Dirk Strider Shades Novels & Stories

No copyright infringement is intended. P.S— THIS IS THE BOOK TWO OF BOOK ONE— DIFFERENT SHADES OF HIM. ENJOY AND LET ME KNOW IF YOU DO. THANK YOU!

The city lights stretch out below me like a sea of fake gold, but my eyes are locked on the dark silhouette of the Moonshade Atelier rising in the distance. Tristan Blackmoor thinks he can burn my work, frame my ghost name, and force me back into his pack chains. Seraphina Duskryn thinks she can use my old codes to start a war between the syndicates. They don't know who they're playing with. I pull the throttle back, the engine screaming under me as I slice through the dark. My hand tightens around the grip of the silver dagger tucked into my belt. Suddenly, my burner phone vibrates violently inside my inner pocket.

Before I allow darkness to take over, the sounds of Vittorio's deep lullabies echos through the device. I remember that in my dream, Nathanial is in his teens. He is hugging someone goodbye, with his mark glowing underneath his wrist.

Shade. Once again, Amilia had come face to face with the Shade. It was different from Strays, Amilia knew that. She should fight it off. She had done it once. Only now, she had no weapon and no Fallen to save her. But she was quick enough to evade its claw when the Shade struck. Amilia rolls down until she hit the brick wall that separates the lake from the pavement.

When I had been around Dimitri, I had felt a darkness within him that had become like a shadow within my mind, to the point I thought I was seeing things. As I looked at Stryker though and focused on what he was feeling, I thought I saw a light spread over him. It was a soft silver glow, like an aura that was visible to the naked eye. I knew I wasn’t seeing auras, as it wasn’t something I could do. I didn’t know what the light was, but it was the polar opposite of what I had experienced with Dimitri. Its presence was strong and demanding, making me want to hold onto that light with everything I had. I could understand why he had such a light, for he was genuinely good.

"You saw those shadows, right? Those are from you. You are supernatural, just like the man you encountered earlier in the marketplace." "No. I must be dreaming, right? I am still trapped in that dream with the shadows. I just need to wake up completely—" "Ah, right, the dream. Everything you saw there is the reality, everything really happened. It is proof that your ability has been activated. Those shadows were your eyes. What you underwent during those two weeks of unconsciousness is the process called shading. The shading usually lasts for months but your record shocked us. The shading allows your body to completely integrate your ability called Nyx and for you to overcome it in less than

The whispers around the chamber grew into a cacophony of screams. The mirrors rippled like water, and dark, wraithlike figures stepped out, their forms shifting and indistinct but their intent clear. “Shades,” Ellara said, her voice taut. “They feed on doubt and despair. Be careful!” The shades lunged, their movements erratic and lightning-fast. Zoe ducked under one’s swipe, her claws glowing with Aetherian energy as she counterattacked. The shade let out an unearthly shriek as her strike connected, dissipating into smoke.

“Try boneblossom instead of shadowroot.” Why did he know that? She didn’t even hear him approach until his voice was beside her—low, casual, like he hadn’t been watching her the entire time. “You going to stare at it until it evaporates?” Sierra looked up—and there he was. Malick. Leaning just close enough to be noticed, not enough to be obvious. His shirt was a little wrinkled from leaning over the cauldron, the cuffs faintly scorched. Shadows curled lazily beneath his sleeves, like smoke stretching toward warmth.

A nice silver chain hung around his neck. Cartier sunshades, a Rolex watch, and a pair of nicely tailored pants hugged his legs and were tucked smoothly into big black boots, finishing off his appearance. His short mop of auburn curly hair showed that he was a ginger. A tall, lanky, well-built ginger. So gorgeous. The door of his Ferrari was raised up like a wing of a bird, and he stood beside it, scrolling through his phone. As if noticing my stare, his head shot up and he saw me.

It was clear, well-lit, and taken somewhere I've never come across. Four men stood, side by side, none facing the camera. Even though they weren't facing the camera, you could see what needed to be seen. One face. Four times. It was Drey, but not Drey. My brain and eyes didn't know how to put it at first. It felt like I was seeing Drey in four different faces. They look exactly the same but in different appearances. Like I was staring at the four shades of Drey. My hand started shaking before I felt it happening. The phone trembled in my grip but Victoria reached out and took it back, carefully, like she was removing something fragile from someone who couldn't be trusted with it.