Shadows

by Paula Weston

Its blade is long and slightly curved, like Daisy’s—and the one in my dream.

  I try to shake the tension from my limbs. The bronze door is fully open now, but there’s only darkness on the other side. I test the weight of the sword. It’s lighter than I thought it would be. The leather hilt feels vaguely familiar against my palm. I’ve dreamed about fighting with a sword like this almost every night for a year. I know how to grip it, maybe even how to use it. For a heartbeat, I think I might be okay.

  And then I see what shuffles out of the darkness into the cage.

  LIKE RIDING A BIKE

  It’s a hellion.

  With yellow eyes and leathery skin. A head disfigured by lumps. Long muscular arms and bony fingers, talons for fingernails. It’s more than seven-foot tall.

  And it’s so much more terrifying that those in my dream.

  The hellion stops a few steps beyond the door. Its thick nostrils flare. It smells me.

  My legs dissolve. Somehow I keep my feet.

  ‘Just take the head,’ Daisy says quietly from outside the cage.

  I give a short, hysterical laugh. I can’t swallow.

  The hellion’s misshapen ears prick up at the sound of my voice. It gives a deep, throaty snarl, baring long teeth.

  I stagger back against the wire mesh of the cage, my heart hammering against my ribs.

  ‘You have the advantage,’ Daisy says. ‘It’s unarmed.’

  I’m still staring at those teeth, unconvinced.

  ‘Didn’t Rafa teach you anything?’

  I shake my head, afraid to take my eyes off it. ‘Can it shift?’

  ‘Not without help. It’s one of Zarael’s brainless foot soldiers. Be glad it’s not a demon.’

  I don’t care that I don’t know who, or what Zarael is, or that there’s a difference between hellions and demons. I’m too busy remembering to breathe.

  The hellion is taking in Daisy, Malachi, Taya and Daniel. It’s not quite as brainless as Daisy wants me to believe. Those yellow eyes fix on me again and my breath shortens. The stench of sweat and sawdust is choking me.

  ‘Don’t get pinned against the cage.’ Daisy nudges me through the wire. ‘Always have room to move.’

  The hellion snarls again, louder this time. I turn side-on and grip the sword with both hands. I inch towards the middle of the cage, blood rushing in my ears.

  The hellion lowers its head and charges.

  The floor vibrates as it thunders towards me. I raise the tip of the sword.

  Oh, fuck. I roll my wrists and sweep the blade back and forth through the air. It’s halfway across the cage.

  What did I do in the dream? It’s almost on me. Come on, come on…think…And then I remember.

  I throw myself sideways, at the same time slashing at its heel. The blade finds flesh, and it takes all my strength to hang on to the hilt as the hellion stumbles, roaring in pain. My knees hit the hard floor. I pull back on the blade. It comes free, along with a gush of thick, dark fluid. The hellion hits the chain wire, and spins around, snarling. It tests its injured foot, throws its head back and roars again.

  I’m on my feet. If I can hamstring the other leg, force the hellion to its knees, maybe I can take its head off. I flinch. Who am I kidding? Take its head off? I can’t even set a mousetrap at the bungalow.

  It snarls. And charges again.

  I will myself to stand still. Wait…Wait… Now. I dive to the left. As soon as my feet leave the ground, a searing pain rips along my side. I bury the blade in its thigh before I meet the sawdust. This time, though, I can’t hold on to it.

  The ground shakes when the hellion falls. I try to sit up, but my body hurts like the hellion’s claws are still in me. I probe below my ribs. Everything there is wet and torn.

  Unarmed, my arse.

  We both lie there, me whimpering and it snarling. And then the hellion wrenches the blade out of its leg and hurls it across the cage. It may as well be in the next room for all the chance I have of getting to it. My limbs are lead and every old injury hurts. My leg, my ribs, even the wound on the back of my neck. All throbbing in time with my heart.

  ‘Get the sword!’ Daisy yells at me. Her voice is strange, distant.

  The hellion is sitting up now, slumped against the side of the cage, watching me. Dark blood pools in the sawdust around its legs. Its slashed pants are soaked. I haven’t done nearly enough damage to stop this thing.

