Shadow's Lyric Read online

  A breeze kissed my cheek. Did he really think I’d mess up again? G-man was losing his touch. I considered throwing a throat-punch, but he was too wily to fall for the moves I’d need to get close enough to make contact with his neck.

  I eyed the exposed skin over his carotid, calculating the odds of reaching striking distance, knowing it would never be worth the counterattack. I ducked again and searched for a new target on his body to strike.

  He lunged forward and I spun just out of reach. The harder he came at me, the more I thought about the dynamics of our little family and how dysfunctional we were. Case in point: the knuckles passing within a hair of my nose.

  My relationship with my uncle—and his fists—was what one might call complicated. Sadly, the bond with the male giving me my current smackdown was lightyears better than the one I had with my sire.

  Unlike my father, Uncle Gregor had never attempted to murder my ass, which put him a hair below Daddy-o on my list of He Who Deserves a Bitchslap.

  Technically, murder might be a slight stretch, but what does one call the moment when one’s soul is, literally, ripped from one’s body?

  Two quick jabs to just below my ribs knocked the air out of me. I countered with a knee to his gut and he backed off. Total child’s play.

  Gregor’s body repositioned itself faster than a human eye could track. He was the clan’s master at controlling his movement and speed. Slow and controlled were necessary in front of anyone not Other.

  Gabrian, as I often thought of him now, as opposed to Father, always told me the majority of humans of this world were incapable of handling anything remotely supernatural. They instinctually feared anything perceived as different.

  It was the reason Gabrian had me homeschooled and never let me off the property. He doubted my ability to keep my talents in check in front of the lowly Homo sapiens.

  As Dominus, leader of the largest demon clan in Earth Realm, he was the epitome of control. He had to be in order to walk freely amongst humans. He could also protect himself with a mere flick of the wrist. Since my mother had been human, I possessed only a fraction of his strength.

  I hated him for repetitively showing me how weak I was in comparison. Sometimes, though, especially when I caught him watching me with something akin to wariness in his eyes, I wondered which of us needed the proof.

  I was not weak.

  At the mere hint of that dirty little word, I threw my body backwards into a hard back-handspring—harder than I should have. Gregor had to pause or else catch one of my boots on his chin.

  I could already tell the victory would be short-lived.

  As I righted, I recognized the error I made. My mind’s ruminations were fucking up my chances at inflicting a beatdown. Distracted, I’d overcorrected. He was going to make me pay for it, too.

  Another strike from the Greg-a-nator, this one a perfect roundhouse kick, caught me in the temple. Losing focus and pushing too far back had given him enough space to swing a leg before I could block it.

  My body was freefalling to the training mat. At least I still had my soul attached. Losing consciousness for a few minutes was far preferable.

  A being could not live without the soul. Sure, your heart might beat, but you’re not really alive. You’re a shell. Daddy Dearest taught me the body was just the host for the soul, useless without its spirit.

  With a soul grasped tightly in his fist, he could give a command and the body would obey it without thought, aside from the command input and processed through the network of neurons inside the brain.

  He likened it to turning someone into a computer.

  I likened it to being turned into a zombie.

  I would never forget the feel of being on the receiving end of that initial furatus—the demon word for stealing a soul from an unwilling body. It changed me. It also gave me something valuable, something so precious the Dominus would never allow me to even hope for it.

  Leverage.

  Odd how my subconscious would choose to reflect on that day as Gregor stood over me, shaking his head in disappointment while my world faded to black.

  Ice cold water nailed me in the face and yanked me out of my stupor. This, too, had become a habitual experience, so familiar I no longer sputtered when the liquid flew into my nose and mouth.

  Learn or die, right, girl?

  Prying my heavy eyelids open was more challenging than lifting a Volkswagen. I rubbed my temple, convinced I’d been hit by a train carrying forty tons of freight.

