The Forest of Shadow and Bones Read online

  She slides her fingers up the arch of her blood-stained neck and across the two pinpoint marks branding her skin. She winces, and then silence stretches between us as a series of emotions flash across her face, going from shocked to afraid to confused to … curious?

  The last one leaves me scratching my head.

  She lowers her hand from her neck. “I didn’t think … I didn’t know …” Her voice trembles. “What am I?”

  Well, that explains the curiosity in her eyes.

  I tilt my head to the side, studying her legs, arms, and neck, looking for a mark on her flesh that would reveal exactly what group she belongs to. “You don’t know?”

  She shakes her head, strands of her brown hair falling into her face. “I’ve never figured it out. All I know is that, ever since I was about seven, ghosts have been popping into my life and asking me for help.”

  My gaze flicks up and down her body again; along her legs, her arms, the sliver of cleavage peering out of her dress. “Do you … have a tattoo or anything on your body?”

  Her forehead furrows. “No … Why?”

  “Nothing,” I sigh out. Of course she doesn’t have a mark. It couldn’t be that easy, could it? “Never mind.”

  She meticulously eyes me over then kneels in front of me. “Look, you’re the first coherent ghost I’ve ever met. Most of them don’t even know they’re dead.” She motions at the exit door behind us. “And you knew what those people in that club were, so whatever you know about me, just please, please tell me.” She waits, her eyes silently pleading with me to give her the answer.

  I want to have an answer for her—God, I wish I fucking did. I remember when I got my unusually uncommon mark and how, at first, no one seemed to know what it was and left me questioning if maybe I belonged to an evil group.

  But since the Shadow Reaper never explained to me what Sway is, I can’t help her. At least, not yet.

  “I’m sorry,” I say remorsefully. “I really don’t know much about your gift. I mean, there are things like necromancers, people who can raise the dead. And sometimes, psychics speak to the dead. But I don’t know of anything that can see and speak to ghosts as if they’re human and vice versa for the ghosts.”

  Her mouth curves down into a disappointed frown. “Oh, okay.” Tears pool in her eyes.

  Shit.

  “Don’t cry.” I squirm uncomfortably. “Look, I don’t do well with the whole crying thing, so tell me what I can do to fix it.”

  “I’m sorry.” She dabs the tears from her eyes, but more stream out. “This isn’t your fault. I’ve just felt so lost for most of my life, and I always thought that, if maybe I knew what I was, I wouldn’t feel so lost, you know?”

  “I do know,” I say in all honesty. Sitting down on the floor in front of her, I take her hand, the movement seeming strangely comfortable for two people who just met. “I don’t know what you are, but I know someone who might be able to help us.”

  Her fingers stiffen in mine, but she doesn’t pull away. “Really?”

  I nod. “I know a lot of people who know a lot about a lot of things.”

  “You sound like a mobster or something.” She assesses me closely. “What are you?”

  “You really want to know?” I ask, and she bobs her head up and down. “All right, then. Just prepare yourself.” I reach for the hem of my shirt to lift it up.

  She looks away, her cheeks flushing. “Dude, I didn’t mean for you to take off your clothes and show me.”

  I press my lips together, resisting a laugh. Okay, I was never one for shy girls. At least, I used to not be. But now, I don’t know. I kind of find her shyness adorable.

  “I’m not taking off my clothes. Although, this might be more fun that way.”

  Taking a deep breath, she returns her attention to me. Her gaze briefly flickers to the bottom of my shirt where my fingers are resting, and a flush erupts across her cheeks again.

  “Then what’re you doing?”

  “Showing you what I am.” I raise my shirt, so she gets a full view of the incandescent flames tattooing my rib cage. I trace my finger along the inked lines, making the flames shift and shape into a compass encircled by arrows—the Guardian mark. With another brush of my fingers, the lines reform into a shapeshifter mark. “Every species, like vampire, fey, witch, have their own mark.” Another brush of my fingers across my ribs, another shifting of the lines. “These are some of the marks, but not all of them.”

