Chapter 2

2

ROMAN

" L et me pour that for you, sweetheart."

I sat forward, trying to take the teapot from her soft, loving hands. "Let me do that, Grandma."

She waved me away, pouring the chamomile tea from the smallest teapot in her collection. The blue one with the daisies, the one she used only for me and my favorite tea.

"Don't be silly, Roman," she countered. "I like doing it."

I shuffled in my armchair, plucking a digestive biscuit from the table between us.

She settled back in her chair after pouring herself a coffee. "Ah. This is the life."

A glimpse of the past, a life now long gone.

I remember this day, a part of me lingering on the edges of this dream thought.

"What about this one?" Grandma asked as she picked up her dog-eared crossword book. "Seven down. Ten letters. To merge two sets of information. Ah, yes. Conflation." She filled in the grid with her trusty gold pen.

What I wouldn't give to have this again. Tea and crosswords and Sunday roasts and lazy days together.

Wake up!

"I was thinking about you this morning," my grandma said, plucking two pink wafers from the biscuit tin on the table.

Why didn't her smile reach her eyes?

"About your future," she added. "About your heart."

"My heart?" I touched my chest. She never brought up my childhood surgery nowadays.

In those days. This is not today.

"I know you're lonely, sweetheart. And it worries me a lot."

Whoa. This wasn't a conversation for such a gorgeous autumn day. We were supposed to be gossiping while the smells of her baking wafted in from the kitchen made me drool.

Wake up, now.

But I sipped my tea, determined to stay in this place because she was here. Her smiles, this room of ornaments and trinkets that warmed the deepest parts of my soul. If I stayed here inside this memory, then grief couldn't get me. Her death wouldn't be real, my heart intact.

My heart…

My new heart…

I was safe here. And I wanted lots and lots of safety.

Wake. Up.

"I'm fine," I answered. "You don't have to worry."

"But I do, Roman. You might think I'm speaking out of turn here, but when I look at you, I feel so sad. And I don't know how to make it go away. That's why I was thinking about you meeting a nice boy. Bringing him here for dinner, me sitting back to enjoy the spring in your step. I really, really want to see that spring."

I chuckled to mask the painful truth. I wanted to date, to find myself a nice guy to spend the weekends with. Hug, kiss, enjoy sex with, be his friend, all that stuff. However, my job as The Shadow not only put the brakes on those ideas but tossed them from a speeding car window.

"Have I upset you?" she asked.

"No, Grandma." I sipped more tea, ate another biscuit. "Thanks for worrying about me. But I'm fine. Maybe one day I can bring a guy back here for you to meet."

"I can already see him in my head," she said.

"You can? What does he look like?"

Tall, blond, and demonic!

I almost dropped my tea at the cry of my real self.

The tall, platinum blond demon with blue eyes and pearlescent skin. The one who shifted into various spidery forms. The guy with the abs and the muscles to get my lust spiking and my heart jackhammering. The first man to get under my skin and make me believe in something more than being Queen Margarite's killing dog.

"Xavier," I said out loud.

Grandma didn't notice because she wasn't really here. She carried on talking about seeing me and the guy from the bakery down the road making a handsome couple.

"He's so beautiful, just like my grandson. I can picture him here right now, telling me how wonderful my banana cake is."

"If he even likes banana cake," I countered through a laugh.

"In my world, he does."

I had no idea where her obsession with the baker guy came from, or why she seemed to ship me with him endlessly.

Wake up, for God's sake!

She carried on talking about him, but I broke from the script. "I'm dating someone, Grandma. It's this guy I saved. Yeah. Saved." Tears brimmed in my eyes. I tried to fight them but they broke free, leaving hot tracks down my cheeks. "Oh, God."

If you just wake up, everything will be ? —

"I don't want you to panic when I tell you this," I cut my rational voice off, "but he's a demon. I know, I know. Did I hit my head? The answer is something else hit me. Cupid's arrow or whatever. I don't know. But he's amazing. You'll love him. He's strong and kind and so incredible. I'm falling for him. He's changed my life. He's opened my eyes to new possibilities. I can have a better future, a life worth fighting for because of him. I think I'm?—"

"I'm thinking of making a beef suet pie for Sunday lunch," she said, not hearing me. "What do you think?"

