Shadows Grow

by Kara Jaynes

  As the room grows darker, I crawl out from under the bed, pushing wavy strands of blond hair out of my eyes. There’s got to be something I can consume that isn’t human blood. I just need to figure out what it is. “There’s something,” I say aloud, my voice hoarse.

  My mouth waters and I swallow hard as I stalk across the room to the window. This isn’t the warehouse I’d been originally staying at. This is a dilapidated structure on West Liberty, near the water’s crumbling docks. It smelled deserted when I arrived, so I don’t worry about anyone trying to come back.

  I step out into the night and inhale deeply. It doesn’t stink so bad over here. Underneath the pollution, I can smell grass and dirt, and the briny scent of the sea.

  And blood. I can always smell blood.

  It is time to hunt. It’s time to feed.

  My legs move into a sprint, my form becoming a blur as I race toward the heart of the city. I suspect the elven hunter is still out here somewhere, trying to track me, and I don’t even care. If he’s stupid enough to fight me now, I’ll rend him limb from limb and feast on his remains. I’m so thirsty; I feel ready to shriek from the pain of it.

  With darkness cloaking the city, not many people are out. It’s been this way for years, though, ever since the space elves have taken over Liberty.

  The elves have ignored the stray animals that roam the streets, and the city has plenty of cats and dogs about. And that is what I’ll eat tonight. An animal’s blood is still better than no blood. It has to be enough. It has to.

  I round a corner, and skid to a halt, coming face to face with a human.

  A young woman. She looks to be about nineteen. Maybe eighteen. Stella’s age.

  She stumbles back from me with a startled squeak and turns to run. In her haste, she trips and falls. She scrapes her hands. I can smell her blood, fresh and metallic.

  I’m on her before I can even think. Pinning her to the ground and gripping her ponytail to expose her neck, I sink my fangs into her throat, groaning with pleasure as blood pumps into my mouth.

  The girl thrashes in my grasp, and I clamp a hand over her mouth to stifle her cries.

  Euphoria embraces me, drowning out my horror, my guilt. Everything washes away, dulled by the precious blood that races down my throat. I have to have more. I can’t stop. Even after the girl ceases struggling—such a futile endeavor—I drink, swallowing until there’s nothing left.

  I drop her lifeless body and stare down at the limp form. Her eyes had been brown and so full of life a moment ago. A smattering of freckles is sprinkled across her nose. What had her name been? “Why were you here?” I hissed. “Why? You’re a stupid creature, and I hate myself.”

  And I do. In the moment of drinking blood, there is nothing but addictive bliss, absolute contentment. But now, as the implication of what I’ve done weighs on my shoulders, self-loathing rips through me.

  Wiping my mouth, I turn away, my heart wrenching inside me. “It was your fault,” I say in a choked whisper. My limbs shake, but I force myself to move, to put distance between myself and the corpse. “You’re the one who was foolish enough to come out at night. You should’ve known better.”

  I angrily wipe tears from my face as I slink away. She shouldn’t have been out at night. It’s against elven law. It was there to protect her. Why hadn’t she listened? She knew it wasn’t safe.

  What would Stella think, if she knew? The thought makes me shudder, and I run, as if distancing myself from the girl I murdered will somehow help. My vision blurs, and I wipe at my eyes again.

  It doesn’t matter what Stella would do or think, because she’ll never know. I break into a run while mentally sifting through a hundred different justifications for what I’d done.

  But it doesn’t matter.

  I already know.

  I’m a monster, and there’s nothing I can do to change that.

  8

  Stella

  I stand at the top of a building, the ruined city of Liberty sprawled before me. I gaze down at it, grief warring with aloofness. What has this city done for me? Why should I help it? How can I help it? Even in my dreams, I’m just Stella. A human girl. Mortal. Weak.

  I blink, looking down at my hands. Am I dreaming?

  There’s one way to find out.

  Without giving any thought to my action, I fling myself from the roof, and swoop down, plummeting toward the ground. Inhaling, I arch my back, finding myself in the wind, and fly.

