Read Shadow Hunt for Free Online Page A

with a central plaza, similarly white, but with a scorched center.
    Ellie inclined her head over her shoulder. “The Seminary?”
    Cam came to her side. “I see Shadow and trees, and if I don’t try to look too hard, the occasional movement of a fae.” A sigh, long in coming. “You should know that I saw Slight while Mathilde was playing her little game.”
    Ellie turned to face Cam fully. “And you had to let him go because of me.”
    Cam looked down at her. “He was playing the game too—you know, come-and-get-me. He can’t hide from the puny humans for long without losing face. Sooner or later, tonight or tomorrow, we’ll meet.”
    Ellie was wondering who the “we” included—something in the delivery seemed to exclude her. Only Cam and Slight, then.
    “Just so we’re clear, I’m not hiding either.” No matter what Mathilde could do. The fact of the matter, which Cam had up until now ignored, was that no one was invincible. No one completely safe. Mathilde had proved that by controlling Ellie’s wild and unstoppable shadow. Well, by extension, Mathilde had to have a weakness too. And Ellie intended to find it. And if that woman tried anything else, Ellie would exploit it.
    Cam’s black eyes looked tired, but he nodded. “I think I got that.”
    Now they were making progress. “Well then, how about we dress for dinner, meet them head-on, and take no prisoners.”
    “At a fancy dinner?” Cam was trying for a smile.
    So Ellie gave him one back. “Why not?”
     
     
    Martin’s table was like nothing she’d ever seen. Lavishly set, each place held a central gold plate surrounded by satellite dishes, as well as no less than eight utensils and three crystal glasses varying slightly in stem and breadth of cup, all on crisp white linen. The table was headed at either end by Gunnar and Mathilde, who was taking her absent mother’s place. They were surrounded by seated men in trim tuxedos and women in simple, glittering gowns, each mage with a straight back, careful black eyes, and an inscrutable expression—nothing remotely like Marcie’s dinners at Segue.
    At Segue folks showed up in everything from sweats to lab coats—basically what they’d been wearing when their work was interrupted by the thought that something good was cooking in the kitchen.
    Food made Ellie think of Marcie, when she’d been trying so hard not to.
    Once—a lump formed in her throat—once, a couple months ago, the food never even made it to the big table in the dining hall. Everyone helped themselves and leaned on the kitchen walls debating what the blockbuster release of Shadow in Sin City got right and wrong about magic, and the merits of consulting with Hollywood so that the basics would at least be correct. Marcie had mused that “consulting” would get her close to a certain actor with a well-documented six-pack, and so she had humbly volunteered for the task, seeing as how she knew more about Shadow than anyone since she got bits and pieces from all the departments.
    Had Marcie been scared? Ellie blinked back sudden tears and kept her mourning shadow tucked deep inside.
    Gunnar and Mathilde didn’t deign to introduce them to the other guests. One or two black gazes flicked their way, but otherwise everyone took their cues from them and did not acknowledge the humans in their midst.
    The soup had to be a vichyssoise, served chilled, the scent of leeks mildly pungent and savory, which Ellie could identify only because Cam had once taken her to a nice French restaurant on a date. The soup was ladled by a servant with washed-out blue eyes—therefore, a human—who kept his gaze on his work, his head otherwise bowed. Which reminded her that she was angry. And that she would never bow her head here. When the server finished and spoons dipped low, Ellie spoke.
    “Do any of you happen to know a mage by the name of Slight? We were told that we might meet him here.”
    The spoons, each held delicately in a mage’s hand,