Date: 2021-02-05 03:23:51+00:00
Keywords: Fiction; Fantasy; Historical; Paranormal
Description: Rehabilitation...or a wicked breeding program? Kelia's about to learn there's worse fates than being a Sightless. Following the discovery of her relationship with the infamous Sea Shadow Drew Knight, Sea Slayer Kelia Starling is condemned to a life of servitude, washing dishes and delivering water room to room. She is a Sightless, and she's trying to redeem herself. At least, that's what she needs the Society to believe. Unbeknownst to them, however, Kelia is still investigating why the Society murdered her father, while Drew Knight has secretly visited her to call on the favor Kelia owes him

Call of Darkness

Book 2 in The Vampire Pirate Saga

Isadora Brown

Rebecca Hamilton

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Did You Like Call of Darkness?

Newsletter Information

About the Author

1

“Do the fangs get in the way when Sea Shadows kiss?” Madeline whispered over the kitchen sink.

“What makes you think Sea Shadows kiss?” Myra asked in the same whisper, leaning in close as if to prevent herself from being overheard.

Kelia Starling rolled her eyes and clutched the plate she was drying, deciding whether or not it was worth breaking. She already detested washing and drying The Society’s dishes, but having to listen to her fellow Sightless seemed like an additional punishment.

She had avoided engaging with the two girls, Madeline and Myra, but then again, she’d avoided making acquaintances with anyone since becoming a Sightless two months ago. All she knew was the pair twittered like birds and were hopeless, pathetic romantics who looked for a silver lining in every situation. To them, a Slayer romantically or sexually involved with a Shadow was star-crossed romance at its finest.

It had been two months since Kelia had been sentenced to serve her penance here—two months since she had been beaten, tortured, and had only escaped death thanks to the Sea Shadow she had been forced to partner with.

And two months since she had last seen him…

She shook her head, bristling at the mere thought of Drew Knight. She didn’t like to admit it, but he kept the nightmares away.

Kelia had been restricted to isolation for the first four weeks of being a Sightless and hadn’t seen a single person save for a nurse who would come in and change her bandages. She thought isolation would break her—perhaps send her into a fit of delirium—but she found she welcomed the darkness, the quiet. It gave her time to learn more about herself, to tease out possible motives for why The Society would want to murder her father and claim it was a suicide.

The only thing she dreaded about the darkness was how much it reminded her of Drew.

“Kelia,” Madeline whispered next to Kelia, her hands in the sink surrounded by bubbly warm water.

Kelia furrowed her brow, then glanced up at the two girls going on about kissing Sea Shadows. She wasn’t used to anyone choosing to talk to her if they could help it, not when her reputation was so tarnished. Usually, not even the Sightless wanted anything to do with her.

So, why did these girls want to talk to her? It couldn’t be anything good. She’d been washing and drying dishes with them for the past month, and neither had reached out to her before. Perhaps now they were trying to trap her into saying something.

“Can we ask you a question?” Myra asked.

Pressing her lips together, Kelia slowly set the plate on the counter. It was as dry as it was going to get.

After wiping her hands on her off-white apron, she nodded. She still wasn’t sure what this was about, and she almost hated herself for her immediate reaction of suspicion and bitterness instead of giving them the benefit of the doubt.

“You had a relationship with Drew Knight, the Sea Shadow,” Madeline said. “Is that correct?”

As she spoke, her hands shook. That wasn’t new, though. Madeline’s hands always shook, even when it wasn’t cold. Kelia had heard one of the reasons she was integrated as a Sightless was because of this flaw. Apparently, she couldn’t fire a weapon with any accuracy. Kelia didn’t know how Madeline acquired the disability—if it had been something she was born with or something that had happened to her—but she was being punished for it. The disabled were not reliable in the field, and, as such, The Society found use for them in servitude.

When Kelia had been a Slayer, she’d hardly noticed the Sightless. She’d known they were being stripped from their position as a Slayer because they’d broken some sort of rule, but she never found it in her to investigate what those rules were or if they deserved it in the first place. After she’d been punished and learned more of the numerous ways to betray The Society, she’d been disgusted—being disabled was not a crime.

Kelia could barely look at Madeline because of the guilt that coursed through her system. She shouldn’t have been so complacent. She should have asked questions. Should have realized that keeping her head down and staying quiet meant she blindly accepted The Society’s rules and condoned how they treated people.

However, just because she felt guilty for her lack of action didn’t mean she had to share information about her relationship with Drew Knight.

“Well?” Madeline pressed. “Did you?”

Kelia tensed. Truth be told, besides agreeing with Rycroft that she was having an affair with Drew, she never really came up with a detailed story of what happened. She also didn’t like talking about him because she never knew what to say. How to explain him. How to describe her feelings for him.

“Of course, she was,” Myra said. She swept her dark hair away from her golden eyes. “She got ten lashes because of it.” She sank her dark hands into the sudsy water once more as Madeline plucked another plate from the stack to her left. “No one would suffer that way if it wasn’t worth it.”

Kelia almost cracked a smile. It was worth it, but not in the way the two Sightless meant.

Ensuring Drew Knight’s freedom. Seeing the expression on Rycroft’s face when he realized Knight was not where she said he would be. It was the first and only time she had seen her former handler lose his temper. He slapped her twice that night, then sentenced her to ten public lashes on her back. This did not include the extra lashes he’d bestowed upon her when she was in the dungeons afterward.

She should be dead, but she wasn’t because of Drew Knight. Because he had saved her.

So, yes, it was worth it.

“I want to hear it from her,” Madeline said, narrowing her eyes at Kelia. “Let the girl speak for herself.”

“And say what?” Kelia asked.

She had not meant to sound annoyed with them, but nothing about her situation was their business.

Then again, her brain pointed out, you remained reserved as well. They could have been waiting for you to talk to them.

“Never mind,” Madeline said quickly, averting her gaze and rinsing the soap off the dish.

Kelia shouldn’t have been so harsh. Pursing her lips, she picked up a plate and started drying it. The girls probably just wanted to hear a story. Something exciting or romantic. Something to save them from the monotony and misery of this place.

But was that Kelia’s job?

“That’s not true,” Madeline whispered to her partner. Kelia hadn’t heard what Myra had said, and she planned to ignore it until Madeline returned her attention to Kelia and asked, “Did you really kiss Drew Knight? Did you—did you do more with him?”

Kelia let out a breath through her nose, studying Madeline.

“Is that not what everyone is saying?” she asked, lifting her eyebrows. It wasn’t much of an answer, but it was something.

“They’re saying you and Drew Knight were lovers,” Myra said with wide eyes and a voice that was both secretive and eager for more information.

Expectant looks settled on Kelia.

Only then did Kelia realize most Sightless had never truly experienced life. They were condemned because of something they could not help or because of a prejudice The Society had against them.

There was more to it than just plain chores. There had to be. What were the Sightless really being used for?

“It’s okay if you don’t wish to share,” Myra said suddenly, breaking Kelia out of her train of thought. “It probably wasn’t right for us to ask you anyway.”

“I…uh…” Kelia tried to think of the best way to respond without divulging too much about Drew Knight. “I don’t like talking about it much. Especially after being here. I’m trying to do better. Forgive me.”

It was a decent performance—one Kelia was quite proud of. She didn’t like lying to them, but she had come a long way from the naive girl who believed lying was wrong. She would lie to protect herself. Would lie to protect her goal. And would lie to protect Drew Knight, even if it was difficult for her to admit that last part to herself.

The Society absolutely detested her because of him. They could have finally put Drew Knight down, but she prevented that from happening. She let him escape.

He was free to terrorize the innocent population of Port George, if he was even still here.

“Do you regret it?” Myra asked, those bright golden eyes curious.

The dishes were forgotten, soaking in the tub of now-dirty water.

“Regret what?” Kelia asked, puzzled. “Letting him go?”

“Being with him.” Myra’s voice was now a shred of a whisper.

Kelia could not blame her when there were times she was certain the walls here had ears.

“Where you are now, where you’ve come from. We’ve all heard about you. Heard about what you were capable of. You gave up everything for Drew Knight.” Her eyebrows knit together. “Do you regret making that sacrifice? Giving up being a top Slayer, just to be with Drew Knight?”

Madeline was surprisingly silent. Kelia could tell she was trying to control her shaking hands, and Myra finally had to step in and take the plate from her so she wouldn’t accidentally shatter it.

“I wouldn’t say I was a top Slayer,” Kelia said in a no-nonsense tone. She wasn’t trying to be humble; she genuinely felt that, while she had a decent reputation, she was not worth the title of “Top Slayer.”

“Of course you are,” Myra said as though it was obvious. “Were, I mean. You were a top Slayer. Before everything happened. You captured an Infant by yourself without so much as a scratch on you. Infants are beasts even worse than Shadows. They barely have any control over themselves. All they want is blood. And you brought one back. Alive.”

Kelia clenched her hands into fists, hoping it would conceal any facial inflection that might give her away. They were speaking of Christopher Beckett. He was an Infant rescued by Drew Knight from The Society. But he was not a beast. That was just another lie The Society told their Slayers to control them, to infuse fear in their hearts so killing Infants would become akin to killing something inanimate, like a rock or a tree.

Infants were thought to be bloodthirsty and filled with lust. Fulfilling their basic needs were all they were capable of. They had no logic, no capacity to think or to feel. They just knew what they wanted and went after it. Usually, they ripped their victims to shreds in the process. At least, that was what the Slayers were taught.

Kelia wanted to tell these girls The Society had filled their heads with lies. She wanted to tell them that they were wrong about so many things, including Infants and especially Drew Knight.

But she couldn’t.

She was supposed to be rehabilitating herself—atoning for her crimes against The Society. And if she looked these girls in the eye and told them she had no regrets, word could get back to Abigail or Rycroft, and then she would lose all the privileges she had only recently acquired.

“I am here because of my actions,” she said slowly, still trying to figure out how to properly phrase everything. “And I will remain until I redeem myself. I acted foolishly and selfishly, and I am lucky to be getting a second chance.”

“I heard Drew Knight is still here,” Madeline burst out, as though she could no longer control herself. Her hands were shaking even more now. “And people are saying the only reason he would stay here, when everyone is searching for him, is because he wants you back.”

Kelia clenched her jaw. She hadn’t heard this rumor before. She didn’t want to hear about it, to get her hopes up.

But some small part inside of her smiled, and, if she wasn’t careful, that part could get her into more trouble.

2

As much as Kelia wanted to hear more on the notorious Sea Shadow, she had other things she needed to do. When she finished drying the dishes and putting them away, she washed her hands and left the kitchens.

The hallways were usually clear at this point, which meant Kelia was able to walk back to the Sightless dormitories without running into anyone she knew from before.

Before she was a Sightless.

Before she was deemed a traitor.

Before she realized The Society had lied to her for her entire life and killed her father.

“Come with me.” Drew’s velvet voice still haunted her dreams. Every night, she wondered if she had made a grave mistake by refusing his offer. “Leave this place.”

But she could not.

The only reason she’d partnered with Drew in the first place—the reason she had risked everything and betrayed her fellow Sea Slayers—was because she needed to prove her father had not taken his own life. When she learned The Society had been the culprit of his early demise, she was intent on proving it.

More than that, she needed to know why.

What had happened that provoked The Society into murdering her father?

A grandfather clock chimed downstairs. One long toll, then two, all the way until it reached eight o’clock.

One hour until curfew.

Her entire body ached from her day spent doing chores. She rolled her shoulders back, hoping to ease the tension that had built in her muscles. The gesture did nothing for her, and she stifled a yawn.

She wished she could take a warm bath before she crawled into bed, but the Sightless had little time to themselves before curfew was mandated. There was no time for luxuries such as baths.

Kelia opened the door to her room, then headed straight for her wardrobe. Heaving a sigh of relief at finally being able to get out of the constricting garment, she slid out of her dress and into a shift before pulling out her meticulous braid and brushing out the waves.

By this time each night, the Sightless had already finished the rounds of the bedrooms. They poured fresh water into washbasins and left clean washcloths beside them. This allowed Slayers to clean up after a long day of training. As a Sightless, she still received water in her room but only to wash herself after her chores.

Kelia walked over to her boudoir and saw that the basin was still empty. She let out an annoyed grunt and, instead, crawled into bed. Her father’s cracked leather-bound journal was still tucked safely inside the copy of The White Whale she kept underneath her pillow, and she pulled it out to read once again.

There was a lot of damning information about The Society scrawled in her father’s hard-to-decipher writing. Each time she opened the worn leather and flipped through the delicate sheets of parchment, her heart ached. It was as though he was so close to her even through death.

She tried to read a few pages every night. Even though she had read it multiple times, she knew there was something missing, something significant that would explain what her father had done to get himself killed.

The journal began at Kelia’s birth. Entries were sporadic at that point—up until last year, anyway. Something had happened the previous year, something that was not recorded. Either her father was ashamed of what it was and refrained from writing about it—to keep his secret and his truth to himself as though he knew the journal would fall into someone’s hands after he died—or he hadn’t been ashamed, but careful for the same reason.

He was careful, she reminded herself. The night he died, he was ready to tell me—

She wished her father had trusted her enough to tell her what had been going on. She glanced out the window, the black night blanketing the sky. The subtle scent of salt air wafted through her open window and filled her lungs.

She shifted on her bed, trying to get comfortable. It had been exactly eight weeks since her lashing. Even now, her body was unusually sore after her chores. It didn’t help that her mind kept her awake just as much as her body did.

It was difficult for her to sleep at night. It was more than just Drew Knight. She remained empty, a void. She needed answers, and she needed them now.

Kelia had had a feeling that her father was going to tell her everything the night he died, when he requested her presence at the tavern that night, but he never got the chance. The Society had silenced him.

A week later, the journal mysteriously fell into her hands, but most passages were as vague as her father had been when he was alive. A few had been ripped out, and she had yet to find them.

It was frustrating, but Kelia understood. What if the journal had fallen into Rycroft’s hands, or someone on the Council? At least her father had possessed the foresight to code his passages in ways not easily decipherable. Whether he ripped his own passages out, she did not know. She did hope to find them eventually, but that wasn’t a pressing concern currently.

It also meant Kelia had to work even harder to figure out what happened to him and why. She also was starting to wonder why the East India Company created The Society and why The Society created Sea Shadows. It was a thick web she found herself tangled up in.

Her door opened. It was another Sightless, Daniella Thompson. She had a jug of what could only be water in her hand. Without a word, she refilled the basin with fresh water.

This should have been done before the one-hour warning. Everyone was settling into slumber, and curfew was looming. But saying as much might provoke the girl, so Kelia remained quiet and tried to ignore her.

“Thinking about that Shadow again, Starling?”

Kelia snapped her head up. There were lots of rumors surrounding Daniella, all contradictory. Kelia did not particularly care one way or the other, so she had not paid much attention. However, for some inexplicable reason, Daniella had set her sights on Kelia as someone to insult, badger, and provoke whenever she got the chance.

Kelia tried to turn the other cheek with the girl. Her mother had died when she was young, and her father had no idea what to do with her. Because of his wealth, he had ties to the East India Company. They’d suggested he send her to The Society to be refined.

Unfortunately, the plan had not worked. She acted up, requiring discipline at least once a week until Rycroft himself made the decision to renege her acceptance. Her father made a hefty donation, and she stayed in The Society as a Sightless. There were times Daniella got herself into trouble, even as a Sightless, but she seemed to be happier now than she had been as a Slayer.

Kelia only knew this because Daniella had a reputation that every Slayer seemed to be familiar with. Daniella was the example professors and trainers used against the Sightless. For Daniella to look down on Kelia revealed just how far she’d fallen down The Society’s ladder, but perhaps the girl just needed to hurt Kelia to feel better about herself.

Sightless aren’t just those who whore themselves out to Shadows, they would say. A little discipline can go a long way.

Now that Kelia was not as ignorant as she had been, she greatly admired Daniella’s acts of rebellion, even if they were as small as wearing black lace on her grey dress or leaving her red hair down when it should be pulled from her face.

On the other hand, Daniella was also making Kelia’s life a living hell.

It didn’t matter, though. Kelia was here to gain information. To solve her father’s murder. Not to figure out why Daniella had a problem with her.

Daniella continued to stare at Kelia from her position adjacent to the boudoir, almost as though she was waiting for a response. When she didn’t get one, she shifted and began to pour water onto the bedroom floor. Kelia shot to her feet.

“What the hell, Daniella?”

Daniella changed directions, then strode toward Kelia until she bumped shoulders with her. Hissing, Kelia hunched forward. Even though her back was nearly healed, pressure on her body still caused her muscles to twinge with pain.

And Daniella knew that.

“You really should watch where you step,” Daniella said, her lips curling into a smirk. Her curly red hair frizzed around her, reminding Kelia of a lion’s mane.

Kelia let the words roll off her shoulders. It was difficult, but she had learned the hard way that emotions and reactions could be a weakness.

“Perhaps you need to get your head out of your fantasies about Drew Knight and focus on what’s happening right in front of you, hmm?” Daniella continued. “Although, I must inquire, is he really as good as everyone says he is? Sexually, I mean. You would not be the only one to know, would you? I’m sure there are just as many others with intimate knowledge of him as there are hairs on your head.”

Kelia nearly growled. She knew Drew Knight had a reputation. He was experienced. If what she read about him was true, he was nearly a hundred years old, despite not looking much older than herself. Which meant he had plenty of years of women under his belt. Kelia knew that. But Kelia did not consider him a romantic interest. He was everything she’d been taught to hate. Even though she was now aware that she’d been taught wrong, it was hard to undo years of brainwashing.

Until she thought about everything he had done for her.

“You are nothing more than a pathetic Shade, and that is all you’ll ever be,” Daniella said with a sneer. “Whore yourself out to Shadows, just like the other Shades do. I’m surprised The Society even allows you to still be here. You don’t deserve their mercy.”

Kelia met Daniella’s look head-on. In that moment, she was not the demure girl The Society wanted her to be. Instead, she was strong, defiant. A Slayer.

After months of hiding who she truly was, she finally felt like herself.

Instead of talking, Kelia simply held the stare. There was nothing for her to say. People believed she and Drew Knight were lovers. Let them believe what they would. She could not change that. But she could control how she responded. Her response to the retorts and hurtful words would show her true character.

Daniella’s smirk slid off her face when she realized she was not going to get a reaction. Looking away, she huffed a dramatic sigh before exiting the room. Kelia let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She was ready to read more, ready to take one step closer to solving her father’s death.

After she crawled back into bed, she could not help but think about Drew Knight and Daniella's blunt statements. She gripped the edges of the worn journal to keep from throwing it across the room. Instead, she took a breath and reminded herself why she was here. Solving the mystery that surrounded her father's death was the only thing that mattered to her right now.

3

Kelia woke to find a pristine envelope, stamped with Rycroft’s crimson seal, on her floor. After opening it, she pulled out the parchment and quickly skimmed the neat scrawl.

It was a summons: Rycroft required her presence in his office after their morning meal.

Would his wrath at her not showing up to this meeting be worth it? Ashton Rycroft was looking for any reason to punish Kelia, to keep her as a Sightless for as long as he could. She had gotten this far in the program, even going so far as to earn the trust of her handler Abigail Stanford, to the point she was released from isolation and given a chore.

Rycroft, of course, made it clear he did not believe Kelia was fully rehabilitated, and she could not blame him for the sentiment. Her feelings regarding everything—The Society, Sea Shadows, even Drew Knight—had not changed. She knew too much for that to happen. He had not been able to beat that knowledge out of her.

The truth prevailed, no matter what she had to endure.

Putting it to the side, she did her morning stretches. She hoped to break her fast before her impending meeting with Rycroft, but she did not think delaying the inevitable would be a wise decision. There was a washroom just down the hall, and she made her way there to relieve herself before heading back to her room. Once back, she picked out a plain grey dress, perfectly starched, not a wrinkle in sight. It was the uniform of the Sightless.

After brushing out her golden tresses, she fashioned a braid, ensuring each strand was in place. Freckles adorned her cheeks and nose, subtle but noticeable, uncovered by makeup. She was as plain as she could possibly be, appearing even younger than the eighteen years old she was.

She was grateful her father had taken the time to raise her to respect the value of her appearance. It wasn’t about looking beautiful; it was about showing respect for oneself and the people around her.

Hopefully, Rycroft would notice her efforts, her professionalism. She would leave him with no reason to question her loyalty to The Society and to rehabilitation, regardless of what he said or did.

The Society thought making people Sightless was a punishment—taking away individuality, taking away color, taking away anything that might help them stand out. However, Kelia preferred it this way. It was easier to blend in, easier to hear secret conversations when no one saw her as a person anymore. She was underestimated in every sense of the word, deemed broken and useless. A waste of breath, of space, of life.

Rycroft was looked upon as a man who was both firm in conviction and merciful for allowing Kelia to live, even after it came out that she’d had an illicit relationship with Drew Knight and helped him escape the clutches of The Society. Her public lashing had been warranted, though it was all based on a lie. She and Drew had a relationship, but it was barely friendly, let alone sexual. However, the lie was easy to tell and easy to believe. Drew Knight did have a reputation, after all.

And Rycroft saw women as emotional, daft, and easy to manipulate. As such, Kelia claiming to have a sexual relationship with one of the most vicious and beautiful Sea Shadows around was not so difficult to believe. Nobody even questioned it.

Despite all of this, however, she could not connect the pieces of why The Society killed her father, why they wanted to kill her, and what they were hiding. She knew there were things she had yet to uncover.

She emerged from her room with a rumbling stomach and a stiff back. Each time she was required to meet with Rycroft, her back was especially tense, as though it remembered what it had to endure at his hand. If Drew Knight had not taken care of her, there was a good chance she would have either bled out from the lashes or caught a deadly infection and died.

Rycroft probably would have preferred her death, but he had not made any more attempts on her life.

At least, none that she knew of.

Rycroft had a small office in the Sightless corridors, which was isolated from the main portion of the fortress. There were two classrooms, and each Sightless was allotted an hour of physical exercise outside each day. If they were not receiving strict lessons in their rehabilitation program, or out in the square for that designated hour, they were only allowed to be in three other places: their rooms, the library, or their assigned work area.

Kelia stopped just outside Rycroft’s office, looking in through the large glass window on his door. From here, she could see everything inside, including the top of his head as he stared at a piece of paper on his desk.

Until now.

Kelia’s presence had inspired him to make more and more visits to the Sightless wing of the fortress to check on her, to see if she really was conforming to The Society’s rules. Kelia made sure she went out of her way to show just how much she had changed. It was all an act, of course, but she needed to ensure he believed it.

Today would be another chance to show him. When she opened the office door and stepped inside, she hunched her shoulders forward and kept her eyes on the floor. She needed to look confident in her rehabilitation but still demure, even though she wanted nothing more than to treat him as if he were not a handler who should be both feared and respected, but as someone she had bested.

Kelia quieted her pride as she took her seat. Though she had been practicing her control, listening to Drew Knight’s advice about what a weakness her blunt emotions could be, she still felt the pull, still felt how easy it would be to open her mouth and make a snide remark. It would make hers feel good for a moment, but it would ruin everything she had been working toward. Any glory she obtained in the moment would mean nothing when she could have everything she wanted later, if she exercised patience.

She glanced around the small room, musing over the oddity of this office, far less decorated than his other one. Trinkets did not adorn his wall or his desk; trophies he had been given or accumulated over his tenure as a handler for The Society were nowhere to be seen. If anything, this office was an afterthought. Of course, it was kept pristine. The Sightless assigned to the task made sure to do their job thoroughly and consistently to ensure Rycroft wouldn’t have reason to complain.

“Ms. Starling,” Rycroft said, standing and sliding his thin-rimmed spectacles up his round nose. Even though he was not tall, he still commanded attention. He had presence. She had to give him that. “Glad to see you looking…well.”

I am nothing more than a chameleon, she thought.

“I am well,” she murmured, briefly glancing at him. “Thank you.”

Rycroft’s lips slowly curled into a triumphant grin. “I see you are finally coming to your senses, Ms. Starling. You are finally realizing your actions with Drew Knight were nothing short of sinful, and you needed to be punished. You understand this, do you not?”

Kelia understood, but she did not agree. However, Rycroft didn’t need to know this. Not when he already had his suspicions. Not when he already looked for any reason to punish her further and more cruelly than he already had.

Her back would never be the same again. His scars would mar her flesh for the rest of her life, like a brand, a tattoo that could not be erased. A constant reminder of her betrayal of The Society and what she endured when she was found out. She would never marry now.

“Yes,” Kelia murmured.

Rycroft’s office chair squeaked as he took his seat.

“Have a seat, Ms. Starling. I’m glad to hear that,” he said. “I’m glad to see you are excelling here. I was not sure you would survive your wounds, but it would seem you rise like the Phoenix. I wonder how many lives you possess.”

Kelia sat, clasping her hands in her lap.

“You might be a perfect candidate for a new project we are working on here in The Society,” he continued, thrumming his fingers on the surface of his desk. “Would you be interested in participating?”

The old Kelia would have questioned what this project was and how she was expected to integrate into it. But this Kelia was meek, quiet, and did what everyone told her to do without speaking out of turn, so she nodded.

“I would be honored for the opportunity to assist The Society in any way,” she managed to say without any hint of her true feelings.

Rycroft nodded, grinning. “I am very glad to hear that, Ms. Starling. You can go now.”

Kelia stood, trying to hide her surprise at the abrupt end to this meeting, and slowly walked to the door, waiting to hear him call out to her, to add one more thing. When he did not, it felt as though her chest was gripped by a nervous hand, squeezing and releasing. Still no call, no bid to stay. No further explanation of the program he was referring to.

She forced herself to open the door and slip outside. It was hard not to look back, to ensure he really had nothing more for her, but it was necessary that she keep her gaze focused in front of her.

When she got to her room, she all but slammed the door shut. She did not have time to catch her breath before someone spoke.

“Well, well, well,” a silkily slurred voice said. “Look what we have here.” A brilliant flash of white in the shape of a deadly smile pierced the shadows. “How are you, Slayer?”

4

Kelia froze, her heart pounding against her ribs, demanding to break free from its prison. After ensuring her door was securely locked, she turned to see if the voice she’d heard just now was not a dream but actually Drew Knight. She didn’t know why her heart thudded so hard, as though she was afraid of something.

Drew would never harm her, so it wasn’t that. Perhaps fear of being caught? Fear of The Society?

How the tides had turned…

And there he was, standing before her in all his beautiful glory. Her breath vanished from her lungs. Her hands got clammy with moisture. Her throat went dry. In that moment, even her heart seemed to stop beating, as though she was one of the Shadows she used to hunt so well.

He was just as gorgeous as he had been the last time she laid eyes upon him, which was almost a tragedy unto itself.

She missed him. These past two months, she’d actually missed him, and it was a burden she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying until she saw him and was crushed with the weight of that unexpected knowledge.

Drew didn’t look like the beast everyone claimed he was. If it wasn’t for his pale skin that seemed to glow in the moonlight, he could easily pass as a gentleman due to his fitted attire that seemed to mold to his body like a second, though looser, set of skin.

“What are you doing here?” Kelia forced herself to say, immediately hating that it came out shakily.

She was not supposed to show weakness, especially not in front of him. He was not supposed to know that even after all this time apart, he still had the ability to affect her.

“Is that how you speak to old acquaintances?” he asked, daring to take a step toward her.

Kelia glanced at the window behind him. She tugged her bottom lip between her teeth, afraid someone might see him in her room even though it was dark and her curtains were drawn. But she refused to let herself take a step back, to let him see what he did to her so easily.

“What are you doing here?” she asked again. This time, her voice was soft, though she couldn’t look at him even if she wanted to. There was too much between them. “You were supposed to get away. You weren’t supposed to come back.”

“I needed to see you.” His voice was solemn, all playfulness gone. Even his eyes, typically bright with arrogance and mischief, were darker than usual. “Your back. Is it all right?”

Kelia swallowed. Somehow, this conversation had turned decidedly intimate, and she could feel her back cry out with longing, cry out because it wanted his fingers on her skin once more.

“Healing,” she told him, making sure to stress it was still something happening in the present.

That she had not recovered as quickly as she’d hoped.

He nodded once, then reached inside his long, dark overcoat and pulled out the balm he had used on her before.

Kelia’s mouth dropped open when she saw it. This was unexpected. Drew Knight had been gone for months, and now he was here, in her bedroom, alone with her, with the intention of rubbing balm into her back the way he had before. Like that would make any sort of difference?

Her back had ugly lines that ran up and down. She was almost grateful she couldn’t see them easily, that she had to crane her neck to try to catch sight of the screaming red scars.

Even though Drew had seen her bare back, Kelia was hesitant to be that vulnerable with him again. Before, it had not been a choice. She had been on her stomach, the blood seeping out of her wounds as she wasted away in that cell belowground. Pulling down her shift and exposing herself to him now would be a choice rather than something she was forced to do if she wanted to live.

“May I just ensure everything is healing as it should?” he asked, his dark gaze pooling into hers. She would not say he was begging, but if Drew Knight ever came close to such a thing, this would probably be it.

Kelia swallowed. She should say no. Anyone could walk in on them. The handlers had keys, making the locks almost pointless aside from the privacy they afforded from the other Sightless. Drew Knight was risking a lot just to be here, to the point Kelia wanted to scream that she was here because of her sacrifice for him. She was here because she wanted him free. His presence in her room was almost a slap in her face, arrogance spilling out of him like blood spilled out of his victims.

“You only wish to check on me?” she asked. She didn’t bother to hide the suspicion from her voice. It just seemed odd that, after two months of silence, he was suddenly back and concerned. It was not her business, but she was curious to know what had happened to him during their time apart.

He looked well. He looked…fed.

“I am here because I wanted to see you,” he said again. “I had to see you.”

His voice was adamant, as though he needed her to believe him. But why? Drew Knight could do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. It shouldn’t matter what she thought.

“Here I am,” she said. She didn’t know what else to say.

“Yes,” he murmured. He took a step toward her, then held up the balm. “May I distribute this accordingly?” A beat, and then, “Please?”

Kelia’s heart seized at the word, and she already knew she would give her permission. She hated that word when it came out of that mouth because she was powerless to resist.

“I don’t need it—”

“I see you’re still stubborn,” he said, his lips turning up. The smile seemed genuine. Pleased. Perhaps even content. As though he liked being in Kelia’s presence, regardless of the risk.

Kelia opened her mouth to respond, but changed her mind. Slowly, she padded over to her changing divider and untied the cloth string that kept the front of her dress up. The shift fell to her waist, leaving her entire upper torso exposed.

“You have to turn around,” she said, refusing to step out from the divider until she was certain Drew had done as she asked. Once he had, she’d hurry to her bed and lie down without him seeing any part of her that was typically hidden away until marriage.

Except her back, of course.

She peeked around the divider until he listened, a sheepish grin on his face, and then she stepped out. Her breath had completely vanished. Being in a room with Drew Knight, half of her body exposed, was not something she ever thought she would have to endure again. And yet, here they were.

Her breasts were out, the unexpected coldness pinching at her nipples. She needed to get on the bed before he got anxious and turned around. She wasn’t ready yet. Even though she didn’t think Drew would break her trust, she dashed to the bed. The cold inspired her quick movements, and she was not able to relax until her stomach was buried on her sheets and her breasts were pressed flat, away from accidental gazes.

“All right,” she called quietly, her voice cracking. She didn’t know if it was because she was uncomfortable or because she didn’t know what to expect. Either way, she felt more vulnerable than the last time. More exposed.

Why was this any different from when she was lying in her cell, her dress ripped to shreds thanks to the leather whip Rycroft had used on her? At that time, she was halfway delusional, and she couldn’t have cared less if Drew Knight stumbled upon her weak, naked body.

Now, it was different. She’d chosen to remove her clothing, to allow herself to be vulnerable when she was well and cognizant. She shouldn’t do this. It wasn’t right. He would be touching an intimate part of her body with his bare hands. Yes, it was to apply balm, but she didn’t really need that balm.

And yet…

And yet, she found herself looking forward to his touch. Craving it, even.

Though Drew was quiet, his footsteps sounded like thunder. Her heart beat in time with each step, and she moved her hands underneath her pillow to bring them closer to her body.

He reached the side of the bed and knelt. After taking the lid off of the balm, he scooped a generous amount of it on his long fingers. Kelia held her breath, waiting for his touch. She watched him as best as she could as he studied her bare back. Her heartbeat echoed through her, pounding against her chest.

And then, he touched her back. Her entire body did something peculiar—it tensed and melted at the same time. She didn’t think such a thing was possible.

“You’re healing better than I expected,” he murmured, his voice filling the room. There was an edge to the tone, however. As though he was angry about something. “You’re still scabbing. Your skin is peeling. How does it feel?”

Kelia swallowed. She hadn’t expected him to speak, to be honest, but she found herself getting lost in the sound of his voice.

“I’m surviving.”

“That is not an answer,” he replied.

“What would you like me to tell you?” she asked, trying to ignore his nimble fingers dancing across her back the way they might dance across ivory piano keys. “I am nowhere closer to finding out why my father is dead. I am trapped doing dishes every single night with silly girls who want to know if you are a good kisser. I cannot train. I have no idea where my sword is. I cannot do anything except read my father’s journal. Sometimes, those entries are so cryptic I worry he was hiding more than I thought he could. That he’s not the person I thought he was.”

Drew was silent, focusing on her back. Kelia sucked in a breath, trying to calm herself. This was probably the last thing he wanted to hear—a girl’s mundane troubles. He was a powerful Sea Shadow. Girls and journals were probably not at the forefront of his mind.

“What did you tell them?” he asked, his silky voice taking her by surprise.

Her body reacted with goosebumps, and she hoped he didn’t notice. “What do you mean?” she asked. “I wouldn’t tell them about my father.”

“Not about him,” he said, and she could detect a hint of playfulness. “About me. About what sort of kisser I am.”

Kelia shot him a look, and he threw his head back, barking out a laugh. His fingers stopped moving on her back, but he did not remove his hands from her skin. She was completely transfixed by him, by the sound of his laughter, by the way his smile lit up the entirety of his face. She should have been worried someone might overhear male laughter in a female dormitory, but she was simply unable to take her eyes off him, let alone command him to leave.

“I’m certain you’ve been getting those questions a lot,” he continued once he had settled down. “Regarding your alleged relationship about me.”

“I try not to answer them,” she murmured. She closed her eyes as he resumed rubbing the balm into her back. “I never know what to say.”

“Perhaps it would be best if you acknowledged that I seduced you? That I captivated you with my wicked, supernatural abilities? They would believe that.”

“It would be a lie,” Kelia said.

“And our sexual relationship is not?” he asked. There was a small smirk on his face, but his tense posture made even the smile seem serious.

“It is easy to explain,” she said. “No one questions it.”

“Yes, but you wouldn’t—”

“What happened has already happened, Drew,” she said. “We cannot go back and change it. Don’t let it trouble you. I’m surprised something as innocuous as my back—”

“Kelia, dammit, you are important to me, and what you’ve done for me will not be forgotten,” he said, his voice sharp. He pulled his hands away, then turned to allow her the time to ease her shift back up so she was decent.

She turned on her side. She was nearly completely covered, save for the sleeve of her right arm, which she held against her.

He faced her again, then knelt beside her. Tension radiated off his body.

“Kelia, I need to call in the favor you owe me,” he said. It almost sounded as though there was a hint of regret in his voice. “I wouldn’t ask this of you, I wouldn’t put you at risk, unless it was absolutely necessary.”

She stiffened, upset he was not here just to check on her, although it would not make sense for him to come simply for that. Of course he’d come because he wanted something.

“And what do you require of me?” she asked.

“I need you to find information on the location of one Wendy Parsons,” Drew said.

“Okay…” Kelia said, drawing the word out. “Can you tell me more about her? Where she was born? A birth date, perhaps? Why she is important?”

“Unfortunately, I cannot give you more than a name, but I do believe she is somewhere within The Society. Somewhere here.”

“You managed to find me,” Kelia pointed out. “Certainly, you can find someone else.”

“You are different. She’s…hidden.” He reached out, then slowly tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his eyes nearly as black as the deepest part of the sea. “I have absolute faith you’ll be able to find her.”

“And if I don’t?” Kelia managed to get out.

He was entirely too close to her. She needed to move away, but her body refused to budge.

A slow grin slid across his face. “I know where to find you.”

5

Drew exited out Kelia’s window, then sprung onto the roof of The Society’s impenetrable fortress. He crouched there, taking a moment to ensure he was alone and would not be caught.

Seeing Kelia Starling after two months caught Drew by surprise. She looked different. Older. More beautiful, if such a thing were even possible. He hadn’t realized how much he missed her until he saw her. He had been too focused on tracking down Wendy Parsons.

But now, everything rushed back to him. The way her hair always escaped the confines of the braid and she desperately attempted to push the stray strands away from her face. The way her lips pressed into a thin, annoyed line or the way his eyes stubbornly refused to look away from her at times.

Seeing her after their separation, he forgot everything he had endured the past two months. The raid on his ship, the information he acquired—he almost forgot he was here for a reason. Not to see her again, but to call in the favor he had made her promise to him when they first agreed to work together.

He’d risked a lot to see Kelia again, to call in this favor, but Wendy was too important to him. And Kelia was worth the risk.

After their ordeal two months ago, Drew was still adamant about his refusal to leave Port George, even though he was the most wanted criminal on the island. Pirates were passed up in favor of tracking down the infamous Shadow. Drew was not surprised to learn a hefty sum was placed on his head, and a decent one on information leading to his capture.

Death was out of the question because slaying a Shadow caused them to turn into ash and blow into the sea. It could not be proven which Shadow died and at whose hand unless there were actual witness accounts.

Drew Knight was wanted alive.

At least, that was what the parchment plastered all over town with his likeness sketched on it said.

When Kelia told him he should not have come, he had paused. These were not the words he wanted to hear when he saw her again. And yet, he could feel how much she meant them. Not because she didn’t want to see him, but because she had worked so hard to free him, to warn him of his impending capture, and she didn’t want him being reckless with the opportunity she had given him. Especially considering what she had to endure because of it.

That girl needed to get a hold of her emotions.

Either that, or he was becoming an expert at reading her.

Kelia was right. She had sacrificed so much for him to still have his freedom; getting caught would make that sacrifice worthless.

When he deemed it safe, he strolled across the roof, his hands shoved into his pockets, until he reached the end and stepped off, falling the height of the fortress and landing on his feet with ease.

Nearly an hour later, he neared the west docks. If he’d wanted to—if he’d chosen to use his unnatural speed and run—he could have been there much faster. It might have been his best option, considering Port George’s nightlife was still spilled out in the streets, the debauchery they participated in leaving a peculiar stench in their wake.

Drew used to long for such places as the Port George nightlife. Everyone was always so drunk that no one recognized him as a Sea Shadow, no one noticed he was rather pale for a pirate, and no one noticed his unnaturally long fangs. Everyone saw him as a thing of beauty, and as such, he took full advantage of that.

Now, however, he had decades’ worth of experience under his belt, and that had made him less ignorant. His priorities had changed from acquiring food and pleasure to surviving as long as he could on his own.

The night was particularly cold. His breath came out like smoke from a pipe. Somehow, Emma did not show that she was cold, even though she had to be. She was smaller than him, wearing less clothing. Her flesh was covered with goose pimples, yet she did not say a word regarding the chill.

Drew shook his head, a small smile on his face. All the women he knew and respected seemed to be stubborn. His smile faded when he thought of the only woman he would rather never see again. She was not as stubborn as she was cruel.

There was a reason he no longer served the Queen of Sea Shadows. There was a reason he broke ties with her. It was a risky move, to be sure, but he didn’t care. He’d wanted his freedom—as much freedom as he could possibly obtain from her. She didn’t like to give away her possessions so easily.

Drew continued through the jungle to his ship docked on the other side of the island. For a while, these docks had been watched for his return, but, over time, they gave up. Still, coming back here was risky for him, even if Emma had assured him the coast was clear. Quite literally.

The trek made him realize this was the same journey Kelia made each time she came to visit him with news. His lips curled up when he remembered her pushing the rowboat he left on the isolated beach for her to use down the sand, hopping in, and rowing over to his docked ship. It built more muscles in her upper body than any of that training she took part in as a Slayer.

She always had this frustrated wrinkle on the bridge of her nose when she climbed the ladder and pulled herself over the edge of the ship. She was so fierce, even in the face of a notorious Sea Shadow. He admired her spunk.

He missed it, even.

A distant caw made him turn his head up. There were no birds in the sky, especially not this late at night. He clenched his teeth, his mind blocking any more thoughts of Kelia from slipping through. He had to be on his guard right now. There were things just as deadly as Shadows hiding in the dark, and those beasts roamed the seas.

He took the boat to his ship and climbed aboard. Emma made her way to the helm as if she were the captain, her dark hair tied up, causing the angles of her face to appear harsh under the moonlight. Her form-fitting dress, with its high neck and cinched waist, accentuated her striking figure. There was no denying it: Emma was brimming with a confidence that not even some of his crew of Sea Shadows possessed.

“It took you longer than expected,” she pointed out, though there was no accusation or judgment in her tone.

“Yes, well,” he replied, offering her nothing more than that.

She pushed off the ship’s wheel to meet him portside, but before she could say anything, he waved his hand toward the deck.

“Did you locate anything while you cleaned up the wreckage?” he asked. He was intent on changing the subject, knowing Emma would undoubtedly ask questions about Kelia that he didn’t want to answer just yet.

Her painted red lips curled up, as though she knew exactly what he was doing. Which, she probably did. She was a witch, after all. She had the ability to see things no one could see and feel things no one could feel. She was the reason Kelia survived the brutal lashings Rycroft gave her. Her balm, the concoction she had given Drew to ensure Kelia’s fever broke, had saved the Slayer’s life.

Kelia didn’t know this, of course. She knew Emma made everything, but she didn’t know it was laced with magic, with healing properties not found in man-made medicine.

Drew would be forever grateful to Emma for saving Kelia’s life. And not just to ensure Kelia would be well-enough to track down Wendy Parsons and fulfill her end of the bargain.

There was more to it than that.

He cared about Kelia. More than he probably should.

“The men were all dead before I got to them, so there was no one to question,” Emma responded. She took a step off the helm as Drew made his way over, his fingers itching to grip the rungs once more. “However, I was able to spy what sort of cargo the ship was transporting to The Society.”

She eyed him carefully. He didn’t need to command her to explain; she would talk when she was ready.

“There was livestock on the ship,” she continued. “Cows, chickens, goats. Everything one might need for a farm.”

“Livestock?” Drew asked. He placed his index finger on the point of his chin and rubbed it.

She nodded. “All dead now,” she said with a disapproving shake of her head. “The sirens and the Shadows had a nice feast.”

“Why would The Society need livestock?” Drew asked. He turned his attention to the sea, as though the waves could communicate with him, tell him everything he needed to know. Besides the fact that a storm was coming, there was nothing else for him. “They have no grass. They have no need to slaughter the animals when they get their food from a butcher in town. Why do they need live animals?”

Emma shrugged. “That is the question, is it not?” she asked. She took gentle steps across the deck, interlocking her fingers and placing them on the swell of her small stomach. “And Kelia?” When Drew didn’t answer, she pushed. “How is Kelia?”

“She is as well as can be expected, given her current circumstances,” he said. He tried not to allow his feelings to seep into his words.

“And the balm?” she asked. “Surely you knew I would find out someone slipped into my private quarters without an invitation and took my possessions.”

“Considering your quarters are on my ship, you must realize that, technically, they belong to me,” he said quickly, but then sighed. “I should have asked, I know. But…”

“But this involves Kelia, and the rules are different with her,” Emma finished even though Drew had no intention of saying that. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Tell me, how is she? You can at least tell me that much.”

Drew wanted to growl at her, to slide his fangs out and roar just to get her to run off, but he knew she wouldn’t be intimidated by him in the slightest. He had known Emma too long for her to be worried he would harm one hair on her head, not when she had been so close to Wendy. She was one of the few people who could get away with questioning him, with demanding answers. As long as she did not do it in front of his crew, he didn’t particularly mind. Though the ability to frighten her would have come in handy right now as a means to evade her questioning.

Instead, Drew shrugged casually, as though his entire visitation with Kelia was practically meaningless.

