Shadow's Lyric Read online

  SHADOW’S LYRIC

  A Crossing Daggers Novel

  By C.A. Worley

  PUBLISHED BY:

  C.A. Worley

  Shadow’s Lyric

  A Crossing Daggers Novel

  Copyright © 2020 by C.A. Worley

  All Rights Reserved. This book may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the author, except for brief quotations embodied in reviews. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. All characters and storylines are the property of the author and your support and respect is appreciated.

  This book contains mature content and is intended for adult readers.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  Cover Art by Olivia Pro Design

  Map created by C.A. Worley via Inkarnate.com

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  This story is a shout out to the place I grew up. I was often frightened of the woods behind our house and had dreams (nightmares?) of what lurked within. Sometime around the age of twelve, I envisioned supernatural creatures just beyond the tree line, staring back at me.

  My family expected nothing less than an unattainably high-level of badassery from every member, so I would imagine I was capable of battling anything coming out of those woods. The reality was far from the imaginary, but you’ll be able to see where I got the initial spark for this story.

  I’d also like to pay homage to my amazing cover artist, Olivia, of Olivia Pro Design, who I found as I stumbled my way through the Fiverr website. Her covers are gorgeous and I’d be remiss not to thank her again and again.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Epilogue

  Dear Reader

  Excerpt from SHADOW’S RAVEN

  “I think there might be something very wrong with you.”

  Draven, Lord of Shadows

  “I think you might be right.”

  Lyric, Kicker of Asses

  Prologue

  ____________________

  Lyric

  The corners of my mouth sank grimly as I stared down at the board. The brilliance reflecting off the shiny marble surface did nothing to help my mood.

  It was the start of another uneventful summer day. The adults of the house were currently hiding out in the study having a hushed conversation while I was playing chess in the game room.

  Alone.

  I shifted my chair and angled my face out of the light. If I’d been human—or, wholly human, I guessed—I might have gotten a sunburn from the warm rays.

  Pausing, I considered moving back into the beams to try for some blistered skin. At least it would be something interesting. Something different. Something else to think about.

  Lips pressed tight, I held in the insufferable sigh threatening to escape my mouth. Demons had impeccable hearing and Father would surely overhear. Ticking him off was low on the list of today’s priorities.

  Most days I hardly cared. Today was different. At least, I wished today was different.

  Tempting as it was to behave in a manner befitting my age, I wasn’t far enough away from my father to release any hint of displeasure. There were consequences for annoying the head of the Petrov Family—inhuman consequences.

  Movement caught my eye and I turned to watch a butterfly flit about outside the big bay window. The yellow and purple flying insect landed gracefully on the stone sill just beyond the glass.

  Watching intently, I imagined what it would have been like to have wings. As far as I could tell, there was no point. Even the butterfly didn’t use its gift to escape this isolated piece of land. At least the stupid bug was able to enjoy the fresh air.

  A beautiful day was out there. A great big stupid beautiful day, full of stupid sunshine and newly bloomed flowers.

  Those were stupid, too.

  I hadn’t been hardly an inch past the foyer in months. The closer the solstice got, the stricter my father became. It got worse with each passing year.

  This particular first day of summer happened to be my seventh birthday. Seven was a significant number among supernatural beings. Witches, fairies, and even some of the shifter clans believed it held legitimate power.

  Well, that was what I’d been taught. I’d never actually spoken to a witch before. Or a fairy. Or a shifter. Or anyone outside my father’s clan of Fortis demons.

  Though I knew little on the subject, I was hopeful. I’d been praying to any god who might be listening that this birthday would be different than the others. Nothing too special. It was enough for it to be acknowledged, for once, preferably outdoors.

  Maybe, if I couldn’t play in the yard, I’d be allowed a slice of cake or a scoop of ice cream? A piece of candy? Surely it wasn’t too much to ask.

  Stop it, Lyric, my inner voice chided. I hated that voice, hated how it was usually right.

  I inwardly sighed again and returned my focus to the chessboard. Playing a game of strategy against oneself was beyond difficult. I’d been told a thousand times I lacked the discipline necessary for such endeavors.

  I was about to give up when I heard Father’s baritone voice drift through the house.

  “It’s time for Alyrica to go out.”

  My heart jumped into my throat as footsteps approached. This was it. I held a breath, eyes glued to the board, pretending I hadn’t overheard anything.

  I shouldn’t have been surprised it was the head of security, not my father, who appeared in the doorway. Hope was a dangerous thing in this household. I knew better than to feed the willful beast.

  A throat cleared, a common signal for me to pay attention. I turned towards Uncle Gregor.

