Luminous Spirits (Shadow Eyes Series Book 2) Read online

  Luminous Spirits

  Shadow Eyes Series, Volume 2

  Dusty Crabtree

  Published by Dusty Crabtree, 2017

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  LUMINOUS SPIRITS

  Copyright @ 2017 Dusty Crabtree

  Cover Design by Tara McKinney

  Luminous Spirits

  Dedicated to my loving husband and the amazing father to all the children that have graced our home. I love you more and more each day.

  Also, a special thanks goes out to my readers, especially those very special readers who read the original version of Shadow Eyes when it was first released and who then had to wait five years to continue Iris’s story. My deepest apologies for the wait and my sincerest thanks for hanging in there and reading the sequel!

  Chapter 1

  I coughed into my fist and searched the dark room for the exit sign. The smoke in the cramped little shack that passed for a bar was so thick I could hardly breathe, and the smells of cheap beer, stale cigarettes, and body odor were suffocating me. Seeing wasn’t any easier. The lighting in the room was faint, but I spotted the red exit sign in the back. The red light of the sign flickered as though the heavy air was smothering it as well.

  I blinked several times and swallowed hard. “Patrick, I’m not so sure this is a good idea.”

  He sat on the barstool in front of me, leaning his elbow on the grimy bar table. He looked perfectly at ease. In fact, he was grinning at me.

  “Remind me again why we’re here?” I asked, even though all of this had already been explained to me several times. At school, safe in Gregory’s classroom, my friends’ explanation of this “training exercise” had sounded strange but not entirely insane. But as I surveyed the room, overcrowded with dark shadows and grubby, vulgar, inebriated males, many of whom had tattooed arms the size of my thighs...I needed to be re-convinced.

  Kyra grabbed my hands and peered into my eyes apologetically. “I know it can be scary in here, sweetie.” The sound of a choked cough followed by what sounded like chunky liquid spattering the floor cut across the smoky room. We both grimaced. “And incredibly gross. I’m sorry, but you know we wouldn’t have brought you here if this wasn’t the best way to train you.”

  “She’s right.” Patrick’s grin had softened into an affectionate, even protective, smile. “Trust me. I don’t like you being in here either, but these drunk shadows are really easy to try your skills on.” He laughed. “Almost too easy.”

  “Yeah, actually this is pretty tame compared to what we normally deal with,” Kyra said.

  Gregory Delaney, the angel mentor who also happened to be my handsome English teacher, stood beside Patrick. The all-too-familiar let’s-turn-this-into-a-lesson look brightened Gregory’s face. “I know it seems kind of contradictory for light warriors to be in a place like this. Or using fake IDs for that matter. But remember, what is light used for?” When he got nothing but blank stares for a response, he answered his own question. “To light up the darkness.”

  Patrick rolled his eyes. “I feel an awkward teaching moment coming on.”

  Kyra snickered, but Gregory continued undeterred. “Just as a lamp needs to go into the dark to light up a dark room, we must be in shadow-infested areas to help people, Iris. We just have to be careful not to lose our light in the process.”

  Despite the corny illustration, his words gave me some strength. Or maybe it was the subtle glow extending from his human form to me. Either way, I’d gathered almost enough confidence for my newest training endeavor. Almost.

  “Also,” Gregory added, “not to put pressure on you, but you have to know that Lucas won’t leave you alone forever. And Donovan won’t leave Patrick alone forever either. Whenever they decide to make their moves, you’ll want as much training under your belt as possible.”

  Well, if anything was going to set a fire under me, it would be mentioning Lucas, the shadow that had attached to me for years as an oppressive fog. I had ditched him when I became a light warrior, but after three years of comfortably resting on my unknowing shoulders, he wasn’t going to let me go so easily.

  Then there was Donovan, the domineering shadow in charge of some of the dark servants, including for a while even Patrick. He’d threatened Patrick with harm to his family if he ever left the dark side to become a light warrior. And Patrick had.

