Life in Shadows
Authors: Elliott Kay
Life in Shadows
By
Elliott Kay
Copyright 2015 Elliott Kay
Cover Illustration Copyright 2015 Lee Moyer
Cover Design Copyright 2015 Lee Moyer
Leemoyer.com
Kindle Edition, License
Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This
ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to
share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for
each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
To anyone who ever
wished they’d have a book dedicated to their name.
This one’s for you.
Congratulations.
arning
The
four stories found in
Life in Shadows
collectively contain explicit
violence, extended explicit sex scenes, explicit karaoke, profanity, rampant
nudity, assault, murder, breaking and entering, belligerent urban wildlife,
premeditated sexual promiscuity, vehicular assault, reckless endangerment,
attempted kidnapping, attempted robbery, attempted ritual demonic possession,
blatant violation of state regulations of adult entertainment, punching,
kicking, cutting, stabbing, shooting, hair-pulling, name-calling, slut-shaming,
cheap Halloween costumes, strippers, hipsters, poseurs, police, personal calls
while on duty, arson, destruction of private property, lingerie, war criminals,
break-up text messaging, lesbian demon seduction, accusations of Mary Suedom,
poor workplace morale, premarital sex, nude calisthenics, immolation, false
identification, ruthless exploitation of personal beauty, unsafe crowd control
standards, vertigo, nude calisthenics, destruction of evidence, elitism, racism
(don’t worry, he dies), open relationships, workplace scapegoating, adult use
of plumbing implements, fantasy depictions of witchcraft and paganism, at least
one reincarnated ancient European warlord, and a girl-on-girl grenade fight.
All
characters are over the age of 18, except the aforementioned reincarnation of
an ancient European warlord. That gets sketchy.
Life in Shadows
collects four
stories set before, during and after the novels
Good Intentions
and
Natural
Consequences
. These stories and the novels take place in the following
order:
Authenticity: Spring
Naked Justice: Summer
Good Intentions
: September
Halloween for Life: October
Natural Consequences
:
October/early November
Skin: Two weeks later
uthenticity
“Did
you carve that adorable wand yourself, or did you buy it somewhere?”
Onyx
stiffened. The question, asked from behind her with false warmth, interrupted
her spell. The winged, seven-foot-tall gargoyle in front of her stared back
with face-devouring rage. Onyx felt pretty much the same way.
Bitch did
not
just check my magic cred in a place like this
, she thought, yet she knew
that some in this crowd would do exactly that.
The
gallery held a couple dozen Practitioners. Almost every one of them saw the
rest as a check on their own potential power. Grimacing, Onyx lowered her ebony
wand and turned to face the inevitable games of “What’s Your Practice (So I Can
Mock It)?” and “Witches Aren’t Real Sorcerers.”
The
middle-aged couple presented insincere smiles on unremarkable faces. Most of
the attendees dressed nicely, if not quite formally. Onyx fit into that
category with her long black frock coat, red top and dark slacks. These two
went above and beyond the rest. Everything about their clothes screamed excess,
from his suit and her embroidered scarlet dress to their gloves and
accessories.
No
one else seemed interested in the conversation. Small groups of attendees stood
here and there, talking among themselves or looking over the open crates,
boxes, and the odd bits that didn’t pack up so easily, like the gargoyle. At a
glance, one might think the gallery was transitioning between displays.
Everyone present, however, knew this for the much more somber occasion it
was—though apparently the floor was now open to cattiness and petty sniping.
Beard
with no mustache
.
What the fuck leads a man to make
that choice?
“Do
you have a problem with my wand?” Onyx replied flatly. Though her dark curls
and young, pretty features gave her a soft image, she was ready to parry and
thrust if necessary, be it with words or magic. If neither of those worked, she
could always try stomping with her knee-high Doc Marten boots. She already felt
like skipping straight to that option.
“Oh,
you’re no problem at all. I only ask because it has such a busy style,” the
woman explained. “A wand is more effective if the user creates it herself, but
I suppose there are sometimes reasons to buy from a crafter instead. Especially
if you’re only starting out. Besides, smooth contours and bulbs like those
would probably only come out on a lathe. It’s very…Hermione.”
The
young witch blinked. Her wand looked like nothing of the sort. It had a
different shape, style, and even a completely different color. Still, arguing
over that was pointless. Harry Potter references eliminated any possibility
that the woman wasn’t mocking her. “You two came all the way out to Seattle to
cosplay as people who grew out of high school?” Onyx gave them an approving
nod. “Good job on the threads. Maybe work on the characterization a bit more.”
She
turned back to the gargoyle.
Gotta be tourists. Locals would be way more subtle
with the passive-aggressive elitism.
