Wednesday, October 1. Grove. Alive.

Lusa clutched the stone so hard her knuckles were white.

I leaned against the reassuring weight of the staff. My slacks were shredded—again. Blood dripped down my leg. But I ignored all that and scanned her from head to toe. 

Nothing.

I inspected the bond.

Nothing but that hollow sense of emptiness.

A very quiet, careful nothing.

“Are you hurt?” I asked.

She shook her head, her eyes roving me, assessing.

“Worry about yourself, Nathaniel.”

Nathaniel again. I sighed and hobbled over, settling between her and the tent before digging through the supplies until I found the first aid kit I’d bought. 

I cut the pant leg open along the side, grateful this time all the damage was below the knee.

These were shorter than yesterday's.

But deeper.

I hissed as I cleaned the wounds, then packed them with the yarrow paste Lusa insisted I use in the grove. Next came my older injuries.

Once I’d tended and re-wrapped everything, I checked my gun. I had nine rounds left in the magazine. 

Reloaded it. I’d dropped the other mag on the trail along with the ice. Hopefully I could find it on the hike out in the morning. Until then, I had ten shots. 

I’d have to make them count.

I paused as I slid the last bullet in place. That ash paste I was coating the staff with between carvings…it was supposed to ritually purify the staff so it wasn’t just a big stick with markings but became a weapon of the grove. 

It did seem to have more effect on hollows than my lousy skill would permit. I could hit harder.

Why couldn’t that work with bullets?

I turned the idea over.

Why not? 

I emptied the magazine, fished out another mag’s worth and started rubbing paste on the jacket. I skipped the case, it would go flying and I worried gunk on the case might gum up the action, maybe even cause a misfire, but it was worth a shot.

Ha. Ha.

“What are you doing?” Lusa asked, peering over.

“Evening the odds,” I said. “I took down a shadow kitty on the way in.”

“You—one of the panthera attacked you? Not just the jackals?”Schedule

“Yeah. There was a weasel thing, two of the mutts—uh, jackals—and the panthera. He was tough. Had to shoot him several times before he went down hard enough I could put a bullet through his head. Then he started leaking smoke.”

I scanned the forest as the light faded, searching for our usual guards. “Not sure if it was Scar or—“

My blood froze.

A body was pinned to the tree between where Scar and Khan usually sat.

Its head was slumped forward, but I could tell it was male, dead—please, dear God, let it be dead—and in office clothes.

A button-down very much like mine. Slacks. Blood and some kind of black tar oozed from the man’s injuries. His dark hair was neatly trimmed. So was his beard. 

Spikes of something that looked like hardened miasma had been driven through his hands, his feet, pinning him in place.

A dark form sat near Khan’s usual spot, deep in shadow.

He watched me.

How had I not sensed him?

“What. Is. That?” I asked. My voice cracked.

“The corrupted’s…gift. I do not know when he left it. I did not sense it until...”

Until I’d felt her panic.

After I’d left. 

My thoughts scattered. The gift wasn’t for Lusa.

It was for me. A message.

I wasn’t safe. 

I was going to die. 

This corrupted had a vendetta against me personally. He seemed to have decided I was the linchpin keeping Lusa from falling to the shadow. If I remained, I was a dead man.

“I—I thought tainted couldn’t touch humans,” I said, my brain latching on anything to distract it from the spiral threatening to pull me under. 

“Most humans are safe,” Lusa said. She sounded tired. 

“Most?”

“Wardens are not. The bond ties them to the Unseen. There are others—mortals born with sight. Their lives are never easy, if not found. The shadow can touch them.”

“Sight?”

“To see what most cannot. When I last walked, those born with the sight outside of my people were believed to be ill. They were locked away for their own safety.”

“An asylum?”

“I believe that was the word.”

“And now?”

She shrugged. “There still exist those with it. You were one. If it truly is a body, then most likely he had it.”

