Shadow Prophet (Midnight Chronicles Book 1) Read online

  The smell of Lizzie was the second.

  I froze in the doorway, eyes shut, breathing through my mouth to minimize the impact of the scent on me. I couldn’t believe how familiar that smell was so many years later. Those ridiculous tears tickled the backs of my eyes again, and my heart throbbed painfully in my chest. Emotions rushed over me like cold sweats, and I had to grab the doorframe to support myself.

  How could I possibly murder this woman? Just her smell was practically enough to knock me flat. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how seeing her in person would make me react.

  I swallowed, eyes still closed. I needed to hurry—to finish my inspection—but my brain and heart were fighting at the moment, and I didn’t know which would win.

  A sense of longing overcame me, and I allowed myself to wallow in it. I longed for something I was coming to realize I could never have. Something I’d been promised for years, something I’d worked hard to earn.

  I knew she and I were “supposed” to be together. That was the core of the Shadow Prophet’s revelations, and when my eyes had landed on her that first time, I’d known he’d spoken the truth. But I didn’t know if that meant we would actually end up together.

  He’d told me I wouldn’t ever deserve her—that I’d feel worthless next to her, that seeing her would only inflict torture on me.

  He’d also told me she would overlook my glaring faults, that she would love me just as much as I loved her.

  He’d lied to me. But I still wasn’t sure which parts of his prophecy were truth and which were fabrications designed to manipulate and control me.

  Unfortunately, for many years I’d thought they were all truths, and I’d accepted them completely.

  So foolish.

  So immature, gullible, and foolish.

  Hatred for the man who controlled me nearly overwhelmed me, and I shook with rage, trying to resist the urge to break something.

  “Abel. Abel. You’re better than this.” I breathed in through my nose and out through my mouth, no longer caring to protect myself from her scent. More important was controlling myself. I’d take out that anger later, but for now, I had work to do.

  7

  Finally, I pushed the emotions back and opened my eyes.

  Lizzie’s bedroom was darker than the rest of the house due to heavy drapes meant to shut out sunlight. I pulled aside the curtains, making note of the window—it was about five feet from the floor—and let them fall.

  That was all I could take.

  It was time to chat with her neighbors.

  Not looking at the pictures that hung along the hallway, I strode to the front door and pulled it shut behind me. I didn’t have a spell that could lock things up. She’d discover the door unlocked, but hopefully, she’d think she had forgotten to lock it. I doubted she’d suspect the truth.

  Shoving my hands in my pockets, doing my best not to look like a creeper, I started walking down her street, heading to the right. As I’d noted earlier, the neighborhood was quiet and calm. Yards were well tended, houses pretty and nicely kept. A few people were out doing yardwork. They waved when I walked past, and I made sure to nod back. No sense calling attention to myself by not being friendly.

  I walked around her block, noting how close she was to a set of train tracks and a church made of orange brick. Everything else was small, older houses, and nothing looked suspicious in any way.

  Time to knock on some doors and find out about her neighbors.

  I chose to start with a house across the street and just south of Lizzie’s. A man fully decked out in camo opened the door.

  “Can I help you?” he asked, a suitcase in the hall behind him.

  He was obviously about to leave. I’d need to be direct. “I’m wanting to learn about the Fire Impeder who lives across the street. I have a job for her, and I want to know if she can handle it.”

  “Wouldn’t it be best to ask her?”

  “Yes, of course. I plan to do just that when I meet with her in an hour. I still want to get a feel for her ahead of time, though. What can you tell me?”

  The man shrugged. “Not much. I’m not home very often. She’s friendly and happy, though. Seems honest. When she moved in, she brought a plate of cookies and introduced herself.” He turned and glanced back down the hall, and I could tell he was itching to end the conversation. “The elderly neighbors north of her act like she’s their granddaughter. You should check with them.”

