THERE WAS A buzzing deep in my bones. I spun around. Expecting, hoping, to find an empty room, and Abby and Liam looking at me with that what’s wrong with her look I knew so well.
And there they were, startled into silence by my abrupt turn. But they seemed faded, their figures stuttering, as if under a dying bulb. And each time they dimmed, the beast in the shadows flickered more solidly into being.
A hole in the shape of a man. Six wings, outstretched so that they filled the church—so that they were larger than the church, the very space around it warping.
I screamed. The shadow lunged for me, past the flickering images of Abby and Liam, becoming more real as they grew less so. I threw myself backward, away from it, and hit the wall hard. I scrambled sideways, diving out the door, but my foot caught, and I spilled onto the ground, scraping my knees.
A hand grabbed my arm, yanked me around. I stared, barely comprehending, into Abby’s face. Her features were blurred, streaky like looking through dirty glass. Her words distorted.
“What’s wrong? Sophia, you have to tell me what’s happening.” Behind her, in the doorway of the church, the winged creature advanced, step by step, almost curious in its approach.
I tried to speak, gasped, tried again. “There’s something there,” I managed.
“There’s nothing there,” Liam said, bewildered. He had the radio in his hand.
“It’s coming closer,” I hissed, gripping Abby’s arm. Her expression was focused, fierce. Help me, I wanted to tell her, but the words withered in my throat as my mouth turned dry with fear.
“What’s happening to her?” Liam demanded.
The creature had stopped at the threshold. It watched me—I couldn’t see its eyes, only that empty black, but I could feel them on me. The humming in my bones was painful now. Abby’s and Liam’s forms were becoming more and more indistinct.
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 emotions were creeping in, my temporary emptiness fading.
“Liam—”
His radio crackled with static, and we all jumped. Dr. Kapoor’s voice was loud and urgent: “—going on? Where are you?”
Liam fumbled the radio from his belt. “Don’t tell her anything,” Abby said urgently.
He gave her a poisonous look, but he said, “Everything’s fine.”
“We heard a scream. And then you weren’t responding.” Her voice was tight, but the relief at getting an answer was palpable.
“We didn’t hear anything,” Liam said. “From the radio, I mean. We were just . . .” He considered. “. . . horsing around,” he finished. I raised an eyebrow and mouthed Horsing around? at him. He spread his hands helplessly.
“Where are you?”
“The old town,” Liam said.
“I want you to get back here right away. We need to get back across the channel before the mist gets any worse,” Kapoor said.
The mist? I looked around. The air was hazy. The few wisps I’d seen earlier had thickened, eddying along the ground. “Crap. Yeah. We’re on our way back,” Liam said.
I took one last look behind me. The church was empty, silent and still.
We are not alone, I thought, and was glad that in that moment that I could not fear.