Shadow Heir: A Dark Swan Novel#4 Read online

  SOMETHING IN THE SNOW

  Outside, darkness had fallen, with only well-placed torches to give us light. The terrible screech sounded again, echoed by smaller, terror-filled cries from the Palm residents as they scurried for shelter. A flash of red caught my eye, and I grabbed Rhona’s arm as she ran past.

  “What’s going on?” I demanded. Even in the flickering torchlight, I could see she was as pale as the snow around us.

  “The storm,” she cried. “The storm is coming.” She tugged desperately against me and I released her, more confused than ever.

  “What’s going on?” said Rurik, coming to my side. “Are they being raided?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “They keep saying that—”

  I heard the roar again and this time its owner came into view. My jaw dropped.

  “That’s the storm?” I asked.

  If you could take every stereotype and caricature of the abominable snowman and roll them into one archetypal snow monster, you’d have what was standing before me. It was about twenty feet tall, covered in white shaggy fur. Three curved horns—one on each side and one in the forehead—protruded from its head. Its eyes were large and black, as were the six-inch claws on its hands.

  When it roared, I caught a glimpse of a mouthful of razor-sharp teeth....

  Books by Richelle Mead

  The Georgina Kincaid Series

  SUCCUBUS BLUES

  SUCCUBUS ON TOP

  SUCCUBUS DREAMS

  SUCCUBUS HEAT

  SUCCUBUS SHADOWS

  SUCCUBUS REVEALED

  The Eugenie Markham/Dark Swan Series

  STORM BORN

  THORN QUEEN

  IRON CROWNED

  SHADOW HEIR

  Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

  SHADOW HEIR

  A Dark Swan Novel

  Richelle Mead

  ZEBRA BOOKS

  KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

  http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  SOMETHING IN THE SNOW

  Books by Richelle Mead

  Title Page

  Dedication

  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

  Copyright Page

  For my brother Steve,

  who helps keep our family on track.

  Acknowledgments

  Bringing Eugenie’s story to a close is bittersweet. She was my first real action heroine—and a fellow redhead to boot. I’ve had a great time writing her series and am grateful to all the friends and family who have loved me, supported me, and helped me come up with new and terrifying monsters for her to take down! Many thanks go to editor John Scognamiglio at Kensington, who took the chance on Eugenie and helped bring her story to print. Thank you also to my amazing literary agent, Jim McCarthy, for guiding these books every step of the way. And finally, I can’t say enough how grateful I am to all the fans that have followed Eugenie on her journeys in both worlds. Your enthusiasm is what continues to make writing such a joy for me.

  Chapter 1

  I’m sure Ohio’s a perfectly nice place, once you get to know it. For me, right now, it was akin to one of the inner circles of Hell.

  “How,” I demanded, “can the air possibly contain this much moisture? It’s like going swimming.”

  My sister, walking beside me in the late-afternoon sun, grinned. “Use your magic to push it off you.”

  “Too much work. It just keeps coming back,” I grumbled. Jasmine, like me, had been raised in the dry heat of Arizona, so I couldn’t understand why she didn’t have the same revulsion I did to the monsoon conditions of high summer in the Midwest. We both wielded weather magic, but hers was focused primarily on water, so maybe that explained her blasé attitude. Maybe it was just the resilience of youth, seeing as she was about ten years younger than me. Or maybe, just maybe, it was because she wasn’t nearly five months pregnant and hauling around an extra ten pounds or so of offspring who seemed intent on overheating me, sucking my resources, and pretty much slowing down every goddamned thing I did.

  It was also possible hormones were making me a little irritable.

  “We’re almost there,” said a polite voice on the other side of me. That was Pagiel. He was the son of Ysabel, one of the bitchiest gentry women I knew—and she didn’t even have excess hormones as an excuse. Pagiel hadn’t inherited his mother’s personality, thankfully, and possessed a knack for crossing between the Otherworld and the human world that rivaled mine and Jasmine’s. He was roughly the same age as her, and the fact that I had to have a teenage escort to get me to my doctor’s appointments only added insult to the many injuries I’d endured these last few months.

  A block ahead, the Hudson Women’s Health Clinic stood among its carefully pruned pear trees and neat rows of geraniums. The business was right on the line of the commercial and residential zones of the city and tried to give the appearance that it was part of the latter. It wasn’t the pretty landscaping that made me keep coming back to this sauna, walking half a mile each time between the Otherworldly gate and the clinic. It wasn’t even the medical care, which was fine as far as I could tell. Really, when it came down to it, this place’s biggest appeal was that so far, no one had tried to kill me here.

  That cursed wet heat had me dripping with sweat by the time we reached the building. I was used to sweating in the desert, but something about this climate just made me feel sticky and gross. Fortunately, a wave of air-conditioning hit us as we walked through the door. As glorious as it was for me, it was a miracle for Pagiel. I always liked seeing his face when he felt that first blast. He’d grown up in the Otherworld, where fairy—or gentry, the term I preferred—magic could work wonders. He wouldn’t blink an eye at magical feats that would make a human gape. But this? Cold air produced by a machine? It blew his mind every time. No pun intended.

