26
Eric
The main hall was decorated with rows of white candles. They’d been burning for such a long time that the wax was dripping onto the red silk beneath them, spreading out like liquid pearl rivers. The flames barely flickered, but the golden light managed to radiate the large meeting hall.
Shades, with their black clothes and dark hair, filled the room like a giant shadow. Tears came from many, but most of the guests attended out of respect, rather than loss. Everyone knew the three murdered shades, two elders and their daughter, but now we knew their human names too, Lewinsky. Whenever shades were killed or unconscious, they returned to their human form. It was uncontrollable.
My father reported their deaths to the police through the council. We didn’t know which officers were Dark members, but we knew there was a connection. In this case, the Lewinsky family died from carbon monoxide poisoning. The mother had neglected to open the garage door when she was heating up the car. No one questioned it beyond that, and one day later, we were throwing a memorial service.
I felt as if every shade was watching me or trying to avoid watching me. Everyone knew the truth, after all. The Light attacked to get to me, and the Lewinskys were the first in a list of many who would probably die.
“I hate funerals,” I said, fighting the memories of Abby’s. It was the last one I’d attended.
“I don’t think anyone likes them,” Pierce mumbled, chewing on a bite-sized sandwich from the refreshments table.
Camille cringed. “I cannot believe you can eat right now.”
Pierce stopped chewing. “Why?”
“Forget it.” She rolled her dark eyes and fidgeted with the sleeves of her dress.
Pierce met my gaze. “What’s her problem? PMS?”
I fought a grin, knowing Camille could sense our telepathy. She had a connection to my mind at all times. “Probably.”
“What are you guys talking about?” Camille asked, glaring at Pierce. He was always the cause of mischief.
“Nothing.”
“Whatever,” she said, reaching into her purse for a hat. It was black, and she rolled up her white hair, pushing it beneath the cap. She despised looking like a light, especially during such a time where the reminder could hurt someone.
Pierce gulped down his food and frowned. “Does anyone see our parents?”
Camille paused, and a piece of her white hair waved in front of her face. I looked around, searching the crowd, and stopped. “No.”
“Me neither,” Camille said, straightening up. She was supposed to know where everyone went; it was her job. “They must be having another meeting.”
I raised my brow. “Right now?” I asked. “Couldn’t it wait?”
Pierce stretched his arms out and cracked his knuckles. “Sounds like it’s a conversation not meant to be heard.”
I smirked. “Sounds like something we need to hear.”
“What are you boys thinking?” Camille asked, scrunching her brow. “If they don’t want us to know, we shouldn’t go.”
“We aren’t going to it,” Pierce said, unable to fight his grin. “We’re just dropping by.”
With another glance at me, Camille relented. “Fine, I’ll take you,” she said, beginning to walk toward the meeting, but I grabbed her.
“We know a better way,” I said, steering her toward Pierce. “Follow him.”
…
“Ouch.” Camille stumbled in the thin, dark hallway, and her black cap tumbled off her head. She cursed the secret pathway Pierce and I had found as children while exploring the shelter’s grounds. Abby was the only other person who knew about it, and she showed us how it led to the library—where the elders held most of their discussions.
“This is ridiculous,” Camille ranted as she tripped again. Being half-light, she couldn’t see as well in the dark as shades could.
I shushed her. “We’re getting too close for you to slip up.”
“Yeah,” Pierce said, blinking his glowing green eyes as he turned around from atop the creaking stairs. “If we get caught, we’re blaming you.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Camille said. “We’ll all get in trouble.”
“Calm down,” I said. “And stop talking.” Even if we were silent, it was very likely we’d get caught. Elders, especially my father, had heightened senses. He could tell if shades were talking telepathically, let alone in the same room as him.
We fell into silence as we walked through the thin space between the walls, glancing out the cracks to see where we were. In moments, we were right on top of them. Pierce froze, and I grabbed Camille’s hand to stop her from tripping into us. She held her breath and peered out a vent dug into the wall. The highest four elders sat at the round table with the exception of Luthicer. As usual, he paced.
“She threatened your son, Bracke,” Urte spoke as Pierce curled his fingers around the wood to watch.
My father leaned on his elbows. “I know.”
“But what could it mean?” Eu asked, digging his nails into the thick mangled threads he called his hair. “Her threats. Her words. She said—”
“We all know what she said, Eu,” my father spat. “The question is what we do about it.”
Luthicer tapped his long fingers along his black suit. “This Fudicia girl had more power than we thought,” he said, walking in two tight circles. “More knowledge too.”
Eu’s pudgy fingers curled into fists. “Do you think she knows about the third—?”
My father hit the table, jumping to his feet. “We will not talk about her in this council,” he said, pointing a shaky finger at the short man. “Not today. That is an order.”
“But, Bracke—” Luthicer began to argue.
“An order, Luthicer,” my father said, glaring at the half-breed elder.
Luthicer, instead of his usual fighting, nodded. Camille’s grip tightened around my hand, squeezing my bones together in what was supposed to be a comforting gesture.
“What do you suggest we discuss, Bracke?” Luthicer asked, sitting down only to stand back up. “It’s a possibility she came here to trick Shoman.”
Urte leaned on the wobbling table. “Trick him into what?”
Luthicer’s black eyes shifted. “Leading the Light to the third—” he paused when my father’s glare met his gaze. “With all due respect, sir, you need to consider this possibility.”
My father’s lips pressed together in a thin white line. “The Light wouldn’t inform all of their soldiers of the whole prophecy.”
“Bracke is right,” Urte said. “The Light wouldn’t risk giving that kind of information to their people. It’d be too risky; they’d ruin their only chance of survival.”