  Gregor handed the bucket back to Mateus, one of the elite soldiers who also lived in the manor. He was my age and my former sparring partner. He was also the only being I thought of as a friend. I glared at them both.

  “You could have killed me, Gregor.”

  I sat up, waiting for the tilt-a-world in my head to stop before dragging myself to my feet.

  “Don’t drop your guard, Lyric.”

  “I’m serious, G!”

  “As am I. Do you need a reminder that you are half demon? Which makes you extremely hard to kill?”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “No buts. You dropped your guard. You’ve never dropped it before. I hope you learned what happens when you do. You did well to put space between us, but the second you righted, you should have been ready for the next attack, with your guard up.”

  “Sure thing, G. No more dropping my guard,” I grumbled, giving a half-assed salute.

  I wasn’t being sarcastic. My guard would stay up from now on. Once I made a serious mistake, I never repeated it. Sadly, I made a shit ton of new mistakes. Gregor often said I should have been named Calamity.

  “And stop calling me G. It’s a letter, not my name.”

  Mateus chuckled and winked at me, then quickly schooled his face when Gregor turned to him.

  “Don’t encourage her, Mateus. She’s a menace as it is.”

  I flipped him off behind his back and Mateus laughed again.

  “Must you always be so … you?” Gregor complained.

  “Must you always be such an asshole?” I retorted, hiding the twinge under my rib cage. Words were the only weapon I had difficulty learning how to deflect. What was so wrong with being me?

  A lot, apparently.

  “Watch your language, Alyrica.”

  My body tensed at the sound of my father’s voice. I hadn’t seen him but a handful of times these past few months. He’d been travelling back and forth to the Otherland, as well as to other crossings, dealing with whatever he dealt with. When he was home, I made it my job to be wherever he was not.

  This building was on the opposite side of the property, the furthest I could go without breaking any rules. It was also the place I visited for what I considered therapy—pummeling the males who worked for my father.

  Females weren’t ever allowed to spar with me, something about me being a danger to them. It was my biggest source of pride. Granted, there were few things in my life over which I could feel such a sentiment.

  Mateus straightened in good soldier boy fashion. He’d begun acting abnormally careful around Gabrian shortly after taking my virginity when we were seventeen. He needn’t have bothered. Gabrian could give two shits who I boinked.

  Gregor’s reaction was typical Gregor. He merely inclined his head in silent acknowledgment to his brother.

  “Sorry, Father.” I wasn’t. Habit had me saying the well-rehearsed line.

  He ignored my apology and slowly circled the perimeter of the room, hands in his pockets. He looked out of place in the training area with his light grey three-piece suit and fancy polished shoes.

  Gabrian didn’t look a day over thirty-five. His thick dark hair would never turn silver. His body would remain fit and strong, barring any nasty spells the witches or fairies could conjure.

  Attractiveness and perpetual youth were two of the many perks of being a demon. Couple that with the strong sex drive of any Fortis and it created an irresistible combo. At least, for the human chicks, according
to Mateus.

  I’d wager Gabrian had his fair share of female attention. I assumed my own mother had fallen prey to it. Thank the gods he kept his sex life away from me. My upbringing had been screwed up enough as it was.

  Years of learning to prioritize the biggest threat in a room had me tracking his steps. He walked slowly, viewing and admiring the various weapons on the walls as though they were museum pieces. Father didn’t need weapons. He was the most dangerous weapon of all.

  Males were always stronger than the females of our kind, no matter if the mother was human or Other. Who knew genetic code could be sexist? What a disappointment I must have been on the birthing table.

  “Mateus, I’d like to speak with Alyrica and Gregor in private.”

  The young male bowed to his Dominus, sparing me a quick glance before he walked away. Fifteen footsteps echoed off the concrete floor. 4.2 seconds elapsed between clicks of the door opening and closing.

  Sometimes my brain tracked the trivial, something I’d been doing since birth. Father hated anything he considered trivial.

  “Status?” Gabrian asked, studiously examining an arrow tip he’d removed from one of the many quivers.

