Sweet Shadows

by Tera Lynn Childs

  The creature grunts.

  I glare at it, like this is all its fault. I’m not sure that it isn’t, but I have a feeling the woman was here for me. She wanted to see me, to test me maybe.

  Seriously, after everything that’s been going on, I’m at the end of my rope.

  Without another word, I turn and sink my fangs into the creature. When it’s gone back to the abyss, I retrieve my discarded gym bag and continue on my way home. What else could go sideways in my world? I only hope that’s it for tonight.

  CHAPTER 17

  GRETCHEN

  The worst thing about the abyss is the dark. The smell is a close second, what with it being the home of all monsterkind, but the suffocating darkness is worse. It’s like a massive, endless cavern carved from black rock. What little light there is gets sucked into the nearest surface. If not for the eerie green glow of the lights—for lack of a better word—hanging from above, the entire place would be in pitch darkness.

  This is exactly how I would picture Hades, only I imagine the underworld with more fire and sulfur.

  The rocky surfaces are shiny—smooth like glass—and they look wet to the touch. They’re bone dry.

  Everything here is dry except for the black river that cuts through the center of the cavern. I haven’t gotten desperate enough to drink from it. Yet. But if I don’t find Nick and get out of here soon, I’ll have no choice. My mouth already feels like sandpaper.

  When I first came through the portal, I had an expectation of what I’d find on the other side. The several seconds I spent flying through the swirling tunnel gave me the chance to form a mental picture—and to ask myself why I’d just done such a stupid thing, but it was a pointless question by then. I pictured myself flying out into a sea of monsters, a crowd of creatures already shredding Nick to tiny little pieces and eager to do the same to me. Eager to get a part of me so they could claim their bounty and earn their freedom.

  I didn’t expect to be dumped into an empty corner of a vast space, with not another creature in sight. I landed, yanked my daggers from my boots, and braced myself for the onslaught that never came.

  I have no idea how long I’ve been here—hours, days, longer?—because there is no sun to mark the passage of time. My phone got fried on the way through and I can’t get it to power up. I’ve never worn a watch in my life, but now I wish I did.

  At first I stayed in my empty corner, certain that hordes of angry, bounty-hunting monsters would be descending on me at any moment. When they didn’t come, I realized how stupid I was being. I came through the portal to rescue Nick. Sitting around on my butt waiting to be attacked was not going to accomplish anything.

  Finally, I decided I couldn’t sit still waiting. I walked forward to the river, looked up- and downstream, and tried to make an educated guess. The whole bleak mess looked the same in both directions. I chose downstream, figuring that, if this river behaved like those in the real world, it would grow larger and more full of life the farther it went.

  I’ve been walking downstream ever since.

  The flashlight on my keychain isn’t the most powerful light source in the world, but it does the job to keep me from tripping over a rock and tumbling headfirst into the river. The light is dimming, though, and I’m not sure how much longer it will—

  Even as I have that thought, the flashlight dims even more, burns bright for a second, and then goes out completely.

  “Great.”

  I close my eyes, trying to adjust to the near black so I’ll be able to see as well as possible in the faint green glow. When I open them, I can barely make out the ground beneath my feet. I start walking, slower than before, making my way downstream. Questioning myself with every step.

  “What were you thinking?” I ask myself aloud. “Diving into the freaking monster abyss after a boy you barely know.”

  I stumble over an extrarough patch and barely catch myself before I pitch face-first to the ground. I kick at the rock, like that will make a difference.

  “And why?” I ask myself. “Because he’s cute? Because he likes you?”

  Because he kissed me? I can’t even ask that question out loud, despite the bleak solitude around me. The memory is too strong.

  I lift my hand to my mouth, brushing my fingertips over my lips. I swear I can still feel the kiss.

  But no, that’s not why I dived in after him. I need him. I need his help to get Ursula and Sthenno back. I need his help to figure out the world of mythology. Without Ursula, I’m lost, and he’s a lifeline.

