Earthly Shadows (Murphy's Law Book 3) Read online

"So, we need to have a plan." I started the conversation as directly as I could. "And we need to be ready to strike soon. Newton will be trying to heal himself, like we have. We can't give him the luxury of time."

  "We also have to know what resources we have. To do that, we'll have to go Below." Angus crunched on a piece of bacon, his brows drawn together as he thought through what was coming. "I can get us in the back door."

  "It'd be better if we had some means of recon," said Callum. "I don't like the idea of going in blind."

  "I have some sources in place. We just have to get close enough for them to find us."

  Cal tipped his head at my father. "You're assuming that Newton won't be watching for us."

  "I'm assuming that Newton is licking his wounds and scrambling to prepare for the battle that's coming. His plan ended without defeat in the chapel. Delaney ruined that for him. Another reason I'm immensely proud of her."

  I saluted him with my mug. "I'm glad my survival made you happy."

  "Your survival always make me happy." There was a flash of fire in his eyes as he said the words, then it was gone, leaving his bright green gaze meeting mine. "I've counted on it time and again."

  We bantered back and forth, whiling away the time as Torren finished his breakfast. A sketched-out plan emerged by the time we had cleaned up the remains of our morning meal, it felt good to have something to look forward to. Even if it was storming the gates of Hell.

  Callum gave each of us an assignment to help prepare for what was to come. I was tasked with cataloging how much ammunition we had for our weapons and filling the spare magazines. I suspected Cal knew the job would be a good distraction, a way to keep my mind focused on counting and being productive rather than thinking about what we would soon be doing. As much as I wanted to pursue Uncle Newt - my brain stumbled over that now, the moniker assigned to him my entire life reopening the wound his betrayal had left - I had no illusions about how dangerous this would be. Newton had already proven how committed he was to defeating my father. And me.

  I went through the knives I kept on display in the basement, where I practiced throwing them. They’d been a birthday gift from Newt, perfectly weighted for me to throw when I needed to. My fingers hovered over them as I hesitated. Normally, I'd be taking as many of these as I could with me. Along with the Witness pistol my father had made for me and the blessed bullets that had come with it. Instead, I was rethinking everything Newt had given me. Had any of his gifts been genuine? Or were they simply a ploy, a way to lull me into a comfortable state? Worse yet, could my knives be used to track where I was?

  "You're quieter than I thought you'd be down here." Cal's voice behind me interrupted my thoughts. "Are you okay?"

  I turned, a fake smile already on my face, but the way Cal shook his head at me told me it wasn't convincing. "How do you always seem to know when something's bothering me?" I asked, irritation coating my words.

  He tapped his chest and winked at me. "The bond never lies. You might be the best liar Above or Below, but you can't truly hide things from me. Getting you to talk about what's bothering you is the real challenge, though."

  I sighed. He was right. My emotions were roiling inside me, and I didn't like to discuss things that upset me. I'd been on my own for years. Learning to deal with challenges had been part of it all.

  Instead of pushing me to share, Callum offered me the box he carried. "Here, this is for you."

  "For me? Why?" We'd been so busy running from crisis to crisis, I couldn't understand when he'd have gotten me something.

  "Let's just say I have a feeling you're going to need it." His eyes sparkled as he grinned, one side of his mouth lifting higher than another. It was a trait that endeared him to me. I wouldn't have ever dreamed that angels were anything other than physically perfect. This made him feel more human. I needed that connection.

  I took the box from him and cradled it in my hands. Warmth seeped from the intricately carved wood into my skin. Cal reached out and lifted the lid for me. Peering inside, I was surprised to see a sheath the color of mahogany. Runes had been tooled into the leather's gleaming surface, and I had an urge to touch them.

  Cal watched closely as I traced my fingers over the marks, a shiver running through me as they reacted to my presence. There was a tickle of energy that followed my movements, a trail of silver sparks in the air, and I could feel the magic within calling to me. When I looked back to Callum, he gave me a triumphant grin, then reached into the box. The bright metal of a dagger gleamed from the top of a leather sheath as he pulled them out and offered them to me.