Somewhere in time, I answered that beef suet pie sounded great. But here, I said, "If only he could taste your banana bread."

The tears burned hot as they ran free.

Wake up!

I wiped at my eyes with the sleeve of my jumper. "Oh, Grandma."

"Have another biscuit, sweetheart."

"I have to wake up now," I responded. "I have to go back to him. And to my best friend. They need me. There's…" I frowned, a different memory flaring in the back of my skull. "They're in danger."

"I said to Rose I couldn't go to the craft club on Friday…"

My frown deepened as I focused hard on the rising images of my present.

The frozen beach. The device in my chest exploding to bring about the end of magic as Butterfly wanted, tainted by Una's fairy magic to give it a weird twist. The demon monarchs climbing out of the frozen lake of Level 666. Me killing Margarite, only for her to get back up again. Some fucker smacking me with a baseball bat.

"Danger," I whispered. "Xavier and Darcy are in danger."

It all fell into place. Somehow, I'd vanished from the demon realm, transported to the queen's side. Had it been because of me thinking, Give me Margarite any day!

Oh, God. Seriously? Had I been given me some sort of ability to wish for things?

"Think about it later," I grumbled.

Right now, I needed out of this, to get my fighting head back on.

My stomach tightened at the thought of all those monarchs, of the hate on Ismael's face. Xavier's ex demon-king lover was out for blood, but he wouldn't be having Xavier. Oh, hell no. The demon and my bestie would be with me again.

Okay. Think, think, think. How did I wake up? Could I wake up by demanding it happen, or even asking for the frozen beach?

My temples throbbed.

"I heard he likes football." Grandma kept talking, trying to sell the baker to me.

"Wake up," I said, testing the waters of my possible new ability. "Wake up and go back to the frozen beach."

Nothing happened.

"I demand to be awake."

Nope. Nothing.

"I want Xavier and Darcy. Now. Give them to me."

Another round of nothing.

Maybe I had to be awake for it to work. Which was all well and good, but I felt anchored here with no sign of an exit.

Shit.

I got up, inspecting the familiar surroundings of her living room. The ornaments, the mahogany furniture, the salmon pink chairs and sofa, the cream-and-pink wallpaper, the photographs of our little holidays over the years. I picked up a picture of us on the pebble beach in Brighton.

Looking at the picture only made me want to stay here forever.

"Not helpful," I grumbled.

I put the photo back, clenching my fists. Man, I couldn't wait to meet the one with the baseball bat again so I could kick their arse into next week.

"I told her to pop over for the recipe," Grandma continued. "Caramel can be tricky…"

A sharp pain attacked the back of my skull, the room flashing around me. On and off it went as if a kid were playing with a light switch, showing me glimpses of a dark place. I couldn't quite make it out, but there were others there. I felt their breath on my face.

What the hell?

I staggered forward, steadying myself against the wall. The pain in my head didn't let up, getting worse by the second.

"Fucking hell…" I muttered.

"I must remember to get apples for the crumble tomorrow," Grandma said.

I hunched as the throbbing rolled through my entire skull, attacking the roots of my teeth. The room flickered with each pulse of agony, a face close to mine, waving something smelly in my face. I was… What? Sitting up? Huh?

"Ten… I will… Supposed to rain…" Grandma's words came at me randomly, crackling with static energy.

Fading.

Breaking.

Leaving me.

"He's coming to." A gruff voice assaulted my ears.

My stomach twisted from the rising pain. I slid to the floor, landing hard on my knees. Cracks spread out from beneath me, splitting the carpet, running up the walls.

Ammonia in my nostrils.

"Slap him."

"Not yet."

Harsh voices. A dripping tap. Damp. Cold. My wrists hurting, something too tight around them.

More wafts of ammonia, darkness bleeding over the colors of the living room. Those cracks widened, tearing through everything. The room tremored, the furniture taking a tumble. Ornaments shattered. The windows imploded. Invisible claws tore chunks out of the walls, some of the ceiling caving in.

Oh, God. Oh, God.

I scrambled to my feet to protect my grandma. But she picked up her crossword book again as the room collapsed around her. Oblivious, living in the dream, so far removed from all of this.

It's not really happening…

I groaned somewhere in the distance, those gruff voices spewing more shit I couldn't make out.

