He seemed a bit less grumpy as he nodded and began to shift and change. His body mass shrank down but I kept looking up, not really wanting to see how his body collapsed in on itself. I waited a few more seconds, since I knew this didn’t take very long, and when I looked down, a little mouse looked up at me with those strange, dark eyes, wrapped in layers of mysteries.
I crouched down and offered my hand. The mouse jumped in and I brought it up closer to my face. It was super adorable, with big ears and eyes. Were mice good pets? They must be, with so much cuteness in such a tiny package.
“So you’re a mouse now?” I said. The mouse squeaked.
“You still kind of look like a Max,” I said. Little annoyed mouse faces are even cuter, it turned out. “Half an hour. That’s all I can give you.”
The mouse held my gaze for a second longer, then it scampered off and wiggled its way under the door.
I stood folded in the shadows, waiting for any sign that he was in trouble. Laughter from the nearby street pierced my concentration, and I allowed myself to breathe. I didn’t have Clay yet, no, but I knew where he was.
He was alive.
And Ian would find him.
Which would take about half an hour. There wasn’t much I could do here. Maybe, just maybe, I could get a tiny bit better equipped for this endeavor. I grinned, glanced at the door one more time, and then slipped back toward the alley and the merchants, toward the passers-by who were busy with their conversations, toward the merrymakers and shoppers.
I headed back toward all the Traded who were not necessarily keeping an eye on what they carried. Folded deep into the shadows, I went to see what weapons luck would let me borrow this day.
#
Within twenty minutes, I was back at my spot outside of the door, better equipped with two more knives, one gun with only two bullets in it (thanks for loading up, there, buddy), one cheese grater—which could make an awesome weapon in the right circumstances—and also one shiny blue, very high-heeled shoe.
I wondered what had happened to the other shoe, pondering if I had somehow destroyed some fairy tale moment by taking the lone shoe. That thought amused me and I grinned.
This wasn’t exactly my best grab of weapons, but it wasn’t too bad, either. And there wasn’t any time to be picky
Twenty-two minutes. Ian had eight more minutes before I headed in there. I tried to focus and stay calm, taking deep breaths and thinking about the present moment. The blood flowing in my veins, the earth under my feet, the strength of my limbs…but I couldn’t help but think about Clay. How could I focus on anything else but my friend who was in there - hurt, unconscious, beaten.
I would hurt people. My hand twitched in anticipation.
Clay needed me, and I was out here with a high-heeled shoe and a cheese grater. Somebody would feel that damn cheese grater on their face.
Movement caught my eye, and the little mouse came into view, making its way towards me. Relief washed over me as I knelt down and put out my hand, wrapping the mouse in my shadows so that Ian could see me. The little mouse hopped in and I raised him to eye height.
“I guess you’re not changing,” I said.
The mouse cocked its head as though indicating that he couldn’t. Maybe he could only change so many times in an hour. I had no idea how it worked. I really had to ask him more questions next time he was human.
It would help if he was clothed, maybe.
“You and I are going to have a talk once this is over,” I mumbled. “For now, lead on, tiny buddy.”
I lowered my hand and he hopped off, heading back under the door. I followed and waited a few moments, hearing the latch give. I opened the door, the mouse dangling from a pin pad beside it, wires bit through.
I picked up Ian and brought him close to my face again. “Don’t get electrocuted,” I whispered. He gave a quick squee and I put him down, following him as he scampered across the room we’d stepped into.
I don’t know what I’d expected, but this wasn’t it. Plush carpet covered the floors. Wingback chairs were grouped to host conversations in each of the four corners. Bookshelves filled with old paperback volumes lined the walls.
I thought I’d be walking into some kind of warehouse district, or an old, cold, metal corridor. This was none of those things. I almost felt bad walking on the carpet with my boots still on.
I could see the trail of Ian as he made his way through the lush carpet. I followed, grasping at the shadows as I walked forward. There was an odd quality about the shadows here, and I realized that I couldn’t quite figure out the location of the light source. There were no windows, so it certainly wasn’t from that, but neither were there lamps, or lightbulbs, or any type of visible lighting mechanism. It was as though light just seemed to exist because it needed to. And that light made the shadows difficult to grasp.
I couldn’t hide in them as deeply as I wanted to. I still felt exposed, and I moved quickly across the room and out of it, into a grand entryway. A staircase made of marble led up to a secondary level, the higher floor lined with a beautiful detailed walkway across the entire perimeter. That same strange light emanated from everywhere and nowhere at once.
A rare shiver travelled up my spine. There was something off about this place, and it lay in the way the light and shadows danced.
Ian kept moving forward, not attuned to the shadows like me. His little body scampered near the ground, all sorts of adorable. I followed him quietly, crouching low. I wouldn’t usually feel the need to crouch, but really did now that I couldn’t properly hide in the shadows.
Ian didn’t go up the large staircase, rounding it instead. Behind the staircase stood an archway, covered in marble. It didn’t have a door and seemed inviting, except for the fact that it hid behind the giant staircase.
I crept in, surprised that it led to a sterile-looking room. Every inch of the room, from ceiling to floors to walls, was covered in impeccably clean stainless steel. And that was it. Nothing else graced the room. No piece of furniture or decoration to speak of.
