Lost in Shadow (A Shadow Walkers Ghost Novel) Read online

  Lost in Shadow

  A Shadow Walkers Novel

  Book 1

  Cynthia Luhrs

  Table of Contents

  Description

  Acknowledgments

  Note to the Reader

  Prologue

  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

  Epilogue

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  Books by Cynthia Luhrs

  About the Author

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Lost in Shadow, A Shadow Walkers Novel

  Copyright © 2013 by Cynthia Luhrs

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  Description

  Lost In Shadow

  A Shadow Walkers Novel – Book One

  We were wrong…ghosts are frighteningly real. For centuries a war has been raging between light and shadow. Shadow Walker pitted against Day Walker, threatening to plunge the world into darkness. Colin, an ancient warrior who lost hope long ago, prowls the streets of Edinburgh, eviscerating those who prey on humanity.

  Emily possesses the ability to see beyond our realm into the dangerous realms of Light and Shadow. Unwittingly drawn into the shadows when she intervenes to help Colin, igniting his long-buried desires, she unleashes a terrible curse. Now with a week to break the curse, time is running out as they are locked in a deadly fight with forces that will stop at nothing to destroy them before they succeed.

  Intensely romantic and thrilling, Lost in Shadow portrays the struggle between redemption and retribution.

  For my Mom, you’ve always supported my dreams and believed in me.

  For Vakesia, who helped make this book possible. My biggest cheerleader. I couldn’t have done it without you.

  Acknowledgments

  Thanks to my fabulous editor, Eric Orloff at Editing for Authors. Gorgeous cover designed by Derek Murphy of Creativindie Covers, and formatting by Polgarus Studio. You guys are amazing!

  For Jennifer, Julie, Lauren, Victoria, and Wendy for always being there to listen.

  Thank you all for your unwavering support, it means the world to me.

  Note to the Reader

  I’ve taken liberty with Edinburgh, slightly changing places and geography to fit my story. Not to mention I split England and Scotland by water. Although the Nor Loch was filled in during the 19th century, I thought the name was perfect, could visualize the water along the imposing castle and I didn’t want it to be forgotten. I also added the secret tunnels although ‘tis rumored they exist. The area around the Leith docks is mainly an industrial area. I’ve made it into more of an entertainment district with the flavor of a seedy dockside environment. Haviland china didn’t come into existence until the late 1800s but a set I was admiring fit the pirate’s dining room so I’ve played with history. After all, it’s fun to take liberties with history. All mistakes are my own.

  Thank you to my wonderful fans for believing in me and loving the Shadow Walker world as much as I do. You guys rock!

  Prologue

  1644

  Edinburgh, Scotland

  Upon waking that dismal, cold morning, Colin had no bloody clue it would be his last, and it wouldn’t be from the damn plague sweeping across the land.

  Hearing footsteps, he lifted his head, the small braids on either side of his temple hanging limply, falling forward into his eyes as his brother approached. “Hamish, what are ye doing here? How did ye get past the guards? T’isn’t safe.”

  “Smuggling? What in the hell were ye thinking, smuggling whisky? Thank the gods our parents have passed. They’d be rolling over in their graves at the dishonor ye brought on our family.”

  Colin watched Hamish flick lint off his ridiculous velvet jacket before his brother finally deigned to turn and face him. He couldn’t move chained to the rough stone wall in the dank, reeking dungeon of Edinburgh Castle, otherwise he’d wipe the look of disgust off Hamish’s face. He surmised he didn’t look like the heir apparent today.

  With nostrils pinched and a disdainful sniff, Hamish looked into the cell. “Bloody cold in here. Looks like there are rats in the straw. Manacled like the common criminal ye’ve turned into. Appalling. Not very commodious accommodations for a baron, brother.”

  Green eyes blazing, he thundered, “Why. Are. Ye. Here? You’re supposed to be guarding Abigail.”

  Hamish regarded his brother dispassionately, “Yes, I guarded your loving fiancée quite well this morn as she woke perfectly content in my bed. I say, she is quite the tasty wench. I may not have conquered and killed my way across the continent but seems the ladies find me favorable.”

