The Cloak's Shadow Page 24

  Cecily swallowed a growing lump in her throat and nodded. He was right, this was the only plan that had any chance of succeeding. It meant a lot of pain for Callum, but it was unavoidable—which mean Zander didn't need to know the gritty details, even though Cecily felt certain she'd get the gist of it when she saw him. "Yeah, okay."

  Beside her, Trey looked on silently, quieted by the stress-thick air. Cecily opened her mouth to say something, though she wasn't certain what. But instead, the words caught in her throat as her stomach clenched with nerves.

  Trey was fading.

  A shiver ran up her spine, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

  Somewhere in the apartment, the Shadow was materializing.

  On instinct, her eyes went up to the far corner of the room. Sure enough, though the room was light, that corner was dark—and breathing.

  "Don't do this.” Cecily reached and took Callum's wrist in her hand. "I don't need this," she said when he looked at her. "I can deal. Don't do this for my sake."

  "It's not just for you," he replied, voice low, eyes grave. "It's for Zander. And for me, too."

  Cecily drew a breath, her chest so tight it felt like she was breathing through a straw. He was right, of course, like he'd been right, before. It wasn't just her who would benefit from the destruction of this Shadow. Callum deserved freedom. And so did anybody else this bastard of a Shadow might decide to torment. Still, she hated this. She barely knew Callum, but she knew she didn't want this for him.

  Drawing another tight breath, she nodded and let her fingers release their grasp on Callum's wrist.

  Callum stepped forward, his attention swinging to the Shadow above them, his brows furrowed and his jaw set in a hard line. "Hey asshole," he barked at the breathing darkness. "I was starting to miss you, you sack of shit."

  ⫷⫸⫷⫸⫷⫸

  It was cool outside, the sky clear as Zander stood on the edge of the parking lot in front of her family's apartment building. Above, assuming all was going to plan, Cecily would be giving her the signal she was waiting for any minute.

  This was fucking crazy, of course.

  But Zander pushed the thought from her mind. She couldn't psych herself out now, because crazy or not, this was real and it was happening—and Callum was relying on her to make this quick.

  She cast her gaze up at the apartment door, equal parts hopeful and terrified to see Cecily in that doorway.

  Still empty.

  Her research had led to one conclusion. If she could interact with the Shadow, she could banish it somehow—purify it, as Wren had put it—but there was only one way she could interact with it.

  Through a host.

  Callum had volunteered. And Zander had forcibly ignored the look of sheer panic on Cecily's face while he explained that the tattoos on his chest and shoulder wouldn't prevent the plan from working. They were there as protection—an extension of his desire for safety; he could still allow the Shadow in if he wanted to.

  So now she was down here, far enough away from the apartment, from Cecily and Callum to allow the Shadow to come through—but close enough to book it up the stairs in the work of a moment. Because, whether they realized it or not, both Cecily and Callum's expressions while they solidified this plan had told her one thing—letting the Shadow into Callum's skin was going to be hell for him.

  The familiar sound of the apartment door cracking open whipped Zander's head up, zeroing in on that doorway—on Cecily's wide eyes.

  Fear climbed Zander's ribs as she climbed the stairs and by the time her feet were on the landing, the fear was choking her. She passed Cecily and reached for the door but Cecily's hand on her arm made Zander turn back before she could touch the knob.

  "Be careful," Cecily said. Her voice was breathy with fear.

  Zander could only manage a nod in response. What was she about to walk into?

  Stepping over the threshold was like walking into a freezer. The cold grabbed at her; it gripped her chest and stung in her lungs.

  Wren said you have to purify it, Zander said to herself. The articles you found said only you can do that. So do it.

  Though she tried to hurry and her heart pounded a fast rhythm, every movement became a struggle, like her arms and legs, her very muscles were trying to pull her away, trying to keep her from getting too close.

  So when she stepped into the main room, it was in a strange kind of slow motion that she registered the scene.