The only comfort I found here was the obvious light source from two old fluorescent lights wedged in the ceiling.
Ian kept going, crossing the room to another set of stairs leading down. He went down the stairs, hopping from one to the other in a remarkably quick scamper (also: adorable).
The stairs led towards darkness. Whatever strange light had lit the first two rooms gave up here, as did the strange shadows. This darkness felt comfortable and known. I wondered if mice could see in the dark, and decided they must, because Ian still moved ahead pretty quickly, and I was losing sight of him.
I sped up, not wanting to call out to him and draw attention to us. Just because we hadn’t seen anyone, it hardly meant that no one was within earshot.
I wrapped the shadows around me tightly as I descended, feeling better for their comfort, like slipping into an old comfortable sweater. I now knew I was completely hidden, which made breathing easier.
The air changed in quality, to cooler and more damp. The metal stairs gave way to concrete ones.
I much preferred heat.
I’d lost sight of Ian, but there was really only one way to go, and that was down. After what felt like hours, I reached a concrete floor. I looked back, and saw no one following, or any indication that anyone would. I listened ahead, and couldn’t hear anything. No even Ian, but his little mice feet were pretty quiet.
I took a step forward, then stopped. Something didn’t feel right, but I couldn’t tell quite what. I glanced at the stone walls, and the concrete floor. It was completely dark here, but I could still see fine.
Maybe it was just nerves from being down here alone. This place was pretty creepy. It reminded me of the academy’s basement, and I had bad memories of that place.
I looked back the way I’d come. The shadows seemed undisturbed. I tried to shake myself free of growing anxiety. It was just bad memories mixed in with fatigue and worry. I pulled the shadows more c
losely towards me as I took another couple of steps forward.
And that’s when I realized what had been bothering me. It was the quality of the shadows. They were different. They were like the shadows that had been in the alley - like somebody else manipulated them and made them their own. Not in the way that I did, but on a much bigger, scarier scale.
“Welcome to my home, Ms. Misu.”
I whipped around as the voice spoke the words, but before I could act, a stifling cloud gripped my brain. The shadows turned against me, whipping away from me and exposing me. I grabbed the shoe and threw it where the voice had come from, thrilled to hear a curse as the shoe connected.
The shadows moved around me and blocked everything else from sight. I couldn’t pierce them, no matter how hard I tried. I hesitated, but decided to call them, to see if some would hide me. The shadows had never denied me before.
Nor did they this time. They came to me as soon as I reached out to them, and folded around me. For a moment, I felt safe within them. Then, something lifted me up in the air, knocking the breath of me.
The shadows were crushing me!
I pushed back against them, willing them to leave me be, but they obeyed a power greater than my own. A power intent on destroying me.
Chapter Fourteen
When I was six years old, my stepfather came into my bedroom, and I learned that I could fold the shadows around me. To him, I was gone. Vanished in the blink of an eye, nowhere to be seen.
I hadn’t realized I’d done that. I just didn’t want to get hurt.
I took a deep breath, stifling a cry, and he struck where the sound came from. He connected. The next day, I turned seven, and I was sent off to the Margrave Academy, without a goodbye, just loaded up in a bus filled with other kids like me.
Except they weren’t like me. They looked human, unlike me. And they mocked me.
I didn’t belong, even with those who were different than the norm.
I would never belong.
I grew sad on that bus, but the shadows didn’t wrap around me, though they whispered comfort at the edge of my mind.
Three weeks later, fighting lessons began, and nobody wanted to spar with the demon girl. Nobody but Clay, who made me feel like I could belong.
He was good. He loved fighting. We learned together. I grew more confident. Within a few months, I was getting good at avoiding blows.
Clay was getting great at giving them. And he gave one too many, some kids deciding to teach him a lesson one night.
Word travelled fast in the school. Always had. By the time I found them all, Clay was half dead, dragged outside the school where they could easily beat him. I caught them by surprise, threw a couple of our latest toy—smoke bombs—grabbed Clay and started to run.
But he was hurt and I couldn’t drag him.
“Leave me,” he insisted, his face bloodied under the full moon. I put him down near a tree, hid in its shadow.
“I won’t,” I insisted.
We were seven. We were scared.
And the bullies, also seven, came.
You learn fast when you’re terrified.
“Go,” he insisted, spitting up blood. I shook my head, hell, my entire body. I wouldn’t leave him, but I was terrified and didn’t know what to do. How to save my friend.
My only friend.
“I won’t leave,” I whispered as they approached, calling for us, not having spotted us there. Clay passed out. I held him. I closed my eyes, willed myself safe.
Just like I had in my bedroom.
And they passed us by.
The shadows danced around me, keeping me safe. It took me years to learn to work them, and fold someone else in them.
But they’d always provided safety.
Until now.
The shadows wrapped around me tightly, holding me suspended in the air.
I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t fight back.
So I closed my eyes. I was that little girl in a schoolyard again, under a full moon, in the shade of a tree, cradling her wounded friend, wanting nothing more than to save him.
I was that girl again, because I’d never stopped being her, and I was even more scared now, and my friend needed me.