  Lashing out against the shackles, the lacerations he’d sustained broke open again as blood trickled down his chest. He snarled as Hamish took a few steps back, “How could my own flesh and blood betray me thus? Ye and Abigail? Of all the women in Scotland, you had to steal mine? The treacherous wench. I should have known that social-climbing bitch in heat would slither up to anything with a prick and gold to spend. Ye deserve each other. Step away from me brother, if I get my hands on you, I will show you no mercy when I kill you where you stand. Why did ye do it?” Colin spat.

  Hamish’s hand shook as he fiddled with the lace collar of his shirt. But he didn’t answer.

  Filled with fury over Hamish’s confession, Colin’s thoughts slid around his brain. Couldn’t believe he’d been caught.

  Everything had been meticulously planned; his men would go to their death before betraying him. He didn’t understand how that bastard Huntington, Captain Rawlins Huntington of the Redcoats to be exact, had found him.

  Using the Vaults was genius. Not to mention Colin’s castle had secret passages leading to a hidden cove where a small ship could dock unseen while the whisky was loaded. Smuggling whisky was a verra profitable business; keeping his snooty, spoiled ass of a brother in lace and frocks, as well as paying for much needed maintenance and repairs to the castle. My god, Hamish looked like some damned peacock strutting back and forth; Colin’s eye twitched with every flouncing turn.

  Frowning at Hamish, an ugly thought worked its way into his battered brain. Hamish had betrayed him with Abigail so it made sense he was the one who gave them up to the English Captain. Colin’s heart shriveled, turning black, curling in on itself. They were all each other had left in this world. He would never forgive this treachery. Shaking his head to clear it, he studied Hamish.

  “Ye never answered me brother,” Colin growled in a silky, low, menacing tone. Pulling against the manacles he lunged at Hamish.

  Hamish leaned nonchalantly against the wall. At slightly under six feet, he was shorter than Colin by five inches with a lean build and the same chestnut hair and green eyes. Anyone could easily see they were brothers.

  Swaggering over to Colin, careful to stay out of his r
each, Hamish cocked his head to the side and stated, “I thought ye were the smart one. Haven’t ye figured it out yet, brother mine?”

  Voice cracking with emotion, Colin sounded defeated for the first time in his life. “Ye. Betrayed. Me. With my fiancé. Ye. Betrayed. Me. To the bloody buggering English.”

  “Aye brother, I gave Captain Huntington your location. Ye really think I didn’t know what was happening? Your men will hang in the morn. Criminals—the lot of them. By the way, the reward was a bonus. ‘Twill be a nice addition to the family fortune. God knows I’ll need it the way Abigail spends my gold. With you out of the way, I plan to enjoy the rest of my days squandering the family fortune on drink, gambling, and bedding Abigail.” Hamish frowned, glancing at his sodden, ruined boots before looking back up at his brother.

  “You may have sent your enemies cowering back to their tents simply by taking the field of battle, never defeated—yet I, never having faced combat, managed to ensnare you. I relish this defeat of the mighty Baron Campbell. Where’s your precious code of honor now, dearest brother?”

  Thigh muscles rippling as he strained against his chains, Colin was gratified to hear one of the bolts scraping against stone. If he could pry one loose, he’d have a fighting chance of escape before the English hanged him.

  “Look brother, the world’s a harsh, brutal place. It’s time I have the title, the fortune, and the lass. It’s too bad ye’ll be dead and won’t be able to do a blasted thing about it.” Hamish yawned, pulling a dagger from his boot.

  In a deadpan, flat tone, Hamish continued, “I have hated ye since we were seven and father said ye were his favorite. Ye think his fall down the stairs when I was thirteen was an accident? I pushed the bastard. He never treated me as anything other than second best to ye. And mother. Oh yes, I poisoned her for loving ye more than me. I was the ‘spare heir,’ nothing more to them. All of ye sodding idiots thought she’d died of natural causes.”

