Page 20 of The Shadows Beyond
Darcy shook her head, face crumpled in disbelief.
“I guess the cold war finally heated up,” said Julien. He raised his arm—a patch of his black wool trench coat had been roughly burned off, the edges surrounding the scorched area curling slightly. “Quite literally. At least they seem to have put out those flames, though.”
What remained of the burned structure smouldered, but Julien was correct—no red flames lingered. Orders were now being shouted for everyone to go home.
“Wait here while I check if they need me,” Elliot shouted over his shoulder as he sprinted towards the gendarmerie.
“November the fifth. This isn’t a coincidence,” Darcy said to Julien. “You know what this means.”
Before he could be left yet again in the dark, Cinn looked at Darcy expectantly to ask, “What isn’t a coincidence?”
Of course, she deferred to Prince Julien, apparent leader and keeper of all information. When Julien said nothing, Cinn turned and stomped off—admittedly vaguely—towards where he hoped the car was, to sulk by himself. If they wanted privacy to talk about their oh-so-secret things, they could have it.
Swimming against the crowd, who were clearly ignoring the request to bugger off, Cinn pushed his way through and wandered the streets untilhe found the small car park, nestled in a small dip. Julien’s ridiculously shiny black car, ‘Maz’—he rolled his eyes—was easy to spot, even in the fading light.
He leaned against the car door for a while, wondering if smearing fingerprints on Julien’s windows would be appropriate revenge. Before he could enact his plan, the three musketeers arrived. Julien remotely unlocked the door, and Elliot made for the passenger side.
“Wait,” Julien said, and Elliot froze. “Let Cinn sit in the front.”
A look crossed Elliot’s face, so dark that Cinn braced for some sort of outburst. But after a beat, Elliot moved out of Cinn’s way.
It wasn’t until they’d cleared the queue out of the car park that Julien said, “We’re more than happy to tell you everything, Cinn. It just wasn’t the right time or place back there.”
Why did Cinn get the feeling he was parroting a script written by Darcy?
“So, start talking then. What’s the big deal with today’s date?”
Julien expelled a heavy breath, lightly drumming the wheel. “Before we get to that, you should first know that a few months ago, my younger sister, Béatrice, died.”
Cinn’s head snapped towards Julien before he could tamp down his abrupt reaction. Julien’s expression was tightly controlled, but Cinn caught the swallow of his throat.
“I’m… very sorry for your loss.”
“The official line is that it was a tragic accident. However, we believe she was murdered.”
Out of the windscreen, the last drops of sunlight fell behind the hill. It took with it the last remnants of Cinn’s energy—because these three were about to be sorely disappointed. “Is this what you meant when you said you needed my help? Because, if so, you should know that I’m not a telephone to the dead. Not by a long stretch.”
A hand squeezed his arm. “Of course we know that, Cinn,” said Darcy from the back seat. “And we would completely respect your decision not to help us. We understand that shadowslipping is probably very traumatic for you, and wouldn’t want to cause you any stress.”
Something in her tone suggested some of what she said was aimed at Julien.
“I don’t have much—okay,any—control over it,” said Cinn quietly. “I’ve never done it on purpose before and I’ve certainly not tried tofindanyone there.” The idea was laughable.
“We have some knowledge of what we could try, with your full permission,” Darcy said softly.
These idiots did know that four people died last time he shadowslipped, right? “I can’t risk bringing anything…anyone… back. It’s only happened a handful of times over the years, but last time…”
Darcy squeezed his arm again. “I believe our method will be completely—relatively—safe, Cinn. However, the choice is entirely yours.”
“And you’re here to learn, aren’t you?” said Elliot. Nothing was inherently wrong with what he said, but it prickled Cinn’s skin, nevertheless.
“Yes, Elliot, but not from experimenting with our every whim,” Darcy hissed.
“Everything we’ve tried so far from your book of tricks has got us nowhere.”
“That still doesn’t mean we can demand he do this for us, with very little in it for him!”
An idea struck Cinn. A solution to at least one of his problems. “I’ll do it. Well, try to, or whatever.”