  I nodded and thanked him, deciding to head there right away. As I walked along the sidewalk, though, a woman in her fifties or sixties with a wide-brimmed hat smiled and said hi, so I decided to talk to her first.

  That conversation was much more productive than the previous.

  “Oh, Lizzie is just wonderful,” the woman said. “You’ll just love working with her. She’s just so sweet and good.”

  She liked the word “just.”

  “I’m sure she’ll be great. How long have you known her?”

  “Ever since she moved in. A year and a half? Maybe more? I went to meet her and found her on my porch with some cookies, here to introduce herself to me. Ralph and I have had her help with a couple of things—Ralph had to burn some weeds in the backyard, and Lizzie made sure they didn’t go out of control.”

  Before I could ask anything else, the woman began chattering, gushing about Lizzie and how wonderful it was to have a Fire Impeder so close. She mentioned another incident when the fireplace had sparked onto the carpet, catching their living room on fire. Before they’d even had a chance to call 911, Lizzie sensed the flames and dashed across the street to help. The carpet had to be replaced, but no permanent damage had been done, and I could tell the woman would never forget Lizzie’s assistance.

  I tried to get out of the conversation a couple of times—talkative people make me uncomfortable—but decided to let the woman continue. She had a lot of valuable information, after all, and she ended up telling me pretty much everything I needed to know. The important stuff, anyway, and I’d fill in the blanks later.

  When we ended the conversation, I felt like I knew Lizzie a little—the current version of her, anyway. Kind, caring, and selfless, she loved her neighbors as much as they loved her.

  And apparently, she hadn’t ever had problems with any of them. I hoped it stayed that way. If Alexander was correct, and I had no reason to disbelieve him, unsavory creatures would be drawn to her. I’d need to keep an eye on things in case a neighbor “decided” to move abruptly. Meaning, they’d get killed and an unsavory creature would move in.

  The woman and I said goodbye—me promising to let her know if I needed anything—and I headed to my car.

  It was time for my appointment with Lizzie.

  8

  I pulled into the parking lot at the Thai House, resting my hands on the steering wheel and taking a deep breath. I could do this. I could.

  This wasn’t the first time I’d met a target in advance, but it was my first of the Shadow Prophet victims—all of the others, I’d met right when I planned to kill them. When it came to my regular targets—evil demons—I almost always arranged to meet them ahead of time. They’d needed to be taken out, and I wanted to see just how dangerous they were before attacking.

  Lizzie was obviously different.

  Hoping that five minutes would be early enough for me to get a table and observe Lizzie as she entered, I hopped out of my car, locked up, and strode into the restaurant, my limbs jumpy and my heart pounding.

  A waitress greeted me at the door, and I mentioned I was there to meet someone. She knew immediately who I was talking about, and my disappointment flared. Lizzie was already there.

  Getting time to study her before she noticed me wasn’t going to happen. My innards scrambled, my heart pounded even more, and my brain froze as I followed the waitress. This wasn’t like me. She really had me unsettled.

  It took some effort, but I pushed aside my nerves and put on an air of confidence. I’d gotten good at acting i
n the last several years. No way would Lizzie sense my discomfort. At least, I hoped she wouldn’t.

  The waitress entered the main area of the restaurant, and I paused in the doorway, my eyes landing on Lizzie, attracted to her like a moth to light. I couldn’t possibly have avoided her. Her print, her essence—what made her her—was so strong, I would have been able to find her blindfolded.

  The physical reaction at seeing her was immediate. My breath caught in my throat, my heart froze in my chest, and my smile became painful to hold.

  She was even prettier than I remembered. How was that possible? Her hair was dark brown now and the curls were loose and soft, very different from when I’d last seen her. I tried not to stare, to soak her in, to make her uncomfortable, recognizing the familiar sense of longing and loneliness that came over me.

  She will never be yours! Drop that wish now. You have work to do. I widened my smile, finally noticing that she seemed to be studying me as much as I her. Her eyes traveled the lines of my body, and I felt a growing sense of satisfaction. The last time she’d seen me, I’d been starving to death—scrawny and weak, falling apart. My line of work in recent years had necessarily filled me out. I definitely couldn’t be described as scrawny or weak now.

