Page 59 of Their Pretty Little Monster

He laughs, though his gaze holds me captive, glimmering under the lights.

“You know, every Shadowfen has a level of ability to control shadows. Most can move shadows, create puppet shows on a wall, but some are really powerful. Like transforming into a shadow completely, or like mine, I can manipulate it to do my will, allowing me to touch others from a distance or move objects, to mention a few.” He reaches over and strokes my cheek, his touch as tender and sensual as his shadow had been the other night. “What about yours, Sage?” He offers me a soft look and takes my elbow, leading us into a walk.

I shake my head, still coming to terms with his reveal about shadows, racking my mind if I’ve had any encounters with shadows.

“I haven’t experienced anything.”

Then we’re walking quickly, and I’m speeding along just to keep up with his long strides.

“Do you know who my real father is?” The words blurt out, but he’s rushing me, and I’m tired of being kept in the dark.

His expression darkens slightly, glancing over at me as if it’s something he wasn’t expecting me to ask.

“This is a much larger discussion to be had, and I can’t do it justice in a few moments. I will come find you after my meeting, all right?” His words are final, his face slightly pale. Then, with a final squeeze of my elbow, he strides ahead, vanishing down a dark hallway.

“That went terribly,” I mumble to myself. He couldn’t run away faster.

Frustration bubbles up inside me. He’s going to avoid me, isn’t he? What annoys me the most is that next to him, my body reacts in ways it shouldn’t. I’m drawn to him, and I hate that I find him so attractive that I forget my thoughts.

But he’s a monster, and I need to remind myself where I am—a dangerous world.

I grew up my whole life believing I’d never find out who my father was. Now that I have the chance, I’m not going to give up on it. He will tell me.

By the time I’m up on the top floor, knocking on the heavy wooden doors that lead into the ritual room, my stomach knots return. There’s no response, just the eerie silence, and I glance down at the stone in my hand.

What the hell are you, and why should I bother delivering you for Wolfe?

Yet, here I am, pushing the door open. I guess it’s because I’m honest to a fault, even to a monster.

A soft breath behind me makes me pause.

I turn, but there’s no one there. I recall Wolfe’s explanation about Shadowfen possessing a shadow ability, and my skin suddenly creeps.

Entering the vast room, I call out, “Hello?” My voice is swallowed by the whistling breeze swishing through the rustling branches, a chill rushing up my arms.

The woods stretch out before me, their eeriness amplified by the stormy sky visible through the open roof overhead. I stick to the stone path passing the forest, glancing at the flowers that seem out of place in this space. Farther to my left, I notice huts—offices, perhaps, or maybe living quarters?

With Wolfe’s hurried departure, my hand in my pocket, gripping the stone tightly, I hurry along.

The wind picks up, rustling the leaves and crashing into my back.

I knock on the first door. No answer. The second, the third—nothing. Irritation dances through me.

Finally, at the last door, I spot a metal latch on the door. Opening it, I discover a compartment with a couple of other stones and two scrolls all the way down where I can’t reach. A makeshift postal box, I guess. I slip the stone inside, hearing it clunk against the metal base. As I turn to leave, the breeze becomes stronger, the trees swaying wildly.

Strangely, I feel the sway of the vessel for the first time since boarding, and glancing over through the glass walls reveals the roughness of the sea, the white peaks, and the dark curtain of rain in the distance.

Time to get out of this area.

I quicken my pace, my eyes darting to the shifting shadows amid the trees.

Then, I see it—a shape in the forest, something that looks like an animal but darker, more sinister. My heart skips a beat. This can’t be right. It’s a trick of the light, and as another gust of wind blows, the shadow vanishes.

I pivot toward the exit, only to find the door closed. Panic surges through me. I left it open, didn’t I? Stop panicking. It had to be the wind from the open ceiling to the outdoors.

Something slithers out of the woods near the doorway, blocking my path.

I know I shouldn’t be scared. But my skin crawls as I watch the creature that’s easily six feet long—slithering on its belly, then rising on its back legs. It has an elongated face, sharp and reptilian, like a snake. I hate snakes. Memories of the few I saw in my village flood my mind.

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