  “Eugenie,” said the receptionist. She was middle-aged and plump, with a kindly, hometown air about her. “Back with your family I see.”

  We’d taken to passing Pagiel off as our brother, for simplicity’s sake. Really, though, it wasn’t a stretch to imagine us all being related. Jasmine’s hair was strawberry blond, mine a light red, and Pagiel’s a true auburn. We could have done advertising for the National Redhead Solidarity Group, if such a thing existed. No one at the clinic ever seemed to think it was weird that I brought my teenage siblings along, so maybe that was normal around here.

  We took seats in the waiting room, and I saw Pagiel shift uncomfortably in his jeans. I hid a smile and pretended not to notice. He thought human clothes were crude and ugly, but Jasmine and I had insisted he wear them if he wanted to be part of my obstetric security detail. Normally, the gentry favored silks and velvet in their clothing, with flourishes like puffy sleeves and cloaks. Maybe he could have gotten away with that on the West Coast but not here in middle America.
/>
  Both he and Jasmine stayed behind when the nurse came to get me. Jasmine used to go in with me, but after an embarrassing incident when Pagiel had tried to attack someone with a Milli Vanilli ringtone, we’d decided it was best if he wasn’t left alone. Although, I admit, it was hard to fault his actions.

  I went to see an ultrasound tech first. As the mother-to-be of twins, I was knocked into a high-risk category and had to have more ultrasounds than someone with a “normal” pregnancy would. The tech situated me on the table and slathered gel on my stomach before touching it with her paddle. And just like that, all my crankiness, all my sarcasm—all the feelings I’d so haughtily walked in with—vanished.

  And were replaced with terror.

  There they were, the things that I’d risked my life—and the fate of the world—for. To be fair, the images still didn’t look like much to me. They were only sketchy black-and-white shapes, though with each visit, they became increasingly more babylike. I supposed this was a marked improvement, since for a while there, I was certain I’d be giving birth to aliens and nothing human or gentry at all.

  “Ah, there’s your son,” said the tech, gesturing to the left side of the screen. “I was pretty sure we’d be able to spot him this time.”

  My breath caught. My son. As she moved the paddle to get a better angle, his profile flashed into stark relief, small arms and legs and a rounded head that looked very human. This tiny creature, whose beating heart was also clearly visible, hardly seemed like a conqueror of worlds. He seemed very small and very vulnerable, and I wondered not for the first time if I’d made a mistake in continuing this pregnancy. Had I been tricked? Had I been taken in by this innocent façade? Was I even now nurturing the man who prophecy said would try to enslave humanity?

  As though sensing my thoughts, his sister stirred on the other side of the screen. She had been a large driving force in my decision to keep this pregnancy. If I’d terminated it in an attempt to save the world from my son, I would’ve been responsible for ending her life. I couldn’t do that to her. I couldn’t do that to him, even. It didn’t matter what the prophecy said. They both deserved a chance to live their lives, free of what destiny had allegedly dictated for them.

  Now, if only I could convince all the people who were trying to kill me of that.

  “Everything looks great,” the tech told me. She put the paddle away, and the screen went black, shrouding my children in shadows once more. “Perfectly normal.”

  Normal? Hardly.

  Yet, when I was ushered into an exam room to speak to the doctor, her opinion was the same. Normal, normal, normal. Sure, twins required extra watching, but otherwise, everyone seemed convinced I was the model of a perfect pregnancy. None of them had any idea, not even the tiniest clue, of the daily struggle I went through. None of them knew that when I looked at my stomach, I was tormented with the image of violence done in my name and the fate of two worlds hanging in the balance.

  “Do you feel them move yet?” the doctor asked me. “It’s around that time.”

  Images of Alien came to mind. “No, I don’t think so. How will I know?”

  “Well, it’ll be pretty obvious in later pregnancy. This early, you start to feel fluttering sensations. Some people say it’s like a fish swimming around. You’ll know when it happens. Don’t worry—they won’t be trying to kick their way out. Not at first.”

  I shuddered, not sure how I felt about that. Despite the changes in my body, it was still easy to regard this as some physical ailment. It was only the ultrasound that reminded me there were actually people living inside me. I wasn’t sure I was ready to also start feeling them squirm around.

  The doctor glanced at her clipboard. “Honestly, everything looks great,” she said, echoing the ultrasound tech.

  “I’m tired all the time,” I countered. “And I keep getting short of breath. And I’m having trouble bending. I mean, I can still do it, but it’s not easy.”

  “That’s all normal.”

  “Not for me.” I used to banish ghosts and beat up monsters for a living.

  She shrugged. “You have two people growing inside of you. It’s going to get worse before it gets better.”

  “But I have a lot of things to do. My lifestyle’s pretty, um, active.”