  I press both hands against my injured side. I’ll pass out in a minute if I don’t stop the bleeding. I put my weight on one elbow. My breath catches. I grunt and roll onto my hands and knees. For a second, I rest my head on the sawdust, catching my breath. Then I force myself to sit up, wait till the fluorescent lights wheeling above the cage settle and still. I grab the hem of my jumper, brace myself, and pull it over my head. A few ragged, nauseated breaths later, I’m still upright. I tie the fabric as tightly as I can bear. Daniel is just beyond the wire, his expression unreadable.

  A snarl pulls my attention back to the hellion. It’s using the chain wire to haul itself up. I have to find a way to stand. If I stay here, it’s going to tear me to pieces. I’m going to die.

  I swallow blood and fear, stagger to my knees. The hellion is almost upright.

  The sword is lying impotently in the sawdust by the walkway. The hellion looks from me to the weapon and back. It pushes off the cage and lumbers towards me.

  ‘RUN!’ Daisy screams.

  I take off.

  My leg jars but I keep going. The floor shakes. Nearly there, nearly there. I hear panting, right behind me. I’m not going to make it.

  I dive for the sword. Pain tears at my side—I’ve opened the wound wider—but I get my hands around the hilt, roll over and bring up the blade. The hellion has already left the ground. Too late it sees the sword. It roars, and then lands on the blade. The steel pierces its leathery skin and slides in. It slams its hands into the sawdust either side of my head to stop its fall. I’m pinned, straining to stop the hilt driving into my chest. I twist the blade. The hellion roars, and the sound vibrates down my spine. Its face is so close I can see the veins in its skin and taste the fetid stench of its breath. Its eyes flare with pain as I twist the hilt again, but I’m fast losing feeling in my arms. If the hellion collapses, its weight is going to crush me.

  I’m screwed.

  My arms are pinned, the hellion’s are free, and it’s just worked that out. Holding its weight on one hand, it grabs a handful of my hair and reefs my head so my neck is bared. I scream, but the weight on my chest holds all sound. Where is everyone? Do they want me to die?

  Razor-sharp teeth puncture the skin above my collarbone. White spots flare across my vision. I’m frozen, waiting for the hellion to rip flesh from me. But it’s not tearing at me. It’s…drinking.

  The bars on the cage blur together.

  My blood is pumping into its mouth. This is wrong. This is so wrong.

  And, oh god, it hurts.

  I close my eyes.

  I’m not human. I’m not human. I’m the offspring of an angel. The pulling at my throat. The sound of it. My blood. Nothing from hell should ever be free to feed from me. What makes me Rephaite? My blood.

  Is the hellion feeding on me for strength?

  But it’s mine.

  Warm blood runs down my neck and soaks into my shirt. I can’t feel the wound on my side now. My fingers are numb.

  Focus.

  I picture my heart, pumping Rephaite blood through my limbs. It has to be powerful. I’m meant to be immortal. I need it to pump harder.

  Heat spreads across my chest. Adrenaline.

  It courses through me.

  I tighten my grip on the sword hilt, feel my fingers again, and imagine drawing all that energy into my shoulders. I twist the blade. The hellion unclamps its teeth to snarl. I shove it as hard as I can, with everything I have.

  It lands next to me on its back. I don’t know who’s more surprised: it or me. But I recover first. I spring to my f
eet and jerk the gore-soaked blade from its gut. The hellion convulses as it comes free.

  I swing the sword hard and fast.

  The blade slices through the hellion’s neck—through flesh, muscle, tendon and vertebrae. It’s impossible. No way am I strong enough to do that. But the hellion’s head is no longer attached to its body. Dark blood gushes onto the sawdust. A couple of fingers on the beast’s left hand twitch, and its legs spasm. And then…nothing.

  I drop the sword and turn away. My body burns. For the moment the adrenaline is stronger than the pain. I face my audience. Daniel is watching me, his expression still unreadable. Taya and Malachi have stepped back from the cage.

  ‘Gabe?’

  I look across to find Daisy, her eyes hopeful. The pain is rushing back now, filling me.

  ‘Sorry,’ I say to her. ‘Just me.’

  And then her face and the wire diamonds of the cage are spinning. I pass out before I hit the sawdust.

  DROWNING

  I fade in and out. I’m rolled onto a stretcher and carried from the cage. I catch pieces of conversation.

