Shadow's Dream Read online

  Shadow’s Dream

  Kyn Kronicles Book 5

  Jami Gray

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Hunted by the Past

  Lying in Ruins

  Glossary

  Cast of Kyn

  Also by Jami Gray

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  As always, none of my stories would see the light of day without the support and love of family and friends.

  Any mistakes on translations are solely mine.

  This is for all of you who’ve stuck around since the beginning—Thank you!

  Chapter One

  Many nightmares haunted the most powerful witch in the Northwest, but none as disturbing as Cheveyo’s recent visitations. As the head of the Kyn’s Northwest Magi house, he was quite familiar with the varied forms monsters could take. From the kindly faced next-door neighbor whose horrific secrets were buried in the basement, to the terrifyingly grotesque beings who hid deep in the Kyn shadows, never to step into the light. Dressed only in his sleep pants, he stood on his deck overlooking the Oregon coast, concentrating on the bite of wood against his palms. A particularly strong gust cooled his sweat-soaked skin and triggered a hard shudder. For the briefest moment he considered going back in and getting a T-shirt, but he was locked in place by his lingering night terrors.

  A flash of a female’s face, the beloved features lined with pain and fear drove the dread perched in his aching chest to climb into a choking lump that settled in his throat. He shook his head, once, hard, and the features changed into softer, younger curves, this time etched with the more familiar signs of half-hidden disillusionment and hints of betrayal. His fault.

  He slammed a fist against the railing, using the sharp spike of pain to help push the images aside. He focused on the roiling waves below, crashing into the rocky shore, willing his mind blank. The wind tangled his hair over his face, but he ignored it as he tried to regain his emotional footing.

  Deep in his head, where a solid barred door stood guard on the psychic plane, someone knocked. Growling under his breath, he ignored it. He was in no shape to handle such an interaction right now. Not on top of everything else. A harsh, bitter bark of noise escaped, only to disappear into the night. If his people could only see him now—his mantel of authority nothing but a thin cloak hiding the Frankenstein patchwork of magical ability and sheer stubbornness—they’d panic. Hell, he couldn’t blame them, not when he was busy doing a little panicking of his own.

  Not only did he have his own dreams to contend with, but a bigger threat loomed on the horizon. A threat that three of his people, each one blessed, or cursed, depending on your point of view, confirmed. Since each held the ability to catch glimpses of the future and each had made the almost two hour trek from Portland to Canon Beach to share the details of it with him, it was enough to make anyone a mite leery.

  Time was running out for the supernatural world of the Kyn. The meager curtain of secrecy keeping their presence from the humans was being devoured by the moths of technology and change. His visitors each bore the same message, either the Kyn came together and revealed themselves to the mortal world, or they would, once again, become the hunted. Only this time, thanks to the combination of rising discontent within the Kyn and humanity’s sheer numbers, they would be eradicated.

  Yet it wasn’t those grim tidings that dragged him from his bed. Instead, it was the endless questions of “what if”. Decisions made all those years ago were coming back to bite him in the ass, leaving him questioning his choices. Unfortunately, his doubt wasn’t limited to just tonight, but every damn night for close to a year since he returned from Arizona. Since he left the woman who held his heart behind for the second time. Tala Whiteriver.

  It made sleeping a fruitless, frustrating pursuit.

  Another knock on the psychic door, this one a bit more impatient, left him raking his mist-laced hair back from his face as he turned his attention inward. Manipulating the magic he lived and breathed, he thinned the barrier enough to allow communication, but not enough to allow his visitor a peek inside the mess crawling behind the door. “What, Raine?”

  There was a minuscule pause before she responded. “What the hell is your problem, Cheveyo?”

  Even without her being physically there, he could practically see her—hands on her hips, a dark frown on her face. “Other than you pounding at the damn door, not a damn thing.”

  Her disbelief was palpable. “Yeah, try again, because I’m not buying it.”

  The nice thing about communicating on the magical plane was that his ability to project whatever he wanted was nearly infallible. Even to this warrior woman, who thought she knew who she was dealing with. Unfortunately, the time was coming closer to shatter her assumption. Just not yet. He wasn’t ready to deal with the fallout, nor was there a real need for the reality check.

  Mentally taking a defensive pose—feet braced, arms crossed—he reigned in his impatience. “Then buy this: it’s personal.”

  “Fine,” her mental voice all but growled. “But if you’re in trouble, you better—”

  “I’d better what?” Her response sparked his precarious temper and, for the first time in a long while, he decided to remind this admittedly lethal adult-child of her place. His magic rose in a thunderous wave held in check only by his control. “Remember who you’re addressing, Raine McCord.” He allowed the edge of his power to whip between them, anticipating her explosive reaction, which wasn’t long in coming.

