Shadow Kissed 03 - Shadowman

dark. So white-bright it made her eyes tear. What now?
    â€œDamn fool angel,” the blacksmith growled under his breath.
    Angel? He was absolutely, unequivocally stark raving—
    Layla didn’t have time to dodge the swift caress of his fingers to her forehead. “Sleep,” he commanded.
    Even as her mind sparked with anger against his touch, her legs gave in a watery whoosh and she fell into darkness.
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    Shadowman caught Kathleen’s fluid drop and lifted her against his chest. Elation had him humming, trembling with excitement. He had to check himself so he wouldn’t crush her body.
    â€œThat her?” Custo asked as he approached. His gaze quickly flicked to the gate, hardened, then returned to Shadowman.
    â€œYes,” Death breathed.
    Custo’s doubt and impatience infused the crowded Shadows. “Then why is she mortal? And why is she out cold?”
    â€œI cast her into sleep so the gate wouldn’t plague her while I dealt with you. And she wasn’t in Hell after all.” Shadowman drew deep to inhale her scent; under the cloying perfumes of modernity was tangy, feminine sweat, turned slightly with fear. “She came to me.”
    Custo’s doubt redoubled and his brow lifted. “If you build it, she will come?”
    Shadowman frowned. The boy was laughing at him.
    â€œTalia is twenty-eight.” Custo jutted his chin toward Kathleen. “Shouldn’t she be in her fifties?”
    The woman in his arms was indeed young, fresh, new to the world. “She was reborn.”
    â€œReincarnated? That’s very rare. Damn near unheard of. Are you certain it’s her?”
    Shadowman did not deign to answer a second time. As if he wouldn’t recognize the woman who’d changed everything for him. Kathleen.
    â€œOkay, it’s her. Bully for you.” Custo’s gaze moved to the gate. “So that thing wasn’t necessary after all?”
    â€œThe gate drew her, did it not?”
    â€œNext time make a compass. Leave Hell and its devils alone, please.”
    A sear on his senses told Shadowman there were more of Custo’s kind massing outside the warehouse. The jumble of heartbeats confirmed it. They had come for the gate, but somehow he knew they’d refuse him Kathleen as well. They could not have her. He’d fight them if they tried to take her.
    â€œThey’re coming,” Custo said. “You’d better get her out of here.”
    â€œThe gate?”
    â€œWe’ll take care of it. No way it’s staying here, vulnerable.” His gaze dropped to Kathleen. “And I think your attention is going to be elsewhere.”
    The boy was ever naive. To transfer the keeping of something so drenched in power could never be that easy; such creations were bound to their maker. The gate would have to be unmade, which was a great deal more difficult than merely dismantling the metal.
    But the angel would have to learn that the hard way. Shadowman would take his reprieve to be with Kathleen. To help her remember. She had to remember.
    Shadowman reached into the darkness, parting the veil. “The hammer is on the anvil.”
    He watched as Custo strode over and gripped the hateful tool.
    Now only the devil remained, but Shadowman could deal with it on his own. The devil would wreak havoc with any it encountered, and so needed to be put down immediately. Otherwise, Kathleen would blame herself for the lives it took.
    But Custo need not know about that either. Knowledge of the devil would prolong the angels’ stay.
    Death stepped into darkness, his woman clutched at his chest.
    â€œWait,” Custo called.
    Shadowman paused but didn’t turn.
    â€œWhere can I find you?”
    As if he would ever let that happen before he was ready. “I’ll be in Shadow.”
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    How to begin? How to help her remember?
    Shadowman laid Kathleen on the soft earth under the glittering boughs of the dark trees. Fae voices murmured on the rise and gust of the wind.
    This incarnation of Kathleen would have her own idea of Death, created by this life’s experiences, fears, hopes for her future. Of all that, he knew nothing, and so could not chance revealing himself.
    At least in Twilight, Shadow sustained him. His form would be easier to hold. He filled his essence with the dark stuff. He’d need every bit until she remembered him and what they were to each other. Please.
    Her sickroom?