.” On an empty road. The police had guessed she’d maybe crashed into a large deer or something, the way the front of the Chevette had been bashed in. Sophie’s only tie to the world of the Light, gone in an instant. Marshall had taunted her with it, even going as far as attending the funeral and extending his condolences to her father. She’d sat through her mother’s funeral with her murderer watching her every move with satisfaction.

  Her father’s death, when his big rig had mysteriously gone over the side of the Zilwaukee Bridge, killing him instantly. “Those truckers, always on one kind of drug or another,” Marshall had smugly said at her father’s funeral. “Such a shame, leaving a daughter behind.” She’d gone to the police then, as she had before over Marshall’s stalking. Nothing had ever been done, her complaints forgotten almost as soon as she’d voiced them. By the time her father’s body was in the ground, she knew it was hopeless.

  She’d stopped leaving the house. Until David. Until she’d been foolish enough to let herself believe she could have something good for herself. Until he’d drawn her out and made her feel beautiful and safe. He’d married her, and she’d been foolish enough to believe that the worst was past.

  Her parents’ deaths had been nothing compared to David’s. A suicide that wasn’t. Marshall’s pleased, smug face at yet another funeral. The knowledge that he’d died for one reason, and one reason only: she’d allowed him into her life. She’d let him in, and he’d been murdered by Marshall because of it. She decided then never to let anyone else in, that she wouldn’t risk anyone else. And she’d tried to die, and the Light had saved her, and she’d eventually made her way back from the brink, and the lure of death stopped filling her every moment. The letter from Aunt Evie’s lawyers had felt like a sign, a new beginning, a chance for life in the place she’d been born.

  And it was happening again. He wouldn’t hurt her. He wouldn’t risk hurting Calder directly, because they were connected in some weird way by the curse and he wouldn’t risk losing Sophie if he killed Calder.

  But he had no problem hurting anyone else she came into contact with. He’d demonstrated that perfectly the night before. He’d done it without a thought.

  She set her teacup down on the counter, clasped her shaking hands together. She still stared out the window. She could hear Calder snoring in her bed. They’d been up late, held tightly in one another’s arms in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

  She wouldn’t let him fall to Marshall, she told herself. She knew the inherent threat Marshall was making: he might not kill Calder, but he sure the hell could hurt him if Sophie pissed him off enough. The fact that he’d told her that once she became Shadow, those she cared about would be safe from him had been something she’d foolishly held onto. She was beginning to believe she’d been played for a fool. Nothing was sacred to Marshall. Nothing but getting his own way.

  She glanced into the living room, at the nook where the daybed was tucked between two large bookcases. Calder lay there, snoring lightly, chest bare, legs tangled in the white sheets. One hand rested on his stomach, the other stretched across her side of the bed, as if he was reaching for her. Unexpected, angry tears came to her eyes, Shadow was rising, Calder’s curse was eating at her sanity, and she was reliving too many deaths on top of seeing innocent people die in front of her. She felt like she was crawling out of her skin, filthy, wriggling madness making her feel full and nauseous.

  She grabbed a piece of chalk and left a note for Calder on the small chalkboard on the refrigerator: “Going for a run. Love you.” With one more glance at him, she walked out the back door, past her freaky goats, then toward the woods.

  When she was there, she ran. She wasn’t foolish enough to believe she could out-run the craziness inside her. But she’d rather be distracted by her lungs burning, her side aching, her legs screaming, than by everything going on in her head. Her feet pounded the soil, and the cold air stung her lungs. Her mind raced. She was aware that she was being pushed into a corner, having her options taken from her. Marshall had made his move, revealing his strategy. He’d take, and he’d destroy, and he’d stalk until she did what he wanted. Until she agreed to be his mindless servant, until it wouldn’t require threatening anything she cared about to make her do his bidding, because Shadow would be in control, because she’d finally given up on trying to keep herself together, on getting back to the Light.

  That may well be an impossibility anyway, she told herself as she ran. She could hear the falls in the distance. She’d been going to them more often, letting the sound of water rushing, bubbling, soothe her.

