Page 14 of Broken Shadows

Evie

I keep my eyes clamped shut as a conversation filters into my consciousness, remaining as still as possible on the bed. Icy drafts climb over my bare arms and legs, and I suppress a shiver.

How long have I been out? One day? Two? It doesn’t matter. I’m still too exhausted to open my eyes. It’s better to pretend to be asleep, anyway. The moment my father becomes aware I’m conscious, his darkness comes back with a vengeance. My very presence seems to evoke a wrath in him that cannot be easily pacified.

I recognize the first voice belonging to Samuel, the evilest of all the brothers. Unlike Lorcan, whose darkness is mixed with a tidal wave of emotion, there is a notable lack of humanity behind Samuel’s words. Then there’s his stare with those dead, shark eyes.

A shiver ripples down my spine when I hear him shout, “The bitch is taking too long!” Then adds, “We need her magic, now! She’s the last of the Fallenmoore bloodline. Without her, the world will end.”

More lies.This bullshit the demons, well, Samuel in particular, has fed The Order about saving the world using my magic is so unbelievable it’s almost funny. I can’t believe The Order is so gullible. I’ve tried telling Edward the truth, that the brothers aren’t angels at all, but embodiments of the deadly sins that only want my magic so they can kill Lorcan. In a way, I’m glad he didn’t believe me. Otherwise, he’d have no good reason to keep me alive.

I’ve heard enough of their hushed talks during their watches when my father’s taking breaks between torture sessions.

They want me to use my powers to decimate Lorcan and obliterate his soul. I didn’t even know demons could die, but apparently, they can, and they need a living, powerful witch for that. But I won’t be their key to getting him out of the Shadow Realm just to destroy him.

My heart skips a beat at the thought of Lorcan not existing anymore. Despite everything that’s happened, I don’t want him dead. Then there’s Gomez and Rosa. I feel my little bat through our familial bond. He’s okay but trapped. I know he hates being in a cage. At least he’s in the same room as Rosa. Well, I assume that’s the case with the feelings Gomey has sent through our bond.

Edward sighs, dragging me from my thoughts. His voice is strained and quaky in parts when he replies, “I’m so close. Please, if I can just get more time.”

My lips twist when I hear himbega demon for more time to torture me. This supposed man of God has fallen so far that he’s in the depths of Hell and doesn’t even know it. Religion is nothing but a smokescreen he uses as a justification for his dark actions.

Growing up with him as my parent made me realize at an early age that the religious teachings themselves are not the problem, especially when some people who believe, like my dead brother did. Caden saw the bible—a book written by men in a time far different from ours—not as an instruction manual, but for what it was, an allegory. It’s the messages behind the stories that are important. Caden liked to see the best in people. He showed me that those people can exist who didn’t use rules and passages like my parents did to get their way.

He tried to see the good in me, too, until my magic decimated him. Caden taught me many things, but his final lesson was that evil people often win, and that the only way to beat them is to be worse. So. Much. Worse.

Fortunately, there isn’t anything I won’t do to destroy my father. Until then, I bide my time and pay my so-called penance. I’ll take anything he throws my way and commit every torturous, desperate feeling to memory so when I get out of here, I can sharpen that pain into vengeance.

Anger guides my thoughts as I hear footsteps stop beside the bed I’m strapped to. Samuel’s voice comes out smooth, like venom. “I will break her as you have failed to.”

I keep my eyes shut, but every muscle in my body tenses. Years of self-medicating and repression have buried my magic so deeply that now it comes out all wrong. Edward has tried but failed to make me release it fully through torture and murder.

I’ve worn that victory as a badge of honor ever since I arrived here. But as I feel Samuel’s icy fingers against my temples, my magic shifts in my core like a viper coiling in preparation for an attack.

A scream tears from my dry throat, the dehydrated, shriveled membranes lining it tearing in places, as I wrestle the leather restraints pinning me in place. My eyes fling open and the last thing I see before I’m plunged into darkness is the flat gray of Samuel’s eyes above me.

Inky depths pull me deeper to doors hidden in the shadows of my mind, places that my subconscious shoved the vilest memories to protect me. Pins and needles cover my entire body when I’m forced into a memory that washes over me like a tidal wave, drowning me in bitterness and rejection.

Mildew and mold hang heavy in my lungs as I’m transported to my family home, the one before Edward, Antoinette, and Caden, when I was the youngest witch of the most infamous coven in the world.

The walls of the corridors, wallpaper peeled in thick strips, pulse with the dark magic. Echoed calls from my family reach into mind as the floorboards groan underfoot, protesting my return. My bare feet smudge chalk demon circles drawn onto grimy floorboards. I glance up at a charred painting of my family, and the little girl standing with her father’s hands on her shoulders. A girl who dared to believe in her own light before it was smothered by shadows.

Faded incantations scratched into the chipped, black painted walls surround the fire-damaged portrait of me and my family. An altar, scarred with gouges, scratches, and stains stands intact under it as a grim reminder of the countless rituals marred by so much Hell magic that it’s impenetrable to destruction.

Words seep into me like daggers as I recall things said by my biological parents. They unfold as if I’m watching a montage of memories through my five-year-old eyes.

I wanted to be like the other kids on our street with normal families. Echoes of their laughs haunt me when I remember running with them through fields, playing make believe, and eating the food they snuck from their houses for me.

But my innocent intentions were quickly warped into something deadly.

My heart skips a beat, and I fall to my knees, clutching at my chest and gasping for air. Their little faces float back into my mind’s eye. Two girls and a boy.

We were friends.

I had friends.

Until that one night, when I’d brought them to my house. Sneaking them through the window of my room so no one would see. I was desperate to show them my collection of porcelain dolls. Well, the ones my brother hadn’t yet beheaded.

I’d hidden in the closet, holding the handles so my family couldn’t get in. I watched through the gaps after my now angry parents discovered my friends in my room. Their faces were so warped with hatred I thought they were going to kill me for it, so I’d hidden like a fucking coward.

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