Free Shadowbound by Dianne Sylvan

had been creeping up on her against her knowledge or will.
    She had let it go too long. Another night and her shields might have collapsed, her sanity falling with them—and this time it might not come back.
    She stared at the body for a minute. I hope the money was worth it. Better luck next time.
    Breathing deeply, she looked over at her husband, who gave the corpse a faintly disgusted look and waved his hand over it dismissively to banish it.
    He saw her watching and inclined his head toward the nearby Dumpster. “We’re going to have to think of a better place to put them,” he said. “One or two will probably pass unnoticed, but two every month increases the odds of someone seeing a body in the trash.”
    He spoke so casually, as if it were any of his myriad logistical operations and just another problem to solve.
    Miranda pulled her sweaty hair back from her face and held it with her hands for a minute. “This is our life now,” she said quietly.
    He came to her, held her close. “We’ll make this work,” he said. “I think . . . I think it will come again every new moon.”
    “How do you know that?”
    “I can feel it,” he replied with a sigh. “And I don’t think we should wait until we’re losing our minds next time—we pushed it too far. Technically the new moon was yesterday afternoon; if we’d given in last night we could have avoided this misery. We don’t have to get to that point, if we just . . .”
    “Kill people,” she finished for him. “Every month for the rest of our lives.”
    He didn’t try to justify it, or make it less awful, which she appreciated, even though she knew he was far more okay with it than she was. Three hundred fifty years did offer a certain perspective that she, still young enough to be alive by human reckoning, still lacked.
    She knew there had been a time when he’d taken human life as wantonly as many vampires did. Most of them realized over time that it was unnecessary and would lead to discovery and death at the hands of Hunters, but a few kept going until they were taken down either by the Hunters themselves or the Signets. In “civilized” vampire society, killing humans was looked at as a silly phase the young went through that wasn’t sustainable for the Shadow World as a whole. Most of the Signets who had no-kill laws did so not because of a love for humanity but because they didn’t want Hunters infesting their territories.
    “I guess it’s a good thing we’re above our own law,” she said tiredly. She didn’t feel guilty . . . at least not yet. She was in a strange emotional place that was sort of like shock, except not numb— detached , more like. She felt detached from what she had done. Was that how it was supposed to work? Did becoming a killer mean she would no longer care? Was she condemned to devolve into a sociopath?
    David seemed to sense her confusion and paused, kissing her forehead and telling her, “We both know you’re never going to become a mindless killer, Miranda. You’re not capable of not caring. That detachment you’re feeling may keep you sane until you can make peace with this.”
    She stopped and stared at him. “I got off on it, David. Where am I supposed to find peace in that?”
    He didn’t have an answer for her.
    They started walking again, and he let out a breath and returned to the previous subject. “I can talk to Maguire about finding prisoners—Texas does love its capital punishment, and death row is always a busy place.”
    They had, at last, reached the car, and he waved Harlan away so the driver wouldn’t have to come around the limo—a much bigger pain than circling the Lincoln—and opened the door himself, settling Miranda into the seat as if she were an invalid. She didn’t complain; it felt good to be fussed over, to be treated like a treasure instead of . . .
    She closed her eyes. Don’t think about it yet. Let it be until you’ve rested. Just let it be.
    Miranda curled up