  Gregory was right. I needed to be ready. Not just for me, but for everyone else.

  I stared at my hands but couldn’t find any of the raw, aggressive strength they all believed I had. My hands were so small—I could not picture them as weapons. Three weeks ago, right after I officially walked through the light, Gregory had told me I had special gifts that other light warriors didn’t——special abilities they had never seen. We’d uncovered one so far: I could touch and manipulate the shadows, getting rid of them with my bare hands instead of using the triangular glass prism that was the standard weapon for all light warriors.

  Almost a foot in length, flat on the bottom and pointed at the top, the prism absorbed and reflected light in its purest form. When wielded by a light warrior against shadows, the delicate and beautiful object became as lethal as a sword...without the bloody mess.

  But using a prism wasn’t on my agenda for the night. I was intentionally entering battle unarmed.

  “And you’re sure nobody’s going to freak out and think I’m a lunatic?” I imagined how I would appear to the people in the bar, strangling the air behind some ignorant, drunk guy.

  Patrick laughed. “We already told you, most of the people in here are so drunk, they probably won’t even notice. Worst case scenario, they’ll think you’re trashed and laugh at you.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Thanks. Because that’s so much better.”

  “Besides,” Kyra reminded me, “it’s not going to look any stranger than using the prism. And you know how that goes.”

  Yes. I did. I’d been training with the prism for the last few weeks. Using the prism would be an important skill, but due to my unique abilities, it would be more of a back-up. Like having a knife when I’d normally use a gun.

  I peeked in my purse at the beautiful, glimmering weapon and frowned. Seeing Patrick’s and Kyra’s graceful dexterity always made me feel inferior. I was impatient. I wanted to be excellent already. While I should have been excited to try out my newfound hand skills, all I could think about was how I had yet to master the prism. How much more training would be ahead of me? Would I have the patience for it?

  “Um...Iris?” Patrick looked at me with playfully raised eyebrows. “I recognize that self-deprecating look. Stop it.”

  “Iris,” Gregory said, “think back to the first time you used your hands to fight that shadow in your house. The one we all witnessed.” His eyes gleamed. “Let that fuel your confidence.”

  I let my mind take me back to that night.

  My sister had been dangerously ill in the hospital. A terrifying black form had chased me to my house. Gregory, the man whom I’d known as my English teacher, Mr. Delaney, saved me. But most important, I freed myself of the overbearing shadow that had surrounded me for three years without my knowledge. Lucas. I hadn’t known shadows could have names or missions, much less that I’d be a target of one. I had to revisit my suicide attempt to get rid of him for good, but with Gregory’s guidance, I faced my darkest darkness and came out a new person. A free person.

  That night, Patrick also freed himself of the darkness that had controlled him and came around to the side of the light for good. Together, sharing finally that friendship, that tenderness, that confu
sing closeness we had danced around for months, we stepped through the light portal and became light warriors.

  There was no time to celebrate, though. Right after stepping through the portal, before I really understood what I was doing, I had to face a shadow sent to destroy me. I intercepted the murky black figure with my bare hands and threw it out the window.

  That night—the night that changed who I was, who I thought Patrick was, and what I knew my life could be——was the first time I recognized my gift. I had used that gift completely by instinct. Something within me was driven to destroy the darkness. I hadn’t planned it. I’d just reacted.

  Now, all these months into my training, I hoped I could master wrestling shadows on command.

  I opened my eyes and breathed in deeply. Though the air was stuffy, I managed to suck in some confidence along with the smoke.

  “Gregory, I know I’m supposed to just throw the shadow like I did before, but I’ve seen you squeeze one until it vaporized. How exactly did you do that?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t try that just yet,” Gregory cautioned. “We’re still not sure about the extent of your powers. I’ve never heard of humans pulling that one off.” He shrugged and then smiled. “Then again, until you, I’d never heard of humans fighting demons with their bare hands. And I’ve trained a lot of light warriors.”

  I blushed but let his faith motivate me to proceed. Hopping off my barstool, I scouted the room for a target.

