Shadow Hunt by Erin Kellison Page A

expected to die, that is. For us, it is a final thing that crushes us out of existence.”
    Cam noted that the Shadow in the room began to churn. Yes, they were coming.
    “The only way you can beat her now is to die strong,” Zander said. “Do not give her the satisfaction of breaking your spirit.” He glanced over at Ellie’s sleeping form. “Though Mathilde certainly has the means to do so.”
    “Why are you telling me this?” Cam ground out. Voices murmured on the other side of the door.
    “I already told you,” Zander said. “I don’t like debts. It was an almost success for me today; and now an almost victory for you. We’re even.”
     
     
    Ellie was wrenched into wakefulness, as if pulled face-first through a plate of glass. She gasped at the pain of it, while attempting to assemble the shards of her consciousness.
    Cam, at her bedside, gun in hand. The barrel was alight with sparks, bullet frozen midair by magic.
    Mathilde held her shadow in thrall at the foot of the bed. Ellie’s shadow self was on her back, arching, legs spread, so Ellie could guess what was in store.
    Slight had a hand possessively on the shadow’s thigh.
    “Took you long enough to join us,” Mathilde said to Ellie. “Must have hit your head very hard. We are picking up where we left off this morning at the Seminary when my lesson was so rudely interrupted by Dr. Kalamos. This is what he fears so much, isn’t it?” She smiled. “So this has to be what will break him.”
    The horror of the scene came suddenly, cruelly together. Her shadow was hot and bothered. But the fear and awfulness of what was about to happen were muted by the fact that she and her shadow were not in union. She would watch what was to come . . . somewhat dispassionately. And maybe that’s the way she’d survive it.
    As Mathilde intended, Cam was far from dispassionate, and even to Ellie’s eye, he telegraphed his intent. He roared and launched himself at Slight, who’d started to lean over her dark self. The gun and wayward bullet both fell to the floor.
    Slight moved deftly into a turn and got Cam into a choke hold, that black knife, full of death, now at her beloved’s throat.
    “Hold on,” Mathilde said to Slight. “I want to try something.”
    That’s when Ellie noticed the other mage, Zander, from dinner last night, watching the scene play out from a chair by the flickering fireplace.
    Mathilde approached Cam, who strained in Slight’s grasp. “It’s not just Ellie’s shadow that I can hold and control. I can do the same to any human; I just haven’t had the chance yet to give you a try.”
    Again that melodic voice, upbeat and happy.
    Ellie slowly backed her way off the bed, as if afraid and attempting to run away. Likewise, no one seemed to consider her a threat. Next to her primal shadow, Ellie was often overlooked and underestimated.
    Mathilde held up a hand toward Cam, and Ellie could see the air move as Mathilde’s magic reached out to him.
    Ellie slid along the wall until she approached the fire. That mage Zander was close enough to stop her, so she’d have to kill him first. Then go for Mathilde, while Cam grappled with Slight. The decisions before her laid themselves out like a neat path of stones. She was glad she was not encumbered by her too strong, too emotional shadow. Some things were best undertaken by reason.
    First, a weapon. She felt behind her, just at the back of her leg, her body blocking her actions. She had to bend a little, so she hoped that Zander was too interested in the much more exciting sights near the bed—her shadow’s open crotch, for example, or the magic that Mathilde was attempting to inflict on Cam.
    “You are mine,” Mathilde said to Cam.
    “I am yours,” Cam said.
    Mathilde made a face. “I can tell you’re faking.” She looked over at Zander—Ellie froze—and complained, “He’s faking. It’s that Shadow within him. Won’t let me get a good hold on his soul. You’ll have to