  Callum's back was to her, bowed and hunched, his knuckles white on the back of the chair in front of him, the muscles in his forearms straining, his head turning slowly left to right, then left again. An uneven rasping echoed in the freezing silence; his heavy, struggling breaths.

  She looked back to the door, closed tight, and a voice in the back of Zander's mind rang crystal clear.

  This was a mistake. They were in over their heads.

  A force crashed into her. Thrown backward, her head hit the wall behind her with a sickening crack that rang in her ears, pain splintering out along her scalp and down her neck.

  A weight pressed into her, heavy and suffocating as a hand grasped her jaw, fingers digging painfully into her skin.

  She forced her eyes open through the pain, blinking stars from her vision. Her heartbeat stumbled.

  It was Callum's face mere inches from hers. His body pressed against her, his weight making it hard to draw a breath. But he wasn't there.

  His blue eyes were empty. There was no light in them. No life.

  "There you are," the Shadow growled in Callum's stolen voice. Then he lowered his mouth to Zander's ear. "He’s trying so hard for you.”

  Instincts clashed in her head. The smell of Callum filled her nose, warm and safe, while fear clawed up the back of her throat, tinny and bitter. Her stumbling heart took off at a sprint.

  She pushed against him, trying to unwedge herself, trying to turn her body to break his hold on her jaw.

  The Shadow wrenched her face upward, pushing her back into the wall until she could feel the ridges of her spine through her skin. “You’re a determined little thing, aren’t you?” it said like it was commenting on the weather, or a bug. It turned her head slowly, appraising her. “He said you would be.” He chuckled.

  A stark truth came to the surface of Zander’s rapid-fire thoughts as she tried to turn her face away but couldn’t manage an inch.

  They were alone.

  And she wasn't strong enough to fight him off.

  It brought a hand to her chest where Callum’s fingers drummed against her sternum. “You’re prettier than I thought you’d be.”

  A sob clawed up her throat but she swallowed it away, forcing it down. She had to keep it together so she could finish this. She was terrified for herself—but she was more terrified of what the Shadow would do to Callum. What it was doing to him.

  Oh god. What had they done?

  The pressure of his hands and the weight of his body disappeared and breath whooshed from Zander's lungs as her head fell forward.

  She forced her eyes up, unwilling to be caught off guard again. When her gaze landed on Callum, there was bleak light and raw horror in his eyes. Real Callum.

  He looked at her, and one word fell from his lips, "Run."

  A scene, unbidden, flashed across the screen of Zander's memory. Her father telling her to run and hide—because she'd be sorry when he found her.

  Something clicked, some lost determination finding her and taking hold.

  She'd hidden then, when she'd been little more than a kid—she would not hide now. If Callum could fight this thing, then so could she.

  Stepping forward, she reached to the sides of Callum's jaw and held firm, forcing his eyes to stay on hers. "I'm not going anywhere," she said. "You fight this fucker long enough for me to end this."

  She saw it when the fire lit in his eyes, a fierce determination furrowing his brow, his gaze fusing to hers.

  Sawing breath shuddering, a fine sheen of swea
t broke out on his skin as he gave a single nod. Then he ground out through a clenched jaw, "You don't have much time."

  Not wanting to waste precious seconds with words, she brought his mouth down on hers with such force one of her teeth nicked the inside of her lip.

  She knew the moment the Shadow had taken control again.

  A deep, sinister chuckle rolled from Callum's chest, the sound eeking out from between their fused mouths.

  Zander pulled back to find that leering, blank stare in front of her once again—and knew Callum would not return until this was over. She pushed him away with all of her strength.

  "You taste good," he said, stumbling back by a step and licking his lips, those shadowed eyes trailing her up and down. "Lysander." Shock speared through Zander’s pounding heart and the Shadow chuckled. “Of course that’s your name. You’re all so fucking predictable.”

  Zander felt herself sneer. She didn’t know how it knew her name, but she had to assume it had mined it from Callum’s thoughts, which only drove home how desperately she needed to end this. She had to save him. "If you know what's good for you, you'll leave Callum and leave all of us alone."