“She’s doing the best she can with where she is,” he offered. He turned to the shoreline of Port George. His crew would be out, exploring the town, ravaging women, looking for food in the form of consenting women willing to let them feed, drinking to their heart’s content even if the alcohol had no effect on their body.

“Yes, so you said,” Emma said drolly. “But what does that mean?”

“She’s a Sightless now,” Drew said. “She has wretched scars marring her back that she will never heal from. Whomever she chooses to become intimate with will have to accept her as is. Will have to accept the fact that…” He let his voice trail off, unwilling to finish the sentence. Unwilling to say out loud that it was his fault. He already knew he was responsible for the life she currently had to endure.

“She’s tainted goods,” Emma finished.

“She’s not tainted,” Drew snapped, whirling to face her fully. “She has endured. She has survived. And she will continue to because that is all she knows. And I do not…I do not know what to do about it.” He shoved frustrated fingers through his dark hair, then stomped to the railing. Resting his forearms there, he bent over, trying to inhale the scent of the sea, hoping it would help calm him.

“Drew,” Emma said tentatively, though she remained where she stood. “Kelia is tainted now. Her thoughts are not pure. Her knowledge is not one-sided. And her body represents the choices she made. I understand you feel guilty because you think it is your fault, but I can assure you—”

“I do not want your assurance,” he said, each word sharp and pointed. “I want to talk about something else, something I can actually do something about.”

Emma opened her mouth, but Drew shot her a warning look. Most evenings, he put up with Emma’s opinion, but he was in no mood to do so now.

“The wreckage,” he snapped. “Tell me more.”

She paused for a long moment, and Drew thought she was going to fight him on this. However, she let out a dismissive breath before starting to pace the length of the deck.

“The Society was transporting livestock from Port Royal to the fortress,” Emma said. “There weren’t many men aboard, only three, and they died almost instantly in the attack. I managed to acquire a ledger with notes. It was not exactly a journal, but it had dates and phrases I can’t decipher. Besides Wendy’s name, of course.”

“The ledger had her name in it?” He glanced over his shoulder, arching an eyebrow. He knew it did; Emma would not lie and would not bring him news she had not already verified.

She wrinkled her nose, as if surprised he would question her. “Plain as day,” she said with a nod, briskly pacing the length of the dock—the first indication she was, in fact, cold. She held her hands behind her back. “Dated years ago, back to the time when I escaped. They must have caught her right after she’d rescued me.” She winced. “Wendy was there because of me. If she had not tried to rescue me—”

“When word was sent to me about your capture, I asked Wendy for help,” Drew cut in. There was a tightness in his heart, but he pushed on, unwilling to think of it any longer. “I was a fool, Emma. After I severed my bond, I acted selfishly. Perhaps if I had not been so indulgent, you would have been by my side this entire time. I should have known the Queen would track you, would figure out that you were the one who severed my tie to her. If I had not been so selfish, so fearful, you would never have fallen into their laps. I asked Wendy for help because I knew I could not do it alone. I feared I would end up back with the Queen. And I promised I would never let that happen—but what I risked to keep myself free of her…that I’ll never forgive myself for.”

“This is why you’re so insistent on Kelia’s safety,” Emma said. “Or perhaps I should say, one of the reasons.”

“No one falls behind,” he said, then brushed past her.

He still remembered the moment when Emma returned to him after escaping, when he realized Wendy was not with her. She had fallen behind. They had gotten Emma back only to lose Wendy. And when he had gone after Wendy, using Emma’s exact location, they were already gone. Disappeared as if the program had never existed in the first place. Sure, Emma had tried to track down the new location with her magic, but they’d put blocks in place that hadn’t been there when Wendy had used her magic to track Emma.

It was why he’d been keen on meeting Kelia, on using her, on acquiring that favor. He had no other way to find the program. He was sure, as a Slayer, she could find out. He hadn’t planned on her becoming Sightless. He wanted her out of there. But she refused to leave, and there was no sense putting her situation to waste. Someone there would know about Wendy. He was sure of it.

He just needed to get her out of there before she got to close. After what happened to Emma, what was happening to Wendy…

He bit his lip so hard, blood beaded on the surface. He didn’t want to think about this anymore, but he didn’t have a choice.

“Tell me more about the ledger. Did it say anything about what happened to Wendy? Where she’s being held now?”

Emma shook her head. “Whereas the food and weapons had a location next to them,” she said, “all that was next to her name was a picture of a cauldron, a star, and a key.”

This caught Drew’s ear. “Excuse me?” he asked. “A cauldron? A star?”

“A cauldron,” she repeated. “And a key, Drew. And a star. Come to my room and watch me mix your lover’s balm, then you will see exactly what I am referring to. Look to the sky at night if you do not understand what a star looks like.”

“No need to be droll, Emma,” he said.

“No need to be daft,” she retorted.

“A cauldron,” he muttered, ignoring her. He studied the deck of his ship as he contemplated. “A key. What the hell does that mean?”

“Perhaps it’s a reference to what she is?” Emma said. “To what she can do? Perhaps it refers to Christopher, considering he is a recent Shadow who might have been the key to killing Kelia in the first place?”

He gave her a sideways glance at the mention of the Sea Shadow currently down in the galleys, refusing food and bodily pleasure until he found his fiancée once more. It was almost romantic, if Drew believed in that nonsense—which he absolutely did not—but it was rather frustrating because it was all the boy could talk about. All he cared about. Sure, he was an Infant, recently turned and still naively human in his thoughts and feelings, but Drew had hoped to stress that Shadows had nothing but time now. Wendy was too valuable for the ones who held her to simply kill her.

“You know, Christopher never mentioned who turned him,” he said, his finger tapping the point of his chin. “Do you think it was the East India Company? Or the Queen?”

“I do not know,” she admitted. “Does it matter?”

Drew couldn’t be sure one way or another. Sometimes things seemed irrelevant, until they weren’t anymore.

“Maybe it does matter.”

“Then ask him,” she said, shrugging.

Drew wasn’t sure that was the answer either. If Christopher wanted to talk about it, he would have done so.

“I am just making guesses, Drew,” she continued. “Perhaps something will fall into place, especially now that we have enlisted Kelia for help.” She stopped suddenly. “Wait… Kelia is assisting us in tracking her down, isn’t she?”

“She has agreed to it, yes.”

Her body relaxed as she continued pacing. “I’m certain Wendy’s part of the program, Drew. I just cannot track where in the fortress it is. The magic used is complex.”

“I do not know what she will be able to find,” he murmured. “I just gave her a name. I told her nothing else. I have nothing else to give her. I’ve been to where you told me the program was, but no one was there. The place was completely deserted.”

“They must have moved it once I escaped. Rest assured, however, my contact is working on obtaining the location by any means necessary,” Emma said. “Could they have moved the program on-site? That would be arrogant. Any Slayer could stumble onto it. Then again, The Society is nothing if not arrogant.”

“Your contact?”

“A girl I met in the program,” Emma said cryptically.

Drew knew not to press. She’d never revealed what had happened to her, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Especially if it might be happening to his sister now. He’d rather not think about it. His focus needed to be on how to get her back.

He wished he didn’t need Kelia’s help. He had no desire to put her at risk once more.

“What about Kelia?” she asked. “You didn’t tell her about her father’s program, even though it might help her find Wendy?”

“Absolutely not,” he said. “She has already gone through enough. I refuse to deliver that blow.”

“She’s going to find out,” Emma said, her tone concerned. “And she will be angry that you kept this from her.”

Drew clenched his teeth together. He knew damn well she spoke the truth, but it was best Kelia not know too much. The less, the better.

A harsh wind rocked against the side of his ship, lifting his hair. A storm was coming. A dangerous one that would no doubt leave him changed forever.

6

In all of her years with The Society, Kelia had never been to the library. She preferred the solitude of her room, at least when Jennifer hadn’t been present. Only because Jennifer loved to gossip and tended to distract her from her coursework.

However, Drew had merely given her a name, and this name meant nothing to her. If Wendy was a Sea Shadow, Kelia had never heard of her. If she was a commoner, that would make it even more difficult to track her down. A name was lost unless there was more that went with it. All that Drew had said was she was important to him.

What did that even mean? What did it mean to be important to a Sea Shadow?

Kelia shook her head as she stepped into the library, trying not to think too much on the Shadow’s choice of diction.

The library was much larger than she remembered from her youth, with stacks upon stacks of books from all over the world. Fictional, factual, books with atlases, with stories, with history embedded in the parchment. There were books about training, fighting, about Sea Shadows and sirens, Bibles, even ones on etiquette.

Everything and anything Kelia could possibly want to learn about was in here. All she had to do was know where to look.

There were two tables, probably set aside for students who researched information they needed for an assignment they were tasked with. Kelia had always gotten her information through interviews, but she imagined books would make great resources, too. Currently, the tables were empty, not even a sheet of parchment or a quill resting on the surface.

Kelia dropped her own research materials on one end of the desk, farthest away from the doors so she would likely have the least interaction with anybody on the off-chance someone came in. The materials made a loud thud, and Kelia jumped at the noise, surprised at how it echoed through the silent space.

She turned and headed toward the information desk, hoping to at least get a starting point on Wendy Parsons. When she realized who was behind the desk, however, she stopped short.

Daniella.

Biting back an audible groan, she took in a deep breath.

It was just her luck that Daniella was assigned to the library and filling water basins each evening. The Society probably assumed giving her a task as mundane as putting books away and pouring water for others would break her free spirit. If Daniella was smart, she would use her location to her advantage and take time to research whatever it was that kept her going.

Kelia squared her shoulders, inching her way over to the desk. This was a library. Technically speaking, Daniella was on-duty. She would not deny Kelia her right to assistance—would not attempt to start a battle with her now.

Would she?

Daniella only looked up from the book she was reading when Kelia stopped directly in front of her. Her brown eyes flashed in recognition, and her entire face contorted into one filled with suspicion and defense even though Kelia had yet to open her mouth. It was as though Daniella assumed the worst even though Kelia was never the one to start anything between them.

Daniella sneered, moving her arms to cover whatever piece of literature she was reading. “Surprised to see you here.”

Kelia snorted and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She didn’t particularly care about what Daniella was reading—probably some gothic romance novel filled with lust and forbidden love—and instead made sure she looked Daniella in the eyes. She didn’t want to give the girl more ammunition to fire at her.

“Yes, well,” Kelia said with an uneasy shrug of her shoulder. “Here I am.”

“I’m sorry,” Daniella said, “but we don’t have any books that teach mortals how to please Shadows, though I’m sure there is something in the council chambers that can give you the information you are looking for. They do like to keep certain books away from their mindless congregation. Shades have been known to write books every now and then, even if they are nothing more than trash.”

Kelia clenched her jaw. She wanted to defend herself, to point out that she was most definitely not a Shade, to tell Daniella that if she didn’t stop…

As much as she would like to teach Daniella a lesson, she knew she couldn’t. It would ruin everything she had worked so hard for; she refused to let Daniella take that away from her.

“If you like, I can show you books on how to handle your family burning in Hell for the sins they have committed,” Daniella continued. “Or how to be a proper lady even after your body has been tarnished by a supernatural beast.”

“My father did not—” Kelia gritted her teeth, stopping herself.

She couldn’t say what she genuinely believed, not even in front of Daniella. Not when Daniella could go to Abigail and tell her everything. Not when accepting her father’s sin was one of the first steps of Kelia being allowed out of isolation. If they knew Kelia lied, she would be condemned once more. After that, earning The Society’s trust would be impossible.

“What?” Daniella urged. There was a ringing in her voice that bordered on a screech. “What is it you want to say, Starling? Your father did not what?”

She knew. Of course Daniella knew how to goad her. She wanted Kelia to fail.

Kelia refused to flinch. She might not be able to say all she wanted to say to the girl, but she refused to back down, refused to allow this girl to get her riled up. She hoped Daniella understood, hoped Daniella was intelligent enough to read her rigid body, her white knuckles. If only they could train together. If they could participate in physical combat, Kelia could finally make Daniella regret tormenting her the minute she became a Sightless.

“You better be careful,” Daniella said in a low voice. “I think you know what I mean when I say the walls have ears. We wouldn’t want you to get thrown back in isolation, or worse. I’m sure your back is disgusting enough as it is. Not even Salem’s Balm would help heal it.”

Kelia narrowed her eyes at the mention of balm. Drew Knight applied balm Emma had made. Was it Salem’s Balm? Did it even matter, as long as it worked? And what would Daniella know about any of that, anyway?

“So, get on with it already,” Daniella said, her voice snapping Kelia out of her thoughts. “Why are you even here? What do you want?”

“I’m looking for information on someone,” Kelia said. “Could you point me in the direction of the Caribbean ledgers?”

“The ledgers?” Daniella asked, glaring. “As in, you want to sift through names upon names of everyone who was born or died in the Caribbean? You must be mad. That, or you’re looking for your next victim.”

Kelia was certain her palms would have permanent crescent indentations due to how hard she had been pressing her nails into the fleshy skin to keep from saying something she might later regret.

“Where are they?” Kelia asked again, her voice forceful.

“Did I touch a nerve, Shade?” Daniella’s lips curled up as she stood; she kept one hand over the book she had been reading and used her other to point down a corridor filled with stacks of thick, leather-bound books. “What you’re looking for is just there. Dates should be on the covers. Is there anything else?”

“Not that I can think of,” Kelia said. “But if I think of anything else, I’ll be sure not to ask you.”

Daniella took her seat once more. “Thank the Keepers.”

Kelia headed in the pointed direction without turning around to see if Daniella was doing anything untoward. Instead, she focused on putting one foot in front of the other, the name Wendy Parsons repeating over and over in her head.

Kelia stopped in front of the stacks, feeling overwhelmed. She looked at the top shelf, then to the bottom. There were probably fifty ledgers dating back the last two hundred years. She didn’t know where to start, considering Drew only gave her a name and nothing more.

Why are you doing this for him, anyway?

She shook her head, chastising this bargain she had entered in the first place.

You need to keep your head down if you want to find any more information about your father.

“It’s been two months, and I haven’t found anything new,” she muttered before pulling out a ledger dated 1697, the very year she was born. “I need a break from thinking about my father. Perhaps the space will give me some clarity.”

“Are you talking to yourself, Shade?” Daniella called from her position at the desk. “You really are mental, aren’t you?”

Kelia didn’t know how long she sat in the library poring over the ledgers. Eventually, she had to take a few minutes to walk the aisles of fiction books for a respite from the small text. She had gone through at least sixteen different books filled with hundreds upon hundreds of names. Found a multitude of John Smiths, Marie Thompsons, and even multiple Wendys and Parsons.

But she had not found a single Wendy Parsons in all the pages.

This was going to take much longer than she’d expected.

When Kelia resumed her study, she took a deep breath. Her stomach growled. She’d completely forgotten to grab something to eat for her midday dinner. The sunlight streamed into an open window, and Kelia widened her eyes, trying to keep herself awake. The sooner she found out who Wendy Parsons was and where she was being kept, the sooner she could go back to researching her father.

“Who, exactly, are you looking for, Shade?” Daniella asked, peering over Kelia’s shoulder.

Kelia jumped; she hadn’t heard Daniella approach.

Surprisingly enough, there was no judgment or cruelty in her tone. If anything, she sounded curious. Kelia wanted to tell her it was none of her business, to finally give Daniella a smart retort, to have the last word. To shut her out completely and make her feel inadequate since, despite what she thought, she did not actually know everything.

But she stopped herself.

If Daniella was familiar with the library, she might be able to help. And as much as it pained Kelia to ask for Daniella’s help, if it aided Drew in finding this woman and allowed her to get back to figuring out why her father died, it was worth the small bruise to her ego.

Kelia cleared her throat. “Have you heard of Wendy Parsons?”

Something flickered in Daniella’s eyes, but it immediately went out. But Kelia saw it. Recognition. She had heard the name before.

However, Daniella only snorted. “Another Shade you know?” she asked dismissively. “Why would I know anyone you know? I may not be as prim and proper as my family wants me to be, but I don’t hang around with garbage like you and your fellow Shades.”

Without another word, she stomped off.

But Kelia already knew she was on the right track. Daniella knew something she didn’t want to tell Kelia. And whatever it was, Kelia had every intention of discovering the secret for herself.

7

The next morning, Kelia had an appointment with the medics as she worked on strengthening her back. Each session the worst pain she’d ever experienced, save for the actual lashings. There had been plenty of times when she wanted to give up and walk out. It would have been easier that way, but as much as she dreaded going again today, if she skipped, she would never regain the strength she’d had before. Never be able to defend herself as well as she used to.

If she wanted to get strong, she would have to work for it.

After tugging her hair into a tight braid, she broke her fast with a good amount of meats and fruit, then washed her face and brushed her teeth before heading out of her room and down the winding staircase that led to the medic wing.

Movement outside one of the windows caught her attention. She stopped, staring out at the courtyard where one of the classes she used to attend as a Slayer was taking place. Her entire body seized up as she peered at the group. It was where she had received the initial ten lashes from Rycroft in the first place. Where he had shown her mercy but used her to make a crucial point—any type of relationship with the supernatural would not be tolerated.

Her body shuddered. One of her goals was to be able to walk by that square without reacting to it, without allowing it to control her. She hastened her pace, her fingers curling into fists as she all but ran until the window was gone and she was free from it once more.

She took a left, then let out a shaky breath. One last hallway, and she would be at her physical therapy. This hallway had portraits of previous handlers, all wrinkled men with glorious white wigs and expressions of seriousness on their pudgy faces. They all wore shades of blue, as though they wanted to differentiate themselves from the English soldiers in red.

She stopped at the last door on the left and pushed it open. The room it led to was the cleanest in the fortress thanks to the nurse in charge, Scully Masterson. She was a tall, no-nonsense woman with short red hair and stern blue eyes.

There were two rows of beds, sixteen total. Three were currently in use, while the rest were made, waiting for their next occupants.

Kelia walked down the middle, avoiding the injured patients. She felt them stare as she passed. She shouldn’t look at them for confirmation, but she did. Each staring patient watched her like she was a traitor, like it was her fault they were in the medical wing.

She hated to admit it, but she understood. They had gotten injured doing something while the Sightless stood by, complete opposites of everything the Slayers stood for. Everything the Slayers fought for.

But Kelia also saw the other side, and there did not seem to be a clear, definitive decision about who was right and who was wrong.

Scully’s desk was located at the entrance. It was meticulously organized, with quills and ink at the ready.

“Welcome back, Goldie,” Scully said, not even bothering to glance up. “I thought we scared you off after last time.”

Kelia allowed the insult to roll off her like water. She refused to take the bait, especially considering this was simply Scully’s personality and not something to take personally.

“Not quite,” Kelia murmured in return.

“I guess I’ll have to try harder then.” She lifted her gaze so her crisp, cold irises locked onto Kelia. “Bed four. The clothes are already out and waiting for you. Be quick about it. More and more of you are getting injured, and I don’t have the time of day to focus my attention on the Sightless when I have actual Slayers here.”

Kelia remained silent, biting the inside of her cheek. There were times she could read Scully and see through her cruelty, but there were other times she could not. Regardless, she knew she could not react. She couldn’t let her frustration and anger get the best of her.

She proceeded to the bed, then grabbed the grey shift specifically tailored for the exercises she would have to endure today. Folding the slip over her arm, she carried it with her as she stepped behind the dressing divider.

As she changed into the ugly but comfortable outfit, she couldn’t help but wonder what an eyesore she must look like while wearing it. The neck was high and buttoned just under her chin while the sleeves were long and wrapped around her wrists. There was no corset, no cinch at the waist. It hit her ankles, and there was a pair of plain black slippers to slide onto her feet.

After dressing, she hung her original outfit on the divider, ensuring the clothing was positioned in a way where they wouldn’t get wrinkled. She took a seat at the foot of the bed, running her hands over her braid to make sure it was still tight. When she finished, she placed her hands on her thighs, straightened her back, and waited.

At first, she had not known that this—the waiting—was an exercise unto itself. It forced her back muscles to lock into place, and it tested her mentally by requiring her patience. There was one time when Scully did not check on her for twenty minutes, and by the time she did, Kelia had barely kept angry tears of frustration from sliding down her face. She had wanted to lash out, but then they would win, and that was the last thing Kelia wanted.

When she realized it was an exercise, she started to challenge herself. She needed a way to keep calm if only to get through it. It was no surprise to her that everyone had written her off. No one believed she would ever become a Slayer again, which meant no one took her seriously. Which was fine with her. As long as she knew she could get through it, she would be okay.

She slid into a seat and reminded herself once more to act as if she was here because of her bad decisions, and now she was wasting valuable time and resources because she was selfish, foolish, and an emotional being who did not seem to have any logical bones in her body. It was a role she absolutely loathed to play because it highlighted everything she disagreed with The Society.

Today, she only had to wait five minutes before footsteps lumbered her way.

“Well, well,” Scully remarked snidely. From where Kelia sat, with her gaze downcast as it should be, she could see Scully’s black shoes, which meant the woman was directly in front of her, her hands probably placed on her hips, her fingers curled into fists. She would be heavily rouged, with dark circles of powder above her eyes, like the mask of a raccoon. “You walk like you know this place better than I do.”

“And why would you think that?” Kelia asked. She met Scully’s gaze without flinching.

Scully tilted her head at the response and shifted her weight so her heel clacked on the ground. “Many people tend to give up when things get too challenging,” she drawled. “It’s easier to give up than it is to push through and persevere. You walk as though you look forward to this meeting despite the inevitable pain.”

“Perhaps some give up with ease,” Kelia agreed. “But not me. It would do greater damage to my person to give up than to push through. The mental gains of strength are easily worth the physical toll it takes on my body.”

“Is that so?” Scully asked. “I suppose I should push you even harder then, to further your recovery.”

“If you feel you must,” Kelia said. She refused to let the nurse scare her off. It was a tactic used to keep the Sightless in line, to keep them in their current position rather than push them along and encourage their recovery.

She couldn’t be certain, but she could swear she saw Scully's jaw pop, as though she accepted the challenge. Kelia had not intentionally challenged her, but she could not deny the smug smirk that itched to break free. Not many stood up to Scully, whether it was passive aggressive or not, especially not a Sightless.

“All right,” Scully said, nodding once. “Get up and let’s go outside.”

“Outside?” Kelia could not keep the surprise from her voice if she’d tried.

Physical therapy never took place outside. It was almost like a punishment, being kept inside all the time. It was enough to drive anyone mad, including Kelia. However, she managed to keep herself sane with constant reminders about her reason for remaining within The Society in the first place.

“Is that a problem for you, Ms. Starling?” Scully asked. “I find that it’s a particularly nice day. A storm is coming on the horizon, but at least we can take advantage of the chill in the air. If you are afraid of the cold—”

“I’m not,” Kelia said quickly. She knew she had revealed how much she wanted to be outside, but she didn’t particularly care. Not when going out was on the line.

Scully smiled as though she knew what a tempting offer she had laid out. Kelia stood, then followed the nurse down the long aisle until they reached a door. Kelia kept her eyes peeled. She had never been down here before, hadn’t known there was an exit that led outside. She’d thought there was only one way out to the courtyard.

Clearly, she had been mistaken. Which meant there might be other entrances, and other exits, she didn’t know about. If only she had the freedom to explore the fortress the way she wanted to.

The sky was painted with black clouds that blocked the sun. Of course, Scully would call such weather nice; it matched her personality—dark and cold. Rain had yet to fall, but there was a chill in the air. Kelia wished she had grabbed her black overcoat, but she refused to complain about the cold to Scully.

The fresh air hit her like a wave to a ship, nearly knocking her off her feet. She sucked it down like she might have if she had been drowning. Breathing deeply, she savored the clean, fresh aroma of cold earth and sea-salted air, wanting to ensure she’d remember the feeling when she was forced back inside and not allowed back out.

She didn’t care that she couldn’t see the sun. Rain even would have been welcomed. This moment was worth any pain. Whatever exercises Scully had her do, she would do with the goal to exceed every possible expectation.

She wanted more of this. She needed to be outside as much as possible.

“I take it you recognize this place?” Scully asked, regarding her with amusement, as though taking Kelia to where she had been lashed in front of the entire Society was a joke.

“How could I forget?” Kelia muttered.

Eyes trained on the platform in front of her, her hearing was drowned out with what sounded like waves crashing into the sea. Time slowed down. She couldn’t help but remember what had happened to her. Her back was tense, as if it could feel the whip cracking open her skin the way it had months ago.

“Climb the steps to the platform,” Scully instructed, her voice sharp.

Kelia snapped her head toward the nurse. She blinked once. “What?”

“Do I need to repeat myself?” Scully asked, every word pointed and slow. “I am instructing you to climb the platform steps. You would certainly benefit from visiting the place you were punished, where you received your whippings. A reminder, as it were.”

Kelia clenched her teeth. She could not argue, even if she wanted to. And she did.

She would not show weakness. She would not give up. She would continue to grow and push harder until she was stronger than she had been, before being a Sightless, before Drew Knight. Because as much as she appreciated her friendships, her partnerships, she knew the only person who could save her was herself.

And she intended to do just that.

As she walked up those steps, she realized she was not afraid the way she had been when Rycroft had made her do this before. She took one step at a time. Her hand gripped the wooden rail. Her breathing turned shallow. But she would not give up.

When she reached the platform, it took the last ounce of her energy not to falter. She stayed standing, even as the crack of the whip echoed through her mind, even as her back burned with memories, even as she could swear she saw her own blood decorate the platform of the gallows. Determination keeping her upright, she stared out at the empty courtyard.

She had come a long way, but she had a greater distance yet to go.

Scully drew something out of her pocket. Without warning, Scully flicked her wrist, and the whip cracked the sky. Kelia could feel the air snap. She was ashamed to admit she let out a yelp.

Scully would not actually whip her, would she?

“You’re making great progress with your physical strength, Kelia, but your arrogant resistance to humility will be your downfall,” Scully said. “Do not fear the fear itself. It may be the only thing that will save you.” Another crack of the whip. Kelia could feel her back scream even though the whip did not touch her. “Now, kneel.”

Scully wanted her humbled enough to fear The Society. And as Kelia did her exercises with Scully whipping the space close to her, Kelia felt weak. Broken. Because tears were in her eyes and, try as she might, she could not stop them from falling.

How was she supposed to look deeper into her father's death and find out who this Wendy Parsons was if she could not even withstand Scully's torture?

8

As much as Kelia wanted to skip her morning classes after her strenuous physical therapy, she couldn’t. Just because she had exhausted herself physically didn’t mean she could take a break from her mental pursuits. She was determined to be as much of a Slayer as she could be, given the circumstances. She wanted to be strong, sharp, able to take care of herself, and most importantly, able to solve her father’s murder. To do this, she needed to assimilate.

The Sightless were still expected to be Slayers in everything but name. They were put into classes, assigned lessons, and made to take exams. Those who were physically capable were still allowed to train. It was necessary, just in case the Sightless were needed to help defend the fortress. The difference was, they were not allowed in the field and they were not trusted with certain information unless they completed their rehabilitation. And even then, their name and reputation were completely tainted at that point, so trust was usually not given, regardless.

Kelia huffed a sigh, taking her assigned seat by the window in the third row of the classroom. She was not typically bored during lessons; at least, she hadn’t been as a Slayer. But now that she had woken up from her ignorance, she could not help but feel as though she’d wasted her time being fed lies she knew weren’t true.

This professor was known for his utter disdain of Sea Shadows, though the class discussed dynamics regarding all supernatural beings, including Blood Beastss, sirens, and witches. Though The Society focused on Shadows because they were the immediate threat, it was imperative all Slayers were aware of the different supernatural beings: how to defend themselves, as well as how to demolish them.

Kelia was surprised she was allowed to take this class, that the Sightless were even given this information in the first place. However, she supposed it was because even the Sightless had to be prepared for the worst. The Sightless still belonged to The Society, had to fight to protect them. They might not be anything more than servants, but The Society had invested a lot of time in them and they didn’t plan to let that investment go to waste.

Kelia pulled out parchment and a quill to start taking notes. There were times when this class was interesting...and others where it was particularly dry. When Professor Tampa went on one of his off-topic rampages about Shadows, Kelia would stare out the window, trying not to get too distracted in case he called on her to answer a question.

The square seized her chest, but she forced herself to focus on what was happening in it rather than the place itself.

Training. Physical combat.

Her fingers itched, curling around the handle that wasn’t there, that hadn’t been there in a long time.

Her blade had been missing since the night she had been taken, the night Rycroft discovered her alliance with Drew Knight. It had been such an integral part of her that each time she was reminded she didn’t have it anymore, it was as though she had lost a limb or something else important to her person.

The training going on outside was just that—physical combat with weapons. Slayers moved with their weapons like they were dance partners, their motions graceful, their actions precise.

Kelia rested her chin in her palm, trying to focus back on class. Professor Tampa was still going on about the raw sexuality of Sea Shadows and how Slayers, especially the women, would need to be careful because Shadows could easily manipulate emotions. And since women were the more emotional of the sexes, they had to be vigilant. However, as a progressing Sightless who needed to appear to be on the road to rehabilitation, she had to agree with what he taught.

Turning back to the window, she thought about how much she missed the feel of the blade, how it fit perfectly in her left hand, how the blisters had smoothed down. She hated that she couldn’t keep in practice. It would be difficult to be as good as she once was without doing so. However, she knew she would not be allowed to do such a thing for a long time. Only Sightless who had nearly finished their program were allowed to train.

With Abigail.

Kelia didn’t know what Abigail did to be made a Sightless, and she wasn’t planning to ask. All Kelia knew was by following the rules and the guidelines of the program, Abigail had graduated from it eight months later.

“Ms. Starling?”

Kelia snapped her attention over to Professor Tampa. How many times had he said her name? It sounded like it had been more than a few.

“Are you daydreaming?” he asked, his voice filled with sarcasm. “Wishing to go back to the way things were? Before you gave into your lust and had a sexual relationship with Drew Knight?”

Kelia had to bite her bottom lip to keep from responding. The metallic tang of blood zapped her taste buds, as though to shock herself into acknowledging that people were going to judge her, ostracize her, and ridicule her because of what they thought they knew. They were going to shame her, embarrass her, make her feel like something she wasn’t.

“Sorry, sir,” she forced herself to say. She hoped it didn’t come out stilted.

Professor Tampa grumbled under his breath. “Can you answer the question, at least, or is that too much to hope for?”

Kelia tucked her chin to her chest. “Can you please repeat the question, sir? I seem to have missed it.”

There was groaning behind her, but Kelia paid them no mind. She did not particularly care what her fellow Sightless thought of her. Regardless, she didn’t like being the center of attention and hadn’t liked it even before she had fallen from grace.

“Since this is a class that discusses the wrongness of temptation,” Professor Tampa began, prowling over to Kelia, “I want you to tell the class what it felt like to give into that temptation.”

Kelia swallowed. On the one hand, she knew she should not have to answer such a personal question about her life. The Society had elected to keep her on as a Sightless, which meant that she had certain rights, even if most had been stripped away.

On the other hand, there was pressure on her to obey all requests made of her, whether she was being ordered to do something, answer a question, or any other favors that were requested of the Sightless.

If she wanted good marks, she would answer without question. If she wanted to maintain a shred of dignity, she would remind him and the class that her relationship with Drew Knight was nobody’s business.

Essentially, she needed to figure out what was more important to her: being a successful Sightless or keeping her pride intact at the expense of progressing in her rehabilitation program.

She sucked in a deep breath, managing to catch the professor’s eye. He looked at her like he deserved an explanation, as though he took her behavior personally. She didn’t quite understand his animosity toward her, but she knew that some took forbidden relationships—like ones between humans and Shadows—as a threat to themselves. She wasn’t entirely familiar with Professor Tampa, but if she had to guess, she would say that he fell into the latter category.

“Out of all humans clamoring to get to Drew Knight,” he continued, “why do you think he chose you? You are nothing more than a young girl with a little mind. What could you have to offer him? Besides the honey between your thighs.”

Kelia clenched her jaw. She wished she had the ability to prevent herself from blushing. Unfortunately, she did not. Sex was not something she knew much about, let alone could speak on.

“But even that is as common as the next option,” Tampa went on. “Ever since I found out about you and your relationship with him, I’ve wanted to know why you were special to him.”

To be honest, Kelia had no idea how to respond. Tampa was right, but only in his assessment of her compared to other women. Drew Knight had options that ranged from exotic to common. She had no idea what made her so special.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” she finally told him, making sure to look properly chastised

“Surely he told you something,” Tampa continued, giving her a furrowed brow of frustration and impatience. He placed his hand on the table and leaned in. “Drew Knight is known for his charm. Are you telling me he did not talk at all?”

“We did not have time for talking.”

Kelia shouldn’t have said that. She was reacting. Being petty. And speaking of Drew Knight, he would tell her that her emotions were getting the better of her. Although, he would probably laugh first.

However, the expression of utter horror on Tampa’s face made her snicker. She had to fake coughing to hide it. She wished she had the audacity to say more, to push further, but she knew it would only cause herself harm.

“When did your relationship turn sexual?” Tampa asked after he managed to get a hold of himself. “Was it immediate? Did he just look at you, and you immediately said yes? Did he tempt you? Take advantage of you?”

Kelia wanted to leave the classroom. And she wanted to hate Drew Knight once more for the position she was currently in, that she had to face on her own. But she could do neither.

“What Drew Knight and I had…” She let her voice trail off. “It is not something I can accurately describe with words. It is something, however, that I regret.” She nearly choked on the word regret, which did not make sense. Granted, she did not regret her partnership with Drew Knight and lying was part of the plan. Yet, she found it difficult to do so when it came to him. “And I am on the right path to reform my ways.”

She hated this. The pretending. The lies she had to recite as though they were truths. But she could not draw attention to herself.

Bigger dangers awaited her, and she could not waste her risks here.

9

It had already been a long day, and Kelia wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep as long as she could before she was forced to wake up and do it all over again.

However, she still had her chores to complete. But with an hour left until the Slayers finished supper in the dining hall, she couldn’t go to the galley and complete her assignment. She needed to pass time, but she feared if she tried to nap, she wouldn’t wake up again until the next day.

Library it was, then, to sift through more ledgers in search of Wendy Parsons. The task was boring and made her even sleepier, but it gave her something to do. Once she figured out where Wendy was, she could tell Drew and finally be done with him.

“Kelia.” Abigail’s voice pierced the silence that typically permeated the library. “What are you doing here so late?”

Kelia stared at her handler, her mind racing. She should have had a story prepared; the old Kelia would have covered her tracks three different ways. Lately, though, she seemed to prefer to live in the moment and think on her feet rather than plan.

She missed some of the qualities of the old Kelia.

“Research,” Kelia said when she could think of nothing else.

“Research,” Abigail repeated slowly, giving her a blank stare. “Do you think I am daft?”

“Why would you say that?” Kelia asked, trying to keep the defensiveness from her tone. She wished she could drop the three ledgers she’d collected on the table because they were starting to get heavy. “Professor Saber gave us an assignment regarding killing Blood Beasts. Since I’m not familiar with then, I wanted to look into them now, when the library was empty.”

Even her excuse fell flat.

“And you think you’ll find out about Blood Beastss in ledgers?” Abigail arched an eyebrow. “I need to speak with you in my office. Can you spare a few minutes?”

Kelia was in the library doing something she’d blatantly lied about. It was clear she was not researching a topic she had to write a paper on, not with ledgers in her hands. On top of that, Abigail could order her into her office if she wanted to. Instead, she was asking Kelia. The least Kelia could do was agree, even if there was the pretense that she didn’t really have a choice.

Kelia put the ledgers down, then headed over to Abigail. She had no idea what she wanted; she couldn’t get a read on the woman. Abigail was Rycroft’s success story. She was the example The Society used any time someone questioned the Sightless program. Abigail was the person Kelia needed to emulate if she wanted to be trusted again one day—maybe not to be a Slayer but definitely not a Sightless. Odds were against Kelia, but as long as she was able to fool them into thinking she was progressing so she could continue to learn as much as she could about her father, she didn’t mind remaining a Sightless.

Abigail motioned Kelia down the hallway to her office. As Kelia followed, she took in her surroundings, even though she had been in this office more than a few times. Old habits of self-preservation persisted.

Abigail closed the door, then walked around the desk to take her seat. Kelia slid into her own chair. Her back was stiff thanks to the physical therapy she had endured earlier that day.

“So,” Abigail said, interlocking her fingers and forcing a smile. “How have you been?”

Kelia blinked. She still wasn’t sure what this was about. She shifted in her seat, trying to come up with a satisfactory answer.

“I am well,” she said.

Abigail nodded. “Yes,” she agreed. “I’m hearing nothing but excellent things from your professors, and Nurse Masterson said your back functionality is improving quicker than anyone expected. It just goes to show that if you’re willing to put in time and effort, if you dedicate yourself to your cause, you will prosper.”

How was Kelia supposed to respond to that? Probably safer to remain silent…

“Professor Tampa said he caught you staring out the window today,” Abigail said. “It took him three times of calling your name before you responded.”

“I apologize,” Kelia said. “I miss training.”

She didn’t have to lie about that.

Abigail slowly leaned back in her chair. “I understand,” she said. “When I was…” She shut her eyes and shook her head. “I missed being able to come and go as I pleased. Being able to walk outside when I wanted, to go where I wanted without answering to anyone, without telling anyone.”

Kelia nodded, hoping Abigail would tip her hand more about what she was really thinking. Although the conversation, so far, was surprisingly pleasant, and Abigail had even shared something personal, Kelia wasn’t sure she could trust her. They weren’t friends. Abigail was her handler, and it was important she remember that.

“I called you in here to tell you how proud I am of the progress you’ve made,” Abigail said, sitting up and opening her eyes. She glanced down at the paperwork in front of her, then grabbed a quill and began to read her notes. “You’ve done your duty each night, drying dishes in a timely fashion. Not only that, you are good at the job. You seem to have completely turned yourself around, Ms. Starling. From the broken Shade first admitted to now, you are almost like an entirely new person.”

Kelia looked away when Abigail said the word Shade. She had never had a problem with it until others started using it to describe her. She was not even really a Shade; her relationship with Drew Knight was completely falsified to keep the true nature of their partnership secret.

“I have been making it a priority to assimilate into The Society,” she said. Her hands were pressed flat against her thighs, and she rubbed them on her skirt.

“Well, we acknowledge your effort, and I want to personally let you know that it’s appreciated,” Abigail said.

By her tone, Kelia believed the compliment was sincere. She doubted Rycroft felt the same, though.

“I want you to realize you will get rewarded for the strides you make. That’s why Scully Masterson took you outside today. It is why Tampa did not mark you for your retort this afternoon.”

Kelia ducked her head. Not because she was ashamed, but because she could not help the amusement she felt at the thought of it. The utter scandal on his face had absolutely been worth it.

“You heard about that?” Kelia asked, risking a glance up.

“I hear about everything.” Though Abigail’s tone was ominous, there was a slight smile on her face. “Although, if I were to give you my unbiased opinion, I would like to remark that it is none of his business. Your relationship with Drew Knight, while potentially dangerous and idiotic, is no one’s business but yours and Knight’s. Tampa may be a professor here, but he had no right to ask you about your personal life.”

“I appreciate that,” Kelia murmured. “Thank you.”

“Listen,” Abigail said, clapping her hands together and placing them on the surface of her desk. “I want to upgrade your daily chore. I think you’ve done an excellent job drying dishes every night, but I’ve decided to grant you a little bit of freedom. Would you like to deliver the water each evening?”

It took a moment for Abigail’s words to sink in. However, when they did, Kelia nodded enthusiastically.

“Yes,” she said quickly. “Yes, please.”

“Anything to get out of doing the dishes, aye?” Abigail said with a laugh.

Actually, Kelia had a plan running through her head. She would be in indirect contact with Slayers. That was exactly what she needed.

“Thank you,” Kelia said, standing. She realized she was assuming she was dismissed, and then plopped back down in the chair. “I apologize, was there anything else?”

Abigail laughed out loud, shaking her head. “That is all, Ms. Starling,” she said. “Keep up the good work. You’ve made wonderful progress. Please do not regress.”

“I won’t,” Kelia said firmly. She stood, then headed for the door, her mind racing.

It wasn’t much, but now she would at least be able to contact Jennifer. Might even be able to talk to her.

First, though, she needed to figure out what to say.

10

The next morning, after another bowl of tasteless porridge for breakfast, Kelia decided to risk capture and look for information on Wendy Parsons in the forbidden council chambers.

She had received the idea from Daniella, whether the girl realized it or not, the last time Daniella had done her best to both insult her and make her feel insipid the last time they interacted. She still hadn’t found any new information on Wendy, and she didn’t want Drew to show up without her offering something to him. She hated to admit it, but his approval was something she desired more than she should.

The council chambers were restricted to anyone not personally invited by a member, and Kelia’s reputation would inhibit her from ever receiving such an invitation. However, she knew the Council wasn’t in the building today, so she took the opportunity.

Kelia stopped by the kitchen and grabbed a jug of water in case anyone saw her and questioned her presence. They probably would not believe her, but at the very least, she could feign a reason to be there by pretending to fill up basins with water.

Her heart beat against her chest. Each footstep she took was tightly restrained. She wanted to get there quickly, but if anyone saw her running to a section of the fortress not typically occupied by Slayers or Sightless, she would draw suspicion.

“You belong here,” she kept whispering, reminding herself she couldn’t look worried or nervous, which would be another way to induce suspicion. “You belong here.”

The hallway was long and silent. Kelia stepped with great care, the jug heavy in her hands.

As she reached the burgundy doors of the council chambers without anyone stopping her, her hands trembled with nerves. If she was caught, a lashing would be a mercy. Was holding up her end of the bargain really worth it?

If it meant finding out what happened to her father, then yes, it was.

Kelia took a deep breath, then reached for the golden doorknob. Surprisingly, the door had been left unlocked. Perhaps they didn’t think anyone would dare to break in their chambers. Only someone who was stark-raving mad would attempt such a thing.

The chambers were empty. Kelia’s heartbeat echoed through her ears. In the middle of the room rested a long table with throne-like chairs, three on each side and one at the head. There was a dresser on one side, and in the corner was a tall but narrow case filled with books.

Kelia squared her shoulders. She needed to act like she was supposed to be here, like she had every right to be here. Keeping her eyes trained forward, she set the pitcher of water on the table and made her way across the room.

When she reached the single bookcase, she took a breath and let her fingers trail over the book covers. A History of Sea Shadows. Spells, Charms, & Curses. Sirens: Demons of the Sea.

Her eyes widened. A book on spells? On sirens? Was this confirmation of what she originally thought was mythology? There had been rumors, of course, but she thought those were sea tales, things sailors said to explain things they didn’t understand. Could creatures like sirens exist? She remembered Drew mentioned something about them before, but she’d been too delirious from the pain to recall specifics.

Just thinking about it made her queasy. She had been on the water before, only a few times because of her sea sickness, but knowing there was a chance she could have been seduced by a sea demon…

She didn’t like to think about it.

As she reached out and traced the different spines of books with her fingers, she felt a magical jolt, a spark of life, of excitement. She wanted to read everything offered here. These were the truths of the world, not the lies spouted from the mouths of handlers and professors.

But she couldn’t indulge. Not when she had such little time.

Footsteps came upon her. Kelia froze. She had been caught. She was going to be punished. How could she have not heard them?

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist,” a voice said from behind her.

Kelia turned to find Daniella standing there with one hand on a jutted hip, her head tossed to the side, her frizzy red hair left down.

“What are you talking about?” Kelia asked.

“The council chambers?” Daniella asked, nodding at the black bookcase. “I let it slip to you back in the library on purpose.”

Kelia furrowed her brow. “I don’t understand.”

Daniella pinched the bridge of her nose. “Of course you don’t,” she said under her breath.

Kelia bit her tongue to keep from making a smart retort.

Daniella dropped her hand so it slapped her thigh audibly. “You are more naive than I thought you were. Do you know that, Starling?”

Kelia clenched her teeth. “If all you’re going to do is insult me, you can go do whatever it is you were planning on doing, thank you very much,” she said. “I have important things I need to do here.”

“This is what I was planning to do,” Daniella said. “You would not have known about this place otherwise.”

“So?” Kelia asked.

“You are so uninformed.”

Fire burned through her veins. She almost wished Daniella had used the word stupid or idiotic; it would have been much less offensive.