  Impossible, Shadow seemed to hiss deep inside her, rising again as if trying to force her to accept it.

  She let out a loud, enraged shout, and she released the stupid amount of power that had been building in her since the night before. She hadn’t focused it, hadn’t really tried to do anything in particular. The soil around her blew out in a wave, away from her, leaving her standing in a dead crater, all of the late wildflowers and fallen leaves gone along with at least a foot of soil.

  She bowed her head and tried to breathe.

  “You’ll kill yourself that way,” a wry voice said to her right. Her gaze shot up, and her stomach twisted in dread. Through the dusty air, she saw a person, features becoming clearer as the air cleared. Long red hair, that same black sweater held tightly around her. The witch from the Victorian house stood before Sophie, looking amused. “Unless that was what you were trying to do?”

  “N-no,” Sophie managed through gritted teeth. She felt dizzy. She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again, trying to re-focus herself. The witch was still standing there, looking bored. “Why are you here?”

  “What? Don't you like it when people show up at your home unannounced?” the witch shot back.

  Sophie just watched her, and after a moment the witch gave a derisive laugh. “You want to tell me what happened at that restaurant last night?”

  “Why?”

  “Because I have the feeling it was more than just some gun nut going off. You were there.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Word spreads.”

  “It wasn’t me.”

  “Yeah, no kidding,” the witch said, rolling her eyes. “I never said it was. But you should know that you could definitely make that happen. I’ve made that happen,” she added. “Though not to that extent. It used to be fun to see how many fights I could inspire in a night. Quite a few, to be honest.” She studied Sophie for a moment. “You’re not strong enough to cause that much violence in such a short amount of time. Your level of power would cause general irritation, maybe a fist-fight or two over time. But it would take a while.”

  “Well, that’s a relief,” Sophie said, taking a deep breath.

  “So who else was there?”

  “The warlock who turned me to Shadow,” Sophie said quietly.

  “Why did he do it?”

  “He was making a point,” Sophie said in disgust, and the witch nodded. “Why? Looking to join forces with another Shadow?”

  “Hell, no. I just wanted to verify my suspicions. This is the one you want to learn to fight against?”

  Sophie nodded.

  “Little girl, you don’t have a chance in hell.”

  Sophie crossed her arms. “You don’t know me.”

  “I don’t need to know you. All that matters is power, and yours is shit. Like
I said before, probably best to put your affairs in order.”

  “He’s not going to kill me. He wants to completely corrupt me. End my line and make sure we’re all Shadow… it’s a whole long thing,” she said with a grimace. “He’s nuts, basically.”

  “Of course he is. Anyone who’d go as far as he went last night is fucking insane.” The witch studied Sophie. “I’m guessing that’s not the first time, either.”

  Sophie shook her head. “I’m not just going to cower and let him have his way.”

  “Then more people are going to die while you posture and try to prove a point,” the witch said. “Is that what you want?”

  “No. It’s not, and I’m not going to let him do it again.”

  The witch laughed. “Let him? If he did that, there’s no ‘letting’ him do anything. Are you delusional?”

  “If you don’t plan on helping me, then leave. I don’t need you.”

  “That’s a lie, and we both know it. Even with as little power as you have, you could kill yourself or someone else, out of sheer stupidity.”

  “I figured out some of it,” Sophie argued.

  The witch was studying her. Then she blew out a breath. “The only thing I like less than having to deal with other Shadow, are men who don’t know the meaning of the word ‘no.’ And I rather like my house and I’m not in any mood for a bunch of crazies following the same stories you did in some witch hunt if he keeps doing this.” She was so tense, so angry, that Sophie was caught off guard. Then it hit her.

  “Has that happened before?”

  The witch gave a terse nod. “Years ago… I’m very old, little girl,” the witch added, and Sophie nodded. She knew that was possible from Marshall. Long life, extending your life through Shadow. “Years ago, I came here, and I unfortunately came across another—“ She broke off, then narrowed her eyes and stared at Sophie, then looked toward the house, as if fully realizing where she was. “Oh, hell no,” she said, turning on her heel and stalking away. Sophie started following her before she realized what she was doing.