  I reached out, fascinated at the amount of energy I could feel leaking into the air around us from these two objects. As my hand drew close, pain flashed through me, and I pulled instantly back. Cal shook his head, sliding the blade back into its protective sheath.

  "This is a blessed blade, Laney."

  "I've held blessed blades before."

  "Not like this one." He hesitated, biting his lip like he was unsure how to continue. "I called in a favor. The dagger was made for you by a smith, but I had a special blessing layered into the metal as it was forged. No demon will be able to withstand it, but you'll have to be careful when you use it."

  I stared at the weapon he held, putting the pieces together. "Because I carry Hell inside me now. Right?"

  He nodded. "I commissioned it before that happened." I started to protest, but his hand on my arm stopped me. "It was the right decision. I'm not faulting you for it. You did what you had to do in the moment. It was smart. If you hadn't done it, Newt might have won. It just made this gift a little more difficult to give."

  Cal took the beautifully carved box from me and set it on the shelf where the other knives I used were organized. As he turned, he moved to place the sheathed dagger in my hands, but I flinched away, anticipating a burst of pain. He waited, giving me a questioning look and I knew what he was asking even though he didn’t speak. He wanted to know if I trusted him. Taking a deep, calming breath, I gave him a reassuring nod. Cal smiled, his face lighting up and he placed his gift into the cradle of my open palms. I could feel the weight of the dagger inside, could feel the power of the blessing it held like it was a tangible thing. But the pain I'd experienced before was gone.

  "The sheath is an insulator. The runes keep the blade's magic contained and prevents it from harming you. When we're Below, this will be a powerful weapon against what we'll encounter."

  "But I won't be able to use it all the time." Understanding clicked in my mind. "You're saying I should save this for when I face Newt."

  The approval in his eyes kindled a heat in my stomach that was not at all related to the chunk of Hell residing there. "Exactly. We'll pack it carefully to take with us, and when you carry it into battle, the sheath should keep you safe until you have to use it."

  "I'll only get one chance."

  "That's usually all any of us get in those moments."

  I ran my hands over the supple leather, then placed it back into the box. The whirls carved into the box formed a mesmerizing pattern and I was tempted to ask Cal if there was a specific meaning or power they contained, but the question that came out was altogether different.

  “If Newt gave me something, would he be able to track me with it?”

  Cal’s eyebrows went up, and I knew it wasn’t a question he’d expected.

  “Gave you something? Like what?”

  I pointed to the knives I’d been examining earlier. “They were a birthday present. He taught me how to use them.” My voice caught at the memory. Newton had been so patient with me then, showing me how to balance my weight, to exhale as I released, and celebrating with me when I hit the target. The fact that I’d used what he taught me to bury a blade in his back less than a day ago made my stomach hurt.

  Cal picked up the knives, turning each one over in his hand and closing his eyes like he was using his magic to search for something. When he’d gone through them all, he settled them caref
ully onto the shelf and gave me a reassuring smile.

  “No trackers that I can sense. It was smart of you to wonder, though. If there’s anything else he gave you, leave it here. Might as well be on the safe side. No sense giving him an advantage if we can avoid it.”

  "Thank you," I said, my voice husky with emotion. "You always seem to know what I need. Thank you for that."

  He lingered, the bond that connected us a living, pulsing thing. Even as I couldn't hide my feelings from him, he couldn't hide his emotions from me. When I hugged him, he didn't hesitate, his arms wrapping around my waist and holding me close. Reassurance spilled into me, easing away the sharp edges of fear that had been clawing at my insides. He pressed a kiss to the top of my head and we stood there, supporting each other until we could face what was coming.

  5

  The mood was quiet that afternoon, and the wan light outside as the day faded into twilight seemed to match. I hated the uneasy silence hanging in the air, but I didn't have the energy to break it. My heart lifted a little at the sight of Torren, going through our packs, his color better and healthier than I'd seen in a while. His brow didn't have the pained, pinched look he'd carried for so long. That was an improvement I'd consider a win.

