by Amos Cassidy
It wasn’t the most comfortable position to be in, but better than being in the creature’s mouth.
“Clay!”
The creature growled at Ryder.
“What do I do?”
“Get down!”
He was right. His frantic nerves reminded him of that, as did the image of his sister.
An idea struck him. “What if I can get this creature to fly me around?”
“Crazy talk.”
“Is it? It seems to like me.”
“Get down.”
“I can get a good view of the Shadowlands. Maybe I can find her, Ryder.”
“Look how dark it its!”
“The moonlight—”
“Get down, Clay! The moon won’t help! That thing could be taking you to a nest to eat you later.”
“Or this could be a wasted opportunity.” The more he thought about it the more confident he felt.
Ash wouldn’t slide off. Ash would ride the beast. The creature lifted its head into the sky and roared. Its wings flexed.
Ryder was running at the creature. “Slide off!”
The creature took to the sky, wings pounding.
“Clay!”
Clay could do nothing more than hold on for dear life as the creature took him up in a powerful ascent.
Ryder’s cries were soon lost on the wind.
ASH
People screaming. My head was pounding, my eyes burning.
What the hell?
I rolled onto my side and sat up. I was on the ground, it was cold. My head was killing me.
“Ashling? Ashling? Can you hear me?”
I knew that voice. Female . . . Nina. Ryder’s Nina.
My memories came rushing back. The hatch! The attack! The Reapers, they’d attacked me as I approached the hatch. I reached up to touch the back of my head where a nice round lump had formed.
My eyes adjusted to the light, and I locked gazes with Nina through the thick perspex of the quarantine chamber. “What the fuck?”
“You need to stay calm, Ashling. Just . . . I’m going to go get someone, just stay calm.”
Why the hell was she telling me to stay calm, and why the hell was I locked in the quarantine chamber? What was going on?
This was a misunderstanding, or maybe some kind of protocol to safeguard against infection form the Beyond? “Fine.” I offered her a smile.
She jerked back, wincing. “Oh!”
“What?”
But she was gone.
I paced.
I waited.
Under the steady throb of my head, my patience turned to irritation, which turned to anger.
By the time Nina returned with Blake and her father, Gerard, the real doctor, I was ready to explode, but I reigned it in because I needed out.
“Did you get the food?”
Blake frowned, then nodded.
“I need to see Clay.”
Blake blinked rapidly in succession. “Clay? Yes we can talk about Clay in a moment, Ashling, but first we have a few questions.”
“Okay.”
“Where have you been?”
I cocked my head. Was he being deliberately dense? “You know exactly where I’ve been. You authorised it, remember? I went into the Beyond with Bernie. I went to find answers and I got them.”
Nina shoved her fist into her mouth, her eyes filling with tears.
“Seriously? What the fuck is wrong with you all? What’s with the dramatics?”
Doc Jean turned to Blake. “Did you get any of that?”
Blake shook his head. “If she’s in there, she’s too far gone. She sacrificed herself to bring us some hope. The food should take us through the next year, longer if we ration.”
“But where did she get it?” Doc Jean asked.
Blake shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Look at the price she’s paid for it.”
They all looked at me then, fear and pity etched onto their faces.
“What are you on about? What sacrifice?” Did they know about the Shadow reaping? My deal with the Shadowlanders? Had I told them that already?
“So what do we do with her?” Doc Jean asked
Blake sighed. “The council has voted elimination. It’s too much of a threat.”
“What about Clay?” Nina said.
“Clay’s gone. He went looking for her, and I don’t believe he’s ever coming back.”
Elimination? Clay was gone? I lost it.
I threw myself at the perspex, slamming my fists against it over and over again. Nina screamed and broke down in sobs. Gerard pulled her away, his eyes filled with sadness. Blake moved, and I caught a glimpse of something behind him, something crazy and wild with red eyes, talons and fangs. I gasped and stumbled back, the monster behind Blake echoed my movements. The world fell silent and still, as comprehension dawned. I lifted my hand to my face and the monster did the same.
The monster was in the mirror behind Blake.
The monster was me.
***
I lay curled up in a ball. My heart ached. My head ached. My lungs ached. I was dying. I could feel it.