I opened my mouth to ask what she meant by me having the sight…then her words sunk in. I felt a glimmer of relief.

“It might not be a body? What then?”

“A glamour. Shadow wreathed to look like flesh.”

“You don’t know?”

“I cannot leave the circle to see.”

I eyed Khan. 

As much as I wanted it to turn out to be nothing but shadow, I wasn’t about to step outside of the circle before morning.

Morning. 

I was going to be in so much trouble at work. I’d have to stay until the sun had truly taken hold of the day. Until Khan left.

If it was just shadow it should vanish with the sun—

My heart sank. It had already survived one day. But it had rained this morning and the day had been overcast. Maybe the sun just hadn’t hit it hard enough?

And maybe my boss would tell me to take tomorrow off.

Guilt slammed me. Someone had probably died and I was worried about how it would wreck my schedule.

I pushed to my feet, walking to the edge of the circle, making sure to give Khan a pointed glare, then ignore him.

Something about this body seemed off. Details clicked into place. His skin was grimy. Hair cut like mine, but oily. Everything about him seemed worn. Except the clothes. They were clean except where blood and tar had leaked onto them. The fabric stiff, as if new.

It had to be glamour. Had to be. That neat button-down didn’t belong on a man with dirt on his hands and oil slicking his hair. 

No way this was real. 

But if it was real… 

What should I do? Call the cops and tell them a shadow monster nailed some poor guy to a tree in the woods? That’d go well. Yes, Officer, I can take you to the body. Just mind the giant salt circle and the panther-thing with glowing eyes. 

Khan growled. Low, abrasive.

“What? Grumpy you have guard duty by yourself? Sorry, I didn’t bring any catnip.”

Khan gave a barking cough and prowled forward until its nose hovered a breath away from the salt barrier. 

“Laugh while you can, mortal.”

My blood ran cold at the words. 

They were barely intelligible, coming from a throat not made for speech.

“I like to play with my food.”

“That’s bad manners, kitty,” I fired back, trying to remember how to breathe.

Khan licked a paw, radiating unconcern. 

“When I kill you, little Warden, I will be rewarded. Your blood, weak groveling though you are, will elevate me. And then—your guardian will fall.”

I gulped. The hollows had ranks? A promotion ladder? Fantastic. Evil shadow-things had better job security than I did. 

So not only would I die, I’d leave Lusa with stronger enemies to face.

“You can try,” I said. It sounded weak, even to me.

Khan snorted and returned to his post. I backed away, not taking my eyes off him.

No way I was going in to work tomorrow before the sun was up. 

Maybe the smart thing to do would be to call in sick. Everyone had seen me all banged up today. I could say I was running a fever or something and was working from home.

Better alive and the boss pissed than the alternative.

My eyes tracked back to the body on the tree. 

If it was a real body—someone’s brother, son, maybe a man who’d just slipped too far between the cracks…

What then? Dig a hole? 

Dump him somewhere he wouldn’t be found? 

Pretend it hadn’t happened?

Or drag him out of the grove at dawn and explain to the police why he was dressed like me?

My stomach turned. He looked enough like me to make the message obvious. It wasn’t random.

It was simple math.

Me = Target. 

Stay = Die.

I forced myself to shove the fear aside. I couldn’t do anything until tomorrow. Panicking trapped inside the grove wouldn’t accomplish anything.

My phone rang. 

I answered, only registering that it was a number in my contacts.

“How was work?”

The chipper voice caught me off guard. I responded automatically, “Fine,” while prying the phone away to double check the screen.

Sarah.

Oh, God.

Not now.

But I couldn’t just brush her off. I held my breath, tension mounting. Sarah hadn’t called me just because in I couldn’t say how long. Usually she waited for me to text first. 

“So, I looked into the festival this weekend and—what is that sound?”

“What sound?” I asked, ears straining, trying to hear over the sound of my blood pounding through my veins. 

Lusa was stone-still. Khan had settled back into his usual silent vigil. 