  “Now remember to find a Temp Shadow, Stage One.” Patrick narrowed his eyes, searching the room.

  “I know, I know, Stage One—Temporary Shadow. Not as serious. Talking to the victim and using our light often help,” I recited.

  Bottles clanked, high-spirited patrons guffawed, and pool balls crashed into one another. We grew quiet, and our silence heightened the boisterous noise of the crowd.

  I spotted a man in his late thirties alone at the end of the bar. A grayish-black fog lingered behind the man’s back as he gulped down whatever was in his shot glass. I could tell by the shadow’s smoky quality that it was a drunk, harmless temp, not anything violent.

  “That one,” I whispered, pointing to the man as discreetly as I could.

  Gregory was silent, his calculating eyes zeroing in on the man with the foggy friend. His drink finished, the man gathered his coat and laid some money on the bar. “Let’s wait for him outside. You can get him in the parking lot.” Gregory smiled at me. “Less of a scene that way.”

  I sighed in relief. Catching the shadow in the parking lot sounded way better than having an audience inside the bar.

  Once we were outside, my nerves jumped into high gear. I took my purse off my shoulder and calmly handed the bag to Kyra without taking my eyes off my guinea pig as he tumbled out of the bar. A fleeting thought blew through my mind…the prism was in my purse. No. I didn’t need it. I was going to do this the right way. No Plan B.

  “Remember, use your aura to your advantage,” Gregory’s low, soft voice whispered over my shoulder. “Since light is dark’s opposite, if you harness your aura, you can use the light as a sort of friction to grip the shadow.”

  Closing my eyes, I reached deep within me until I finally touched on something pure that made my whole body tingle. I imagined projecting that pure feeling outward until I felt myself radiating light. I couldn’t see my own light aura, but I could always sense it. The sensation was as serene as relaxing on clouds, but also as energizing as a caffeine high.

  “Don’t forget to use your passion,” Gregory added.

  The realization that I was going to kill a shadow with my hands, which would then free a man from the shadow’s tyranny, ignited a passion in my chest—the unique light warrior gift Gregory was referring to. My adrenaline and the pure white heat from my aura merged into a passion that felt like liquid fire racing through my entire body.

  The man stumbled to the parking lot. I flexed my fingers and curled them into fists a few times as I glared at the shadow, even though stupid fog was too ignorant to be intimidated. I approached the man from behind. He staggered to his old, beat-up car and fumbled with his key. I gritted my teeth, stretched out my hands, closed my eyes, and grabbed.

  My hands touched something cold and my mind instantly became blurry. With my eyes still clamped shut, I shook my head like a dog flinging water out of its ears. I couldn’t clear my head and faltered backwards a few steps. When I opened my eyes, I was appalled to find I was practically hugging the obscure fog with my arms embedded inside like a giant muff. I blinked several times, each time opening my eyes wider as if the expanded view would make the blurriness go away.

  As hazy as my mind had become, it took a full thirty seconds for me to understand what was happening. The feeling of intoxication must have rubbed off on me from the drunk shadow as I held it. Embarrassment and indignation rippled through me. Ripping the shadow off the guy was no longer good enough. Despite Gregory’s previous cautioning not to bother trying, I vowed to squeeze the leech to death.

  Pushing through my mental stupor, I closed my eyes and squeezed with all my might. My mind focused on one thing and one thing only—destroying the enemy. Everything else faded away.

  That’s when the crash came.

  The private force field I’d created around me and the shadow shattered into a million pieces, like glass breaking. I heard commotion from the bar, the noise suddenly louder and with much more clarity. Someone inside must have broken a window. I opened my eyes and turned towards the bar for confirmation, forgetting I still had the shadow in a choke hold. Seeing I was distracted, the leech squirmed free and sloshed away into the black night.

