Page 11 of Broken Shadows

“There’s one or more signatures ahead. Do you feel it?” I ask Ezra.

He tilts his head. “Yeppers. Huh, something about it calls to me more than usual.”

“Yeppers? Really?” I scoff, blowing a cloud of smoke in his direction.

We round the bend, and a familiar signature immediately assaults me. She spends enough time around my little witch that I’d know her signature anywhere; the human rainbow. I huff, smoke rushing through my nostrils like a dragon preparing to incinerate an enemy. I reach to open the door on the right, Rosa’s essence blinking within, then pivot sharply. The scent of Aiden’s strong-ass cologne—a blend of mint, neroli, and sea water—reaches me. My shadows slide into the keyhole, slink around the tumblers, then disengage the rudimentary lock. A long creak issues as the door swings open, and I enter the left door of the set. I stride into the room and scour my surroundings. Muted colorful sunrays arrow through the lone stained-glass window and onto a pitiful bed. I kick at the sheets half puddled on the floor. Aiden’s faint scent lingers on the bedding, but it pales in comparison to how Evie’s scent crosses over from the Human Realm.

“Anything?” Ezra asks from the doorway, tattooed hands gripping the frame.

“Yes, and no. Aiden has slept here.” I finger the comforter, then take a drag of my cigarette.

“Aiden? Oh, that college kid with the perpetually backward baseball cap on his head?”

“Yes, my valet. But I don’t feel his signature here.” I exit the room, impatience nipping at my heels.

My shadows grip the edges of Rosa’s door and tear it from its hinges, sending it crashing into the hallway. The door ricochets off the opposite wall, a corner lodging into the cathedral gray wall. Bits of wood turned sawdust float in the air as I glare at the offending obstruction. I shrug, dust my shoulders off, and barrel into the room. If I were in the Human Realm, no doubt some human would scream their fucking heads off at the noise. My lips twitch upward. Sometimes the Shadow Realm has its perks.

Ezra shucks off his purple hoodie, tosses it over a shoulder, and plants his fists on his hips. “Well done, Brother. I bet they heard that all the way in Hell.”

I ignore Ezra and channel all of my focus into inspecting the cramped space around me. My lip curls in disgust as I roam throughout the room. I drag my fingertips along the simple dark blue bedding stretched across the queen-sized bed, leaving long furrows in the thick layer of ash coating it, coarse fibers catching on my skin. Well, they’re certainly not keeping her in a fucking cell. In fact, it appears as though all the entrapments of simple human comfort crowd the space. Yet, something is missing. I rub my jaw, ignoring the grainy feel of dust rubbing against my scruff.

An indent forms on one side of the bed as I round it. I tip my head to the side, curiosity winning out, then a shudder rakes over me as I walk into Rosa’s imprint. Fuck me, that’s unpleasant. I shake my head and hastily step away. If I am going to immerse myself in anyone’s imprint, it will be Evie’s. A sharp pain spreads behind my ribs. “Godsdammit,” I growl and rub my sternum. I cannot decide which is worse, longing for my witch or a century of solitude.

“What is it?” Ezra questions as he glides over to me.

“Nothing,”

“Uh huh. Sure,” he replies.

“Fuck off, Ez.”

“Oh Fuckity-fuck. You called me Ez. It’s just like old times.”

Ezra’s heavy arms wrap around me and squeeze as he rocks side to side.

A growl vibrates my chest. “Get off of me.”

Ezra drops his hold, then steps back and sweeps an arm across the room. Point at something, he asks, “Did you see this shit?”

But my eyes stray to a pair of hands clasped in prayer tattooed on his triceps. My glare bores into the mockery of a religious tattoo for a moment longer before I allow my gaze to follow the direction he’s indicating.

“What the Hell?” The grimy wall greets my fingers as I trace around a dark rectangle on the wall opposite the queen size bed. I look over my shoulder, noticing another similar but smaller rectangle, darker than the surrounding paint, near the simple wooden desk. They removed something. Dread coils low in my stomach. You have got to be fucking kidding me. I race into the closet sized bathroom, likely added during the abbey’s renovations to make it livable, and flick on the lights. “Gods fucking dammit,” I seethe while staring at the blank, discolored wall above the sink.

They removed all the mirrors.

I lean forward, my hips pressing into the cool stone counter, and read the barely legible scrawl:

SILAS WAS HERE.

Shit, of course he was. I should’ve known he, of all my brothers, would be smart enough not to miss that little detail; plus, he would never miss an opportunity to fuck up my life further.

Ezra leans his shoulder against the doorjamb, then nods at the graffiti. “Fucking, Silas.”

My lips thin as I ponder all the ways I’ll extract my brother’s intestines from his body. Ezra wisely steps to the side as I storm from the room, my hands clenching and unclenching into fists at my sides. I pace soundlessly on the thin, threadbare carpet. My fingertips sink into my raven locks as I grip the size sides of my head and close my eyes. Where do humans typically place mirrors?Fucking think, Lorcan.A muscle in my jaw flutters angrily as I grind my molars. If there’s no mirror in the bathroom or on the walls… My thoughts trail off and my eyes fly open.

Her purse.

Most human women carry them, and if everything Evie said about Rosa is true, there must be a big ass purse here somewhere stuffed with nonsense. I dart about the room, rooting in the small dresser and tearing hangers from their hooks as I swiftly search the space.

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