  “Holy shit,” she breathes. “That’s the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  The awe in her eyes surprises me. I thought she’d be more startled.

  “I guess cool’s one word for it. Sometimes, it can be a pain in the ass. Well, not so much the mark, but my power linked to it.”

  “What power do you have?” she asks, enthralled.

  “Well, I’m not really one single thing exactly, but kind of a mixture, so when I was alive, I had a lot of powers linked to different creatures, which has its perks. But it can also be a pain in the ass.”

  She chews on her bottom lip, her gaze glued to the mark. “So, if you’re a bunch of different things, does that mean you have vampire in you? And that you want to … bite me?”

  I swiftly shake my head. “No. The only vampire power I have is their hearing.”

  Tentativeness crosses her expression as her gaze welds with mine. “Can I …? Can I touch it? I mean, your mark?”

  Good God, is she kidding me right now? Fuck yeah, she can touch it.

  Not wanting to spook her by being overly excited, I attempt to give a more casual response.

  I shrug. “Sure. Why not?”

  Mesmerized, she reaches forward and lightly skims her fingertips across the mark. My muscles flex as the vivid lines erupt and spread across my skin, forming a crescent moon.

  A soft gasp slips from her mouth. “It’s so pretty.”

  “That’s the witches’ mark,” I explain, fighting back the shivers wanting to burst through me.

  She sketches her fingers along the colorful lines, and I damn near explode.

  “Your skin’s so soft.” Her cheeks flush at her remark, and she quickly withdraws her hand. Then her nose crinkles as she mulls something over. “I’m guessing my kind don’t have a mark, though, since I don’t have one.”

  “I don’t know. Usually, marks appear before the powers start manifesting, but that’s not always the case.” I lower my shirt, covering up the mark. “If I knew more about your kind, I might have more answers.”

  “You said you know someone who might know what I am?” She peers up at me through her eyelashes. “Can you take me to see this person?”

  While I do know someone who can help us—the same person who helped me figure out what I am—I’m not here to help her. Not that I don’t want to, but I don’t have the time.

  I want to tell her the truth of why I’m really here. I’ve never been much for lying or sugarcoating shit. But I don’t know if now is the best time for that.

  Then again, I’m not even sure how Sway is supposed to help me get to the forest, so knowing more about her might help me figure that out.

  Damn, what I need is a quick way to find out what she is.

  “I have an idea.” I rise to my feet and stretch my hand toward her. “But we need to make this quick.” I just hope we have the time, that I don’t drop dead before we even get to the forest.

  She blinks up at me. “We’re doing it right now?”

  I gesture for her to take my hand again. “I’m kind of running low on time.”

  She eyeballs the exit door behind me and then my hand. “Okay …” She starts to reach for me, but then hesitates. “Dash, how did you die?”

  “It’s kind of a long story, and I’d rather not bore you with the details.”

  “Oh.” Her face crinkles in confusion.

  The look throws me off. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s nothing.” She sighs heavily. “It’s just that, normally when a ghost to
uches me, I see their death. But with you, that doesn’t happen.”

  I debate what to tell her, whether to tiptoe around the truth or not. I wasn’t planning on telling her yet, but … You know what? Fuck it. Lying only leads to trouble, anyway.

  “That’s because I’m technically not dead yet,” I say.

  She bites down on her bottom lip again. Damn, I wish she’d stop doing that. It’s driving me mad in a really good, confusing way.

  “Um, yeah, I hate to break it to you, but you kind of are,” she says. “Trust me.”

  “I do trust you. But trust me; I’m technically not alive or dead. I’m in limbo, between life and death. My spirit hasn’t crossed over yet.”

  “How does that even happen?”

  “I’m not sure, but I need your help finding a way out of it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, I’m really low on time.” I wiggle my fingers, urging her to take my hand. “So, if we could skip this part for now, that would be super fantastic.”