  “Ahhhhh!” I screamed in frustration as I stomped my foot like a child. My one shot at a stealthy snatch-and-grab and I’d blown it. The man who had been completely ignorant of my presence spun around and flattened his back against his car as if he’d seen a ghost. I was almost too frustrated with myself to remember to make up an excuse for my odd behavior. That, and I was still a little loopy from the effects of the shadow. Luckily the sounds of a fight pouring from the broken window of the bar seemed to distract the man. As if on cue, Gregory began walking towards us.

  “We need to get back in there and grab Joe before he gets himself knocked out.” Gregory’s charade was believable enough, but there was tension in his voice. He must’ve been anxious to get back inside where we were now needed.

  The man gawked at us both for a few seconds but then relaxed, apparently buying our bogus story. There was only one thing left to do.

  Once Gregory reached us, he furrowed his eyebrows and twisted his head. He eyed the man with a smirk like a guy would eye his friend about to try something stupid. “Now you weren’t really going to drive off in your condition, were you?” Gregory’s brilliant glow amplified and stretched towards the man, surrounding him with light.

  The man chuckled self-consciously as he slid his keys back in his pocket. He was still drunk but a bit more clear-headed without the shadow, not-to-mention more compliant with the influence of Gregory’s light. “No, no...” He looked embarrassed and glanced back at the bar. “I was just...”

  “Here, let me help you,” Gregory whipped out his phone and in seconds had the phone to his ear. “Yes, I need a taxi at 451 South Main Street.” He must’ve had the cab service number saved in his contacts. I coughed my laughter into my sleeve.

  Gregory slid his phone back in his pocket. “So you’re good then.” It was more of a statement than a question.

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m good,” the man drawled, flashing us the a-okay sign as he crossed his arms and legs in a failed attempt to act cool and nonchalant. His light-influenced smile persisted and was passably convincing. I just hoped when we and, therefore the light, left him, he didn’t simply hop into his car and take off.

  As if Gregory could read my mind—which he couldn’t, I’d already asked—he pulled a couple of twenties from his wallet and handed them to the guy. As the man accepted them, his mouth fell open.
He glanced from Gregory to the cash in his hand as if the green paper was a foreign object.

  Gregory smiled one of his most winsome smiles. “For the cab.”

  The man looked up at Gregory as though he wanted to cry. If he’d had any intentions of getting behind the wheel and driving, I was pretty sure he wouldn’t after that exchange.

  We walked back to the bar, Kyra and Patrick joining us along the way. As we neared the entrance, we grew silent and serious. In contrast, the jarring sounds of the brawl we were about to infiltrate grew louder, grating on my nerves. The idiotic fight had obliterated my chances of success against the shadow. Still, the fight promised a prime opportunity for a chance to redeem myself. I resolved not to waste it.

  The chaos inside overwhelmed me. The grunts and screams of grown men. The pounding of fists into flesh. The breaking of glass bottles over heads and on tables. I didn’t know where to start.

  I looked to Gregory, Kyra, and Patrick. Each of them scanned the room, sizing up our opponents, so I did the same. There were drunken shadows everywhere, but most of the brawlers also had more defined, darker figures violently swirling within the confines of their black silhouettes. These were also temp shadows, but they wouldn’t budge anytime soon. We were going to have to destroy them.

  “What kind of shadows are those, Iris?” Gregory asked without taking his eyes off the fight. Always a teaching moment with him.

  “The ones underneath are drunk temp shadows. The ones on top are violent temp shadows that will have to be killed.” I peered up at him for affirmation, my confidence wavering since I had not been able to finish the job earlier.

  He raised his eyebrows at me and nodded appreciatively. “Your shadow knowledge is improving. Nice work out there, by the way. It was a great first try.”

  I let a wide grin stretch across my face despite the riotous circumstances. But then the grin faltered as realization and subsequent embarrassment took over. My angel mentor had been watching when I’d gotten second-hand plastered. Of course, my intoxication hadn’t been my fault. It’s not like I’d gotten drunk on purpose. But the fact that my incompetence had landed me in a state of mind I was never meant to be in as a light warrior made me uncomfortable.