My body chilled. The Light had a survival plan? And the prophecy allowed it?
“I didn’t say they’d risk that information for just anyone,” Luthicer clarified.
My father’s brow fell, sending a shadow across his glowing eyes. “Then what are you saying?”
Luthicer cleared his throat, but Eu spoke first, “Fudicia is of high power.”
“That’s ludicrous,” Urte said. “She couldn’t be twenty.”
“And you suggest Camille is much older?” Luthicer asked, allowing his words to linger. Urte’s shoulders rose, and my father sucked in a breath, his face turning red.
“Fudicia is Darthon’s guard?” he asked, and Luthicer lowered his chin.
“It’s a high possibility.”
My father rubbed his temples, and his hair stood up toward the ceiling. “There has to be other explanations,” he said, so quietly that I barely heard him.
“Think about it, sir,” Luthicer said, sitting next to my father. “Fudicia attacked the community as if she were an inexperienced light and escaped because she knew we’d treat her as such.”
My father paled. “And I brought Shoman to deal with her.”
Eu kicked the table as he stood. “She could be tracking him.”
My father curse
d. “Their plan worked better than they even planned.”
“We shouldn’t worry,” Luthicer said, laying his hand on my father’s shoulders. “Even with the reading, she can’t track him unless he uses his sword outside of the shelter.”
Eu huffed. “And we all know he’s done that before.”
Abby. Camille’s and Pierce’s eyes flickered over my face, but I refused to look at them. I needed to hear everything the elders said. It’d only been minutes, and I was already hearing more than I ever imagined. The prophecy was changing, and so was my guarantee of success. Even Luthicer had changed; he was defending me.
“Shoman is very powerful,” Luthicer said, seemingly a different man. “Sometimes I wonder if he’ll be too powerful for his own good.”
“His training is going well,” Urte said.
“But what will that do if the Light is aware of his weakness?” my father asked, and the room silenced.
My weakness?
“He could die,” Eu said, managing to speak before the others. “But so could Darthon. They share the same weakness.”
“And training will be useless if they find the third—” My father’s voice drifted away, and the room erupted into noise. Urte and Luthicer were the loudest, bickering inches away from one another, while Eu attempted to speak every few seconds.
My father remained silent. He was pale and his frown curled deeper into his skin. His mangled hair was as dark as his expression, yet he looked as if he were barely present. His eyes were fogged over, and he stared at the wall. His mind was elsewhere. But, soon, his blue gaze refocused, and his arm disappeared and reappeared out of the shadows as he hit the table.
“Silence,” he bellowed, his voice ripping through the library. His eyes landed on his red hand, and he rubbed it against his arm, sighing heavily. “We’ve discussed everything there is to discuss,” he said. “Find this Fudicia girl, and protect Shoman. That’s all.”
The men nodded. “The funeral should be ending soon,” Eu said, looking at the clock as he stood.
Luthicer moved to his side. “How is Shoman taking all of this?”
“Indifferent, I suppose,” my father said, his face scrunching up. “He’s completely emotionless. I can’t tell what he’s thinking.”
“Maybe that’s for the best,” Luthicer said, and my father shrugged.
“I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about,” Eu agreed.
My father shook his head. “It isn’t Shoman who I am worried about.”
The grandfather clock chimed, and I took advantage of the noise. I pushed past Camille and walked away from my friends, fleeing from our hidden pathway. I dreaded the sweat dripping down my face, fearing that one of the elders would hear it slide against my rough skin. It took all my willpower not to cough or scrape against the wall, and I knew Pierce and Camille were doing the same. Behind me, their coarse breathing was rigid on my chilled neck.
“Come on,” Pierce slid between Camille and I, sprinted ahead, and cracked the wall open. For the first time in my life, the light was comforting. “It’s safe,” he said, shoving it open, and we followed him out.
Camille slammed it behind her, and I pressed my back against the wall, breathing hard. Funeral goers rushed past us, and Pierce wiped the stifling sweat from his brow, shaking his head. “What the hell happened in there?” he asked, and Camille hugged herself.
“They lied to us,” she whispered, her black eyes widening. “Can you believe that?”
“I kind of knew,” I admitted, shoving my hands in my pockets. My friends gaped at me. “But I didn’t know the details.”
“We still don’t,” Pierce exclaimed, dropping his tone as others looked our way. “Did you even hear what they said? Fudicia could track you—”
“I’m not concerned about that,” I said, waving the thought away.
Camille raised her brow. “What else could possibly be important?”
“The Light wouldn’t have informed all their soldiers of the whole prophecy,” I repeated. “The whole prophecy…what did they mean by that?”
Camille fidgeted with her dress. “We know the prophecy.”
“Do we?”
She sighed. “The elders wouldn’t hide anything important from us, especially you, Shoman.”
I shook my head. “They talked about a weakness. I’ve never heard about it before.”
Pierce blanched, and he looked between us. “I was hoping you guys knew what it was, but didn’t want to tell me.”
Camille shook her head, and I mirrored her. “I have no clue what they’re talking about.”
“But it’s Darthon’s weakness too,” Camille said, and a group of preteens walked past us. She lowered her face and pulled Pierce and I close. “We shouldn’t talk about this.”
“Not now,” Pierce agreed.
I agreed, stepping backward. “Tell my father I went home,” I said, readying to transport. Camille grabbed my arm, shaking her head.
“You can’t just leave.”
“Tell him it reminded me of Abby too much.” I gave the excuse, feeling guilt for using my friend’s death to my advantage. “I have to go.”
“You better stay home,” she said, glaring.
“I will,” I promised. “I have to go think this through.”
Minutes Before Sunset Page 31
