Enough, I thought fiercely, and shoved the feelings out. This time, the void was waiting. It devoured my fear, devoured everything, scraping me empty to the bone. The world grew sharp edges, the clarity of a still mind. I could feel the grit of sand and stone beneath my palms, see the weathered grain of the wood planks of the church, hear the raucous calling of the terns. There was something in their calls that matched the thrum in my bones, and matched, too, the strange vibration the creature was making, almost too low to hear, a sound I could feel in my chest, rising and falling and twisting in strange notes.
“I can hear it,” I said softly.
A sharp pain lanced through my arm, and I yelped, yanking it against my body.
The world shuddered, and righted itself. Liam and Abby were solid again, clear. The door of the church stood empty.
My arm was bleeding just above my wrist. My sleeve had ridden up, and there was a slice across the skin, deep enough that it throbbed. Abby had a knife in one hand, the edge stained red. “Why did you do that?” I asked—my tone slightly puzzled, detached. Abby’s brow furrowed at me, and I realized that wasn’t how I should sound.
“What the hell was that?” Liam asked. He quivered with unspent tension, like he wasn’t sure whether to rush toward me or stay the hell away.
I was glad of the void, because I knew this part too well. The first time I lost control, it was to fear. I was five years old, and it was the first week of school. Clarissa McKenzie asked me to play with her at recess. We were dashing around the playground when I collapsed and started screaming in sheer terror.
Clarissa didn’t play with me after that. That was the first time I learned that I wasn’t the sort of person who got to have friends. And now Liam had seen it too. This incident wasn’t the same—there wasn’t a rush of emotion this time. But from his perspective, I’d freaked out over nothing.
And that would be that.
He looked at me with wide eyes, and I braced myself. “What was happening? What was in the church?” he asked.
I blinked. He hadn’t said, What’s wrong with you? “I don’t know,” I said, more confused than relieved. He wasn’t backing away—why wasn’t he backing away? Calling me nuts? Telling me to stay the hell away from him? I looked at Abby. I needed to focus. I couldn’t worry about Liam.
Not yet.
“It was huge. It was—like it was made of shadows. It had wings. Six of them. But it was a person. You and Liam were getting blurry, and it was getting clearer, and there was this sound . . .” I faltered, unable to describe it further.
“I thought there was something wrong with my eyes,” Liam said.
“You got blurry, too,” Abby explained. “And kind of . . . pale? It was like you were translucent, but not to look at. It was more like it got harder to know you were there.”
“Why don’t you sound freaked out by that?” Liam asked with a note of panic.
She ignored him. “Did it seem like that thing was coming after you?” she asked me.
“I’m not sure,” I said. “It didn’t leave the church. But it was looking at me. I almost felt like it was trying to figure out who I was.”
“Time out,” Liam said, making a big T with his hands. “You are both acting like this is mildly upsetting but largely expected, but may I remind you that there aren’t six-winged shadow monsters. That is not a thing that exists in this world!”
“No, not this one,” Abby agreed. She stood, helping me to my feet. I had a hand around my wrist, but the bleeding had mostly stopped.
“Why did you cut me?” I asked.
“You were completely fixated. Sometimes things need you focused on them to affect you, so I distracted you. I guess it worked.” She sounded breathless, and in my hollowed-out state it took me a moment to recognize it as fear. I’d had this idea of her as implacable, untroubled by strangeness, but she held on to my hand well after I’d gotten my balance back.
“What were you going to do if it hadn’t?”
“Improvise,” she said with a shaky laugh.
“This is not happening,” Liam declared, lacing his hands on top of his head, but it was a weak protest. I bit my lip. New