Daniella took a step toward Kelia, and Kelia stiffened, dropping one foot back and angling her torso, as though preparing for a fight. It sounded ridiculous, where they were. She hoped Daniella would not risk drawing any attention to herself, especially considering she was progressing as a Sightless just as Kelia was.

“I thought your lover would have told you, or at least, that whore he keeps around,” Daniella continued. “Speaking of which, I wondered what you thought about her—the whore. In your entire relationship with him, did you even consider he may be having an affair with her? Why else would he treat her with such respect?”

Kelia's mouth dropped open. Emma? Why would Daniella be speaking of Emma? How would she even know about Emma?

“Because Emma is a person,” Kelia forced herself to say. She didn’t want to look more foolish than she already did, especially not in front of Daniella. “And all people deserve respect.”

“Does Drew Knight fall into that category?” The corners of her lips tilted up into a smirk. “Would you consider him a person who deserves respect?”

Kelia dug her fingernails into her palms, her fingers coiling into tight fists. She so desperately wanted to take a swing at Daniella. Kelia had never been one to use her body as a weapon, but after an informative lesson with Drew Knight, she realized she was a lot more powerful than she gave herself credit for.

“What about Emma?” Daniella pushed.

“What about Emma?” Kelia spat back.

“You said you think she’s a person.” Daniella took another step toward Kelia. “I don’t mean that whores aren’t people, of course. My aunt was a whore, and she made as much money in one night as my whole family made in an entire month. I have nothing but respect for whores. But Emma isn’t like most whores, is she?”

“She’s affiliated with a Sea Shadow,” Kelia said. “That does not make her normal by any means.”

Daniella snorted. “Are you really this stupid, Kelia?” she asked. “You’re telling me you had a relationship with Drew Knight, and in that time, you had no idea who Emma is? Or, I should say, what she is?”

Kelia ground her teeth. “I do not have time for this, Daniella.”

“Your Emma,” Daniella said in a voice just above a whisper, “is a witch.” She smiled. “I’m honestly surprised you didn’t know that.”

“How do you know that?” Kelia asked.

“She’s an associate of Drew Knight,” Daniella said as though it was obvious. “The Society is brilliant at doing everything it can to be well-informed.”

Kelia was starting to get impatient. She would not allow Daniella to compromise everything she worked so hard for.

“What does Emma have to do with the council chambers?” she asked.

Daniella allowed the moment to hang between the two of them.

“Emma,” she said slowly, “is a witch. I just told you that. Did it slip you by?”

“I heard you the first time,” she said, not bothering to hide her doubt. “And it sounded just as ridiculous then as it does now. Why even bring it up?”

“It’s the truth,” Daniella said before waving a dismissing hand. “Listen, what do I care if you believe me or not?”

Kelia turned to look back at the bookcase. She touched her fingers to her chin. “Why would you help me? Why bring me down here?” she asked. “You hate me. You insult me. You never want anything to do with me. And I don’t even know what I did to anger you this much.”

Daniella shifted her weight. She picked at lint on her shoulder. But her lips were pulled into a tight line.

“I know what you’re looking for,” Daniella said. “At least, I have an idea.” She locked eyes with her. “I hate this place. I hate The Society more than I hate anyone or anything. You would be considered my close friend compared to my feelings of this place. Any way I can fuck this place, I am all for it.”

Kelia flinched at the language, but she nodded once. “The enemy of my enemy,” she muttered.

“If you’re looking for something forbidden, something that you should not be searching for, it will be here.” Daniella gestured at the bookcase. “I would hurry, though. Sermon is over soon, and you have books you need to sift through.”

Kelia waited for the other shoe to drop. Was this a trick of some kind? Was she trying to get Kelia in trouble, so she was removed from The Society...or worse?

“You still haven’t answered why you’re helping me,” Kelia said pointedly. She couldn’t bring herself to trust Daniella, at least not yet. “There must be more to it than just your hatred of The Society.”

“Like I said,” Daniella said with a shrug. “I may not agree with your relationship, and I definitely don’t like you, but what you did really struck a chord with everyone here. You infuriated pretty much everyone, and I found I enjoyed that very much.” She gave Kelia an amused smile. “As such, this hunt is my repayment to you. I won’t do anything else for you again, fear not.” She moved to run her fingers along the spines. “This section has two ledgers.” She paused, placing her hand on the last two books on the third shelf. “If you’re searching for someone magical, they’ll be there.”

“How do you know all of this?” Kelia asked.

Daniella paused before pulling out one of the ledgers. If possible, it looked older than the ones Kelia had looked through in the library, the cover faded black with thick pages that appeared brittle to the touch.

“I know many things,” Daniella said, her voice low and bitter. She placed her hand on the back of a chair, gripping it with her fingers. “Things someone like me should not know. They cannot do anything to me, however. They know this.” She locked her eyes on Kelia. “I am more than what I appear. I know these things because I seek answers. I get punished when I am caught, but it is well worth it, because I will eventually make sure this place is nothing but ash.”

Kelia took the ledger from her. “Daniella,” she began, “you sound very much like…” She let her voice trail off, not quite sure if she was ready to admit that Daniella was very much like Kelia herself. “Thank you for your help.”

“I wasn’t doing it for you,” Daniella made sure to say. “Like I said, anything forbidden to Slayers is exactly what I long to educate myself with. I’ll leave you to it. Make sure you hurry, though. Your time was almost up before it began.”

“Daniella,” Kelia called when the other girl spun on the heel of her boot, ready to leave Kelia to her own devices. Daniella paused, glancing over her shoulder. Kelia offered her hand, shifting the ledger under her other arm. “Whatever your reason for doing this, I want you to know I appreciate it.”

Daniella nodded, but did not take Kelia’s hand. “Think nothing of it,” she insisted. “Please.”

Kelia’s lips curved up, and she gave Daniella a nod. After returning the gesture, Daniella disappeared.

Kelia turned back to the shelf. It felt ominous being here, like she was an open target. The door Daniella had so recently closed felt like it could open at any time. She needed to hurry.

She slid into the wooden chair, then curled her fingers around the corner of the ledger’s thick, black cover. There was no title, nothing to indicate what it was about. Instead, there was gold lettering with two dates: 1600-1700. One hundred years of names. One hundred years of history.

Her heart pounded against her chest. She wasn’t sure if she was dreading going through each individual page, looking for one name in a sea of many, or if she was looking forward to seeing why these names were kept in this ledger as opposed to the ones in the library.

Slowly, Kelia turned the cover over, opening the book. Her senses were assaulted with the old, rusted scent of history. She paused, taking a moment to get used to how fragile the pages were.

Remembering that she needed to hurry, she started to read.

She still had not found anything on Wendy Parsons.

The entries were like the ones posted for public consumption. There were names, birth dates, genders, addresses, jobs, places of birth, places of death, dates of marriages, children produced by marriages.

There were two differences, however: one, there were not many death dates next to these names. This confused Kelia because she wasn’t sure if they simply forgot to add one or if death was possibly unknown. A third, less likely option, was that the people without a date next to their name had not died at all, despite their births being hundreds of years ago.

“But that’s ridiculous,” she muttered, shaking her head and rubbing her eyes with the back of her hands.

She had been staring at tiny black script in perfect handwriting, and her eyes had begun to tire. Her back was starting to strain from hunching over the table. She had pulled a muscle in her neck from whipping her head toward the door every few minutes to ensure she still had time.

One other difference between this ledger and the general ledger was there was a symbol next to each name. There was a crescent moon, the silhouette of a dog or a wolf, musical notes, and a cauldron. For the life of her, she could not figure out what they meant.

To complicate matters even more, there were some names—not many but still enough to notice—without a symbol. Kelia did notice that the names without symbols were typically accompanied by a union with someone with one.

Kelia turned the pages, her gaze flickering down each one. It was kept in alphabetical order, and she wanted to get to the Ps as quickly as possible. However, even she was not immune to getting swept up in the various names and families that were kept in this ledger.

What made these names different compared to the others? she wondered. What did these little symbols mean? Why did some have them and some did not?

And why did the children typically have two symbols? Sometimes different, sometimes the same, but often two. Another mystery.

“No time for questions,” she said. “You must find the name.”

After fifteen minutes, she heard voices down the hall. They belonged to the seven men who made up the Council, including Rycroft. Voices carried, so she probably had a minute before they reached the door.

Page after page. Nothing.

The voices got louder. She could hear their conversation clearly.

Another page and Kelia was finally able to find the name. Underneath an Andrew Parsons, there was a Wendy Parsons. She was not married, and it did not look as though she had any children. There was a cauldron next to her name. After the cauldron, there was a key. After the key, there was a star. Three symbols next to one name. Her birthdate was the seventeenth of December in the year of sixteen hundred and ten. There was no death date.

Kelia wrinkled her brow. Wendy Parsons did exist. For some reason, her name was in ledgers that were hidden away by The Society with a cauldron by her name. But Drew Knight clearly knew she was alive, that she existed. He wanted Kelia to find out if she was here, in The Society.

But she had no idea how she was supposed to do that. She had no idea how Wendy was still alive unless she was some sort of supernatural entity as well.

She slammed the ledger shut, then quickly slid it back onto the bookshelf. She put her chair right where she’d found it, making sure it was in place, before running to where she left the jug. She grabbed it, then poured water in the basin on a small desk.

Kelia slowly exited the room. She already knew they would see her. She had to accept that. But if she kept her head down and her eyes on the floor as she walked away from them, she might not be recognized. At least, she hoped so.

Her path crossed theirs, but they did not seem to even see her. Still, she kept her head down, her heart pounding in her chest, wanting to get away from there as quickly as possible. Until they saw her face, she could be any of the Sightless.

She didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until she was safely down the hall and released it. That was too close.

She needed to find Daniella, and the best place to start that search was in the library. It felt like forever before she finally found the familiar room. She forced herself to refrain from looking over her shoulder so she would not get caught. She was certain she would be called by name by a Councilman who somehow knew what she had been doing in the council chambers, what she had discovered. However, no one came after her. She met no one down the halls.

It would seem, for now, she was safe.

She dropped one hand from the jug of water to open the door to the library. A familiar head of frizzy red hair sat at the front desk, scribbling something on a piece of parchment.

Relief flooded through her body. She had never thought a day would come where she yearned to see Daniella, but she practically skipped over to her.

“Daniella!” Kelia exclaimed in a whisper.

Daniella snapped her head up, narrowing her eyes. “You’re here?” she asked. “Seriously? I already—”

“I need more,” Kelia said, almost breathless. “Of your help, I mean.” She glanced around the library, realizing they were alone. That did not mean, however, that ears were not listening. As such, she made sure her voice was lowered as she said, “There are symbols next to each name. I don’t understand what they mean. A full moon, a silhouette of a dog, a wolf. A cauldron, a musical note. What does it mean?”

Daniella rolled her eyes. “You have got to be joking, Shade,” she said. “How were you head of our class back when we were Slayers? It’s beyond me.”

Kelia stared at her blankly, not reacting to her insults but clearly indicating she did not approve of them, either.

“Read between the lines, Kelia Starling,” Daniella said. “They’re pictures so basic even a child can understand them. A dog or a wolf. What supernatural entity do you think that symbolizes, hmm?”

The supernatural. That was the missing link. The ledgers in the council chambers were filled with supernatural entities.

“A Blood Beast,” Kelia said. Her lips curled into an excited smile. “A cauldron is a witch. A full moon symbolizes nighttime, which must symbolize Sea Shadows. And a musical note…”

This one gave her pause.

“Sirens, you idiot,” Daniella muttered.

But Kelia already knew what she needed to know. Wendy Parsons was a witch.

What did Drew Knight want with a witch? And if Emma was really a witch, too, then why did he need two of them?

11

Kelia woke up the instant she felt someone in her room. She knew who it was without even looking. It was always the same person—the same Shadow, she should say. How did he know she had discovered something important? Did he have people working for him she didn’t know about?

Or maybe he was watching her himself. She was not sure how she felt about either scenario. If he was going to do that, why even have her snooping for him in the first place?

All she knew was that he was here, and she still couldn’t give him everything he asked for. Specific location eluded her.

He looked astoundingly beautiful under the glow of the full moon that seeped in her now-open window. His face was chiseled, his cheekbones inescapably high, and his jawline masculine and defined. His dark hair was uncharacteristically disheveled, though, giving him more the air of a rogue.

With a white tunic cut deep, revealing a hint of a well-defined chest, and a navy overcoat with gold buttons that reached the back of his thighs, no one would suspect him of being what he was. Shadows were monsters, beasts that could not control themselves. In his black pantaloons and shiny knee-high boots, although worn, he appeared too dignified and refined.

“Kelia,” he said, his eyes deep and dark as they rested on her, as though he saw nothing else.

Human men couldn’t come close to his beauty. Even Kelia, once so strong in her conviction against Shadows, found herself unable to speak, unable to breathe around him, even when they had first met and she thought he was evil incarnate.

“Mr. Knight,” she said curtly, once she found her voice.

“Now I’m Mr. Knight?” He smirked. “You’ve called me Drew before. Come now, there is no need for such formalities. After everything we went through together, I consider you my—”

“Friend?” Kelia pulled the covers up to hide her shift as best as she could while keeping an eye on the Shadow in her bedroom. “I don’t know if that’s the best word to describe our relationship.”

“Would lover be more accurate?” he asked, taking a step toward her bed. “That is what everyone thinks we are, is it not?”

“Were,” Kelia said, her tone firm. “Past tense. If they thought I was continuing our relationship, they would have killed me outright.”

“I know.” A somber look touched Drew’s face. “How are you?”

“Is that why you’re here?” Kelia asked. “To ask how I am?”

“Is that wrong?” Drew gazed at her, his eyes intense and brimming with an emotion she couldn’t read. “Just because you see us as nothing more than…however it is you see us...I consider you a trusted friend.”

Kelia froze. Her hands played idly with the quilt, tugging at the soft material between her fingers. She could see the sincerity in his brown irises, which surprised her. Drew knew how to manipulate words so they benefited him, but he was not one for lying.

“What is it you want?” she asked again, her voice still firm, but now, she couldn’t hide the softening edge of her tone. She sat up, pulling the covers with her.

“Say it,” he said, his voice low, making goosebumps crawl across her skin.

Her eyes snapped to his. “What?”

“My name,” he told her. “Say it. Say it like it doesn’t mean anything to you, and I’ll leave you alone.”

“Drew,” she murmured, her voice no more than a whisper. She couldn’t even pretend. Truth was, she didn’t want him to leave her alone.

A smile slid across his face, slow at first but brilliant. Kelia couldn’t help but stare at him without speaking, without feeling any sort of shame in this moment for being awestruck at something so beautiful.

“What?” she finally asked when the silence had grown between them. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I like the way you say my name,” he said. “I want to hear you say it more.”

“That’s rather inappropriate for you to say.”

His lips curled over his teeth, but not quickly enough, because she’d already seen his fangs slip out. It was so easy to forget what he really was. So easy to assume he was just like everybody else.

“I do not subscribe to what is deemed appropriate,” Drew said, continuing toward her with another slow, strolling step. “I decide for myself.”

“There must be some rules you abide by,” Kelia pointed out. “If everyone acted with reckless abandon, there would be chaos.”

“I prefer chaos,” he said, his lips quirking up.

“I’m sure you do.” She tilted her head to the side so her hair spilled over her shoulder. She didn’t like that it was undone in his presence, but there was nothing she could do about it, especially when he showed up without any warning. She started to braid it, hoping to ease her nervousness “Why are you here, Drew? The real reason.”

He smiled again. “Yes,” he said, closing his eyes. “I very much like the sound of that.” Opening them back, he said again, “I truly have come to check on you, however. To see how you are.”

Kelia sighed. “That sounds more like what you have done, and not so much why you’ve done it.” She pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers. “Do you feel guilty? Do you think that it makes things okay between us? This—”

“Friendship?”

Kelia cut him a look. “If you will not tell me, the least you can do is let me know how Emma is.”

“She is well,” Drew said nonchalantly. “She asks about you from time to time. You know, she created the balm I gave you.”

“So you’ve told me,” she replied.

Kelia’s palms got clammy at his mere mention of the ointment he rubbed into her bare back. It was such an intimate thing for him to do, for her to allow him to do. Especially considering he was a Sea Shadow, and they were known to rip flesh to shreds at the mere hint of blood in the air.

Kelia flashed her gaze to Drew, and he sent her an inquisitive look in response.

“May I ask you a question?” she said, suddenly shy. “And I ask not to offend but out of curiosity.”

His eyebrows pulled together. “You may ask me anything,” he told her, and Kelia could sense his tone was nothing but sincere, though he did seem confused.

Kelia didn’t blame him. A moment ago, she had been arguing with him about their relationship. And now she wanted to ask personal questions. That didn’t stop her desire to know, so she pushed forward, even if it meant enduring his teasing about it later.

She swallowed, trying to moisten her throat as it tightened and went dry. When that didn’t work, she wrapped her covers more firmly around herself, then stood to head to her water basin where she poured herself a glass of water. She wished she had a proper robe to throw on over her shift, but there was not one near her. She would have to trust he was honorable. Ridiculous assumption, yes, but after all he had done for her, he’d earned the benefit of the doubt.

She took a sip of water, her braid still over her shoulder, and regarded him. His gaze remained steady on her face, not sinking lower to her body as one might have expected of him, but his eyes had gotten darker. Hungrier.

Her throat went dry once more. She didn’t know what that look meant, exactly, but she knew it was something akin to desire. As if she could be desirable, especially with scars running up and down her back. What once was a sensual part of her body was now a portrait of all of her decisions since her father died. And Drew knew that. He had seen it himself.

Perhaps she had misread him.

“You were there,” she finally managed to say. “You were there when I had blood running down my back. I know I was half delirious. To tell you the truth, I honestly thought I was going to die. But you did not taste me—my blood, I mean. You didn’t even look tempted.”

“Trust me, I was,” he said darkly. “I very much wanted to taste you, especially having smelled you. Your scent…” He looked out the window, and she followed his gaze to the waves crashing into the nearby shore. “Your scent did things to my body no woman has ever done before. And, I will admit, the beast inside of me wanted nothing more than to clean you up with my tongue, to feel you dripping down my throat so I could bury you deep inside of me and never let you go. I can smell your innocence. I can smell your purity. A Sea Shadow has this innate drive to want nothing more than to corrupt the innocent, to claim them as their own. Much like a wild animal is driven to procreate, to fuck something without thinking, a Shadow’s predisposition is to do the same.”

She bristled at his words, and yet, they also sent a thrill through her.

“And you think that’s all right?” she asked in a voice just above a whisper.

Her feelings were a jumble of contradictions that she couldn’t sort through under his penetrating gaze. She thought he was different from other Shadows, that maybe Shadows weren’t beasts after all, but, maybe, he was simply good at hiding his nature. Maybe that’s what made him the most dangerous Sea Shadow after all.

“There’s nothing I can do to curb my conflicting feelings because of what they made me,” he said. His voice was low, a growl. “I’ve had nearly a century to accept what I am. Some never do. But with time comes the ability to control. As much as I wanted to taste you, I did not. Because you did not give me permission and you were in a compromised position. If you ever do decide to give me your blood, of your own free will, I most certainly would not decline to ravage you. I would make your knees go weak with desire. I would consume your very essence until you and I are one in every sense of the word. But I will not take it from you unwillingly. Do you understand?”

Kelia turned back to her water and gulped down the rest of it. How was she supposed to respond to that? She couldn’t. Her body did, however, and she didn’t want him to notice. But she was certain he did. If he could scent changes in her body, he would notice.

“I may be a Shadow, and I may have my…moments of anger, of when this other self, this beast that I try adamantly to keep contained, breaks free and takes over. But when it comes to you, Kelia, I swear on my life I will never harm a hair on your body,” he said. “Your consent, if you ever honor me with it, will make it taste that much sweeter.”

Kelia wanted to pour herself a third glass of water, but she thought that might be a little excessive.

“Kelia, when I saw those marks on your body…” Drew clenched his jaw so hard it popped before he spun on his boot and headed toward the window. The black sky was filled with stars that twinkled like fireflies. The moon was cut in half, waiting until it saw its mate. “Rycroft was the one who damaged you, yes?”

At Kelia’s nod, Drew continued. “Interesting, because handlers rarely do the dirty work themselves. Except Rycroft. Not when it has to do with me. He made it personal.”

“Everyone hates you, Drew,” Kelia said, slowly setting her glass down on the counter. “Why do you assume Rycroft is making it personal when you are a natural enemy of The Society?”

“There is a history between Rycroft and myself,” he said. “A history that is filled with blood and fury. I would bathe in his blood and call it a victorious bath if I could.”

Kelia felt her skin pale, though his body still seemed as though it carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. There was a flicker of red in his dark eyes, a hint at the beast masked in a beautiful shell. His fangs glimmered under the half-moon glow. They looked sharp and pointed, ready to sink into something soft.

“When he found out you assisted me, when he found out we had a relationship that was sexual in nature,” Drew said, “I knew he would harm you. I knew he would harm you because doing such a thing would hurt me.”

Kelia turned to the water basin. She could see her reflection in the water, her golden locks trying to escape from her braid already. There were bags under her eyes, and her lips lacked their usual color. She was tired. Overworked. Stressed. She hadn’t gotten anywhere with her father and why The Society thought it wise to have him killed. His journal was cryptic at best, and she hated reading the same passages over and over, hoping to find a clue, something she might have missed.

“I don’t understand,” she said, still not looking at him. She couldn’t, though she was unsure as to why. It just felt like there was a heaviness between them, a heaviness that could turn into something else. And Kelia wasn’t ready to explore that just yet.

“Are you daft, then?” There was an edge to his voice, but he wasn’t rude about it.

Kelia turned to him.

“I care about you, Kelia. I thought my actions have made it plain. I risked much when I came to check on you after your lashing. And I risk much now, coming—”

“Perhaps it is a risk, but it’s something you do for yourself as much as you do for me,” she replied, her voice strained. “And it puts me at as much risk as it does you. So don’t pretend you are here solely for me when I am almost positive you are keen to see where I am in my progress of tracking down Wendy Parsons.”

“You dismiss my feelings for you?” Drew asked.

Kelia looked away and shifted her weight. She was not quite certain what to say. While she didn’t know Drew Knight well enough to decipher whether he was manipulating her senses or being genuine, she liked to believe he would not say something unless he truly meant it. Because a part of her—a part of her bigger than she thought—wanted Drew Knight to care about her.

She almost laughed at what she had become: a woman who longed for a Sea Shadow to care for her. It was almost too ridiculous to even ponder.

“Feelings...” Kelia said. “Are you capable of having feelings?”

He ran his fingers through his hair before dropping his hand so it slapped his thigh. She hated the way he looked at her. Then again, she hated that she would even ask him a question like that, after everything he had done for her.

“You still see me as a beast, then?” he asked, his voice quivering with anger, with restrained patience. “I can feel the same things you feel. I can feel anger and frustration. I can feel rage and passion, hunger and desire and lust. I can feel despair and loss, sadness. I feel what you feel, perhaps more than what you feel because I have been around much longer and have much more pain to carry. You are so young, so vulnerable, and that’s exactly why you know nothing of what I’ve gone through. And you never will.”

Kelia took a breath and looked away. Her cheeks burned with shame.

“I consider you someone I care about, Kelia Starling,” he continued, “whether you believe me or not. And I swear to you, I will get revenge on Ashton Rycroft for what he did to you, regardless of what it might cost me.”

This caused Kelia’s interest to pique. “What might it cost you?”

Drew straightened. “Rycroft is an associate of someone important in my life,” he said. “And that associate has a lot of control over me, whether I want that or not. And it would not surprise me if Rycroft used you, tortured you, to hurt me.”

“Certainly Rycroft knows you do not have weakness and therefore he cannot use anyone, especially me, against you,” Kelia said as though it was obvious. “Perhaps I can admit that we are friends. But friends—”

“Sea Shadows do not have friends, Kelia,” Drew snapped. “Only allies and associates. Not friends. Especially not me.”

“Emma?”

“Emma is someone I trust and respect,” he said. “We’re both looking for the same person. An alliance would be most beneficial for us. But I would not consider her my friend.”

“Then what makes us friends?” she asked, cocking her head to the side.

“We’re not friends, Kelia Starling. We are much more. And one day, you will realize that.”

Kelia shook her head. This was not what she needed to hear right now, yet it was the very thing she realized she wanted to hear from him. She needed to change the subject, needed to talk about something more than just feelings and Shadows and how it was an impossibility that they were related in some way.

“I found Wendy Parsons in a ledger in the library,” she said. “After discussing this with a librarian, I found these particular records of supernatural entities. Wendy Parsons is a witch, and she is here. I just do not know where.”

“How?” Drew asked. “How do you know that?”

“There is a forbidden bookshelf in the council chambers,” Kelia said. “I found her name in a ledger with a cauldron next to it. This usually means the named person is a witch. Granted, I knew witches existed, but I didn’t realize they were immortal. She’s been alive since the early sixteen hundreds. An acquaintance of yours, perhaps?”

Drew crossed his arms over his chest and looked out the window. “What makes you say that?”

Kelia tilted her hair so her hair fell over her shoulder and she began to play with the ends. “We did study you, you know,” she told him. “I had to write a paper on you. Whether I thought your personal history—what we know of it, anyway—predisposed you to choosing to be a Sea Shadow.”

This seemed to catch his attention. “You think it was a choice?” he asked, his voice as deathly as his pointed teeth gleaming under the moonlight’s silvery glow.

Kelia opened her mouth. She wasn’t sure if she was about to apologize or if she was going to defend herself.

But before she could do anything, a loud knock on the door interrupted them.

12

Kelia opened the door, her heart racing against her chest, only to find Charles. For a moment, she almost forgot that Drew Knight was currently shoved in her wardrobe.

What was Charles doing here?

“Charles,” she murmured, then cleared her throat and positioned herself in front of the crack in her door. She hoped Drew was intelligent enough to stay where he was, but she didn’t want to take any chances.

If Charles found out about her continued association with Drew Knight, how it had not ended even after being given the chance of redemption through rehabilitation, he would tell Abigail. He would tell Rycroft. And everything Kelia had worked so hard toward would be for nothing. She would probably be killed, and any hope of figuring out why her father was murdered would be for naught.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. She didn’t bother to hide the suspicion from her tone or from her face as she regarded him.

Charles was not a terrible looking fellow. He had stormy grey eyes and dark hair tied back into a loose ponytail. He was tall and lean, but still strong, and for the longest time, he had wanted to court Kelia.

She had considered him an acquaintance at best, but changed her mind after he betrayed her relationship with Drew Knight to Rycroft. He was the reason she had these scars running up and down her back. He was the reason she nearly died from infection. He was the reason she was a Sightless now. It did not matter to her that he was concerned for her. If he had just minded his own business, none of this would have happened.

“I just,” he began, but his words faltered. He looked at the wooden floor, his cheeks turning red with what seemed to be shame. “I wanted to check on you.”

“After two months?” she asked. “Charles, you’re the reason…”

She stopped herself before she could finish only because she was certain Drew would be able to hear. She was certain he could hear Charles. Since he didn’t know who had betrayed her, she didn’t want to give him any reason to feel a need to protect her, as though he had this burden he now carried around because of her. Because of what she did for him. And now he felt as though he owed her even though she technically owed him.

Perhaps that was the only reason he saved her, why he was compelled to tell her things as ridiculous as how much he preferred hearing her say his name. There were no actual feelings behind it, no meaning. He did it because he felt guilty for what she did for him—how he was free and unharmed while she was trapped and scarred.

But that couldn’t be right, either. He had asked her to leave. She chose to stay. And he would not feel guilty about what he had done for her if he didn’t genuinely care about her.

Charles cleared his throat, reminding her that she could not get lost in her thoughts.

“You have a lot of nerve coming here at night after curfew when you know I would be by myself,” she said.

“A lot of nerve? I saved you, Kelia. From yourself, from your relationship with Drew Knight.” His forehead wrinkled as spoke, not knowing he was giving away the one thing she did not want to discuss with Drew present. “If it weren’t for me—”

Kelia’s short span of patience with Charles vanished. Everything she did not want to say tumbled out of her, and she couldn’t stop it if she tried.

“If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have these scars up and down my back for the rest of my life,” she said, her voice firm and low. “If it weren’t for you, I would not have almost died from infection and bleeding out because of the lashes I received. If it weren’t for you, I would not be reduced to a Sightless, a shell of what I once was.”

“Some lessons are hard learned. I will not apologize for keeping you safe,” he said, and there was more passion in his tone than she had heard from him in the entire time she had known him. “I understand that you are—were—put in precarious position where you had to choose between being a Slayer and getting married. Most women rebel against both and choose something else for a time, until they are ready to make a notable change. I thought that perhaps…” He let his voice trail off, taking a step toward the door. He seemed to think better of it and took a step back.

“You thought what?” Kelia demanded, narrowing her eyes. Her grip on the doorknob tightened, her knuckles turning white.

“I thought if I gave you your time, you would see reason eventually,” he said.

Kelia couldn’t help but be somewhat shocked at his tone; Charles was many things, but fierce was not one of them.

“You did not. And that was when I decided to follow you. The minute I realized you were in a relationship in Drew Knight, I went to Rycroft.”

“So was it the Sea Shadow that concerned you, or was it that the relationship was not with you?”

“Kelia—”

“And was this before or after you blackmailed me into attending the Autumn Festival with you?” she continued, not really expecting an answer to any of her questions; it wasn’t as though she could trust any answer he gave. She released the doorknob, afraid she would slam it in his face if she did not release her hold on it.

She heard a click behind her and stilled. She hoped Drew would not do something rash. Perhaps this was not the best time for her and Charles to discuss their sordid history. Although, considering how Charles was a Slayer and should not be here in the first place, there was not any moment Kelia could think of when this conversation would occur. And this conversation needed to happen.

Charles opened his mouth, but Kelia jumped in, her thoughts about Drew Knight disappearing for now.

“I know,” she said. “You went to Rycroft before. You set the entire thing up. That was why I was intercepted that evening. Because they already knew about me.”

“I will not apologize for saving you,” he repeated, his chin tilting up pridefully.

“Nor will you apologize for using my choices to your advantage,” Kelia said. “Let me tell you something true, Charles. You did not save me—you ruined me. You have no idea what I have endured because you were jealous. Let’s not pretend it was any more than that.”

“I don’t understand!” Charles exclaimed. “You can’t possibly think you have a life as a Slayer going forward. Your only place in The Society now would be as a wife!”

Kelia shot him a look. “If I get in trouble because you came shouting at my door, you will have bigger problems to worry about,” she hissed at him.

They glanced around the hallway, but it didn’t appear Charles’s outburst had caught any attention. The last thing either of them needed was for anyone to find out Charles had shown up past curfew. He might get away with a slap on the wrist; for her, things would be much worse. She already had a tainted reputation, and even though Charles was not someone she thought of in that way, she would not be able to explain his presence after hours.

“What could you have possibly seen in that Sea Shadow to have made you want to develop such a relationship with him?” he asked, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “He is a monster who does not have the capacity to care for you the way you deserve to be cared for. He wants you for one reason and one reason alone. Your decisions have ruined you, Kelia, don’t you see that? Your reputation is irreparable. No man will ever want you for a wife if he knows your virginity was so willingly given to not only a Sea Shadow but Drew Knight. You will never be a Slayer again. You are ruined.”

Kelia clenched her jaw. “There is more to my life than choosing between marriage and Slaying,” she said. “Let me tell you something, Charles. And mark it, because it is clearly something you need to hear. My relationship with Drew Knight did not stem from some sort of rebellion because I was forced to decide. It happened because he understood me more than anyone else I know, perhaps better than I know myself.”

Charles blanched. His eyes filled with disgust, and he shook his head once. Kelia didn’t know if it was because she was vocalizing her relationship with Drew Knight or if she was being more aggressive with her tone than she usually was.

Kelia gripped the doorknob once more. “I trust you will not tell anyone, Charles,” she continued, “because then you would have to explain what you are doing at my door this late at night without an escort.” She paused, letting her words sink in. “My relationship with Drew Knight was something I chose because I wanted it. I wanted every piece of it. If that loses me prospects, that’s fine. I never wanted those prospects anyway.”

“You sound like you’re dangerously in love, Kelia,” Charles said, looking at her like she was a ghost, an apparition, something that would shock him so completely. “With a Sea Shadow.”

Silence hung between them like a dagger waiting to fall.

“I think it’s time for you to go, Charles,” she said.

Charles opened his mouth, but before speaking, clenched his jaw so hard it popped. With one last glare, he turned with a huff and stomped away.

Kelia let out a slow breath. Another click from behind her reminded her that she wasn’t alone. She closed the door, wishing she could lock it, not wanting someone to barge in. When it clicked shut, she turned around, only to find Drew Knight positioned by her bed, waiting to pounce. She startled at the sight, having never seen him look so…intimidating.

His knees were bent, his arms placed tightly behind him, shoulders square. His eyes were narrowed, jaw locked, lips pursed. His body coiled, ready to spring.

“Who. Was. That?” Each word out of Drew’s mouth was clipped.

Fear crept up her spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake. She swallowed.

“That was Charles,” she said, her voice tentative, almost hesitant.

“You’ve never mentioned him before.”

Kelia detected suspicion in his tone, as though he felt she was hiding something from him, information he should have been made privy to.

“Why would I have?” she asked, giving him a look she hoped conveyed just how annoyed she was with his line of questions. “He wasn’t relevant to our work. And more than that, he wasn’t a threat to our goal.”

“He blackmailed you so you would attend the Autumn Festival with him,” Drew said slowly. “Did you go with him?”

“I had no other choice.” She threw her hands out. “I could not risk everything I’d been working toward to be sabotaged because I was careless and Charles was cruel. It actually was not as bad as I thought it would be, either, up until I tried to go to you that night.”

“That’s how you were caught?” Drew interrupted. His entire body was posed, listening. “You were going to see me? Why?”

It took her a moment to remember why she wanted to see Drew in the first place—the night was a blur. All she could remember was flashing light and pain. Excruciating, unbearable pain. But as she thought about it, little by little, it started to come back to her.

“My friend and dorm mate was dying,” she said slowly. “The Society poisoned her using makeup. The same paralytic substance was found in my father’s body, I believe. He somehow fought back against his attacker, but he could not do much, and it was not long before he was consumed. The Society intended to do the very same thing to Jennifer. Well, I am not sure if it was the very same method of death. They did, however, paralyze her, and it made her extremely sick.” Kelia cleared her throat. “I managed to stabilize her and was rushing to you to tell you. I thought maybe you would be familiar with why The Society would do that to their Slayers and perhaps how they were able to concoct something with a paralytic effect.”

Drew paused, as if to let her words sink in. He ran his hand against his chin. The shadows of the darkness mixed with the glow of the moonlight, causing the space between his cheekbones to look hollow.

“I know someone who might be able to figure out how and what The Society has been able to do to achieve such a thing,” he remarked.

“Then I hope you will, because I’m not sure what they might do when they realize she isn’t using the makeup. That she isn’t getting ill as planned.”

“Why did you go to the Festival with that boy if you did not want to?” Drew asked, slowly walking over to Kelia. There was an intensity in him she couldn’t get away from. It was as though that paralytic agent was directly from his eyes; it rooted her in place, preventing her from even breathing.

“I didn’t want to risk The Society learning about my investigation in my father’s death,” she explained, her voice low. “If they think they got away with something, they are less likely to go out of their way to erase their tracks, remove damning evidence that might reveal the truth, look over their shoulders to see if anyone has noticed something suspicious.

“I also didn’t want them to trace my involvement in discovering clues to their true intentions,” she continued. “And perhaps, last of all, I didn’t want them finding out my involvement with you. Protecting you protects myself.”

It was only after she finished speaking that she realized Drew Knight stood directly in front of her, a hair’s breadth away.

“Liar,” he said. If he tilted his head down just so, his lips would be on hers.

Kelia swallowed. She couldn’t count the times she had imagined kissing Drew Knight, whether it was by choice or by accident. She didn’t want to admit she was thinking about kissing him now.

“You care about me, too, Kelia Starling,” he continued in that same husky voice. “If you did not, you wouldn’t have sent Jennifer to me with that warning. You would not have put yourself at risk for me. You would have turned me over the minute you were caught. Just admit it. Say it. Say you care about me.”

Kelia’s throat had gone dry. It would be so easy for her to step forward, to give into what he wanted—what she, herself, wanted—and she let out a trembling breath.

“I care about you, too,” she managed to get out.

He seemed surprised that she admitted to something so unlike her. His mouth dropped open, emphasizing his high cheekbones.

“I knew it,” he said, his voice playful, his smile sliding wider across his chiseled face. “See? I knew you cared about me. Why must you always be so bloody stubborn, Kelia Starling?”

Kelia locked eyes with Drew. “Who is Wendy Parsons?”

The question was out of her mouth before she could stop it. Truth be told, she didn’t want Drew to tell her these things, things she adored and left her blushing and breathless, without knowing who Wendy Parsons was to him. She didn’t want to play any games. She didn’t want him to say anything pretty unless those words meant something.

He pressed his teeth together. Kelia tried to read the look, but she couldn’t.

“You said it yourself,” he said slowly. “She is a witch. And that is all you need to know. Thank you.” His tone stopped her. Something had changed. Something she was not quite certain of. “For completing your end of the bargain. You found Wendy Parsons. You told me she was somewhere here. That was all that was required of you. I will not ask you to risk yourself again.”

He stuck out his hand. Kelia eyed it warily.

“What is this?” she asked, not taking his hand.

“I helped you prove your father was murdered, you helped me locate Ms. Parsons. Our relationship is complete, is it not? After all, we’re not friends.”

Kelia clamped her teeth to keep from saying anything even though she wanted nothing more than to argue. She hated that he apparently preferred to make points by doing it in the most harmful way. She didn’t think he was capable of hurting her with words. Perhaps this was what he felt when she had said the same thing.

“I suppose not,” she managed to get out.

“I will give you one piece of advice regarding your father since it seems quite important you solve the motive behind his murder,” he said. “Stubborn thing you are, you don’t seem satisfied knowing the East India Company wanted your father dead.”

Kelia said nothing. Instead, she stuck her hand out on her jutted hip, waiting.

“He was in charge of a very important, very secret program that only the Council knows of,” Drew said.

Kelia sighed, her breath shaky. She couldn’t look away from Drew Knight if she tried.

“And Wendy Parsons?” she asked. “What do you intend to do about her?”

Drew shrugged, turning from her to head toward the open window. When he secured himself on the bannister, he glanced over his shoulder.

“I’m sure you’ll find out, Slayer,” he said before he disappeared into the night.

13

Because there were no lessons today, Kelia thought it would be the best time to figure out why Wendy Parsons was being held by The Society. She had run out of time yesterday before she could discover anything new. She shouldn’t be heading back to the council chambers, but if she didn’t, she wouldn’t find the answers she desperately needed, and she’d be damned if she’d stayed a prisoner here for nothing.

Kelia dressed and broke her fast over porridge and juice. She kept her head down, not looking at anyone or speaking to anyone. Even from deep inside the fortress, she could hear thunder rumbling outside. The storm wouldn’t let up for a while. She smiled. The perfect time to conduct research. Everyone would most likely be in their rooms, and thunder would mask any noises she might make.

When she reached the council chambers, she paused, checking down one hallway and then another. So far, she was in the clear. She hurried to the chamber doors, then slid to her knees to look through the keyhole. She waited, standing back to her full height in case she needed to dash off.

Her heartbeat echoed in her ears. Still, no one emerged. Still, no sound.

She slid back down on her knees and pulled a pin from her hair, then slid it into the keyhole. With two distinct twists, the lock clicked. She stood once more, opened the door, and moved inside to shut the door behind her.

“Get. Out.”

Kelia turned to find Daniella standing in the corner of the room, a water jug in her hand. Kelia thought they had come a long way a couple of days ago, but now, Daniella’s gaze looked absolutely infuriated as she locked eyes with her.

“What happened?” Kelia asked in a soft voice. She glanced around the room, trying to figure out why Daniella was here and why she had gone back to acting so cruel.

“Get out, Shade,” she said again through gritted teeth, reminding Kelia of a snarling dog. “Do not step in this room with me here.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Kelia,” she snapped. “You’re doing research into your father, are you not? That’s why you’re here, in the council chambers, aren’t you? What more could you possibly want to know?”

Kelia would not tell Daniella what she was researching. For now, Daniella assumed she was doing research about her father, which was how Kelia planned to keep it. As long as it pulled her away from Drew Knight.

“What are you talking about?” Kelia asked.

Daniella set the water jug down, the water sloshing as her hand shook. “Wendy Parsons.”

“Okay. What does that have to do with my father?”

“Wendy Parsons,” she repeated, her grip on the jug’s handle so tight that her knuckles turned white. “Do you have any idea who she is?”

“A witch,” Kelia said slowly. Her mind raced quickly, trying to think of where Daniella was going to take this conversation and how she could defend herself against it. “I found her name in a ledger and—”

Daniella released her grip on the water jug and pushed back her shoulders, reaching her full height as she stepped chillingly closer to Kelia. But Kelia was not intimidated. She didn’t think she should be.

“That ledger belongs to The Society,” Daniella said, her voice a fatal whisper. “It’s The Society’s notes on all supernatural entities. Sea Shadows, witches, sirens. There was another indicator next to her name, or did you completely ignore that fact?”

“Why are you here?” Kelia asked.

“You wouldn’t understand.” She cracked her knuckles. “Just like you don’t understand what this key means. Even a simpleton would decipher its meaning.”

“What are you talking about?” Kelia repeated. She was starting to get frustrated that she didn’t understand what was going on.

“A key,” Daniella said. Another step closer. A threatening glare. “There was a key next to her name. Do you remember that?”

Kelia thought for a moment before nodding.

“Do you know what that key means?” Daniella pressed, her voice still strained. “Do you know what that symbol means?”

Kelia shook her head.

“After you left, I did some research on what you were doing,” Daniella said. “I thought these were ledgers keeping track of the supernatural in general, records The Society collected.” She threw her arm to the side, indicating the bookshelf, and Kelia had to stop herself from flinching. “I was wrong. These were records The Society created.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kelia had lots of questions and not enough answers, and she couldn’t find it in her to keep her tone civil.

“A key,” Daniella said again. She flexed her fingers, looking down at them while avoiding Kelia entirely. “You’re such an idiot. I can’t believe I’m even bothering with you. It means The Society has the person under lock and key.”

Kelia’s eyes widened. “Which means Wendy Parsons is here.” Kelia tapped her chin. “I knew that. I knew that. But where?” She spoke more to herself than to Daniella. “Clearly, something that requires a key. Somewhere hidden...”

Daniella snorted. “Not even close,” she muttered. “Do you think The Society only has one place they operate out of?”

This was a delicate question. As far as Kelia was concerned, The Society operated out of Port George and that was it. However, she knew they had allies in high places. The East India Company created The Society, which meant they controlled The Society. If Wendy Parsons—and any other paranormal entity with a key next to their name—were under Society custody, it might not be at the fortress. It might be somewhere else, somewhere the East India Company had control of.

Wendy Parsons, a witch. In The Society’s custody.

She shook her head, more to herself than to Daniella. Why did Drew Knight need to know where a witch was? Did he not know this himself? Could he not get this information on his own, or, at least, from Emma, especially if it was true that Emma herself was also a witch? Maybe she had contacts or abilities that would help track Wendy down.

“What?” Daniella asked, stomping her foot, her hands in fists and placed on her hips.

“Nothing.” There was no defensive tone, no attitude. Kelia was too deep in thought to care about Daniella’s glare.

“Do you know anything about witches, or are you just so wrapped up in your Sea Shadow that you don’t realize we’re surrounded by the supernatural?” Daniella asked. It sounded as though she was trying to insult Kelia, but Kelia didn’t take it that way.

Kelia blinked and looked back up at Daniella. “I don’t know why The Society would want to have a witch in their custody,” she admitted.

Daniella hung her head, shaking it, as if she was frustrated with Kelia, when really it should be the other way around.

“Can you stop this?” Kelia asked, her voice lowering so it was just a whisper.

