carry the banner of their cause. Had he just thrown it all away to tumble down a rabbit hole?
He shivered as he remembered the green book Alex had given him when he had been a boy. The gold-leaf title was emblazoned on his memory: Alice in Wonderland. They had read that book cover to cover more times than he cared to imagine. That was the night Alex had first told him about his destiny, when they had begun their journey together.
Now it ends with another idiot tumbling down a hole in the ground. How bloody poetic.
The darkness didn’t last long. The slope evened out and he passed the first of the torches, its light blinding even though he had been on the surface only a short while ago; he realised how thin and empty the blue-grey light that spilled over Radden County was. Now that the gradient had vanished, he could see all along the tunnel’s length, and in the distance he could make out a brighter space, an opening that sent his already racing heart into overdrive.
All thoughts of Alex melted away as he pulled himself along. He wasn’t walking anymore—the itch in his legs had taken over completely. He was being hauled along like a puppet on strings.
This must be what the pigeons feel like. It feels like flying.
The air was growing colder with each moment. Despite the flaming torches lining the walls in such an enclosed space, he was shivering in moments, not from the macabre surroundings, but from the chill. His breath puffed in vapour before his eyes, and he heard the crackle of ice crystals forming on his clothes.
By now he was almost sure he was flying. He couldn’t feel his legs moving at all.
The cavern was only feet away, and beyond, he sensed movement. Something was in there waiting for him. He was moving so fast and there was no stopping it, and he endured momentary panic, windmilling his arms. But there was no forestalling it now. He had arrived.
The tunnel ended and he passed into a cave the size of a small cottage. The light here came from old wax candles which burned with an acrid odour, and the walls were smooth and pure black. Delphic inscriptions had been carved into them in undulating messy lines; not the beauteous work of some ancient scribe, but more like the last scratchings of a thousand trapped madmen.
The cavern was cold and bright, empty bar a single hardwood desk at its centre, inset with a brass crest the size of a bicycle wheel, depicting a swinging pendulum. And sat there, upon a leather stool with his feet perched casually up on the desk top, was Him.
The man from his vision. The man with the dark marks under his eyes. He was staring at James with the expression of a wolf that has cornered its prey. He almost expected him to lick his lips with relish. As James emerged from the tunnel, He spread his arms wide and gestured to a free stool in front of the desk. “Mr Chadwick, at last,” he said.
His voice was smooth and seductive, and James felt sick at the sound of it. How easy it would be to fall under its sweet spell.
He blinked. The itch had gone, suddenly and totally. His knees almost buckled, and he stumbled forward toward the desk.
Is this it, then? Have I really gone mad?
“No, not mad,” the man said, grinning such that a mouthful of shining sharp teeth glowed in the light. “You’ve woken up, is all. Now you’re seeing, really seeing.”
Did he just read my mind?
“Don’t let it fool you. It’s just a parlour trick,” the man said. His eyes glimmered with amusement.
James stepped closer, drawn forward by his mesmerising gaze. “Who are you?”
“I’m so glad you asked that, because I love this part.” He kicked his feet off the desk and stood up, tracing its edge and running his fingertips over the brass crest. His hands took flight over his head and he began gesticulating grandly, his voice lyrical and otherworldly. “I am no one thing. I’ve walked alien forests in a cloak of tar, bringing darkness to purple skies, and those between the trees called me Nightfall. Elsewhere I’ve walked the coast of an endless ocean in the guise of a wolf. Over mountaintops made islands by the thickest clouds, I’ve flown as the Raven. The eons have given me many names. I am Shadow, I am the Eventide, I am the