The shadows loosened and gently put me down on the ground, folding carefully around me, as though apologizing for their betrayal.
But their care wasn’t enough as something struck me hard in the side, sending me flying into the wall.
“This could have been easier,” the voice said as the shadows engulfed me.
#
The shadows whispered to me, beckoning me back to consciousness. Or maybe that was just the sound of my body being dragged across the floor. Yup. That was definitely me being dragged, my head swooshing back and forth, making me a bit nauseous. My arms were somewhere over my head, my feet up where someone held my ankles and pulled.
I didn’t open my eyes yet, not quite remembering how to anymore.
That had been a good hit.
It took me a second longer to realize that my side really hurt. Not a little pain of “maybe I shouldn’t have tried to jump out of that window without first checking if it was open and landed on my ass,” but a feeling of “wow, someone really hit me in my ribs and I caught that blow full-on, and now I’m regretting my life choices.”
I paid attention to my breath as they continued to drag me. It came out easily enough. I didn’t think ribs had been broken, which was lovely.
After going through that string of realizations, I started to debate what I would do. Somebody was pulling me, or two people maybe. Hard to tell, as my eyes were still closed. I didn’t know if I still had any weapons, but I imagined that I didn’t.
I was a little bit sad about losing that shoe, though. I’d looked forward to seeing what else I could do with it. Not to mention the cheese grater!
My hands seemed untied, which was great, but also could be a sign that they didn’t see me as a threat. That was less great.
Just when I’d decided that it was time to open my eyes to gauge where I was, who was dragging me, how many were in the room with me, and whether I could escape, the movement stopped, and my feet dropped.
Unless I was mistaken, not that much time had passed. That was a little bit comforting, but not that comforting. I wanted nothing more than to drag the shadows back to me and vanish within them, but that particular comfort was no longer available to me.
I sighed and opened my eyes. Nobody was in my immediate field of vision. To be fair, my immediate field of vision was the ceiling. But it was still nice to know that no one was hovering over me.
I decided to risk sitting up, although my ribs throbbed and complained.
“We didn’t think you’d be joining us this soon,” a gravelly voice said, the same one from the corridor. I focused on it, Well, I tried to focus on it, anyway, slightly distracted by the room, which looked like a throne room. It was ornate enough to be one.
The walls were that same surgical steel, light seeming to emanate from it, with etchings all over it. In its center stood a raised platform, which I was now sat in front of. On it was what seemed to me to be a captain’s chair from one of those sci-fi shows, with some medieval stylings thrown in, like a tall back and stone.
I forgot about my hurting ribs as I examined it. It was big, complex, detailed, and the man who had just spoken sat lazily on it, obviously comfortable with his rank and position. Whatever those might be.
Several others stood by, obviously Traded. One had orange eyes, another four arms, yet another green skin. All of them were wearing black and armed to the teeth. They all looked very threatening and ready to step in between me and the man who I could only assume to be their boss. Maybe even king. I mean, he did have a throne.
I spotted my cheese grater hanging off the belt of the green-skinned woman, and narrowed my eyes at her. She grinned my way. Attacking her for a cheese grater didn’t seem like my best idea. Neither did attacking anyone here,
really. It struck me how many different looking Traded I’d encountered since leaving school, and yet I still always felt like I didn’t belong.
I’d have to think on that more later, when I wasn’t about to potentially be skewered.
I focused back on the man. He must have been about my age, maybe a little bit older - hard to tell. People age differently, after all, some markedly more so, I’d learned.
I imagined he was a Traded, but that was equally impossible to tell. There were no immediate markings on him to showcase him as much, but if so many mean-looking Traded seemed afraid of him, or at least willing to worship and protect him, he had to be one, right?
I guess? This world was damn confusing.
He was tall, wide-shouldered, with an athlete’s body. Warm eyes set in his dark face. No hair on his head. But he didn’t need any to hold the attention of everyone. He was dressed fully in black, which seemed to be the party color here. Between that and the obviously not-of-this-world Traded, I did fit in quite nicely.
I could make out no sigil or guild emblem on any of them. I tested my side and slowly stood, holding my hands away from my body as a gesture of peace.
“Hello,” I said. “This is nice,” I indicated the chair with my chin.
“Indeed it is,” the man said, seeming more amused than annoyed. I hoped, anyway.
“What business brings you here today?” he asked after a moment’s silence. I debated lying, but doubted that would get me far. Anyway, I knew from vast, vast experience, that I was a terrible liar.
“You’re holding one of my friends here,” I lowered my arms to let them rest beside me. “I saw you drag him in. I was wondering if I could have him back please. We had plans.”
“Oh, you had plans?” the man said, raising an eyebrow.
“We did,” I shrugged. “So, can I have him back?”
“Your friend,” the man’s amusement seemed to fade, “stole something of value. We’re trying to see if he’s willing to tell us where he took it, so that we can obtain it.”
“Oh,” I said, “did he realize it was of value to you? Because sometimes information isn’t very clear, so it might not be his fault. But I’m sure that he’d love to help you regain it, if it was something of yours to begin with.”
Hell Born Page 10