She couldn’t risk anyone overhearing her conversation or catching her here and turning her into Rycroft. Everything she had worked so hard toward would slip through her fingers. However, she was acquiring additional information—valuable information. She couldn’t explain it, but she had a feeling Daniella was going to tell her something important, the final piece of the puzzle that caused all the others to fall into place.

“Clearly you know something I don’t, and instead of telling me everything at one time, you’re hinting at things and then getting angry when I don’t understand. Stop playing this game, and just tell me.”

The room stilled. Kelia didn’t know how to explain the atmosphere, but it changed. Shifted somehow. She glanced around, looking for any ears that might be listening in on their conversation.

She should have realized it before: Daniella knew things. She knew things the way Kelia knew things. Kelia didn’t know if she had a contact on the outside that told her these things. There was a good chance, if that were the case, Daniella would be feeding them inside information. It would make sense that she knew what the key symbolizes, that Wendy Parsons was a witch.

“You’re telling me you really don’t know why The Society would want a witch in their custody?” Daniella asked, her voice filled with doubt.

Kelia felt her fingernails dig into the soft skin of her palm. After all her dealings with Daniella, she was certain she would have crescent moons permanently embedded in her skin.

“Do you honestly believe that if I did, I would continue to speak to you?” Kelia asked. “Daniella, for some unknown reason, you absolutely detest me. I have done nothing to you, and you go out of your way to try and make my life miserable. Yesterday, you acted civilly toward me. And today, you come in and that civility has completely vanished. I have no idea what I’ve done to offend you since the last time we spoke, and I don’t know what I did to offend you before. All I know is you’ve been dancing around your motive for a while now, and instead of wasting our time, I would appreciate it if you would actually give me an answer instead of playing these games.”

Danielle stared at her, an indecipherable look on her face. She raked her fingers through her matted red curls. Unlike Kelia, it appeared Daniella had no qualms about being in the middle of the council chambers, confrontation written on her face like words on a page of a book.

“Did you learn nothing from your father’s journal?” she asked, her voice a sharp hiss.

Kelia froze. How the hell did Daniella know about her father’s journal? That had been given to her months ago, just after his death. At first, she had been suspicious of who had given it to her, but then she figured it was probably a Sightless. She had never figured out why a Sightless would want to help her and how they would know his journal would do the job, but it wound up in her bedroom before Rycroft or anyone on the Council found it.

A Sightless.

“You,” she said. “You gave me the journal.”

“What are you talking about?” Daniella hissed. She sounded confident in her dismissal of Kelia’s question, but Kelia saw her hesitancy. She caught it and saved it to her memories, so she could remember it when she needed to.

“I’m not as stupid as you make me out to be,” Kelia said, her tone flat. “That journal wasn’t given to me outright. Someone snuck it to me inside of another book. Only the person who did that would know I have it.”

Daniella opened her mouth, but Kelia sensed it was to instigate more argument, so she continued before Daniella had the chance to speak.

“But there’s more to it than that. You know more than a typical Sightless. And for whatever reason, you’ve been helping me. And now, for some reason, you’re going to deny it? I don’t understand you. Maybe if I did, it would help me figure out your role in all of this.”

“Do you know anything about me?” she asked through gritted teeth. “About who I was before this? Before coming here? And I don’t mean being a Sightless. I mean becoming a Slayer.”

Kelia wanted to react, wanted to say something, but she thought it would be best if she didn’t. She would wait for Daniella to tell her without giving her cause to refrain from saying anything.

“My mother was a witch, you idiot,” Daniella said. “My father was a rich man who hated my mother once he found out about what she was, and he hated me just as much as he hated her. He sent me here, hoping I would be rehabilitated.”

“I thought you were a Slayer first.”

“I was,” Daniella said. “At the insistence of Abigail. Why do you think she was demoted to Sightless? Abigail knew nothing about me. Regardless, she still had faith in me. But Rycroft found out and—” She cut herself off, her eyes flashing. “What they did to me, I will never forgive you for.”

“Me?” Kelia snapped. She immediately looked around, but the room remained untouched. No one could hear her yelp—at least, she hoped not. “What could I have done to you? I’m a year younger and barely knew who you were.”

“I suppose it would be wrong of me to blame the daughter for her father’s sins, assuming you really didn’t know,” Daniella said slowly. She was not amused, nor was she teasing. All she was, from what Kelia could see, was furious. “But everyone seems to think I’m going to cast a spell on them. Trust me, I would if I could.”

“Father’s sins?” Kelia asked. “What do you mean by that?”

Daniella took a step back and turned around. “I can’t hold your hand for everything, Starling,” she muttered. “Perhaps you need to finish reading your father’s journal and figure it out yourself.”

Kelia clenched her jaw and looked away. She started pacing. Her energy was bundled up, and she needed to get it out. She needed an outlet. Anger flared once more. Kelia strode over to Daniella and grabbed her shoulder, pulling her back.

“What the hell—” Daniella started.

“You will not speak of my father and walk away from me.” Kelia’s voice was low and deadly. “How dare you read my father’s journal? His secrets are not yours to tell.”

“Yet, you’re too stupid to figure out his secrets for yourself,” Daniella snapped back. She grabbed Kelia’s arm and dropped it with a flick of her wrist. “And don’t fucking touch me again.”

“Tell me what you’re insinuating,” Kelia said, her teeth clenched. “You seem to know more about my father than I do. Do something constructive for once and tell me.”

“Your father is responsible for a breeding program that forces witches to mate with Sea Shadows and create monstrosities,” she spat. She looked Kelia up and down.

“You’re a damn liar,” Kelia said. Her palms had gone clammy. Her knees shook. Her head got hot from anger, from the emotion running straight to her head in such a rush.

“Am I?” She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the stacks. “You mean to tell me you’ve read that entire journal and you didn’t figure that out?”

“And you mean to tell me you’ve read my father’s journal yourself?” Kelia asked. The silence in the council’s chambers was loud. It did nothing to mark the fury that caused Kelia to shake. “What gives you the right?”

“I will take any means to understand what happened to my mother,” Daniella said, crossing her arms. “In his journal, your father confesses to his crimes.”

“What crimes? He did no such thing!”

“Reread the journal, Kelia,” Daniella said. It was the first time she had used Kelia’s actual name instead of some bitter insult. “Perhaps he does not state it so obviously, but his crimes are present.”

What the hell was Daniella talking about? She had read her father’s journal multiple times and not one passage mentioned—

The missing pages. There were missing pages! Was Daniella referencing something from those? She nearly let the question tumble from her mouth before remembering it was best not to show all of her cards, especially to someone who was so hot and cold toward her.

She refused to acknowledge the allegation as being true. There were missing pages, yes, but that didn’t mean those missing pages proved he started a breeding program. She would not entertain such garbage.

So, instead, she went after Daniella’s logic.

“If you knew about these so-called crimes of my father, why were you nice to me yesterday? Why even help me now? Your beliefs are clearly nothing new.” This was what Kelia didn’t understand. “You helped me find out who Wendy Parsons is. You helped me understand she is being held prisoner by The Society. And yet, you’re acting worse than your usual miserable self as if you don’t want to tell me anything at all.”

Daniella dropped her arms to her side. “Like I said, any means necessary. I wasn’t being nice to you, Shade. I was using you.” She placed her hands on her hips. “I needed to know what you knew. I needed to know why you were so terribly interested in the ledgers. You have friends in dangerous places, Kelia.”

“And now you have what you want from me?” Kelia asked. “So, that makes it okay for you to treat me like crap because you’re angry about my father’s alleged involvement in some breeding program—”

“Alleged?” Daniella shrieked.

Kelia turned to the door. She had no idea where the Council was and how long it would last. She didn’t know if they would return at all. They needed to leave. If they were caught, it would be bad.

“We should go,” Kelia whispered. “Continue this conversation elsewhere.”

Daniella reached over and swept the jug of water off the table. Water splashed on both their legs, and the jug clanged against the floor.

“Isn’t that convenient?” Daniella snapped. “You beg me to talk to you, then when you don’t like my answers—”

“Shhh. You’re going to get us caught.”

Daniella stepped so close to Kelia there was barely room to breathe between them, but managed to get her hand up in the small space to poke Kelia in the chest. “I. Don’t. Give. A. Shit,” she growled. “Your family already stole everything from me that I ever cared about.”

“My father was an advisory board member,” Kelia said, pushing Daniella’s hand away but making a point not to step back from her. “He went out on missions. As I got older, he stepped back so he could focus on me.”

“Is that what you tell yourself?” Daniella asked, tipping her head back to laugh. She spun away from Kelia, still smiling, though her humor seemed underlined with anger. “Tell me, can you sleep at night using your logic?”

“And you—can you look me in the eye and tell me that my father organized and created something as dastardly as a breeding camp, subjecting innocent women to be raped by Sea Shadows?” she asked through gritted teeth. “I am supposed to believe this—about some program no one has ever heard of before?”

“Oh, it exists,” Daniella said. “And just because you don’t know about it, doesn’t mean everyone is as in the dark as you.”

“He was my father. I would have known. That doesn’t even sound like him!”

“Well, it is him, Shade. And he didn’t just create it,” she continued. “He was the one who proposed such an idea to the Council in the first place. After your mother was slaughtered, he blamed Shadows and sirens. It was the sea witch’s song that he fell for, her song that he followed. And when he realized his mistake, it was too late for her. In his anger and bitterness, he created this program to punish witches, while at the same time creating soulless demons he could control for his own nefarious purposes, to get revenge on those who killed your mother. But all he was doing was trying to escape the truth.”

“The truth?” Kelia repeated.

“The truth,” Daniella repeated. “That your father killed your mother.”

Before Kelia could stop herself, she lunged for Daniella. Daniella’s head cracked against the shelving behind her, but Kelia did not relent. She straddled Daniella and continued to hit her in the face until her fists hurt so much that she was forced to stop.

Daniella laughed, blood streaming out of her mouth like she was a Shadow herself. “Be in denial all you want, Kelia, but it’s the truth,” she said. “Witches, regular land witches, are paying because of your father’s lust for revenge. You know Emma, don’t you? You know her, as do I. She told me everything last night. Everything. Whoever you’re working for—if it is still Drew Knight—has been lying to you. He just wanted to confirm Wendy Parsons was here. He doesn’t give a crap about you, or anyone for that matter. You’ve been used.”

One final punch knocked Daniella out. But the pain in Kelia’s knuckles was nothing compared to the pain in her heart.

14

After her altercation with Daniella, it came as no surprise that Kelia’s attendance was required in Abigail’s office. What did surprise her, however, was Rycroft’s presence in such a small room. He looked uncomfortable, even though he was seated behind Abigail’s desk and she was left standing behind him.

A gentleman, to be sure.

Both handlers were frowning. Abigail had disappointment in her eyes while Rycroft seemed both angry and amused at the same time. How was that even possible? Kelia straightened under his heavy gaze, her back screaming at her in pain.

“Ms. Starling,” Rycroft said, leaning forward against the desk. His lips were curled into what seemed like a gleeful smile. “Thank you for meeting with me and your current handler today. I take it you’ve been well since the inflictions on your back.”

You mean, the inflictions you gave me, she thought to herself.

She didn’t want Rycroft seeing her fury or learning what she just found out, what Daniella had revealed to her, and how Kelia still refused to believe it, regardless of the sense it made.

It probably wasn’t a clever idea to attack Daniella at that point, but The Society had smeared her father’s good name, and Daniella was just adding to it. She was glad when she punched Daniella in the face. She almost wished Drew Knight was there, so he would be able to see that she took his advice and used the weapons she had been born with.

“Abigail, here, says you’ve made great strides in your rehabilitation,” he continued. “I hear she’s given you a new daily chore. You get to fill water in basins instead of dry dishes, correct?”

Kelia clenched her jaw and balled her fingers into tight fists she rested on her thighs. She didn’t know why Rycroft was opening this obvious punishment session with a prelude about how far she had come. Unless, of course, it was to rub in her face that, after her moment with Daniella, she had been regulated back to Shade and nothing more.

However, she knew this deadly chess match was something she needed to win, or the truth would be lost to her. More than that, she would probably be killed the same way Jennifer nearly was. Like her father was.

As such, she nodded.

“Good,” he said, taking the left hand of his spectacles and seemingly adjusting it. “Imagine my surprise, then, when Beatrice walked into the council chambers and found you attacking Daniella. Daniella herself isn’t an innocent, and she also had a talking to and an appropriate punishment assigned. I expect Abigail will see to it immediately.”

“Absolutely, sir,” Abigail murmured, her hands behind her back, her eyes on her feet.

“What was her punishment?”

Kelia wished she could have taken the question back, but she could not. Her old self was starting to break free, and she needed to be careful because letting that side of her out would get her into deep trouble.

Rycroft slowly raised an eyebrow, and Kelia hung her head. Really, the angle gave her the ability to roll her eyes without him seeing.

“I’m sorry for asking, sir,” she murmured, her cheeks red. “It’s none of my concern.”

“Quite right,” he said, nodding. “Ms. Starling, I must confess, I am trying to decide what I need to do in order to make it clear to you that we don’t tolerate violence against other Sightless.”

Kelia stopped herself from letting loose a derisive snort. She wanted to show him the marks on her back, remind him of the nonviolence he used against her after they discovered she had been in collusion with Drew Knight. Granted, they saw her actions as betrayal while she and Daniella were seen as two females who couldn’t control themselves.

“Tell me, my dear, in your own words, why you and Ms. Thompson were fighting in the council chamber.”

Kelia had no idea what Daniella told Rycroft. She knew it couldn’t have been the truth. The stories needed to be the same, and yet, it was not like they’d had any time to coordinate, if they could be civil enough to do such a thing.

“We had a disagreement,” she finally said, “about a boy.”

It was the stupidest thing she could have said, and she hated that she had to degrade herself over frivolous things, but it was necessary in order to keep her secret. To a degree, she was keeping Daniella’s secret as well, and Daniella was keeping hers.

“A…boy.” Rycroft did not sound as though he believed her.

She didn’t blame him, because it was the last thing she would ever fight someone over, and yet, it was the first thing that came to her mind. He already thought she was a silly girl. Perhaps she could continue to keep his perceived notion of her consistent.

Kelia nodded. She contorted her face so it did not seem as though she was annoyed with herself and the excuse she had been compelled to offer him.

“A boy,” she said. “Daniella insulted him, and that offended me.”

The claim, as its core, was essentially still true.

“And that caused you to attack her?” Rycroft asked, not bothering to hide his doubt.

Kelia shrugged, raising her head to look at him. “I realize my past transgressions were inappropriate,” she said slowly. The words came naturally to her, and she wondered if there was a small part of her that believed them. “By engaging in an affair with Drew Knight, I was selfish and inconsiderate. Not only did I put myself in danger, but I also placed my fellow Slayers at risk. The entirety of The Society could have been compromised because of me. Thanks to the mercy you have shown me by allowing me to remain here, with The Society, as a Sightless, I see the error of my ways.”

Rycroft nodded. His spectacles were slipping down his short nose, but he made no move to place them back on properly. Instead, he continued to look at Kelia with doubt. Yet Kelia could see that he did want to believe her because she was saying the right words.

Abigail crossed her arms over her chest. Kelia could tell she was getting tired of standing and doing everything in her to not have to lean against the back wall.

“As such,” Kelia continued, propelled by the confliction in Rycroft, “I’m trying to be better. I am better. I have shifted my attraction from the dark and dangerous to the admirable and appropriate. To put it bluntly, I liked another Slayer, Mr. Rycroft. After my transgressions, I am positive that he would never feel for me—even a little—in the same way I feel for him. But I took it as a positive thing that my attraction has shifted and that the desires I had in the past have faded away.”

“That’s all well, Ms. Starling,” Rycroft said, though his words came out hesitant. “But I’m not sure what this evolution has to do with the problem at hand. You assaulted another Sightless, and she assaulted you.”

“I’m trying to say that I have turned my focus to men who are appropriate for me to envision marriage with,” Kelia explained. “And to have her say something about it just set me off. As though she was challenging everything I have worked so hard to obtain. It was wrong for me to attack her, though, and I know I must learn to reign in my emotions.”

For whatever reason, she turned to Abigail who could no longer hold herself up and was leaning against the wall behind her, her hands behind her back as if to give her support. Her lips were pursed in deep suspicion. It was as though she could tell Kelia was lying. How, Kelia hadn’t the slightest idea.

“Appropriate?” Rycroft asked. He pushed back in his chair, tilting his chin up as if to assess her easier. “Please. Elaborate.”

Kelia’s heart quickened. That was the part of her speech he had focused on? She hadn’t expected she would be asked to explain that.

“Someone The Society would support if I were to choose marriage,” Kelia confirmed.

Rycroft’s lips twitched. He seemed amused by her comment. His blue eyes sparkled behind his spectacles, and the tip of his nose shined red like an apple. His cheeks pressed against the bottom of his eyes, causing the corners to wrinkle. He looked entirely too amused by what she said. She went over it in her head, but she couldn’t find anything that would make him react that way.

“It’s funny you should mention that,” he said, “because I have the perfect solution that would benefit both of us. For you, it would allow you to fulfill most of your rehabilitation. It would prove your loyalty to The Society and to your fellow Slayers. It would help us learn so much about things we’re currently still researching. And it would absolve any punishment we might have assigned to you for your behavior with Ms. Thompson.”

Kelia’s heart knocked against her chest. It was slow and pointed, almost painful. Whatever Rycroft had in mind, it would not be what she wanted. There would be a catch. Her trespasses would not be forgotten so easily.

However, if she did not at least appear interested, that, by itself, would draw more suspicion, which meant her goal of researching Wendy Parsons and what relationship Drew Knight had with Wendy Parsons would be compromised.

“Oh?” She tried to seem pleasantly interested, but she could barely keep her voice from cracking. “That sounds like a generous offer, Handler Rycroft. If I may I still address you as such?”

“Accept this and you may,” he said with a delighted grin.

“Accept what, exactly?” Kelia asked slowly. Her fingers buried themselves deep into the folds of her skirts. Her right heel started to clack against the ground, and she had to force herself to still the nervous jitter. The last thing she needed was for anyone to recognize her anxiety seeping into innocuous gestures.

His eyes raked over her. She tensed, trying to keep herself from reacting to his surprisingly lecherous gaze. Rycroft had been cruel and cold, heartless and violent. But he had never been inappropriate in a sexual manner toward her or anyone else from what she knew.

“You are able-bodied,” he said, finally meeting her eyes once more. “You are pleasing to the eye. Perhaps you could use more flesh on your bones, but that can be rectified. The only flaw you have is that mouth of yours. Just like your previous roommate—Jennifer Espinosa. Yet, somehow, her betrothed does not seem to mind. She is getting ready for her wedding, you know.”

Kelia hadn’t known, but she didn’t dare say as much. It might sound argumentative. Instead, she glanced at Abigail who seemed much more apt at disguising her emotions than Kelia was, although Kelia was working on it. It was difficult to decipher what Abigail was thinking, if she approved of whatever it was Rycroft was about to suggest. If she even knew what Rycroft was going to suggest.

“I miss her,” Kelia murmured before she could stop herself.

“I imagine you would,” Rycroft said. He leaned down and slid open a drawer. The desk was clearly Abigail’s, yet he treated it as though it was his own. “I can assure you that you will meet her again, if you agree to the terms.”

He was taunting her, teasing her, making her wait until he knew he had her. He was like a viper, waiting for the perfect time to strike.

“What are your terms?” she asked. Her voice was strained. She wanted to be nonchalant, but she could not disguise her impatience.

“Before I tell you,” he said, “you must agree to them. Slayers are not aware of a lot of intricacies and details that make up The Society. We keep it this way to ensure our Slayers are informed but protected.” He pulled out a folder from the drawer and placed it flat on the surface of the desk. “I will not tell you something you don’t need to know.” He looked up. “Because you have showed nothing but exemplary behavior as a Sightless, I expected you to jump at the chance to be part of something that would only increase your status. After all, you do explicitly trust The Society, do you not?”

Kelia looked up from her bruised knuckles.

“Fine,” she said. She wasn’t pleased and didn’t have the energy to pretend she was. What was she supposed to say? That, no, she didn’t trust The Society? Rycroft had cornered her with this. “I agree.” She turned to Abigail, who had her head down so the long locks fell in her face and shielded her profile. When she looked back at Rycroft, he was writing something down on parchment. “What have I agreed to?”

“Why, my dear,” Rycroft said, his lips curling up into a gleeful smile, “you have just agreed to participate in one of our most illustrious programs. You are going to volunteer as a participant in our breeding program. Congratulations, Ms. Starling. Your dreams of matrimony are about to come true—just not the way you expected them to.”

Kelia’s breath vanished. So, Daniella was right. The breeding program was real.

And now Kelia was about to experience it firsthand.

15

Kelia was hunched over her desk, poring over her father’s journal for any evidence that The Society’s own historical account had been falsified, that her father did not create and head a breeding program that involved the Sightless and the Sea Shadows.

She could no longer deny a breeding program existed. On the same day Daniella had suggested it, Rycroft had recruited Kelia for it. But that didn’t mean her father had created it. And there were still pieces missing. If the breeding program had to do with witches, why would they need Kelia—a Sightless—to participate in the program?

And in what capacity?

Her stomach churned at the possibilities, and she doubled down on her reading, trying to drown out those thoughts with the words in her father’s journal.

She could hardly concentrate the first time she had read his journal, as she was so overcome with losing her father, and now she was too distracted by her own fate to find any answers she missed the first time.

Kelia froze as a familiar presence filled her room. Drew Knight. She shot to her feet and spun toward him, away from her father’s journal.

He was soaking wet as he walked into the middle of her room, ruining her carpet.

“Are you harmed?” he asked.

“What makes you ask that?” she snapped. Upon hearing how her words came out, she closed her eyes and took a breath. This was not Drew’s fault. None of it was Drew’s fault. “I’m sorry, Drew. It’s been a long day.”

“Clearly.” He walked toward her, and she inhaled sharply. “Your face…there will be bruising around your eyes.” He stood directly in front of her and raised his hand until it cupped her cheek.

Surprisingly enough, she didn’t flinch. She stood there and silently reveled in the feel of his hand against her skin. Her muscles strained, even under his touch. She would not fear this. She longed for something to soothe her, something to stop her racing heart.

“Yes,” she agreed. His thumb gently traced the upper portion of her cheek. “I imagine there will be.”

“Why?” His gaze came back into hers. He looked ready to fight for her should she command it. But why?

Regardless, she didn’t care about Daniella and their altercation. Nor about the cuts and bruises on her face.

Her fingers seemed as though they were permanently digging into her palms, leaving crescent moons in her skin. Her fists shook with anger, frustration, and helplessness.

“Was my father—” She shook her head, unable to bring herself to finish the thought.

“What?” Drew pressed his lips together. He reached out to cup her cheek but dropped his hand down to his side.

Kelia almost hated herself for it. She didn’t need pity. She needed answers. Truthful answers. But was Drew Knight the appropriate person to ask? Would he even know?

He curled an errant strand of hair behind her ear and let his touch linger. “What’s wrong, Kelia? How can I help?”

He was so close to her, all he needed to do was lean down and touch lips with hers and they would be kissing.

She should not be thinking of such things, not when she had so many questions she felt compelled to ask. And yet, even now, she was exhausted at the prospect.

Before she was dismissed from the meeting, Rycroft informed her she had one night to gather her things before being moved to where this breeding program would begin. She knew it was a trap. She knew Rycroft wanted to control her even more than he already did.

However, she had a second reason for honoring the agreement he’d falsely led her into.

As much as it pained her to even entertain the notion that her father had anything to do with the program, she couldn’t help but wonder.

Also, if Wendy Parsons was a witch, and if The Society had her in its clutches, she would most likely be at the program. Kelia would be able to assist Drew by being in that program herself. She would be able to find her personally.

Her only concern, really, was keeping control over her role in the program. If she could, she wanted to help the girls that were already there as well.

As the rain hit her window with big, consistent drops, a memory of what Daniella had said in the council chambers tugged at her mind: Whoever you’re working for—if it’s still Drew Knight—has been lying to you.

“Tell me,” Kelia said, taking a step back. “Did my father create a breeding program as retribution for my mother’s death?”

Drew tilted his head to the side, and Kelia watched him carefully. She didn’t know him well, but she felt confident she knew him enough to be able to read his eyes.

“What do you mean?” he asked slowly.

Was he testing her to see what she knew, or was he genuinely curious as to what she meant?

She took a step toward her bed. She wanted to collapse into it and sleep for the next forty-eight hours. She wanted to rid herself of the responsibility she felt regarding Wendy Parsons and how her father might have been involved, wanted to cut ties with the Shadow before her. Her life had gotten twisted with his, like she was tangled in his web. But as much as she hated it, she still needed him.

“Let me start at the beginning,” she said. “Are you aware there is a breeding program? Where Shadows are bred with witches? Here, within The Society?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Yes, I was aware of that.”

Kelia nodded once, slowly. She shifted her weight and glanced at her boudoir. The basin of water had been filled with fresh water. She wondered who had been assigned her chore for this evening while she had been speaking with Rycroft.

“Were you aware my father created it?”

“I was aware he was in charge of it,” he said slowly, his words carefully chosen, probably like his food and his victims. He could corrupt with his eyes, without even trying if he wanted to. “I did not know he was the brains behind the operation, if that is true.”

There was a pulsing in Kelia's head, between her eyebrows. She could feel it start to beat rapidly, the beginning of a headache coming on.

Reaching out, she clutched the boudoir in front of her for support. So much had happened in just the past two hours; it was difficult for her to stand. Her back strained, as though the internal pain were emitting physically.

“Why would you keep such information from me?” she asked, opening her eyes to lock with his deep, brown ones.

They were beautiful, too beautiful for her to look at without feeling something inside of her stir. It was why she refrained from looking in them as often as she could. Now, though, those feelings differed.

“I did not think it was pertinent to what we were doing,” he said.

Kelia couldn’t be certain, but she swore guilt flashed in those eyes. But just as quickly as it reflected, it was gone.

Her eyes stung with tears. It had been so difficult to cry when her father had first died. She’d been triggered by something—she couldn’t even remember what it’d been now—but Drew had been there to envelope her in his arms, hold her tight, and never release her.

And now, he was the reason for these tears. Him, and her father. She didn’t know who or what to trust anymore.

“Another Sightless here said my father created the program to extract revenge on witches and Shadows. He wanted to see if he could create a monster, one he could control,” she said. Drew reached for a strand of hair and brushed it back from her face before she continued. “The girl said it was clear in his journal, but I have read that back and forth and can find no mention of it.”

Drew reached out once more to cup her face with his hand. Kelia wanted nothing more than to lean into his caress, but she stepped back.

“Don’t touch me,” she snapped. “Once more, you lied to me.”

“I did not lie,” Drew pointed out, though his voice was insistent, almost desperate for her to understand. “I kept something from you to—”

“To what?” she asked. “To protect me? What makes you think you have the right to offer such assistance? You are not my father nor my lover. You’re not even my friend! You have no claim on the decisions I make. And, more than that, what makes you think I need protecting? Why do you get to make that decision? Should it not be my choice?” She released her hold of the boudoir, then stepped back from him so he could not reach out and touch her again. “What I need protecting from is you.”

The rain got louder, tapping against the window more insistently. Most of the time, it calmed her nerves and allowed her to reframe any swimming thoughts that had gotten complicated and overwhelming. Tonight, however, there was nothing that would make her feel better.

She looked at Drew’s feet. There was a small puddle of water he had brought in from the storm. Evidence he would be leaving behind if she didn’t dry it off once he left. Every time he came into her life, he left a mess.

“Who is Wendy Parsons?” she asked him. “Why is she so important to you?”

Drew took a deep breath. Kelia wasn’t sure if he was deciding to trust her with the information or if he was trying to figure out the right words to say to get out of answering her. Not that it mattered. She sensed he was keeping something from her.

“Wendy Parsons is my sister,” he said finally. “She’s important to me because she is the only family I have left.”

“Oh.” The answer stunned Kelia to the point she almost lost sight of what was important to her. She steeled herself, crossing her arms. “I would ask if there was anything else you haven’t told me, but I wouldn’t believe you regardless of what answer you gave.”

In all honesty, she had never felt this brutal before. She’d always been decisive and cautious, but she didn’t remember being cold. It was as though something had switched inside of her. It was as though Drew had betrayed her about something too important to ignore.

She wouldn’t pretend he hadn’t hurt her. The pain pinched her skin and set fire to her blood just being near him. She almost wished he would make a meal of her—slit her throat with his fangs and drink her dry. It would be less painful than what she currently endured.

As it stood, she wanted Drew out of her room, and gone from Port George completely. She wanted him far away from her, where not even the memories could get to her. Where he refrained from even visiting her dreams and making her feel things completely beyond her control.

“You are angry with me,” Drew stated. There seemed to be a look of confusion on his chiseled face.

“Angry with you?” she nearly growled. What was he not understanding? Couldn’t he see how obviously infuriating it was that he had withheld something so important from her? “I’m not angry, Drew. I’m furious.”

With two long strides, he was in front of her, his hands gently gripping her arms. “Be careful with your tone,” Drew said. “You have taken great care to ensure you are back in the good graces of The Society.”

Kelia scoffed. Her entire body was rigid, but she didn’t pull away from him. “Do you think I care about them anymore?” she asked. “Do you think I care about pleasing them? They already have their plans for me. What I do now will neither hinder nor help me.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked, his voice tight.

She’d never been one for games, but there was a part of her that wanted nothing more than to make him suffer, to drag this out.

Not that it mattered.

If he didn’t trust her with pertinent information, there was no point in prolonging information he would find out anyway. He didn’t care enough about her, didn’t respect her enough, to let her know the truth: the truth about who Wendy Parsons was and her importance to him, the truth about her father and the terrible man he was turning out to be.

“The breeding program.” Her voice cracked. Perhaps she was not as okay with her decision as she wanted everyone to think. “Rycroft has assigned me to it.”

She didn’t think it was possible, but the color drained from Drew’s face. He had always been pale, but now he looked sickly. Like death.

“What?” His voice was sharp, a needle in thick cloth. His eyes were daggers, never leaving her own. His chin was tight, barely moving at all even when he spoke.

“The breeding pro—”

“Yes,” he snapped.

She watched with awed fascination as his fangs extracted from his mouth and slid over his bottom lip. Her heart pounded against her chest.

“I heard you,” he said. “I heard you, but I do not understand.”

“Rycroft said that, to refrain from punishing me after my confrontation with Daniella, I could volunteer to join the program.”

“Did you not refuse?”

She shot him a look. “You do not refuse Ashton Rycroft,” she said. “My back has the scars to prove he does not take rebellion kindly.”

He flinched at the mention of the scars on her back. “I have balm,” he said, “back on the ship.” Slowly, his fangs began to retract. It was good that Kelia saw them, however. She needed the reminder that he was not human, but a monster wearing a human’s skin. “I can get it for you.”

“I do not wish to see you again,” she said. She looked out her window, on the rain rolling down the glass. “Ever.” She shot her gaze to meet his to show how serious she was. “Stop helping me. Stop doing me favors. I have found Wendy Parsons for you. She is here. Please go.”

“Kelia–”

“No.” She clenched her jaw. “The use of my name is only for those who I am friendly with. I do not wish to be friendly with you anymore.”

Drew opened his mouth before shutting it. He took a step toward her, then fell back.

“I will go,” he agreed. “I will go. But I promise you, Kelia, I will get you out of the breeding program. I will get you away from The Society. I will protect you. Mark me.”

“I do not need or desire your protection,” she said. “The only person I can depend on is myself.” She squared her shoulders to the window once more. “Now, go. And do not come back.”

This time, Drew did not hesitate. He was gone, and although that was what she had asked for, part of her ached that she would never see him again, not with her transfer into the breeding program.

16

Drew Knight was not one for sentimentalities. He even refused to say his sister’s name only because he did not like to be reminded of how much he had failed her.

The night rain soaked through his pressed outfit, his dark hair matted to his face. Most of his crew was currently on land. They loved any excuse to return to a life they had once been part of. Now they stood on the outside, looking in and resenting all human life privy to such a gift.

The deck was so sleek with rain, his feet slid a bit, squeaking as he walked, and he paid mind to his steps so as not to slip. No matter how graceful and balanced he was, no matter how quick he healed, this was hard and fierce rain, and he did not want to contend with the ramifications of being careless whilst in it.

There would be no reprieve tonight, and other pirates would be aware of that, would plan to strike at any sign of weakness, making even a momentary slip more of a danger than it would be normally.

He closed his eyes, the patter against the wood playing a song one could only hear in nature. He sighed at the soft lull of the waves, contrasting with the fierce beat of the rain.

The problem was, Drew could not focus on the beauty of his surroundings. The cold pinched his skin—something he hardly felt anymore. In fact, he felt worse upon hearing what Kelia had agreed to do than anything else.

That blasted girl, he thought to himself. How dare she…?

Anger could not even begin to describe how he felt. His eyes remain closed, making his sharpened hearing even clearer.

How could she let herself be taken to such a vile place, and then dismiss him and any help he could offer?

She had paid for that information. The Slayer Daniella had done damage to Kelia. The fact anyone dared lay a hand on her was enough to arouse his ire. He didn’t care if her abuser was man, woman, human, or Shadow. If anyone touched Kelia, there was this instinct to make them pay.

“You’re more stoic than usual,” a voice said, coming up behind him.

“I’m surprised to see you out in the rain, Christopher,” Drew said with a sarcastic smile. “Are you not concerned about how it affects your hair?”

“You’re in a particularly biting mood.” A lock of his blond hair dark fell into his face. “Visit the Slayer, then? Oh, I apologize. She’s not technically a Slayer anymore, is she? She’s been reduced to a forgotten human, serving corrupt men and women while they promote violence against innocent beings that never asked to be turned.”

Drew wanted to turn around and punch the Infant in the face just for talking about her that way. Instead, he gripped the side of the ship. He needed to focus his anger and frustration on something, and if Christopher was not careful, Drew had no problem placing that focus on Christopher.

“How did they do it?” Drew found himself asking. He needed to change the subject or else he was going to lose his temper. He’d promised himself he’d let Christopher come to him about it on his own, but he couldn’t take not knowing any longer. “How did The Society change you?”

Christopher frowned. “Who said it was The Society? They played a role, certainly, but I was delivered to the Queen by Sea Demons for a hefty sum. She turned me but, considering I was not you, she sent me back to The Society. I was made to kill Kelia. That’s all I was good for.”

Drew snorted, but his heart was not in it. He was not sure how he felt about that response. It wasn’t Christopher’s fault; he hadn’t asked for this life. His answer, however, explained why he wasn’t as beastly as the other Shadows The Society had created.

“When was the last time you ate?” Christopher asked, glancing over at Drew. “When was the last time you fucked?”

“What business is it of yours?” Drew snapped.

“I found when my fiancée did not eat, she would get especially angry,” he said. “I took it upon myself to ensure she was always fed. I figured you might share similar personas.” He shrugged, looking away from Drew and to the sea.

“Perhaps I do need to feed,” Drew said after a moment.

He didn’t like to admit Christopher might be right, but it could be helpful to sharpen his senses and focus on what he came to Port George to do in the first place. Which was most certainly not to meet Kelia. But he had, and there was no changing it.

Feeding would get his mind off the woman and hopefully prevent him from feeling anything more than he already did for her. It was already too much.

Drew found himself closer to Kelia and The Society than he would have liked. However, he couldn’t be especially picky about his next meal only because it was raining and most of the population would be in their homes, huddling up near the fire, trying to keep warm.

He passed The Society’s fortress as he made his way toward the heart of the town, where taverns and shops were closing. He couldn’t resist glancing up where he knew all the dormitories were, wondering if Kelia was still awake after their heated discussion.

The more animalistic part of him wanted nothing more than to return to her room, to look deep into her eyes and kiss her the way he had wanted to.

He was frustrated about how things ended between them tonight. He wanted to explain, to have her trust him again. However, he didn’t regret keeping her from the knowledge about her father. It was not prudent to their initial partnership, and he didn’t think it was relevant now.

Greg Starling made a terrible decision, and even he had eventually realized his mistake. He was killed because of that realization. At least, that was Drew’s guess.

He stopped walking to stare up at the looming black fortress. It looked more ominous now in the rain than it did under normal circumstances.

He wanted to wrap himself in the frustratingly stubborn Slayer and feed from her. But he knew such a thing would never happen. Not after what just transpired. He didn’t think she would find it in her to trust him after everything that had happened, and he couldn’t blame her for that.

He shook his head and crept toward The Scarlet Wench. He needed to rid his mind of the Sea Slayer. She was starting to become a weakness, and it was affecting his decision-making.

The Scarlet Wench was always populated by the worst of the worst. Emma liked to frequent this tavern only because she was able to pick up the juiciest bit of gossip from whores with big mouths and small pockets. Money could buy everything nowadays. It was also filled with women who were searching for a husband, desperate to feel loved and wanted.

Drew hated taking advantage of them, but he also found they were the most willing; they often tended not to recognize him or pretended not to if they did. He also had the best opportunity to make them forget he was even there, replacing their encounters with  memories of a blissful, romantic evening.

When he entered, a couple of women looked at him with lust. He had always known he was attractive; being a Sea Shadow only added to his beauty. He took advantage of his good looks when he was hungry and needed to feed. It was easier to charm women who wanted to be charmed by him than force a conversation with a woman who wanted to be left alone.

He typically took more time to select potential mates to ensure he picked the right person for the right moment. However, his feelings from earlier conflicted with the demand to feed, and he found himself wrapped up in a heated conversation with a woman who had blonde hair and colorful green eyes. He would not admit it out loud, but she reminded him greatly of Kelia, and he allowed himself, just for the moment, to pretend it was.

She was not as pretty as Kelia, but no one really was—at least, not in his mind. The woman was also much more flirtatious than Kelia would ever be, much more physical, much more open.

Keepers, he missed Kelia. And it had only been a few hours.

He curled his fingers around her cutlass. He kept it with him, even now. He probably should have given it back to her long ago, but he rationalized she would have nowhere to store it, and if The Society got wind of the cutlass, she might get punished worse than she already had been. However, its presence at his side reassured him, made him feel content.

It was not even an hour before he had charmed his victim, and they headed up to a room. Just because he had the ability to wipe memories did not mean he wanted to take advantage of anyone. He used to challenge himself to find women drawn to him rather than using his abilities to seduce them into believing they wanted him.

Some Shadows, even those in his crew, thought that those who resisted and posed more of a challenge were more fun to hunt. Those Shadows sometimes forgot that when a woman said no, it meant no. Drew could not forbid intimacy, but rape was prohibited.

When they got to the quaint room, the woman shut the door and led him to a small wooden chair rather than the nearby bed. Drew sat, and she placed a leg on either side of him, straddling his lap.

It was not long before her mouth was on his, her body pushed against his chest. Her generous bosom was already on display, her breasts freed from their confines.

Such contact gave him no pleasure. It wasn’t even because he was a Shadow and no longer alive. He just didn’t wish to do this with her, and only did it because he had to. Because he needed to eat. He also hoped being inside another woman, being wrapped up in someone else, would be enough to forget about Kelia, even temporarily.

Once the woman—he didn’t know her name even though he was sure she had told it to him—had feasted on his lips and his neck, she stripped him of his clothes. He let her suck his skin, let her leave marks all over his body. After what he intended to do to her, he could at least agree to this reprieve.

They kissed as they moved to the bed, and when their bodies connected, he lost himself in the physical pleasure. His hands ran up and down her body, except instead of voluptuous curves, he saw a more modest figure, curvy but lean, with some muscle on her petite frame. Instead of a heavily made up face, he saw a plain face, but much more beautiful. He saw freckles on her nose, a strong chin, and scars up and down her glorious back.

He saw Kelia, beautiful and perfect. He saw her yearn for him, desire him, just the way he desired her. He heard her moan his name, heard her lose her breath. He felt her nails running down his back and claiming him as her own. He saw all this clearly in his mind, that when he finally came, he shouted Kelia’s name.

The woman shrieked and began swatting at him. It took a moment for him to realize his mistake as she shoved him off her. He fell to the side of the bed, staring up at the ceiling, not quite sure how he had let himself get so lost in the moment. Surely the poor woman had not desired to hear another woman’s name, but Drew hadn’t intended to offend her.

His fangs slid out of his mouth painfully as the woman threw on her clothes and stormed out of the room.

One thing was certain—he hadn’t fed the way he intended to. He had barely finished his orgasm.

What the bloody hell had he been thinking?

He glanced around the small room, perfect for a traveling sailor. The rain beat against the window. It was much louder and more insistent here than in Kelia’s room.

“Damn that woman,” he muttered to himself.

She had crawled underneath his protective armor like a termite, taking him down from the inside. How had this happened? He didn’t even believe she’d intended for him to feel this way. Clearly not, by the way she conveyed wanting absolutely nothing to do with him earlier in the evening.

However, he couldn’t ignore the way Kelia made him act. Made him think. Made him feel. He couldn’t deny it any longer.

Now that Drew acknowledged he cared for Kelia more than he cared for almost anyone, he was faced with the dilemma of figuring out what to do about it.

17

Kelia didn’t sleep much that night. Dread coiled inside of her at the prospect of being part of a terrifying program meant to condemn both witches and Sea Shadows. Only a monster like Rycroft would use that as a punishment against her. Her bitterness at finding out her father was not the man she thought he was didn’t help matters either. But neither of those were what kept her awake.

No, it was her rage at Drew Knight.

The fact she was this passionate at all infuriated her even more; she should not be feeling such things for Shadows, let alone the most infamous Shadow of all.

The rain pounded against the glass window, and it didn’t sound as though it would let up anytime soon. Kelia didn’t mind. She felt at peace with the weather. It appeared the sky was going through its own turmoil, and she couldn’t help but sympathize.

She tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable enough to drift off. When she did feel her body relax, she was interrupted by her incessant thoughts, raging at Drew Knight about how he kept such information from her. She shouldn’t have been surprised. He withheld information about The Society, withheld information about Wendy Parsons and who she was to him, and withheld information about her father.

In truth, there wasn’t much that he did tell her.

Each time she thought about it, her eyes burned with tears, and she tried to blink them away before they fell. She didn’t even know why she was crying anymore.

The storm was still going on outside when the grandfather clock down the hall chimed, indicating it was six in the morning. Was it really morning already? The sky was dreary and grey, nearly black, and the rain continued to pour.

As she pulled herself from bed, her entire body screamed with exhaustion. Why did she have to be hit with the ability to sleep now that she was required to wake up? She’d had the whole night to sleep and hadn’t been able to.

She changed into a plain grey dress and black slippers. Rycroft had not instructed her what she could take and what she had to leave. As such, she decided to pack light and brought out only a couple of dresses and a couple of slippers. She didn’t have very many things at all, but she had her father’s journal, and she didn’t know what to do with it.

If she turned it over to The Society, they would know that she knew what was really going on. But taking it with her would put her more at risk. There was no place for her to hide the book on her person, and her luggage would certainly be checked before she was officially admitted. The only place she could think to place it was stuffed back in the book she received the journal in months ago, but just because they allowed her to bring that book here, didn’t mean she’d be allowed to bring it to the breeding program.

At that moment, there was a gentle knock on her door. She glanced over, pursing her lips. It was too early in the morning for any of her fellow Slayers to be knocking, and typically bonding was not permitted between the Sightless. She quickly grabbed The White Whale from under her pillow and shoved the journal inside it before dropping the book on top of her luggage.

Please let that work.

She padded to the door, grabbing her shawl from her wardrobe and sliding it on her shoulders. When she opened the door, Abigail stood in the hallway, already dressed in a black and white dress, her hair pulled back with white ribbon.

“You’ve packed?” Her voice was strained.

“I thought I had another hour before I was due at the square,” she replied, turning back to her room and her things. She didn’t invite Abigail in, but she also didn’t shut the door.

If Kelia was being honest, she was not quite sure how she felt about Abigail. There were times Kelia felt as though Abigail understood her, understood the ridiculousness of The Society, how unfair they were. She was a Sightless after all. She had to have done something to be stripped of being a Slayer.

“I’m not here to comment on your tardiness,” Abigail murmured.

Abigail’s boots clipped on the tile, hesitant to step in. The door clicked shut, and Kelia turned, surprised to find Abigail straightening any wrinkles on her dress. Kelia didn’t think there were any present but it didn’t stop Abigail from trying.

