I yawned, closed my eyes and slept.
I dreamt of the forest, of walking barefoot through moist, fragrant soil that pressed up between my toes. The air was crisp, fresh and sharp, clearing my head. This was my home. My sanctuary. I felt the love for this place swell inside my chest and rise up into my throat until it escaped my lips in a strangled sob.
My home. Where had this sorrow come from? Why was I afraid?
A shadow fell over me, but I didn’t turn to face it. Instead, I closed my eyes and tucked in my chin in submission.
Why wasn’t I running? Fighting?
I whimpered, wanting to wake up. I didn’t like this dream. I didn’t want to see what would happen next.
The air behind me whipped up in a frenzy, throwing strands of my hair into my face and knocking me onto my front.
It was happening. What was happening?
I wanted to wake up!
Hands encircled my wrists, pinning me down. A weight fell on top of me, stealing the breath from my lungs, and still I fought, crazy scared, not wanting to see, not wanting to know.
A bellow filled my head, and I was burning up, dying. Sorrow took me and I cried for things I didn’t know or understand. The tears burned tracks down my face and stung the corners of my lips.
The bellow morphed to a sigh, then rose in a whisper. “Wake up. Wake up, little human thing.”
This was a dream. Nothing but a dream. The sobs died in my throat.
I opened my eyes and stared into silver filled with a darkness that threatened to consume me.
“Daemon?” I was hot, too hot, and on his lap, wrapped in his arms. His chest rose and fell rapidly against me, his breath fanned across my cheeks, fragrant and enticing. His lips were mere inches from mine, perfect lips made for kissing. I leaned in a fraction on reflex, wanting to taste. His lips parted in invitation, and something primal flared to life within the depths of those silver eyes. My lips hovered closer, hungry, throbbing. He blinked.
“You’re awake.” He released me abruptly and I slid to the ground.
I looked up at him, heart pounding with the adrenaline of a moment lost, and mind spinning with ‘what the hell just happened’ emotions. He was doing that not-looking-at-me thing again.
“Sorry, bad dream.”
“Knightmare. I heard it born. It’s out there now. No doubt it will take some innocent life soon enough.”
“What do you mean you heard it born?”
He cocked his head. His hair had come loose of its tie and fell against his cheeks in silken strands. It softened him somewhat, made him seem more human.
“Have you seen a Knightmare?” he asked
Something flitted across the surface of my mind, an imprint gone too quickly to catch. “No, but I’ve heard about them from other Reapers. They vanished from the Cusp a few years before I joined.”
“They seem to be in short supply in the Shadowlands. I’ve seen a few, but they never stay long. It makes me wonder where they go.” He looked off into the distance, and I held my breath. This was the most he’d said to me since we’d met, and I was loath to end it by saying something stupid.
“Can I sleep with you?”
His head whipped round to face me.
What had I just said about not saying anything stupid? “I mean, it’s cold, so can I please sleep here by you?”
His chest rose and fell, and then he nodded, once, curtly, before turning his back on me and lying down.
I closed my eyes and exhaled. I was such an idiot sometimes.
I shuffled a little closer to him and lay back down, basking in the heat he threw. “Thank you.”
He didn’t respond, but the tensing of his shoulders told me he’d heard. I closed my eyes, and as I drifted back into sleep, I realised I wasn’t afraid of him anymore.
***
I woke up feeling surprisingly refreshed for someone who’d spent the night on a cave floor. My body told me it was time to be awake. In our pocket of reality the sun had been lost to us, veiled by a thick, almost perpetual overhang of clouds, and the moon had been taken. We told time by digital clocks and our body’s natural bio-rhythm. It wasn’t much different in the Shadowland’s. Aside from the benefit of a moon which seemed to be visible round the clock they too seemed to be ruled by darkness.
I ate some dried fruit from my backpack for breakfast, took a couple of sips of water, and was ready to go. Daemon was pottering around his bike, stroking the handlebars and the leather seat, leaning in and whispering to it.
It was plain weird, and I couldn’t bring myself to ask him what he was doing. I mean, for all I knew, this was normal behaviour in the Shadowlands. Maybe everyone had conversations with inanimate objects.
I glanced over my shoulder at Gundar, who was still asleep, sprawled on his back, ribcage rising and falling. We’d be leaving soon, and I felt kinda bad for him. Would he be okay out here in the Shadowlands without Daemon’s protection?
“Let’s go,” Daemon said.
I looked up at him, noting the backpack he had slung over his left shoulder. My eyes strayed back to the bike.
“We go the rest of the way on foot,” he said.
Gundar mumbled in his sleep and rolled on to his side.
“What about your bike?”
“Calypso can take care of herself.”
I blinked up at him, processing his words. “You named your bike?”
His lip curled. “No, she named herself.”
Was he taking the piss? I couldn’t tell. That bloody impassive face, those look-through-you eyes. I’d never struggled so hard to read people in my life, but then, I reminded myself, Shadowlanders weren’t people.
“What about Gundar?”
“Calypso will watch over him if he decides to stay another night. If not, then . . .” He shrugged.