  Gregor crossed his arms, looking me up and down. What was with the creepy uncle leering?

  “Superior memory. Outstanding accuracy with every weapon attempted, especially the bow. More than proficient in hand-to-hand. Good balance. Strong. Quick. Likes to blow up things with the C-4. Cusses like a sailor, but you already knew all of that.”

  I pressed my lips tight to hide my grin. No one had ever praised me like this. I started hand-to-hand training shortly after my seventh birthday. By age fourteen, I was an expert with the bow, a variety of throwing stars, and even the long spears.

  I was a natural, though no one made any comment on it. Warriors didn’t pat one another on the back.

  Gregor had refused to let me train with a blade until this year, stating I would be better off knowing evasive maneuvers and mastering weapons engaged from afar. I knew it was because I was female and, thus, smaller and weaker. I begged for years until he finally caved.

  “So, nothing new?” Gabrian frowned.

  “Yes and no. She’s been partial to short swords for a while. She has an unusual affinity for the katanas. Almost as good as I am with them. She’ll surpass me soon.”

  That got my father’s attention. I’d had the katanas for less than a week, spending virtually every free minute I had figuring out how to use them.

  They were an early birthday present from Gregor. Well, not really, but I pretended they were because he’d handed me the weapons several days ago and my twenty-first birthday was tomorrow. A girl could dream.

  “You’re joking,” Gabrian uttered in disbelief.

  My uncle had been honing his skills with his twin swords for centuries. I’d had only a matter of days of training with them. Though, in all fairness, I’d been watching and mentally compiling what he could do with the weapons since I was old enough to think about it.

  “I never joke.”

  Gregor was right. He had no sense of humor. I was more concerned with why my father was asking. Idle chit chat was not his style, nor was checking up on me other than to berate me or give me orders.

  “Father—”

  “Quiet. Is she ready, Gregor?”

  “I believe she is.”

  “Ready for what?” I asked.

  “To fulfill your duty to your clan,” Gabrian replied.

  I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. This wasn’t so bad. Gabrian wanted to know if I could handle myself in a fight. Aside from sparring with Gregor, I hadn’t been bested in over a year by men who had lifetimes of training and actual combat under their belts.

  I knew I was an anomaly, in terms of gender roles and abilities. But, really, considering who my father was, no one acted surprised.

  All demons in the clan learned to fight. It ensured we could police ourselves and deal with anyone attempting to enter or leave the Otherland without permission. No one was exempt from training.

  Building up our force also showed strength to other factions, many of which had the potential to become threats. This was especially true for those strong enough to guard the other crossings.

  Each of the crossings in Earth Realm were protected by only the fiercest of creatures. Their jobs were to ensure no unsanctioned traversing occurred. There were also Gatekeepers on the other end of each crossing who shared the same mission.

  Only certain immortals had the ability—or the balls—to slip between realms without authorization. Everyone feared the consequences, be it from the Gatekeeper, or from the crossing itself.

  It was relatively easy for supernatural beings born in Earth Realm to pass through into the Otherland. In fact, many were drawn to the powers of what were, essentially, openings to the land where magic was allegedly birthed. We would be stronger there.

  Unfortunately, very few could come back. It was almost a guaranteed one-way trip. Only beings with considerable power, like my father and uncle, could handle the drain on the return journey to Earth Realm.

  I didn’t have to worry about any of that. My duty was to learn to fight and defend the clan, if necessary. It seemed logical, so why did my stomach still have that queasy feeling?

  “On second thought, Gregor, I’d like to speak to my daughter alone.”

  “I’d be happy to explain things, if you prefer.”

  “No.”

  Gregor hesitated. Gabrian held his gaze until his younger sibling finally lowered his eyes.

  It was the biggest show of defiance I’d ever seen my uncle display. Acid bubbled in my belly, slowly burning its way up my esophagus.