“I
guess what we’d really like to know is why you have it out,” said
Beard-With-No-Mustache. “Were you not told the rules of this engagement?”
“She
has it out because she got permission,” said another woman. She wore a subtle,
dark suit and kept her long, black hair pulled back into a ponytail. Her lovely
light brown face bore little makeup. In contrast to Onyx’s sparring partners,
her silver jewelry was minimal and understated.
“We
were told there would be no casting.”
“As
a rule, no. One minor spell of perception, requested properly, in advance? Yes.
I made an exception.”
The
pair of visitors took in the same frustrated breath. “And what is the proper
form of requests for exception, Ms. Oakwood?” asked the woman. “Is there some
custom? I’m sorry, we’re proper hermetics. We’re not up on Native etiquette.”
The
hostess’s dry tone offered no forgiveness for the implications. “She asked
politely. Using words. She was fine with being told no.”
Beard-With-No-Mustache
barely avoided rolling his eyes. “We didn’t mean to offend. Sorry we aren’t
familiar with the most politically correct behavior. Come on, darling.” He
tugged his companion along with one hand on her wrist.
Onyx
turned her blue eyes to meet the hostess’s gaze. “I didn’t mean to cause any
problems.”
“You
didn’t cause anything. They decided to make fools of themselves. ‘Native
etiquette’ my ass.” She rolled her eyes. “They see my complexion and hear where
I’m from and they assume I’m some shamanistic type all about spirits and
nature. And I am, but I also use a wand and even a Tarot deck sometimes. I
trade with Chen’s circle in the International District, too. Never heard them
complain about ‘Native influence,’ but I’m sure Archimedes and Hypatia there
would be mortified by all the cultural contamination.”
“Wait.
Are those really their names?”
“That’s
how they were listed on the invitations. They’re from Olympia. As far as I know
they’re a circle unto themselves. I’m sure their birth names are much more
prosaic…Onyx.”
“Hey,
I was an Onyx years before I was a witch,” chuckled the younger woman. “Online
poetry posts in middle school totally count. I don’t care what anyone says.”
Her
hostess laughed. “I’ll take your word for it.”
“With
a pitch like that, everyone always does. No one ever wants to look into the
bleak darkness of my thirteen-year-old heart.” Having felt out of place since
she arrived, Onyx was glad to find someone with some warmth and a sense of
humor. So far, this hadn’t been a social occasion. “I’m not that paranoid about
my identity. Plenty of mundanes know me by Onyx, too. It’s fine.”
“Well,
for the record, you can call me Kate. But those two can keep calling me ‘Ms.
Oakwood.’ They can cross the street so they don’t have to share the same
sidewalk with me, too, for all I care.” She tilted her head thoughtfully.
“You’re with the redhead, right? Leather jacket, mostly in black?”
“Yeah.
Molly. Gotta be around here somewhere. She’s the one who got the invitation,”
Onyx explained. The shift in topics drained the mirth from her voice. “I met
Elizabeth a few times, but that doesn’t feel like it was enough to say we were
friends.”
Kate’s
smile remained, though it turned sad. “Elizabeth wouldn’t have said so.” She
gestured to the others in the gallery. “I’ll grant not everyone here is a
friend. Some came as a formality or out of self-interest. But if we’ve ever had
a community in Seattle, Elizabeth was at the center.”
“Yeah,
we’re not all that plugged in,” Onyx admitted. “Molly met a few other
Practitioners while working in Elizabeth’s shop, but she didn’t make any
serious connections. I don’t know anyone.”
“Most
of the Practitioners here belong to one of a few groups. You could say the same
thing for the city as a whole. We’ve got a couple of pagan Believers from different
circles. Their sanctuaries are outside Seattle proper, as you’d expect. A
couple of guys from my circle are here. You could call us a Native tradition if
you’re really into labels. Jin over there is with a group from the
International District,” she continued, nodding toward an Asian man in a suit
studying one of the many large tomes laid out on one table. “The biggest group
in the city is the Brotherhood of Apollo. A couple of them are here tonight.”
Onyx
lowered her voice to a whisper: “Would they be the stock broker types?”
“That’s
them. They’re recruiting, too. If you’re with a group of any size, like mine or
Jin’s, they won’t get pushy. Loners and smaller circles get the hard sell. Let
me know if they give you a hard time.”
“Thanks.
I appreciate it.”
“Anyway,
you wanted to look over the gargoyle, right?” Kate asked.
“I
did, yeah.” She turned back toward the stone monster. “Little distracted.”
Onyx
raised her ebony wand, holding it sideways and bringing it down in front of the
gargoyle’s face. Rather than speak words of magic, Onyx merely relaxed,
focused, and breathed deeply. She lowered, raised, and lowered her wand once
more. It turned in her fingers to point toward the gargoyle.
