Shadow Kissed 03 - Shadowman

was less enthusiastic. They needed time. Eventually Shadowman would come for her. He’d built a gate to Hell; he wouldn’t let her lose her mind in Twilight. Right? Right.
    â€œAnytime soon would be good,” Zoe said.
    But what if he was angry? He had reason to be. She’d demanded the worst, and then forced his hand by coming after Zoe.
    No. He wouldn’t abandon her like this.
    The fae moved forward, barefoot and splendid, gods in their own world. A hunger in their eyes.
    Layla needed time.
    â€œRun!” she said. Every second counted. Where is he?
    She turned and grabbed hold of Abigail’s other arm. Zoe was just as quick and they lunged into the trees together. Branches scraped Layla’s arms and roots stubbed her feet, but she pushed forward. Running, running.
    Which way? Didn’t matter.
    Just deeper into the trees. One minute, five minutes, as if time had any meaning there.
    When Layla looked back, she’d opened no distance from the pursuing fae, who walked at leisure through the trees as if on a stroll.
    The forest grew more dense and dark as they ran, an endless growth of magic.
    â€œShadowman!” she screamed, but the air swallowed the sound.
    Her foot caught and she fell, flat bellied, barely breaking her fall with a palm skid to her elbows. She flipped over, ready to fight. Only stupid girls in bad horror movies fell when chased by monsters. At her feet, she found a long staff was the culprit. The straight length of dark wood was so incongruous with the trees that even with the approach of the fae, she spared a glance to see what it was.
    At the staff’s end was a severe curved blade, glinting in the twilight. It could only belong to one person: Shadowman.
    Layla gripped the shaft with both hands and heaved the blade upward. The scythe was sized for the beast in him, huge, wide, the moon-shaped metal an unwieldy weight for her frame.
    â€œYou’ve found his weapon,” Scissor Lady said, “but you lack the power to use it.”
    If he would just come, the scythe would be waiting. All the pieces were here, ready. Where was he?
    Layla swung the scythe in a clumsy arc, but the blade passed right through the fae as if they weren’t even there.
    â€œTickled,” said the naked woman, giggling. “Do it again.”
    â€œWe’re screwed,” Zoe said. “He’s not coming. He’s not coming!”
    Or not coming quickly enough.
    Then it was down to fists and feet and teeth. There was power in mortality; Layla just had to find it.
    â€œPoor little girl,” Scissor Lady said. She reached out her hand, and in a jerk of perception, she was suddenly right in front of Layla, stroking her cheek. Except Layla wasn’t an adult; she was a child again. Lost and alone. “It’s safe here under my skirt.”
    â€œI’ll pass, thanks,” Layla answered, stumbling back with revulsion. She shook her head to clear the illusion. To grow back up. Already her mind was going.
    The naked woman had a grip on Abigail, while the fae man petted Zoe.
    â€œSo many things I want to try with you,” he said.
    Abigail let up a wail. The naked woman pulled strands of light from Abigail’s skin, like ghostly marionette strings. “Feels good.”
    â€œWe get so few with both the body and soul intact,” Scissor Lady said.
    â€œGet off my sister!” Zoe cried.
    Layla dropped the useless scythe and lunged for the naked fae toying with Abigail. Tumbled her off and set the creature shrieking with laughter. Layla went to punch the fae in the face, but her wrist was captured by Scissor Lady, who effortlessly lifted her and dragged her some paces away. Layla’s kicking legs scored the earth, and her hands swatted the air to find the woman behind her. The effort was wasted.
    â€œNow, pet,” Scissor Lady chided, “you belong to me, not her.”
    Layla was nobody’s pet.
    The naked woman straddled Abigail’s fallen body. Abigail moaned, turning her head to the side. Layla perceived a brief shift, a blurring of flesh and light, of disengagement between Abigail’s soul and body, the same that Layla had experienced in the grip of the ghost. Abigail’s body was expiring, yet her soul was still pinned between the naked woman’s legs.
    Zoe was scrabbling on the ground, working for the scythe. The fae man stood back for a moment, making a show of admiring Zoe’s backside.
    They’d all