Shadow Bound Page 0,104

boat, sat at the edge of the malodorous filth, and held on for dear life.

The old man went to a grimy control panel and started the engine roaring. He angled out of the slip, away from the hum of the city, and into the lurching dark waters of the river.

No going back now.

TWENTY

THE Charon left the glittering banks of the Hudson behind. Talia tensed her body against the deep vibration of its engine and the choppy bounce of its progress on the water. Her nerves already had her stomach roiling. She couldn’t afford the extra encouragement of the boat’s movement. At least the speed of their passage brushed away the onboard smell of decay and whipped her hair in a sweet wind of revitalizing water spray.

They angled into dark waters spotted by the gleam of other boats, small and large. In spite of the considerable haze of the city’s light pollution, the sky above was brilliantly starcrusted, as if heaven had finally brought its attention to the goings-on of Earth.

Faster, faster, Talia urged.

The shoreline fell behind. All hope of safety dimmed as the lights grew smaller. They traveled into an ocean of rippling darkness, as if toward the end of the world. She sought no refuge now, no hiding place from monsters or herself. All that was in her past. Running away was not an option, not when everything that mattered—good and bad—lay in front of her.

And suddenly, hell loomed on the deep.

The Styx was a great upside-down anvil of a war cruiser, its deck blazing with the kind of light that drew misguided moths. The armored vessel hulked under the starlight, a product of industry and war, fitted and braced against nature.

Talia’s heart stuttered at the sight. No doubt the Styx had long seen the Charon’s approach. The demon Death Collector had to know someone was coming—another person ready to trade their humanity for immortality.

The old man brought the boat alongside the great ship with a wrenching scrape and idled near a narrow ladder. He turned, the pallor of his skin sickly yellowed in the ship’s light.

“The Styx.” He cocked his head at the wall of gray steel.

Talia’s nausea peaked as the wind died and the Charon rocked. She clenched her teeth against throwing up and gripped the side of the boat as mute terror blanked her mind.

“You want me to take you back?” The old man didn’t look like he cared much either way.

Talia shook her head slightly, so as not to be sick.

She could do this. Only yesterday her shadows had protected her and Adam during the failed attempt to save Custo’s life. And in shadow, she could manipulate objects with her mind. The combination of abilities would get her to Adam and then get them both to safety. She wasn’t asking for more than that. The destruction of the demon who called himself the Death Collector could wait for another time.

Right now was for Adam.

Her fear transmuted into an electric clarity that ran in a bristling current, just under her skin.

Talia stood, gathering shadow from the night. The cold, veils of darkness hung off her shoulders in billowing layers, at the ready. She pulled them more tightly around her to mask her boarding as she took hold of the ladder.

The rungs were chilly and wet on her hands.

A wraith—a woman with the slender face of an angel—leaned down the ladder to look for the demon’s newest supplicant.

Talia waited, heart pounding. Below, the Charon pulled away, leaving her one choice. Up.

“Must have chickened out,” the wraith called to the others and ducked out of sight.

Talia continued her climb, and near the top she glanced about the deck. To one side, a raised helipad hosted a faster mode of transportation to and from the ship. Handy. Wraiths clustered nearby. Ten, twelve, their attention directed on a pair that were sparring. The cracking blows they landed each other would have killed any normal person.

With this distraction, Talia crawled on deck.

Across a flat gray expanse was a narrow doorway, rectangular with rounded edges, leading to the interior of a bulky metal structure.

She forced herself to breathe more slowly, her heart to ease its frantic pace. Freaking out would help no one. She’d start with inside rooms and work through the ship. Check every corner, carefully and methodically.

Buried in shadows, Talia kept to the edge of the deck as she moved toward the door. She insinuated herself along the natural shades of dark and light that fell in the sharp lines