BREAKING SHADOWS (Shadows Book 1)

Chapter 25

Unable to return to the wake below ground in the Catacombs, I walked back to the cottage. Not that I found any comfort there either, not in the place my grandmother had been murdered. Arden must have turned on the lamps in the living room and hallway so we didn't have to come home to somewhere cold and dark.

On my bed, where I knew they had not been before, lay my Jane Eyre essay from Mr Holloway's house and a rectangular parcel wrapped in pale brown paper. The edges of my essay were curled and worn in places. The paper was no longer crisp and bright white. I peeled at the wrappings of the parcel as if it was the shell of a delicate fruit in danger of bruising. A book bound in dark brown leather lay in the paper ruins. Boxed gold lettering bore the title 'Le Morte d'Arthur'. My first sob broke when I ran my fingers first across each letter, then the aged cover and down the weathered spine, feeling each and every one of its flaws and loving it more because of them. Templar crosses marked all four corners and a pattern of black Celtic knots and flowers repeated in the centre. It must have been hundreds of years old at least. The smell of history leaped off its pages.

I opened the hard cover and my heart sparked to find a message scrawled inside.

I know you covet books with stories of those who have held them within their hands, but there are not pages enough, not even in this book to tell you my tale. I have been an unexpected son, the soldier knight and the angel mortals fear. I do not know what I shall be next, but know this; whatever form I take, it will have been irrevocably shaped by you, heart and soul.

As I read, I sank to my knees making no effort to stop my tears. I wept until my vision blurred and I could read his words no more.

"You should be more concerned with your safety," said a familiar voice behind me.

With tears still soaking my face, I half-turned to find Callan in his armour and cape, his sword sheathed at his side. Somehow, he'd managed to squeeze his huge frame through the door. My first thought was he'd changed his mind and had come to take my life after all.

"The door was open," he said. "Wide open."

I clambered to my feet, hauling the large book onto the bed. Wiping any remaining tears from my cheeks, I faced the assassin. "What is it?"

"The angel," he said, quite matter-of-factly.

My mind went into overdrive, a chill tracing my spine. One deep breath to keep calm. "What about him?" I shouldn't have cared, but no-one had told my heart. "He was with me not so long ago, he seemed fine."

"They're coming. Those who would wish you harm. I've been told to warn you so you can prepare."

Another steady breath. "What else? What about Rafe?"

"The angel went to the school to see if he could stop them. I am yet to hear from him."

"You've seen Rafe?" Nausea crept up from my stomach, my face flushing. I staggered back, legs wobbling beneath me. Callan rushed to me, grabbing tight onto my arms.

"He's bought you time, witch. Use it wisely."

I sobered instantly at his words. What would Gran do? The right thing as she always seemed to. "They're coming?"

"Yes."

It seemed I would be a High Witch of firsts. I was the first High Witch to allow a Servant of Death into our midst and now I had returned to my grandmother's wake, to our sacred place with an assassin from Heaven.

There were expectant eyes on me as I stood on the dais before my grandmother's chair with an oversized denim jacket thrown over my mourning dress. My legs trembled, threatening to go from under me.