“Then why are you here?” Kelia asked boldly. She knew she was being rude, but she didn’t care. What worse punishment than a breeding program could there be?

She had ruminated long and hard during the evening. Her anger for Drew Knight persisted, certainly, but there was more to it. She realized she was now worth absolutely nothing to this place. She was not a Slayer; she was not even a Sightless anymore. If her worst assumptions were to be believed, she was a piece of property, an animal, to be bred with what The Society considered the vilest beings on this earth.

She didn’t care what she said or did, or if it would get her in trouble or if it would offend anyone. She was tired of watching her movements, of holding her face with a cool look of indifference when all she wanted to do was react. If she could not redeem herself, if there was no other way to reinstate her Slayer privileges, why try at all? Why be something for someone who didn’t want her?

Kelia picked at the sleeve of her dress. Too bad she couldn’t just run away. Her opportunity for that was long gone. Though, had she left when she’d had the chance, she wouldn’t know the truth now.

And she still didn’t know everything. Still didn’t know why her father was killed. More than that, regardless of her frustration with Drew, she felt responsible for Wendy and every other Slayer imprisoned here. Her father created this place. Maybe there was some way she could help them. Maybe there was some way she could help Wendy and redeem her father, if only a little.

Abigail didn’t move past Kelia’s boudoir. Maybe because Abigail hadn’t officially been invited in or maybe there was something else that kept her from closing the distance. Abigail was typically strong and sure, but despite the same fire in her dark eyes, her posture today was weak. Timid.

“Well?” Kelia persisted, walking to her wardrobe and opening the doors. She was nearly done packing everything in the case on her bed, careful to keep the book hidden from Abigail’s view.

Abigail played with her fingers before glancing away with an exasperated sigh. It almost sounded as though she didn’t know if she should tell Kelia whatever it was that was on her mind. Kelia didn’t care one way or the other. All she wanted was the last few minutes of freedom to herself before she would be condemned to this sick breeding program.

“There’s something you should know,” Abigail said, glancing to the door, as though she was afraid someone might be listening on the other side. “About the breeding program Rycroft is sending you to.”

“I already know my father created and implemented the program,” Kelia said, her voice tinged with frustration. “What more could you possibly have to say about it?”

Abigail clutched her chest with her hand. Was it a sincere reaction or was Abigail pretending? Either way, Kelia was not impressed. She turned back to the clothes on her bed and began to fold them up.

Abigail slid her hands down her sides. “I… I didn’t know that.”

Kelia dropped her gaze and started picking at the material of her skirt. There was probably a lot of things Abigail didn’t know.

“What do you want?” Kelia asked.

“Why do you have a tone?” Abigail took a step toward Kelia. “You chose to participate in the program. You could have said no.”

Kelia snorted. “Said no? To Rycroft?” she said. She wouldn’t bother entertaining the idea beyond that. “The tone is because I’m bitter. Bitter, and resentful. All these months I’ve been a Sightless, biting my tongue, controlling my anger, masking my feelings, just so I can figure out why anyone from The Society would want to kill my father. And now, I found out that he created a program so vile, so hateful, I am at a loss as to why he was not killed sooner. But that’s not even why he was killed, was it?”

Abigail looked away, her face filled with shame. “He loved you very much, Kelia.”

“You don’t need to tell me that.” Kelia stopped flicking through her minimal wardrobe and curled her fingers into fists, trying to control her anger. Her hands shook with a variety of emotion that not even digging her nails into her palms could stop. “My father loved me, certainly, but that doesn’t mean he was a good person. A love for his daughter does not erase his wicked crimes.” She scrunched her face. “And who are you to tell me such a thing anyway?”

“Your father confided in me,” Abigail murmured. “We… I…” She turned, strolling to the window. “I was in love with your father, but he was still committed to your mother. To you. I could not fault him for his feelings. He’d always been clear where we stood, he and I.” She looked over her shoulder at Kelia and gave her a watery smile. “I take it you received his journal?”

Kelia glanced at her bed. The book still sat on top of her luggage, hidden by the new clothes she received.

“That was you?” she asked slowly.

Abigail nodded, pressing her lips together. “Not directly,” she said. “But, after my promotion, I was given the responsibility of assigning the Sightless their daily tasks. As such, I instructed Daniella to take it to your room before anyone could find it and dispose of the damning evidence.”

“Daniella read it,” Kelia said.

Another nod. “She did.”

“Which is why we exchanged blows. You never should have let her read that!”

“Daniella knows things, yes,” Abigail said. “It’s partly why she is and will always remain a Sightless. I took those pages because I worried how you might react. But Daniella still got to them and had a reaction of her own.”

Kelia’s head snapped to Abigail, and her entire body froze. Kelia no longer knew how to breathe—something she had been fully capable of the second she was brought into this world. But now, in this moment, something as natural as breathing had completely vanished from her abilities.

That must have been why Daniella assumed Kelia knew more about her father than she did. Perhaps she didn’t realize Kelia had gotten the journal after the fact. Or perhaps she assumed Kelia just knew all these things—as if her father had told her, and she had been somehow privy to what was going on.

But that didn’t mean Daniella was right about what she said—did it? Until Kelia read the pages for herself, she refused to judge her father that way.

Before Kelia could respond, Abigail continued, “Your father had only kept that journal just in case.”

“In case what?”

“You know what,” Abigail said, a touch of longing in her soft voice. She looked to the journal. Kelia almost felt as though she was witnessing something she should not, stepping in between two lovers when they communicated solely with their eyes. Then, shaking her head as though she was forced from a trance, Abigail redirected her attention to Kelia. “The Society is built on lies posed as absolutes. We are taught never to question, taught to see through a carefully crafted reality. Your father crafted his own reality in that journal. He recorded as much of the truth as he could.”

“And then you removed pages.” Kelia flung the accusation like a dagger.

The morning rain pattered harder on the window.

“To protect you.” Abigail’s fingers went back to picking at the skirt on her dress. “You did not need to know what he did. If anything, he did it for your mother. For you.”

“And now look at what his creation is to do to me.” Kelia couldn’t help but grin at the utter absurdity of it all. It was a foreign gesture in a bleak atmosphere. Her smile did not bring sun. It brought exhaustion. It brought irony. It brought everything but joy. She cleared her voice. “How did Daniella find them? The missing pages?”

“She came to my office to deliver something and poked around, as she is wont to do,” Abigail said in a growl. “She has special abilities that help her find things even she does not know actually exist.”

Kelia continued to pack her clothes until her suitcase was full. Finally, she took the book from her case and sauntered over to Abigail.

“Perhaps you should take it,” she said, handing the journal to her handler.

Abigail’s mouth went slack. As she reached out, Kelia was certain she was going to take the journal from her, but at the last moment, she dropped her hand and whipped it behind her back.

“I could not,” she said. Her eyes were filled with sadness and…something else. Something Kelia couldn’t quite decipher. “The journal was meant for you. Every piece of it. Even these.” She reached her hand in the pocket of her dress and pulled out two sheets of parchment.

“And what am I to do with these?” Kelia asked. She dropped the arm holding the journal to her side, then reached out to take the parchment. They felt crisp and delicate, stiff with secrets. She had to restrain her excitement at holding these in her hands. She didn’t want Abigail to see how badly she wanted them.

“Read them,” Abigail said, her focus still on the parchment. “Or don’t. But they are yours. They belonged to your father. They were his words and no one else’s.”

Kelia slid the missing pages between the worn leather cover of the journal. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means everyone here has their own reality of what the truth is,” Abigail said. “Your father wrote down his truth. I have another, and I’m sure Rycroft himself has one. Truth is not a tangible thing.” She took a breath. Her voice was softer than the wind that began to pick up outside. “It is my opinion that you should read your father’s own words and understand his truth. You don’t have to agree with it, but at least he is telling you this himself. In his own words.”

Kelia stepped forward. “You’ve known all this time. Why tell me now? Why steal those pages in the first place if they were meant for me?”

“I thought I was protecting you.” Abigail looked away. “But now…now I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again, and I couldn’t live out the rest of my days without honoring your father’s dying wishes. Perhaps then, I—you—can finally be free of the burden he left you with. The burden of never truly knowing the truth.”

Kelia didn’t know what to say. Perhaps it would help figure out why he was killed. She wouldn’t tell Abigail that, however. It almost felt as though there was more to the story, more than what Abigail was revealing.

“Thank you,” Kelia said.

Abigail’s eyes filled with such sorrow that Kelia looked away. She didn’t need to be assaulted with such sadness when she was warring with her own distinct emotions, swirling up inside of her like a wind storm.

“Please,” Abigail said, her voice teetering on the brink of desperation. “Don’t thank me. Your father would have wanted you to have it.”

With those words, she took long strides and all but slammed the door behind her. Perhaps the wind gave it an extra push.

Kelia raised the journal. She was almost compelled to leave it behind, just as she wanted to leave her father. But she had a feeling she would not be free from his ghost until she got to the bottom of the truth—whatever that was.

18

Drew Knight had never been more embarrassed in his life. He had made love to countless women. Being alive for a century would do that to anyone, let alone a handsome beast with envious stamina and a fondness for bringing pleasure to himself and the women he was with. He might not remember faces or names, he might not remember the pleasure or the aftermath, but he knew without a doubt he had never ever called his lover any other name but her own.

That he had shouted Kelia’s name during his climax was enough to cause his blood to boil and his dead heart to flicker with frustration.

He had not even fed, so when he returned to the ship, he was hungry and angry, and anyone who dared tempt him would be ripped to shreds. He was still considering if such a statement was literal or figurative.

He found no solace in retiring, and it was still too early in the evening to expect any of his crew to return. Drew was alone with just his thoughts, and that was not somewhere he wanted to be.

He decided to turn his back on the town, on the fortress, and on Kelia. Instead, he focused on the sea. The rain created ripples in the gentle water, the dark overcast sky painting the ocean an ugly shade of black. Sirens would be returning to their circle of hell—they could not lure sailors to their deaths over the delicate sound of the rain.

He clenched his jaw just thinking of sirens. They were the worst sort of witches, condemned to the sea by his Queen.

Thinking of her, he spat over the side of the ship. The vampire Queen, the first of their kind, created the sea demons to control the seas. If he did not loathe her with every fiber of his being, he might have given her credit for her brilliance. The woman was smart and sinister, selfish and sensual. She was everything evil and wretched in the world, hidden behind a mask of perfection.

And she was beautiful. Too beautiful to be considered real. Which was how she lured her own victims.

Drew had a similar sort of beauty. It was why the Queen was drawn to him in the first place. Being turned had only enhanced his beauty, making him more alluring to potential victims.

He sneered down at his blurry image in the ocean. Unlike most rumors about Sea Shadows, he could see his reflection. He tended to avoid it, though, now that he was a monster. But the more time he spent with Kelia, the more he found opportunity to redeem himself for all his wicked deeds.

She was his saving grace, and he clung to that notion the way he wished he could cling to her.

“I take it you heard the news?” Emma asked, appearing out of nowhere. Perhaps she had traveled from the docks to his ship by boat as she usually did, and he hadn’t noticed because he’d been too consumed with his own thoughts.

“Why are you here?” Drew did not shift his eyes from the surface of the ocean. “You hate the rain.”

“You know why.” Her voice was soft, nothing more than words whispered in the wind and nearly drowned by the patter of the rain.

Christopher made his way on deck. “Weren’t you going to feed, Knight?” He looked at Emma. “I’m not sure what you do, and I don’t think I want to ask even if I do have my suspicions.”

“What are you doing here?” Drew asked, turning his frustration to Christopher. “I thought you were going to feed.”

“I did,” Christopher said with a shrug. “Damn doe didn’t see it coming.”

Emma’s eyebrows pulled together. “You fed on an animal?”

Christopher turned to Emma, hands on his hips. “Just because I’m supposed to feed on human blood doesn’t mean I have to,” he said. “And I certainly don’t want to. I didn’t ask to be this thing. When that demon sea witch brought me to that bitch, I don’t ever remember being asked one way or the other.”

“I thought the sea witch tried to save you,” Drew said.

Emma came up beside Drew. “Might we take this conversation belowdeck?” she asked through her teeth. “I would appreciate having a serious discussion out of the rain.”

They shuffled down the wooden staircase and found their way to the galley. The ship was built by expert craftsmen. No rain leaked through the deck, preventing any unnecessary water damage from occurring, though Drew still needed to have his ship repaired due to the fact he’d owned it for over two decades now.

The galley—a large room with no window—held wooden tables and benches, all nailed into the floor. This place was for eating and eating alone. Despite Shadows needing blood to stay alive, they still had the ability to consume, digest, and derive pleasure from food. Drew even employed a chef who cooked one meal a day—a morning meal for the crew to settle down with, just before they rested for the day.

Christopher plopped down, a large puddle underneath his stocky frame. Emma had her arms around her body, too stubborn to change if nobody else did. Drew stood at the head of the table, where he typically sat during morning meals.

“So,” Christopher drawled, placing his ankle on his knee and leaning back in his chair. “What’s this all about? What news do you speak of?” He directed his gaze at Emma even though the question itself seemed to be asked for either Drew or Emma to answer.

Drew paced the galley, his feet squishing in his wet boots, his chin tucked into his chest and  his hands behind his back.

Emma cleared her throat. “It would seem our Slayer has gotten herself in a bit of a situation.”

“Volunteered herself into the situation,” Drew snarled before he could stop himself. He sidestepped the rather large puddle Christopher had left and turned around, too fueled by his anger to slow down.

All he could see was Kelia, coming back from Rycroft with the news that she was going to be part of the breeding program. A program her father created. A program where she would be raped repeatedly by Sea Shadows that had been turned by the hands of The Society for some nefarious purpose. Her lips curled into a sneer, and her eyes filled with hurt and betrayal—not with her father or the fact her image of him was now tarnished, but at Drew himself because he had withheld it from her.

“Situation?” Christopher rubbed his hands together. “What situation is it that is so bleak?”

“The breeding program…” Emma grabbed her wet hair, then wrung it so a small puddle of water dropped to the wood floor. “She volunteered for it. Drew is not pleased.”

“Are you serious?” Christopher asked. “This is brilliant news.”

“What?” Drew’s voice was so strained, the sound of it came out sharp and precise. He forced himself to sit down.

Christopher stretched his legs out in front of him. “Brilliant,” he repeated. “She might find Wendy there.”

Drew slapped his hands on the wood of the desk. The sound reverberated off the wood like thunder.

“Is that all you are concerned about? Your betrothed?”

“And your sister.”

At that, Drew rose back to his full height, and Christopher stood to meet the unspoken challenge. He was taller than Drew, and filled with nearly as much muscle. Even so, Drew had much more power than Christopher would ever possess.

“You should be as happy as I for a chance to get her back,” Christopher said slowly. “I sailed across an ocean to do one last task for the damn East India Company, because once I did that damn task, I would be free to wed the love of my life.”

“Of course I want to find Wendy,” Drew said, each word enunciated with tightness, like tuning guitar strings. “But I do not like sacrificing one life in order to attain another.”

“Wendy is your sister. Who cares who else is at risk when it means she could be freed? Your Slayer could help.”

“And how is she supposed to do that, hmm?” Drew walked toward Christopher, each footstep making a loud squeak on the floor. “Wendy is a bloody witch and even she cannot use her own powers to free herself. How do you expect a human to do such a thing?”

“There’s more to this, isn’t there?” Christopher stood directly in front of Drew, looking down at him. “The Drew Knight I know wouldn’t care one way or the other about human life. He takes what he wants. He gives nothing back. He makes no apologies for who and what he is. And if someone does him wrong, he seeks revenge without blinking a damn eye.”

“The man you speak of is nothing more than an exaggeration,” Drew said. “A bedtime story to warn little children.”

“You’re telling me you didn’t enjoy feasting on blood and tearing out flesh?”

“You know nothing about me,” Drew snarled. “You, the same man who refuses to feed on humans.” He spat in disgust. “My sister loves you, but that does not mean I have to like you. And if I do not wish for Kelia to be in the predicament she is in, not only due to the risk it poses to her but also to my sister, then that is my right. You need not agree with my feelings, but you are not to question my decisions as captain of this ship.”

Drew touched the hilt of Kelia’s blade, hanging from his left hip. Instantly, his emotions settled.

The wind whipped the sails, sliding against the cloth. The ship groaned, being pushed by the strength of the elements.

“You’re in love with her,” Christopher said softly.

Emma snapped her gaze up like lightning flashing against the sky. “Easy,” she said.

“Why?” He chuckled. “It’s the truth, is it not?” He turned his attention back to Drew. “Regardless of your claim about being an innocent, compassionate Sea Shadow, I know you. Perhaps I have not had personal experience with you until now, but I know you through your sister’s eyes. You are a monster. A nice one, but still a monster. You fuck and kill, and you make no apologies for it. You scare children. You scare the piss out of grown adults. And yet this one woman reduces you to a puddle like the one beneath my feet.”

There was no disgust or judgment in Christopher’s tone. Drew wasn’t sure what it was, but it almost seemed like understanding.

“I didn’t know Drew Knight could love,” the man concluded.

Drew clenched his teeth, hoping that would keep his fangs at bay. He was hungry, and it fried his patience.

“You need to eat,” Emma said, as though reading his mind. And perhaps, as a witch, she could.

“Your contact on the inside...” Drew said to Emma. “Did she tell you anything else? Anything at all? When is Kelia set to leave for the program?”

“I spoke with her a few hours ago,” Emma murmured. “She is supposedly incapacitated because she and Kelia got into a physical altercation—”

For a moment, Drew forgot about Christopher, and about what Christopher had surmised. “Your contact was the person who fought Kelia?”

Drew waited. Emma said nothing.

Drew spun away and stomped down the long space of the galley. He ran his fingers through his hair, pulling at the roots as if they were weeds. He needed the physical pain to distract him from the anger sailing through his bloodstream.

“I have been training her in the mystical arts,” Emma explained. “I selected her as my protégé, and she has exceeded my expectations. She gets her abilities from her mother’s line—it’s typically stronger when it’s matrilineal.”

“What makes you think I care about her?” Drew asked.

“Considering she has fed us valuable information regarding Kelia, including where her new room was and how she was holding up as a Sightless, I’d say you better care very much.” Emma took one step toward Drew, a look on her face that left no room for argument. “You need to feed. I know for a fact you were in The Scarlet Wench with a whore and led her upstairs. But nothing transpired. Or something did but was interrupted. Something happened.”

Drew grunted. “It is none of your business.”

“It is when you’re snapping at everyone, ready to feast on your allies,” Emma said defiantly.

If he did not respect her so much, Drew would have ripped her throat out for speaking to him that way.

“Right now, Kelia is not in the sort of danger that requires a choice between life and death,” Emma said. Drew opened his mouth to interject, but she kept going. “However, she will get violated. And violently. She will be broken, beaten, and fed on, like a sack of meat providing only life’s essentials: reproduction and sustenance.”

Drew growled. A loud rumble of thunder shook the ship.

“Something must be done.” Emma turned her attention to Christopher. “We have been trying to rescue Wendy since we found out she had been taken by The Society. We do not know what state she will be in if she is, indeed, also in the breeding program. It is beneficial that Kelia is there for Wendy’s sake. However, my contact has no access, and we will be unable to assist Kelia, or Wendy for that matter, unless we wish to give away our location. It would put us all at risk, including Wendy and Kelia.”

“We will not leave them,” Drew said. “We left once and—” His voice hitched, images of crimson ribbons seeping out of Kelia’s back flashing in his mind.

The window lit up with lightning before turning to charcoal once more.

“We will get them back.” He turned to Emma. “This time, I will take Kelia away from here. Whether she wants it or not.”

“Even if it risks your freedom?” Emma pressed. “Even if it risks your crew?”

19

The transfer was immediate. Almost instantly after Abigail fled, men Kelia had never seen before took her luggage and led her outside.

Kelia was careful to avoid stepping in the dirt still wet from the night’s storm. She only had one pair of slippers, and she didn’t want to muddy them up. A chill ran through her thin clothing, and she suppressed a shudder.

The clouds were high, dark grey, a silent threat of what was to come. Another storm. They walked past wooden stables where horses were normally kept. The wood was faded and old, with rusted nails sticking out in odd directions.

From where Kelia walked under the concrete awning, the stables had no animals. There were six of them, three on each side, with a small mattress in every stable. The mattresses were swollen with rain water, and the scent of mold floated in the air.

The vicious growl of dogs pierced the silence as they prowled just outside the perimeter of land—a threat to anyone thinking of an escape. Men, Kelia was not afraid of. Trained attack dogs? She’d seen what those dogs could do during her time as a Slayer, and she did not want to take that chance.

She didn’t bother asking where she was being led to—these men would say nothing to her. She was filth, no better than the mud on their boots. Instead, she bit her tongue and squared her shoulders. Just because her heart hammered against her chest didn’t mean everyone needed to know about her fear.

The Slayers reached a separate barn, leaving the fortress behind. The barn was not painted, just a dark wood put together by inexperienced Slayers better with their minds than their hands. Kelia eyed the unstable barn. She wasn’t sure if she would rather muddy up her slippers and stand outside in the oncoming storm or take her chances inside.

“Here.” A Slayer stopped abruptly just in front of the door. “I almost forgot. You’ll need this.”

From his back pocket, he pulled out what appeared to be a leather scrap. A belt, maybe? But it was too small to be a belt.

Kelia understood what it was the minute he tossed it to his partner, still behind Kelia, who slapped it across her throat and snapped it in place.

It’s a collar.

“Don’t take it off,” the second one said from behind her. “Not that you’ll be able to. It’s locked on now.”

The two Slayers started to walk forward again, but Kelia’s feet seemed cemented in place. Had they just collared her? Like an animal?

“Well?” One of the Slayers turned to glare at her over his shoulder. “Are you coming or not? Looks like it’s going to rain at any moment, and I’d like to be back in my room if I can help it.”

He took a large key from his trousers and opened a large lock hanging from the doorknob. Once it popped open, chains slid through and clattered to the ground.

Kelia was forced to trudge through mud to cross the path. As she entered the barn, she was slapped with an onslaught of aromas: feces, piss, blood, and something else. A scent she didn’t recognize.

The sheer strength of the stench stopped her in her tracks. She placed her hand over her stomach as she took a deep breath with her mouth. Her stomach churned, and she nearly curled over right there. It was as though she could even taste the scent on her tongue.

The other Slayer grinned. “You get used to it, me thinks.”

Kelia sneered but continued to remain silent as she glanced around her. The barn was spacious and empty, but more than that, it was silent. So far, she hadn’t seen one single person or animal. The realization made her uneasy. Even the light came from a lantern. Nothing natural could be detected.

There was a flight of wooden stairs built against the far wall that led to a second floor. The Slayers headed directly over to the staircase while Kelia took in more mattresses in the middle of the stalls. Dark stains decorated the floors like a brand. If Kelia could guess, it almost looked like dried blood. She swallowed and clenched her fingers against her palms. She needed to put one foot in front of the other. She could not let her fear show.

She climbed the stairs, following the Slayers. The wood squeaked beneath her feet.

It wasn’t until she reached the second floor that there was any other sign of life. Four other women her age, all tired with deeply sunken eyes, sat slumped into a pile of desolation on mattresses surrounding a small wooden table. Their hair was pulled from their faces, knitted and tangled, and Kelia could smell their rotting aroma from across the room.

Dirt and other substances Kelia would rather not try to guess stained their clothes, and they all sat slumped forward, heads down, hair in their faces, hiding away. Ashamed of themselves, staring off into the distance as though lacking any desire to do much of anything else.

“Want a go with one of them, Stephen?” the first one asked. “They don’t look like they’re in any position to say no.”

Kelia couldn’t contain her disgust any longer. “You’ve led me here; you’ve done your job,” she said. “Now do us all a favor and kindly fuck off before I push you lot down the stairs.”

Both men turned and glared at Kelia, their lips curled up into snarls.

“Just because you fucked a Shadow don’t mean you’re protected, dearie,” the first one said. “In fact, just the opposite here.”

“Yeah, he ain’t here to claim you, is he?” the second one, Stephen, said. “Maybe we have a go with you instead. Break you in before the Shadows ruin you, eh?”

At that moment, something low and melodic fluttered across the room. Both men straightened, as if they were seized by some unknown being and forced to walk away. Without another word to Kelia, without even a glance at the lifeless women before them, they headed down the stairs.

Once the front door of the barn slammed shut, the barn stilled. Not even the women moved. They didn’t seem to care one way or the other that the men had left or that Kelia had arrived. They continued sitting on mattresses. One was even on a cot that hung loose so it nearly scraped the floor.

Nobody here could have compelled the men to leave, yet Kelia was certain she had heard a voice say something in a language she didn’t recognize.

“You’re new.”

Kelia turned to look over her shoulder, and one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen stepped toward her. “I am.”

She had taken in this floor when she first ascended the stairs. Besides the four women, she had not seen anyone else. She especially would have remembered someone who’s very presence commanded attention.

Kelia glanced away, out the only window in the barn. The clouds somehow seemed darker, but she was not certain if such a thing was even possible. She angled her body toward the flight of stairs, just in case things turned awry. For some reason, she had a feeling this woman was more powerful than she appeared.

She gave Kelia a long, calculating look. She started from Kelia’s feet and slowly raised her eyes until they met Kelia’s gaze.

“You’re different,” she finally murmured. “You might survive us yet.”

Warmth spread throughout Kelia’s chest, though she couldn’t explain why. She didn’t know this woman. She shouldn’t care one way or the other what this woman thought of her. And yet, it felt good to see that someone actually had faith in her ability to handle herself. It felt good to have someone take her seriously.

“Have you come by choice or punishment?” the woman asked, placing her hands on her hips. She completely ignored the other women, just as they completely ignored her.

“Is there such thing as choice in The Society?” Kelia asked.

“Believe it or not, some do ask to come here. Though, I suppose you’re right. Not really by choice. They sell themselves into the program in exchange for the safety or provisions of their family.” The woman’s lip cracked a hollow smile. “Sightless?” she guessed.

“Witch?” Kelia shot back.

The woman’s smile widened. “I think I like you,” she said. “What’s your name?”

She glanced over at the box of her things, where the men dropped it off. Somewhere inside was her father’s journal, hidden, unless they’d found it. But if it was still there, then so were the missing pages, tucked in the parchment.

“Kelia Starling,” she replied finally.

“Any relation to—”

“Yes.” Her gaze snapped away from her belongings and back to the woman. Even though she felt her face heat up, she refused to turn away or attempt to hide her shame. “Perhaps I’m being punished for my father’s sins.”

“Your father was a man in love,” the woman said. “Love does things to us that we never could have expected. It makes us our absolute best and turns us into our very worst. Either way, there is a belief that we’re not in control of our actions.”

“That is shit,” Kelia snapped. “My father made choices. He—”

“Why are you here?”

“I already told you,” Kelia said. “I didn’t have a choice.” She considered the woman in front of her—the dark hair, the dark eyes. She wore a dress with a dirty hem, torn material. One sleeve fell off her shoulder in an elegant swoop. “Who are—?”

Before she could finish her question, the main door to the barn opened, and Rycroft himself walked in. Kelia peered over the bannister to get a better look at him. He already had a handkerchief over his face, as though he knew to expect such a strong stench. Despite that, the tug of the cheeks indicated he was grinning.

She straightened simply because of his presence, then stopped herself immediately. Her acceptance to this program meant she didn’t have to pretend anymore. She didn’t need to hide herself the way she had been the last few months.

“Ms. Starling,” he bellowed, his voice filling the room.

Kelia glanced at the four women in the room. She couldn’t be certain, but it almost seemed as though even they tensed when they heard him.

“Welcome to your new home. I hear you get used to the smell.”

Kelia said nothing. However, the footsteps of the witch woman crept up behind her as though she wished to hear what Rycroft had to say.

“Get settled in,” he said. “Tomorrow, everything will change for you. You will be doing a great service to The Society. I do hope you know that. You should take pride in what you do.”

“I’m still unaware what it is you need from me,” Kelia drawled, leaning over the bannister.

Rycroft made no move to come up the stairs, and she wondered if he didn’t trust the design under his weight.

“I have educated guesses based on the nature of the program,” she went on, “but nothing definitive. Are you here to elaborate?”

“There it is.” His grin widened, and his eyes moved to something behind Kelia. “I see you’ve been introduced to our resident witch? Be careful, or she might be able to control you with her powers. It’s why Slayers are forbidden to go out to the barn. It’s also why, when they do, they are responsible for wearing an amulet that prevents her powers from working.”

“You are not wearing an amulet,” Kelia pointed out.

“I do not need one,” he remarked. He reached up, then pulled his spectacles from his face so he could hold them up. “This, right here, is made from the same stone as the amulets. I am protected always.”

Kelia stood to her full height, keeping her hands on the wood.

“Your Slayers who brought my things did not wear amulets,” she said.

“Slayers?” Rycroft laughed out loud. “They’re no more Slayers than you are now. Just the hired help, I suppose. I don’t care much what happens to them.” He shifted his weight where he stood. The barn was surprisingly still for a place that currently occupied seven individuals. “I do hope you make your fellow carriers’ acquaintance.”

“Carriers?”

“Yes,” Rycroft said. “Did I not tell you what to expect while part of this program?”

“Well, I’ve only asked several times now.”

“Let’s see how that sense of humor holds up.” Rycroft laughed. “You will be tested and tried to see when you are able to have children based on your monthlies. You will be partnered with Sea Shadows we have taken prisoner—” At this, the woman behind Kelia snorted. Rycroft ignored her. “—and you will begin the mating phase.”

Kelia could practically feel the color drain from her face, but Rycroft continued.

“You will continue until you are either with child or your monthlies begin. If you’re with child, we remove you from here and house you during your incapacitation, running tests and keeping notes of the developing monster in your womb. If you get your monthlies…” His eyes twinkled. “Your back is already acquainted with if you get your monthlies. And then the whole cycle begins again.”

“You can’t be serious,” she said. “Who would punish a woman for not getting pregnant?”

“You get meals twice a day,” Rycroft went on as if she hadn’t even spoken. “And water three times a day. You can relieve yourself on the floor where I stand. Someone comes and cleans up once a week, if they remember. Do you have any questions?”

“Do you have any statistics on my survival rate expectancy?” Kelia asked.

Rycroft turned, already heading for the door. “I do hope that mouth doesn’t get you into too much trouble with your mate, Ms. Starling,” he said. “Although, considering you were Drew Knight’s whore, perhaps you’re already used to monsters in your cunt.”

When he reached the door, he stopped and turned to look at both Kelia and the woman behind her.

“It’s fitting,” he said, his voice echoing through the barn, “that the two of you should be carriers together. Kelia Starling and Wendy Parsons. I’m sure your father and your brother would be proud.”

Kelia didn’t hear him head out of the barn. She completely forgot about the heavy aroma suffocating her senses, and the dread that had built up in her as Rycroft explained what he expected from her slid away. Instead, she turned around to look at the woman. The dark hair, the dark eyes, the beauty, the high cheekbones.

It all made sense now.

“Wendy Parsons?” Kelia murmured. “The witch?”

“I prefer sorceress, if you don’t mind,” she said, placing her hands on her hips and looking down at Kelia. She was only a half a head taller than Kelia, maybe a few inches shy of Drew Knight himself. “But yes, I suppose I am technically a witch.”

“You’re Drew Knight’s sister,” Kelia said. “You’re the one I’ve been looking for.”

20

Wendy placed her hands on her hips and gave Kelia a long stare, honing in on Kelia’s neck, like she was looking for something.

“You know Drew Knight?” she asked. “How old are you?”

“Seventeen,” Kelia replied before thinking, but quickly corrected herself. “Eighteen last month.”

Her late-November birthday had passed her by while her back still ached, a few weeks into her stint as a Sightless. It was now January, though Kelia could not recall the day. Time had slipped from her grasp, and the frightening part of her ordeal was that she had not even noticed.

She placed her hand on the choker around her neck and tried to pull it off her.

“That won’t work,” Wendy said. “That’s locked pretty well, as are the boarded windows on the barn.”

“I’m pretty good at picking locks,” she muttered. She reached up to her hair and pulled out a pin.

“Fine,” Wendy said with an elegant shrug as she swept past Kelia. “Get whipped for insubordination. And the dogs? How do you plan to get past those?”

Kelia stilled before sweeping the pin back into her hair. She cleared her throat.

“Right,” she said.

“And that’s not even the worst of it,” Wendy said, crossing her arms and looking Kelia up and down. Before Kelia could ask what the worst of it was, Wendy continued. “Rycroft said you knew my brother? While I must admit you are exactly his type, I do not see any trace of him on you.”

Wendy flipped her hair over her shoulder and turned from her. She walked down the narrow path between mattresses, stopping to pick up a discarded blanket and whipping it skillfully over a rotted mattress.

“He likes to sink his teeth into his victims,” she continued. “To leave his mark.” She stopped what she was doing, her back toward Kelia, before shaking her hair. Brown curls followed the slow, graceful gesture. “Of course, he erases it to the untrained eye, but if you know what to look for, those marks never go away. Yet, there are none on you.”

“I am not one of his victims.”

“Right,” Wendy said, an almost bitter laugh running an undercurrent to her tone. “Yet, you couldn’t possibly be more. My brother doesn’t claim anyone.”

Kelia took a step toward Wendy, wanting to learn more but not sure where to begin. Wendy was a witch. Kelia had never known an actual witch before, except Emma. Although Emma had not admitted what she was to Kelia.

“Your brother is worried about you,” she said.

She didn’t know why she was defending Drew Knight when she was still deliriously angry at him for what he did to her, what he kept from her. Had defending Drew Knight turned into a habit, despite her best efforts to keep him from burrowing beneath her skin?

Yet, as she stared at Wendy, as she took in the sight of the strong woman in a hopeless situation, Kelia couldn’t help but want to inform Wendy that someone was searching for her.

“Drew worries, certainly,” Wendy remarked, looking at her fingernails. Her profile sliced through the dim lighting that streamed through the window. Due to the accumulation of dirt and other murky residue, the sunlight was hardly overbearing. “About himself, I’m sure.” She turned on the heel of her boot and crossed her arms over his chest. “Are you smitten with him?”

Kelia dropped her arms from the bannister she was leaning against. “I’m sorry?”

“You look like a bright girl,” Wendy said. “I’m certain you heard me correctly. Are you smitten with my brother? I would not blame you if you were. My brother is beautiful and charming. A little on the shorter side, but he makes up for it with his physique. My friends would not stop talking about him, and it drove me absolutely mad.” She shook her head. Her eyes had gone far away. She was talking about a different time.

“Why do you seem angry with him?” Kelia asked before she could stop herself.

“Why do you avoid my question?” Wendy’s lips curled up, but her eyes remained mirthless. This time, she picked up a pillow and replaced it on the mattress. “Why have they sent you here? Tell me the truth this time. I am already aware you had no choice in the matter, but tell me more than that.”

“Ashton Rycroft hates me,” Kelia said. She didn’t take pride in this statement, nor did she sound as though she was complaining about it. She was merely stating a fact.

“Does he, now?” Wendy turned, again on the heel of her boot and stalked toward Kelia once more. “And why is that?”

“He thinks your brother and I are—were—lovers,” Kelia said. “Because that is what I told him.”

“Is it true?”

“You said yourself he doesn’t claim anyone.” Kelia placed her hand delicately on her throat, covering her pulse. Just the beat of it against her skin reminded her of the way Drew had looked at her throat, as though he was tempted by something not even he understood. She dropped her hand. “Rycroft is a man upset that a Slayer partnered with a Shadow, whether in lust or in logic.”

“Partner with Drew?” Wendy’s head jerked back. “Why?”

“My father was murdered,” Kelia said. “The Society—Rycroft said he committed suicide. I didn’t believe him.”

Wendy was silent for a moment before nodding at the window. “He was killed out there,” she said. “In a stable. They sent multiple Shadows after him. Hungry ones. He did not stand a chance. I think they paralyzed him in some way because his movements were sluggish. Not that that made a difference. I almost felt sorry for him. Until I remembered that if he had not created this place, I would not be here.” A pause. “Do you know why he did it?”

Kelia turned to rest her arms on the bannister once again. She didn’t know what she was looking for, yet she searched every corner of the barn. Maybe she wanted proof that her father had been here. She could find no trace of him in the fortress, and he had been there for twenty years of his life. All she had left was his journal and the missing pages. That, this program, and Kelia seemed to be the last of his legacy.

“I hear because a siren stole my mother from him,” Kelia said softly. “He was distracted by the siren’s song, and the monsters reached up and consumed her. He told me she died, but he never went into detail. I found out later, after he’d died.”

“And he thought mating with Shadows would help him how?” Wendy asked. There was no sympathy in her tone. Kelia couldn’t fault her for that. “Your father sounds like a loon.”

“He did it for my mother.” Kelia glanced over at the other four women who were sitting and staring off. “What happened to these women?”

“They are broken,” Wendy said, coming to stand next to Kelia. “I would not be surprised if the good Lord takes them soon. I am certain they are begging for it. It would be a mercy.”

“You are speaking of having them die while they are within earshot.”

“Do you see them reacting?” Wendy leaned closer to Kelia, close enough for her breath to warm against Kelia’s shoulder. “You have bruising around your eye. A fight, I presume? Is that why you are here?”

Kelia flattened the skirt of her dress with her palms. “More or less.”

Her confrontation with Daniella felt far away even though it happened just a day ago. Even meeting with Abigail early this morning felt as though it had been a dream and nothing more. Once again, she glanced at her luggage by the staircase. If she had the time, she hoped she would be able to read more from her father’s missing journal pages.

“Why aren’t they reacting?” Kelia asked, going back to what Wendy had said.

“What I tell you will not do what they endured justice,” she muttered. Her eyes found Kelia’s, and she scoffed. “I take it you are aware Sea Shadows are actually created by The Society and the East India Company. Some of the ones they made live on boats made of silver. They feed on raw meat. And they breed with us.”

Kelia felt the blood drain from her face. She had seen Sea Shadows before, in battle and in partnership. Yet now, in this wretched smelling barn, she didn’t know if she would survive her next encounter with them, with no weapon to defend herself.

Fighting a Sea Shadow was one thing, but allowing a Shadow to completely violate her body with the intention to breed, to get her with child… Kelia nearly spilled the contents of her stomach on the floor. It was starting to hit her—why she was here, what her purpose was.

“I believed…” She swallowed and looked away. She crossed her arms over her chest, her hands holding herself. “I thought I would be…” She didn’t know what she believed. She had been warned, of course. Rycroft had hinted as much, and Drew had outright been furious with her for agreeing to do such a thing. “I knew; I just did not…”

There was a look of sympathy on Wendy’s pretty face, and for a moment, Kelia saw Drew.

“These women are broken because they have been violated over and over again,” Wendy explained. “It is why death would be a mercy for them. If I had access to my herbs and potions, I would concoct a potion that would bring instant, painless death. Then again, if I could use my powers against those who matter, I would not be here and neither would they.” Her eyes narrowed on one of the women’s neck. “They, too, wear topaz pendants. They cannot take it off, and I cannot touch it or else it will burn me.”

“Witches can’t touch topaz?” Kelia asked.

“It represents fire,” she said, “and being an earth witch, I am weak against fire. Sirens are resistant to emeralds, which represent the earth.”

“I have not heard of fire witches,” Kelia murmured, more to herself than to Wendy. “I suppose there are air witches as well?”

Wendy’s lips twisted into a wry smile. “A story for another time,” she said. She glanced out the window. “It’s almost time for our first meal of the day.” Her eyes flickered over to the four women, still motionless. It was even hard to distinguish when they breathed in and out. “One of them, Mary”—she nodded her head at the smallest and thinnest woman, her limp blonde hair in a braid— “tried to starve herself. I told her if she did not eat, she wouldn’t have the strength to endure, and it would be worse than it would be otherwise.”

Kelia took in everything on the second floor: the mattresses with the pillows and blankets replaced, the braids in the hair. She looked back to Wendy, and she took a step back.

“You take care of them,” she murmured.

Wendy didn’t look at Kelia. Instead, she kept her eyes focused on the four women sitting together. They hadn’t looked in Kelia’s direction once.

“Someone has to be strong for them,” Wendy murmured.

Kelia tried to swallow, but her throat felt like ash. Her face turned down, her hands picking at the rough wool that made up her dress.

“My father…he wanted to breed witches and Shadows to create something that might be used to protect sailors, and what you said—I think that’s the answer to your question.” Kelia kept her voice quiet. “At least, those are the pieces I’ve managed to fit together. But I do not understand why he did it, did this, to you specifically. As cold as it sounds, I do not think it was personal.”

Wendy arched an eyebrow, but said nothing, as if waiting for Kelia to go on.

“Earth weakens water, as you said. I didn’t understand…” She shook her head, tears accumulating in her eyes. “You must endure—”

“What I have to, to survive.” There was no bitterness in Wendy’s voice, though it was firm. Wendy looked Kelia in the eye, as if unashamed of what had been done to her.

“These women.” Kelia gestured with as much subtlety as she could muster at the other Sightless. “They aren’t witches. Neither am I. So that part...that part I can’t make sense of.”

Wendy wrinkled her nose. “You only have a problem with this program if it’s a human life at stake?”

“I didn't mean it like that. It’s just—”

“It’s just what? That The Society twisted your father’s program into a tool for punishment? For control? Or maybe that’s the way The Society has always wanted it. Maybe your father, in his clouded ignorance, thought he would be getting revenge when, really, innocent people are here now because of him.”

“I’m sorry, Wendy. I just wanted to understand. And to find a way to escape. For all of us.”

Wendy snapped her head in Kelia’s direction, a fierce look on her delicate face. “There is no escape,” she said. “Do not be so arrogant as to think otherwise.”

“But—”

“Do you not think any of us has tried?”

“And?”

Somehow, the room went still. Kelia was almost afraid to breathe.

“She never came back.” Wendy’s nostrils flared. “But her scent lingers…I cannot explain it.”

Kelia flattened her palms against her waist before finally picking her gaze up to look at Wendy. “Do you think we will be free from this?” she asked. “At some point?”

“I don’t know.” Wendy turned her head to the window again. If Kelia closed her eyes and focused, she would be able to hear the wind moaning outside. “I had an intended… There is a small, romantic part of me that hopes he is still searching for me. That he has not given up on me. I am not sure what he would do if he found me—he is only a man and The Society is an army—but…” She shook her head.

“You don’t worry if he will still have you, after your innocence was stolen by these beasts?” Kelia asked in a voice just above a whisper.

This was not her place. It was none of her business. And yet, she couldn’t help but ask. If Wendy was anything, it was honest. And honesty was something Kelia could appreciate, especially now.

“Christopher would understand what happened to me. He would love me more because I survived it,” Wendy said, her lips curling into a small, nostalgic smile. “I have been around nearly a century as a witch, Slayer. My innocence was lost long ago. He knew that and loved me still because love should not depend on your innocence. It should depend on how lovable you are.”

Kelia buried her fingers in her dress. “Christopher?” she asked. It could be any Christopher, she knew, but she could not stop hope from blooming in her chest. “Christopher Beckett?”

Wendy’s gaze snapped to Kelia, and her entire demeanor changed. As if her energy had doubled, as if her life had renewed. “You know him?” she asked, her voice an octave higher. “Has he found me? Is he all right? Is he safe?”

Kelia opened her mouth, ready to respond, when the door to the barn slammed open. The same two men that had brought her and her luggage came back with four trays of food holding eight bowls of what appeared to be porridge, which they set on the floor before turning to leave again.

Kelia’s stomach churned. No wonder these women were withering away.

When the doors slammed, Wendy hopped down the steps to retrieve the food. She grabbed the two trays and managed to carry them up to the second floor without spilling the food and breaking the glass. She placed the bowls on the small table in front of the four women, then knelt so she could give each woman a spoon.

She murmured gentle words to these women, words Kelia couldn’t hear but were clearly enough to jostle the women from their stupor, at least temporarily. It was not long before each one—after individualized conversation from Wendy—proceeded to eat.

Wendy came over to Kelia with a bowl of porridge and a spoon. “Sometimes, they need encouragement,” she said, standing next to Kelia to look at the women. Without a glance in Kelia’s direction, she handed her a bowl of porridge and a spoon. “Eat up, Slayer. You’re going to need all the strength you can get.”

