The Shadow Prince
Page 78

Joe moans and clutches at his chest, and starts to convulse as if having a seizure. I know better. The Keres is draining the life out of him.
“No,” Daphne says, throwing the keys right back at me. “Joe!” She runs toward her father, but the shadow swirls around him, wrapping him in a transparent black cocoon. “What’s happening?!”
A surge of lightning builds in my chest, but I don’t know what to do with it. What if I throw it at the Keres, and it merely passes through it and strikes Joe? That would kill him faster than the evil bloodsucker that has him in its clutches. Blue light webs between my fingers, and then engulfs my hand and arm. I can feel it burning the fabric of my shirtsleeve off my arm. It will incinerate my skin next, if I don’t throw it soon. I look up at the street lamp above Joe. I pour all my concentration into shaping the crackling wisps of lightning into a blue sphere.
“Get back!” I shout at Daphne.
She looks at me. Her eyes widen as she takes in the ball of lightning I cradle in my hand. I am breaking another one of the steadfast Champion rules by letting her see me this way. I have no choice but to expose my powers in front of her, I tell myself. Either that, or let her watch her father die.
“Haden, what …?”
“Get out of the way.”
She twists out of the way, and I fling the lightning at the street lamp. An explosion of light and glass follows. The Keres sends a screeching, shrieking wail into the night, but it doesn’t flee like it did before when Lexie was the victim.
Has it already figured out that it doesn’t have to be afraid of my lightning?
The Keres forces Joe to the ground. He wails in pain, calling Daphne’s name. Another bolt of lightning works its way through my body. Do I dare take a shot directly at the beast?
Daphne steps in front of me. She plants her feet—staring down at the shadow creature—and screams.
Not out of fear. Not out of anger. But in a determined, deliberate way, focusing her voice right at the black, writhing cocoon. The force of it reminds me of the stories of banshees I heard as a child. The timbre and tone match the horrible, screeching wail that comes from the Keres. The shadow unwinds from Joe, and for a few seconds, the Keres becomes solid, looking like a statue of a monstrous, black, stone angel. Its giant wings bristle, its claws outstretch, its terrible, jagged teeth protrude from its jaws. It flings itself at Daphne, becoming shadow once more.
“Scream again!” I shout at Daphne.
She throws her hands out in front of her defensively and shrieks.
The sound rips the air and the Keres takes solid form again. I can see its terrible claws swipe toward her chest, ready to tear her heart out from behind her ribs.
I fling a bolt of lightning at its abdomen. The electricity catches it midflight and forces it against the lamppost. The Keres explodes into a thousand pieces, raining shards of stone on top of us. Daphne throws her hands over her head. Joe lies as still as death as bits of Keres fall onto his back.
Daphne hasn’t looked at me since I killed the Keres. I wish she’d look at me. She’s crouched over Joe, kneeling in the debris of broken glass and fragments of stone. She presses her fingers against his neck, and then holds them in front of his mouth.
“He’s okay,” she says softly. “I think he’s just fainted.”
I don’t say anything in response. I am too afraid to. Not until I see how she sees me now.
Now that she has seen what I can do.
Now that she knows I am not human.
Why doesn’t she look at me?
Daphne slowly rises, brushing Keres dust from her arms with her perfect, calloused fingers. Her hair drapes like a golden curtain in front of her face. She can probably see me, but I can’t see her.
“You killed it.” Her voice shakes, but I can’t tell if it’s out of fear or relief. “You killed that thing …” She takes a step closer. “… with lightning …” Another step. “… that came out of your hands.” Two more steps. “I saw it.” She is only inches from me now. “So don’t you dare try to deny it.”
“I won’t,” I say, wishing more than anything I could see her eyes.
“Good,” she says, closing three of the six inches that still remain between us. “Then you will know what this is for.”
Before I can react, Daphne attacks me. She lunges forward, crossing the last three inches of space between us. Her hands wrap around my neck, and she yanks my head forward against hers. I tense, expecting to be bashed in the face with her forehead, but instead, her warm lips close over mine. Her fingers slip into my hair, and shooting, tingling pain spreads through my skin wherever she touches me.
Panic overtakes my body. I feel my eyes go wide. I try to raise my hands to thrust her away. Is she trying to steal my breath? My soul?
There are stories of creatures that can do so, I am sure.
But it isn’t pain running through my body. It’s pleasure. Warm, radiating tendrils of it, curling through me under her touch. Her caress. It feels just as I imagined it would when she sang.
She presses harder with her lips, imploring mine.
I yield.
I melt.
I surrender.
My arms raise now, closing around her, pressing her closer against me. My lips give in to hers, parting, wanting, giving, beckoning for more in return.
Electric heat swirls inside my chest and shoots through my entire body. I pull away from Daphne just as a blue spark passes from my lips to hers.
She places her fingers on her lips, but I can tell she’s smiling.
“What … what was that for?” I ask, dragging in a deep breath, trying to calm the fiery nerves in my body.
Daphne tries to laugh, but it sounds like she’s out of breath also. She sweeps her hair away from her face. She smiles and her eyes fill with a bright happiness I haven’t seen in her before. “For saving my life. And Joe’s.”
She steps closer again, and I brace myself, hoping to Hades she will press her lips against mine again—wondering how she will respond if I do it to her before she gets the chance.
“For being honest with me,” she says. Her hands clasp my arms and she stares into my eyes. I can’t help but flex under her fingers. I want her to feel how strong I am. She laughs, and I know she’s on to me. Her fingers slide up and down my upper arms. Her touch feels so soothing over the scars in my right arm—my skin left uncovered when my lightning burned my sleeve away. Like I didn’t know just how badly the scars pained me until her mere touch made that pain lessen.