  I’m flying. And it feels so natural. As natural as breathing. Skimming over the streets, I ignore the gawking and shouts that follow me wherever I go. I can fly.

  So this is a dream. Somehow, I know that. I’m not usually aware of the fact that I’m dreaming, except for the times I defy gravity. I can’t do this in the waking world. But I should be able to. It feels so easy in my dreams. Effortless.

  The air is heavy with the stench of pollution. If I narrow my eyes and tilt my head, I can see it. Great, heavy bands of dull gray, piled up on top of each other, like layers of silt. The trees that the elves have planted help with that, but it’s still so thick. Dark. Oppressive.

  Swooping higher, over the treetops, I reach out and flick my wrist, not really aware of what I’m doing. The pollution parts, sections of it disintegrating under my touch.

  “So he’s discovered a sylph. What a lucky find.” A voice speaks suddenly in the silence, and I almost fall. Gritting my teeth, I land in a tree, gripping its leafy branches. I can’t touch the ground right now. If I do, I’ll die. The certainty of it fills me with terror.

  A woman stands at the bottom of the tree, looking up. She’s breathtakingly gorgeous, with flawless, alabaster skin, and dark brown hair, cut short. She watches me with eyes so amber they’re red. “But you know, it will take more than luck for your prince to heal this land.” Her lips curve into a smug smile. “And I don’t rely on luck. Chance isn’t a reliable friend.”

  I study her. Her scarlet dress is cut scandalously low, and her nails are long and pointed, like claws. “What do you want?” I ask. My body is tense. I shouldn’t be talking to her. Every instinct screams at me to flee. But I don’t move. “Why are your ears pointed? Are you an elf?”

  The smile turns to a sneer of scorn. “I’m no elf,” she hisses. “Elves are weak. They refuse to change and evolve, to see their true source of power for what it really is.” The smile is back. She carelessly flicks a stray brown lock behind her ear. “But no matter. I don’t like sharing power, so I suppose it’s best this way.” Her red eyes narrow. “I can’t have you getting in the way, though. Eldaren can’t make any strides in healing this planet, and I cannot allow you two to bond. I’m almost sorry, but truly, I don’t see any advantage in keeping you alive.”

  Then she’s on me. She’d scaled the tree in a second; down on the ground one moment, and in the tree and wrenching my head back the next, exposing my throat.

  “You smell delicious,” she purrs. “I was going to send someone to do the dirty work, but maybe I should just take care of you myself.”

  “No!” I shriek.

  Opening my eyes, I find myself in bed. It’s night. Everything is calm, although my heart is thundering like a car’s engine. I’m afraid. Terrified.

  Why? I sit up and rub my eyes. I had a dream where I was flying. I love those kinds of dreams. They make me feel safe. But this time I hadn’t felt safe, because something is happening. But I can’t remember what. It feels like I should remember. It’s important. But I can’t recall. My dream slips away from me like smoke on the wind.

  I flop backward, my head hitting the pillow. Stars, but I feel awful. My limbs still shudder from the nightmare I no longer remember.

  I close my eyes. Sleep beckons.

  My heart stops when I feel a draft on my face, the cool air stirring my hair, and prickling my arms.

  The window is open.

  I had closed it last night. I am so sure of that. I lie in bed, frozen. I could cry for help. I know an elven guar
d is set to patrol this corridor every single night. He will come if I call.

  Except now that my mind is tearing free from the cobwebs of sleep, I know there’s only one person who’d come to me through the window.

  I sit up again. “Wilder?” I whisper, my voice barely above a breath. I clamber out of bed, tiptoeing over to the window. Excitement and dread surge through me, my entire body tingling with anticipation.

  Nothing. Peering outside, I don’t see anyone.

  I swallow a sigh and turn away, a cloud of disappointment welling up. I miss him.

  I pause, when I notice that something is on the table. I’d cleared its surface of books right before going to bed. Walking over, I peer at it and hope rips away the disappointment I’d felt just seconds before.

  It’s a lone red flower. But not just any flower. It’s a carnation. Wilder used to buy them for me, once upon a time, and they were always red. He couldn’t have left a clearer sign that he’d been here.