  She remained unmoved. “Then you’re going to have to adapt.”

  Despite my whining, I was sent off with a clean bill of health and instructions to book my next appointment. In the lobby, I found Jasmine and Pagiel exactly where I’d left them. She was leafing through a copy of People and trying to explain to him both the definition and appeal of reality T V.

  Maybe the office didn’t bat an eye at my “siblings” because I simply had too many other weird habits. Like, for example, I always paid for each visit in cash. When you tacked on things like ultrasounds, blood work, and other medical testing, the final price tag was pretty high. I always felt like I was one step away from pulling out a Mafia-style suitcase filled with hundred-dollar bills. There was no alternative, however. I couldn’t do anything that would allow my enemies to track me. Medical insurance claims would create a paper trail, as would even paying with a check or credit card. For the majority of gentry, none of that was a concern. Most were like Pagiel and could barely grasp the idea of banks or the postal system, let alone using them to track me. Unfortunately, my enemies in the Otherworld had very good connections here among humans, those who knew our systems inside and out. It was because of them I was in Ohio in the first place. Tucson had been compromised.

  Another woman, far more pregnant than me, was just entering the office as the receptionist printed my receipt. A gust of wind swept in behind her, and she had to fight to catch the door and make it close. Pagiel, though inept at technology, had been trained in the gentry ways of chivalry and jumped up to help her.

  “Thanks,” she told him. She flashed the rest of us a cheery smile. “I can’t believe how fast the weather turned on us. A cold front came out of nowhere.”

  The receptionist nodded sagely. “That’s how it is this time of year. We’ll have storms tonight for sure.”

  As if I needed another reason to dislike the Midwest. God, how I missed Tucson’s unchanging climate. As I walked out with Jasmine and Pagiel, I knew I had an unfair attitude. I was simply feeling the woes of my self-imposed exile. I didn’t really hate Ohio so much as I missed Arizona. Once we were back in the Otherworld, I could visit the kingdom I ruled and practically be in a mirror of Tucson. I’d designed it that way. And yet ... it wasn’t the same. I kept blaming everything on the weather, but a place was defined by more than just that. There was a culture and a vibe, driven by its people, that was unique to every location. The Thorn Land was great, but it would never replace my hometown.

  “Damn,” said Jasmine, trying to pry her hair off of her face. A fierce wind had whipped it right at her as soon as she stepped outside. “That lady wasn’t kidding.”

  I pulled myself from my self-pity enough to note that she was right. The temperature had dropped, and that thick, suffocating air from earlier was now in motion as fronts collided. The cute ornamental trees swayed back and forth, like synchronized dancers. Dark clouds, tinged with a sickly green, gathered above. A chill that had nothing to do with the cool-down ran over my skin. My asshole gentry father, aside from getting me stuck with a prophecy that said his eldest grandson would conquer humanity, had also passed on his prowess with weather magic. I was tuned in to all the elements that made up a storm: the moisture, the air, even the charged particles that heralded lightning. My senses were open to them, and the intensity of all those factors hitting me at once now was a bit overwhelming.

  “So much for a candy run,” I muttered, peering at the angry sky. I was out of Milky Ways and pretty desperate for some. “We’ll be lucky if we don’t get drenched before we reach the gate.” Not for the first time, I wished I had a car during these Ohio trips, but it was pointless. The only real reason I came here was for the clinic, and it
was within walking distance to the gate that led back to the Otherworld. There’d be no practical way to keep a car here. Plus, riding in one would probably kill Pagiel.

  I’d glanced at the sky, mostly verifying that things looked as bad as they felt, when something suddenly jerked me to a standstill. If I scanned to the north, looking above a stretch of trees, I could see the edge of the storm clouds. The black ceiling above us only extended a mile, and where it ended abruptly, I could see sunshine and blue sky. I was willing to bet the air was stiflingly hot and humid there too. Looking around, I saw that was the case everywhere. Directly above us, the sky was dark, but those clouds extended in a very finite, very clearly defined way. It was like being under a perfectly round dome. All around those hard edges, sun fought to get through.

  My companions came to a halt beside me, and I met Jasmine’s gaze. “I feel it... .” she murmured. “I didn’t at first. There was too much going on... .”

  “Me too,” I said. Along with feeling storm elements, she and I were also sensitive to magic specifically acting on them. What we were feeling now wasn’t a natural occurrence. There were so many stimuli that the magic behind it had remained hidden to me initially—as was no doubt intended. There were Otherworldly forces at work. And with that realization came another: we’d been discovered. My Midwest safe house was no longer safe. “Fuck.”

  Pagiel’s young face was grim as he glanced at me. “What do you want to do?” Pagiel had inherited his mother’s magical prowess with air, so he too had probably figured out something was amiss.

  I began walking again. “We’ve got to get to the gate. There’s no other choice. Once we cross, we’re safe.”

  “Whoever’s doing this must know about the gate,” pointed out Jasmine. “They could be on the other side waiting.”