  Reluctantly, she starts to reach for my hand, but then her eyes snap wide, and she jerks back. “Wait. My friend Eve was in the Black Dungeon with me!” She jumps to her feet yet moves too fast and staggers sideways.

  I slip my arm around her waist, steadying her. “Easy. You lost a lot of blood.”

  She grips my arm to keep her balance, her fingernails digging into my flesh. “I need to get my friend out of that horrible place before it’s too late.” Her voice lowers to a whisper. “What if they already killed her?” She glances around, as if searching for her friend’s ghost.

  “Your friend’s fine.” My heart pounds from the feel of her fingers on my arm. God, this over-zealous reaction to her touch is getting more confusing by the second. Not that I hate it. Rather, I might enjoy it a little too much. “She ran out of the club while the vampires were attacking you.”

  “She left me there?” Hurt fills her eyes. “Why would she do that?”

  “I’m sure it was the drugs in the smoke,” I say, even though I’m not so sure.

  Humans are funny like that. Some are all about being a hero, while others have a save-yourself reaction to horrible situations.

  Her brows dip. “I’m not sure it was just the drugs in the smoke. She was acting so weird in the cab, like she was drunk, but I don’t think she was.”

  “She wasn’t. The cab driver was a fey. That’s why you ended up at the Black Dungeon. There’s also a shadowy figure following you around and blocking me from getting to you. I’m not sure what it is, but I have a feeling it might have some sort of power of influence or something.”

  Her body quivers as she peers up at me. “You can see those, too?”

  “Yeah.” My brows pull together. “You can see them?”

  She unsteadily nods, fear flashing in her eyes. “I have for a while. Ever since …” A shudder rolls through her.

  “Ever since what?” I press, tightening my grip on her.

  It’s like a light switch turns off; all of her emotions vanish at once. “Nothing. Never mind.”

  I examine her closely. What is she hiding? Better yet, why do I seem to care so much? Shouldn’t I be worrying about saving my sorry ass from eternal death? You would think so, but for some reason, most of my worry resides on Sway.

  Just who is this girl? And why does she seem to have so much power over me?

  Eight

  Sway

  He’s looking at me like he’s reading right through my bullshit and seeing straight into my soul. I swear he knows it’s broken, and it has been ever since high school graduation when I first came across a shadowy figure. I’ve crossed paths with a few of them since then. They always bring the most dreadful sense of evil with them.

  I can tell Dash wants me to divulge what I know, but I haven’t even told Eve about that night. There’s no way I’m about to confess my darkest secret to a stranger, a ghost stranger for that matter.

  Then again, he said he had all sorts of powers. Maybe he can read my mind and see the answer himself.

  Clearing my throat, I step away from him and change the subject. “So, yeah, let me call Eve and make sure she’s okay, and then we can go.”

  “We’re not going anywhere.” Dash goes from intense to nonchalant in two seconds flat, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

  My brows furrow. “Then how are we supposed to find out what I am?”

  A cocky grin teases at his lips. “With my ever-so-awesome skills.”

  “Okay …” Anxiety bubbles inside me.

  While I’m eager to find out what I am, I feel slightly uneasy about getting help from a ghost. And a magical ghost at that. With everything he just told me, it feels like I should be freaking out. Seriously, what kind of a person is calm after just getting told that vampires, witches, and faeries exist?

  The kind of person who’s been talking to dead people for years. The kind of person who just got bitten by a vampire. A person who sees shadowy figures.

  Okay, maybe my reaction kind of makes sense.

  Pulling my mind away from my self-analyzing thoughts, I dig my phone out of my jacket pocket and dial Eve’s number.

  “Hey, girlie!” she answers after three rings. “I was just about to call you.”

  “We must’ve read each other’s minds,” I joke with a forced laugh. The movement makes my neck ache, and I cover the area with my hand, cringing at the feeling of crusty blood covering my skin. “Where are you?”

  “At home,” she says with a duh tone. “I already told you I was too sick to go out tonight.”