  “What?” she asked the witch.

  “Nope. Hell no. I am not getting involved in your line’s particular brand of crazy again.” She spun and glared at Sophie, then snarled. “I knew you fucking looked familiar. You’re Migisi’s.”

  Sophie stopped, frozen. “You knew her?”

  The witch stopped walking, and pointed toward Sophie’s house. “That bitch is the reason the lovely people of Copper Falls came after me in the first place. She was fucking off her rocker, but they couldn’t hurt her. Too scared. And they knew what I was, so they came after me to make themselves feel better. Burned my house to the ground, tried to burn me with it.”

  Sophie stared at her, open-mouthed. “I… wow.”

  The witch gave a derisive snort. “Are you telling me it’s Marshall who caused that?”

  Sophie nodded numbly, head spinning.

  “Then I’ll say it again: you don’t have a chance. Migisi was strong, and he turned her, and she caused so much destruction that it became necessary for any witch, Shadow or Light, to hide what they were. People lived in fear of her and those like her.” She paused. “She settled down after a few years, but by then the damage had been done.”

  “She was turned from the light by Marshall. Same as me,” Sophie said.

  “Then you’re fucked, my dear.” And with those words, she spun and started walking away again.

  “Did you know Luc?” Sophie asked, and the witch paused. She did not turn, though something changed in her posture. “Did you?” Sophie pressed.

  “Luc was just another in the long line of people she destroyed in her own special way,” she said in a tight voice, still turned away from Sophie.

  “So you knew him?”

  The witch finally turned. “How do you know about Luc?”

  “His descendants still live here. Still living with the curse she put on Luc… sort of,” she said, looking away. “I’m in love with one of them.”

  After a moment of tense silence, the witch shook her head. “You all sure are good at repeating your mistakes,” she said. “You’d think he would know enough to stay away from your line.”

  “He came to me to see if I could break the curse.”

  “And?”

  Sophie shook her head. “I let Marshall turn me so I could take the curse from him. So I have it now, but it’s messing me up.”

  The witch watched her closely. “So you’re telling me that you have Shadow magic, you don’t know how to use it, and you’re slowly but surely losing your mind thanks to Migisi’s curse.”

  Sophie nodded.

  The woods were silent around them, Sophie realized. No bird calls, no rustles of animals running through the underbrush. Two Shadow witches. Of course. Life shied away, protecting itself from what they were. Not her, so much, yet. Her magic wasn’t powerful enough. But this witch… she could give Marshall a run for his money, Sophie realized.

  “What were you thinking, taking that curse?” the witch asked, vibrant green eyes searching Sophie’s.

  “I was thinking that I couldn’t watch him get worse. I saw his father at the end…” she trailed off and shook her head. “And I knew I’d cause less damage with it than he would. Shifter, you know.”

  The witch nodded, still watching Sophie.

  “I hoped it would buy me time. I didn’t count on it making me lose it so quickly. This, today, what you saw… that was what happens when I’m feeling nuts. The curse gets Shadow all excited, and then I have to take off and try to get some release. I feel like I’m this close to losing it completely,” Sophie said, holding her thumb and forefinger up, barely any light showing between them. “And I can’t lose it. If I lose it, he wins and Calder will never forgive himself for the fact that I took the curse from him. I have to win. You understand?”

  The witch silently watched Sophie for a while, as if trying to come to some kind of conclusion. “I’m Esme. And I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing it for me. And for Luc’s memory. Maybe his line can finally have peace.”

  Sophie nodded, a combination of relief and dread swirling within her. “Thank you, Esme.”

  “Not for you,” Esme repeated, and Sophie nodded.

  “What was so special about Luc?” Sophie asked quietly.

  Esme’s expression closed up completely, but not before Sophie caught what might have been regret in her eyes.