  Her brown eyes met my gaze, and I could tell she was having a hard time equating what she was seeing with what she remembered.

  I pulled out a chair and sat down across from her. “Hey,” I said.

  Lizzie’s cheeks flushed, a light pink that set off her eyes and skin beautifully. I searched her face, trying to sense those traits I’d so disliked before. The flightiness. Immaturity. The determined flirt.

  Instead of the jumpy excitement I’d expected, I was surprised to see a sort of calm sadness. She’d been forced to grow up. Heartbreak, perhaps. Tough times, definitely. I found myself wondering what had happened that had made her lose that mischievous and flirty sparkle.

  How much had she changed?

  “Hey,” she said in return, her voice deeper than I remembered it to be.

  The person before me was a woman now, not the teenager she’d been when I’d last seen her. I needed to remind myself of that fact.

  Our waitress came and took our orders, then left, and I waited for Lizzie to break the ensuing silence. “Hey” isn’t exactly an intelligent start to a conversation. And while I ached to hear her talk, to find out where she’d been and who she’d become, I couldn’t break my years of personal training. I almost always let others speak first. Doing so generally told me more about the individual than anything else.

  What would I learn about Lizzie?

  She licked her lips nervously, and my eyes dropped to them immediately. I’d spent so much time daydreaming about kissing those lips, of holding her body close to mine. My mind went blank for several moments, and I had to mentally kick myself to re-enter the conversation. Or the conversation that would hopefully be starting soon.

  “You look a lot better now,” she said.

  A compliment, but not a direct one. She was still opinionated, though gentler in her approach.

  “So do you.” And she really did. Her body had filled out nicely—no longer was she boyishly thin and lithe. I swallowed, refocusing my thoughts. “Why did you change your hair?”

  Lizzie grabbed one of her curls, twisting it around her finger. “My natural color brought me too much attention from people breaking the law. They figured out who I was super easily.”

  I nodded, taking a sip of water. Made sense. Fire Impeders stopped sparks. They kept guns from shooting, bombs from going off, and wild fires from destroying. Red hair would alert criminals pretty quickly that their plans were about to be thwarted, so I could understand why she’d want to hide her true identity from most people. It kept her from becoming an automatic target.

  “So,” she started, “you have a job for me?”

  “Yes.” I still wasn’t sure how to bring it up. At least not without knowing what information she already had, and I didn’t want to weird her out by asking her to do something she’d already agreed to do. But maybe that was inevitable.

  I again waited for her to break the silence.

  She cleared her throat. “What have you been up to the last few years?”

  Yeah . . . not going to answer that one. “Odds and ends.”

  If she was disappointed by my response, she didn’t let on.

  “How have you been since . . .?”

  I scowled, not sure which part of her question to focus on first—where I’d been when she found me or what I’d started doing after. “Since you and Nicole rescued me from that wasteland? Saved me from eating myself alive?”

  Unbidden memories filled my mind as I thought over her question. I had no desire to go there right then. Despite the fact that she seemed older and more mature, I still wasn’t sure how much of my past or present she could actually handle. She was such a pure and good person—always had been, and no doubt still was. I would hate for my experiences to ruin that.

  I fisted my hand against my thigh. I couldn’t hide things from her forever. Especially if I wanted to end up with her.

  If that was even possible.

  There was that problem with the Shadow Prophet, after all.

  “Let’s discuss this job I have for you.”

  She nodded. “Okay. And I have a proposition for you as well, if you’re willing.”

  What could she possibly want from me? She hadn’t even known I’d be contacting her when I had.

  “All right,” I said, “but first, we discuss what I need you for. Lizzie . . .” I loved how it felt to say her name. I especially loved the expression she gave me when I did. Did it make her tingle with anticipation, like it did me? I glanced deep into her eyes, hoping for something I knew wouldn’t exist.