  ‘Just let me shift with her.’ Daisy’s voice, tight and angry.

  ‘No.’ Definitely Daniel.

  ‘But she’ll take weeks to heal from these injuries. I don’t understand why you’re being so—’

  ‘Daisy, go to your quarters and stay there until you’re summoned.’

  If Daisy argues with him, I miss it, because I pass out again.

  When I next come to, I smell antiseptic. My body feels cased in cement and the skin on my neck stings like a bastard. Even through closed eyes I can tell the room is brightly lit.

  ‘I’ll guard her.’

  ‘No, Taya, you go.’ Daniel’s voice is close. ‘Tell the Council I’ll be there shortly.’

  ‘But there are no cameras in here. What if—’

  ‘Gabriella isn’t going anywhere.’

  ‘But Daisy—’

  ‘Won’t disobey an order.’

  Any further exchange is silent. The air beside me stirs. Taya is gone. The only sound now is the faint buzzing of a fluorescent light. Daniel must be alone.

  Fingers gently move hair out of my eyes. Daniel sighs. ‘I wish I knew what you did.’

  I don’t have the strength to move my head away.

  ‘I just…I can’t take the risk.’ He strokes my cheek with the back of his finger, slowly, softly. ‘If you really betrayed us, and I show you mercy…’ Another sigh, and then the touch is gone. A door opens and closes. As usual, Daniel leaves the old-fashioned way. Maybe shifting creases his shirts.

  I prise open my eyes. I’m in a treatment room. Stark white. Clinical. I touch my side, gingerly, to find that the jumper’s gone and the wound is bandaged. There’s a dressing taped over the bite on my neck. The pricks haven’t even given me fresh clothing. I’m sticky with my own congealing blood. And I stink of hellion.

  There’s a door across the room. A plain door, no locks or keypads. No voices or footsteps on the other side. If I can get over there…Can I even sit up? I grit my teeth, try to lift myself on my elbow. A thousand knives twist below my ribs. I whimper and sink back to the bed, wait for the waves of nausea to pass. My eyes close and I let sleep drag me back into the comfort of oblivion.

  I wake with goosebumps. My aching skin tingles. I’m not alone.

  ‘I’m so sorry, child.’

  The voice behind me is rich, masculine. Nathaniel.

  I stay on my side, my pulse quickening. The air in the room is cooler now.

  ‘This was not the path meant for you.’

  I swallow loudly, letting him know I’m awake.

  ‘Be still, Gabriella. Submit to me.’ His voice is like balm. ‘Let me see if anything has changed.’

  I should fight him. I should make this hard. But the memory comes, unbidden.

  Jude and I have raced each other up a steep hill and we’re standing, hands on knees, catching our breath.

  We’re in a vineyard in Monterosso al Mare. Every new place in Italy becomes my favourite, but the Cinque Terra may last. I love the fishing villages on the cliffs and the vineyards defying gravity above them. We’ve spent the last few days walking between villages, sometimes on the cliff tracks, sometimes through the hills.

  We collapse in the grass between the vines. The sea is before us. Usually, it’s flat, but today it’s choppy, and the sky is pensive. Endless clouds dull the multicoloured buildings in the village below. Jude stares out at the horizon.

  ‘Don’t hurt yourself,’ I say.

  He gives me a playful shove.

  ‘What are you thinking about?’

  ‘Nothing much.’

  We’ve been backpacking for over a year now, and lately he’s been drifting in and out of melancholy.

  ‘Are you thinking about home?’ It’s not something we talk about, but here, today, on the side of this hill, it seems okay to.

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘You miss the guys, though, don’t you?’

  Jude makes friends everywhere we go, but he had a tight group of mates back home. It was tough for him to leave them behind.

  He turns to me. ‘Sometimes.’ His brown eyes, so much like mine, study me closely. ‘Have you got any regrets?’

  I answer without hesitation. ‘No.’

  ‘But you left friends behind too.’

  ‘But now we’re living.’

  A gentle breeze lifts the dark hair from his face. ‘You know I’ll always look out for you, right?’

  He’s never said anything like that before. I’ve always known how protective he is of me, but it’s another one of those things we don’t talk about.

