“Perspective is not about what’s in front of the camera. Perspective is about the eye looking through it.”
At sixteen, that brief explanation had been a major “aha!” moment in Layla’s life. Maybe the creepy stuff she saw was just her perspective. Maybe she just had to learn to see things another way, and the frightening visions would stop. To a certain extent, it had worked until now.
Kev frowned. Talia looked uncomfortable.
“It’s easy: I am simply going to take a picture of what I see, and I see Segue half lost in shadows. What do you want to bet I can catch it on film?”
Layla lay down on the grass, which crunched beneath her, the cold leaching through her sweatshirt to cool her back.
Talia crouched beside her, while Kev stepped back to talk into his earpiece.
The framing required some light to contrast with the shadow, as well as the clear sky overhead. If she was very good, she might be able to capture a sense of castle, too. Because to her, that’s what Segue looked like. She inhaled to take in the deepness of the dark and the crisp solidity of the white. The blue above augmented the two, revealing their stark differences, not just in light, but in texture and depth.
She snapped the shot, tweaked her angle, bracketed the exposure, and shot again. Pulled back, one more time. Until she downloaded the images, she couldn’t be sure, but she thought she had it.
The viewfinder was suddenly filled with a blur of movement, and then she was hauled up.
“Hey!” she yelled as she made a grab for the camera. Kev’s better reflexes snatched it out of the air while simultaneously propelling her toward the Segue building. Talia was already a couple of yards away, almost rounding the corner.
“We’ve got to get you inside,” Kev said as he hurried her up to a jog. “I’ve just been notified of an attack.”
His tone sobered her up real quick. Was it time to die? “Wraiths?”
“Something,” he answered. Sounded like a dodge. “We’ll have to examine the bodies before we’ll know for certain.”
The sudden emergency had her blood pounding hard while her skin went clammy. Two attacks in one day. Wraiths throwing themselves against Segue security. How could the Thornes possibly cope with this kind of constant assault? The castle was under siege.
They entered on the main floor of the old hotel. Adam met them in the wide, connected corridor of elegant rooms. Talia already had a baby in her arms and was doing a nervous bounce.
“What’s going on?” Talia asked.
“We’ve got action at the main gate. A woman. Caucasian, about five-two, a hundred pounds, brown hair. Blue coat,” Adam said, but wouldn’t quite meet Layla’s eyes. “She took out six of my men before disappearing. She has to be in Middleton by now or we could track her on the thermal-imaging cameras.”
Hundred-pound woman besting six soldiers with guns. Had to be a wraith.
Why wouldn’t Adam look at her? “Was it the flying kind?”
Adam finally darted a glance. “You mean a wight. We’re working on new capture strategies. Barrow-tech. Khan suggested it the other day to Talia, and the angels have confirmed that barrows are the way to go.”
The wraith situation was just getting worse and worse. The public needed to know specifics about this threat—not the rumors and misdirection in the media. The public had a right to know about these monsters, including this new breed, the wights. Layla had no idea how to write her article, one that would instill more fear than hope, but at the very least, knowledge was power.
“I’d like to visit the attack site.”
“No.”
“But . . .”
“No.” The heavy look he gave her shut her up. Adam needed to see to the dead. She respected that. And she wanted his full attention to argue her case about the wights. It was just too damn important. The world was different now.
Then came a wait for news. Layla joined Talia and the babies in the library, close to the action, but comfortable. Talia spread a blanket on the floor and the little ones ogled up at the ceiling or attempted to roll over.
Layla’s internal panic slowly morphed through the long minutes into a generalized, slightly sick anxiety that had her jumping every time Adam stepped in the room. She decided to distract herself, snagged a laptop from a cubby, and downloaded the images she’d captured with the camera.
Two shots were blurry. It had been hard to hold the camera perfectly still when she was lying on her back, looking up at the hulk of the building. Another captured the shadow, but the crop of the image made it plausible that something mundane was casting the reaching darkness.
But there was one image that stopped her. Yes. There. That’s what she was talking about.