  “What wasn’t?” Esme said in a barely perceptible voice. Then, in a her more usual, commanding tone, “come to my house tomorrow morning. Know that this will hurt, and I may very well enjoy it, little witch.” This time, when she walked away, Sophie did not follow.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sophie pulled into the driveway that meandered toward Esme’s big creepy Victorian house. She was edgy, not just from nerves over whatever would happen when Esme started “teaching” her, but because of the argument she’d just had with Calder. He was not happy about her coming to Esme, to put it mildly. They’d argued about it most of the previous night, taken one another when they woke up that morning in a frenzy of need and anger, then promptly went their separate ways, him to work on Bryce’s car, and her for her shift at the resort. They hadn’t said a word to one another. She wasn’t budging on it, and he couldn’t understand why in the hell she would go to someone who clearly had a chip on her shoulder about Sophie’s family. A Shadow witch, no less. She didn’t disagree with him, but she also counted on whatever history Esme had with Luc to make her want to help for his descendants’ sake. She also didn’t tell Calder that the clock was ticking; she was having more and more time, every day, when she felt out of control and crazy.

  She got out of her car and straightened her back, steeling herself against the desire to run away. The witch in the creepy house was her chance. Didn’t matter if Esme hated her and her ancestors. Didn’t matter that she didn’t seem to believe Sophie could manage to protect herself or anyone else from Marshall. All that mattered was
that Esme was Shadow, and she knew things, and Sophie had way too much to learn and, as always, not enough time.

  Never enough time.

  She climbed the front steps to the huge wraparound porch, her sneakers making a “thud” sound on the wooden treads that practically echoed in the silence around Esme’s house. She lifted her hand and knocked twice on the old-fashioned wood screen door, and Esme opened the door wordlessly, waving Sophie in. Sophie took one more steadying breath, and then walked through the door feeling as if she was willingly stepping into a dragon’s lair. The front door closed behind her with a loud slam, and Sophie jumped.

  “There are rules here, little girl,” Esme began, stalking past Sophie and into another room, and Sophie followed. The rooms they passed through were stark. White walls, uncomfortable looking furniture. It looked more like a department store or furniture store, arranged in ways that suggested no one actually lived there. She followed Esme up a narrow stairway, and Esme kept talking. “You do what I tell you. I don’t give a shit if you get hurt. I don’t care if you’re tired, or if I hurt your delicate little feelings. If you can’t focus, I won’t teach you. I’m not wasting my time here. If you breathe a word of me to anyone else, I will destroy you.”

  “I told Calder already,” Sophie said quietly.

  Esme turned and glared at her. “He’s okay. Tell him to keep his mouth shut, too.”

  Sophie nodded. They walked down a long, narrow hallway. More white walls, doors closed on either side. Finally, at the end of the hallway, Esme opened a door and stepped into a room. Sophie followed her in and looked around.

  She realized they were in the large turret at the western corner of Esme’s house. The room was round, with soaring ceilings, and unlike the rest of the house, this room felt lived in. Tall narrow windows were spaced around the round room at regular intervals, looking out at the dismal scenery outside. But where there weren’t windows, there were bookshelves; tall, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, gleaming wood, with brass rails to which there was an actual ladder attached so you could reach the books on the highest shelves. Sophie had only ever seen library ladders like that in movies. The shelves themselves were packed with books, wooden and stone boxes, small works of art, sculptures, and enough other bric-a-brac that Sophie could have spent all day just looking through Esme’s bookshelves. In one half of the large room, there was an enormous desk that matched the gleaming wood of the shelves, its surface covered with books. A computer sat on the desk, looking out of place in the timelessness of the rest of the room. A large leather chair sat behind the desk, and the window behind it was the only stained glass window in the room. Sophie’s breath caught when she realized what it was: a large bear against a backdrop of fall forest. She tore her eyes away from it to see Esme studying her with an irritated expression on her face. Sophie began looking around the room again, her gaze landing once more on the stained glass. She appreciated the fact that Esme was letting her get her bearings, seeming to understand that she needed it if she was going to focus. The other side of the room was mostly empty, just an overstuffed sofa and large leather ottoman.