  At the same time, I realize I’ve left my sisters alone and unprotected. I have to believe they can take care of themselves, of each other. At least until I can get back to their sides.

  Walking along the rough path, lost in thought, I sense the presence more than see it. A slightly different shadow in the black-on-black world.

  Instinct takes over and I drop into a crouch. There is nothing to duck behind for cover—not that that would help, because I can’t get a solid location on the whatever that just showed up. The first creature I’ve encountered since my arrival.

  A shadow passes between me and the green light at my two o’clock. I spin, about to make a leap, when a pair of hands clamps over my shoulder. Another pair wraps around my waist.

  “Mmmm, human,” the thing behind me says.

  The other beastie steps closer, into my direct line of sight. “Out of place down here.”

  I struggle against the twin pairs of arms that are securing me against the chest of the monster I can’t see. My fangs drop and I reach back, trying to grab at one of the arms holding me in place.

  “No,” the beast in front of me shouts as I pull a big, hairy forearm to within biting distance and sink my fangs into the tough flesh.

  I don’t expect the creature to vanish right away—there’re pretty low odds that this forearm is the pulse point on this particular beastie—but I expect it to go eventually. What I don’t expect is for the four arms holding me to suddenly slacken.

  I stumble forward at my sudden freedom, into the arms of the other monster, whose green-glinting eyes aren’t focused on me. It’s watching its bitten friend.

  I turn, expecting to see the thing angry that I’ve sent—

  But wait, how can I send it home when it’s already there?

  The creature crumples to the ground. I can see now that it’s a laestrygon, normally an unrelenting, man-eating giant that is as hard to fight as it is to hunt.

  The laestrygon looks piteous. Clutching at one arm, at the spot where my fangs hit home, it’s writhing in pain, groaning and growling and howling into the echoing abyss.

  “What’s going on?”

  The other monster, still behind me, roars, “You’ve killed him.”

  “What?”

  Killed him? No, that can’t be. My venom doesn’t kill monsters, it just sends them home. But he is home. And maybe that restriction only applies in the human realm, where monsters are virtually immortal. Here, in the home of the beasts, there is nowhere else to send them. Here, they die.

  Just like the glow of my dying flashlight moments before, the shouts of the writhing creature on the ground gradually fade. Moans turn into whimpers, growls into labored breathing. Then, with a final sigh, everything stops.

  Everything.

  It’s like a stab to my chest.

  I’ve hunted monsters for four years without hesitation. I’ve taken them down hard and fast and with more than a little joy at watching them vanish back into the realm where they belong.

  But this? This is different.

  This is final.

  “I—” I turn to look at the other creature, feeling helpless for the first time in a long, long time. For the first time since the last time I let Phil lay a hand on me. It’s not a feeling I enjoy. “I didn’t know.”

  The other creature, a minotaur, looks at me, eyes wide, and whispers, “Huntress.”

  It turns and runs into the black.

  “Wait!” I
call after it.

  That thing is the only living creature—besides its now deceased friend—that I’ve seen since landing in the abyss. I should have grabbed it, questioned it about this place, about the layout of the realm, about where I might find prisoners or food or light or a way out.

  The thing might as well have poofed back to my world for whatever chance I have of finding it now. I can barely see my hand in front of my face, let alone a creature running away, deeper and deeper into shadow, at full speed.

  I mutter a curse and start walking again, the same direction I’ve been heading. Away from the dead laestrygon.

  My feet are dragging more than before. Part of it is the shock of having actually killed a monster. I have no pity for them, obviously. They are bloodthirsty, evil creatures for the most part. But in the space of a bite I’ve become a killer. Not just a huntress, a warden who herds her wild beasties back into their pen. A killer.

  Before this, my biggest worry was accidentally killing a human if some of the deadly blood from the left side of my body got spilled in their presence. That’s why I wear the Kevlar wrist cuffs. I couldn’t have planned for this.