  It wasn’t there. Of course it wasn’t. She hadn’t spent the last few years fantasizing about me.

  “I’m just going to cut right to it. I need assistance with a task I’ve been given, and which I can’t do without your help.” Here goes. “I want you to join me in hunting hounds.”

  Lizzie’s face went slack. “Hounds?” she asked. “Dogs?”

  Didn’t she know what I was talking about? Alexander had said he’d already discussed it with her.

  Perhaps more directness was in order.

  “No, not dogs. Hounds. Demons—immortal creatures who take the shape of dogs and devour anything they come across.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “You’re hunting them? That’s a huge coincidence because I was planning on asking you to help me with them.”

  Yes, that made sense.

  She hesitated, probably waiting for me to explain the situation. I didn’t.

  “In what way am I going to be helping?” she asked.

  It had to be obvious to her. How was it not? “I’m assuming you understand enough about them to know they’re dangerous and need to be destroyed. Your special ability as Fire Impeder is instrumental in their destruction.” As she well knew. She must have been paying attention when Alexander talked to her. It was about her, for crying out loud.

  She didn’t get the chance to respond because the waitress brought our food. Neither of us said anything for several moments as we dug in. Lizzie had chosen a good place. I hadn’t had chicken satay this fantastic in a long time.

  The shock of being in her presence dimmed as I practically inhaled my food, eager to down it as quickly as possible. I almost never knew when my next meal would come, even when my schedule was well-known. Unpredictable things happened regularly—I’d learned to expect them.

  “So, why are you hunting them?” Lizzie asked.

  I set down my fork. “I don’t ask questions. I do the jobs I’m hired to do.”

  And that was all she was going to get out of me. It was obviously a lie, given the circumstances, but by now, I’d fully adopted my decision not to tell her about Alexander.

  She seemed preoccupied for a moment, and I enjoyed the lapse in conversation. The mai
n course was just as good as the appetizers had been, and I relished the feel of the different herbs and spices as they ran across my tongue. Going without food throughout my life had made me appreciate the good stuff when I encountered it.

  “So . . . Umm . . .” Lizzie began, “you haven’t Restarted yet, have you?”

  Naturally it would be obvious to her. She was an Arete who had access to her powers, after all. That was the thing about most magical people—they could sense when others had or hadn’t Restarted. And they could also usually tell how strong each other’s magic was.

  I clenched my fork as I considered my future as an Arete. It wasn’t good. “No, I haven’t.”

  “How old are you?”

  I could tell Lizzie was uncomfortable asking the question. Her curiosity had to be killing her. Luckily for her, I didn’t see a reason why she couldn’t know, but that didn’t mean I wanted to discuss the topic.

  “Thirty-three.”

  I glanced out the window. Maybe she’d take the hint. I knew she wouldn’t, though. As soon as people found out I was an older Arete who hadn’t Restarted, they couldn’t help themselves. Their curiosity drove them to learn more.

  Rather than wait for her to ask the question, I said, “I don’t expect to survive my Restart, if it ever happens.”

  Lizzie tilted her head, causing her curls to brush her shoulder. “Why not?”

  “You know I was born with gray hair.” I paused, gathering my thoughts. “There’s a legend of another Arete like me. Adam. He died during his Restart.”

  “He’s really the only one?”

  I could tell she was skeptical. Why wouldn’t she be? It was true, though. I’d spent a great deal of time researching. It was my life, after all.

  “Yes. Others who had gray hair when they turned eighteen weren’t Aretes. Children were hard to come by back then.”

  She nodded. She was familiar with the curse that made it so people weren’t able to have kids as easily as they could now. I wasn’t familiar with all the details, but I knew it had been undone nearly a decade ago. Before then, it had been very difficult for most people to have more than one or two children, and as a result, Fourths—magical people like Lizzie and me—were truly rare.