Shadow Born (The Dark Shade Book 1) Read online

  “Distracted, as always,” he said, chuckling under his breath. The magic that rose in the air suddenly filled my nose. A ward locked around us tightly—Connelly’s way of making sure that our conversation stayed private. We were in one of the bigger restaurants in the New Orleans Shade, sitting outside. Summer’s heat had slipped into September, and I was hoping it would last. I liked warmth better than the cold.

  “Just thinking,” I lied. “What’s been keeping you so busy?”

  Connelly grinned, and for a moment, his true age reflected in the glint of his eyes. He knew what I was doing, though it wasn’t saying much, because I always did the same. I didn’t care to talk about myself. I’d rather do the listening.

  “Guild business, like always. It never ends,” he said, a hint of pride lacing his words. “Just when you think you’ve got everything under control, some schmuck gets an idea and a couple of spells, and everything goes to shit by dawn.”

  “Why not take a break? Go on vacation or something?” He was one of the seven leaders of the Sacri Guild. He could take off any day he wanted.

  “What would become of the Shades without me?” he said, only half-jokingly. “Tell me about you, my boy. Anything new?”

  I shook my head. “Same old.”

  “Nothing came back?”

  “Nothing. I don’t expect it to.”

  “But you’re searching for it anyway.”

  I took a sip of my drink and looked away at the street again.

  “It’s been five years, Alexander. Don’t you think it’s time to do something?”

  “I am doing something.” I was getting up, getting dressed, showing up to meetings like this. It was enough.

  “Something real,” Connelly said, fisting his hands like he was that passionate about it. “Let it go. Move on. Stop searching for the past. Start thinking about the future.”

  “I can’t.” Without the past, there is no future. I was half-living proof of that.

  “Then try harder.”

  I sighed and rubbed my face for a moment. We’d been here before. We got here eventually every single time we met. “I’ve tried, remember?” I’d met with the most powerful people in the world. For two years, I’d tracked down each one of them, yet nobody had been able to help me.

  “No, you haven’t. You need to go see him,” Connelly insisted.

  “No.”

  “He knows. If there is anyone out there who knows, it will be him. Yutain is the oldest vampire in the history of the world.”

  I bit my tongue to keep my expression neutral. “And maybe I’ll search for him someday.” But not now.

  Connelly shook his head as if he were disappointed, though he’d expected nothing better from me. And I didn’t expect him to understand, either.

  “Have you met anyone new? Maybe a lady friend?” he continued, but the magic released from the air a second before I saw the waiter coming our way with a tray in his hand. Connelly noticed so much more than I ever could—everything that went on around him. That was why he was what he was.

  I gave them a moment again, eager to look at the street, at the people going about their business. Living, while I was stuck in time, both physically and mentally.

  To the outside world, I didn’t look any different than everyone else. Dead—but no different, just a vampire having dinner with a friend. I wondered if the people who smiled around me felt the same on the inside. Looks can really be deceiving. It made me curious, though. What made them get out of bed in the morning? What propelled them to keep moving, day in and day out?

  What was I missing?

  Memories. My life—days, months, years of it that were stripped away from my mind as if they’d never existed.

  “Tell me the story,” I asked Connelly when his magic wrapped us in a ward again. The waiter was gone. Nobody would be able to hear us, not even a single word—even vampires. Connelly was one of the most powerful people I’d ever met. To the world, he was simply a Prime wizard, more powerful than most of his fellow Primes. But I knew a little more truth about him. The blood of angels ran in his veins. He was as immortal as me, as no other true wizard could be. He was twice as powerful as them, too. I felt safe wrapped in his magic like nowhere else.

  “I’ve told you the story a hundred times,” Connelly said, but I knew he’d tell me again, as many times as I wanted to hear it. My father had been his best friend—his brother, as far as he was concerned. That same love had extended to me. To Connelly, I was family. If I asked him to tell me the story a million more times, he would.

  “Indulge me,” I said, and he did.

  “You were a good kid, a good man, all your life. You still are,” he started. “The last time I met you while you were alive, you were celebrating your twenty-sixth birthday. You told me your life was only just beginning. You were happy, the kind of happy only love brings us. And I asked you who she was. I remember your face when I did,” he said, so lost in his own memories, I envied him.

  The story he told me was about me. I knew every detail, and I’d even seen the pictures of the night he described, but I still couldn’t remember it.

  “You looked like a teenager all over again, like that first time we met. You glowed. It’s a secret, you said. But I might bring her over to meet you one day soon. Those were your words, if my memory serves me right.”

  I had no doubt about that. Connelly remembered everything.

  “But you never did bring her to meet me. You never told me her name. A week later, you were attacked and turned.”

  His voice fell, and I heard his anger, his pain. I still felt nothing.

  “At first, you had a hard time accepting it, but a few months later, you were stable. Had such great control over your hunger—a testament to your character. The same character as your father.” Again, he fisted his hands, and this time I felt the pain, too. The night I was turned into a vampire, we’d both lost our family. “I suspect it had something to do with your special friend, but you never did tell me. I didn’t see much of you in the following decade. And then I didn’t see you at all for seven years.”