“Oookay.” I got to my feet and dusted off my trousers. “Do I need to put on the outfit thing that Coralee made?”
His brow furrowed slightly as he thought on it. “Not yet. When we get closer.”
“And you’ll tell me when that is?”
His mouth turned down. “You’ll know.”
I sighed. “Fine, let’s go.” I moved around him toward the spot I recalled the magic doorway to be. His hand caught my upper arm and I stilled.
“We should go over your plan.”
My plan? I must have looked completely blank because he growled low in his throat.
“You have a plan, right?”
I licked my lips, and yes, I felt pretty stupid. Talk about rushing in without a clue. “Well, I thought we could go in, ask around, describe Bernie. Maybe someone saw Treagor bring her in.”
He nodded. “And once you know who has her?”
“Then we go ask them to give her back.”
He released my arm and moved toward his bike, Calypso. He shrugged off his backpack and loaded it back onto the bike.
“What are you doing? I thought we were walking the rest of the way to Inferna.”
“We’re not going to Inferna any longer. We’re going home.”
My blood froze. “What? No! You said you’d take me to Inferna.” I reached for him, grabbing the back of his jacket. “We had a deal!”
He spun, grabbed my wrists, and swung me round so I was pressed up against the bike. His face was mere inches from mine, those silver eyes glazed and impassive, even though his tone was anything but. “That was before I realised you were on a suicide mission. I thought you had a plan, a trade, something to get your friend back if she was alive. But, no, you intend to go into the most dangerous of the Tri-realms and ask for something with nothing to give them in return. Inferna is built on trade! The hybrids have no rights and the nobles can do as they please with them, and humans . . . humans are a delicacy, both to be savoured for their unique flavour and to be used for sex. You plan on walking in and asking whichever noble bought your friend to simply give her back?”
Calypso’s cool steel bit into my back as if chiding me for my
stupidity. I looked into his furious face and almost lost my nerve. He was right. I didn’t have a plan. I didn’t have a plan because no one had taken me seriously, no one had told me what to expect. I was running on adrenaline and hope. I glanced at my ink-covered hands; they looked tiny above his thick fingers, which were closed around my wrist. My hands . . . my hands!
“I do have something to trade!”
His silver eyes narrowed. “What?”
“My ability. I can offer to work for them. Surely they must have a job for someone who can consume shadows? I’ll offer to do a job in return for Bernadette’s freedom.”
“No.”
“No? What do you mean, no?”
“I mean no. No one must know what you can do, not yet. It’s too dangerous. You’re too new, we have no idea what you are. If anyone in Inferna finds out, then it’ll be you on the Trader’s block. Imagine what a noble would pay for a Shadow Eater.”
“So, what? I just give up? Turn back and forget about my friend? You want me to leave her to their mercy, knowing how she’ll be treated: a slave or worse? How can you ask me to do that? I know you Shadowlanders don’t think the same as we do. You aren’t human, so I can’t expect you to understand the meaning of humanity, but surely you have something that binds you? Honour? Some kind of morality? Love? Damn it, even revenge!”
His fingers tightened around my wrists and his lips hardened. He turned his head to the side so his gaze grazed my hands. “The markings cover your hands completely?”
Why was he asking me that? He could see for himself. I sighed. “Yes, my shoulder too.”
“I have some gloves you can wear.”
“Your gloves won’t fit me.”
“They’ll fit you if I want them to.”
This place was too weird. I rubbed my wrists when he released me, shooting daggers at him while he rummaged in his pack for gloves. He pulled out some black material and handed it to me.
“Put them on.”
They looked way too big, but I did as he asked. As soon as I had my hand in the gloves, they writhed and rippled and shrunk to fit my hands.
Cool.
“Done?”
I nodded.
He cocked his head, waiting for me to reply. “Yes, I’m done.”
He buckled up his backpack and slung it back onto this shoulder, and hope bloomed in my chest.
“You’re taking me to Inferna?”
He grunted.
“Thank you!” I gnawed on my lip. “But we still need a plan.”
“Don’t worry about that. I have something we can trade.”
“You do?” I almost threw my arms around his neck in glee, but his stony expression kept me grounded. “Thank you.”
He inclined his head and moved toward the magic doorway, slipping through to the outside.
I wondered what he had to trade. I wondered why he’d do this for me, and then I looked down at my gloved hands. Of course, he needed me, they all did. Avery, Jiva, and Daemon. They wanted me to be their little pet. I’d already laid my cards on the table with Avery, and if Daemon didn’t know the score than that wasn’t my problem. Once I had Bernie back I’d make my position clear once more. My help, on my terms and nothing more.
I squared my shoulders and walked out of the cave and into the moonlight.
CLAY
The critter was on him. It had six legs, gave off a weird green glow, and was biting at his ankle. Thank the Mother for the thick material of his trousers.
“Stand still,” Ryder said.
“I’m trying.”
He expected those pincers to break through the fabric at any moment. It really wanted his ankle.
Ryder got into position, wielding a rusted pole.
“Seriously, do not move from this moment on,” Ryder said.
Clay was as still as stone. “Do it.”
“Okay.”
