Shadow's End Read Free Page B

a brutal day at work, and a professional decorator had made sure the furniture was good and the colors didn’t suck.
    He had laundry service, housekeeping service, and the Tower cafeteria kept his fridge fully stocked with excellent cooked meals, freshly made, whole grain sandwiches stuffed with meats and cheese, and his favorite kind of beer.
    It was a fine enough place, a good enough place, most of the time.
    â€œThis is my home,” he whispered through clenched teeth. He could hear the desperation in his own voice. “This is where I belong. I will keep all of my promises. I will hold true.”
    Right now the apartment felt like a cage. He thought about smashing his fist into the plate-glass window, just to see it shatter and to feel the wild wind rush in.
    He closed his eyes. Swiftly like a predator, the vision of his death struck. This time it would not be denied.
    The white ground, black rocks, and red drops of his heart’s blood growing on the ground like blooming roses. He lost himself in the sensation of liquid warmth flowing between his fingers.
    When he could finally see again, he found himselfkneeling on the floor, shoulders hunched. That damned scene hung like an albatross around his neck, until he almost wished it would go ahead and happen, just so that he could get it the fuck over with.
    He had carried that albatross for almost two hundred damn years—exactly from the moment when he had responded to a damsel in distress and had embroiled himself in another man’s curse.
    And wasn’t that too much to swallow as a coinkydink.
    It was all connected. He knew it.
    Stiffly, he forced himself to his feet, walked to a cupboard and pulled out a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue. After taking several deep pulls from the bottle, he scrolled quickly through the contacts on his phone until he found the right one.
    He punched the call button.
    Despite the late hour, the person on the other line answered almost immediately. “Hello?”
    The feminine voice sounded cautious and guarded. In the background, he could hear sounds of Elven music, quick moving and passionate.
    â€œLinwe,” he said. He didn’t bother to introduce himself. Linwe knew very well who had called her, even if she refused to say his name aloud.
    Over the connection, he heard quick, light footsteps, and the music faded. His mind constructed an image from the sounds. She was walking out of the great hall in the Elven home.
    â€œWhat do you want?” Linwe asked.
    He drank scotch. “She doesn’t answer my phone calls or texts.”
    â€œShe doesn’t answer anybody’s phone calls or texts.” The young Elven woman kept her voice low. “She doesn’t carry her phone anymore, not since . . . not since what happened in March.”
    He held his phone tightly. “How is she?”
    â€œShe’s recovering, like everybody else in the Elven demesne. Look, I shouldn’t talk to you about her, or tell you things. It doesn’t feel right. You need to stop calling me.”
    â€œYou’re right,” he said. “I do need to stop.”
    When he closed his eyes, he saw the colors. White, and black, and red like roses. Those colors looked a lot like destiny.
    â€œIt’s nothing personal,” Linwe said, her voice softened. “You saved her life. All of us are grateful to you for what you did.”
    â€œTell her I’m coming,” Graydon said, keeping his voice as soft as Linwe’s. Soft, courteous and inexorable. “I’ll be there by morning. She and I have things to discuss.”
    And a demon to exorcise once and for all.
    Her indrawn breath was audible. “I absolutely will not. She’s gone to bed, and I’m going soon too. Graydon, you can’t come into the Elven demesne without permission.”
    â€œFine,” he said. “Just whatever you do, don’t tell Ferion.”
    He hung up, turned off his phone and went