  I know why he’s being secretive. It isn’t safe for him, here. Eldaren has been so quiet on the matter; I’ve been wondering if he’d already killed or imprisoned my former fiancé.

  I hold the flower tenderly, cradling it to my chest. I’ve missed him so much. Hurrying back to the window, I inhale deeply, the night air suddenly sweet. “Thank you,” I whisper.

  And Wilder responds. I hear a faint shifting of sneakers on shingles, and Wilder is climbing down from the gabled roof above me, crouching on my sill.

  We lock eyes, and he puts a finger to his lips, commanding silence.

  I gaze at him, swallowed up in the red of his eyes. His eyes had once been a breathtaking blue, but whatever had gone wrong in the elven experiment had changed his eye color, permanently it seems. But they are still beautiful. Wilder is still beautiful. Even more so than before.

  Longing aches inside of me. I want to run my hands through his hair and kiss his gorgeous mouth. Desire for him is stronger than anything I’ve ever felt.

  Stronger than the Kenelky.

  And that isn’t even really me, is it? Eldaren says there isn’t a choice, once the Kenelky is sparked. But that isn’t true, or I’d already be his wife. Or mate, or whatever they call it.

  Eldaren.

  Guilt pokes my elation, and I bite my lip, still watching Wilder.

  His eyes travel down to my mouth, and he reaches out, a slender finger gently pressing my lip, so I’m not biting it.

  Oh. Embarrassment floods through me. He’s a vampire. I can’t spill blood near him, can I? “Sorry,” I breathe, and Wilder grins crookedly, shrugging a shoulder.

  We continue to gaze at each other in silence. So many unspoken words glitter between us, but at the same time, nothing really needs to be said. I could stand like this forever. My eyes rove over him. He’s tall, strong, and his skin and teeth are perfect. He’s physically powerful, like Eldaren, but they’re so different from each other. Wilder’s hair is fair, while Eldaren’s is dark. Both have pale skin, but Wilder’s is almost paper white.

  Eldaren is kind, but he’s also cold and indifferent. Despite his efforts, I’m not sure he’ll ever truly understand me.

  But Wilder has always understood me. It comes as naturally to him as breathing air.

  Or drinking blood.

  I see it now, a faint smear of red on the corner of his mouth. My eyes travel back to his. I know what he has to do to survive, but it doesn’t stop the curl of uncertainty in my stomach. “You’ve been drinking blood,” I whisper.

  His body stiffens, his eyes widening with alarm, and something almost like pain crosses his face before he looks down.

  I touch his chin, pushing his head back so our gazes lock. Tears well in his eyes, his lips turning down in emotion. “I’m sorry,” he chokes.

  Anger roars through me, but not at Wilder. Never him.

  No.

  I’m angry at Eldaren.

  This is his fault. He’s the one who allowed experiments on humans. He’s responsible for changing Wilder. For making him like this.

  Wilder had drunk blood. He’s a vampire. And I don’t care. I should. I know I should be terrified, but I’m not. This is Wilder. He can’t be evil. He’s only good. If he’s hunting, it’s not his fault.

  Holding the carnation in one hand, I hug him, inhaling his scent; copper, sweat, and something dark and delicious I can’t name. My mouth waters just smelling him. “Can you hold back?” I say, “from the blood?”

  “I’ll try.” Wilder hugs me back, one hand coming up to tangle in my hair. “I’ll return when I can,” he whispers, his breath caressing my ear. Then he releases me and is gone, scrambling back onto the roof.

  I inhale deeply again, trying to catch his fading scent. I don’t know what to feel. Desire, grief, happiness and guilt, all war for attention.

  Crawling back into bed, I put the carnation under my pillow, beside the ring that Wilder had given me.

  Sleep doesn’t return for a long time.

  9

  Stella

  Eldaren and I are in his office. He’s been sitting at his desk for the entire morning and most of the afternoon. I know that because I’ve been here that long, too. I’m reading legends, myths, and fairy tales, trying to find something that will give us a lead on the elusive gaias. Eldaren has been rather vague on why they’re so important in healing the planet, but maybe he isn’t entirely sure himself.