21

It had been two days, and Kelia was still not used to the smell. Nobody had come or gone. The four silent women remained aloof and quiet. Kelia didn’t think they realized she was even there, that she had joined their little group, all destined for the same fate.

Wendy reminded Kelia of what a mother should be. Kelia hadn’t gotten the opportunity to be cared for because her mother was taken from her when she was so young, but as she watched Wendy care for these women—Mary, Cathleen, Samantha, and Riley—she believed her mother would have treated her in a similar fashion.

Wendy did everything for these women. She couldn’t remove the trinkets around their necks, but she did what she could to make their lives much easier. She encouraged them to eat. If one refused, she would force them but in a sympathetic way that was neither cruel nor judgmental.

She cleaned them as best as she could and had them change each day. The wardrobe was all shared among the women, the dresses rotated. It didn’t appear as though washing them was on The Society’s priorities, but Wendy was able to clean them up to the best of her ability using rain water and a couple of bins.

Wendy also made sure to talk to each one for at least fifteen minutes, almost as though to remind them that they were still on earth, that regardless of their circumstance, they were still alive. When it came time to relieve themselves—something they did on the first floor in the far corner—Wendy went with them and helped.

Kelia was torn between vastly different emotions at various times of day. There were times when she admired Wendy, was sympathetic to the women, indulged in self-pity when it was dark and no one could see her. Other times, she was angry with everyone and everything. She hated Daniella for telling her the truth about her father, Drew for keeping it from her, Wendy for existing in the first place. Almost always, though, she felt trepidation. She could never fully relax her body or her mind because there was always the threat that someone would come in and rape her.

She shook her head and looked over at Wendy, who was currently on a mattress with a tattered book, reading to the Sightless. They were all staring at Wendy, but Kelia couldn’t tell if they were listening, if the story registered.

Kelia sat on the mattress Wendy had assigned her to, the soothing tenor of Wendy’s voice distracting her from self-pity and the heavy stench. It helped that the weather was cool and rainy. When she closed her eyes and thought about that singular window and the weather outside, she could swear the air smelled cleaner, fresher.

She felt underneath her pillow, her fingers encountering the book that contained her father’s journal inside.

She still hadn’t read more from the pages, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to. Did it even matter anymore? Her father created this vile program. In his rage-fueled haze, he believed he was doing it for his wife. Kelia could understand the anger, the need to react, but she didn’t understand the cruelty to have the Shadows try to impregnate innocents to create some kind of being against sirens…

Yet, not reading the entries meant she would never know. She would never see her father’s reasoning, his motives for his actions. And she needed to see his own words to confirm what everybody else already seemed to know. She’s sacrificed everything to learn the truth, and she couldn’t let that be for nothing.

As Wendy’s voice pierced the heavy silence, Kelia took in a deep breath. She refrained from retching and closed her eyes, trying to focus on the gentle rain that fell outside. They’d had a one-day break before the rain began again. Judging by the dark clouds, she didn’t think it would let up anytime soon.

She twisted from her position on the mattress to pull out The White Whale and the journal that held the ripped-out pages Abigail had just recently given her. The missing pieces of what happened to her father might be here. The answers to the questions she hadn’t even known to ask until Daniella had rudely enlightened her.

But why had Abigail given these to her in the first place? She mentioned that Kelia should have them, should know the truth in her father’s words, but was it really that simple? Her fingers shook as she slowly unfolded the aged parchment. Her eyes slid over to Wendy and the Sightless, but if they heard the crunch of the pages, they did not make any indication of it.

Kelia turned back to her father’s familiar scrawl.

March 13

I have constantly wondered what I could do to honor Anna’s memory, and this program is it. After Anna was slaughtered by a sea witch, I vowed to do something to stop it. Shadows are not the only threat to us, to my Kelia. Sirens, Blood Beasts, earth witches, demons, and who knows what else might be out there. At least, I will have a hand in eradicating the danger that has affected my family.

From my studies, sirens are immune to the spells of earth witches. The problem is, I am not familiar with earth witches or where one would go to find one. I can only work with what I have at my disposal. However, my goal is to mate a Sea Shadow and an earth witch to get a Shadow born, not created, with the magical abilities of an earth witch. One we could keep under The Society’s influence and control. If I had even one of those, I am certain I would be able to exact my revenge and prevent any further casualties at the hands of sirens.

When I went to Ashton Rycroft with my plan, he deemed it too cruel. Sacrificing innocents for science was not worth it, not even to conquer sirens. It was not worth the investment. Regardless of his sentiment, I persisted. The Council will vote, but they need to talk to someone else before it can go through. Who this person is, I do not know. I just know that this person was referred to as a she.

I shall wait with baited breath for the answer. I can only pray it is in my favor.

So it was true.

Kelia knew it was coming, but that didn’t prepare her for the blow. Her father sounded intent on creating this program to avenge her mother and eradicate sirens. Regardless of his motives, she had to agree with Rycroft: the program was cruel. Something, though, must have changed his mind at some point, as now he seemed to be the director for that very same program.

She huffed a sigh and continued to read. There were only two entries left.

March 17

Slaves.

Rycroft has employed slaves to take part in the program since we need an earth witch and have not managed to find one. But what good will that do? There is no magical element with human slaves. It is pointless to breed them. Rumor has it, The Society has an opportunity to acquire Wendy Parsons, earth witch and sister to Drew Knight. She would be the perfect specimen to test this out on.

I don’t know the details—Rycroft refuses to tell me as much. I don’t know how we’re going to acquire Sea Shadows to breed with the slaves in the first place unless The Society can spare one or two. I heard from Abigail that they had the Queen turn Wendy’s betrothed. I thought perhaps we could have him breed with her once he is out of the Infant stages, but when I try to discuss these options with Rycroft, he refused to talk to me about the program. My program.

I could be imagining things, but I feel as though my program is being taken over by the very man who wanted nothing to do with it in the first place, and I do not know how to take it back. I do not know if I am able to. I want to test my theory on different Shadows—one turned from another Shadow, one turned directly from the Queen, and one created by the East India Company. I could document the findings, but I am not sure they listen to me anymore.

Kelia shook her head, glancing out the window and taking a breath. She needed a moment. Wendy was still reading to the other girls, and a quick glance in her direction showed that she had not even noticed Kelia doing anything out of the ordinary. Kelia sank deep into the mattress, and she flipped over the parchment to look at the back. Her fingers shook, and she rested the page on her stomach to curl her fingers into a fist. She needed to stop the shaking, but she couldn’t seem to control herself.

Only two more entries, Starling, she thought to herself. You left it to yourself to learn what sort of man he really was. Perhaps it will give you insight as to why he was killed.

The rain continued to fall softly against the barn. The consistent tapping eased Kelia’s heart, and the parchment crinkled, even in her gentle grasp.

March 22

Abigail has been my rock throughout this time. Though my heart will always belong to Anna, I find she is both pleasing to speak with and to look at. She is decidedly younger than I, but she acts as though we are the same in every way. I feel relieved to have her by my side.

I find, if I am being honest with myself, that she is not threatened by my Anna. She knows this program I want to run is because of how I lost her. Yet she does not judge me or tell me how to feel. It does not matter that I lost Anna nearly ten-and-six years ago. Abigail is aware that I cannot give her my whole heart because it will always be Anna’s. Anything left over belongs to my Kelia. But Abigail will have my mind and whatever affection I can spare for her.

When I tell her about the slaves, about the problems mating a slave with a Shadow rather than a witch, she encourages me. Apparently, there is a Sightless by the name of Daniella whose father sent her here after finding out her mother was a witch. Was, being an indicator that she has come to pass on. Her father worries her mother’s abilities transferred to her. A justifiable worry, if I say so myself. But she’s too young. I can hardly put a child in the program. I am just glad she is a fire witch and not an earth witch—it is easier to let her go as a test subject this way.

Yet, this means we still need to find a different witch. An earth witch, and one who is not as innocent as a girl who has never used her powers.

Abigail offers to help me, and I am glad.

We may be able to start piecing this together.

Kelia cringed. Daniella’s mother was a witch. Her backstory—at least the one Kelia knew—was a lie. Did this mean Daniella had those magical abilities? Daniella did know a lot about things bordering on the mystical—the forbidden books in the council’s chambers being a prime example.

But that didn’t explain everything. If Daniella was a witch, certainly she had to have some sort of mentor, someone who was training her.

More than that, Daniella was right. About the breeding program. About her father. Kelia wanted to wretch.

She shook her head, wishing she had known about Daniella before this. She would have understood her callous behavior, her defensiveness. Then perhaps they wouldn’t have fought, and Kelia wouldn’t be here now.

At that moment, someone came in and deposited food before walking out. Wendy paused her story, her gaze going to Kelia.

Kelia snapped her hands down, but she was certain she had acted too quickly and Wendy would suspect something. She kept glancing at Kelia and furrowing her brow before looking away.

Kelia folded up the parchment and placed it back into her father’s journal before sticking it under her pillow. It was not the most unique place to hide it away nor was it the safest, but it would have to do as there was no other place to put it. Her stomach rumbled, and she placed a hand over it, shushing it.

She had always been a fan of porridge, but The Society refused to give participants sugar to sweeten their food. As such, it was tasteless, and the only reason she ate it was because she had no other choice.

She stood from the bed and took a seat next to Cathleen on the corner of the mattress. She was emulating Wendy and attempting to speak to them each day, reminding them that they were human and that their lives mattered, regardless of how they felt or what they were going through. Kelia had not gotten much of a response, but when their eyes found her and recognition flashed in the irises, she knew she was making progress.

“What are you reading?” Wendy asked slowly between bites of the lukewarm meal.

Kelia cleared her throat and turned to her mattress. She knew she revealed a lot in that glance, but she couldn’t help the natural look to ensure everything was as she left it. Wendy dealt in the art of magic, after all, and it would not surprise her if the witch had the ability to obtain knowledge with a flick of her wrist and a murmured spell.

“Something of immense importance to me,” Kelia finally said. She felt there was a chance that Wendy might be able to read her mind, but didn’t want to say too much. If she was lucky, the block on Wendy’s magic would also stop any mind-reading abilities, should Wendy have any. “It is personal to me and my family, so I would appreciate it being kept private.”

“Do you think I would violate your privacy?” Wendy asked. “Is that the sort of person you think I am?”

“I don’t know you,” Kelia pointed out, her tone soft. “I don’t know what sort of person you are.”

Wendy nodded. “Fair enough.”

There was no more talking that day. Wendy resumed her story to the four women, and Kelia found her way back to the mattress. She hated how sluggish she had become in the past few days. She wished she had her blade. She could not be certain, but she swore she had seen it on Drew the last time he had come to visit her in her room.

The night he had admitted to knowing the truth of her father and keeping it to himself.

Had Drew gone looking for her since then? Found her room empty? If so, did he worry about her, or care at all?

The fact she even considered he cared in the first place was enough to show her how much she had changed. A beast was incapable of feeling, and yet somehow Drew, supposed a beast himself, managed to deduct, tempt, tease, and tantalize. The Society made no sense on their indoctrination, and she couldn’t believe she hadn’t realized it sooner.

She slid her hands underneath her pillow. Her fingers felt the familiar smooth leather of the journal once more, but just as she was about to pull it out, the door slammed open.

She jumped. She had not been expecting a visitor.

A woman Kelia had never seen before strode in. Despite the weather, she was immaculately dry, every lock of her black hair perfectly in place. Her pale eyes turned upward to the group of women, and a smile slithered across her face like a snake.

“It’s time, ladies,” she said. “Your mates are waiting.”

22

Kelia snapped back her hand from underneath the pillow so quickly she nearly pulled a muscle in her arm. She didn’t want anyone to know about her journal, that she had something that mattered to her. Slowly, hoping she would not bring any unwanted attention to herself, she stood and looked to Wendy for guidance.

Wendy was already on her feet, her shoulders squared, as though she was going into battle. From the corner of her eye, Kelia saw the four women blanch at the sight of this woman. Everyone waited for Wendy to move. She was the unspoken leader among them, something Kelia fell in line with. Wendy seemed unbreakable.

“Well?” The woman clapped her hands together, her painted lips curled into a smile. “Come, come. We only have so many hours in the day. Mr. Rycroft was generous enough to let you use this barn during the stormy season. Instead of stuffing you in the prison below the fortress, you get to go on a ship specifically designated for this purpose. The Shadows don’t like being contained on the ship, but knowing you will be onboard with them soon has appeased them.”

What was this woman going on about? She could have been speaking gibberish, and it would make just as much sense. Kelia waited to see what Wendy would do in response.

“Ah, you must be our newest recruit,” the woman said. She fixed her pale blue eyes on Kelia. “Kelia Starling, correct? I am certain you are making your father proud. He left quite a legacy. It was too bad what happened to him. Taking his own life and leaving his only child behind.”

“He didn’t take his own life.” It felt good hearing herself finally say it out loud. She had been keeping it inside of her for months, but she was at the point where she could finally contradict it. She was already being punished in the worst way. They could do nothing worse to her—death might even be a reprieve.

“Feisty,” the woman said. “I am sure Rycroft enjoyed breaking you. I remember when he whipped you in front of the academy. You were bloody and broken. It was the perfect lesson for your fellow Slayers to learn. Lying with a Shadow? I’m surprised you’re still here to talk about it.”

“Are you not forcing us to lie with Shadows?” Kelia asked. She walked over to the bannister to get a better look at the woman.

“This is for science, not for pleasure,” the woman snapped.

“Why can it not be for both?” Wendy quipped. “I am certain once my brother finds me—and I assure you, he will—he will murder the lot of you. Once he finds out you’ve forced his lover to such experiments, he will ensure you suffer more than you thought possible. Now, Agatha, are you certain you want to lead us to our fates?”

“You ask me this each time, Wendy Parsons,” Agatha said, glaring at Wendy. “Have I ever taken you up on your suggestion to release you? My loyalty is to The Society, even if I die for the cause.”

“You’ll prove that to them shortly,” Wendy said. Under her breath, she muttered, “Once I get that bloody necklace off your bloody neck.”

Regardless of Wendy’s words, Kelia didn’t expect Drew Knight to swoop in and rescue any of them. He was as wanted as wanted could get. Slayers and guards alike were told to shoot on sight. He was a dead man—a dead beast—walking around with a noose around his neck and a silver dagger in his heart.

Wendy might use Kelia as a scare tactic on Agatha, but Kelia had never officially been Drew’s lover. He was not bound to her at all, so she was surely not worth being saved—at least to Drew Knight. If Drew Knight was going to save anyone, it would be his sister. And yet, he hadn’t.

Which meant Kelia needed to figure out how to save herself.

Wendy went to each woman and straightened her dress and brushed her hair with her fingers. When she finished, she stood next to Kelia.

“It’s not for the Shadows’ benefit,” Wendy murmured as explanation. “It’s for them. It’s to show them they matter, that looking nice is something they are worthy of.”

Kelia couldn’t figure out what to say. She didn’t know how to do it, but she was going to save them all. Perhaps she could speak to Wendy in private and figure out the best way to do such a thing. Maybe there was a way for her to remove someone’s necklace so Wendy could use her magical abilities and escape.

“May I offer some advice?” Wendy asked in a low voice. She walked over to the top of the staircase and began her descent slowly.

“Please,” Kelia said, her voice just as low.

“When they take you, do not scream,” she said. “You have endured a lot of pain. Rycroft whipped you—you know what that feels like. There are a lot more emotional scars that come with being violated in this way that I could not begin to put into words. At the very least, you can control how you react to them. Do not scream. It will only make things worse.”

They reached the stairs before Kelia could respond. It didn’t matter, though. She had nothing to say. She didn’t know how to prepare for this. Tears built up. Her heart pounded in her chest and echoed throughout her head. Each step she took matched with her heartbeat. This would be worse than the lashings she received from Rycroft. She knew it now. Deep in her bones, she knew it.

The minute Kelia stepped onto the first floor, Agatha reached out and placed her hand on her shoulder, weaving her through the others until she was at the front of the line. She took too much delight in leading Kelia and the others out of the barn, to the nearby docks.

Kelia hadn’t realized they were so close to the harbor. As they passed a secluded entranceway to the docks, just before a small black gate opened and led them to a paved path down to the water, there was a small platform with a lynch on it. It looked like gallows, where someone went to be hanged. Where someone was hanging.

Kelia recognized the girl. Though she couldn’t recall the name, she knew the girl from her time washing dishes. She had asked Kelia about kissing Drew Knight. Now, she was tied with thick rope on her wrists to the wood behind her and her feet off the ground.

Her shoulders had both popped out of her sockets. She was completely naked, with the skin on her back ripped wide open. The blood, now brown and dark red, crusted on the girl’s pale white skin. There were bites on every inch of her skin, small scabs covering the holes. Her hair was dull, hanging in strings to her shoulders.

Dead.

Kelia shivered. She racked her mind, trying to remember the last time she had seen her, but came up at a loss.

The girl’s neck was protruding at an odd angle, and there was dried blood caked to her face in streams underneath her eyes. Birds had pecked out her eyes.

Kelia stopped walking, keeled over, and threw up. Her hands on her bent knees, she did not bother to mask the pain and disgust she felt as she released her food.

“I see you noticed our warning,” Agatha said, one hand on Kelia’s back like a mother might to soothe her ill child. Her voice, however, was cold rather than comforting. “She tried to escape her first night with us, only three weeks ago.”

When Kelia didn’t reply, Agatha went on. “The dogs got to her first. Her punishment was a private lashing. See, we tied her up over there, and Rycroft delivered the blows. Ten for insubordination, for trying to ignore commitments. We tried to warn her, but she refused to listen.

“Once she endured her punishment, we left her up there and sent the Shadows out to feast, but they did much more. Her dress was ripped from her; vile things were done to her body. We woke to find her neck broken. We cannot prove it, but we believe someone decided to show mercy by ending her suffering once and for all.”

Kelia started to cry. She was still bent over, wiping vomit from her chin.

“I hope you’ll heed our warning, Starling,” Agatha continued, her voice loud and clear even over the sound of Kelia vomiting. “You don’t want to be food for the birds, do you?”

All Kelia could focus on was settling her stomach.

“I’m sorry,” Wendy said in a low murmur. “If I had my abilities, I would be able to concoct something for you.”

“You will not even speak of your abilities, witch,” Agatha sneered. “If you had any sense, you would do what’s good for you and keep that filthy mouth shut.”

“You didn’t have to raise the alarm when Madeline ran off.” Hearing Wendy say the girl’s name, Kelia’s heart clenched. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she blinked rapidly to get rid of them as quickly as possible, without Wendy seeing. “She was scared,” Wendy went on, “and instead of showing compassion, you rang the alarm. You told everyone she was escaping. You’re responsible for her painful death. Mark my words, you’ll get yours. You’ll rue the day you sentenced that girl to die.”

Agatha paled, her fingers visibly shaking as she continued to clutch the stone talisman.

“That’s another two whips,” she said.

“Worth it,” Wendy said.

Kelia looked to Wendy as Agatha pushed back to the front of the line. Her stomach still fluttered, not fully recovering from her illness, but she felt better now that her stomach had emptied.

“Thank you,” Kelia murmured under her breath.

“Do not thank me,” Wendy said, her voice crisp, her eyes on Madeline’s mangled form. “I was too late to ease Madeline’s suffering. No one knew what happened until she was already hanging up there, her back ripped open with the leather whip. When they let the Shadows loose, there was nothing I could do. I don’t have my magic.”

Wendy’s voice broke, and she took a breath before continuing. “They scented her blood, and she was taken advantage of for the night. From where I was, I could hear her screams until they faded with the morning.” She clenched her teeth, trying to keep her voice from trembling. “I should have done more, but I could not. The wards prevented me from doing so.”

Kelia didn’t know what she was doing, but she reached out and took Wendy’s hand in hers. “I don’t know how,” she said, her voice quiet and unsure, “but we will get out of this. We will get through this. Not just you and I—” She looked at the four women in front of her, following Agatha like a herd of mindless cows. “—but all of us. I promise you.”

“I find I’m actually inclined to believe you, Slayer,” Wendy said. “If it is true and you do possess some sort of relationship with my brother, you are much more resourceful than I initially assumed.”

Kelia focused on the horizon. The rain was light, so light it fell like soft whispers to the earth. Wendy seemed at peace in the rain, comfortable and not at all bothered by it. Kelia found she was drawn to the turbulent weather as well. The crash of the waves against the shore, angry and demanding, rumbled nearby. The ships and boats rocked against the surface of the water, the lighter boats nearly tipping over but somehow managing to stay afloat.

“I knew her.” The words came out of her mouth before she could stop them. She had never confessed anything to anyone, save for the time she broke down crying in front of Drew Knight regarding her father. How fitting of her to do the same thing with his sister. “The…” She nodded her head back to Madeline’s body, but she could not find the proper words to aptly describe her.

“Madeline,” Wendy said in a soft voice. “You knew Madeline.”

Kelia nodded, but when she went to repeat Madeline’s name, she found she could not say it. Her voice choked on the word and instead of the name, she let out a small, broken squeak.

“We, uh.” Kelia shook her head as she continued to step with one foot in front of the other. “We washed dishes together.” She tried to blink away her tears, but they fell regardless. She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “I didn’t remember her name. When she switched positions, I didn’t see her again. I didn’t even care.”

“We make choices,” Wendy said. “The best thing we can do is learn from them. And plot your revenge. Revenge is the most important part.”

Kelia glanced at her in surprise. “I have always heard the opposite,” she said. “Learn from your mistakes. Move on. Bite your tongue, keep your chin up.”

“That’s shit,” Wendy said. “Sometimes, the only thing that keeps me going is the look on their faces when I eventually burn them all. And I will.”

Kelia turned once more to the sea. Somehow, her feet had continued to move while her mind had stayed with Madeline. Now, she stood on the rickety wooden deck before a small boat swaying on the waves.

“Remember not to scream,” Wendy said in a voice that was nearly drowned out by the rain, which was falling harder now.

Once she was violated and brutalized, Kelia would step off the boat and into the rain. It would wash away any trace of the Shadow who was partnered with her, and from there, she would shed her skin and grow it back thicker so the next time would not be so traumatic.

Because Wendy was right. The only way for Kelia to survive this would be knowing, without a doubt, she would be able to extract a brutal revenge and leave no survivors.

For Madeline. For Wendy. For them all.

She just needed to figure out how.

23

Nearly a week passed before Drew Knight decided to act. After what he learned from Kelia, the danger she could be in, he didn’t want to risk leaving her in the program any longer.

On the seventh day, he was ready. He couldn’t touch land until nightfall, and the wait was agony. He should have been sleeping throughout the day, ensuring when the sun set his body would be rested, his mind would be prepared. Instead, he was awake, thinking of all the different things he planned to do to Rycroft, depending on how he found Kelia and what state she was in.

Drew paced the ship, his eyes narrowed, his mouth set in a scowl. It was his fault she was in that program. She’d done it to find his sister, because he’d failed to do so on his own. He growled his anger at himself, and his fangs pressed against his bottom lip.

This was his fault. But he had asked one favor of her, and she’d already done what was asked. There was no reason for her to continue to do anything more.

Still, he should have accounted for her stubborn streak. Kelia wouldn’t rest until Wendy was found, and for that, Drew was to blame for bringing her into this in the first place.

Had Kelia felt responsibility in Wendy’s capture because her father had created this program? Could that be the driving force that thrust her into harm’s way?

“You’re burning a hole through the deck.”

He stopped his pacing in the middle of the deck and turned. Even though Emma had a small, amused smile on his face, Drew couldn’t bring himself to react the same way.

“Did you hear from your contact?” Drew all but barked.

“Yes, of course,” Emma said, walking toward him, her hips swaying with each step. “Has Daniella not come through with everything you’ve asked? She told us the schedules of the guards, and even where Kelia’s new room is as a Sightless.”

“Your contact—” Drew refused to say her name. “—was also the one who felt it necessary to attack Kelia.”

“She found out what I refused to tell her,” Emma said. The amusement had vanished from her eyes. “That Kelia’s father created the breeding program. You know what happened to Daniella when Rycroft realized he had the daughter of an earth witch.”

“Gregory Starling would not have allowed such a thing to happen if he had known,” Drew pointed out. The sun had almost vanished behind the horizon. His feet itched to touch land once more, to carry himself to Kelia in an instant.

“And how would you know that?” Emma asked, jutting out her hip and placing her hand on it.

“You think I haven’t done my research on any Slayers who might have taken my sister?” Drew asked. “Gregory Starling was a foolish man, hell-bent on revenge because the love of his life was killed by a siren.”

“Then why not experiment on a siren?” Emma snapped. “Why take Daniella? Why take Wendy? Earth witches are vastly different than sea demons.” She spat, as if to emphasize her thoughts on sirens.

“Maybe he did not know the difference,” Drew suggested. If he was not so focused on trying to get Kelia out of her dire circumstance, he would have smirked at Emma’s uncharacteristic gesture. She was a lady as much as she was a witch, even when she disguised herself as a whore. Spitting was not something she did. “Maybe he thought witches were witches and that was the end of it.”

“Perhaps,” Emma allowed. “My problem is earth witches being punished for the actions of a siren. Daniella was punished, and Wendy is being punished now. I was punished when I was there, too. Gregory Starling might have been ignorant, but ignorance is not an adequate defense. He is just as responsible as Rycroft.”

“But you do not blame Kelia for the sins of her father,” Drew said. His eyes continued to remain on the horizon. There was only ten minutes left of being trapped on his ship. Then he could go to Kelia. He could get to Wendy. He could free them from their prison.

“I do not,” Emma said, her voice curt. “And I do not think she should be held accountable or punished for his actions.” She glanced to the corner of the ship where the staircase descended below deck. “Do you intend to involve your Infant in this rescue mission?”

“His love for my sister is unquestionable,” Drew admitted, “but that fierce passion would not necessarily translate into assistance. He could risk everything.”

“So could you, by going for Kelia,” Emma said. When Drew turned to throw a glare in her direction, she was already walking on the opposite side of the ship, her hands delicately placed behind her back. “Do not argue with me, Andrew Knight. If for some inexplicable reason, you see yourself as partly—if not fully—responsible for all that happened to Kelia—her lashings, her ruined reputation, her participation in the breeding program—then you must remind yourself that she sought you out, not the other way around.”

“Yes, but I made her a deal,” Drew said. “We can manipulate diction so it works in our favor, but that doesn’t mean it’s true. That doesn’t make it right. Kelia wanted to know that her father was murdered and why, and I did not technically deliver my entire part of the bargain. All she had to do was find out for certain that Wendy was here, at The Society. Not only did she do that, she volunteered to be part of the breeding program to ensure that was the case. For me. She made that sacrifice for me.”

“Rycroft could have forced her to be in that program, Drew,” Emma murmured. “She might not have had a choice in the matter.”

“Perhaps,” Drew admitted. “But the way she spoke of it, of being part of that program…” He shook his head and sauntered to the side of the ship. starboard gave him a better view of the horizon as he rested his forearms against the bannister, hunching his back and feeling the stretch. “She did not fight it. She told me as much. She did this to find Wendy, to ensure The Society had her. For my sake.”

“If she found Wendy in that program, how would she tell you?” Emma asked gently, coming to stand next to Drew at starboard. She didn’t touch him—Emma wasn’t the sort to give and receive any sort of physical affection regardless of what the situation was—but her presence next to him was meant to reassure him, as much as she could. “You must remember what happened, Drew. I was there. I remember. I remember what happened to a child…” She clenched her teeth, and Drew knew not to push. “Luckily, she got out. But what she had to endure…I would not wish that on my enemy. If you had not gotten Wendy to rescue me, I might still be in the program. Then again, she would not have taken my place.” She let out a breath. “What are you doing now, the minute the sun meets the water and melts into it?”

Drew whipped his head at her. “I plan to go after her,” he said, as though this was obvious. “I can only hope nothing has happened yet.”

“You must prepare yourself that it has,” Emma said. She straightened, bringing her hands together in front of her and resting them on her waist. “Tell me, will you still care about her if her innocence has been stolen from her? If she is only a shell of who she once was? You don’t know what it’s like—”

“I don’t claim to.” Drew never had the urge to be violent against a woman in his entire century-long life. But even the thought he wouldn’t care about Kelia simply if she’d been attacked caused fury to ripple through his body. “Kelia is someone I will always—” He stopped himself, unsure what to say, exactly. He shook his head and once again turned to the horizon. Just looking at it calmed him down. “You insult me.”

“You’re not like other men,” Emma said.

“Because I am not a man. I am a beast.”

“I don’t like men anyway,” Emma said with a shrug.

Drew smirked. The sun was nearly there. It painted a long streak of bright colors—pink, gold, blue, lavender. It was beautiful.

As a Shadow, he appreciated sunsets even more than he had when he was alive only because it granted him his freedom. The older he got, however, the more he realized that touching land was not as important as other things. Friendships, food, beauty in all things.

“And Christopher?” Emma asked, breaking Drew out of his thoughts. “Am I to keep him on a leash? He’s going to wonder why you’ve gone, since you never really leave this ship anymore.”

“He will only make things worse in his passion, especially if Wendy is present,” Drew said, touching his chin with his finger. “And who knows how she will react upon seeing him? It’s best if he stays onboard.”

“I’ll do my best,” she muttered.

“Your contact,” Drew said. “Where can I meet her? Will she help me? How can I trust her?”

“You ask a lot of questions, Drew Knight,” Emma said, sighing. “Can you just trust me? Daniella will be in empty rooms, filling up water basins beginning at eight o’clock this evening. That gives you an hour. She knows you’ll be coming tonight. I told her to meet you in Kelia’s old room just after eight. You can trust her. She loathes The Society almost as much as you do. Her father, when he found out her mother was a witch…”

Emma let her voice trail off, but anger flashed in her eyes, and she continued. “The Society offered to take her, to ensure she never came into her powers. What they did to her, I cannot even speak of it. But you can trust her, even after what she did to Kelia. Perhaps even because of it. The goal was to find Wendy, correct? In whatever way possible. And now, Kelia can do just that.”

“Did Daniella know Wendy was part of the program?” Drew asked.

Emma shrugged. “Wendy fell into their hands after helping me escape. Daniella was removed from the program earlier.” Emma paused. “I trust her, Drew. So, if you trust me, that should be enough.”

Drew wasn’t sure about that, but he would take Emma’s word only because she had never steered him down the wrong path.

He went back to starboard and waited for the sun to leave. He drummed his fingers on the side of the ship, tapped his foot. He needed to leave now, but leaving early would be his absolute death, and he couldn’t save anyone if he was dead.

The minute the sun disappeared, he rowed from his ship to the land, using the small rowboat with the same speed that some men run. He knew where he was going like he knew the color of Kelia’s eyes. He didn’t have to think about it. He didn’t have to stop and remember. Getting to the fortress was part of him, an urgency that could match nothing else.

Trees and bushes reacted seconds after he had already pushed past them. There was a delayed reaction when dirt kicked up behind him as well. As the jungle turned more habitable, with more houses, more lights, more noises, Drew sped up. He didn’t need anyone recognizing him, anyone suspecting him at this moment, not when he had somewhere to be.

The fortress was in sight. He already knew where Kelia’s room was. He would just need to hop the wall, cross the rooftop, and drop down. It was a good thing the rain had all but stopped. Mist filled the air, and gentle drops fell from the sky like tears falling from a woman trying to keep her sadness at bay.

The mist hid him, and he found the roof with no one sounding the alarm.

He jumped onto the roof without needing to scale the wall and reached Kelia’s room without issue. There was no light emanating from her window. He had hoped perhaps everyone had been mistaken and she was still tucked safely inside, but this was not to be the case.

He slid open her window and hopped into her bedroom quarters without a sound. As he turned to close the window, a voice pierced the silence.

“Right on time. I find myself surprised.”

Drew finished his task before turning around and taking in Emma’s contact. She was taller than Kelia by about half a head. Her red hair was pulled back with ribbon and barrettes, and she wore a familiar grey dress.

Her brown eyes narrowed with obvious distrust, her lips pressed into a thin white line as she studied him without fear. Or perhaps she was afraid but had learned through experience appropriate ways to mask it. She set down the large jug she was holding on the boudoir before resuming her inspection of him.

“Daniella?” His voice was curt. He didn’t care if it came across as rude. He wanted to move quickly and couldn’t spare any time for niceties.

“Drew.” She stepped forward. “Emma said you would require my assistance in person?”

“Take me to the breeding program,” he instructed. “You do know where it is, yes?”

“As a Sightless, I am bound to my task,” she said. “They would get suspicious if I did not complete it.”

Drew furrowed his brow. “Do you know where the camp is, then?” His voice was gruff. He couldn’t find it in him to put on his usual front of being a charming gentleman. Time was of the essence. He didn’t know if Kelia was safe, in a bed, sleeping, or if her skin was being ripped apart and her innocence devoured. “I need to know now.”

Daniella strode from next to the boudoir and walked over to the window. Drew followed her.

“Can you make out the barn just there?” She pointed to the silhouette of a large building in the distance. It was still within the fortress and on The Society’s land. “After Kelia was accepted into the program, I followed them. If she hasn’t been taken to her mate yet, she’ll be there.”

“And where are the mates kept?”

Daniella shook her head. “They move them around, same as they move around the breeding program. But usually the two are kept close by.”

Drew nodded, but something was still bothering him. There were still questions he wanted answered. “How about why she was assigned to the program? Can you tell me that?”

Daniella took a step back and averted her gaze. “What’s it to you?” she asked. “The goal was to find Wendy. No matter what the cost. Now you are closer to that goal, are you not?”

Drew glared at her, then turned to the window, preparing to head for the barn.

“You care for her,” Daniella murmured before he could leave.

Drew said nothing and left. He didn’t think it was necessary to dignify her shock with a response, even if it was true.

24

Agatha had a grin on her face—one that Kelia didn’t trust—as Wendy stepped onto the boat. Kelia and the four women were forced to follow suit. Her cheeks burned with heat despite being surrounded by mist, despite the gentle touch of the rain on her skin and clothing. Her feet moved as though tied to anchors, refusing to cross the deck.

“Why are we on a boat?” Kelia asked. “The sun is down for the day. Shadows can touch land. Why keep them confined?”

“And clean up the mess?” Agatha regarded Kelia as though she were some sort of idiot. “We can control them if they are on the boat, and knowing that you are coming compels them to stay. Silver lathers the door so they cannot break it down even if they wanted to.”

“So you turn them into ravaging monsters by keeping them cooped up,” Kelia said.

Wendy paused by a small staircase that seemed to lead belowdeck. “I agree with Kelia. You shouldn’t keep them confined when they need to let their energy out.”

Agatha stepped from the dock and onto the boat. “Well now, Wendy, you should know better. What do you think you are for?” She faced all the ladies on the boat. “Come along, ladies. I’ll show each of you which stable you’ll be assigned to for the evening.”

She walked into a small room abovedeck. From where Kelia stood, it was difficult to make out what, exactly, Agatha was doing in the room. However, the telltale drag of a match on wood hissed through the doorway, and the glow of a flame flared to life. Agatha emerged hand first, holding the candle, and shut the door behind her.

Kelia’s heart beat furiously in her ears as the women followed Wendy to the staircase, lining up behind her. Though she didn’t want to show her fear, she couldn’t help but feel it coursing through her body.

There was no escape from this. Not this time.

“Whose room is that?” Kelia asked.

“That room is irrelevant,” Agatha said. Her dark eyes glinted with amusement, as though she knew Kelia was trying to buy time before they went belowdeck. “Keep your mouth shut and get downstairs. It will save us a lot of time.”

Agatha caught Wendy’s glare, and her amusement vanished though she nodded as though to say, ‘It is time for you to go belowdeck and face your fate once more.’

Wendy clenched her jaw, turned, and headed down the staircase. Agatha had Kelia bring up the rear, as though prolonging the inevitable would make the first encounter that much more satisfying for Agatha to behold.

The stairs creaked under the weight of the group. One of the wooden panels was loose, and Kelia’s stomach fluttered when she stepped on it.

The minute she reached the floor, she could hear her heartbeat race even louder. It was too quiet. These Shadows were supposed to be starved and isolated. Even if they had retained any of their humanity before being turned, their treatment here would’ve vanquished that.

Though, to be fair, Kelia still wasn’t sure the true nature of the Sea Shadow. The Society made sure to emphasize their beast-like tendencies, the way they were completely unlike humans, the way they had no souls, which made killing them all the easier.

But after meeting Drew Knight, after being around his crew filled with just Shadows, she wasn’t so sure.

Even her encounter with Christopher Beckett, a man recently turned, left her curious more than fearful. He was currently in the preliminary stages of being a Shadow, which was supposed to make him more dangerous. Instead, he was charming, handsome, arrogant, and completely focused on finding his betrothed.

Perhaps the temperament of the Shadow came down to their creation?

They entered a hallway filled with shut doors. There didn’t seem to be a galley at all, which told Kelia these boats were specifically designed for this purpose. She sneered with bitterness at her father’s treachery.

“Now,” Agatha said. “Each mate, as you know, will have a go with you to ensure we meet the highest capacity of impregnating you. So don’t get too attached to your current partner; next time, you will switch.”

Kelia couldn’t help but look for a way out. This couldn’t be her reality. It just couldn’t.

“A word of advice,” Agatha said, pointing up a finger. “You are here for one purpose and one purpose alone. Do not attempt to speak to these monsters. Do not attempt to rationalize with them. They are not like you and me, even if they look the same. They do not have feelings. They are damned, and once they meet their forever death, they will rot in Hell.”

“How can they rot in Hell if they have no souls?” Wendy drawled in a tired voice.

Agatha shot Wendy a sharp look, then turned her attention to Kelia. “Do you have any questions, Starling? There are a few times—though it is a rare occurrence—when someone does not survive their first mate. I certainly hope that does not happen to you. Keep a strong countenance. I have heard you get queasy on the sea. Throwing up on your mate will only anger him, most likely. Try to keep your stomach down.”

“Why don’t you show her how to do it, Agatha?” Wendy quipped, leaning against the door of one of the rooms. How was she being so nonchalant about this? “Pretend you’re innocent all you want, but we both know your cunt has seen more action than mine.”

The color drained from Agatha’s face. “I would cast fire on you and watch you burn without even thinking of saving you,” Agatha muttered. “You are a waste of space and not even worth the science your body is being used for. But I trust The Society will realize that for themselves soon enough, and when they do, I will volunteer to see to your death myself.”

Wendy rolled her eyes and turned away to line up in front of the room she was assigned to.

“Go on, then,” Agatha said, slowly backing up to the wooden staircase they had just emerged from. “Go inside and do your duty. We will retrieve you in an hour—if we remember.”

Kelia cocked her head so she could look at Agatha. “And what if we don’t go in?”

“Must we take another visit to the body hanging in the elements as we speak?” Agatha asked. “You are here for one reason, and one reason alone. If you choose to run from your duty, we will catch you, and we will punish you with a death much worse than this life. Know that.”

Madeline’s body flashed in her mind, and she had to refrain from jerking over and dry heaving from nausea on an empty stomach. Instead, she turned to the door and took a deep breath. She curled her fingers into fists and pressed her nails into her palms.

Without waiting for further instruction, each woman took a step forward and knocked twice—loud and distinctively. Kelia followed suit. Perhaps she was warning the Shadow that she was here, preparing him.

Each woman then reached out and pulled down on the door handle, opening the door and stepping inside. Even in the darkness, Kelia could see the iridescent glow of liquid silver. No wonder the Shadows couldn’t escape. They were literally caged.

She hesitated. Her throat had gone dry. Her fingers, curling around the door handle, shook. She hated that she was scared, powerless to do anything regarding her circumstance.

She swallowed and took another deep breath. This was happening whether she wanted it to or not, but there was one thing she could control, and that was ensuring they didn’t see her fear. Not The Society, and not the Shadow in this room.

She would follow Wendy’s advice. She wouldn’t scream. Wouldn’t react. She would just lie down and stare up at the ceiling, counting the seconds until it was over.

“Why do you hesitate, Slayer?” Agatha asked, coming to stand next to Kelia. “You did not hesitate when you were spreading your legs for Drew Knight. Surely you knew eventually you would get caught and punished for your sinful behavior.”

Kelia grunted and opened the door. She would rather face whatever horrors lie in the room rather than listen to the rubbish that came from this woman.

Before Agatha could say anything more, Kelia stepped into the dark room and shut the door behind her. The lock clicked, telling Kelia she was now trapped inside. She didn’t move from her position by the door, but waited until her eyes adjusted to the darkness.

“I can hear you breathe, Slayer,” a voice murmured. It was silky, seductive, and accented. He was from Spain, if she had to guess.

“Good for you,” she snapped, though her voice came out shakier than she would have preferred.

“You’re new.” His words slid down her spine like a serpent and caused her flesh to break out into goosebumps. He sniffed deeply a couple of times. “I can smell your purity. I am honored you would allow me to claim your virginity. Blood always tastes sweeter when it’s their first time.”

Kelia turned, trying to narrow in on where the voice was coming from. It was silent, save for her breathing. She couldn’t even hear what was happening in the rooms adjacent to hers.

“Well, you’re mistaken,” she said finally, forcing her voice to come out stronger than it had the first time. “Firstly, I am not allowing you anything. I am here against my will, as you surely well know. Secondly, the only reason I am here is because of my relationship with Drew Knight. I’m sure you’ve heard of him?”

The Shadow spit. “Drew Knight is a traitor to his own kind,” he snapped. “The Queen picked him as her partner, bestowed eternal life on him, and he betrayed her in return.”

Kelia stilled. This was interesting. Perhaps she could keep him talking. She knew there would be no escaping the impending assault, however, she might be able to acquire information she could share with Wendy to help execute their plot of freeing themselves from this hell.

“Perhaps the Queen deserved it,” Kelia said slowly. She didn’t know if she said the right thing, but at least her voice wasn’t as shaky as it had been.

The Shadow spat again. Kelia glanced down, but besides the occasional hint of brown, everything around her was still wrapped up in shadows.

“The Queen is as generous as a mother,” the Shadow said. He sounded closer to her, but when she whipped around, he wasn’t there. “As beautiful as a lover. She brings us life. Our only goal in life should be to please her.”

“The Queen created you?” Kelia asked. “Then who created the Queen? I thought The Society created you.”

She knew young Infants were more beastly than their older counterparts. Now, however, she couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to a Shadow than simply their age. Like parents, did a Shadow’s Maker—regardless of who it was—have some effect on their child?

The Shadow laughed. “Do you know nothing, Slayer? The Society makes Shadows as weapons. They preach Shadows are nothing more than animals, so of course they create Shadows to match those expectations. The Queen, however… When she takes, she gives. Your Drew Knight was the first Shadow she created. I suppose that’s why she’s so taken with him.”

Kelia clenched her jaw. Her heart quickened, making it difficult to breathe.

“Drew was made by the Queen?” she asked.

“Most of us were, and those who were not are still welcomed by her.” He sighed, almost whimsically. “I long to go to the Isle de Sangre. The Queen sent me here to assist with this experience. I would do anything for her. Anything. Did you know Rycroft wanted to breed you with us? To see what else could be created?”

Kelia nearly wretched. It might have to do with her seasickness, but she had a feeling it had more to do with Rycroft trying to take her father’s program and make it worse than it was before, making it a punishment for those who did not fall in line rather than some kind of disgusting scientific experiment based on revenge.

“I thought Rycroft was originally against the implementation of this program,” she managed to get out. In fact, she assumed he’d only become involved now as some kind of personal revenge against her. “Why would he change his mind?”

“You think someone like Rycroft confides in me?” the Shadow asked. “What would I know about what he thinks?”

Kelia could feel him getting closer to her, though his footsteps were too silent to hear. All she had was an instinct telling her he was just behind her, where if she even tilted her head back slightly, she would feel him.

“There’s your heartbeat once again, Slayer,” he said. His voice caressed her ear and slid down the side of her throat. “You say Drew Knight claimed you? I do not smell him on you. You see, Slayer, if a Shadow claims innocence, the scent lingers for the rest of their life. They will always be a part of you. There is no scent on you at all, which tells me your innocence is intact. How strange you lied about that, only to land yourself here… What truth could be worse that you were trying to protect?”

Kelia stepped away. “How long have you been a Shadow?”

He seemed to like talking about himself. Maybe she could distract him a little longer, get a few more answers.