  The tall, muscle-clad male stood patiently, holding out his hand. His hair was dark as night, a trademark of the Fortis class of demons. He wore it slicked back, exposing a severe brow. His coal-black eyes, the same as my father’s, were too large for his face.

  He wasn’t what I would call ugly. He was just intense and super scary in his quiet manner. He was my idol.

  I didn’t look like my uncle or my father. I’d inherited my mother’s golden hair, as well as her navy eyes. I’d never seen the woman, but I’d been told I was her spitting image.

  My life might have been easier if I took after the males in my family. It would have definitely been easier if I’d had a different father.

  I worried my fingers, picturing what it would be like if Gregor had been my sire. He wasn’t much for talking, but he had never been outright cruel to me.

&nbsp
; While I fantasized, Gregor waited, knowing I did not fear him and I would eventually comply with his unspoken command. I always did. Eventually.

  He showed far more restraint when dealing with me than his brother ever had. The proof of it lied in Gregor’s silent patience, standing there with his arm covering the space between us.

  His dark uniform looked more militant than security. His favorite gun was holstered on his right hip and a number of knives adorned his belt.

  It reminded me of the sort of thing a frontiersman would wear. Well, aside from the grenades and other small explosives hidden in plain sight.

  What fascinated me the most, though, were the two katanas strapped to his back. Gregor moved fast as lightning with them grasped firmly in each hand. I’d witnessed him doing grotesque things to the sparring mannequins with those swords.

  I was insanely jealous, wanting to master such a skill. Any skill would do. Any skill that would force my father to look at me with something other than disdain.

  Speaking of, I swiftly moved to Gregor and allowed his large hand to swallow mine. He held my eyes for a second, giving away nothing. Wordlessly, he turned and led me out of the game room.

  We went through the state-of-the-art kitchen and out the back door. Had Father gotten me an outdoor gift? I hoped it was a swing set.

  The glare of light made my eyes water. I blinked hard, trying to adjust as much as I was trying to get the liquid to go away. I didn’t want to look like I was crying. Crying was a weakness.

  My head swiveled around, taking in the area. Nothing was different. No set tables on the patio for a birthday meal. No wrapped gifts. No balloons. Not even a card.

  Nothing.

  Maybe real-life birthdays weren’t like what I’d seen on the television.

  The skin across my face tightened, but I held steady. Tears showed vulnerability. Father detested vulnerability. I’d learned that lesson two years ago and hadn’t cried since.

  According to Gregor, mindset was a choice. Choose not to be a victim, Lyric, he’d said. It was advice currently playing on repeat in my head.

  I could choose to think of this stroll as my gift. A moment of false freedom was as good as any present I’d ever received. So I kept my head high and my stride in sync with my uncle’s.

  We ambled out of what I considered the yard and into the open space behind the large stone manor. We walked up the hill where the biggest tree on the property stood proud, overlooking the dips and valleys that fell below. It was the pinnacle of the estate.

  We passed the mighty oak and entered the back field, the one I had been forbidden from exploring. My stomach dropped. The Primus Crossing was at the end of this field.

  I’d never laid eyes on the portal, fearing the penalty I’d face if caught. Most of those living on the compound stayed far away from it, as well. Luckily, technological advancements allowed them to monitor movement from afar.

  There were a number of crossings around the globe, gateways to places few humans could survive. As such, they needed to be monitored.

  Each had its own Gatekeeper, most of whom were originally demons because we were the most powerful species residing in Earth Realm. Marriages, alliances, and breeding outside of our own species had altered who was chosen as successors of the other crossings. Father believed it to be a travesty.

  I found it ironic how those with magic, especially demons, were often depicted as the bad guys in human movies and books, yet they were the only things preventing enslavement by those that would and could see the humans as nothing more than beasts of burden.

  Or food, which was totally disgusting.

  We were protectors of Earth Realm. Maybe Father wouldn’t be so cranky if he got a Thank-You card for his efforts. I giggled at the picture my mind created, visualizing Gabrian Petrov opening a child’s handwritten card of appreciation.

  “Shh,” Gregor hushed me.

  His chastisement brought my focus back to where we were headed.

  Gregor and I continued across the back acreage to where the tree line dipped down into a lengthy hollow. The locals called this area Deadman’s Hollow. Or, really, Deadman’s Holler, with their Kentucky twang.

  I’d once attempted replicating the accent. It earned me one hard slap to the face and two bloodied lips.

  Inside the hollow, the large oaks seemed to defy gravity and bent across the shallow ravine, creating a shaded tunnel. Cool air blew out from the shadowed passageway, a stark contrast to the stale summer heat sitting atop the field where we stood.