  Gravel crunching outside drew me to the front windows. I was surprised to see a familiar car pulling up the drive. A young man with a perpetually cheerful smile and hair that was always mussed clambered out. After unloading bags from the back seat, he juggled his cargo expertly while jogging up to my front door.

  I didn't wait for him to knock. "Ernie," I said, swinging the door open wide to allow him in. "What are you doing here? I didn't place a grocery order."

  He tipped his head to me, a gesture that was habitual and made me think of a Victorian gentleman doffing his hat in the presence of a lady. It was Ernie's silent way of awarding me the respect he felt, even though I wasn't that much older than him.

  "You didn't, Ms. Murphy. These are special orders from Miss Tilly. Supplies. She said they'd be needed."

  I froze in place, watching as Ernie made his way through my living room and to the kitchen. He did it automatically, copying the same path he took every other delivery day. I heard his excited greeting as he saw Moose and followed his voice.

  He'd set the bags on the table and was crouched down on the floor, scratching behind the Hound’s ears. Moose, having shifted to his Yorkie appearance, gave a canine grin as he soaked up all the attention from the boy in front of him. Ernie had been the one to convince me to keep Moose when we'd first found him. I hadn't known then that the Hound had been sent to me by Angus. I'd thought he was just an injured dog in need of a temporary home. Ernie's big heart and constant optimism were the reasons I’d given Moose a chance. I'd have to find a way to thank Ernie when I got the chance. The dog’s eyes met mine, a knowing shine in his dark gaze, and I was sure he knew exactly what I was thinking.

  "Oh!" Ernie jumped to his feet and gave me a big happy smile. Digging in one of the bags, he pulled out two large boxes. "I almost forgot. These came from the diner. From Anita. She thought you and your friends might like them."

  The boxes he handed me were heavy and warm, the familiar scent of sweet deliciousness wafting from them. Moose gave a happy bark and began spinning in circles around my feet. Ernie's laugh and Moose's excitement drew everyone else to the kitchen.

  "Do I smell apple pie?" asked Cal. Before I could answer, he scooped the boxes from my hands and set them on the counter. Slipping the lid off, he gave a crow of delight. "YES!"

  Moose joined in with another bark while Torren was eagerly pulling plates out of a cabinet. Ernie joined them, setting a container on the counter beside them. "You have to try this with it. New, homemade cinnamon ice cream. Anita's finally got it exactly the way she wanted it, and I promise, it's perfect."

  I watched the organized chaos, my friends all acting like ecstatic children as they served up pieces of apple pie and then added scoops of ice cream on top. Even Moose got a helping, served to him on his own plate.

  Ernie dropped into a chair at my kitchen table as if he completely belonged and accepted the slice handed to him by Cal. He took a big bite, closing his eyes in appreciation. Tor and Callum copied his expression exactly as they took their own first bites.

  "Is this all it takes to make them happy?" asked my father, leaning against the trimmed opening. "It seems too simple."

  I shrugged and gave him a grin. "Well, it is really good pie."

  I crossed the distance to where the pies waited, one of the tins already nearly empty. I lifted the last slice and slid it onto a plate, holding it out to Angus. "Might as well try it while you still can. The way they're going, it's not going to last long."

  He took it from me, picked a fork up from the counter and cut into the top crust. My father hesitated, and it struck me that he actually looked nervous.

  "Wait, have you never tried apple pie?" I laughed, unable to hide my amusement at the idea that trying baked goods might actually frighten the Devil more than the battle waiting for us Below.

  My father gave me an abashed look. "I've been a bit busy over the years, you know, young lady. Not just lounging around, dining like a princess on pie and other goodies."

  That made my lip twitch, but I swallowed down the stream of laughter that threatened to break free. Angus took a deep breath and then, bracing himself, took a bite. He chewed a couple times and then his eyes closed in delight, his mouth falling open as he said, "Oh. That's like magic."