Her
eyes widened. She saw faint wisps of dull, darkened colors around the statue.
None of them remained long, nor did they show up as brightly as the natural
aura of a living being. The fact that she saw hints of an aura at all surprised
her. Ordinarily, she could learn much about a person’s nature from reading such
colors and images. Here, she couldn’t keep track of any of the constantly
fading colors long enough to make out much.
Reaching
into a pocket of her coat, Onyx pulled out a single bay leaf. She concentrated
on minute details in the gargoyle’s face: the curl of its snarling lips, the
energy in its eyes, the wrinkles of its furrowed, angry brow. She pointed to
the gargoyle with her wand, murmured in Greek, and then held the bay leaf to
her ear. When she finished the words of the spell, she crumpled up the leaf.
Rather
than giving her the soft sounds of a bit of healthy greenery, it crackled as if
she’d stepped on it during a dry autumn day. Onyx stepped backward with wide
eyes. “Woah.”
“Not
an appealing result, I take it?” asked Kate. She didn’t seem particularly
disturbed by the younger woman’s reaction.
“Yeah.
That’s…really not right.”
“What
do you see?”
“It
looks like a person,” explained Onyx. “Only not. Like it’s got all the
trappings of a soul except…broken. And it’s all so negative. I mean even
complete assholes aren’t this bad.”
“You’re
not wrong. If you want an inanimate object to move and act on its own, that
spark of life has to come from somewhere.”
“Wait,
this thing—there’s a
soul
in there?” Onyx looked back to the statue in
surprise.
“What’s
left of one,” Kate explained. “Elizabeth didn’t know for sure who created it.
She said the gargoyle fell into her possession a few years before she left
Europe for the US. All of her documentation was second or third-hand.
Apparently, this is some pre-Enlightenment prison for somebody whose crimes
were so awful that all the other options weren’t punishment enough. Most
gargoyles are the ordinary statues you see on buildings or whatever, but this
isn’t the only one of its kind.”
“That’s
awful,” said Onyx. “How…how did Elizabeth know she could trust that
documentation? I mean how did she know if whoever’s trapped in here was really
a bad guy at all, let alone deserving this? Everything in there is ugly,
but…how could you
know
?”
Kate
shrugged. “She didn’t. Apparently, she never got the thing to move or speak,
either. She only knew it had the potential. But it’s all that’s left of someone
who died a long time ago,” Kate pointed out. “Elizabeth didn’t know if that
soul was a good person on the wrong side of a bad guy or vice versa. She didn’t
know how to release it, other than destroying the statue. Who’s to say if
that’s a mercy? Once you destroy something, it’s gone.” She smiled faintly. “As
far as I know, one thing magic
can’t
do is turn back the clock. I find
that comforting.”
“Ugh.
Still. I get not letting magical artifacts loose in the world, but carting
something like this all the way over from Europe when you don’t even know how
to use it? Or if it even works at all anymore?” Onyx couldn’t get rid of her
frown. “I’ll suffer for a principle, but this is way past my limits.”
“Ladies
and gentlemen,” called out a man in a suit at the entrance to the gallery’s
second large room. Onyx wondered if Jin was as relaxed as he appeared, or he
was simply good at navigating hazardous waters. “We’re about to start. If you
could join us in the other room, you’ll find your names on the seats arranged
for you.”
“That’s
my cue.” Kate offered Onyx a slight grin and gestured to the gargoyle. “With
any luck, this guy won’t be your problem.” She walked over to the doorway to
join her fellow host, leaving Onyx on her own again.
Though
no one rushed for the doorway, Onyx noticed the shift in tone of conversation
and the body language of the others in the gallery. The guests wouldn’t linger
for long. Onyx left the angry gargoyle to find Molly, idly considering the
appropriate payback for being abandoned at what turned out to be a largely
anti-social event. At that thought, she couldn’t help noting Archimedes and
Hypatia’s location and checking to see if they were looking her way.
Great
,
she thought.
One nasty exchange and now I’m tracking them when I should be
ignoring them. Acting like they don’t matter while I pay close attention in
case of another blow-up. Fucking high school all over again.
Onyx
eventually found her partner in a side room filled with the gallery’s usual
artwork. Molly’s short, spiked, fire-engine red hair made her easy to spot in
any crowd. At the moment, though, she was in a crowd of only two—that being the
“You Can’t Make Me Dress Nice Even for This” crowd. Molly’s perpetual
Goth-casual black pants, band t-shirt, and leather jacket had found a match in
a handsome black man wearing a rugged brown trench coat over a half-buttoned
dress shirt and wife-beater.