  I feel like I’ve crossed an invisible line. Like a world that was black-and-white has turned into a million shades of gray. It’s not a good feeling.

  For the first time in my life, I wish someone were here to comfort me, to reassure me. No, not just someone. I wish my sisters were here. Greer would tell me to suck it up and Grace would give me a hug. Even though I would probably shrug off their efforts, it would make me feel better.

  The other reason for my sluggish steps, I know, is dehydration. My mind may not know what time it is, or how much time has passed since I jumped into this realm, but my body is giving me signs. Dry mouth, heavy limbs, the beginnings of a killer headache. I’ve been at least thirty-six hours without water, maybe closer to forty-eight. If I don’t get some moisture into my system soon, it’s going to start shutting down.

  The black water is hardly inviting. I have no idea if it’s sanitary, let alone drinkable. I don’t even know if it is water. Who knows what might be living in there?

  I’m going to have to risk it at some point. Soon it will be either certain death by dehydration or risk other ailments by drinking the questionable water.

  For now, I keep walking.

  Eventually, the river changes course. The main flow of the water turns left, continuing on into the black cavern. To the right, an eddy of water forms a pool. A small lake with a narrow natural bridge just below the surface, separating it from the fast-moving river.

  This looks like as good a place as any to try a drink. At least I won’t risk getting carried away by the current.

  I make my way around the lake, searching for a secluded spot. About a quarter of the way along the shore, the lake spreads out over a rocky shelf, forming a wide, thin sheet of water.

  I move up to the corner, where the lake becomes shallow, and drop to my knees. With my body drying out, the cushioning effect of my skin and muscle is depleted. The impact of my kneecaps on rock rattles my entire body. My entire skeleton.

  As much as I don’t want to try this water, I know I’m out of options. Out of time.

  On my hands and knees, I lean forward, reach down to scoop a handful of lake, and lift it to my mouth. I hesitate only an instant before parting my lips and drinking in the liquid.

  Cool and crisp, the water tastes clean. That doesn’t mean there aren’t bacteria or viruses floating around in there, but at least it tastes like pure water.

  As it flows over my tongue, down my throat, into my belly, it feels like icy rivulets. Lightning flashes of cool, refreshing, life-giving water. My stomach grumbles in protest, reminding me that it would like some food too. That will have to wait. I can survive for days, weeks even, without food.

  For the love of Medusa, I don’t think water has ever tasted this good in my life. I scoop up handful after handful, guzzling it down like my energy drinks back home.

  I’ve never felt so far from home. So far from everything I care about. Even knowing that some of the people I care about—Ursula, Sthenno, and, yes, Nick—are possibly here, in this realm with me, I feel a million miles away from them.

  My sisters feel even farther away.

  When I’ve drunk my fill and my stomach feels like it’s going to explode, like I might float away, I sit back on my heels. Hands on my knees, I close my eyes for a minute, reveling in the feeling of moisture on my tongue.

  I can’t sit here for long. I need to get back on my feet, back on the path that might lead me to Nick. To answers about the missing Gorgons. And then—hopefully—home.

  But for now, for right now, I could sit here and listen to the gently lapping water forever. I’m tired, beyond exhausted. I haven’t slept since I got here, and I’m sure my body and my brain would appreciate a quick nap. I can’t afford to wait, though.

  Finally, after I feel that some of the water bloating my stomach has been absorbed into my body, I slowly open my eyes. I’m ready to push back to my feet, to head back to the river, make my way over the bridge, and keep walking.

  Across the lake, about a third of the way around the shore from my location, is a light. I’m pretty certain I would have noticed a light when I first got here. Which means I’m also pretty certain it’s a late addition. Which means something—or someone—must have brought it there.

  I jump to my feet, relieved to have my quick-healing reflexes back in working order, and take off toward the light. The glow is strong enough that I can see the ground in front of me more clearly. I can move faster than before. There’s one big rock outcropping between me and the light, and when I approach it, I realize I’ll either have to swim around it on the lake side or do some serious rock climbing to get over it.