  My eyes closed involuntarily, and I tried to press my mind to remember. Where had I been? Why had I disappeared? What did I do for seven years?

  It was why I asked Connelly to tell me the story every time we met. Despite everything, I still hoped that hearing what happened from someone I trusted would spark some kind of memory in me. But it was useless. I heard the words, and I could imagine the events, the people—but it was never me. I couldn’t connect to it, couldn’t imagine that that man he spoke about was me.

  “When you came back, you were much the same as you are now. You refused to tell me anything. You kept away from me, from everyone, for months. I tried to get you to talk to me, my boy. But you refused. And when you disappeared again, I thought I wouldn’t see you for years, but you came back the next day. You came back covered in wounds and blood, hours away from death, and without your memories.”

  I nodded, as if I understood. As if any of it made sense to me.

  “The rest you remember.”

  Yes, I remembered.

  “Thank you, Steve.”

  “Listen to me, my boy. Let it go or take action. It’s time,” he said in a whisper.

  “I will,” I lied.

  Or maybe I wasn’t lying. Because we met every couple of months, and every time I heard the story, it did awaken a spark in me. A bit of curiosity. Maybe this time it would stick. Maybe this time, I’d hold onto it and want to change the way I existed.

  “What about the cargo we’re transporting?” I asked next. The story was over. It was time for a change of mood. For a distraction.

  “We don’t know what it is yet, hence why we’ve decided to take it to Marzena. She’ll give us all the information we need, and we might decide to keep it here, at the museum, if it’s worthy.”

  “Marzena will know.” If there was anyone out there who knew magical artifacts and their power, it would be her.

  “Have you thought about what we talked about last time?” Connelly said between bites. The steak he ate was still bloody—just how he liked it. I could smell the metallic scent, but cow blood didn’t awaken my hunger.

  Nothing ever did, really.

  “I have, and I stand by what I said then. I am not going to be a Guild leader.”

  Connelly didn’t like it. “It’s the perfect job for you. It will give you enough distractions that you won’t even have time to think of yourself for a while.”

  “And that does sound tempting. But you keep forgetting that I’m a vampire.” And vampires were not fit to be leaders.

  The Sacri Guild was the highest supernatural authority on Earth. It controlled everything supernatural and even managed Shades. Without them, the world would only know chaos. I didn’t always agree with their ways, but I admired the work they did. The work my father had done all his life. He had been a Guild leader, too, before his death. And from the times I do remember, I had wanted to be the same. It had been my dream to take my father’s place when he decided to retire.

  When had that dream lost meaning for me?

  “It matters little what you are,” Connelly insisted, but his heart wasn’t into it. Maybe he didn’t care about my nature, but the other six leaders certainly would.

  “I’m darkling, Steve.” No darkling had ever been a Guild leader.

  All supernaturals were classified into two groups—the Sacri supernaturals and the darkling. The difference between one or the other were Talents—special kinds of magic most of us possessed—or the very nature of a supernatural. Vampires and ghouls were darkling by default, while werewolves were considered Sacri.

  But the Guild truly only measured power.

  They tested every supernatural in the world at the age of ten. Levels were first—the weakest would be classified as Level One, while the most powerful ones would be Level Four, what we call Primes.

  Then, they tested individual Talents. Every supernatural had them, and powers like necromancy, marauding, possession of the living or dead, mind reading, will bending, or mind control would land you on the darkling side of the classification. Darkling supernaturals then underwent the Nulling—a series of spells designed to strip away the illegal Talents for the length of the supernatural’s life. They could still do magic—everything other supernaturals of their kind could do—but they would never be able to use their Talent for as long as they lived.

  Vampires and ghouls couldn’t be Nulled—our magic’s nature kept us alive. That’s why the Guild hunted down and killed any one of our kind who caused even a little bit of trouble out there—no questions asked. They still allowed certain darkling to keep their Talents. They had vampires, ghouls, even necromancers working for them because the world needed those powers, too. But those the Guild didn’t need or couldn’t control, they Nulled in the name of safety.

  Most vampires were bloodthirsty, uncontrollable, and at the first sign of trouble, they got taken care of. But there were others who kept a low profile, too, mostly vampires who lived past their hundredth deathday. The Guild didn’t mess with them—as long as they didn’t mess with the Guild.

  My case, though, was different. I was the son of a Guild leader, and Steven Connelly considered me family. Even if I caused trouble, I would never be persecuted by the Guild. I would never be killed or even imprisoned. Connelly wouldn’t even raise his voice at me. As unfair as everything else in life.

  “It’s about time we changed our rules about darkling,” Connelly said after a minute. “We need people like you, Alexander. People with strong character, unafraid in the face of justice, no matter how cruel it may seem to others. We have tough decisions to make every day. You would fit in perfectly.”

  I didn’t even know where that trust of his for me came from.

  “I’ll politely decline once again, Steve. I am no leader.” I couldn’t even lead my own life.

  “I’ll still ask you to think about it. In two months’ time—who knows? Your opinion might change,” he said, and it made me smile. Always the optimist.

  “Even if I agreed, the other leaders would—”

  “Let me worry about the other leaders. You give me your word—that is all I need,” he said.