  I’d never been allowed this far from the house before and I wondered why Father was allowing it. My excitement quickly turned to trepidation. He never did anything without reason, and he was especially fond of teaching lessons only learned the hard way.

  Gregor escorted me closer, stopping about ten yards away. Goosebumps broke out over my skin.

  “Stand here, Lyric. Do not move until granted permission.”

  I frowned at Gregor’s odd instruction and gazed up into his forever stoic face. Something flickered in his eyes, but I was too young to understand the message. He squeezed my hand before releasing it and stepped away.

  I started to ask him why we were here when the breeze picked up, turning my interest back to the entrance of the crossing. Something was inside the tunnel. I couldn’t see what, but I felt the presence of a soul.

  Reaching out with what little magic a youngling of my age possessed, I sought out the threat, sizing it up as I’d been taught to do. I was surprised when I brushed up against something peculiar, but not quite sinister. I’d expected to feel a threat but was instead met with … interest.

  And power. So much power simmered in and around the body where it was housed—as much as Father possessed. Unlike Father’s magic, which usually felt as abrasive as his moods, this being’s power was magnetic. It called to me. I wanted a closer look, or, in this case, a closer feel.

  Unable to see through the crossing, I closed my eyes and focused. Any Other holding onto that much energy was dangerous. As noninvasively as I could, I scanned the soul once more. I sensed no evil.

  If I could feel him—or her—then Gregor could, as well. If my uncle was considering going for his katanas, it would confirm a threat. Opening my eyes to check his reaction, I gasped. I was standing a few feet inside the crossing.

  How did I move so fast?!

  The cold pressure of the space between worlds pushed against me and I had to fight to pull in oxygen. Ringing ricocheted through my ears. My eyes burned as water started to pool. I wiped the sensitive skin with my knuckles, trying to get one of my senses to cooperate.

  Before I could call for my uncle, my body was yanked backwards. I landed flat on my spine and the breath I’d fought so hard for was knocked from my lungs.

  My father’s shadowy face loomed above, one hand reaching for me. My attention caught on his thousand-dollar cufflink, so out of place in this country field. My fingers clutched his wrist. He slapped them away, keeping his hand’s slow trajectory towards my chest. It was almost a dare for me to try and stop him.

  His demon magic reached into my ribcage and snatched my fledgling soul. He twisted and pulled until half of it was in front of my face, the other half still embedded in my trunk. The faint golden glow of transparent light illuminated Father’s face, showcasing those eyes of obsidian I wanted to hate so much.

  “You want this back, Alyrica?”

  I nodded firmly despite feeling panicked beyond measure. I still could not catch my breath.

  “Then you should have done as Gregor instructed. You not only moved without permission, you stepped into the crossing. Without. My. Permission.”

  I hadn’t meant to. At no point had I consciously moved my feet. I was too focused on controlling my power. I hadn’t even noticed Father following us out here.

  “You will learn or you will die, foolish child.”

  I stared at him, terrified at the threat. Gabrian didn’t make them lightly.

  Tears
were close to spilling down my face. I blinked hard, willing them back as his glare bore into mine. A full minute passed before he returned my soul safely to its home. I sagged in relief.

  It was then, during those few seconds it took for my spirit to settle, I realized what he’d gifted. I may have been only seven, but I was no dummy.

  Father had just given up a golden ticket. Learn was such a vague command, so vague it could have been taken as an all-encompassing input.

  Mindset was a choice and my subconscious had just made a big one.

  In the time it took for him to return my soul, the directive took root inside my very being. Every cell and neuron kicked into overdrive, obeying, just as he’d taught me it would.

  Learn or die.

  Learn or die.

  Learn.

  Or die.

  I chose to learn.

  Chapter 1

  ____________________

  Lyric

  Fourteen years later …

  My head jerked back, trying to avoid the big meaty fist coming for my jaw. Somehow, I managed to only get clipped in the mouth. Next time, I’d be able to evade it completely, assuming he used the same move.

  Damn. That one hurt. The bastard had been holding back earlier. Luckily, I was more prepared than ever, having learned from my many mistakes.

  My eyes closed. A deep calming breath slowed my pulse. I needed to concentrate if I was going to come out of this with limited injuries. Something told me, this time, Uncle Gregor wasn’t going to let me tap out.

  Fuckhead.

  The quiet scuff of a boot pivoting on the mat had my eyes popping open. I dropped low, missing his repeated swing. He knew I didn’t make the same mistake twice, yet he always tested to be sure. Always.

  These tests were becoming a daily occurrence of late and his thoroughness was wearing on my last damned nerve.