The Shadow Prince

“He’ll be fine by morning.” If I can keep him alive until then.

 

I run through different options in my head. If the Keres has locked on to his scent, then we need to get as far away from town as we can. Maybe take him to a hospital in LA? The cut doesn’t look deep enough to warrant stitches but … no. I couldn’t risk leading a Keres into such a populated area as Los Angeles, and definitely not a hospital. Simon’s house, perhaps? Where Dax and Garrick can help … But what excuse do I make for taking Daphne and Joe there instead of home …?

 

I open the door and stand outside my car. I sniff the air to determine if the Keres is on our trail, but the smell of Joe’s vomit is too overwhelming.

 

Joe heaves again. I turn away. It sounds particularly violent.

 

“What do you think he meant by all that?” Daphne asks loudly, as if trying to cover up the sound of her father’s indiscretions with her question. “What he said about trading me for fame and fortune?”

 

“I don’t know.” I’d pass it off as alcohol-addled ramblings if his words about the devil coming to collect hadn’t hit so close to the mark. “Maybe he really regrets not being there for you as a kid. Like he traded your childhood for his career.”

 

“Do you really think so?” Daphne almost sounds hopeful.

 

“Daphne. Come here,” Joe moans. “I need your help.”

 

She sighs and pushes open her door. “I am not going to hold your weave back as you puke, Joe.”

 

“Dappphhhnnneeee?” he says with a whiny urgency that makes me look at him. He sways in the glow of a street lamp, looking as though he’s about to fall over. “Have I always had two shadows?” he asks, pointing at his feet.

 

“What?” she asks.

 

I hear her gasp as she sees what I see. Joe does indeed have two shadows. One is shorter, about half his height in length, but the other stretches out to the border of the lamplight.

 

I suddenly feel as though a cold wind has wrapped around me and pierced into my bones. Two shadows. Two shadows. The Keres has been with us all along. It’s attached itself to Joe. He’ll be dead in a matter of minutes.

 

“What the …?” Daphne starts to say as the second, long shadow suddenly curls forward and rises up off the pavement.

 

I toss my car keys at her. “Drive,” I say. “Get out of here!”

 

Joe moans and clutches at his chest, and starts to convulse as if having a seizure. I know better. The Keres is draining the life out of him.

 

“No,” Daphne says, throwing the keys right back at me. “Joe!” She runs toward her father, but the shadow swirls around him, wrapping him in a transparent black cocoon. “What’s happening?!”

 

A surge of lightning builds in my chest, but I don’t know what to do with it. What if I throw it at the Keres, and it merely passes through it and strikes Joe? That would kill him faster than the evil bloodsucker that has him in its clutches. Blue light webs between my fingers, and then engulfs my hand and arm. I can feel it burning the fabric of my shirtsleeve off my arm. It will incinerate my skin next, if I don’t throw it soon. I look up at the street lamp above Joe. I pour all my concentration into shaping the crackling wisps of lightning into a blue sphere.

 

“Get back!” I shout at Daphne.

 

She looks at me. Her eyes widen as she takes in the ball of lightning I cradle in my hand. I am breaking another one of the steadfast Champion rules by letting her see me this way. I have no choice but to expose my powers in front of her, I tell myself. Either that, or let her watch her father die.

 

“Haden, what …?”

 

“Get out of the way.”

 

She twists out of the way, and I fling the lightning at the street lamp. An explosion of light and glass follows. The Keres sends a screeching, shrieking wail into the night, but it doesn’t flee like it did before when Lexie was the victim.

 

Has it already figured out that it doesn’t have to be afraid of my lightning?

 

The Keres forces Joe to the ground. He wails in pain, calling Daphne’s name. Another bolt of lightning works its way through my body. Do I dare take a shot directly at the beast?

 

Daphne steps in front of me. She plants her feet—staring down at the shadow creature—and screams.

 

Not out of fear. Not out of anger. But in a determined, deliberate way, focusing her voice right at the black, writhing cocoon. The force of it reminds me of the stories of banshees I heard as a child. The timbre and tone match the horrible, screeching wail that comes from the Keres. The shadow unwinds from Joe, and for a few seconds, the Keres becomes solid, looking like a statue of a monstrous, black, stone angel. Its giant wings bristle, its claws outstretch, its terrible, jagged teeth protrude from its jaws. It flings itself at Daphne, becoming shadow once more.

 

“Scream again!” I shout at Daphne.

 

She throws her hands out in front of her defensively and shrieks.

 

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