Midnight Shadows (Sky Brooks World: Ethan Book 3) Read online

  “By all means,” Josh declared, “feel free to just walk in without knocking.”

  I shut the door behind me.

  “I think my next lecture isn’t scheduled for”—he frowned at his watch—“some other time.”

  I unclenched my jaw to speak. “What were you doing with Sky?”

  He rolled his eyes dismissively, then went back to positioning his leopard-patterned chair as if there was some organization behind his chaos. “You know I’m training Sky to use magic. Honestly, Ethan, we’ve gone over this a dozen times. This conversation is getting rather old.”

  “What magic?” I demanded.

  He paused to look at me, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “I loaned her mine. We didn’t break anything—other than a few drinking glasses. Come to think of it, those were from the set you gave me for Christmas.”

  I clenched my fists as I glowered at him, then slowly released them. “You were using dark magic—Ethos’s magic. I could feel it. For miles.”

  He gave me a suspicious look. If anyone could fool me with a lie, it was Josh, but he didn’t take the risk. Instead, he simply remained silent, watching me.

  I said through gritted teeth, “I know that you let her keep some of his magic.”

  He dropped into the leopard-patterned chair and crossed one knee over the other. “It’s powerful magic,” he conceded, “but I’ve kept her practice confined to here.”

  “You just can’t stop taking chances, can you?”

  “What chances?” he snapped.

  “Why did you let her keep it?”

  He rolled his eyes at me. “It’s a trace amount.”

  “It’s dangerous, Josh. It’s reckless.”

  He shifted onto the edge of the chair, his eyes bright with excitement. “She can create a field more powerful than anything I can make, Ethan. The pack values what I can do for them. Imagine having even a thimbleful of Ethos’s power at our disposal. No one would even dare challenge us.”

  I saw it there in his eyes, the lust for power that drove my brother from one problem to another. He couldn’t help himself. Forcibly relaxing, I strode to his couch, knocked some crumbs off the cushions, and sat. I let out a slow, steady breath before I spoke.

  “How long until she completely expends the magic?”

  “I’m not sure that she will,” he said, surprised. “Every time we test her abilities, the magic remains as powerful as it was from the beginning.”

  “How is that possible?”

  He shrugged. “Probably because Ethos is dead. I’m not sure.”

  I tried to rub the stress from my forehead as I considered the dilemma Sky represented. I didn’t care for magic. At times, it was useful, but it was unpredictable and notoriously unforgiving. Sky didn’t have the experience to handle that kind of power, and Josh was too willing to take risks to be trusted with her.

  “Can it be removed from her?” I asked.

  His mouth opened slightly as he stared at me in disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Are you that paranoid, or just that controlling?”

  “Josh—”

  “I can’t do that to her.”

  Arguments between my brother and me were nothing new. It was my job to keep his head on straight—to keep it on at all. Normally we’d shout and throw things and occasionally throw punches at each other, but I was doing my best to hold my frustration at bay. Fighting with Josh was never productive. I needed him to listen.

  “When she used Ethos’s magic,” I said carefully, “I felt it from two miles out. I tracked it all the way here—to her.” He leaned toward me, concerned. “If I could feel that, so could someone else. Or some thing. It’s too dangerous for her to have that kind of magic. She hasn’t earned it. She has no idea what she’s playing with, and no experience on how to control power of that magnitude.” I ignored his scowl. “Just tell me if it’s possible.”

  Josh sighed. “The Aufero could do it.”

  The Aufero was an orb with the power to absorb the magical abilities of others. It was one of five powerful artifacts that were protected by special supernatural beings known as the Mouras Encantadas. It was a responsibility that was passed down through the Moura’s family. We had recently learned that Sky’s mother had been the Moura in charge of protecting the Aufero. Something had caused her to carry it away from her family. When she’d died giving birth to Sky, that responsibility fell to her only daughter, but by then the Aufero had already fallen into someone else’s hands. How or who, we didn’t know, but it eventually ended up in Marcia’s hands. She’d found it a convenient tool with which to neuter her rivals. Enlisting her help was out of the question.

  I had another idea. “Could you use the same ritual you used to drain Ethos’s magic from Sky?”

  “With some modifications,” he reluctantly admitted. “What we used in the field was pretty raw, and obviously not one hundred percent effective. But I can’t do that to her, Ethan.”

  “Think about it,” I said.

  He stared back at me with narrowed eyes and said nothing, which was the closest I was going to get to a concession, for the moment.

  Relaxing into the couch, my gaze drifted to the coffee table, where I noticed a printed drawing of three old book covers with simple but distinct lettering surrounded by unique symbols. The shelves in the pack’s library were full of such books, but something about the covers in the drawing seemed unusually familiar.

  Josh interrupted me. “Did you come here just to harass me, or was there a point to your visit?”

  Remembering Tim’s manila folder in my pocket, I drew it out and removed the contents. First I handed Josh the copy of the driver’s license, followed by the USB drive. “We might have another problem. Tim pulled over an out-of-area witch who gave off a distinctive dark-magic vibe.” Josh studied the driver’s license closely, shook his head, then retrieved his laptop from another room and placed it on the coffee table. I pulled a lime-green accent chair next to him.

