Shadow

Shadow was well aware that he was coming off as a strange little gremlin man, skulking around at night and wedging himself into some dark crevice to sleep during the day, but there wasn't much he could do about that. 

At home, he'd had his own room, his own things. He hadn't had to go to any great lengths to be alone. He'd had enough room to breathe that he could do normal things like read and play games.

Maybe he’d steal a book from Adin. Or, you know, ask to borrow one. He needed a distraction.

He sat up from where he'd been sprawled along the peak of the roof—

And froze.

A predator's gaze had a feeling all its own, and it had just settled into the pit of his stomach like a cold stone. He'd never seen Katrina before, but when his eyes caught on the woman walking up the street toward the house, he knew. And he knew she'd seen him back.

He swung off the edge of the roof, landed in a roll, and was through the back door before he'd finished scrambling to his feet.

"What's wrong?" Adin asked as Shadow shoved the door shut and threw the lock.

“She’s here.”

“Katrina?”

Shadow nodded.

“Are you sure?”

Shadow just looked at him. Whatever Adin saw on his face was apparently answer enough.

Adin drew a slow breath. "Okay. I want you to hide and stay hidden. Don't come out for anything."

Shadow hesitated.

"I know you barely know me and it's hard, but I need you to trust me and do exactly what I say. Hide. Don't come out, no matter what happens. Not until Finch comes to find you, okay? Not even if she's gone."

Shadow nodded.

A knock on the front door. As Adin turned towards it, Shadow was already opening kitchen cabinets, searching for one empty enough, before he crammed himself inside and pulled the door shut. Darkness. Wood pressed against his knees and shoulders. He made himself small—smaller—and pushed the familiar hum of his magic outward in a soft deflection. Look elsewhere. Nothing here.

The front door opened. A voice he recognised as Katrina's asked, "I assume you know why I'm here?"

"I assume nothing," Adin said. Calm, punctuated by a single unhurried beat of his heart.

“I want Shadow.”

“Why?”

"So that Luther might consider behaving himself." The sound of leisurely footfalls drew closer, shoes against floorboards. She'd entered the house. "He may look like a grown man, but you would never call someone who's been a human for as short a time as he's been a vampire an adult. He needs guidance."

"Maybe a few years ago. He seems to have found his way now. Move on. Make a new vampire. Treat the next one better and perhaps they won't run away from you at the first chance they get."

"I've tried. Three times since coming to this world. It didn't work."

“Does the process involve crossing the barrier of death?”

“When it works.”

“Then I’m not surprised it isn’t working. This world has no spiritual plane. Certain things simply aren’t possible here.”

"Hm." A beat of silence. "Then I really need Luther, don't I?"

“You have one chance to get this right. Whatever situation you create, you’ll have to live with forever. Be careful what choices you make.”

“Why should I care what you think?”

"I don't expect you to. Just as I'm sure you don't expect me to give you Shadow."

"Right now, you're on my bad side. This house is small. There are only so many places he can hide." A footstep. "If you want to get on my good side, you can help me. Otherwise…"

Adin's pulse had started to pick up. Still slower than a human's, but climbing.

"I won't be bullied."

"Right. And you're… some sort of deer man? The fusion of a human and a deer. Two prey animals. Terrifying."

“Humans are apex predators, not prey animals.”

“Depends on your perspective, doesn’t it?”

Adin's heart was beating faster now, as fast as a human's after hard exercise. Couldn't she hear it? Couldn't she feel it—the implied threat rolling underneath, like the pounding of war drums?

"Not really," Adin said, voice still even. "A bear might attack a human, believing itself to be above them on the food chain. It might well end up having that human for dinner. But is it really above them, if a whole group of humans comes back the next day and shoots the bear once they find out what it did? It was allowed to live only as long as it didn't bother anyone. The moment it did…"

"Very profound, I'm sure. But let's be realistic. I'm no bear, and a gun won't be enough to stop me."

Adin's heart was thundering now—so fast Shadow could no longer pick out individual beats, only a steady roar like rain on a roof. But when he spoke, he still sounded calm. "It's a good thing I'm not a gun, then."

A meaty thud. The clatter of a chair going over. Katrina's snarl, the collision of two bodies, something smashing against a wall—

Adin had asked him to trust him. To stay put. But could he really just crouch in the dark while this was happening? Shadow knew he couldn't beat her in a fight—he wasn't deluded—but maybe if he came out, she'd leave Adin alone. Maybe he could lure her out of the house, buy enough distance to hide before she caught him. Luther would have caught him in an instant, but maybe—

Shadow lifted his hand to the cabinet door. The crunch of breaking bone stopped him mid-motion. The scream that followed was pitched too high—not Adin's.

Two sets of footsteps moved toward the front door. The door slammed. When the footsteps came back, there was only one set, and they were coming into the kitchen.

Shadow eased the cabinet door open a sliver, pushing attention away from himself as he peered out. Adin stood in the middle of the room. His shirt was torn, his arms and chest scored with scratches. Blood that wasn't his own streaked down his antlers, pooling at the tines and dripping to meld with a thin line of red from a gash on his forehead. He wasn't looking at anything. He was just standing there, staring at the wall, his heart still hammering.

Shadow let the cabinet door ease shut. He'd been told to stay put until Finch came to get him.

He would.

#

Finch

For most of the drive, Malyn and Tyla played a language-learning version of I Spy of Malyn's own invention. If Finch had the ability to magically speak all languages, he wouldn't be learning shit, but he had to give Tyla credit for the effort.

Malyn, for his part, had more patience for teaching than Finch had ever known him to have for being taught. Finch had never gone to school himself, but he'd never hated education the way Malyn did. He'd let Adin walk him through reading and writing, basic maths, and then he'd scraped together the rest from library books and the internet. He was under no illusion he'd anywhere near made up for everything he'd missed, but he got by. They both did. Mostly because Adin handled all the paperwork and shit, but still.

The place they were headed to sat at the end of a dirt road that had jostled them around for the better part of fifteen minutes. Rural callouts were their bread and butter. If something was openly rampaging through the middle of the city, the police were usually on it quick enough. If you thought you saw something weird out past your tree line, well. They'd get to it eventually. Maybe. After a few more calls. After some missing livestock. After whatever the hell you'd seen had had time to settle in and make itself at home. Most people weren't keen on waiting around to find out what they were dealing with.

Finch parked on a patch of sun-bleached grass out front and fastened the leather cuff around his wrist. It looked kind of punk rock, which didn't exactly suit his no-parties-ever lifestyle, but he'd wanted something to cover the brand and the cuff did the job. His body armour covered it nicely too, but he hadn't wanted to waste the time suiting up before they left. Hopefully he wouldn't come to regret that.

By the time they got out of the car, the porch light had flicked on and a man stood in the doorway, squinting at them with an expression halfway between confused and mildly put out.

"Hey," Finch called as they approached. "We're here about the potential breach activity?"

“Huh?”

“A woman at this address called up. She said she saw an unusually tall figure lurking in the woods?”

“Well, I live alone, so I don’t know about that.”

“Huh,” Finch said. “I guess we got the address wrong? Let me just call and check.”

He dialled their home line. It rang.

And rang.

Finally, a voice mail service they’d never bothered to record a custom message for because Adin never missed a call kicked in and a robotic voice told him to leave a message.

Finch stared at his phone.

"Ah, shit."