Page 43 of Every Shade of Shadow

“Apology accepted,” I say, sitting up. “But tell me, do they ever catch the…” I can’t even say it.

“Killer?” she fills, nodding. “There was this one girl,” she says, making eye contact with me for a brief moment before running her hand through her hair. “Happened about five months ago. And no, they didn’t. They never do. But I’m pretty sure it’s the same person. Same M.O.”

“Christ,” I sigh, squeezing my eyes shut. “So there’s a serial killer on the loose here?”

She shrugs her shoulders. “Your guess is as good as mine. As to motive, it’s common knowledge the girl I’m talking about was really, like really into the Craft.”

“You really think Shadowcraft is getting people killed?” I speculate, a touch of irony in my voice.

“It’s just a theory, as is Darkwood being behind it, but I don’t think it’s him.”

Perhaps she hasn’t seen Darkwood in all his brutal glory like I have.

Lily pushes off the desk, brushing herself down even though there’s nothing there. “I’m going to hit the cafeteria—again. Given it’s lunch and all.

I hadn’t even noticed. I feel like it’s been minutes, not hours.

“The place is going to be manic,” Lily continues. “It’s like a full moon when classes are suspended. Everyone goes nuts. You in?”

I shake my head, my stomach definitely not ready for food yet. “No, thanks.”

“Okey-dokey,” Lily nods, heading out, the room somehow more silent than usual when she’s gone.

I bum around for a bit, fiddle with my laptop, but eventually decide to dress and head back to the roof.

When I step out into the hall, everything is gone—the body, the privacy shield, the professors… It’s like it never even happened save for the lingering stench of bleach.

I return to the roof, where rain has begun to drench the stone. It’s a mild rain—my favorite kind. I like the dull sound it makes, the floating waves of it, like murmurs, across the forest.

A shimmer to my left steals my attention.

I turn, and there he is: Damien Darkwood.

Teleportation again—impressive and certainly of the more serious magical ilk. It not only takes a shitload of focus but fuck it up and you’ll teleport yourself between two walls and subsequently find yourself in two pieces. Worse, you can teleport yourself right into the ground—just up and bury yourself alive. So no thanks. No teleportation for me.

People think there’s this big flash of light when something, or someone, is teleported, a spectacle, but the truth is, apart from a slight shift of light, something simply appears—simply pops right into focus.

Maybe he’ll pop right into your room again, I wonder.

Darkwood acknowledges me with a nod, his gaze softer today. “You seem troubled.”

“Shouldn’t I be?” I laugh, crossing my arms over my chest. “Someone was found dead twenty feet from my room.”

“Mmm,” he nods, scanning the rooftop to make sure we’re alone. “Your pretty head must be full of questions right now.” The rain makes his eyes appear brighter, more prominent.

“Yes,” I admit, pressing my lips together. “But I don’t imagine I’ll get any answers, will I?”

He lets out a short laugh. “On the contrary. Dinner, tonight, in my chambers. Shall we say, seven o’clock?”

“Your chambers?”

That fuck-you-senseless smile settles on his features, but I can’t tell if it’s malice or mirth I see there. “I will collect you.”

He evaporates completely, a tiny pinprick of light marking where he just stood before me.

‘Collect you’—because that’s all I am.

An object.

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