  He watched the dashcam video three times, his gaze pensive, before he spoke. “I don’t recognize him, but I’ll see what I can find out.”

  “Is he a threat?”

  “I just don’t have enough to go on yet.”

  I rose and moved the chair back where I’d found it—not that it mattered.

  “We need to talk about Maya and Ethos,” he said. “I think I figured out their connection.”

  I listened carefully as he explained. By the time he finished, I needed a drink.

  On the drive home, I couldn’t help but question whether Sky joining the pack had been a smart decision. I’d initially objected to the invitation because it wasn’t the kind of life she’d wanted. Once the vamps had discovered her unique traits, I’d realized that bringing her into the pack was the only way to protect her. Unlike other were-animals, her blood could stop a vampire’s reversion, and there was still the mystery of how her blood could’ve been used in the ritual Demetrius had intended to perform with the Gem of Levage. Without the pack, it was only a matter of time before the vampires tried to exploit her.

  Her inclusion in the pack came with its own challenges.

  Together, Josh and Sky were a dangerous combination. When it came to magic, both of them were overly curious and reckless. By keeping some of Ethos’s magic, she’d inadvertently put the pack in danger. Every time they practiced with it, they were lighting a beacon to the dark forces of the world, of which there were plenty.

  I had a hard time shaking the anger.

  I was halfway home when my phone rang, a unique ringtone assigned to my godmother. I placed the phone into the dash holder and put it on speakerphone.

  “Claudia,” I answered, smiling. “It’s good to hear from you.”

  “Ethan, how are you?” she asked in her South African accent, which most people confused for British.

  I caught a faint edge in her voice. “I’m well,” I answered. “What can I do for you?”

  “I’m afraid I have some difficult news. It
’s about your grandmother. The nurse said they’ve been leaving you messages but you haven’t replied.”

  I pressed a button on my screen to see my missed alerts. There were two voice mails, left about fifteen minutes apart. I’d been so deep in my thoughts that I hadn’t bothered to check my phone since I’d left Josh’s house.

  “I have not listened to them,” I admitted.

  “I’m afraid she’s taken a turn for the worse. You may want to visit her soon, before it’s too late.”

  The news was not entirely unexpected. Miriam was eighty-four and had suffered from dementia for years. Three years ago, she’d lit her apartment on fire by trying to cook oatmeal on top of the toaster. No one had been hurt, but I’d been obliged to move her into Twilight Harbor, a reputable home where she could receive the supervision and support that her condition required. Unless pack business intervened—which happened more often than I cared to admit—I visited her every Monday, though there were periods of time when the pack was in crisis and it became necessary for me to remain out of contact, lest I draw the wrong kind of attention to her and the rest of the residents of Twilight Harbor.

  I took the next exit from the interstate and changed directions. “I’m on my way now.”

  “Ethan, I have something important to speak to you about. Visit me when you can. There’s no rush, but don’t take too long.”

  I frowned. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “My regards to your grandmother,” she said, then ended the call.

  Taking advantage of the pack’s connections with the local police, I didn’t worry about speeding. A short time later, I arrived at the home with a bouquet of daffodils and roses, Miriam’s favorites. The nurse emerged from the room just as I arrived, relieved to see me. She offered me an empathetic smile.

  “She’s lucid at the moment,” she informed me, her voice a gentle whisper. “I’m not sure how long that will last. She’s been noncommunicative most of the day. Her body is shutting down and she refuses to eat.”

  The odors of impending death wafted from inside the room, just strong enough for my enhanced sense of smell to register. When the body shuts down, it begins to emit an odor, faint at first but progressively more prominent as death approaches.

  The nurse continued, “I know this is a difficult time for you. Before you leave, we should discuss her no resuscitation order.”

  I nodded, then walked past her into the room. Miriam appeared to have fallen asleep, her comforter pulled up under her chin as she lay supine. Her once flowing brown curls were just a hint of their former selves, reduced to faint, white wisps. Her cheeks were pallid and her eyes appeared more sunken than usual. On the nightstand, the bouquet of daisies I’d brought two weeks ago were wilting in a vase.

  Since Josh and I were only half-brothers on my mother’s side, Miriam was alone except for me. Her husband had died under mysterious circumstances shortly after my father had been born, and she’d never remarried or had another child.

  I sighed as I threw the wilted daisies into the trash, changed the water in the vase, then arranged the new bouquet. Afterward, I pulled up a chair to her bed and sat with her.

  We’d never been close. She’d always been a decent woman to me, but she’d never been particularly maternal. It wasn’t in her nature. She’d never forgotten a holiday or a birthday, often purchasing extravagant gifts, and she took an interest in the more measurable aspects of my life—my education, for example—but there was never an emotional connection between us. She’d never touched me—never touched anyone. As far as I could remember, she’d kept everyone that came into her life at arm’s length.

  Only once had I seen her emotional side. My tenth birthday party had been a large one, full of family and friends. After opening the gifts, Miriam had watched us at play for hours. A wistful look had come over her just before she’d left in a rush. My mother had insisted that Miriam hadn’t felt well, but I’d seen the tears in her eyes. So had Josh.

