I squeezed my eyes shut. "He's talking to me."
Immediately, Malcolm stepped closer so that he and Andros boxed me in. "Okay. We can help." He cleared his throat and then sang out, in a ridiculously amazing tenor voice, "I've got Sunshine, on a cloudy day." He did a little shimmy in front of me and then smacked Andros on the arm. "Sing along, dammit."
Andros made a face, but haltingly started to speak the lyrics. Evan joined in, though his voice couldn't hold a candle to Malcolm's.
"Your own little boy band, how quaint. I can't wait to make them shriek for me," Claude's voice was like a snake slithering through my mind. I almost brought my hands up to physically block my ears but that would release my shadows. Gray needed them.
Instead, I watched my crew as they tried to simultaneously drown out the devil whispering at my shoulder. Once they had a beat, Malcolm had started clapping to it. And though he gave me silly dance moves every once in a while, the way his dark blue eyes kept roaming over my face meant that he was constantly trying to gauge where I was--if I was mentally with them, or if Claude's words had just landed another blow.
Once they finished singing "My Girl" they moved into "Just My Imagination" and that's when Gray woke up, gasping.
"What the fuck is this noise?" Gray wrinkled his nose, his voice a rasp rougher than a nail file. His eyes flickered to me and he shook his head. "I draw the line. I'll be a Sweet Butt. But I won't be a damn long-haired, auto-tuned, no-talent dance boy."
I smiled but I didn’t laugh because I could feel Claude poking at my shadows, his cold fingers touching and retreating, but searching for a way through my black shield.
I locked eyes with Gray and mouthed, “We need to run.”
“What?” he asked.
Malcolm shushed him, and Evan leaned over to explain. While Gray learned that Claude could still hear everything we said, Malcolm pulled out his phone and sent a text.
All of our phones buzzed in our pockets. I obviously couldn’t reach for mine, but Malcolm walked over and showed me what he’d written. -Let’s move until we can get to three of the bikes. Then we can ride out. Two can time jump ahead. Last bike sticks with H and shadow.-
Andros shook his head next to me. His text to Malcolm popped up in a blue bubble on Malcolm’s phone. -H can’t last that long.-
-Whoever drives that bike will have to give her a power up.- Malcolm’s reply was short and sweet.
What the fuck? Did he actually expect me to pull off having sex on a motorcycle? While it drove? Forget genius. The guy was an idiot.
-I volunteer as tribute.- Evan’s text came in first.
Z’s quickly followed. -Dick me! I mean pick me!-
The bubble of laughter in my throat popped when Claude snarled, “Whatever you’re planning won’t work. Remember, I was ahead of you at the Pinnacle. I know every move you’ll make.”
His words sank like a stone in my stomach. He was right. What the hell could we do that he wouldn’t expect? What didn’t he know? He didn’t know all the details of my childhood. He didn’t know hide and sneak. He didn’t know I could hollow out the center of my shadows. He didn’t know I could shape them, not just blast them.
Most of my life, light had been my weapon. But what if darkness could be a weapon too?
I took a deep breath, ignoring the playful bickering the guys were doing via text. And then … I let my shadows fall.
“What the fuck?” Z exclaimed.
I didn’t explain. I didn’t have time because Claude immediately flew through the air toward me, face contorted so wildly he hardly looked human.
I lifted my right palm and shot a rope of shadow at him. I yanked my hand to the side at the last minute, and the shadow curled and wrapped around his wrist. Instantly, his hand flickered and went dark.
He tried to pull away, but I wrapped my hand around that shadow as if it were a true lasso and I were a damned cowgirl.
Claude writhed—he nearly yanked my arm out of my socket when he pulled on his arm. How the fuck that was possible (since he wasn’t corporeal) was beyond me, but magic had its own logic.
When Claude realized that trying to pull away wouldn’t work, he ran right at me. I had to throw up a shield of shadow to block him.
“What’s going on?” Z’s question echoed through the warehouse.
“She’s fighting him,” Malcolm whispered back. “Now, shut the fuck up.”
I couldn’t spare a glance for the peanut gallery because I was too busy trying to figure out how to convert my shield into a weapon, an axe or a noose. But the constant yanking, near-dislocation of my arm was distracting me. Did I give that up and risk Claude attacking the guys again?
“Run!” I yelled. I let my eyes meet Andros’ for half a second.
He nodded once, and I knew he understood my command without me having to say it. “Z, grab Gray.” He latched onto Malcolm and in the blink of an eye, the two of them disappeared. Z was only a split-second behind. Evan hardly had a chance to run his hand through his hair and looked surprised before Andros was back, scooping him up.
As soon as Andros had used his magic to speed himself and Evan to safety, I transformed my shadow shield into an axe of darkness and swiped at Claude’s head.
But the fucker ducked and then… disappeared. Just like Dad used to after he visited with me.
Shit.
I let my shadows dissolve.
That’s when something ice cold plunged into my chest and squeezed my heart.
Pain.
It took everything I had to think beyond that one word. And my only thought was shadow. I closed my eyes and imagined blackness filling up my chest cavity, spilling down my abdomen, bubbling up my throat and then coating me like a second skin. The more my shadows spread, the more the cold retreated until I heard Claude hiss.
“Fucking bitch.”
I smiled at his rage and then I pictured shadow glasses—darkening my vision like sunglasses—descending over my eyes. It took far more energy than my light did, it seemed to pull from deeper inside of me, drained me faster. But it was necessary. I made certain, one last time, that I was covered head to toe in shadow armor. Then I opened my eyes, ready to face my stepfather.
He stood just to my right, appearing solid, but the camping chair overlapped and interrupted his legs in odd, very disorienting ways.
Claude lifted a hand, smug arrogance marring his features. Nothing happened.
“Magic doesn’t work when you’re dead, idiot,” I sneered, creating a shadow throwing star and lobbing it in his direction. He leaned to the side, easily ducking it.
Growling, he barreled for me.
I had no idea if my shadow armor would hold up, or how long I could hold it. It already felt like it was fraying behind my calves. I needed a better weapon.
Think! I screamed at myself as Claude latched onto me and I felt the tingling of cold on the back of my legs. It stretched up, locking up my knees and making me tumble backward, smacking my shoulders and head against the concrete.
I need something he can’t duck, something he can’t pull out of… I wished Malcolm were here to brainstorm with me. For some reason, that thought led to another of Malcolm. A memory. Me and him in a study room. Playing the dot game.
I lifted my hands and pelted out shadow dots, until they filled the entire warehouse behind us in a three-dimensional grid. A dot game I could win. The dots grew closer and closer to us, the grid expanding row by row.