  ‘Likewise,’ I say. ‘Even when you don’t want me to.’

  He grins. ‘Cock blocking doesn’t count.’

  ‘Ugh!’ I shove him. ‘You know I hate that phrase. It’s revolting.’

  ‘And it still gets a reaction every time.’ His smile fades. ‘Seriously, though. I know I let you down sometimes, but never doubt you mean more to me than anything else in the world.’

  I nod, not speaking. The feeling in my chest is so big I can’t name it.

  ‘I’d die for you, you know.’ His voice is quiet. I barely catch the words.

  ‘Jude…’ I stop. Swallow. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘I just want to make sure you know that.’

  I do something I almost never do: I put my arm around him and lean against his shoulder. He is so strong, so permanent. I can’t imagine life without him. I don’t want to imagine it.

  ‘I’ve always known that,’ I say.

  ‘Whatever happens, don’t forget it.’

  ‘I won’t.’

  ‘Promise?’

  ‘I promise.’

  It ends abruptly. A tear slides over my nose.

  ‘Impossible. Gabriella, did you meet Semyaza? Did he do this?’

  I don’t answer because I’m too busy clinging to this memory of my brother. I know it’s not real but I don’t care. The weight of what I feel for Jude, these fabricated memories, they must be based on something.

  ‘It cannot be Semyaza.’ Nathaniel is talking to himself. ‘Too much power involved.’

  I want to see him. I know it’s going to hurt, but I roll onto my back. A low moan escapes my lips, and in the moment it takes to absorb the agony, Nathaniel disappears. There’s a flash of blue-white light and then there’s just me, and the empty room.

  I close my eyes as the air in the room stirs again.

  ‘Leave me alone,’ I whisper.

  ‘Ah, fuck, Gabe.’

  I know that voice, but I open my eyes, just to be sure.

  Rafa.

  He stands there, taking in the wreckage. A muscle twitches in his jaw. ‘I thought she was exaggerating. What the hell were they thinking?’ His voice cracks. ‘Hey, hey… Don’t cry.’

  Through my tears, I see he’s not alone.

  Jason is hiding under sunglasses and a bucket hat. His tanned face is pale a
nd his blond curls nowhere to be seen.

  ‘Is Mags here?’

  I shake my head. I know his presence is significant, but I can’t grasp why.

  ‘You done with this place?’ Rafa asks.

  ‘I’m sorry I didn’t—’

  ‘Just tell me I can take you out of here.’

  I answer by trying to sit up. His arms come around me, taking my weight. ‘Slow down or you’ll do more damage.’

  ‘I don’t care,’ I whisper.

  Rafa lifts me off the bed and Jason steps in to take the weight of my legs.

  ‘Just like we talked about,’ Rafa says to him. ‘Ready?’

  The door swings open and Daniel walks through. He stops in his tracks. ‘You…’

  Rafa tenses. I feel him hesitate. Oh, please, no.

  But before Daniel can gather himself, the room disappears, and the only noise is rushing wind.

  WAKE ME WHEN THIS IS OVER

  I feel it this time, the sense of being stretched and compressed. I bury my face in Rafa’s chest, and smell the sandalwood on him.

  It’s all over in seconds, and then Rafa is laying me on a couch, in a dark room that smells of old dust and smoke. We’re back on Patmos. The fire’s already lit, and blankets are piled up on the floor beside the couch. Rafa covers me and puts a pillow under my head.

  ‘This is why I didn’t want you to go there,’ he says, straightening the end of the blanket. The effort of healing my wounds hasn’t burned off his anger.

  I sink deeper into the pillow. ‘Can we argue about this later?’

  He doesn’t answer, but the line of his mouth softens.

  ‘Where’s Jason?’ I ask.

  ‘Over here.’

  He’s leaning against the wall, bathed in firelight. The hat is gone and his sun-bleached curls are loose around his shoulders.

  ‘Get some sleep,’ Rafa says to him. ‘You look like you’re about to pass out.’

  Jason crosses the room and crouches so his face is level with mine. ‘Are you okay?’

  My body still aches, but it’s nothing compared to a minute ago. ‘I’ll live. You?’

  ‘I’ll be better when we get Mags back. Was she there, at the Sanctuary?’

  ‘No. I don’t think she ever was.’