  She blinked rapidly before opening her eyes. She glanced around the room as if lost, until her gaze settled on me and her lips spread into a broad smile. “Ethan.”

  I smiled back. “Hello, Miriam.”

  “You’ve gotten so big.”

  Often when she remembered me, she thought I was still a teenager. After the first few times, I stopped reminding her that I was an adult. Drawing attention to her dementia only served to frustrate her. “Yes, I have.”

  “You were such a serious boy,” she chided me.

  I nodded, meeting her gaze and waiting for her to continue.

  “You used to follow your brother around like a big guardian angel. He’d get into so much trouble, and there you were right behind him, always puffing out your chest and letting the other children know they’d have to answer to you if they touched him.” She laughed, enjoying the memory. “It was so sweet.” She shook her head, brushing her hair against her pillow. “You probably should’ve let him take a whoopin’, at least once.”

  I laughed. “Probably.”

  Her smile quickly faded as her expression grew pensive. “I should’ve done better.”

  I didn’t know what she was referring to, but that hardly mattered. I told her what she wanted to hear. “You did the best you could.”

  “It’s awful.”

  Everybody dies.

  “Not being yourself,” she continued, her expression souring. “Always hiding. Always lying.”

  “Lying about what?” I asked dutifully.

  For a long moment, she stared at the white wall on the other side of the room as she wrestled with something. As I watched a streak of tears roll down her cheek, I felt a stab of regret for her. I pulled a tissue from the box next to her bed and gently dabbed at the tears.

  “I was afraid to touch him,” she whispered.

  “Touch who?” I asked gently, uncertain if she was lost in a memory or a delusion.

  “My baby,” she said, choking on the words. “I didn’t have a choice. It’s a curse.”

  “What curse?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.

  She didn’t seem to hear me. After a long, searching moment, she turned her head to me, a sudden desperate movement. The corners of her lips bent in a miserable frown. Tears welled in her eyes. “I’m sorry I did this to you. I never figured out how to take it with me. I tried, Ethan. I held on as long as I could, but it’s on you now. I’m sorry.”

  I edged closer to her until I was on the edge of my seat. “Held on to what?”

  “I don’t think I have much time left. There’s something I need to tell you. I—”

  “Knock knock,” a woman said at the door, walking in with a tray of food. “Time to eat, Miriam.”

  “Give us a few minutes,” I insisted.

  Reading my intensity, she mouthed an apology and left, closing the door behind her.

  “Miriam,” I said, gently encouraging my grandmother to continue. When she turned to look at me, she appeared puzzled. Her eyes searched my face, confused. When she glanced about the room, her gaze fixed on the fresh flowers, then returned to me with a weak smile.

  “Was my grandson here?”

  Intuitively, I reached out for her hand. She jerked it away, scowling at me.

  “Who are you?” she demanded, her gaze shifting to my attire. “You don’t work here. Nurse,” she called over her shoulder, as if afraid to let me out of her sight. When no one appeared, she turned to the door to shout, “Nurse!”

  The nurse rushed into the room, assessing the situation quickly.

  “There’s someone in my room!” Miriam cried.

  “I’ll leave,” I announced, rising.

  The nurse tried to calm my grandmother. “It’s okay, Miriam. It’s your grandson.” The effort only agitated her further.

  “That’s not my grandson. My grandson is a child.”

  I slipped past the nurse and into the hall. I was nearly to the front door of the building when she caught up with me. “Mr. Charleston, can I speak
to you in my office for a moment?”

  I sighed, then turned toward her. “Of course.”

  “I’m sorry about that,” she said, after closing the door for privacy.

  “No need to apologize. You’re not responsible for her condition.”

  “Dementia is always tough on the people closest to the patient. It can be very challenging to cope with.”

  “It is not challenging,” I said stiffly. “It just is.”

  She hesitated, taken aback by my frankness. It wasn’t easy seeing my grandmother—always a strong woman—become something so fragile, but I wasn’t about to share my thoughts with her nurse.

  “As you know,” she said carefully, “Miriam has a no resuscitation order on file.”

  “Yes.”

  “At times like this, we think it’s important to reassess such requests. Obviously she is not in a mental state to properly evaluate the consequences of such an order. As her legal guardian, if you have any reason at all to believe that Miriam would have changed her mind, you can vacate the order. It would just take your signature.”

  “No,” I said, perhaps more harshly than intended. Artificially extending her life would only prolong her suffering. “Unless you can reverse the effects of her dementia, the order stands.”

  “There is no cure,” she said. “Even if we could, her body is still shutting—”

  “You’ve done a great job taking care of her. Is there anything else?”

  After a moment to take in the bluntness of my response, she shook her head. “No. I guess that’s it.”

  “Thank you,” I said, then left.

  CHAPTER 2

  I stopped for dinner at one of my favorite restaurants, but the best steak in Chicago couldn’t ease the sourness in my stomach, or the weight on my thoughts. Helplessly watching someone else’s suffering was never easy. Our emotional distance didn’t spare me in the slightest.