  By the gods, with this reprehensible confession his brother had gone stark raving mad. Struggling to break free, blood coursed in fresh rivulets down his muscled body tearing wounds the English had bestowed upon him when they’d tortured him. The gut-wrenching pain was nothing compared to the unbearable ache ripping through his soul at the knowledge his own brother had murdered their loving parents. Colin couldn’t breathe, the agonizing pain of their loss hitting him again after so many years, crashing over him in waves.

  “Go ahead ye cowardly, craven bastard,” Colin roared.

  Straining, veins bulging in his arms and neck, Colin ground out, “Fucking strutting peacock, ye can’t even fight me like a man. Ye come at me to kill me when I’m chained to a bloody wall? I. Curse. Ye. I. Curse. Abigail. May ye both rot in hell with nary a day of peace for the rest of your miserable lives. Well, go on then, do it.”

  Colin didn’t flinch as his brother came running towards him, dagger held out straight in front—tensing, he waited for the blow. The blade glanced off, carving a bloody ribbon across his chest.

  “That all ye’ve got? Ye wouldn’t last a minute in battle, the English would rip you to bloody shreds.” Colin taunted his brother. He knew how tough and resisting skin was, it wasn’t easy to stab someone.

  Hamish’s eyes were round with fear. Colin watched him wrap both hands around the dagger, cock his arms back ramming the blade into Colin’s chest

  He couldn’t breathe as the metal bit into him, taking his lifeblood. Gasping for breath, he narrowed his eyes, watching his brother, noting the shaking arms, the sweat dripping from his brow as Hamish leaned hard on the blade, straining, grunting, as slowly, inch by inch the dagger slid deeper into his chest until it stopped—hitting bone.

  Hamish paled, his entire body quivering with the strain as he rocked back on his heels, and with a mighty shove Colin heard a crack, bone splintering as the dagger found its mark—straight into his heart. He dimly saw Hamish retching, wiping his arm across his mouth, putting his head between his knees to breathe so he wouldn’t pass out—it was a common bodily reaction the first time you killed someone. His heart slowed down, the strong beats becoming weaker, skipping erratically.

  “It’s my time now, brother. My turn to be baron!” Hamish yelled.

  The buzzing in Colin’s brain took over, his body shutting down, heart failing, breath coming in labored gasps, Hamish’s voice fading out.

  “Rawlins, have this bloody, revolting mess cleaned up.” Turning on his heel as Colin shuddered, taking his last wheezing breath, blood slowly dripping on the damp stone floor; Hamish slid the ancient ring bearing the Campbell family crest off Colin’s finger. He wiped the bloody ring clean on Colin’s kilt before sliding it onto his finger and fled the dungeon.

  Darkness was closing in, the roaring in his head subsiding. Colin could hear Hamish talking to someone, a woman—it couldn’t be—Abigail come to see him die. He would never trust another, never let another get close to him, and never fall in love again. The pain was intense, scorching its way through his heart, encasing the shriveled black lump in ice. Hamish and Abigail’s voices receded, his eyesight failed him—no, not yet—Hamish will destroy everything I’ve built. There are families depending on me, those who need me. I canna go, not now.

  As he faded, the noise took over—like a winter thunderstorm, waves crashing against the rocks and one final dying thought screamed its way through his mind and burst forth, “Damn it to hell. I. Won’t. Die.”

  The shadows came, sliding around the floor and slithering up the walls to swallow Colin. His dying soul fought, screaming out for more time, for another chance, for retribution. Filled with rage, he looked down upon his limp, earthly body. Through the mist and shadow, Colin saw lightning beckoning in the darkness, heard a whisper within the maelstrom—offering him a choice.

  Chapter 1

  Present Day

  Friday, October 30th

  Edinburgh, Scotland

  “How about touring Mary King’s Close, then the South Bridge Vaults? The Close is supposed to be the best-known, most haunted of them all on the Royal Mile. Who knows, maybe we’ll see Annie, the little girl who was killed during the Plague when they walled up the Close with people inside. It’ll be spooky fun. Old buildings, dark, dank, falling apart, what’s not to love?”