“You know I will have you tonight, Slayer,” the Shadow said. “Why delay the inevitable?”

“I don’t know,” Kelia said honestly. “Perhaps I want some semblance of control, one last shred of it, before I am forced to succumb to my fate. Is that too much to ask?”

“You think I like being caged in here, only being fed when they bring pretty young humans for me as food?” the Shadow asked. “You think I want to raise fear in my partner? You think I want my food fearing me?”

Kelia didn’t know what to say. Whether he wanted that or not, it’s what he was doing. Surely he had more choice here than she did?

“The Society will not let us tempt them, will not let them manipulate them with my abilities,” he went on. “Those trinkets around your neck protect from all the magic in this world…not just the magic of witches. It would be far more pleasurable for you, and easier for me, if I were allowed to use my influence on you. I may like to be powerful, but I do not like resistance. If I could have my way, all of you would be begging to crawl into bed with me.”

Kelia snorted before she could stop herself. Before she knew it, fingers clamped on her throat, and she was raised up in the air by the Shadow. She started to cough.

“Do you find my feelings amusing, wench?”

Shadows danced across the beast’s face. Kelia looked down at the handsome face. Smooth olive skin mainly void of color. Dark, angry eyes rimmed in red. Curly black hair. A lean, muscled body. He was dressed in ripped clothing—what once used to be a white tunic and black pantaloons.

Outwardly, he was beautiful. But there was something dark in him. He would have no problem breaking her and taking what he wanted.

25

With the Sea Shadow’s hands wrapped around her neck, Kelia couldn’t breathe. She was losing oxygen. Stars shot across her vision, and she clawed at the hand that held her throat, to no avail.

So this was how she would die, then. Her eyes clouded with tears. She had so much she wanted to do. The women who were still here…she did not want to leave them to this life. She wanted to escape from The Society—

She should have gone with Drew. She should have left.

Her throat squeezed in. Her vision turned red. Her grip on the Shadow’s hand loosened. She could do nothing more to fight—

A loud bang caused her to momentarily forget she was losing oxygen. Agatha screamed in the distance. Wood cracked and splintered, and then the door disintegrated into a heap of dust.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything too pressing,” a familiar voice drawled.

Kelia would have laughed if she was not closing in on losing most of her oxygen due. She managed to pull away from the Shadow’s face, her hands grabbing his as she tried to free herself from his grasp. It was no use, of course. His grip was fierce and unrelenting.

Drew Knight, however, was somehow standing in the doorway of the room she was assigned to, his dark eyes narrowed fiercely, his posture hunched like a jungle cat tracking its prey. How he was able to have touched the door, let alone break it down, with the liquid silver drenching the wood, Kelia did not know. Nor did she care. Though she hoped she lived to find out.

Drew looked unsettled, however. Not quite weak, but not at his full strength. Hopefully he hadn’t injured himself.

Her heart pounded in her chest, and she couldn’t help but think the Keepers, or perhaps her own father, had sent her a guardian in the form of a Sea Shadow.

“Let her go,” Drew said, slowly another step, into entering the room. The ground seemed to vibrate with every step. Kelia could hear it shake, even from her position in the air. “Or I will rip out your throat and paint this room with your blood.”

“You would do this to your own kind?” the Shadow asked.

“I would not even hesitate.” Drew’s usually slurred voice was clear and concise. He stopped a few paces in front of the Shadow. So far, he had yet to look at Kelia. His entire focus had been on the Shadow.

Kelia squirmed, but she found that, as she did, she lost more air than when she stayed still. She sunk her fingernails into the Shadow’s skin, but he didn’t seem affected by it at all.

Slowly, the Shadow lowered her. The minute he released her, she dropped to the floor. She sucked in as much air as she could, nearly choking on that as well.

She could feel Drew’s eyes on her, and when she looked up at him, he met her gaze. Concern was easy to decipher in the warm pools of brown, and her insides melted. The way he looked at her made her feel special, cared for.

“I should kill you,” the Shadow said, spitting at Drew’s feet. “You are a traitor.”

“I betrayed no one, as I’ve never pledged my allegiance to any person, man or beast,” Drew said with a shrug. The slur had come back, and his lips curled into a small grin. “All the sides are pretty terrible, if you think about it.”

Kelia pulled herself to a standing position. She took in another breath, positioning herself to attack as best as she could in case the Shadow came after her again. She couldn’t trust he would obey Drew, especially considering he was eyeing her with cold calculation, as though he wanted to harm her in some way just to get a reaction from Drew.

Something glimmered. The Shadow was wearing something—a trinket, perhaps? But why?

For the thousandth time, she wished she had her trusted blade hanging on her hip. She would not have needed Drew’s help if she had.

“Your smell was not even on her,” the Shadow said. “She said she was not as pure as she smells. She claims you possess her innocence. But I cannot smell you on her. Does she lie on your behalf?”

How would Drew react to that? He might know she lied about the nature of their relationship to hide her true intention of finding out what happened to her father, but he didn’t need to know that she was also using his name to protect herself from other Shadows.

Drew, however, didn’t skip a beat. His expression belied nothing. “Why would any human, especially a Slayer, lie about such a thing?” he asked.

“So you admit to her claim?” The Shadow turned to Kelia.

Kelia tensed, unsure what the Shadow intended to do. Drew Knight was probably one of the fastest creatures on this planet, but that didn’t mean he could stop a Shadow with similar speed from attacking her.

“I admit nothing to you,” Drew said. “Kelia belongs to no one but herself. She cannot be claimed. She cannot be taken unless she gives her consent. You are no one to me, and the nature of my relationship with her is none of your business.”

The Shadow looked as though he couldn’t understand how Drew was speaking about respecting a human woman. More than that, a Slayer, the mortal enemy to the Shadow.

Kelia herself also couldn’t believe what Drew had said, but for different reasons. She knew he was unique—he had behaved unexpectedly since the night they first met—but she hadn’t expected him to speak about her in this way, especially to a fellow Shadow.

Drew took a step closer to the Shadow. “You, on the other hand, seem incapable of understanding consent. Am I right to believe you’ve violated women before?”

The Shadow glanced behind Drew, probably calculating how fast he needed to be to make it through the door without Drew Knight catching him.

Impossible. All Drew would need to do was reach out and grab the Shadow by the collar. The Shadow had no way to escape. The Shadow was trapped in a cage without bars.

Before Kelia knew what was happening, the Shadow darted behind her and wrapped his arm around her neck so his hand was pressed flat against her bare chest. His other hand gripped her waist, positioning her so she covered much of his body.

He was using her as some sort of human shield against Drew, and the hand on her chest was positioned to show Drew he could choke her or sink his fangs into her neck quicker than Drew could save her.

Drew’s face paled. But why did he care? Why the absolute look of terror? She’d never seen him appear worried before.

His mouth dropped into a surprised ‘o’ shape, highlighting his sharp cheekbones. There was no masking his feelings, no pretending that he was anything but fearful of what might happen to her.

“You,” Drew began slowly, his voice crisp, his eyes narrowed on Kelia’s throat, “are playing a very dangerous game, mate.”

“So it is true,” the other Shadow murmured, more to himself than to Drew. Kelia tried to concentrate on his positioning behind her. Maybe there was a way she could free herself, or at least distract him before he could harm her—or worse. “You care for this human.”

Was it wrong for Kelia to be curious of the answer? She had written him off as both cruel and secretive. He’d acquired all he needed from her. There was no reason to see her again. And yet, here he was. He knew Wendy was here as well, and somehow, he was in this room with Kelia, trying to save her instead of his sister.

“What do you want?” Drew asked, completely avoiding the question—not a denial, not an admittance.

“I want to escape,” he said. “I want to be free.”

“You’re a Sea Shadow,” Drew said. “You will never be free. Your life will always be controlled by the sun and the moon, the tide and the waves. The only way to free yourself from this misery is to die your real death.”

“I don’t want to die,” the Shadow said. His grip on her tightened with every word. “And I won’t have to. I will return to the Queen, the mother of all Shadows. She will take care of me.”

Kelia wanted more information on this Queen, especially considering Drew did not seem to like her in the slightest.

His jaw locked. “The Queen will not take you unless you have something that will benefit her.”

The Shadow paused behind Kelia, and she almost smiled. If Drew was correct, the other Shadow had nothing that would help his cause.

“You don’t think information on your whereabouts would be desirable to her?” the Shadow asked.

His breath tickled the back of Kelia’s neck, and it took everything in her not to squirm beneath it. She gritted her teeth, keeping her body tight and solid just in case she found an opening she could use to her advantage.

“More than that,” the Shadow continued, “if I brought her this wench, you don’t think that would...inspire her? To know her first progeny has found himself someone else to consume himself in? Are you willing to break your Queen’s heart, I wonder?”

Drew snarled. “She is not my Queen.” His nostrils flared as he spoke. “And she will not know any of that information because I will turn the ocean red with your blood.”

“We’ll see,” the Shadow said. “You do know that even if I don’t get out of here alive, you will die, right? It won’t just be The Society and the East India Company after you. She will be after you as well. The Queen is nothing if not patient and desiring of loyalty from the heart. She has left you to your devices for nearly a century after you betrayed her, waiting for the day you would come crawling back to her of your own accord. But you know just as well as I that if she finds out you have given your heart to another, she will summon you. And you cannot refuse a summons from the Queen.”

Kelia locked her gaze on Drew, but he seemed unperturbed by this claim.

She tried to even her breathing. This was too much information, too quickly. The Society never touched on the Queen, except as the Creator. No one thought to ask who created the Queen or how she affected those she turned.

Drew’s fangs extracted, covering his bottom lip. His eyes darkened and narrowed on the other Shadow. His entire body was hunched, ready to leap into action and take Kelia’s captor out. The way she practically covered the Shadow’s entire body, however, left no room for mistake. If Drew was going to attack, he needed to be precise.

When Drew didn’t respond, the Shadow prodded him further. “What will you do then, Mr. Knight? What will do when you can no longer evade the Queen? When you have broken her heart and invited her wrath?”

Drew snarled. “I will do as I always do—whatever I please.”

“Not anymore.” The Shadow sounded amused. “Now you’ll do as I please. Unless you want your lover to die before your very eyes.”

Drew took a threatening step toward them. The Shadow laughed, a sickening sound that did little to drown out Kelia’s heartbeat.

Something tapped against her neck, and she jumped before realizing it was just rain. She could hear it now, falling on the deck of the ship. Some must have slipped through the cracks of the planks above them.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Knight.” His grip on her tightened. “I could slit her throat with my damn fingernail. Would you still be her gallant hero? Or would you drink her blood before it turned cold, while you still could? It smells so pure…”

His licked her, and her stomach twisted.

But she had her opening.

Kelia stomped on his foot. It was a dangerous move considering his mouth was close to her throat, and she wouldn’t know how he was going to react. But she felt she needed to do something, and she knew she could survive a bite if she had to, so long as she could make a run for it after.

The Shadow grunted. His teeth started to clamp down. Kelia had already bent her knees, though, elbowed him in the stomach, and started to pull away. His teeth only grazed her shoulder instead, the venom from his fangs stinging her but not slowing her down as she struggled to rip herself away from him.

But the Shadow was still stronger and faster.

Though Kelia was no longer as firmly in his grasp, he still had a hold on her arm and was quickly regaining control.

While the Shadow was distracted, however, Drew leapt forward and landed behind him. He pulled the Shadow away from Kelia, and she dropped to her knees.

Drew dodged every blow and managed to grab onto the Shadow. Just as the Shadow opened his mouth, Drew used his right hand to claw into the Shadow’s chest. Kelia couldn’t believe her eyes as Drew’s hand stuck out of the Shadow’s back.

Drops of dark crimson fell out of her captor’s mouth. He tried to part his lips, but besides a raspy grunt and a gurgle from the back of his throat, no sound came out. He blinked once, staring at Drew as if he had never seen him before. Then he burst into ash, scattering on everything.

Kelia let out a shriek. Then, just as quickly, she was overcome with an embarrassment that made her cheeks and ears burn hot. She had never been the sort to scream when scared—that had always been Jennifer’s bad habit—but with everything that had happened in the past couple of hours, she was quick to forgive herself.

Drew, completely ignoring the falling ash, went to Kelia. He dropped to his knees and pulled her into his arms.

“Have you been harmed?” he asked. She couldn’t speak; her mouth had gone dry. When she remained silent, he dropped one hand from Kelia’s arm and took her chin. “Kelia. I know you are in shock, but I need to hear your voice. I need to know you’re all right.”

Kelia blinked and focused on Drew.

“You came for me,” she said, almost in disbelief.

“Of course I came for you,” he said. “I will always come for you.”

Pieces of ash touched her cheek, and the rain started falling harder, more water slipping through. The stinging droplets jolted her attention, reminding her that she wasn’t the only person who had come close to a brutal, violent attack.

“How?” she managed to get out. “The silver?”

Drew smirked, and Kelia nearly cried at the sight of something familiar, so bright in such a hopeless setting.

“I had help from a witch,” he said, indicating the pendant hanging from his neck.

“We have to find Wendy,” she said, trying to stand. She nearly lost her footing, but Drew stood and grabbed her wrist, preventing her fall. “The others. We need to save them.”

He opened his mouth, pausing for a moment, then nodded.

“Let’s go,” he said.

Kelia knew he had left something unspoken, but with the others in danger, now was not the time to ask what.

26

Because Drew had broken the door into mere splinters, there was nothing inhibiting them from running out of the room.

“There,” Kelia said, pointing to the far exit. “Wendy’s in there. Where’s Agatha?”

“Agatha?”

“The woman keeping us here. I heard her scream.”

“Ah, well,” Drew said. “That wretch of a woman ran off before I could compel her to forget ever seeing me, and I was too focused to find you to stop her.”

Kelia nodded, then headed to the door next to hers, but Drew grabbed her wrist.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked. His voice was wild. Not necessarily accusatory, but insistent with worry. Kelia would have felt touched if there weren’t other women potentially being raped right this moment.

“There are others,” she said simply. Firmly.

“And you think you can stop them just by barging in?” Drew asked. “You will anger the Shadow, and he will go after you next. And things may go worse than the last time. I can’t allow it.”

Kelia understood Drew’s unspoken words. She hadn’t been able to handle the last Shadow. Without her weapons at hand, what did she expect to do in the next room?

Still, it didn’t seem right that Drew was the only one who was risking it all. And even though Shadows were fast, she couldn’t say how he was going to react when he saw his sister potentially being harmed or worse by her mate.

“I can’t stop you, can I?” Drew asked, giving her a long look. He heaved a frustrated sigh before reaching for his hip. Slowly, he pulled out a familiar blade from its sheath and pointed it to the roof above him so Kelia could see it. “Here…I believe this is yours.”

Rain fell from the deck, plopping on Kelia’s head and neck, but at the sight of her blade, she didn’t move to wipe the droplets away. Her lips tugged into a smile as she took the handle from Drew and held it the way she would as if she was preparing for battle—which she was.

“You kept it,” she said, tears accumulating in her eyes at the sudden swell of emotion. There was no time. She glanced over at Drew. “Separating is going to make this all go faster.”

“Don’t die, Slayer,” he told her, his voice heavy. “I would never forgive you if you did. Or myself.”

Kelia nodded. Drew turned to the door Kelia had pointed him to while she knelt at the one adjacent to her assigned room. She reached in her hair and pulled out her pins. She started sliding them in the lock, hoping even the Shadow’s sharp hearing would not pick up on what she was doing. In a manner of minutes, the lock clicked the door open. Kelia held her cutlass firmly in her hand and stood.

Using her foot, she kicked open the door. Her back screamed in pain, but she pushed through. Now was not the time to succumb.

Water pounded the windows and the deck. More trickled through the boards. It was clear these boats were cheaply made—mere cages meant to keep Shadows contained and controlled until their blood lust was so strong, throwing a woman at them to feed and fuck would be too irresistible. The Shadows didn’t fight The Society because they never had the strength to.

The Shadow rushed toward her. Kelia didn’t even get a clear view on which woman was in the room. Not that it mattered. She planned to save them all.

Kelia barely dodged the beast. Unlike Drew Knight, Christopher, or even the Spanish Shadow she had just faced, this one seemed more monster than man. It seemed as if he reacted rather than made decisions based on logic and rational thought. Why was there such a discrepancy in behavior? There had to be more to it than simply age.

Kelia grunted, falling onto the deck. Kelia’s back screamed in pain. Her muscles—that she had tried to keep active and fit—were weak thanks to the last week in the breeding program. She had not been eating as much, and besides walking around the barn, she was not permitted to do much else. Which made fighting more work than it had been.

The Shadow straddled her. This one wore a trinket similar to what Kelia wore. It must have to do with magic or protection.

“I shall feed from you before I finish my intended,” the Shadow rasped.

His head lunged forward, his fangs ready to bite her neck. Kelia raised her blade, slicing into his shoulder. The Shadow let out a scream that reverberated through the room and shook the floor. He fell off her.

Despite the pain she was in, she pushed herself to standing, her blade still gripped in her hand.

“You will pay for that, Slayer.”

It was difficult to hear his raspy voice over the hard rain.

Breathing hard, Kelia glanced around. The woman huddled in the corner. She seemed too shocked to scream or to cry. However, she managed to right her dress with shaking hands. Good. Something needed to get her moving. Now, Kelia insisted she run.

The Shadow screeched, pulling Kelia’s attention away from her companion and to the monster. He was running toward her, his red hair flying behind him. His eyes were practically yellow, his brow wrinkled, his nostrils flared.

Kelia took a breath. Her eyelids drooped with exhaustion, but she had to keep going.

She stepped out of the Shadow’s path. Emitting a loud grunt, she lifted her cutlass and sliced the Shadow’s abdomen. Another scream, and this time, the Shadow fell to his knees. The silver embedded in her cutlass was doing its job.

Kelia raised her cutlass and stabbed him again, this time in the heart. He howled in pain before disintegrating into ash.

She turned to the woman as she bolted to her feet and took off. Dirty-blonde hair. Sunken cheeks. Mary, she realized.

At least Mary got out okay.

But where was Drew? Had he rescued Wendy yet?

The rain was still falling too hard to hear what was happening in the other rooms. She needed to act fast. As she had found Mary in the middle of her attack, she hoped it wasn’t too late to save the others.

The second door she picked and kicked in found a Shadow bent over Riley, feeding from her neck. Her legs were spread out, liquid sliding down her thighs. She looked up at the ceiling. It was clear she was trying to find a place to think about that was anywhere but here.

The Shadow didn’t even look up. It would seem he was experiencing a rush of endorphins, and was now too engaged to notice he had additional company. Company intent to kill him.

Kelia ran straight for him and stabbed him in the back, careful not to nick Riley with the tip of her blade as it protruded from the Shadow’s chest cavity. He didn’t even get a chance to scream before he burst into ash.

Riley blinked as ash and rain fell from the sky. When her eyes focused, Kelia stepped toward her and offered her hand.

“You need to leave,” Kelia said.

“But…” She shook her head. “They will find me. Madeline—”

“Go,” Kelia insisted. “They don’t want you. Not when Drew Knight is here. Go while you still can.”

Riley took Kelia’s hand and stood off the bed, fixing her skirts. But then her legs seemed to weaken beneath her, and Kelia had to catch her from crashing to the floor.

“You need to find something to eat,” Kelia said, though she had nothing to recommend since there was no food on this boat. The women were the only food here. “You’re too weak.”

“Let me just rest,” Riley said. She placed a hand on her chest and inhaled. “I’m too tired.”

Kelia groaned and clenched her teeth to keep from yelling. It wasn’t Riley’s fault, and Kelia wasn’t mad at her. She was mad at the situation. She couldn’t imagine what the poor woman had just endured, and she wanted to ensure she was sympathetic. On the other hand, she had two other women to rescue, depending on how Drew was doing with Wendy and her Shadow.

“Stay here then,” Kelia said. “I have to get the others.”

It didn’t appear as though Riley even heard her.

Kelia went to the next door. There was still nothing from where Wendy last was. What if something had happened to Drew and he needed her help? She nearly went over there to see, but forced herself to stop. There were others who needed her help more than Drew Knight and Wendy Parsons. A Sea Shadow and a witch could hold their own. A regular human could not.

Kelia dropped to her knees and picked the door lock. When it clicked, this time even faster than the times before, a thrill of satisfaction wiggled through her. She stood back and kicked the door.

When she stepped into the room, however, she couldn’t see the Shadow. He was not between Cathleen’s legs nor feasting on her flesh. In fact, Cathleen had her back to Kelia, her body curved into the fetal position. She was still, except the movement of her breathing. It didn’t appear that she was crying. She was just staring at the wooden wall in front of her. She did not even seem phased by the water coming down around her from the rain.

Unease crawled up Kelia’s spine.

She brought her sword up, positioning so she could attack if needed. Her body was becoming more fatigued, her back screaming, her muscles tight. All she wanted was to soak herself into hot water and scrub off the grime, dirt, blood, and sweat.

She took one step into the room, and then another.

“Cathleen,” Kelia murmured. “Cathleen!”

When Cathleen still said nothing, Kelia nearly ran over to shake the woman awake, but resisted as the cold dread of reality settled over her skin.

Kelia took another step into the darkened room. She couldn’t see the Shadow anywhere. She whirled around, checking the corners behind her. The darkness would keep him obscured, wherever he was, though he wasn’t there, either.

Where could he be?

He had not left when she had opened the door, and he most certainly wasn’t here now. What was she missing?

A sound cracked above her. She looked up, only to see it was too late. The Shadow fell from his position on the ceiling, dropping onto her and extending his fangs.

“You really are much too loud, Slayer,” he said, his eyes focusing on her neck hungrily. “I heard you long before you reached me. Time to get this over with.”

He lunged for her neck. Kelia put her hand in his face, and his fangs pierced her palm instead. She screamed at the pain. Though her other hand clutched the cutlass, she could not find it in her to bring it up and defend herself. She was stuck, and there was a good chance she was going to die, if not endure something worse first.

At that moment, the Shadow was ripped away from her. Blood sprinkled the wooden floor, and Kelia clutched her hand, a groan of agony falling past her lips.

Her mouth dropped open when she saw Cathleen. So she had still been alive, though perhaps not for much longer now that the woman had intervened to save Kelia…

Before the Shadow could lunge for Cathleen, Kelia stepped into his path and thrust her cutlass toward him. It missed his heart, piercing his thigh instead. She’d been way off, out of practice and lost in the swirl of movement and darkness. Still, he howled in pain thanks to the silver the cutlass was fashioned from, then threw a slew of curse words and vile names at her.

Kelia needed to finish off the Shadow before he tried to attack her or Cathleen again. She stood, though she couldn’t reach her full height. Her side ached, and her right hand dripped blood like the rain falling through the cracks of the deck. Her muscles were tight and nearly immovable.

From the corner of her eye, Kelia noticed Cathleen pulling herself to stand. The Shadow focused only on Kelia, though, so if Kelia could keep him distracted, perhaps Cathleen could slink off.

“Did that hurt?” Kelia asked the Shadow in a mocking tone. “Shall I wait for you to bandage yourself up?”

“You foolish bitch,” the Shadow growled. He spat next to him, red blood dripping from his mouth. “You’re dead. After I claim your innocence, I’m going to drink from your thigh until you shrivel up into a heap of nothing. You will bring me life, and I will take yours away.”

Kelia couldn’t catch her breath. Cathleen had already picked herself up and ran off—something Kelia could not blame her for doing. She had already tried to save Kelia once, which was more than Kelia had expected. At least Kelia could stand to defend herself now.

When the Shadow lunged, she tried to keep her core solid, but her fatigue had reached its peak. She swung the blade; her attack was not fast enough. The Shadow dodged with ease. He grabbed her shoulders and pushed her to the ground, straddling her waist and flashing his elongated teeth.

Cathleen was gone.

Drew was rescuing Wendy.

There was a good chance Kelia would not survive this. And even if she did, she knew she would not be the same.

27

Kelia looked up at the Shadow through heavy eyes. She knew she had to keep going, but each time she tried to move something—her arm, her leg—she found she could not.

The Shadow dropped his head closer to her throat.

Kelia closed her eyes and threw her head forward. Pain shot through her forehead as it hit the Shadow. He dropped her to the floor, stunned. Kelia landed with a plop and lifted her arm above her head to shield herself from the impending attack, but it never came.

A gurgling noise caught Kelia by surprise. Her eyes snapped open to find Drew Knight grabbing the Shadow by the remains of his tunic.

Drew made the creature look weightless as he yanked him backward and sent him flying into the wall with a sickening thud. The Shadow fell into a heap on the floor.

After quickly finishing him off, Drew went over to Kelia and scooped her up into his arms. Ash sprinkled the room and stuck to the blood that splattered onto Kelia’s skin.

“Are you all right, princess?” he murmured.

Kelia managed to nod, but even minimal movement such as that was painful. He turned, prepared to take her outside, when his nose twitched, and he was forced to stop. He looked down at Kelia.

“You were bitten,” he said as though he already knew it as fact.

“Not precisely,” Kelia said. She brought up her hand to show him what had happened. “He tore through. I was trying to defend myself, and his fangs hit my hand.” She squeezed Drew’s shoulder. “We need to leave. Now. The Society could be coming.”

“At least it was not an artery,” Drew murmured. He stopped and set Kelia down, taking her palm into his hands. “Kelia, do you trust me?”

“Drew,” Kelia snapped. “My hand is not the more pressing issue.”

“I could rip anyone from this Society to shreds in a blink of an eye. I am not worried about them.” He paused, then asked again: “Do you trust me?”

Kelia swallowed, allowing herself time to really ponder the question. Drew Knight was an infuriating man…and a Shadow. He said what he wanted, did what he wanted, and lived his life by his own set of morals and values—ones that did not always align with Kelia’s. He kept things from her, things she had a right to know about. Things that she needed to know.

But he also risked everything, time and again, to check on her, heal her, save her.

Maybe she shouldn’t, but the truth was, yes, she did trust him. Even now. Even after she felt betrayed. Because he was standing in front of her, on this boat, ready to rescue her from being part of a program her father created that had imprisoned his sister, from a Society she had worked for to destroy his own kind.

And still he had risked it all to come to her aide.

“I do trust you,” she murmured. Her cheeks warmed, and she turned away in case he might be able to discern her blush even in the darkness.

The rain was still falling, but it was only when she concentrated on it that she could hear the familiar tapping of it on the deck. A few drops fell on her—the tip of her nose, her shoulder, her boot—but it wasn’t as incessant as in some of the other rooms. Maybe the storm would be letting up soon.

“I am not sure what they taught you while you were at The Society’s academy,” Drew said before he reached up with his thumb to pierce his fingertip. Small drops of blood started to form from the wound. “But our blood has healing properties. It’s why we’re able to stay youthful, why we heal so quickly unless staked in the heart. We can, if we choose to, heal humans with our blood.”

Kelia shook her head. “I don’t want to be turned. The wound will heal.”

Drew frowned. “I would never suggest turning you, Kelia Starling. I like you just as you are, and I intend to keep you that way.”

“But I thought—”

“Only when there is a blood exchange will a human transform into a Shadow. It heals the Infant, but it also provides access to where they are at all times, so their Creator can help them, can feel their emotions, and go to them if needed.”

“I’m not giving you any of my blood,” Kelia said, tensing at the idea of it. She wasn’t ready to bond with him, even though it was Drew and she did trust him. She didn’t like the thought of anyone being able to sense her feelings.

“No.” A smile touched his face. Was he amused by her defensiveness? “As I said, I have no intention of turning you. I will not take your blood in exchange, and there will be no blood bond between us. But if you take my blood alone, I will be able to heal your wound. Will you let me?”

He locked his gaze with hers, and her breath vanished. Goosebumps prickled her skin. She didn’t trust her voice, so she nodded and watched with wide eyes as he brought his pierced thumb down to her palm. Without touching her, he allowed three drops of blood to fall into her wound.

Kelia’s skin tingled at the contact. There was a hot sensation that started in the cut and then ran straight down her arm, across her chest, and punched her in the heart.

Her mouth opened as the skin surrounding her cut merged together to create a new layer. The blood from her wound vanished. She wiggled her fingers and covered her palm with them. No pain. It was as if it never happened.

“Thank you,” she murmured. The moment was short-lived. “But really, we must go, Drew.”

“Aye.”

They rushed to the door, but something stopped him. He grunted.

Kelia had the door open and was about to step through when she noticed he was not with her.

“Drew?”

He dusted his hands together. “I am fine.” He pushed up into a standing position. “The silver is slow to leave my body. The amulet Emma gave me…” He pulled it off and there was a noticeable crack in it. “I’m fine.”

They made their way out of the room and down the narrow hall where a door barred them from leaving. Kelia let out a vulgar swear word, causing Drew to grin.

“I did not realize you knew that word,” he mused.

Kelia rolled her eyes as she dropped to her knees, reached up to her hair, and removed a pin. She could break out of this easily.

She glanced up at Drew as she slid the pin in the keyhole. “Are you okay?”

He nodded. “As well as I can be.” He stared at her. “I wish I’d gotten to you sooner. I could have helped you so much more than I did with that balm back in the dungeon if I had.”

Kelia shook her head, wiggling the pin in an attempt to push open the lock. “It’s not your job to save me, Drew,” she said. “I made my choices. I knew the risks.”

“If I was at my full strength, I would be able to break this door down. I would be able to free us.”

“It’s lathered in silver, Drew. My freedom is not worth your pain.”

Something shifted in his gaze, as though some great guilt had been lifted from him. But just as quickly, the look was replaced with the tight facade of happiness.

“I am glad to see you are all right,” he said. “When I heard your scream—” He cut himself off and shook his head.

Kelia swallowed, but her mouth felt like sand. Instead, she cleared her throat. Why was she not hearing the lock click? What was she doing wrong?

The hallway was still. Where had everyone gotten off to? She was surprised Agatha hadn’t returned with The Society already, but surely she’d alerted them and they would soon be on their way. She needed to hurry.

“And Wendy?” she asked, trying to distract Drew from the fact she hadn’t yet been able to release the lock.

“Before today, something’s been blocking her magic,” Drew explained. “It’s why I couldn’t track her, why I had to ask you for assistance in the first place. But once I ripped off those protective trinkets, Wendy did what she does best. The other Shadow in the next room disintegrated in minutes. The woman in there—I don’t know her name—seemed to think I was some kind of savior and treated me as such, crying into my shoulders and clinging onto me like I would disappear. Wendy managed to pry her off me so I could get to you.”

“It’s all right,” she said. The lock clicked, and she stood, relieved. Her eyes fixated on her healed hand as she turned the knob and opened the door. The skin where the wound should have been still tingled, but not in an obvious way. Like her body was getting used to having an unfamiliar piece of itself added to it. “As long you’re both all right. As long as we’re all right.”

“Slayer.” His fingers locked on her wrist before she could ascend the staircase. “You realize you cannot go back to The Society, yes?” His voice was like glass, his breathing heavy. He was intense and insistent. Kelia couldn’t look away from him if she tried. “If they do not kill you, they will break you until you are nothing more than space. Your spirit will be bound and broken. Is your father’s death worth this? Is knowing what was the final catalyst worth your own life? Knowing that if they don’t kill you, they will kill everything that makes you who you are?”

His dark eyes were imploring, capturing her.

“Kelia, I will not let that happen. You mean too much to me; I will not risk you again.”

He took a step toward her, and then another, until he stood directly in front of her. Despite significant effort, she could not look away from him. His next step brought him so close to her that breath caught in her throat and disappeared.

He reached out and curled a strand of hair behind her ear. The feel of his skin on her flesh made her insides shift and turn. Even still, she couldn’t look away. She was trapped. There was nowhere for her to go.

She forced herself to nod. The rain fell harder, faster now.

At that moment, something pushed past them. If Drew was not in front of her, if he did not put a hand out to steady her, she would have fallen. A Shadow. One they had somehow missed, one who had not been killed. He stopped just out of their reach.

“I never forget a face,” he hissed, his eyes on Kelia. “And I will remember yours for my Queen.”

Before Kelia could even blink, the Shadow was gone.

“What did that mean?” she asked.

“It means we need to leave. Quickly,” Drew said.

“Now you’re in a hurry?”

“Aye,” Drew said. “I do not fear The Society, but I don’t endeavor to tempt the Queen’s rage.” He offered her his hand. “I would very much like you to come with me.”

Kelia opened her mouth to respond. She didn’t know what to say, but she knew she had to say something. He was right. She couldn’t stay with The Society any longer. Her mind tugged at her, however. There was something she needed, something she couldn’t leave behind.

“My father’s journal,” she managed to croak. “I need my father’s journal. Please.”

Drew sighed and stepped away from her. Without a word, he started to climb the staircase, grunting, moving slowly, as though each step required great effort.

Kelia followed behind him without hesitation. Water fell from the dark sky and surrounded the boat on the sea. He placed his hand on her shoulder, as though he was afraid to even entertain letting her go. Her entire body warmed at the thought.

“All right,” Drew said slowly, turning his head to look back at her. “We’ll get your father’s journal. But then, we leave.”

Kelia nodded.

“Wendy,” she murmured. “Where is she now?”

“My delightful sister is still, uh, handling her Shadow now that I’ve ripped off that trinket from around his neck,” Drew said.

Kelia almost let herself laugh. It was nice to hear him sound like himself.

“I told her I was coming to get you,” he added, “but she insisted on having her fun and then returning her focus on getting your fellow program peers to safety.” He gave Kelia another long look. “They are broken. I am not sure what can be done for them. They, too, cannot go back. Perhaps we can make them forget. Unfortunately, they have been in the program so long, if we make them forget, they may try to return to The Society.”

“But where can they go?” Kelia asked.

“We don’t have time to determine that now,” Drew said. “I’m certain Wendy has contacts who can help. She’s always been more resourceful than me.” They headed for the door, Kelia following close behind Drew. “We must collect your father’s journal and then head across the island to my ship. We can make it over there in a few minutes at most, if I carry you in my arms. We would be too slow otherwise.”

“I am perfectly capable—”

Drew turned around. Kelia rammed into his broad chest. Her face warmed, and she couldn’t find it in her to look up at him just yet.

“You are capable of doing anything you set your mind to, yes,” Drew said. “Of course, I know this. But, for once, could you allow me to make things easier? Could you allow me to make it so we’re from one side of Port George to the other in minutes instead of hours? Or is your pride more important than your safety, mine, Wendy’s, even bloody Christopher’s?”

Kelia’s lips tugged up into mild amusement. “All right,” she said with a nod. “Once we get my father’s journal, do what you must.”

“Do not give me such liberties, princess,” he said, leaning down so his lips nearly touched her ear. “I might enjoy what I do with them more than I deserve.”

She was fixed by his stare, immovable, like a mountain. His voice promised of wicked things and she could not suppress a shudder even though she desperately wanted to. Kelia thought she might enjoy what he did with such liberties as well, but she bit back from saying so.

“Come.” He took a step back and offered her his hand.

She should probably take it and let him lead her out, but part of her was scared. It was almost as though she felt like she would be putting more than just her hand in his, but her whole life as well.

Could she trust him with her life?

How many times had he saved her? Had he risked coming just to see her?

She couldn’t stop from shaking as she took his hand. When he curled his fingers around her own, she felt solid. Safe. Taken care of. She hadn’t felt that way since her father was alive.

As they stepped onto the deck, the rain pelted from the sky, hard and insistent, like tiny little stones being tossed out of Heaven. Kelia was soaked within mere seconds. Drew continued to keep hold of her hand as he pulled her along the deck.

Kelia could barely make out Wendy, already on shore with the four women, hurrying them off somewhere. Where that was, Kelia didn’t know, but she was certain Wendy would be all right.

The night was still, save for the rain. The clacking of rainfall masked any movement, any breathing. It was as though she and Drew were truly alone. The darkness shrouded them, and she could barely make out the difference between the ocean and the land. She clung tight to his hand, unsure where to even step but trusting he would lead her in the proper direction.

Without warning, he dropped her hand and picked her up as though she was a bride. She let out a surprised yelp but clung to his broad shoulders as he raced toward the barn where the journal was kept.

“I can smell them,” Drew said. “Your people. They are coming.”

It must have taken time at this hour for Agatha to get all the way back to the fortress, find Rycroft, alert him, and then for Rycroft to round up the Slayers. But now that time was running out.

“How far are they?” Kelia asked, trying to determine how much time they had left.

Drew shook his head. “I’m still weak from the silver,” he replied as he sped toward the barn. Most likely, he’d have been much faster if he was healthy. “I can’t smell as well or run as fast as I’d hoped.”

Kelia chanced a look at the looming fortress, a dark threat that towered over the barn. All the lights on in the windows were dim, and she barely made out silhouettes moving. These were not people getting ready for bed. These were Slayers gearing up and marching out for a battle that neither she nor Drew were prepared to fight back against.

The minute Drew stepped in the path that would take them to the barn, the wooden shack burst into flames. Kelia let out a shriek of horror as the fire danced in the shadows, a stark contrast to the black sky.

Gone. Her father’s journal was gone.

She hadn’t even had the chance to read that final passage Abigail had given her.

She didn’t care about the mere trinkets she had taken, but damn it, she’d wanted his words, his memories. The last thing she could hold onto that was truly his.

As she stared at the flames, familiar laughter pierced the fire’s crackle. It projected even over the snap of the flames as they licked the sky.

Rycroft had arrived.

28

There was something poignant about the way Rycroft looked walking away from the burning barn as rain fell diagonally around him. Kelia had never been afraid of Rycroft before; intimidated, yes, but not frightened. But there was a maniacal glint in his eyes that she could see, even through the darkness, even behind his spectacles.

From her peripheral, men she recognized from The Council stood behind them. She didn’t even know them well enough to know their names, yet they were here now? Why? They typically didn’t emerge from the safety of the fortress—that was what Slayers were for: fighting their battle. Yet, they came, braving the rain. And all of them seemed supremely satisfied with something.

Drew stepped in front of Kelia, using his right hand to push her back. Normally being brushed aside would piss her off, but this could allow her time to assess the situation and figure out what to do.

“Ha!” Rycroft bellowed when he reached them. He stopped, facing Kelia and Drew, as did the rest of the council members. “I should not be surprised that the two of you stand before me, together.”

Although the rain pelted hard from the dark sky, his voice carried over the roar of the storm. Maybe because he was so predictable, she could almost hear what he would say before he even spoke.

Ready to fight if needed, her fingers gripped the hilt of the cutlass. Her heart was heavy and her bones ached, but the rain awakened something inside of her, a desire to stop this once and for all.

She might not ever find out why her father died, but at least she could bring him to justice, even if he was not that great of a man himself. She wanted to see this through, or else everything she had done—meeting Drew and making the deal with him in the first place, suffering through the Sightless program, and nearly being a victim of the breeding program—would be in vain.

Rycroft stepped closer, eerie in his confident stride. “You have always been a Shade, haven’t you, Ms. Starling?”

Drew growled at Rycroft, but her ex-handler’s words just rolled off her like the rain. She didn’t care what he thought of her anymore. She no longer needed to pretend to be anything or do something she didn’t want to do. She was free. Well, almost. First, she needed to escape.

“I would refrain from attacking me and my fellow council members,” Rycroft said. “Each one of us has silver stakes at the ready. We might miss your heart, but the silver will still burn your flesh. Painful for a Sea Shadow, so I’ve heard.”

Kelia glanced behind Rycroft. Each man was holding something in his shaking hand, but it was too dark for her to confirm if it was the stakes Rycroft referred to.

“What I am surprised to see,” he went on, “is you standing in front of her, willing to die for a Slayer, no less.” Rycroft narrowed his eyes on Drew. “I had a feeling this was more than just sex for you. You had never been that stupid, to get involved with a Slayer and let her remember. I did enjoy punishing her for it, though.” His wicked grin pushed his plump cheeks against his eyes.

Drew stepped forward. The rain had turned his tunic transparent. She was nearly caught in staring at the tight skin strained over the muscles in his back.

“Now that I finally have you,” Rycroft said, “I’m wondering what I should do that would elicit the most pain while keeping you alive so you will still suffer through it. I could tear off each finger. I could cut out your tongue, as you pirates are wont to do. Perhaps your ears would make a nice, decorative jewel on a necklace.” He placed his hands behind his back. “I have thought about this moment for an exceptionally long time. I am looking forward to finally living my fantasies. I will push you to an inch of death before bringing you back to life. I will starve you until you will feast on the blood of cows in desperation. I will call your Queen to come over and have her way with you. I hear she’s been missing you.”

Kelia’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of the Queen. She still had no idea who this Shadow was, but each time she was brought up, Drew cringed.

Through the rainfall, she could barely make out the council members that surrounded Rycroft from a safer distance. Despite their numbers, they seemed unsure as to whether they wanted to risk being so close to a Sea Shadow, especially Drew Knight.

It made sense. They were older men. If they had ever been Slayers, those days were behind them. However, they clearly thought they could make decisions with the lives of other Slayers, even though they would not be on the battlefield, standing next to them.

Kelia clenched her free hand into a fist. These were the men who probably gave the order to have her father killed. And here they were, scared. Why even come at all, then?

The fire cackled in the distance, snapping Kelia out of her thoughts. She fixed her eyes back onto Rycroft.

“What will your Queen say, I wonder?” Rycroft went on. He paced in the rain, his confidence surrounding him like a halo. “When she finds her favorite, her intended, has been with another? She wanted to rule over her children with you, you know. She turned you for the sole purpose of having you by her side. And look how you have betrayed her. With a human, no less.”

Kelia glanced back at the men surrounding Rycroft before glancing over at the fortress. Why hadn’t Rycroft brought young, able-bodied men and women who could fight, who could take Drew with a silver arrow?

He doesn’t want Drew to die, Kelia realized. He wants Drew so he can turn him over to the Queen. Could the Queen not summon him? All Creators could summon their creations. Maybe he had removed his bond with her. Was such a thing even possible?

Kelia shook her head, trying to focus. Her body had already erupted into goosebumps. The cold was starting to take advantage of her. The adrenaline had nearly passed. Her heart beating inside of her chest was the only indicator her body knew to keep sharp, keep tense, regardless of whether her muscles felt like they were set on fire.

“What?” Rycroft stopped his pacing and dared to take two steps toward Drew. “Do you have nothing to say? I am certain if you surrender yourself of your own accord, your Queen will be lenient. Me? Not so much. She has promised me the opportunity to torture you as long as I do not kill you, and I find that I very much like the thought of you begging me for mercy.”

Kelia stared at Drew. Surely he would say something, even if it was a deep, resounding No. However, he remained positioned in front of her, his body tight and coiled, like a cobra waiting to strike. Perhaps fearing the silver but also assured that he would survive. Rycroft was his for the taking.

Kelia stepped back. Behind her was a long wooden dock that emptied out into the sea. If Drew’s ship was somewhere out there, it might be their only chance of escape. But even if they ran down the dock and jumped into the ocean, there was also the risk of sirens claiming them.

She looked back at the fortress. There was part of the fortress built into the water, which was where they housed the captured Shadows they didn’t want to kill immediately and any member of The Society whose fate had yet to be decided. It was where Kelia had met Christopher, and where Rycroft had kept her after her punishment.

“You’re surprisingly quiet,” Rycroft said. He took another step forward. “If I threatened Ms. Starling, would that get more of a reaction from you?”

She couldn’t see Drew’s expression, but she certainly heard it when he spoke next.

“If you threaten Ms. Starling, I will slit your throat and be back in place before your fellow council members knew what I did,” Drew said silkily. “Those old fools would run back to your precious fortress, their tails between their legs, and not give you a second thought.”

“I would take that as a yes.” Rycroft’s lips twitched into a grin. “You cannot go anywhere. By now, word is being sent to the Queen that we have you. She will know of your betrayal. She will know of your feelings for the Slayer. She will kill her; you know that, don’t you? She will kill her, and her blood will be on your hands.”

Tuning out Rycroft’s rant, Kelia focused on trying to discern a viable escape route that would save both her and Drew.

Soaked to the bone and her entire body numb from the cold, she was afraid she wasn’t going to be able to move, let alone flee. The cutlass was heavy in her hand; she was afraid she would not be able to use it due to how frigid she had become. After taking a deep breath, she slowly released it, letting the air escape in small silhouettes, little wraiths in the darkness.