  I weigh my options. If I go into the lake, all my clothes—and what gear I do have—will get soaked. If I go with the rocks, I might not be able to find foot- and handholds to get me over. I’m without proper climbing gear and my boots aren’t exactly the most agile of footwear. I survey the rock face and find it almost perfectly smooth. From ground level I can’t even see how high the rock wall goes. It might go all the way to the ceiling for all I know.

  “No way can I make it over,” I mutter.

  Which means the lake is my only option.

  If I have to get wet, I want to lessen the consequences as much as possible. I quickly strip down to my essentials and tie my boots up in the bundle of my clothes. Hopefully I can hold them out of the water, keeping them safe and dry.

  With a tight grip on my things, I make my way to the water’s edge and slowly start to wade in. I knew the water was cold, but I had no idea how freezing it would feel to walk into it. Maybe it’s colder in this deeper end of the lake, or maybe my toes are just more sensitive than my hands. Either way, the shivers start before I’m even knee-deep.

  As the water rises, I set the bundle on my head and try to stick close to the rock outcropping. The lakebed—all solid rock, of course—drops off quickly, and soon I can barely reach the bottom with my tiptoes. Jutting my chin up to keep my head and my bundle above water, I start to dog-paddle as I reach the end of the rock outcropping.

  I pass the barrier and start swimming for the shore on the other side. I feel the first scrape of my toes on the rising bottom when something wraps around my ankle. I scream, but my shout turns into a gurgle as I get dragged under. Before I disappear beneath the surface, I heave my bundle as far toward the shore as I can, hoping to at least keep my clothes dry. With both arms free, I can concentrate on extricating my ankle from the iron grip of something that feels too much like a hand.

  I dive under, reaching for my ankle. I wish I’d kept one of my daggers out instead of tying them both up with everything else in my bundle. I try to claw at whatever is pulling me, but the downward momentum and my natural buoyancy keep the hand just out of reach.

  I feel the water pressure change as I’m dragged deeper and deeper. Th
e lungful of air in my chest is running out of oxygen. Primal instinct starts forcing air out, trying to compel me to take another breath. The survival core of my brain doesn’t realize that there is no air out there, only water.

  The last whoosh of air escapes. I’m out of time. And to think, moments ago I was worried about going days without water. Lack of oxygen will do the same trick in minutes.

  Then, suddenly, I’m being yanked to the surface. The hand around my ankle holds on tight, but the creature it’s connected to gets pulled up with me. As we approach the surface, the hand releases, and I fly out of the water and out onto the rocky shore.

  I suck in great gasping gulps of air, struggling to get oxygen back into my panicking bloodstream. My stomach heaves, rejecting the black water that it welcomed a short while ago.

  I’m on my hands and knees, gasping and gagging, when a woman’s voice says, “What kind of fool goes wading into the Lake of the Dead?”

  I look up and try to focus my blurry vision on the speaker, but my attention is drawn to a beautiful black horse standing a few feet away. It takes me a moment to realize that the reason I can tell the horse is black is that the single horn in the middle of its forehead is glowing like a ship’s lantern in the fog.

  “No way,” I whisper, fighting off another coughing fit. “You’re a unicorn.”

  The unicorn tilts its head to the side and gives me what can only be a bemused look. That’s the last thing I see before I black out.

  CHAPTER 18

  GRACE

  When Milo calls and asks if I want to go grab lunch somewhere, I almost put him off. Since Gretchen dived into the abyss just two days ago, I’ve been half crazed. I stayed up most of the last two nights working on my library archives search program—I call it the LASP—and then meeting Greer at first light to search the streets.

  I’m exhausted and desperate, and those don’t seem like good things to throw into the mix between me and Milo.

  “I’d love to go to lunch, Milo,” I say, “but—”