Clay looked down at the medallion in his hand, and I could see a yearning in him that I’d rarely seen. Yearning to belong to something greater than himself. Heck, a chance to belong to something, and not just be scorned or hated. Clay loved a good fight. He was good at it. He had trained for it. That crest represented what he desired. And after living a life where your own desires were so secondary to everyone else’s, could I blame him for pursuing it blindly?
“I just thought I could be a part of something,” he said. “And I just didn’t know if that was something I wasn’t supposed to tell you, either.”
How much more aren’t you telling me, Clay?
The dog barked again in the distance, and we had a mission to accomplish. Time was running short. Clay needed to focus. Hell, I needed to focus, so we’d survive. We’d chat more later. We’d have a hell of a long chat, in fact, without Ian listening in. Just Clay and I, like it used to be.
“Okay,” I said, surprisingly unemotional. But it had been a day of emotions. How many emotions could I spend in one day? Surely it was a limited currency.
He grinned and pocketed the medallion, then her absent-mindedly reached up to touch the locket held by a thick black cord at his neck, a nervous tick that showed he intended to focus on the moment. Clay was centering his thoughts, focusing on the mission at hand.
I just had to worry about me finding my focus now. Clay wasn’t the perfect friend, no, but we hadn’t been raised in the perfect environment, so I guess that was to be expected. But he was willing to make sure that there would always be room for me wherever he went. And I knew that he would always come back for me.
And I would always come for him, too. Hadn’t I proved that already? That was worth something. It was worth a lot, in fact. Friendships like that couldn’t easily be replaced.
I grinned, feeling lighter for the first time since leaving the school.
I met his eyes and held them, felt Ian against my leg, a solid presence which grounded me.
“So, what’s the plan?” I asked.
He grinned and, for a few moments, all felt right in the world once more.
Chapter Eighteen
We walked for another twenty minutes before Clay stopped us near a busy intersection. I twitched at the urge to draw shadows down on me. I exchanged a quick look with Ian. He’d been quiet since I’d had the whole exchange with Clay.
Clay pointed to the left, on a large four-laned street with quite a bit of traffic, even though we neared midnight. The street lamps were plentiful, the tall buildings still illuminated despite the late hour. Most of the office buildings were empty - giant high-rises that reached up to the sky with their ambition and profits.
“It’s the third building on the left,” Clay whispered. I glanced at the squatter building, nestled between two big constructs of steel and glass. The targeted building seemed older, lined with bricks and stucco. Intricate details made it stand out, which I loved, but I hated the fact that it had few windows, so I couldn’t see inside that easily. It seemed a little bit more secure because of the lack of windows, although I wasn’t really sure how secure the newer buildings were, either. Probably full of traps. Everything was always full of traps.
“Where are they in the building?” I asked. Clay shrugged, which is exactly the answer I expected. Then he grinned, which was the second answer I expected.
“I’m going to go in,” he said, “and I’m going to grab the canister and meet you outside. And you just keep an eye out to make sure that the exit stays clear.”
It was a plan that we’d done several times before, sure. But it didn’t feel right. Not now. Not at this point. And not with the amount of danger we might potentially be facing.
“I think we should stick together,” I said. Ian made a little sound beside me that indicated he agreed.
Clay shook his head. “Too dangerous. They know me. What if you get caught? What if they figure me out? At least this way, you can get help and come find me.”
“Get help? Who would I get help from?” I gave a strangled laugh. “Clay, you’re my only friend. Well, you and Ian.” I added quickly, when he made another little noise. “But we’re in this together, Clay. We said that we’d go in together, and I’m not leaving you alone now.”
“Alright,” he looked frustrated. “But, look. I’m not sure what kind of reception we’re going to get here. They already know me, so I’m thinking I might just be able to walk in there, say ‘hey,’ grab it and get out. They don’t know you, so we’re going to have more questions to answer if you’re there.”
“How well do they know you?” I asked.
He shrugged. “We did a lot of heists for them. I mean, all of them.”
Ian coughed again and Clay gave him a nasty look.
“They’re not bad, Tira! That test the other day? That was for them. So they know some of what you can do. And they know we’re tight!”
“Clay, if we’ve been working for this guild all this time, and they even tested us, remember that you got an emblem, and I didn’t,” I said softly. “I don’t think they want me, Clay.”
“Well, they’re wrong,” his voice echoed and he lowered it again, though anger laced every word. Several cars went by, and I held my hood closer to my head. I felt so exposed at this intersection. Clay instinctively stepped between me and the passersby, sensing my discomfort. The kindness of the gesture, the easy familiarity, formed a lump in my throat.
“They’re going to separate us, Clay,” I whispered, which he somehow heard despite a bus passing by.
“No, they won’t,” he said, grabbing my upper arms again. “I promise you. They won’t separate us. We’ll find a way.”
He was so confident that I nodded and swallowed the lump. Either way, we had to deal with this, first, or neither of us would be joining a league.
“I’m not going to wait for you outside,” I whispered. “I’ll stick to the shadows, sure, but there’s no way I’m letting you go in there alone, Clay.”
