Free The Bloodshade Encounters & The Songspinner (Shadeborn Book 2) by K.C. Finn

have come to a decision about you,” Lemarick began with a snarl. “I am going to let you live.”
    Now was not the moment to admit it aloud, but Baptiste was right about Lemarick’s guilt for his situation. The dead eyes of that hunter had haunted Lemarick for years after he failed to save the human Baptiste. Sparing the vampire form of his life wasn’t quite the same thing, but it was as close as Lemarick could come to righting that particular wrong in his past.
    “But hear this,” Lemarick continued, closing in so he was hovering above the hunter’s face, the heel of his boot pressing at Baptiste’s neck.
    “You will live to tell the tale of what happened here,” the shade explained, “and you will tell every last one of your kind about the man they call Novel. My name is destruction to you all, from this moment forth. Do we have an agreement?”
    Lemarick let Baptiste rise and the hunter rubbed his throat until speech returned.
    “We do, Monsieur,” he replied.
    Baptiste Du Nord rose in a sudden, hazy cloud of darkness. Seconds later the sound of swooping wings overhead signalled his departure. Lemarick watched the bat fly away in the starlight as he felt a new surge of power rising in his blood. Ed and Ugarte came to join him at his side of the roof.
    “You buried my instruments, you scoundrel,” Ed said, clapping his friend on the shoulder.
    Lemarick waved a hand. “I’ll help you rebuild them,” he replied. “I have some ideas for considerable improvements to the design.”
    Ugarte suddenly gave a gasp, her hand rising to cover her mouth.
    “Lemarick,” she breathed, “Your hair.”
    His hands flew into his locks and pushed the longest strands forwards, feeling around for some sort of difference.
    “What about it?” he demanded.
    Ed gave him a proper look-over, letting out a laughing kind of sigh.
    “It’s bright white, old chap,” he chuckled. “You’re finally showing your age.”
    “White?” Lemarick asked, horrified and feeling his scalp all over again.
    Ugarte gave him a thoughtful look.
    “I think you’ve found your glamour,” she surmised. “Mother will be pleased.”

PIKETON, the present day
     
    Teeth
     
    Lily stood at the precipice to the theatre’s catacombs, peering down the stone staircase into the unfathomable depths below. She turned to Lawrence with a quirked brow, chewing on her lip a little.
    “You’re sure they went down here?” she asked him once again.
    The voodoo boy rolled his dark eyes. “About five minutes ago,” he assured her, “I think it’s the monthly foundation check.”
    As her eyes adjusted to the darkness at the foot of the staircase, she saw the opening of several passageways below. Lily began to point, but a shout from behind her caused both she and Lawrence to crane their heads. Poppa Seward was only just visible in the hallway behind the giant box he was trying to shift.
    “Poppa!” Lawrence began to chide, but the old man shook his head.
    “No, no, I’m fine,” he replied with great strain. “You go on chatting while your father gives himself a heart attack moving boxes for the girl you fancy.”
    Lawrence’s hollow cheeks flushed darkly, his eyes flickering between his father’s struggling form and Lily’s sudden, impish grin. He flung out his hand towards the dark entrance to the tunnels.
    “Take the first one to the left and keep going down,” he explained. “Look, I have to go. The old dog’s going to do himself a mischief otherwise.”
    “I heard that!” Poppa squawked from behind the box.
    In moments they were gone and Lily was left alone to descend the dark stairs. Concentrating for a moment, she let a small ball of flames materialise in the palm of her left hand, holding it up like a torch to guide her into the shadowy underground of the theatre. As she began the descent, the cold hand of fear threatened to send a shockwave up her spine, but she resisted its icy fingertips. This was the Imaginique – her new home