  “Very well. Lyric, come find me when you two are finished.”

  I nodded at Gregor, worrying my lip between my teeth. Bad things happened when Gabrian Petrov wanted to be alone with me.

  Chapter 2

  ____________________

  Lyric

  “Tomorrow is an important day for you.”

  My eyebrows about hit my hairline. El Padre was acknowledging my birthday? The end of the world must be near. I bit my tongue, wary of where his thoughts were headed.

  “As you have done every year for the past fourteen, you will visit the crossing.”

  I shifted my weight, focusing on the mat beneath my feet. I didn’t like thinking about my yearly trek to that gods-forsaken spot. Why he forced me there remained a mystery. Each year ended the same—me on the ground and my soul clutched in my father’s hand as punishment.

  “This time, I want you to enter.”

  My eyes snapped to his.

  “You want me to voluntarily step inside the crossing?”

  Every birthday was a repeat of the one before. The same soul was always there waiting. Sometimes, there were others, too, but always the one. With each visit, the urge to touch the soul with my own grew. Luckily, I’d never been close enough to actually attempt it.

  While my powers may have brushed up against what I could only assume was a Shadow demon, our souls had never actually connected. I’d read that soul, as surely as it had read mine, but we’d never been in close enough range for me to act upon my urges.

  Even if we had been in range, I’d need to nip said urges in the bud. Reading a soul with one’s magic was fine, though it was typically only done when first meeting. Touching soul to soul, however, was something Others considered exceptionally intimate. It was rude, if not a little taboo, to do so with a stranger.

  Using my magic as I did was equal to offering a handshake. Touching soul to soul? That was more like greeting someone by stripping you both naked—a major faux pax in every culture.

  Whenever I reached out with my powers to examine, I inadvertently ended up inside the damned tunnel. I tried twice before to not bother with a scan. Both times I failed miserably.

  It was like I was incapable of not reaching out to the being at the other end. Something happened when my
powers skimmed across that soul, and I somehow got yanked towards it. Not far enough to actually cross into the Otherland, but far enough to earn my father’s wrath.

  I’d never gotten a look at whomever my powers kept reaching towards. Tomorrow, I was determined to catch a glimpse.

  Last year, I felt the being’s mirth when I got knocked on my ass harder than usual and slowly exhaled a harsh explicative. Despite the torture I was enduring courtesy of my Daddy the Dominus, I’d managed to raise one hand towards the crossing and slowly extend my longest digit.

  When Gregor snorted in disbelief and Gabrian lost his focus, I knew I’d done something wondrous. To this day, it’s the only time I’d ever heard my uncle reveal he did, in fact, possess the capacity to laugh. Father broke the offending finger, but I had no regrets. Flipping the bird was a classic.

  “You’ll not just go inside. I want you to cross over,” the deep voice broke through my reverie.

  A cold chill zipped up my spine holding me still as a statue. Crossing over was the easy part for demons. I didn’t know if I was powerful enough to get back.

  Scratch that. Returning likely wasn’t an option. No cambion, as far as I knew, ever had. Those of mixed demon and human DNA either died entering or fell victim to the portal’s magics on the way back.

  “I don’t understand,” I got out around my thickening tongue. My entire body was taut, my fight or flight instinct kicking in.

  “You don’t need to understand. Tomorrow you will cross over.”

  “Are you trying to test my powers?” Or get me killed?! my inner voice shouted.

  “No. You’re strong enough to survive it.”

  He sounded convinced. I couldn’t trust it. Trusting him wasn’t something I’d ever allow myself to do.

  “What do I do when I make it across?”

  I had every intention of making it across. This wasn’t going to be the end for me. I would not be ended by Gabrian’s games.

  “I’m sending you to Draven. We agreed you would cross when you were twenty-eight. Something has come up and he needs you sooner.”

  My jaw opened, closed, then opened again. There was too much in that statement to get my head around. Namely, what on earth would the Shadow Lord want with me?