Dark Champion (Flirting with Monsters #4) - Eva Chase Page 0,43

alleviate my uneasy spirits.

As we crossed the courtyard through the shadows of the buildings and passing tourists, my companion gave off an equally discomforted vibe alongside his usual dour energy. When we’d found Flint, he’d been living alone in a hut in the middle of the desert, flagellating himself mentally—and perhaps physically, not that I was inclined to check for the scars—for remaining while so many of our kind had died. That had been mere weeks ago.

I was only just coming to terms with the idea that my survival might have been the result of keen thinking on my part rather than a failing of valor. But Sorsha had been right when she’d pointed out that I scarcely recalled what we’d even been fighting about. More and more I was coming to believe that if I’d heeded my doubts back then more rather than less, the outcome for all my brethren might have been better.

There was no telling what we might encounter with the two wingéd I could sense in this place the mortals called the Vatican, though. For them to have chosen to linger on the rooftop in such a place did not bode well for them having moved beyond wallowing in our history. As one who might have wallowed now and then myself, I was well-equipped to recognize the signs.

But they were here, and every wingéd had a warrior’s instincts and power. We needed allies now more than ever. And I would like to contribute something to our current cause beyond nearly battering our commander into a senseless pulp.

That was all the mortal woman who’d earned my heart had seen from me in recent days. How could I stake any claim on her affections in days to come, let alone as large a claim as I’d have liked to make, if all I could offer her was brutality and gore?

I’d brought Flint into our band. I could do the same with these two. Act the diplomat rather than the barbarian.

“I do not like the echoes of this place,” Flint muttered as we drew close to the main building. “Why do so many mortals flock to it?”

“They weren’t alive to experience the past these structures harken back to,” I said. “The echoes are more fanciful than real for them.”

He replied with only a grunt. Without needing to discuss our approach, we rose up through the shadows around the columns that framed the doorway, aiming for the rooftop where our brethren’s presence rang out most strongly.

They’d set up their sort-of camp around the back of the intricate dome. High above the surrounding buildings, I allowed myself to step from the patches of darkness into physical form to meet them in a presentation more suited to this realm. If they wouldn’t even detach themselves from the shadows, they wouldn’t be much use to us in our conflict.

The warmth of the morning sunlight steadied me. “My brethren,” I said, low but loud enough to carry around the pale stone. “We come to pay our respects in a time of great need.”

The dual impressions shifted, coming around to the side of the dome one right behind the other. Something about their form in the darkness sent a skittering sensation through my nerves. Then they materialized onto the dingy concrete, and I understood why.

Both of the figures, one male and one female, had the same stature and might Flint and I could boast. They were also both damaged beyond the abilities of their shadowkind powers to heal.

The man stood lopsided, one of his arms missing and little more than a hollow where his right shoulder had been, the flesh there twisted into thick, knobby scars. The woman had lost her left leg from the knee down, a worn wooden post fixed in its place, but more striking was her face, where half of her jaw had been carved away.

We could form our physical features and dissolve them again as we leapt from and back into the shadows, but those features were set in our essence… and if they were damaged beyond repair, they remained so, just as a shadowkind who died mortal-side remained dead. By all appearances, these two had only narrowly escaped the latter fate.

A different sort of uneasiness rippled through my chest. Even with the mangling of her face, the sight of the woman wingéd struck me with an unexpected sense of familiarity.

One she evidently shared. Her gaze skimmed over us and settled on me. Her voice came out warbled around the