“That rustling sound. And…was that an owl?”

“Oh, yeah. Just…went for a walk after work. You know, stress relief.”

Stress relief playing chicken with shadow monsters that did not believe in turn-based combat. 

The incredulity of the situation sank in. Here I was, staring down a nightmare that had just promised to eat me for a power-up. A weak-but-healing land-goddess drank energy from the earth next to me. All while I tried to carry on a normal conversation with my girlfriend.

Totally normal day at work. Work was fine. Work was great.

“I hear it’s supposed to clear the head or something?” I said into the silence. 

“Sure.” 

“It’s been a rough week. The boss is…let’s just say if I don’t get Ray’s job when he retires next year, I’m going to be brushing off the old resume.”

Sarah snorted. “You should have done that ages ago.”

“Yeah, yeah. But what about the festival?” 

“Oh!” Her voice bubbled with enthusiasm. “We are still on for that this weekend, right? This potter who makes the most gorgeous mugs is supposed to be there! She’s teamed up with Beans and Bagels.”

“The coffee place?” I guessed.

“Mhmm. If you buy one of her mugs, you get a coupon for your next purchase. They’re just down the street.”

“Is that where you want to grab brunch?”

“Yes! They have this new spooky latte that I’ve been dying to try!”

I’d already had my fill of spooky for the year, but if the lady wanted a seasonal latte, the lady would get one. 

“Then that’s what we will do.”

“Great!” Sarah sounded genuinely pleased. 

I smiled, remembering for a moment why we’d started dating in the first place. Sarah was genuine and enthusiastic—a nice contrast to my own serious, math-bound nature.

But my eyes slid back to the body nailed to the tree, and the smile soured. 

“How much longer?” I asked, pocketing my phone.

Lusa didn’t pretend to not know what I was talking about. I sat wearily and held my hand out for the anchor. 

She gave it to me, then opened the dinner I had brought. 

The stone’s pulsing warmth was welcome. Soon my collection of wounds soothed from angry screaming to a dull ache I could shove aside.

“A few more days, then I will not need to anchor all day,” Lusa said.

“But still some of it?”

She nodded. “It would be best if we continued to anchor as much as possible. Another week would strengthen the grove—and our ties.”

“And then you’ll be able to bond another warden?”

She didn’t look at me. Didn’t say anything. Continued to eat.

“Lusa’ta?” I pressed.

She set down her spoon.

“If necessary.” 

That emptiness where the bond was stretched taut again. No emotion bled through. 

Finding a replacement was the smart choice. 

I found myself staring at the body on the tree.

Definitely the right choice.

I wasn’t running. Didn’t want out because I was scared. No, I was past scared. 

I was terrified.

The only rational thing to do was bury the fear and turn the whole mess into a logic problem. 

The numbers had to add up.

I hadn’t asked for this gig. 

If I stayed much longer, my life would fall apart. I had lied to and distanced myself from those I loved more in the past week than the past decade. Yes, it was to protect them—and myself—but that didn’t make me feel any better.

I wasn’t cut out for this. 

Squishy accountant and nightmare shadow monsters didn’t add up. Lusa needed someone who could fight for her until she was strong enough to do…whatever it was guardians did.

That person simply was not me.

Khan kept up his unblinking stare. 

I didn’t have the energy tonight to play games. And I had work to do. If I didn’t pull things together, I’d find myself losing my job too.

I shifted the stone to my off-hand. Hauled my backpack over and fished out my laptop. Might as well make use of the all the time I’d be awake. Working one-handed was less than ideal, but so was living in the woods because I couldn’t afford my apartment.

I briefly let myself daydream about going to sleep in a real bed and not spending half the night tethered to the earth. Of hot showers as soon as I woke up, soft pajamas and the luxury of cooking breakfast with running water.

If—no, once I was home again, I’d never sleep in until the last minute and grab a donut on the way to work. 

I’d wake up and fix a real breakfast. 

With bacon.