  She struck back, not to harm but because, in the Kyn world, it wasn’t about hurting, but dominance, and right now she was having trouble reconciling her perceptions with truth. A truth he managed to keep from her and her lover, Gavin Durand, for months now. He let her magic dance with his, making her work for it, but knowing in the end he would win.

  When the pressure of her magic finally retreated, he drawled, “Are you done?”

  “For now.”

  At her reluctant, yet cautious submission, he buried his smile deep. If she caught the barest whiff of his amusement, she’d go ballistic, and tonight he didn’t have the time or patience to deal with her temper tantrum. Spectacular though it would be.

  “What’s happening?” This time her question carried more respect and wariness.

  He sighed and gave her the only answer he could, “Change.”

  He could feel her turning his response over and over, trying to fit it with the pieces she held. She was doomed for disappointment, because she was currently missing a few key segments. “When?”

  “If I’m not mistaken—” And he wasn’t. “—soon.”

  “I really wish you and the rest of the leaders would stop with your cryptic shit.”

  Her waspish complaint garnered an honest laugh. “Wish we could, but it’s part of our job de
scriptions.”

  “Why am I not surprised?”

  There was a wryness to her mental tone, one indicating they had skated beyond the flashpoint. It allowed some of his tension to slip away. “Because you’re nothing if not intelligent.”

  “You might want to remember that,” she warned. “While you’re hiding your secrets, Cheveyo.”

  “If I need you, I’ll let you know.” It was the least he could give her, considering this bond existed because both of them had once made a choice to save the other.

  “Promise?” Her question was soft, but serious.

  “I promise.” With that, he gently closed the psychic door between them.

  Alone in his head once more, he drew in the cool night air and slowly let it out. The chaos in his head calmed. He let the night wash through him, taking what Mother Nature offered and letting it sink deep, soothing his ragged emotional edges.

  Deep in the house behind him, a phone rang. He took a moment to take another breath and let it out before turning to head inside to answer. His bare feet whispered over the wooden floor as he reached for the cell phone on the kitchen counter.

  Spying the familiar number, his momentary peace evaporated. “Hello, Natasha.”

  Chapter Two

  As the cabin came into view a wave of hair-raising, deja vu left Cheveyo white knuckling the steering wheel. Strange that such a benign image could make his heart race and leave his mouth drier than the desert. Especially considering he spent more years than he cared to remember facing down both human and inhuman nightmares that would break most minds. Yet this rustic three-room cabin housed his greatest joy and his deepest fear. Neither of which could be allowed to play a part in his current visit because he wasn’t here for personal reasons, he was here for business. Specifically Kyn business. His shoulders braced under the settling weight of his role as the head of the Northwest Magi House as he brought the rental SUV to a stop next to a battered truck.

  “Want me to wait here?” The question came from the man sitting in the passenger seat and held no judgment. An admirable feat considering the situation.

  With a studied deliberateness, Cheveyo relaxed his grip on the steering wheel, forcing his tension back. “No need.”

  The other man undid his seatbelt, letting it retract as he shifted in the passenger seat. “You sure?”

  Staring through the windshield, Cheveyo pondered Chay’s question. The younger man was here as Cheveyo’s bodyguard. Not because Cheveyo couldn’t take care of himself, but because it was a political necessity created by the fallout from his last visit. Of course, fallout out might be over simplifying things a bit considering the bodies left in his wake, one of which belonged to the mate of the Southwest Alpha. Despite the fact she tried to kill Cheveyo, he couldn’t quite squash his twinge of guilt over his part in her death.

  A sigh came from Chay. “Not sure how many times this can be said before you listen, but this mess here, it’s not on you.”

  If Chay could so easily follow his thoughts, then Cheveyo was slipping. He grimaced and blew out a hard breath. “I’m listening, Chay.”

  “But you’re not hearing.” Chay settled with his back against the door, his arms crossed over his chest. “Tomás’s mate was a nut job, Cheveyo. Something which seems to be an epidemic down here.” He added the last under his breath.

  There, then, was the judgment and, for some odd reason, it scraped against Cheveyo’s temper. “She was a grieving mother,” he snapped, glaring at the other man.

  Completely unruffled, Chay’s dark gaze and voice remained rock steady. “She raised a Soul Stealer and came damn close to killing you, just to protect her dirty little secrets.” A hard edge snuck into the last couple of words and added a baleful light to his eyes. “I may not have been there, but Gavin and Raine didn’t pull any punches when they brought me up to speed. You came here last year with Raine to help a fellow Magi leader uncover who was killing her people. You did your job, and now Tomás is out for blood.”

  “She was his mate,” Cheveyo muttered, knowing there was no real way to refute Chay’s statement.

  “And now he’s as crazy as she was,” Chay shot back, his frustration finally breaking through. “Look, what happened then and what’s happening now is not on you, it’s on them. It’s not safe for you here. Hell, even Natasha didn’t want you to come.”