  I added a scoop of the cinnamon ice cream to it and waved him on, enjoying the fact that something so simple as a thoughtful gift of pie and ice cream had lightened our load for a brief moment in time. Angus was right, it was exactly like magic. I grabbed a piece of paper from the drawer to my left and dug through the items stored in there until I found a pen, then wrote a quick note to Anita thanking her for the lovely gift. Just like it had before, it worked for my little family once again.

  Looking at the group gathered in my kitchen, my heart warmed at their presence, and I felt a part of me start to heal. The energy I'd expended restoring this home was proven worth it when I saw us all together. This was what I was fighting for - my home, my friends, and all of the people in Hazelwood. Not to mention the rest of the world. Because if Uncle Newt conquered Hell, I could only begin to imagine what he'd do to everything else. Pushing that thought away, I helped myself to a slice of warm pie with ice cream on top and savored the time we had here together. This moment, all of us here together, mattered just as much as what we were preparing to do.

  Leaning against the counter, I listened and laughed along with the jokes that were exchanged as the guys ate and then worked together to put away the supplies Miss Tilly had sent for us. It wasn't until the last bag was empty, and every piece of pie gobbled down, that Ernie seemed to really notice my father. His cheeks went pink and he suddenly appeared self-conscious.

  "Oh my gosh," he gushed, eyes wide. "You're Angus Murphy, aren't you?"

  My father smiled and I saw the spark of flames flash in his emerald eyes as he said, "Why yes, I am. It's nice to meet you. What can I do for you?"

  6

  "Miss Tilly said you might be here, but I thought there was no way in ... " Ernie choked off the final word, but we all knew what he'd been starting to say.

  Angus leaned forward, and I suddenly felt as if I was in the presence of something predatory. The darkness coiled inside me stretched in response, as if eager to see what was about to happen. I tried to signal to my father to stop, but he ignored me.

  "Miss Tilly told you about me?"

  I could feel the power coating my father's words, and this time, even Torren leaned away, like he was on full alert and needed to put as much distance between himself and my father as possible. It didn't have the same effect on Ernie, though. He leaned in, snared easily by the little push of power my father had used. My gut clenched with worry and I shot a look at Callum. His hands were closed in tight fists, his g
aze locked on my father and through the bond I knew he'd stop Angus from hurting Ernie if he had to.

  Ernie's voice sounded dreamy as he answered. "She did. She said to be careful while I was here. That you might forget the rules." He halted here, his words becoming confused. "The rules. I don't know what the rules are."

  "Don't worry about the rules, son," said Angus, his voice turning silky, and I didn't imagine it when the flames in the center of his eyes appeared again, twisting higher. "Tell me, what can I help you with? What do you want more than anything else?"

  Ernie's brow wrinkled and he was silent for a few seconds. He might not know the rules, but I did. And if Angus broke them, we were going to be in even more trouble.

  "Dad," I said, but Angus waved a hand at me and my voice died. Cal went rigid in his seat at the casual attack and I swallowed down the sudden fear rising up in my throat. We were definitely in trouble.

  "I want ...," Ernie's voice broke. He struggled to finish the sentence. I could see his throat move and was surprised when his next words came out strong and clear. "I want to be a good person."

  The tension evaporated and the core of darkness in me that had been so interested in what was about to happen deflated. I shoved it back behind the wall I'd constructed to contain it and breathed a sigh of relief. Ernie’s innocent answer saved us all from a big mess.

  "Time to go, Ernie," I sang out, the pressure that had silenced me moments ago gone.

  Ernie shook his head, like he needed to clear his head, and then gave me a sheepish smile. "Yeah. My parents will be wondering what's taking me so long."

  He gathered up his keys and followed me to the front door. Moose trailed behind us, a reassuring presence. I didn't want to appear like I was rushing him out of the house, but I wanted to avoid any more potential mishaps as quickly as possible. As I opened the door, I handed him the note I'd written for Anita at the diner and asked that he deliver it to her. I also slipped a few extra dollars into his hand as a tip.