  Despite all of my efforts, I’ve found nothing, and my mood grows blacker with every passing minute. I enjoy reading as much as the next book nerd, but it’s an entirely different story when you feel like you have to read.

  “Oh, this is useless!” I toss the volume aside and glare up at Eldaren from the rug a few feet away from his chair. “All of this reading and nothing to show for it.”

  “You haven’t read any of the books all the way through.” Eldaren is huddled over a stack of papers, studying them intently. Dark locks of midnight hair hang on either side of his face. “You’re merely paging through them, reading bits and pieces. That’s an effective way to miss critical information.”

  “You have a castle full of servants,” I protest. “Why not have them do this instead? I’m bored.”

  “Being bored is not an adequate excuse for giving up.” He puts a page carefully to the side and begins reading the next one in the stack. “If you want any hope of finding something, it’s best to read the entire book. Do it right the first time, and you won’t have to backtrack.”

  “Ugh.” Stretching my arms above my head, I groan. “I’ve been reading for seven hours, Eldaren, with only a short lunch break. I need to get up and move around.”

  “Seven hours is not a long time, sweetheart.”

  “It is if you’re human,” I counter. “Well, whatever. I’m going for a walk. If you want to sit here all bored by yourself, so be it.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Outside.”

  “I’m coming with you.” Eldaren pushes back his chair and stands. “I could use the fresh air, too.”

  I eye him suspiciously. “I’m not going to run off, Eldaren,” I say.

  “I know,” he replies. “Your brother is here. Even if you left, it would only be a matter of time before you returned.”

  “Then why insist on coming with me?”

  Eldaren doesn’t respond. He opens his office door and strides out, and it’s all I can do to keep up with him.

  He takes me outside to the gardens. There weren’t any gardens when the elves first took up occupancy in the building, but five years have changed that. The gardens are, for the most part, located in the back, but they’re starting to sprawl their way to the sides and front of the base, as well. Trees, hedges and flower beds all line gravel paths, adding variety to the otherwise harsh scenery. There is even a small pond. “Goldfish!” I exclaim, crouching down to get a better look. “How cute.”

  “I suppose they do have a rather comical appearance,” Eldaren says, looking down at the fish circling about in th
e water.

  “They’re adorable,” I say. “Where did you find them? I’ve never seen them in person.”

  “In the wild,” Eldaren replies.

  “I always thought it wasn’t good to keep animals in captivity,” I say. “They’re supposed to be free.”

  “I might agree if the conditions of the wild weren’t deplorable,” Eldaren says.

  I shrug, feeling sheepish. “That’s fair.” The fish seem content enough in their pond, their scales ranging from orange, yellow, and red as they dart about the gravel bottom.

  We both fall silent after that. I inhale, taking in the air. It’s almost spring. The air isn’t as frigid as it once was, and I can see the trees are budding.

  “Stella, are you . . . happy, here?”

  I blink at Eldaren’s question.“I have a warm bed, good food, and I’m safe,” I reply after a minute of mulling it over. “And more importantly, Quinn is safe. I like it here.”

  “But are you happy?” Eldaren presses. I look up at him and see uncertainty and anxiety tingeing his expression. “I have read that humans take their personal happiness very seriously.”

  “As opposed to what?” His statement confuses me. “Don’t elves take stock in their happiness?”

  Eldaren shakes his head. “We do, but it’s not as important as other things, such as the safety and security of our people, and those we watch over.”

  “Hmm.” I chew the inside of my cheek, considering his question. “I’ve been scraping a living off the rocks for so long, I suppose I haven’t had time to think much about my happiness,” I say at last. I’m still crouched by the pond, and I impulsively stick my fingers in the water, trying to stroke the scales of the fish nearest me. It scuttles through the water, staying well out of reach.

  “Don’t pet the fish,” Eldaren scolds. “You might hurt them.”

  “They’re just fish,” I say, even though I don’t venture to pet them again.