  The faint memory of a feeling came over me for a short moment, but I felt it. Despite my state, I loved Connelly. I knew what he was, knew all about the tough decisions he made every day, but he was my friend. The only person in the world I would trust with my life.

  I was going to thank him again, for the faith he had in me, just as the ground underneath us shook. Only faintly, but I felt it. As inattentive as I was, my nature sensed true danger, and I couldn’t ignore something that big if I tried.

  Connelly felt it, too. He stopped moving, the fork with a juicy piece of steak halfway to his mouth. He looked out at the street, but I doubted he saw the people while he was lost in his trance.

  The ground shook again, this time a bit more violently. I jumped to my feet.

  “It was a pleasure, as always,” I said in a rush, all my instincts come alive like they rarely do. I shook Connelly’s cold hand.

  “Do not engage, Alexander. Nobody knows you’re on the job yet,” he whispered, and the ward around us disappeared into thin air with a faint hiss.

  With a nod, I walked between tables and to the main street, looking to the sides until I saw a small furry creature lazily making his way toward me from the other end. He’d probably been sleeping next to a tree somewhere. It was his favorite place to nap.

  I turned to the other side, and I rushed back to the museum.

  Walking as fast as my nature allowed wasn’t something I made a habit of, but now that I was focused, my ears picked up the sounds of a fight happening far away from me. If Connelly wanted to keep me hidden, I’d have no choice but to obey. It was because of him I was on this job, anyway. My inability to tell him no always got me in these situations.

  The museum was a two-story building, with a cream-colored facade and most of its lights turned off at this hour. There were Guild guards by the doors, and they all watched me as I passed them by, but nobody stopped me.

  My surroundings became a blur when I sped, and before the minute was over, I was inside my room, hanging my jacket behind the door.

  “Hurry up,” I called to Zorro. He loved to pretend he couldn’t notice whenever I needed something done fast, so he took his time to walk through the door before I closed it.

  I sat on the recliner, unbuttoning my shirt, and the fox jumped on my lap. His black and grey fur shone orange under the light of the lamp to our side, and he purred when I scratched his chin. Zorro wasn’t big—maybe the size of a cat, his black tail with a single stripe of white, the same white fur that wrapped around his neck like a shawl. He thought himself very handsome, too. I tended to agree, probably because he was my familiar.

  “Behave. Connelly doesn’t want us to engage,” I said, and he let out a scream-like howl, which was the equivalent of an eye roll.

  I closed mine and rested my head on the recliner.

  When I opened them again, I was already outside.

  Five

  Zorro didn’t rush. He never rushed, even when I rode inside his mind. He took his time walking down the street from the museum, sniffing the asphalt, the magic in the air.

  And then he heard the sound of the howl coming from a distance and froze. Ears perked up, he gave himself a second to make sure he knew which direction it had come from.

  And finally, he took off running.

  He was fast when he wanted to be. He’d never had any trouble keeping up with me, even after I turned. I first met Zorro when I was seven, and he had been with me every day of my life and death since—which was unusual, to say the least. Sorcerers were the only kind of supernaturals who had true familiars. Nobody knew where they came from, only that they found us when we were kids, always before the age of ten.

  I used to be a sorcerer, too, before I was turned. And when my kind turned to vampires or ghouls, their familiars died. They couldn’t exist without their masters, and as far as Mother Nature was concerned, I was dead, no matter that I was still here. According to Connelly, I was the only vampire ever recorded with the Guild whose familiar survived the turn, and he couldn’t tell me why. It made no sense that Zorro would still be here, but I was convinced it had something to do with my Talent.

  As a sorcerer, I had been a Prime Telepath, never Nulled, because of my father. He was the same, too—the most powerful Telepath in the last century. I could read people’s minds whenever I wanted to, I could feel their intentions, even speak without words with those I was close enough. But my father had used his powers only for his work, and he’d ingrained that same principle in me since I was a boy. He convinced me early on that I never truly wanted to know what people thought, especially about me, and that I should always keep my Talent to myself, unless it was to help someone. He assured me that I’d have time, when, as a teenager I was yearning to experiment, as most of my sorcerer friends and family did. He said that once I took my place as a Guild leader, I’d be able to use my Talent every day.

  I’d started to count the years then—until I was turned. Talents shift when we turn to vampires, and nobody can predict with certainty what the thirst for blood will do to a Telepath. In my case, I’d lost the ability to read into people’s minds, to communicate with them.

  My Talent had connected to my familiar instead. At will, I could slip my consciousness into Zorro’s mind and see through his eyes and travel in his body for any amount of time—while my own body remained frozen in a trance. That ought to be the reason why Zorro was still here, why he hadn’t died when I did. My altered Talent had somehow kept him alive.

  And I was thankful for it every day.

  Now, as I focused on Zorro’s ears and ignored the blur of our surroundings as he ran, I felt more alive than I ever did in my own body. Zorro didn’t have magic to ask the Shade for favors like I did. Some magic was still left in me, not enough to get spells to work properly, but enough to persuade the Shades for a shortcut. But with his speed, we reached the fight going on in Tailor Street in no time.