“I wish you would,” he said, not looking at me, but at the building up ahead.
“Listen,” I said, “we’re in this together. We always have been, we always will be, right?”
He sighed. “Yeah,” he said, “we are. Just be careful in there. I don’t want to see you get dropped again.”
“Oh,” I said, raising an eyebrow, “I’m the one we’re worried about getting dropped here? Who got dropped during the so-called test, Mr. I-Got-A-Guild-Invite?”
He laughed, and I felt lighter by the time we approached the building. The wide sidewalk provided little cover, but the street light grew sparse. Clay looked around and, when no cars were incoming, he pulled out a gun with a silencer on it, a model I couldn’t quite make out in the darkness, and fired at the next streetlight. It went out in a shower of glass, leaving us in darkness.
“I’ll be right behind you,” I told Clay, squeezing his arm.
“I know,” he nodded, his hair tied back in a ponytail, but wisps already escaping, refusing to be contained. He vibrated with excitement and purpose as he walked toward the steps leading to the stone building. I watched him go, confidently stepping into the light of the building as I lingered in the darkness.
A familiar head butted my hand.
“Stay close to me,” I whispered to Ian.
I folded the shadows around us, the night becoming crisper, the air clearer, the world safer. No one else controlled these shadows, as they bent to my will and gladly slipped around me, like an old friend greeting me with a warm cup of tea on a cold day. I took a deep breath, not realizing I’d been holding it.
My fingers were threaded in Ian’s warm fur. I looked down into his eyes, and we walked quickly to catch up to Clay, who’d reached the entrance. Even in the light I could feel my shadows holding tight, intent on not letting me go.
We reached Clay just as he yanked the door open. I sucked in my breath. He heard me and grinned my way.
“It’s a fighter’s league!” he whisp
ered. “Do you really think they’re scared of anyone just coming in here and taking advantage of them?”
Ian sniffed the air and took a step in front of us. Clay walked in, and Ian and I followed a little bit behind.
The door led directly to stairs leading up and down. Clay headed up, without hesitation, toward the well-lit top corridor. I struggled to find enough shadows to keep both Ian and I hidden, glad that Clay cast a decent shadow himself. I looked at his shadow, through the ones dancing around me, remembering the shifting shadows that I’d lost control of.
His shadow seemed thin, the old tiled floor at his feet didn’t seem as dark as the shadow should make it. But the shadow didn’t shift in any unexpected way.
“Hey, I’m back!” he shouted in his convivial manner with his deep, gruff voice. It snapped me back to the moment, and away from staring at shadows.
Clay entered a large room. Three people looked up smiling, apparently glad to see him. They all approached him as they greeted him. I hung back, so they didn’t accidentally bump into me.
The first to reach him was a tall woman, a blonde with dark skin, hair in a ponytail reaching down past her hips. She wore about a hundred bracelets, and I was jealous of every single one of them, they were so shiny. She seemed genuinely happy to see Clay and hugged him. He hugged her back, and it didn’t seem awkward.
I narrowed my eyes and stared at her.
The second one was a short man, hair so pale as to be almost white, although I didn’t think he was old. He seemed our age, and so was probably one of the Traded. His eyes stood in deep contrast to his pale hair and face. Not black, like Clay’s, though. More like smoky dark. Like at one point he’d been caught in a burning building, and some of that smoke had remained trapped in his head, peering out through the thin film of his eyes. That wasn’t a comforting thought.
I glanced to the third person. I thought this one might be human, although it was hard to tell. Truth be told, I much preferred how different Traded looked. It proved much easier to tell them apart. Because I found this one generic-looking, I figured that they must be completely human. Straight, red hair, narrower eyes, wide smile, muscled arms. But I might be completely wrong, because I based it on absolutely nothing but what I could see. It’s not like any of them wore a badge or obviously looked like a purple-skinned demon.
When I looked at Clay among them, I realized that he could pass too, if he really wanted to. His eyes were just a little bit too covered in darkness, but even then, a good pair of sunglasses and nobody would know he was Traded. He could hide the claw-like shape of his hands with gloves, and not smile so no one would notice the strange sharpness of his teeth.
He could slip into society and just vanish, become one of them, not have to go home, not long to find a place that would accept him for who he was, and for what he looked like.
I was the one who wanted that. To find a home with others like me. Not him, because he could fit in here. Still, he hunted for ways to form a portal home. To my home. I watched him chat with his friends, and realized that he was doing that for me. He had a home here, but he still thought of me, and what I might want.
I couldn’t believe I’d ever doubted him. I couldn’t believe I’d doubted my oldest friend, just because I got knocked on the head and he had to make a tough call to leave me behind.
I pressed further against the wall where the shadows were thickest, and kept them surrounding Ian and I. Clay exchanged pleasantries with the others, and then they encouraged him to go through to speak to someone they called “the boss.”
Clay laughed and smiled and shook hands with all of them, and then he stepped through the door, making sure to hold it open a little longer, sharing a few more words with the three. I managed to slip through before it closed.
