Shadowman by Erin Kellison Page B

found her spine and slapped his hand away from her face to prove it. What had gotten into her? She didn’t know this man, and he certainly didn’t know her. Why did his open arms seem like a haven of safety and comfort?
    â€œI am not mistaken.” His lips curved into a slight smile. A smile. Here. In this black hole, with this . . . this thing burning at her back.
    The man was out of his mind, and so was she to respond. She had to be very clear. “Get the hell away from me.”
    The smile grew fierce. “Same spirit.”
    Drugs. It had to be. Something in the air was causing her to hallucinate. That’s why she felt this way. She needed to get out of this smoke, breathe clean, industrial smog and rancid river, and then maybe her head would clear. She peered into the darkness beyond him. The exit, she hoped, was that way.
    kat-a-kat: You’ll be alone forever. Throw me wide.
    â€œNo!” Though she didn’t know whom she answered. If she could just get out. Find her car. Then maybe—
    â€œShhh. Be still.” The man raised his hand again, but hesitated, holding it in the air over her heart. Or maybe he wanted to cop a feel. What was it with men today?
    She gripped her flashlight, but found she held the iron flower instead. Fat lot of good that would do her unless she could knock him out with it, then . . .
    . . . then throw me wide.
    Yes, then open the gate wide.
    A sudden bright light caught her attention, a door opening in the dark. So white-bright it made her eyes tear. What now?
    â€œDamn fool angel,” the blacksmith growled under his breath.
    Angel? He was absolutely, unequivocally stark raving—
    Layla didn’t have time to dodge the swift caress of his fingers to her forehead. “Sleep,” he commanded.
    Even as her mind sparked with anger against his touch, her legs gave in a watery whoosh and she fell into darkness.
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    Shadowman caught Kathleen’s fluid drop and lifted her against his chest. Elation had him humming, trembling with excitement. He had to check himself so he wouldn’t crush her body.
    â€œThat her?” Custo asked as he approached. His gaze quickly flicked to the gate, hardened, then returned to Shadowman.
    â€œYes,” Death breathed.
    Custo’s doubt and impatience infused the crowded Shadows. “Then why is she mortal? And why is she out cold?”
    â€œI cast her into sleep so the gate wouldn’t plague her while I dealt with you. And she wasn’t in Hell after all.” Shadowman drew deep to inhale her scent; under the cloying perfumes of modernity was tangy, feminine sweat, turned slightly with fear. “She came to me.”
    Custo’s doubt redoubled and his brow lifted. “If you build it, she will come?”
    Shadowman frowned. The boy was laughing at him.
    â€œTalia is twenty-eight.” Custo jutted his chin toward Kathleen. “Shouldn’t she be in her fifties?”
    The woman in his arms was indeed young, fresh, new to the world. “She was reborn.”
    â€œReincarnated? That’s very rare. Damn near unheard of. Are you certain it’s her?”
    Shadowman did not deign to answer a second time. As if he wouldn’t recognize the woman who’d changed everything for him. Kathleen.
    â€œOkay, it’s her. Bully for you.” Custo’s gaze moved to the gate. “So that thing wasn’t necessary after all?”
    â€œThe gate drew her, did it not?”
    â€œNext time make a compass. Leave Hell and its devils alone, please.”
    A sear on his senses told Shadowman there were more of Custo’s kind massing outside the warehouse. The jumble of heartbeats confirmed it. They had come for the gate, but somehow he knew they’d refuse him Kathleen as well. They could not have her. He’d fight them if they tried to take her.
    â€œThey’re coming,” Custo said. “You’d better get her out of here.”
    â€œThe