  The Shadow threw Callum's head back and laughed. "If I know what's good for me? What, are you gonna Scooby-snack me to death?"

  Anger and fear climbing in her veins, Zander had to work to keep her voice steady as she rode the wave of this new-found boldness. "I thought you knew what I am."

  The Shadow's confident swagger ceased, Callum's expression going from mocking to a dark kind of calm in the matter of a breath.

  "I know exactly who you are," he said, voice flat. He stepped closer and Zander had to fight her feet to keep them in place—to keep them from turning and sprinting from the room.

  But she couldn't—she couldn't leave Callum to suffer. "So then you know I can destroy you."

  The Shadow laughed again, stepping closer still, the sound of its laughter like gravel crunching underfoot, sharp and discordant—not Callum's laugh at all. He was on her now, his chest inches from hers once again. "The problem with your plan, sweetheart, is you'd have to know how to destroy me. Then you'd have to have the stomach to actually do it." He dipped his mouth down to her ear, his breath hot and damp against her skin. "And I don't think you—"

  The final word cut off, and his shoulders bowed.

  Zander backed away enough to see his bared teeth as a grunt of pain doubled him over.

  A smug smile pulled at her lips; Callum was fighting. He was still in there.

  You don't have much time...

  The Shadow rose to Callum's full height once again with a breath. He shook his head. "I told him to give up—but no. Sentimental cock-sucker, isn't he?"

  Before Zander could blink, the Shadow's hand shot out and grabbed her by the throat. "But I'm pretty sure you're who he's fighting for," he hissed. "He won’t like it, but if I end you, well... this will all go much smoother."

  Shocked, Zander tried to gasp, but she couldn't inhale. She clawed at his wrist, struggling to get air into her lungs. She tried to pull away, tried dodging to the side, stepping back—anything to get him to loosen his grip.

  But every time she moved, his grip only tightened.

  Panic lit under her skin. Her lungs burned, flexing, trying to inhale. Her vision dimmed. Her fingers numbed until she couldn't feel them, her struggle weakening, her hands coming to rest around the Shadow's wrist instead of pulling at it.

  You don't have much time... Callum had been right.

  The world quieted, and tears stung her eyes before rolling down her cheeks as she stared into Callum's face, beautiful but for the twisted expression the Shadow put upon it. Darkness appeared on the edges of her vision so he was ringed by an ever-thickening frame of black.

  A color blinked through the darkness, and for the flash of a moment, Zander thought of the books she'd read that explained the beautiful things people talk about seeing after coming back from death. Misfiring synapses.

  The colors swept again across her vision. It wasn't flickering as she'd first thought—it was bending. Bending, turning light, diffuse and opalescent.

  Blinking darkness from her vision, Zander pried her eyes from Callum's beautiful face to the oil-slick colors that were everywhere, surrounding her.

  Callum's face drew close to hers, cutting though the colorful light. "I always win."

  Another unbidden reel of memory flashed through Zander's mind of that same horrible night when her father had come home, drunk and furious—and threatened to kill her mother.

  I always win, he’d said. Remember that.

  Fury lit anew under Zander's skin, but the flame was snuffed out as soon as it lit. There simply wasn't enough oxygen to sustain it.

  Her eyes fell closed, and the Shadow chuckled.

  Help me. She sent the plea out into space, out to whatever higher being might be listening. To God, if they existed.

  She heard a ripping snarl, muted like her ears were filled with cotton.

  Then she was weightless.

  When she hit the ground, the shock of the impact forced air into her lungs.

  She gasped in desperate gulps that sent her coughing until she gagged, shaking in her skin. She could hear growls and barks, whines and snarls over the sound of her own choking, but her vision had turned white, and no matter how hard she blinked, she couldn't clear her eyes enough to see. Before she could panic, however, the white began to recede and everything looked as though she was seeing it through a sheer, multicolored curtain. Rhia was above her, protective. But the dog in front of her wasn't Rhia. This dog was huge. Fur stood from its body like gravity had no effect on the graceful waves that encircled it, following in slow motion as it lowered its head and a deadly, low growl issued through its teeth.