She hoped she and Drew could head for the sea. However, if it was cold already, the ocean might be worse, and she might get sick with a fever that could potentially kill her. Also, Drew’s ship was nowhere to be seen, even though she was certain it had to be somewhere.

Rycroft and the council members were too old to chase after her. It made no sense why Rycroft didn’t bring Slayers. They must be around, somewhere. Either blocking some unseen path to keep  Drew and herself from escaping, or…

Kelia shook her head, realization finally setting in. Rycroft didn’t want the Slayers to see this. They would learn too much. They would have questions. Everything from Drew Knight’s existence to his countenance contradicted everything The Society had taught them.

And now, Kelia was in on the secret, which would make letting her live a dangerous conclusion to Rycroft’s evening.

“I know nothing when it comes to Katalina,” Drew said before he spat, as though he could not stand the name in his mouth and needed to expel any trace of it. “She can do as she pleases. I do not concern myself with dirt.”

Kelia was surprised by his blatant disrespect of the Queen. She was amused, certainly, at his blunt response. But there was hard, angry bitterness—a fury that whirled deep inside of him at the mere mention of her—that terrified Kelia. Whoever this woman was, Kelia was certain she never wanted to meet her.

Rycroft chortled. “It will be absolutely delightful to see the way she ruins you,” he said. “Your arrogance, your audacity; I cannot wait to see the mischief die in your eyes. She will beat you and break you until your spirit is nothing but ash, along with the rest of you.”

“You are nothing but a puppet in her grand plan,” Drew said, tilting up his chin. Although he was shorter than Rycroft, this motion made him seem bigger than the ex-handler somehow. “You smile now, but when she rips out your heart because she’s tired of you, will you still find this so funny?”

He crossed his arms over his chest and shifted his weight before continuing. “What do you plan to do to me, exactly? Do you plan to talk my ear off until she comes to retrieve me? You’ve never been one to chitchat. You like to sit back and let others do your dirty work, staying in the safe confines of your fortress. And now you stand before me, in this pouring rain, chummy as all hell.”

Without warning, Drew leapt into the air and, within seconds, each member of The Council laid in a pool of their own blood. Kelia jumped, not realizing what had happened until it was already done. Drew landed back in front of her. Blood dripped from his hands and fell onto the dirt. The rain washed out the color, masking it with the mud.

“You think their pieces of silver would touch me?” Drew asked. “You think they have the capabilities to touch me? Do you know who I am?”

Something snapped behind her. She whirled on the heel of her slipper. She could feel the skin twist. Boots would have been preferable, but she had not been allowed to leave with them when she moved to the barn, still somehow on fire despite the rain.

There was Charles, broader than she remembered him. Where had he come from? The rain must have masked his footsteps. Unless he had already been at the docks, that would mean he had come from the fortress.

“Dead!” Charles snarled as he lunged for Drew. His cutlass, a weapon he did not ever master, was at the ready.

Kelia narrowed her eyes at the cutlass. Like all other cutlasses made by The Society, it would have been forged in silver. If Charles struck Drew in the heart, he was dead. If he missed, Drew would still be in excruciating pain. But there was hope; Drew had just taken out most of The Society’s Council, also armed with silver weapons, in one fell swoop. Charles should be no problem to conquer.

But Rycroft was already charging at Drew, and the distraction was enough for Charles to land a blow. Kelia raised her cutlass and stepped in between Charles and Drew before Charles could do any further damage. Charles swung once more. Kelia lifted her blade, but she was not able to hold him off the way she intended. Although the blade took the brunt of the attack, the point of Charles’ own blade pierced Kelia’s shoulder, and she cried out.

Drew was a blur, and in a blink, Charles was dead at his feet, his neck twisted at an odd angle. The Shadow turned to Kelia, kneeling. From where she stood, she saw Rycroft picking himself off the ground. Still alive after charging Drew Knight. But why? Had coming to her aid stopped Drew from finishing Rycroft off?

“I’m fine,” she murmured, clutching her shoulder. Sticky crimson blood seeped out of the wound and slid between her fingers. Her head felt light. “I will survive. I’m just losing…”

“Blood.” Rycroft stepped forward. “She will only survive if she gets treated properly. Let me take her to the infirmary—”

Drew turned to lunge for Rycroft.

Rycroft pulled out his own weapon while Kelia tried her best to prevent mud from getting in her wound.

“Give her to me,” Rycroft said.

Slayers started making their way out to the courtyard, all of them holding a similar weapon. They crowded behind Rycroft, all positioned and ready to attack.

She’d been wrong. Rycroft wasn’t hiding Drew and Kelia from the Slayers.

He was hiding the Slayers from Drew and Kelia.

“I had hoped it would not come to this,” Rycroft said.

“You cannot kill me,” Drew breathed out.

“No,” Rycroft agreed. “But she”—he pointed to Kelia—“is a different story. Give her to me,” he continued, “and come willingly. It’s the only way to spare her life. You cannot win, Knight. You know that.”

There was no way out of this. Drew might be able to annihilate a gather of council members, but an armada of Slayers was another story.

She turned her head back to the ocean. No ship. If they were going to survive, they would need a miracle.

She hung her head, and the first time in a long time, began to pray.

29

Drew didn’t know what to do. Kelia was behind him, incapacitated. Rycroft and his entire band of Slayers were before him, weapons brandished, glistening with the liquid silver the sirens must have provided them considering liquid silver was unattainable, save for sea witches. They had the ability to break down the metal and liquefy it with their magic. He could escape if he wanted to, but not with Kelia in tow. He wouldn’t be able to move as quickly if he had to carry her in his arms, not after having just been weakened by a stab from Charles’ blade.

The rain split through the sky like a blade, stinging where each drop of water landed on him. The wind moaned around them, pushing the storm, commanding it like a Keeper. The sky was still dark, but Drew knew morning would arrive soon. If he didn’t get off the island before the first rays of sunlight—even if they were blocked by the clouds—he would be nothing more than ash, and Kelia would be left to the wolves.

He looked at the surrounding group of Slayers. All of them were young, the oldest being older than Kelia by only a few years. It was not their fault they wanted to slaughter him. This had been ingrained into them since they were children.

This was blood he didn’t want to shed. But he was backed into a corner, and he felt as though he had no other choice. They would rip Kelia from him and bring her back to the fortress. And he would not be able to get to her if he was dead.

“Don’t,” Kelia said from behind him.

Drew tensed. He wanted to go to her. Wanted to wrap her up in his arms and protect her from everything—the storm, the Slayers, The Society. Everything. He needed to dress her wound and find a safe place for her to recover.

“I know you can hear me,” she continued. His sharp hearing could pick up her voice, even through the rain. “Don’t do something stupid, Drew. Just give me to them and go.”

He clenched his jaw. He read the crowd, trying to see who would attack first. He hoped it was Rycroft. If he killed Rycroft, Drew had a feeling the others would drop. Cut the head off a snake, as it were.

“It’s not worth it,” she pushed him. “Either I die, or we both die. Don’t be a fool.”

“Don’t speak such things,” Drew said through gritted teeth. “I will not leave you again.”

An amused sparkle lit in Rycroft’s eyes. Drew had the urge to claw it out.

“What is it you are saying?” Rycroft asked. “Are you talking to yourself, Knight? Pray tell, what are you speaking of? Would you like to share?”

“I don’t think you would want him to,” Kelia snapped, just loud enough to be heard over the rain.

Drew made no move to reveal his surprise more than he already had. He could feel Kelia struggle standing next to him, but she could handle herself.

“Ms. Starling,” Rycroft said, smirking. “You have a strength I underestimated. I assumed a wench who could not set foot on a boat without feeling her stomach turn over could not continue to stand when she should fall. You are a stubborn thing, aren’t you? Your mother’s daughter, that’s for certain.”

Kelia started. It was one thing Drew wished she had a better handle on. Her emotions were easy to decipher. Her frustration and anger were palpable in a glance. She must have worked on them if she had managed to fool Rycroft and her Sightless handler. But she was still able to be taken by surprise. She had a clear weakness: her parents—though Drew didn’t know much about Kelia’s mother, save for her being dead.

Rycroft waltzed forward through the rain, and it took everything in Drew not to shield Kelia. The scent of her blood tickled Drew's nose. Her wound was getting worse, especially with the weather. She could catch a chill if they didn’t escape, and soon.

They were lucky Rycroft liked to sit and chat, but he might also be stalling. If it was true and they had already sent for the Queen…that meant Kelia and Drew didn’t have much time left. Even if they could evade the Council.

“It was your mother who got herself killed,” Rycroft said. “Did you know that? Your mother insisted on visiting her ailing grandmother. Your father took a sabbatical and left you in our care, at your mother’s insistence. She didn’t want you on the boat, what with your affliction.”

Drew could see, and hear, Kelia’s breathing get heavy. It came out of her mouth in puffy white smoke, like she was a dragon, ready to erupt at any moment. Her fingers curled into fists, one hand around the hilt of her cutlass, the rain pounding against her skin.

“Your father, fool that he was, would do anything for her,” Rycroft continued. “That chit got herself killed. Instead of taking the longer route, they went through the Musical Passage to save time. Your father, I’m sure you know, was devastated and wanted revenge. He was desperate, you see. So desperate that he didn’t even notice when he condemned Daniella to the program.”

“You’re lying!” Kelia shouted. “My father would never allow a child to be ravaged by Shadows. Daniella would have been—”

“Fourteen, I’d say,” Rycroft cut in. “And you’re right. Your father assumed Daniella wasn’t in the program. He’d been too busy on his own mission to check on her, too consumed by his belief that only earth could overpower water, too focused on finding one witch in particular. A woman I believe you know.”

What was Rycroft getting at?

“I don’t know what she goes by now, but the bitch has been on this island, protecting it for centuries. She also has a relationship with your lover.” He nodded at Drew.

“Emma,” Kelia whispered.

“Who do you think destroyed the bond between him and the Queen?” Rycroft pushed. “You remember—the Queen should be able to summon him, but she cannot. The bitch helped him.”

Kelia paled. She had only recently learned about the Queen’s ability to summon the Shadows she created, but he hadn’t had the chance to tell her why that didn’t apply to him. Why the Queen hadn’t summoned him already, how she was no longer able to do so.

“Both Daniella and the witch were put in the program,” Rycroft continued. “Though your father was so focused on—Emma, was it?—that he didn’t notice Daniella’s participation until she was already with child. In the interim, we used some of the Sightless to test and collect data. After all, humans are of the earth, too. Not just earth witches. Unfortunately, none yet have survived childbirth for us to come to any conclusions there, which is why your participation is so important. So why don’t you stop this foolishness and follow your duty to The Society, Kelia Starling?”

Kelia froze where she stood. Was it possible she didn’t know Daniella was a witch? Surely she was putting the pieces together in her silence. That Daniella had been with child and survived, when Rycroft had revealed no woman had. Was this what Kelia was thinking? Or was she wondering what happened to the baby? Or, perhaps, she was just shocked that Rycroft was still trying to recruit her to work for The Society.

“It works, Kelia,” Rycroft went on, as though still trying to convince her. “Once we had Daniella, we were able to confirm your father’s hypothesis. We finally had a specimen we could use against the sirens. But your father suddenly felt it was a moral issue, having birthed that creation from a child. Suddenly, he wanted to stop everything. He confessed everything to Emma and removed the trinkets around her neck that were keeping her from using her powers. She got away. At that time, we thought it wise to inhibit the witch rather than to protect everyone else. As you may have noticed, we’ve had a change in policy since then. But you—you could help us. Finish your father’s work. Avenge your mother’s death. Restore your father’s legacy.”

Drew glanced back at the crowd. He didn’t know if they were able to hear Rycroft or if they expected Drew to attack at any moment. He supposed it did not matter, so long as they remained where they were long enough for him to determine a way out of this mess.

The burning barn was still aflame, but the rain was finally beating it down. The dark smoke lifted into the sky.

“If you think about it, Drew Knight is responsible for all of this,” Rycroft continued. Each word got louder and clearer in the rain as he got bolder. “Drew severed his ties with the Queen. Do you know how impossible that should be? The Queen was able to track Emma. We bargained with her. We wanted Emma for our program, but the Queen wanted her to punish. We offered her Drew Knight because we were certain he would return and rescue Emma. He did not. But someone else did. His sister. She fell into our program easily. The only problem was Emma’s escape. You see, if Drew had never severed his bond with his Queen, Emma would never have been noticed by the Queen. We would never have found her, Wendy would never have had to rescue Emma, and you never would have been sent looking for Wendy. One must ask if Drew Knight actually cares about any of you.”

Drew stilled. He hated to admit it, but Rycroft was right, in his own sadistic, twisted way. This was Drew’s fault. All of it.

“So what do you say, Kelia Starling? Would you like one last chance to spare your life?”

Kelia scoffed.

With a shaking hand, Rycroft reached up and adjusted his spectacles, for all the good that would do his vision in this rain. “Do you think you’ll walk away from this, Kelia? That you can escape, and everyone you care about will still be safe?”

Kelia took a bold step forward. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Rycroft’s lips turned into a frown, almost as if he were shrugging without moving his shoulders. “Remember we only captured Wendy because she came for Emma.” He grinned, a terrifying sight for such bleak words. “Who might we acquire once you’re gone that would bring you back in some misguided effort to save them?”

Kelia refused to answer that. She was not staying here. She was not helping them with their sick program. And they would not bait her into coming back.

Rycroft removed his glasses to clean the lenses before putting them back on his face. “The problem is, Kelia, we really don’t want or need you. Or Wendy, for that matter. Emma is more powerful than Wendy, who we only kept as bait for Drew Knight, hoping to lure him here along with Emma. A prize for the Queen, and a prize for ourselves as well. You could walk away from this, if you can provide us that last missing piece to the puzzle.” After a long moment, the smile fell from Rycroft’s face, replaced with a stony expression to match his tone. “Where is the earth witch, Starling?”

“You’re not getting Emma,” Kelia said. “And you’re not keeping me. Or any of the other girls you’ve been trying to experiment on, you sick fuck.”

She spat at him, but Rycroft just smiled wider. “Until we have her, we are stuck gambling with the humans and other witches we put into the program. So many lives, when all we want is but one… You see, well, your father may have been a fool, but I suspect he was right about that one thing. Earth witches would be able to carry a child. Unfortunately, the humans keep dying trying to give birth, and many of the witches are just unable to carry Shadows for some reason. Take Daniella for example. Her child burned because her powers are that of a fire demon. And Wendy cannot seem to get with child at all. In our research, and with the assistance of the sirens, we discovered she was an air witch, and it is rare for an air witch to get with child. Who knows how long we would have spent trying to get her pregnant if you hadn’t shown up?”

“Sounds to me like you’re breeding women for the hell of it.”

“And yet, you refuse to help end that,” Rycroft tossed back. “If you give us Emma, we can stop this here. No one else needs to die.”

“But too many already have,” Kelia said. “And I won’t allow one more. Not Emma. Not anyone else. This is what my father wanted in the end. Stopping you—that will be his legacy.”

Rycroft tilted his head back and laughed heartily. “Stopping me?” His cackle echoed against the storm. “You do remember how that worked out for him, yes? He meddled in our plans. He found Emma after she escaped, and instead of telling us where she was, he told her about the purpose of our program instead. I assure you, trying to stop us will not work out for you.”

“That’s why you killed him,” Kelia said, her voice losing the authority it had had moments ago. It was the one reason she was still here—to find it out. And now she knew.

“One of the reasons,” Rycroft said with an easy shrug. “His betrayal was what really marked his destiny. Which, if you think about it, was the best part. We hadn’t known he’d told the witch what happened or that he’d freed her. We’d thought she had escaped on her own. Thank the good Lord, someone he confided in came to us, told us.” His eyes lit up. “I am certain you know who it was that turned him in.”

“Who?”

Rycroft grinned. His dagger was still in his hand and moved with his gestures. The liquefied silver glinted even in the darkness. Had the rain washed it away, washed all weapons clean of the concoction? He did not want to risk it just yet. Perhaps in time, however.

“Abigail,” Rycroft said.

From his peripheral, Drew watched as Kelia took a step back and then another.

“And, of course, it was our duty to react, to bring justice to the situation,” Rycroft said. “At first, we assumed we could get rid of you and force him into submission. We had already spent years and countless resources on training your father. We could lose you without hesitation. But it didn’t work. You managed to capture the Infant without dying in the process. That’s when I knew your father would tell you everything if we did not act. As such, we decided to have Abigail lead your father to the stables after eating a supper poisoned with a concoction to paralyze him. The Shadows from his program feasted on him, a suitable punishment for his crime of treason. Although he suffered tremendously, you should know, he was able to die with some honor. A self-taker, rather than a traitor.”

Kelia fell on her knees into the mud.

Drew did not quite understand the significance of what was happening.

With his abilities, he was able to see through the darkness. Her shoulder was still open. The blood flow had slowed. There was a good chance she would survive the stabbing, just as long as she didn’t catch a fever or an infection.

Which meant they needed to get off this island as soon as possible.

Once he had her on board, once he had Wendy on board, he could do what he wanted to do: take down the Queen and free the Shadows from their binds. Crush the East India Company and prevent them from ever doing something like this again.

“You seem surprised,” Rycroft said, taking another step forward.

Kelia knew he was speaking to her, but each word that fell from his mouth was hollow, another blow to her wounded heart. Hearing these things about her father... It was difficult to breathe.

“Did you not know your father was intimate with Abigail? At the time, she was nothing more than a Sightless, but she wanted to prove her worth. She did not want to be a Sightless. We gave her a task, and she completed it, exceeding our expectations.”

“Your expectations,” Drew snapped.

Rycroft caught his tone and turned, giving Drew a perplexed look.

Another step.

“Your Council is dead,” Drew reminded him. “You are the only one left.”

At that moment, there was a loud groan, and the barn collapsed. Another shot to the heart. The missing pages were there, now completely gone, going up in smoke.

Instead of being furious at the reminder, Rycroft’s lips turned up. “Yes,” he said, nodding. “You, you are correct. I am the last one, aren’t I? I guess, then, that going forward, what I say goes. And when your Queen arrives, I am the one she will reward. Me, and no one else.”

Drew growled. “Not if I kill you, too.”

“Kill me?”

Kelia blinked. Kill Rycroft.

Yes.

That needed to happen.

Her eyes shifted to the fat man. She could do it. Her blade was just off to the right. She flexed her fingers and leaned forward slowly. She didn't want to attract Rycroft’s attention. She continued to move forward until her fingers coiled around the familiar hilt. Her eyes closed in content, and a gentle smile touched her lips.

Rycroft took another bold step forward, placing him an arm’s length from Drew.

She would have to act soon. Slayers had weapons on her, but she doubted they could see much through the darkness and the rain. Even if it killed her, she would risk it. It would be worth it.

She stood, her knees shaking. She almost fell forward. Instead, she shot out her foot, catching herself. Her grip tightened on the hilt as she crept behind Rycroft. One step. Another. Her breathing hitched. Her body screamed in pain.

“Kill me?” Rycroft repeated, bending his head down so he looked Drew in the eye, a snarl on his face. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Yes,” she whispered. “I would.”

She thrust her blade into his back so hard it came out of his chest. A sickening crunch pierced the night. Kelia staggered back as drips of ruby blood fell on the ground. Her hair stuck to her face, and her body trembled. She didn’t know if she was crying when she met Drew's eyes, but she supposed it didn’t matter.

She pulled at the cutlass, but she couldn’t remove it from his body. Her fingers were swollen with the cold. Each time she moved her left shoulder, she grimaced. Pain started to fill her body, and she knew she wouldn’t survive if they couldn’t find a way off the island.

Drew sprung around Rycroft and pulled the cutlass from his chest cavity. Kelia sagged in relief. She closed her eyes, but Drew took her hand. The fire had all been put out, but half the barn had already collapsed. She was ready to sleep.

“Not yet,” Drew said, as though he could read her mind.

Just as Drew was about to hand Kelia the blade, the storm snapped with thunder. It was loud. Close. Ear-splitting.

But then Kelia realized it wasn’t thunder at all. She blinked, sleep fading from her mind. Blood seeped from a bullet wound at Drew’s gut, and Kelia could see the pain from it was enough to stun him.

He looked out at the crowd, and Kelia followed his gaze to a single female holding up a pistol.

“Jennifer!” Kelia screamed. It took every ounce of her strength to keep herself upright as she looked at her friend with wide eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Can’t you see he’s ruined you?” Jennifer screamed back. “I thought that if I delivered his note, he would take you away from all of this, but I was wrong. He’s ruined you.” She lifted the pistol, cocking it. “Kelia, you killed the Council. There’s no protection from the Shadows now.”

“You don’t need protection from them,” Kelia shouted. “Or protection from the Council anymore. They’re dead. Rycroft is dead.” She shook her head and waved her good arm out to their surroundings. “We are free to leave. We are all free to do what we want. You, me, the Slayers, the Sightless. All of us.”

Jennifer took one hand off the gun only long enough to wipe the rain and tears from her face. “This isn’t freedom, Kelia,” she said. “If Drew lives, everyone will want you dead with him.”

Kelia took one step and then another. The Slayers behind Jennifer raised their weapons. Some had cutlasses, others had bows and arrows. A few had pistols, probably loaded with silver bullets.

“If Drew Knight dies, this will all be over,” Jennifer said. “Now, step away. I don’t want you to go down with him.”

“Did you not hear a word of what Rycroft said?” Kelia shouted. Her voice was raspy, her words slightly slurred. Her body continued to shake, this time with disbelief. “The Queen is coming. If she finds out you killed Drew, you’re dead.”

“She will think Rycroft’s men killed him,” Jennifer said. “Finally, we can all be safe from this oppressive Society and the Shadows alike. I won’t give up that freedom, Kelia. Not even for you.”

“You’re wrong.” Drew's voice was tight. “She will know it was you, and she will find you. She will find all of you and kill your loved ones in front of you, so you will know true suffering before you die. If you let us go—”

“No.” Jennifer’s hands shook. “Kelia, please.” Her voice cracked. “Come back with us. I’ll take care of you. I promise. We’ll marry you off to a good lad, one who will take care of you. One you can learn to love.”

Kelia didn’t even hesitate. “I can learn many things,” Kelia said. “Unfortunately, learning to love someone because I have to is not one of those things.” She turned her back on Jennifer, on the Slayers, on the fortress so she could look up at Drew. “Let’s go.”

Before Drew could even open his mouth, Jennifer pointed her gun at Kelia. “Do not make me do this, Kelia,” she said. “I will pull the trigger if I must.”

30

Kelia was numb. It was the only word she could find that adequately described the lack of feeling in her bones. Abigail had betrayed her father. Daniella had experienced the worst of violations. Emma had been a captive of The Society. All things Kelia had not known. All things she didn’t want to be true.

She turned back toward Jennifer and stomped across the muddy field toward her. With each step, the scent of jasmine that surrounded Jennifer due to her love of scented candles strengthened.

“I cannot let you return to him,” Jennifer said, her voice conveying her desperation. Kelia heard it crack even through the pouring rain. Her heart slammed against her chest. Jennifer took one step forward, pleading. “Please, Key. Let me take care of you, like all those times you’ve cared for me.”

From her peripheral, Kelia could see Drew had followed her but had come to a halt. She was caught between the two most important people in her life: her best friend for as long as she could remember, and the most wanted Shadow alive and the man who she inexplicably had feelings for.

Drew had opened her eyes and showed her a truth she didn’t want to be confronted with and one she did not wish to accept. He’d also withheld essential information from her.

He was flawed—but he cared about her, and he had gone through great lengths to prove that.

She let out a grunt. There was no energy left in her body. She was so tired. Mentally. Emotionally. Physically. She didn’t think she had it in her to fight any longer.

“I can’t stay here anymore,” she said, hoping her friend would come to reason. “Surely you can see that?”

The gun did not waver. It remained trained on Kelia.

“Slayer.” Drew’s voice brought her back to the present. “You should go with her. Now. We’ve tempted fate far too long. You are losing blood. If you do not get it looked at, you could contract an infection.”

She had done what she set out to do. She had solved her father’s murder, and it was more tragic than she could have imagined. And now she was ready to put this behind her and move forward. With Drew.

And he was telling her to stay?

Kelia knew Jennifer didn’t like her answer—she could feel it—but it stung more when Drew reduced their feelings for one another to ‘tempting fate.’

That was bullshit. Kelia would choose her own fate.

Kelia shook her head. “You can’t possibly really want that. You don’t really wish for me to go with her?”

“I wish for you to do what’s best for you,” he murmured. He lowered his voice as he reached out and clasped her hand. “It will break my heart, but it’s for the best.”

Kelia wanted to tell him that he didn’t have a heart. He was a beast and beasts did not have hearts and souls and things that allowed them to feel. But she couldn’t because such things were not true. She knew that now.

She would go with him. She would convince him of it. “You’re not leaving this island without me.”

“I can’t let you go with him,” Jennifer tried one last time. She didn’t look at Drew; her focus was only on Kelia. “I helped you then because I thought having him leave would mean you were finally done with him. But since that is not the case…” She cocked the pistol. “I truly am sorry it had to come to this.”

“Jennifer,” Kelia said. “No!”

Jennifer fired the gun.

But instead of a billet shooting out of the barrel, there was nothing but a click.

The rain doused the gun powder, preventing the bullet from firing.

Jennifer looked down at the pistol, shook it, and tried once more.

Nothing.

An arrow flew from the swarm. It landed near Drew, barely missing him.

They needed to leave. Now.

Another arrow. And then another.

Drew turned to Kelia and grabbed her arm. He yanked her with him. Kelia cradled her injured arm, allowing Drew to pull her in the direction of the docks. She couldn’t make out anything with the sheets of rain falling from the sky and the thick blanket of charcoal clouds.

Drew let out a yell. An arrow had struck his thigh. He dropped to his knees. Kelia stopped, nearly skidding on the mud, and pulled on Drew’s arm.

“You must get up,” she insisted. “Now, Drew.”

He nodded. The rain matted his hair so it clung to his face. He stood up once again, only to be shot in back, near his left shoulder.

Another cry of pain pierced the rain.

Kelia hated that sound.

“Go,” Drew commanded, his voice harsh. “Jump into the water. My crew will find you. You will be safe. They will take care of you. They will take you far away from me and any danger I bring your way. Just go.”

Tears sprang into her eyes, and she dropped to her knees in front of him to match his position on the ground.

“I won’t leave you,” she told him. “They cannot kill you. The Queen will punish them if they do.”

“I would rather die than see her again,” he said through a growl. “And they don’t seem to fear her. I will not let you die with me, Kelia.”

“Then don’t die!” Kelia cried through the rain. “Fight. For both of us. Get up and fight back!”

Arrows fell around them like silver-streaked rain but neither of them flinched.

“What then, Slayer? Kill your friends? Kill those men and women for the crime of ignorance?”

“You can defend yourself,” Kelia snapped. “You can move faster than they can blink.”

“Or perhaps I can show them that not all Shadows are monsters.”

“By letting them kill you? That is not your purpose, Drew Knight!” she said, tears stinging her eyes. “You are not here to prove a fucking point! You’re here because this world needs you. I need you.”

She started sobbing at the realization. She’d never needed anyone before. She’d prided herself in that. But it was true. She needed him—just as much as he needed her. She hated that she was making a fool of herself in front of him, but she couldn’t help herself.

“Well, now,” he said, his voice soothing. He lifted his hand to cup her cheek. “If that is not the most beautiful sight I have ever laid my eyes upon in my entire time on earth.”

What was he going on about now? She looked like a wreck; she did not need a mirror to see for herself.

His thumb caressed her cheek, and she couldn’t help but lean into the touch, not caring what he thought, what any of the shouting Slayers thought.

“A Slayer, crying for me?” Drew said, his murmur barely audible over the rain. “I’ve seen it all.”

She lunged and knocked Drew down over the swell of the embankment and out of the line of fire. From her peripheral, she could see the opposition advancing toward them, but it would take a while before they finally got to a place where they would be able to fire their weapons with any hope of hitting their targets.

She didn’t know how much time she had left, but she did know who that time would be spent with.

With a grunt, she grabbed Drew’s face with her hands. Her shoulder screamed, but she pushed through the pain and pulled him to her. Arrows sighed as they flew into the sky, but, in that moment, she didn’t care.

Drew’s hand moved from her face so he could grip the back of her head, and he welcomed her embrace with enthusiasm and earnestness.

When their lips touched, everything and everyone was forgotten. The world sailed away like an abandoned ship with a sail caught in the storm until it was just the two of them and the falling rain.

His lips were gentle. Kelia appreciated that they didn’t overwhelm her but were both soft and patient. She sighed through the kiss. The feeling of his strong hand cupping the back of her head made her feel both empowered and vulnerable, like she would be okay regardless of what happened to them.

Her skin broke out into goosebumps, and this time it was not because of the cold. In fact, she didn’t feel anything except for liquefied warmth that dripped into her stomach and pressed her heart so tightly against her chest she thought it might burst.

Arrows continued to fall. The wooden dock splintered with each shot, the water swallowing those that missed land. They were getting too close.

She broke away from the kiss. “Are we going to die?” she whispered.

“Not today,” a voice said from behind them. “Drew, take your paramour into the sea. Your ship awaits.”

Kelia looked up. Wendy stood in front of them. It was only then that she realized the real reason they had not been pelted by arrows; they had been encompassed in a golden ball. It was a shield, a protective coating that deflected the arrows and snapped them like twigs.

“Let’s go,” Drew said, standing up and taking Kelia’s hand.

“Daniella,” Kelia said, looking over to Wendy. “We cannot leave her here.”

“Emma is retrieving her,” Wendy said, not taking her eyes off the Slayers.

Currently, the group was left at a standstill, unsure of what to do. Some continued to fire arrows, others drew them but waited, and still others did nothing save watch.

“You realize they are all dead if the Queen comes and you are not there,” Wendy murmured to Drew.

“Maybe she won’t come,” he tried.

Wendy raised her eyebrows at him. “But maybe she will.”

Drew continued to stare out at the Slayers, his eyes hard, cold. “There’s nothing we can do about that now.”

“Go,” Wendy commanded. “I just got the Sightless to safety and I plan to escape myself. I would appreciate it if you would listen and get the hell in the water.”

Drew sprung onto his feet. Kelia wasn’t sure if he was still in pain from his injuries or if he was masking it to hurry. Either way, he tugged her up. He took off on a run, pulling her with him.

“Where are we going?” Kelia shouted through the rain.

Wendy muttered something behind her, something that sounded like some sort of incantation or spell. A collective grunt was emitted by the swarm of Slayers, and Kelia could not help but turn to look over her shoulder at what occurred.

The golden barrier pushed out, knocking down the front line of Slayers, all prepared and at the ready. As they fell back, they knocked the Slayers behind them and then those knocked the row behind them until nearly all of them were incapacitated.

Arrows flew overhead, but the barrier protected Wendy, Kelia, and Drew. Wendy raised her hands as if she was holding it—and she was. Now not even the rain could get through.

Wendy’s powers were strong, a sight of beauty. Kelia balked that it had been restrained. She didn’t know what she would do if she had such powers only to have them smothered. It would be as though she did not have the use of an arm.

Wendy kept her right hand up, as though to hold onto the protective shield, before extending her left hand and flicking her wrist. All the weapons levitated into the pitch-black sky. Some of the Slayers let out a scream. Then, Wendy's powers liquefied the silver that had been plastered on the cutlasses and arrows, and the poison evaporated before their eyes while their pistols remained out of reach.

Kelia watched as they lifted, lifted, lifted. And then, Wendy dropped her hand in a delicate manner, much like a ballerina.

And the weapons started to fall.

The Slayers screamed louder and scrambled out of the way, though Kelia could see Wendy had directed the weapons to fall to the ocean and away from them. Wendy backed up toward the wooden dock, still holding the shield in place as the Slayers scurried off toward the fortress.

“Stop gawking and move!” Drew shouted, pulling Kelia to emphasize his point.

Kelia shook her head, snapping herself out of her thoughts.

“Kelia!” a voice shouted. It was familiar and cruel. Every fiber in her being sprang up in defensiveness.

Abigail.

Where had she come from?

It was as though she had stayed in the fortress until after the council members had perished and then snuck down when it was convenient for her.

Kelia stopped running. She turned to see Abigail had been able to slip past the barriers simply because Wendy had not noticed her and had not thought to check who was on this side of the barrier before trapping everyone in.

“What do you want?” Kelia shouted. She pulled her arm from Drew and stood so she could face Abigail.

“Kelia,” Drew said. “We have to leave now. Wendy’s powers have been inhibited for too long. She can only keep them back for a short while.”

“I’m so sorry!” Abigail called. “For everything! That’s why I gave you those missing pages. You have to believe me!”

Kelia certainly did not have to believe her.

The rain soaked Abigail, her eyes seeming to implore Kelia’s forgiveness, but Kelia found none to give her. If anything, she wanted to rip her jaw open and watch her drown with rain water.

“You ruined everything!” Kelia shouted.

The barrier flickered. It would not hold for much longer.

“Kelia!” Drew called. “Please!”

Drew rarely said please unless it was important.

Kelia let out a growl, ripping her gaze from Abigail, and nodded at Drew. Relief filled those brown orbs, and he grabbed onto her hand and pulled once more. They ran along the damp dock, the rain beating against it and drowning out the sounds of the ocean.

“Where do we go from here?” Kelia asked as they reached the end of the dock.

Drew showed no signs of slowing down. “We jump!”

And they did. It wasn’t until she was already in the air that she remembered to fear the sirens. But it was too late now.

They leapt off the dock and crashed into the ocean. Kelia bit back a scream as the salt water stung her wound. Angry bubbles ripped from her mouth. She felt like a stone, sinking down into the depths of the ocean.

Drew had let go of her hand—or maybe she had let go of his. Maybe the ocean had forced them apart. No matter what separated them, Kelia didn’t think she had the energy to kick up to the surface.

Her adrenaline declined. Pain shuddered through her body. She could not hold on. Her head got light. A vision of her father and mother surrounded her, coating her in warmth. She couldn’t make out what they were saying, but she saw them as vividly as she had felt her kiss with Drew. She wanted to go to them, to be with them once more.

But she couldn’t get to them.

Stay, they seemed to be saying.

And then, someone grabbed onto her dress and lifted her up with a fierce speed, like a bullet fired from a gun, until her head broke the surface of the water and she gasped, sucking in air.

“Kelia!”

Drew.

His voice spurned her to open her eyes. He was there. Right next to her.

He smiled a brilliant smile that took him from beautiful to downright stunning. He seemed relieved. He released her dress to clasp her hand and began to pull her toward something.

“We’re almost there,” he said. “My ship is just behind that cliff.”

In all honesty, it felt like forever. Kelia knew she wouldn’t have made it if he hadn’t been holding onto her hand. But then they reached the ship and she was helped up the side by his crew.

They’d been lucky to escape the sirens this time. Perhaps the flying arrows had kept them at bay.

“Come, come,” Emma said in a rush, a familiar woman at her side. “I have warmed water for you. You need to get out of those clothes and this rain.”

“Daniella?” Kelia asked, her voice tired as she came to recognize Emma’s guest.

“I’m here,” Daniella said. “Kelia, I’m here.”

Once they were belowdeck and out of the rain, Emma opened the galley and they poured onto the benches, exhausted.

“Now that we’re safe, for the moment,” Drew said, thrusting his hands behind his back and pacing across the floor. His boots squeaked with water. “I want to know how Kelia ended up in the program.”

“I already told you—” Emma began.

“I want to hear what Kelia has to say,” Drew snapped, shooting a glare at Emma.

Kelia swallowed. Her shoulder hurt, and she winced as she moved it. Immediately, Emma stood and began to tend to it with a balm that could have been the same balm she used for her back. As long as it worked, Kelia didn’t particularly care.

“Daniella and I got into a physical confrontation,” she explained. “I thought I told you this.”

“Briefly,” he said. His tone had gotten low and, though tired, Kelia could still pick up the warning there. “But I believe Daniella is cleverer than I assumed. I believe she did it on purpose, knowing you would be assigned to the program.” He lunged to grab Daniella by the throat and hoisted her in the air. “Is it true?”

Daniella choked and struggled against his hold.

“Drew,” Emma snapped. She stopped her ministrations on Kelia’s shoulder, but didn’t go over to him. “I told you. She did what needed to be done to find Wendy. The star by Wendy’s name? In the ledger? It represents Starling’s program—which we already knew. That she was in the program. Without Daniella, we never would have found Wendy.”

No wonder Daniella was so willing to help her with the ledgers containing Wendy’s name.

“It was not worth risking Kelia,” Drew said. His eyes were fixed on Daniella. “Give me one good reason I should not kill you.”

“Drew,” Emma warned. “Do not make me—”

“Because I request it,” Kelia said.

Her voice was a low murmur, but judging from the tension that appeared in Drew’s body, Kelia knew he heard her. He did not immediately set Daniella down, but Kelia had faith that he would.

Another moment passed before Drew lowered Daniella to the floor and let go. Daniella sucked down air, her hands on her neck, trying to soothe herself.

“I am watching you,” he warned, glaring at Daniella. “One misstep, and I will kill you without sparing you a thought. I do not care who you are to Emma or what you did for Wendy. Do you understand?”

Daniella coughed. It seemed she was still unable to catch her breath, but she nodded vigorously.

Kelia stood on shaking legs. She didn’t know if it was because she was cold or if she was exhausted. Either way, she wanted to strip off these clothes as soon as she could.

When she reached Daniella, she dropped to her knees. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “You left the journal for me?”

Daniella nodded, still rubbing her throat. “Do you…do you still have it?” she managed to get out.

Kelia shook her head and was hit with a bout of dizziness. “It burned,” she said. “The barn.” She took a heavy breath. “I want you to know…there were pages missing. Pages I think you read, but ones I did not receive until I was a Sightless. Abigail gave them to me. She had ripped out the pages after you read the journal, before you left it for me.”

“So you truly didn’t know…” Daniella said, looking away.

Kelia shook her head and was confronted with more dizziness. “No, Daniella. Truly.”

“Then I’m sorry, too,” she said, holding her hand out. “Friends?”

Kelia took Daniella’s hand in hers. “Something like that, I guess.”

When Daniella excused herself from the room, Kelia released a shaky breath she didn’t realize she was holding. She was safe. Her friends were safe. She was finally away from The Society and she would never go back.

Thanks, she thought—to her parents, to the Keepers, to Drew or Daniella or Emma…she didn’t know.

She took a deep breath and finally allowed herself to slip into a blissful unconsciousness, only to be haunted by nightmares of the Queen.

Had they escaped The Society, only to fall into the crosshairs of someone even more dangerous?

31

Drew Knight leaned back in his chair, his ankles crossed on the edge of his desk, legs stretched out, head facing the ceiling. The parchments placed on his desk were still scattered. He had been meaning to organize them more sufficiently but never got the opportunity.

What, exactly, had just happened? Everything was a blur, was difficult to decipher, difficult to understand.

He turned his focus to what he had learned: The Queen was looking for him. More than that, she wanted him back. Because he had severed their bond so long ago, she couldn’t call him to her. He’d assumed she never tried calling him back to her because she had not seen a reason to do so, but now it was clear she had one and had since put a bounty on his head.

His lips curled as he interlaced his fingers and placed him behind his head. Now she would know about Kelia, and the Queen would not like the idea he had put another woman above her.

He could see her clearly, that cat-like smile, the narrowed eyes, the smooth brow. She had told him to go off and play, that it didn’t matter because, in the end, he would come crawling back to her just like everybody else did. At least he’d had the foresight to have Emma remove the bond anyway.

Because even then, Drew knew he was not like everybody else…and that the Queen would eventually realize that.

The candle he lit, placed carefully on the corner of the desk, flickered in the darkness. His hearing picked up the soft murmur of Kelia’s voice. Just the sound of Kelia’s soft voice was enough to calm his heart. It sounded like she was speaking with Wendy about which cot she wanted.

Drew had ordered the women receive lodgings separate from the Shadows, and Emma offered them a place in her room. He shook his head, marveling at the situation.

She was here. With him.

She was really here.

He kicked his feet off the desk, bringing them to rest on the floor. Then he leaned forward and sifted through the parchment. It rustled as he searched for the location to the Isle de Sangre—the location of the Queen.

The door to his quarters creaked open, and in slinked Emma. His gaze locked onto hers. He paused his search but didn’t say anything.

“Everyone is settling in,” Emma said.

“How is she?” Drew knew he did not have to specify just who he was referring to. He focused on the dancing candle and not on Emma or her knowing eyes.

“Conscious.” Emma glided in like a wave rolling into the shore. “She is much stronger than I realized.”

“She is stronger than anyone gave her credit for,” Drew agreed. He glanced down and flipped through the parchments once again.

“Looking for something in particular, Captain?”

Drew looked up at the turn of phrase. Emma never addressed him as captain.

“A location, perhaps?” she asked.

Drew eased back in his seat. Despite the dark room, he could see Emma clearly, standing before him in reserved grace. It was hard not to look at her. Besides her obvious beauty, there was something she was hiding, something he could not quite put his finger on.

“You risk a lot by even thinking of it,” she continued. Her painted red lips were like a warning. “Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

“You asked me the same thing when you severed my bond with the Queen,” Drew said slowly.

“Yes, but going after the Queen? That’s a risk, Drew.”

“She wants Kelia.” Drew stood to his full height. He placed his hand firmly on the surface of the desk, the parchments crinkling under his weight. “There is no way she became a Sightless for having a relationship with me without The Queen hearing about it, especially considering her connection to The Society. To Rycroft himself. Her people were on the way already, even as we escaped. And you know, the Queen will not relent until she has her.”

“You know that, and you still went after her,” Emma pointed out, not bothering to hide her annoyance.

“I did not think—”

“You fail to do so often when it comes to Kelia.”

A heavy stillness occupied the room. Though there was only a desk between them, it felt as though they were worlds apart. The candle cast shadows across Emma, making her look more ominous than she really was.

“What is it you want?” he asked, each word enunciated. He bared his teeth, like he was some sort of animal, not quite sure why he felt the need to get defensive with Emma but unable to ease the tension that accumulated inside of him when anyone brought up his feelings for Kelia.

“Where are we going?” Emma asked. “We have two more witches and a human on board, and we need more supplies.”

“Nassau is just south,” Drew pointed out. “We will stop there.”

“And then?”

“And then what?”

“Exactly my question.”

Drew nearly growled. He was not in the mood to deal with Emma and her smart mouth.

“And then we find the map,” he said.

Emma contorted her face into a smooth, cool look of indifference. She was typically skilled at hiding her facade, but here, even in the darkness, he could see her strained effort.

“And then?” Emma pressed again. Her voice was crisp. Curt.

He did not need to explain. He could tell she knew. So why did she even ask? To make him say it aloud? Did she think that would make him see the absurdity of it?

Did she think that would change his mind?

“It has to be this way, Emma,” he said. He stepped around the desk, so he could face her directly. So there was nothing between them. “You know the minute I severed my bond, I had a timepiece counting down the seconds until she decided she needed to make me pay.”

“And you think your time is up?” Emma asked.

“She knows about Kelia,” Drew said. “That is enough for me.”

“So, what, you plan to raid ships until you find the map to Sangre, and then—”

“And then I will kill the Queen,” Drew finished. “I will rip her head off and I will dance in her blood and I will laugh. I will laugh because finally, finally, I will be free.”

“Drew,” she said ominously. “I’m sorry to tell you, but that is not how this will end.”

Did You Like Call of Darkness?

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About the Author

Isadora Brown loves all things dark, dangerous, and deadly. Things that go bump in the night and send shivers down backs are things she adores. She loves (and writes) sexy, forbidden romance, usually with some bite and a hint of magic.

She is currently represented by Bethany Weaver of The Weaver Literary Agency.

New York Times bestselling author Rebecca Hamilton writes urban fantasy and paranormal romance for Harlequin, Baste Lübbe, and Evershade. A book addict, registered bone marrow donor, and indian food enthusiast, she often takes to fictional worlds to see what perilous situations her characters will find themselves in next.

Represented by Rossano Trentin of TZLA, Rebecca has been published internationally, in three languages: English, German, and Hungarian.

Visit her website here.

Table of Contents

- Cover
- Title Page
- Contents
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Did You Like Call of Darkness?
- Newsletter Information
- About the Author