  “It’s not her call.” Something he made crystal clear during his last exchange with the Northwest’s Demon Queen and the other two heads of Kyn houses.

  Chay gave him a hard look. “Because of the shared visions?”

  “Partly.” There was no arguing with the fact that when a shaman, a high-ranking witch, and an oracle all shared the same damn dream, you needed to pay attention. A point he explained at length to the other Northwest leaders.

  “And the other part?” Chay pressed.

  He held Chay’s dark gaze. “There was no other choice. Warrick couldn’t come because Tomás would see his arrival as a threat to his pack—”

  “Not to mention he holds our alpha directly responsible for his mate’s death,” Chay cut in unhelpfully.

  Ignoring his comment, Cheveyo went on, “There are so few Fey here that sending Carys would do nothing to resolve the situation, and Rio specifically warned Natasha to stay the hell back.” And it would be beyond foolish to ignore the Southwest Amanusa leader when he warned his Northwest counterpart to stay away. Besides, not only would the wrong people note Natasha’s absence from, but they’d very likely exploit it.

  Chay’s lips tightened. “I could take care of this myself.”

  “That isn’t the issue.” Since Chay was one of the highly skilled, covert Kyn warriors known as Wraiths, Cheveyo didn’t doubt Chay’s ability to hold his own. But justified or not, Cheveyo couldn’t shake his sense of responsibility for the current unrest among the Southwest Kyn.

  “Then explain to me what is,” Chay demanded.

  “I can’t.”

  Chay canted his head as a shrewd light flared in his eyes. “Can’t or won’t?”

  Holding his gaze, Cheveyo bit out, “Won’t.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s personal.” Cheveyo wouldn’t give him more than that. Couldn’t, actually, because his other, deeper, reasons were locked down tight. If everyone would stop picking at him and his decisions, he wouldn’t have to waste time repeating himself.

  Chay continued to study him, his face carefully blank, his thoughts hidden deep. “Can you do this?”

  It was a question few would dare to ask Cheveyo, because questioning a Kyn leader could be detrimental to your health. As Chay was one of the privileged few, Cheveyo answered, “Yes.”

  A few more seconds ticked by before the tension in the SUV faded and Chay’s arms dropped as he shifted in his seat. “Fine, then I’ll wait right here while you explain your impromptu visit.”

  Grateful for the reprieve, Cheveyo followed his lead. “Scared, Chay?”

  “Of accusing the Southwest Magi Head of not being able to keep her house in order?” Chay’s lips twitched. “Merely exercising caution.”

  A small humorous huff escaped as Cheveyo shook his head. “Wise man.”

  He reached for his door and shoved it open before stepping out into the late afternoon sun. He stood next to the SUV, his gaze scanning their surroundings. The light drifted through the ponderosa pine painting the ground with dappled patterns. A breeze carrying the promise of rain tried to push back the blanketing heat as Arizona’s monsoon season sought refuge in Flagstaff’s higher elevations.

  He shut his door and rounded the rental SUV, noting the sense of stillness hovering over the cabin. He stopped by the hood, at tradition dictated, waiting for the typical greeting—the rush of canine welcome followed by the occupant’s appearance. When neither happened, unease crept in. Something was off. He took a moment to determine what was wrong. Turning back, he caught Chay’s attention through the windshield.

  The thump of the passenger door rippled
through the yard, then Chay stopped at his side. “Want me to knock?”

  “Might as well, her truck’s here.” But Cheveyo wasn’t sure it would do any good. No one was here. Not Tala Whiteriver or her furry shadow, Ash. The quiet was too deep, too still. Chay jogged up the steps to the door and knocked.

  As the seconds ticked by with no response, Cheveyo’s waning patience and growing disquiet turned brittle. This wasn’t right.

  Heeding instincts honed by decades of experience, he tapped into the magic that made him Kyn, thinning the protective barrier until the world shifted and took on a sharper, clearer edge.

  The cabin was no longer still, but surrounded by a luminescent glow, the telltale sign of a complex ward. Not unexpected considering Tala’s strength. Thankfully, there were no signs of intrusion or violence. Some of the tightness in his chest loosened.

  Since he had no desire to clash with her protections, he called Chay back. “She can’t be far, let’s take a walk around.” Because standing here and waiting wasn’t working for him.

  Chay came back down the front steps, a frown marring his lean face. “You feeling it too?”

  “Yeah, problem is, I can’t pinpoint what’s behind it.” Cheveyo waited until Chay stood at his side and kept his voice low, “You getting anything?”

  When Chay shook his head, Cheveyo couldn’t hide his grimace and silently cursed. If whatever triggered his internal alarms could elude two highly powerful witches, this already complicated situation was quickly graduating to completely screwed. Or maybe it’s just an excuse not to face her. He ignored the snide voice, acknowledging that not even a year had passed since his last trauma-inducing visit. Not nearly enough time to forget what once hunted here. Or the havoc it left behind.