I passed by the tall blonde woman, smelled her perfume of roses. So Earth-like a scent, revolting in its sweetness.
Past the door stood desks and offices with big windows, and old carpets and campaign posters from elections long passed. Not exactly what I’d expected from a fighter’s league, but I guess each guild had to make do with what they were given.
Clay walked with more confidence than I expected he might. He greeted each person warmly, the office area extremely busy for being night time. I guessed that fights took place at night.
Most people here looked human, and I couldn’t easily spot a Traded among them. An old pink-sweatered grandmother walked past me, patted Clay on the back, and even gave him a cookie.
Shit, this place wasn’t half bad. I could see why Clay liked it. Everyone seemed warm and friendly, and there were cookies! I wanted a cookie. I considered stealing one, though I decided against it, struggling to stay out of the way while keeping the shadows folded against Ian and I. Clay glanced back for half a second, worry flickering across his face. A woman walked behind me, missing me by a few inches, and I called the shadows more densely around me.
This was going to be impossible. The overhead lights were too strong and there were too many people. Somebody would detect me. Clay had been right, I should have stayed outside.
No.
I just had to alter my environment to suit me. I pulled out a metal star and swung it at one of the overhead lights, managing not to hit the actual bulb, which would have sent it exploding, but the socket on the side instead. The light flickered out, killing a third of the lighting in the corridor. I breathed more easily. A few people stopped walking and looked up, puzzled.
“This old building…” the grandmother said, “I swear, every day it just needs more and more repairs.”
Clay said something to her and kept walking. A few others greeted him and kept going on their way as well, and it seemed that everybody decided to dissipate away from where the shadows had fallen. Maybe they understood that something lurked within them. They were right, something did. And that something was growing damn irritated at all the foot traffic here.
I trailed after Clay, who was now a bit ahead of us, Ian sticking close to me. We reached another part of the corridor, still covered in ugly carpet, a few half cubicle walls marking off office spaces. I shuddered at their grayness, remembering the walls separating our cells.
Clay grabbed the handle of the door at the end. He glanced back my way and gave a subtle nod. He couldn’t see me returning it, but I found comfort in the fact that he knew I still followed him. That he knew I would still be there like I said I would be.
He opened the door and headed in without hesitation. I walked closer to slip in, but before I could, the door closed behind him.
He hadn’t been nodding to be comforting. He’d been nodding to tell me to wait here. Wait here while I go and get the thing. Wait here like was my original plan.
Something nudged me on the leg, and I realized that Ian was right beside me, trying to get my attention. I turned and saw a slew of Traded walking into the office area, each looking meaner than the last, fighters to the core, ripped with muscles, weapons, and confidence.
They were heading straight for me, in a narrow corridor, and there were few shadows in which to hide.
I quickly doubled back before they could reach us, Ian sticking close. I passed near the burnt-out light and slipped into an office. The fighters walked past me, none the wiser.
My blood ran cold. One was shorter and sported blue hair. Had he been the man who’d attacked us in the halfway house? I made a note to check on that later. Maybe much later, as it didn’t seem to be a priority right now. Still, I stared at him as he and a few other fighters headed into the room where Clay had vanished. A few fighters unfortunately stayed near the offices, hanging out and chatting.
I placed my hand on Ian’s head as though to calm him, but it was more to calm myself. I could feel vibrations flowing from him. He was as alert as I was. Something wasn’t quite right, and I couldn’t tell what.
Clay had gone in and I had to trust that he was safe, and my job was to keep an escape path open. But with all those fighters here…why the hell
were they all here? What even was this place?
“Cookie?” a wavering voice asked, and I turned around, surprised to find the grandmother right beside me, holding up the plate of cookies. I opened my mouth, but no words came out.
How could she see me?
Ian growled. The grandmother raised the cookie plate and a gun lay under it. Not suffering from the same hesitation I did, Ian leapt at her. He yelped, yanked back by an unseen force and smashed against the wall.
“Ian!” I screamed, dropping the shadows. Obviously they weren’t working here. I reached for my sword, but my arm wouldn’t move, like it was trapped in thick molasses. None of my body would move.
I’d felt that force before. I managed to glance toward the door.
“Hey, demon,” Blake said, looking as smug as he ever had, holding me and Ian in place. If he gave me an inch, I’d make him pay.
He wanted a demon? I could be that, just for him. I’d rip his damn eyes out and feed them to him, so this demon would be the last sight he saw on this cursed planet.
Chapter Nineteen
I shouldered the door again, but it held annoyingly fast. Damn office door! Here I thought this building was less secure! I couldn’t have been more wrong.
They’d taken Ian. They’d taken my weapons, again, and they’d left me here, Blake grinning at me like it was all a joke he’d played on me. Worse: I’d never found out what that giant gun did! This was the cheese grater all over again.
I kicked the door, bounced off, crossed my arms and stared at it.
How the hell was I supposed to get out of here? Where was Clay? Where had they taken Ian?
“Hey!” I screamed. Nobody answered. Of course nobody answered.
How had they been able to see me through my shadows? Why were my powers, which had been so useful when I was at school, now suddenly so useless?
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