Shadowed (Fated)

Chapter 53



They were ready, all of them lined up along the perimeter wall. The Originals must have felt them from a mile away. They may as well have attached sirens to themselves and blue flashing lights.

Evie glanced over at Cyrus. He hadn’t said a word for several minutes, which had to be a record. The ribbons of muscle along his shoulders and running up the nape of his neck were taut as steel cables, his lips corpse-white. He was working hard to give an appearance of calm, but she could hear his heart beating double time. Her own was keeping pace. Sweat was snaking trails down her back and she was having to force herself to hold steady. Crossing the wall felt like declaring war. A war she didn’t know if any of them would survive.

Jamieson had shifted into a squirrel and climbed the wall to provide a visual. On his cue, Cyrus boosted Evie up the wall. She grabbed hold of the top and hauled herself up, dropping to the ground on the other side, blade in her hand. Cyrus landed in a silent crouch beside her half a second later. The others appeared spaced out at fifteen-metre intervals, all except Vero, who was perched instead on top of the wall with her crossbow fixed to her shoulder, and Jamieson, who sat beside her, shifted back now into human form. Evie worried about him. He couldn’t shift into a bird any more to escape, not with a broken arm, but he’d insisted on coming along anyway.

She didn’t stop to think about it for long. Her gaze was drawn immediately to the way through. It stood as a solid curtain of fire between the trees. She blinked at the brightness, at the strangeness of it hanging there, as though a shooting star had fallen from the sky and embedded itself into the lawn, its tail still blazing.

For a moment she considered Cyrus’s words to her, his absolute conviction that she wasn’t the White Light. Should she ignore him and try to close it anyway? What if … She didn’t have a chance to follow the thought anywhere.

They’d appeared. As though magicked out of thin air. Seven of them – three males and four females, striding across the lawn to meet them. Their pace was measured, almost rehearsed. They didn’t come at them in a whirling blaze of movement and rage. And in a way that made it more sinister. Every hair on Evie’s body stood on end. It felt like the world had just drawn a breath and was pausing before a final exhalation.

It wasn’t their clothes that Evie noticed – a random selection of garments, most probably culled from the wardrobe of the house they were squatting in, nor their absolute stillness. It was the lack of any expression on their faces. They were as blank as runway models – the hard glint of their eyes the only evidence that something was going on behind the stone facades. And maybe she was imagining it but all their eyes seemed to be focusing on just one thing – her.





The Originals stopped in a line, ranged across from them, though the strongest and tallest of them seemed to have positioned themselves opposite her.

A couple stood back, posting themselves in front of the way through, silhouetted against it. Was it that important to them to keep it open? Why? Hadn’t they slaughtered everyone in all the other realms? Evie’s mind skittered over these thoughts, unable to focus on anything now, other than the unhumans standing opposite. What were they waiting for?

Evie locked eyes with the one opposite her. She looked to be barely out of her teens, with a mop of curly blonde hair and big blue eyes, and Evie had to remind herself that even though she looked like Taylor Swift this girl would sooner rip her head off than sing her a song about a broken heart.

She squeezed the hilt of her blade and said a silent prayer as a whisper of wind shot past her ear.

The Original standing in front of Flic, a girl with flaming red hair who looked like she belonged in a pre-Raphaelite painting, flew backwards with a sickening scream, the tip of an arrow embedded in her chest.

Thank you, Vero.

Vero let loose a second arrow, this time aiming at the male standing opposite Ash.

The man’s hand flew up so fast it was a blur. Evie blinked, trying to compute. He’d caught the arrow between his fingers and was now studying it curiously, as though trying to figure out what it was made of. Then, quicker than lightning he twirled it in his fingers and whipped it straight back in Vero’s direction.

Evie heard Vero scream and turned in time to see her fall in a tangle of limbs, landing with a thud on the ground. The arrow tip was sticking out of her arm, near her shoulder. Evie paused, half-twisted towards Vero, wanting to run to her, seeing Ash out of the corner of her eye thinking the same. But they weren’t given the chance.

On some unspoken cue the Originals ran at them.





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