  Emily’s eyes lit up at Kat’s suggestion. Breathing deeply, the air smelled crisp and brisk with a full moon trying to break through the clouds as a light drizzle fell on Old Town. Edinburgh seemed eerie with its cobblestone streets, tall medieval buildings so close at the top, the neighbors could reach out and touch each other, and shadows dancing on the streets, playing hide and seek with the moon as the sky darkened to indigo.

  Looking around the old street, mist rising up from the cobblestones, curling around the buildings, the hair on the back of Emily’s neck rose, as if unseen hands in the mist caressed her. Shivering in the chilly air, the fog rolling in, she couldn’t believe she was actually here.

  Back in the third grade, in Charleston, a boy named Dougal, from the Isle of Skye, off the coast of Scotland regaled her with fantastic tales of his homeland. His voice, the way he spoke, rolling his r’s, entranced her as she dreamed of warrior princes in a faraway land. When he moved away it broke her heart. Ever since then she’d fantasized about visiting the country. Wandering around the city, exploring the stone circles, all the moldy old castles, and historic buildings, she could barely contain herself from running up and down the street shouting with joy at finally achieving her dream.

  Standing with hands on her hips, one eyebrow cocked, Katherine “Kat” Chandler was five foot seven, same as Emily, though Kat had long auburn hair showcasing a gorgeous creamy complexion topped off by piercing blue eyes. Red boots, jeans, a turquoise sweater, and an indigo scarf, topped off with a shocking pink coat complemented her striking looks. Sometimes Emily wondered if she needed sunglasses when she was around Kat. The girl always wore bright clothes, carrying an infectious laugh and smile to go with them. Emily didn’t care if sh
e faded into the woodwork when she was with Kat. She preferred to be in the background rather than center stage.

  Her best friend’s outfit contrasted with Emily’s worn, faded jeans, grey hoodie, black boots, and sensible, black pea coat. A silk scarf in shades of blue and gray which deepened the gray in her eyes, wrapped around her messy brunette updo, provided a hint of color. The two of them were like male and female birds. The brightly colored male eclipsing the drab female was how the two of them looked standing next to each other. Shrugging, Emily realized Kat was talking to her. She’d been having a hard time concentrating since the accident.

  Eyes crinkling, a huge grin across her face, Kat snorted, “Seriously, earth to Emily. I promise to ask any ghosts we encounter to scare Charlie to death, just go on the tour with me, hon. Please?”

  Kat could always make her laugh until she cried…heaven knows she needed to giggle and have fun. They were spending two whole weeks in Scotland after Emily’s last boyfriend, who was supposed to be The One, Charlie, a.k.a. the overgrown frat boy, almost killed her nearly three months ago.

  “I am so over jerks treating women like disposable razors. Use one up; throw her away, on to the next.” Blowing bangs out of her eyes, Emily huffed. “I’ve had it with guys pretending to be caring and sensitive when all they really want is to screw anything with two legs and a pulse.”

  The rat bastard was sexting Candy and driving while she herself was sitting right next to him in the passenger seat of the tiny BMW. What kind of a name was Candy anyway? Should have been the first clue. Some good friend she turned out to be. With friends like that who needs enemies? It happened so fast. One minute driving along, the next, Charlie lost control of the car, crashing into a tree. The car rolled on its side into the stream trapping her in the icy water.

  The next thing Emily knew, she came to, screaming in the ambulance on the way to Mercy Hospital. Still couldn’t believe she had been declared clinically dead for eight minutes before they revived her. Someone must have been watching over her. Gotta love modern medicine. Charlie was basically unharmed, sporting a few cuts and bruises. Emily suffered the worst of the accident, sustaining a broken leg, broken nose, a punctured lung, and broken rib along with numerous cuts from the tree branches. Rehab had gone well. Thank goodness she was healthy and healed quickly, though she still tired easily. The doctors told her it would take a few months before she was back to normal.