  I pace in front of the stairs. What is she talking about?

  “You never said that. And we were out tonight, but then we got separated.”

  “No, I’ve been home all night.” She gives a long pause. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay? You sound kind of funny. Are you high? Because I’ve told you not to do that shit. You get so weird every time you’re stoned.”

  “I …” I glance at Dash in confusion, then cover the phone with my hand. “She says she’s been home all night. What’s wrong with her? Why can’t she remember going out with me?”

  Dash motions for me to come closer. “Let me listen to her while you talk.”

  “What should I say?”

  “Just ask her if she’s okay.”

  I inch closer and puts the phone between our heads. “Are you feeling okay?”

  “Yep, I sure am,” Eve replies in a cheery voice.

  “Now ask her if by chance she talked to anyone earlier,” Dash says. “Like today or tonight that she hasn’t talked to before? Like, say a woman who goes by the name of Vivianne?”

  I repeat what he says even though I don't have a clue who Vivianne is. When Eve replies that she has, Dash’s face turns as pale as a ghost... Well, you get the picture.

  “Tell her no more talking to strangers,” Dash tells me. “And make sure to stress the importance.”

  “Okay…” I’m so lost but do as he instructed. Then I say good-bye to Eva and hang up, noting the fear in Dash’s eyes has been replaced by irritation.

  “So, we have a little bit of a problem on our hands,” he announces before I can ask him what’s up.

  I stuff my phone into my pocket. “What?”

  He heaves a dramatic sigh. “It might be time for me to explain how I kind of, sort of died.”

  “Okay.” Why does he seem so nervous? What is he about to tell me? “How bad is it? Because you look really worried, and it’s making me nervous.” I chew on my thumbnail. “Eve’s all right, isn’t she?”

  He nods. “Well, she will be after I have someone put a protection spell on her.”

  “Protection from what?”

  “From the woman who killed me.”

  A shaky breath flees my lips. “You were murdered?”

  He contemplates something with a trace of confliction. “Not necessarily murdered. More like … forced to die.”

  Confusion laces my every thought. “How
can someone force you to die?”

  “Magic,” he replies with a simple shrug. “There’s a spell in the fey world called a linea vitam. And, if you get one put on you, you’re bound to the person who cast the spell. If you don’t do everything they demand of you, you die.

  “When I was about fourteen, my father made a deal with a fey woman named Vivianne. She gave him something he wanted, and in exchange, he let her put a linea vitam on me.”

  I swallow hard. And I thought my neglectful parents were bad.

  “That’s horrible.”

  He gives a blasé half-shrug, but pain resides in his eyes. “That’s just how my father is.”

  “Well, it’s still horrible. Trading your son’s freedom for … What did he trade it for?”

  “Don’t know. Don’t care.” He shifts his weight, seeming uncomfortable. “But this is all beside the point. My point is, Vivianne is hell-bent on making me pay for breaking the linea vitam. She had one of her manipulator faeries brainwash your friend Eve and convince her to go to the Black Dungeon. The cab driver was a faerie, and I think he put a Mark of Immortality on you so you could get inside the club.”

  I glance down at the arm the cab driver grabbed and shudder. “But why are they after me? What do I have to do with this?”

  Dash contemplates something deeply. “Because you can help me become alive again.”

  “How? All I can do is talk to the dead.”

  “I think you can do more than that, but to find out, I need to figure out what you are.” He reaches for me with both hands. “So, if you could help me bring a friend of mine here who knows everything about everything, that would be fantastic.”

  I eye his offered hands nervously. “What exactly do I have to do?”

  A strange look flashes across his face, similar to how the vampire looked before he bit me, like he wants to devour me. I feel overwhelmed by the look, as if I’m tumbling into an unknown abyss. I’ve never experienced anything similar before, and it makes me curious to find out more about Dash: what he is, what he can do, if he’s the one making me feel this way.

  But then he says, “Just give me a little bit of your soul.”