Page 28 of Hunted in the Shadows
I leaned my arms on my knees, pinning her with a look until she met my gaze, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her face. “You may be the bravest person I’ve ever known.”
“I don’t see it that way,” Sylvia snorted, but there was a threadiness there—that sacred trust she reserved for me.
“Then, I’ll help you see.” I gave her a once-over, my certainty pushing a brighter smile onto my face. “Give it time, I think you’ll have no shortage of legends in every corner of the country about you.”
A wash of satisfaction softening the anxious lines on Sylvia’s face. “I look forward to hearing them. But I know how hunters exaggerate. How can I trust a word you’ll say?”
I let my voice drop to a conspiratorial whisper, leaning closer. “You can’t. I’m extremely biased.”
Despite the gusting wind rattling the wooden walls, she and I shared a soft laugh. Seeming to wrestle herself into a new train of thought, Sylvia leaned back on her seat and craned her neck to study our surroundings.
She gestured at one of the intact stained-glass windows, where there was a depiction of an angel. “I’ve never seen such colorful panes. It makes the lightning a little less horrifying, I suppose.”
I shined my flashlight where she pointed, illuminating the figure and its glorious feathery wings. Sylvia’s eyes lit up at how the beam sent refractions of color across the rest of the room. She looked down at her hands, marveling at the light dancing across her skin. For the first time since the storm had begun, a breathless grin brightened her features as she wiggled her fingers. In the moment I was studying her, I forgot I was cold and soaked to the bone.
Sylvia looked up at me, grin faltering as she studied me. “What bothers you so much about this place?” she asked in that gentle tone that read far too deeply. “You look ready to bolt, but I know for afactyou’ve seen worse than a few creepy statues.”
“Just because hunts tend to take us to rotting buildings doesn’t mean Ilikeit,” I deflected, lifting my eyebrows at her.
Sylvia rolled her eyes, her smirk flickering with transparent disappointment.Don’t hide from me,her gaze pleaded. That chafing feeling panged me again—the relentless prying at the careful walls I maintained. She deserved more, and I resigned even as my throat closed around the words.
“The last time I was inside a church, my family was still intact.”I exhaled through my nose, pushing a hand back through my wet hair to sweep stray locks off my face. “I really never minded going; it was tradition. But after everything that happened to us… The evil I’ve seen thrust onto so many others—goodpeople,innocentpeople…”
I trailed off, my chest tight. I still remembered some of the faces, and my pulse raced. For every life Cliff and I had saved over the years, there were ten others who had suffered a brutal, unjust fate. We hadn’t been enough—hadn’t been fast enough.
“I can’t help but feel cheated,” I finished softly, pinching my shoulders in a tight, dismissive shrug. “There’s nothing out there listening to our pleas. So it’s up to us to carry out what we want to happen.”
Sylvia’s expression knit thoughtfully as she eyed the vacant outline of a cross between windows. She lifted her hands and whispered a spell, conjuring another fae light—golden this time—to replace the one that had faded. I watched the glow’s trajectory as she sent it soaring toward the ceiling with a flick of her wrist.
Her magic was a reflection ofher, and I was beginning to understand how to decode it. The shimmering orb, a little larger than my palm, bore a steady light, suggesting that she was recovering from the initial shock of the accident. It never ceased to amaze me how resilient she was for someone so delicate, even if much of it came from sheer stubbornness of will. The added light fixture illuminated more of the windows, spreading a warm hue over some of the peeling walls.
“Well, the stars brought you to me,” she said, almost shy as she faced me again. “So I wouldn’t rule out hope entirely thatnothingis listening.”
The corner of my lips lifted. She was wrong, but her idealism painted color into the world.
“The stars couldn’t give us a less violent way to cross paths?” I asked. Though our first encounter at Dottage mansion felt like another life now,the image of her terrified expression was etched into my mind like glass. More than once in the last few weeks alone, she had brought up our use ofthat damn boxwith icy bitterness.
But now, she laughed.
“How could it be any other way? Look at you,” Sylvia said. “All you boys do is raise hell wherever you go. And besides, who are mere mortals to question the cosmos?”
I grinned gamely, leaning my arms on my knees as I leveled my gaze closer to her. “Give me names, I’m more than happy to rattle the stars for you.”
Her drooping wings gave a flutter as my words washed over her. “Jon, don’t give me filthy thoughts during a thunderstorm. It’s confusing to sort through,” she breathed out.
“What? I didn’t do anything.”
“You know exactly what you’re doing! With your stupid, wet hair and that tone in your voice…”
I flicked my gaze over her. She had a point about the wetness; her hair hung in tight crimson ringlets just above her shoulders, and her sodden clothes clung to every curve, leaving very little to the imagination. A few scant droplets still lingered on her exposed shoulders and navel—and my single, consuming thought was how much I wanted to kiss them off of her body. Maybe ease a few of those bruises with some warmth.
Jesus,I was such a freak.
But now that we’d started, I couldn’t bring myself to stop. “It’s not too late to admit that I’m too much for you,” I challenged, letting my voice dip lower.
That familiar spark of wildness crept onto her face. Slowly, she leaned forward to match my smoldering gaze—unafraid.
“No. I’ll have you, violence and all,” she said. “I already tried to push you from my mind a million times before—and look where that got me.”