Fuckers. I'd kill the fuckers.

Grandma looked up, chewing on the tip of her pen in thought. Her face contorted, melting like hot wax.

Sorrow hit me like a bulldozer. Real or not, it didn't change the curdling in my guts, and the sudden spike of grief. I fell to my knees again, overcome with sadness.

"Please…" I tried, my eyes hot. "Please don't… Please don't…"

I'd watched her draw her last breath, her light stolen from my life. I couldn't take this. I couldn't watch her melt.

"Come on, you bastard. Wake up!" a man shouted.

Ammonia, thick and invading. The warmth of the room gone, cold licking across my skin.

Grandma's features were gone now, globules of wax dripping down her body.

I closed my eyes, throwing up steel walls. "No. I won't watch. I won't?—"

A sharp gasp and my eyes shot open, my chest on fire.

"About time!" A man complained, spraying spittle in my face.

Someone laughed.

It took me several beats to come to a competent level of awareness under a weak spotlight above my head. Every inch of my head pounded, my throat as dry as sand. I licked my cracked lips, desperate for water and some headache pills. Small waves of nausea rolled through me.

Man, this sucked.

"Get him some water," Spittle Guy ordered. My eyes adjusted to his bearded face. Scars cut across his sun-burned red complexion, while dark eyes scrutinized me.

"Why?" another guy asked.

"Because I said so."

A tear in my jeans revealed part of my skin glittering like the gold dust falling in this room. I was still sparkling.

"Whatever." The huffy guy stomped off.

A bit more with it now, I scanned my surroundings. It was dirty, some kind of abandoned warehouse with lots of pipes and a metal stairway on my left leading to a door. Two more big doors were on my right, their windows boarded up. Shafts of moonlight spilled through a broken skylight, the night sky clear and full of stars. Butterfly's dust fell through that aperture, making a pretty carpet on the floor.

There were five people around me from what I could make out.

"What…" I tried, traces of ammonia still burning in my nose.

Did they wake me up with smelling salts?

"No damage was done to your head," Spittle Guy said. "Must have a skull of fucking iron." He chuckled.

Yeah, tee-fucking-hee. Excuse me while I piss myself.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

That wasn't him. I jumped out of my skin, only now noticing Margarite standing slightly behind me. I turned to look at her. Her bronze skin glittered the same as mine, her eyes a vibrant gold.

I'd stabbed her eyes out, driven my blade into her stomach…

Fuck.

"How are you feeling?" she repeated, her arms straight beside her. "What can I do for you?"

She was supposed to be dead. But she stood there in black casual clothes, her long gray hair tied into a French plait. No longer the UK's witch queen, and possibly awaiting my orders.

What the fuck?

"Not good," I answered, my voice scratchy.

Spittle Guy leaned in closer, his breath a toxic sewer. "She won't leave your side."

I kept my mouth shut.

"Did you do this to her, Shadow? Did you end magic and hurt Her Majesty?"

They'd been breaking her out of whatever place she'd been held in after her daughter, Piper, got her removed from power, taking over the throne.

Man, so many people wanted war, onboard with Margarite's hateful rhetoric.

What a bunch of bloodthirsty beasts.

I winced from the pain in my head, not giving the prick an answer.

"Don't worry, we'll get it out of you." He chuckled, baring his teeth. "Fuck with our queen, we fuck with you."

Yeah, I wouldn't be sticking around to find out what that entailed.

Now I was awake, temporarily putting my sorrow to bed, I could put my new skills to the test.

"Here's that water," the other guy declared as he returned.

Being careful and clear with my words, I thought, Take me to Xavier .

Spittle Guy went to say something then froze, his eyes widening in surprise.

"Boss?" the water guy said.

The spittle-spraying prick grabbed his chest, blood leaking from his mouth. Within a few seconds, he dropped down dead.

"Boss!"

I puffed into glittering gold particles, soaring out of the warehouse's skylight and raced through the air at breakneck speed, probably breaking some world records.

"Roman!" the queen bellowed from beside me.

Had she tagged along?

Before I knew it, I puffed back together in freezing winds, appearing on an island of ice. Xavier tore across it, coming straight at me with Darcy on his back, an army of demon monarchs hot on his heels.

Oh. Shit.