  Confused, and aware that her brain wasn't firing quite right, Zander looked past not-Rhia.

  Her clearing eyes caught on Callum—just in time to see his knees buckle.

  Immediately Rhia went to him, and when Zander looked at her again, she was as she'd always been. No longer the larger-than-life vision she'd imagined.

  Zander's arms felt like they weighed a hundred pounds each, her chest still aching, but she pushed herself onto her hands and knees and forced herself over to where Callum lay, groaning and moving like he was trying to get up with Cecily kneeling beside him.

  "Is the Shadow gone?" Zander asked as she crawled, but her throat screamed in pain and her voice came out in little more than a whispering hiss.

  Rhia returned to her side, dipping her head as though offering help, so Zander leaned on her as she crawled. She was shaking, though the effects of the oxygen starvation were quickly fading.

  By the time she got to him, she expected Callum to be sitting up. Expected him to say something to her. Instead, he seemed to give up his attempt to get up from the ground. He wrapped his arms around himself and rolled onto his side. Hard, wracking shivers shook his body where he lay.

  "Callum? What's wrong?" Zander wheezed, her throat lighting fire again.

  She put a hand on his arm—all the muscles under his skin were drawn tight, his forearms straining as he hugged himself. His eyes were squeezed shut, brows drawn down in a hard line while his gasping breath shook with the tremors.

  Oh god. What had they done to him?

  "He's freezing," Cecily said. Zander looked up meet her sister's worried gaze. "If you leave for a few minutes," Cecily went on, "I can get Trey—"

  "No." Callum's voice was low and strained like he was having to force his voice from his throat. "Zander stays. Shower."

  "Shower?" Zander said, looking to her sister. If that's what he said he needed, who was she to argue?

  Cecily gave a nod. "Yeah, okay. Help me get him up."

  ⫷⫸⫷⫸⫷⫸

  "Hey Cal, how's sunny Seattle?"

  Cecily paused, unsure what to say. Her heart was still pounding, though from exertion or fear, she wasn't sure. "Uh... Hi. I'm Cecily—Zander’s sister. Callum t
old me to call you. Assuming you're Scott."

  There was a beat of silence, then, "I'm Scott, yeah. Where's Callum?"

  Cecily drew a breath and paced deeper into her bedroom, leaving Zander and Callum in the shower, fully clothed. "He's curled up in a ball in the bottom of my shower, shaking," she said. "He told me to call if things got bad."

  "What the...fuck?!" Scott turned the volume of his voice down halfway through the statement. "Is this a joke?"

  "Not a joke, I swear," Cecily said quickly. As much as she wished it was. "He told me to call, so I'm calling."

  A bitter kind of sigh came through the phone. "Shit, hold on."

  Cecily could hear movement, like he was walking, followed by the unmistakable bing of the bell on a shop door. When he spoke again, it was to the backdrop of traffic noise. "When did he start shaking?"

  "Uh... I don't know..." she looked at the clock on her phone. "Five or ten minutes ago."

  "No, not how long—when? What happened?"

  "Uh..." Callum had told her to call this guy, but how much should she say? How much did Scott know? Her mind started spinning, a jumble of thoughts that were hard to sort out.

  Another sigh came through the phone, but softer this time. "Cecily, right?"

  "Yeah." Thoughts still spinning.

  "Cal told me about you before he left. You're Zander's little sister?"

  That got her attention. She nodded as though he could see her. "Yeah."

  "Okay," he said, his voice low and calm. "I know about Callum. You're not telling a secret. Got it?"

  Cecily released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding—along with tears she hadn't realized had been threatening. How had he known that was exactly what she'd been thinking? "Okay." Her voice shook.

  "Now tell me what happened."

  And she did. She told Scott about the Shadow, the plan to destroy it. About Callum volunteering to be the Shadow's host.