Ryder narrowed his eyes, his full attention on the nasty thing on Clay. He raised the pole above his head.
Clay held his breath.
The wind whistled as the pole came down and the critter went flying off Clay in a spray of green goo.
Clay exhaled. “Thank you,” he said.
“No problem. There’ll be more, attracted by the scent this one gave off, so we best move.”
“Was it poisonous?”
“No.”
“What was the green stuff about?”
“That’s its saliva. It craves bone marrow. If you get a whole team on you . . . not a nice way to go. Come on.”
They were in the Cusp, following the lines that Ash and Bernadette had left—both taught and still.
“There’s no way they’re still attached,” Ryder said, taking point. “They’ve left them as a life line back to the Horizon, but at least we’ll enter the Beyond exactly where they did. Maybe we can pick up some clues.
“She’s alive.”
“I know.”
Ryder turned a little to look over his shoulder. “How you holding up?”
“My head feels hazy.”
“That’ll be crossing the Horizon. Does that to you the first time. You get used to it.”
“I still can’t believe I’m here.”
He felt so exposed, so vulnerable. Shelter was a shield, a shell that kept them safe from all that the Cusp had to offer. He really hoped they wouldn’t encounter another critter hungry for his bones. There were so many broken buildings, remnants from a time long ago. Everything was bathed in grey light, grim and empty—aside from the critters. He could sense the ghosts of the past. They were there in the dead streets, their essence in the brick work. Once it had been a place where people lived, where things happened, where daily routines took place. There were so many stories buried in the rubble.
Though this place was the last place he’d ever want to be, he couldn’t help but be fascinated by it. Who had lived in the houses? He imagined a woman at the window of the one on his left, two storeys up with a light on. She was combing her long hair, gazing down on the street below. It was night time, and there was a man looking up at her from the street, wanting a closer look. She knew he was watching and she liked it. He was calling up to her, asking her name—the beginnings of a potential romance. Maybe stuff like that did happen back in the day. He didn’t know why he was painting a romantic picture of such a dismal place—seeing it with flowers hanging in baskets outside buildings, trees with twinkling lights in the branches, people eating at little tables in the streets. He had seen something of the sort in one of Ash’s magazines once, so maybe that was fuelling his thoughts. No matter what it had looked like, that time was over.
“We need to be ready for anything,” Ryder said. “Once we cross into the Beyond, I’m as lost as you.”
Clay jumped at Ryder’s voice. His nerves were completely shot to pieces. One half was telling him to go back, that he didn’t belong out here. But the other half—his instinct and heart—knew this was the way.
I’m coming, Ash.
There was a scuttling sound from behind him.
“Critters,” Ryder said. “We need to move faster.
The sound moved to the side. This thing was quick.
They were striding faster now, one step away from breaking into a run.
“We should be at the Beyond soon,” Ryder said. “Just keep moving. Eyes ahead at all times.”
It sounded like another critter had joined the first. No. Not just one more, but several more—a chorus of dozens of legs in the dirt. Clay tried not to think about it. He did as Ryder said, kept his eyes straight ahead. Well, on Ryder’s large back at least.
The sounds were getting louder.
“We’re being hunted,” Ryder said.
“What?”
“Don’t stop and don’t panic.”
“Is it more of those ankle grabbers?”
“No.”
“What, then?”
“Just keep moving.”
“Ryder?”
“Keep moving, Clay.”<
br />
“We have to get to the Beyond.”
“I know.”
They turned a corner, stepping over piles of twisted metal and stone.
“There,” Ryder said.
Clay saw the lines tied off on a bowed and twisted lamppost. And beyond that was an ominous curtain of purple and black.
“The Beyond,” Ryder said.
The song of the critters was everywhere, and Clay swore he could feel the ground vibrating beneath his boots. No way was he taking any sort of breather until he was safely out of range.
“Just a little more,” Ryder said.
“Should we run?”
“Not until the right moment. We’re prey, yeah, but being running prey would make things worse. We need the window to be wide-open, can’t have them cut us off. It’ll be a brief window. Keep calm. When I say, we sprint.”
“Okay.”
“In ten seconds, run as fast as you can, straight into the Beyond.”
“Got it.”
“Ten . . .”
The ground burst open before Clay, cutting him off from Ryder in a spray of dust and dirt.
“Clay!”
The critter was huge and had ten legs. Its body was the shape of a spider, striped in black and white. A dozen black orbs watched him, pincers twitched. It was on its hind legs, the others dangerously close and looking like two rows of deadly scythes.
Shrieks filled the air, as did Ryder’s roar. Clay was blind to everything else. All his eyes could focus on was the monster before him.
He took a step back and the critter hissed. But this was no critter. It was bigger, a beast of terrifying magnitude.
“Clay!”
The creature hissed and leaned in closer. It stank of rot, and Clay felt like his bladder was going to empty.
“Clay!”
More shrieks, a sickening wet sound, some hissing and another explosion of dirt.
I’m dead. I’m dead.
“Clay!”
He couldn’t die here. This wasn’t how it supposed to happen. He had to do something.
Shadow Reaper Page 19