I was a monster and I was dying.
Dammit, Ash, snap out of it! This isn’t real!
Not real?
No, it’s real all right, but it’s not you. This monster . . . it’s not you.
I don’t understand.
You’re different, you changed. There’s a darkness inside you, so maybe that’s what they see.
The darkness.
Yes.
Yes. I was dying.
Don’t. Don’t die. Fight.
Fight? How could I fight? I was weak, so tired and weak. Every breath felt like a chore. They were coming to kill me soon, and I hadn’t the strength to fight, to convince them that I was still me. Clay, my only advocate, was gone, the only remnants of him a voice in my head.
I was alone. If only Cal had come with me. If only Daemon had come with me. He’d be kicking their arses right now. He wouldn’t take this shit! I chuckled dryly at the thought. He was so serious, so primal, so . . . reliable. I’d expected to be able to rely on Bernie, but it had been Daemon that I ended up leaning on. The crazy beast who could have killed me twice, had saved me on both occasions.
I was a Shadow Eater and I was dying.
Please . . . I need you.
The darkness at the edge of my vision tunnelled in, and I felt myself slipping away.
There was a crash, a scream, commotion that would have had me sitting up if I’d had the strength.
I felt myself being lifted. I was flying with the breeze on my face. I was free.
***
“I’m not a monster . . . not a monster.”
“No, Ashling, you’re not.”
I opened my eyes to see Avery looking down on me.
“What happened?”
“You almost died.”
“Is that all?”
He pressed his lips together to hide a smile that sparkled in his eyes. “We knew returning would affect you negatively in some way but. I’m sorry for what you were forced to endure. However, it may have come about, you’re one of us now, and a Shadowlander cannot survive on the other side of the Cusp. You are bigger than they are, more complex, more powerful than their human minds can comprehend, so they perceive you the only way they can; as a monster.”
I pushed myself up into sitting position. I was in my new room, the one that connected to his.
“How . . . how did I get out?”
Avery’s lips twisted in a dry smile. “My hermitic brother Daemon. He sensed you were in trouble.”
The commotion and the screams now made sense. If they saw me as a monster, Mother only knows what they would have seen when they looked at Daemon.
Served them right, the fuckers!
“Ashling?”
I didn’t mean that, of course. It wasn’t their fault.
Wasn’t it? You took them food and gave them hope, and they tried to kill you!
It was the not-me voice again.
I rubbed my temples. There was something else. Something important I needed to do.
“Ashling? When you were in and out of conscious you kept calling out for someone.”
“Huh?”
“Ashling, who is Clay?”
Oh, fuck! “Clay! I have to find my brother!”
COMING SOON!
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ABOUT THE AUTHORS
Amos Cassidy is the pen name for Richard Amos and Debbie Cassidy. Amos is a 32-year-old diva and Cassidy a 39-year-old mother of three—well, four if you include the husband. A common love of all things Joss Whedon, Urban Fantasy, and a tug of war over Jensen Ackles, brought them together, and one cold February afternoon, over nibbles and coffee, their partnership was born.
You can find Cassidy hard at work in her fortress of solitude, which has eaten up the majority of her garden, and Amos . . . well, he’s still trying to get the invisibility gizmo he got off a friendly alien in exchange for a pair of earphones to work. Funnily enough, he hasn’t been seen around much lately.
Frequent doses of sugary snacks, coupled with regular injections of caffeine aid in their production of a unique brand of cross-genre tales. They are always writing but are happy to take a break to chat to their wonderful readers, so drop them a line at amoscassidy.com, or just pop over to see what they’re working on, and they’ll bust out the biscuit tin.
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Table of Contents
TITLE PAGE
COPYRIGHT PAGE
DEDICATION
CONTENTS
ASH
CLAY
ASH
CLAY
ASH
CLAY
ASH
CLAY
ASH
ASH
CLAY
ASH
CLAY
ASH
CLAY
ASH
CLAY
ASH
CLAY
ASH
CLAY
ASH
ASH
ASH
ASH
CLAY
ASH
ASH
CLAY
ASH
CLAY
ASH
ASH
ASH
ASH
ASH
ASH
ASH
ASH
CLAY
ASH
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
