Page 96 of The Shadows Beyond
She looked between the two objects in her hand until Julien gently released her from both of them. “It’s my turn.”
Cinn had forgotten about the apparent need to use saliva to turn the power into a paste, so his stomach gave a lurch when Julien spat into the mortar before using the pestle to mix it together. Julien was going to have to rub his spit into the part of Cinn’s stomach outlined with the inked circle. But then he supposed he’d had far more involvement with his other bodily fluids, so this should pale in comparison.
If their bedroom conversation hadn’t ended so poorly, Cinn might have found Julien’s fingers back on him sensual, but Julien completed the task with precision and haste.
When the rib bone came out of the bag, he couldn’t help but stare at it in the light of day. It appeared delicate yet robust, its ivory-white, subtle curvature gleaming gently. He’d held it in his hands, that night he’d snapped it from Béatrice’s corpse. The sickening sound of its reluctant yield would be one he carried to his own grave.
The moment he’d jumped down into the casket and surveyed Béatrice’s skeleton in its entirety was something he’d never forget. Layersof silky blue material forming a puffy dress, encasing off-white bones that mapped out the body of a girl so loved they’d dug her grave up.
It had certainly been an experience he was glad he’d spared Julien from.
As Julien scooped the rest of the paste onto his fingers to spread on the rib, the slightest shake to his hand gave him away. Elliot attempted to take over, reaching his hands out towards him, but Julien batted him away, finishing the job quickly and pressing the rib to Cinn’s stomach.
“Sorry. Is that okay?” Julien asked Cinn without looking at him.
Cinn removed his gold band. “It’s fine. I’m ready.”
Darcy came forward and wiggled a bottle of creamy lotion at him. “I’ve got this ready for if the ink starts to react with your skin again. And here.” She presented the stimulant, the vile-tasting crystal powder for him to rub into his gums. He licked his finger before pressing it into the tin.
“See you on the other side,” he said to the three tense faces. Julien opened his mouth, on the verge of saying something, but Cinn quickly swiped the crystals around his mouth and sank back onto the table.
He’d accidentally consumed far more of the powder than last time, and he felt it. A gasp tore out of him as his adrenaline levels shot up alarmingly quickly, every nerve tingling with a sudden surge of electric intensity, his heart pounding in his chest like a thunderous drumbeat.
The others might have been expressing concern, but he couldn’t hear them, the familiar low buzzing the only sound. The world greyed. Cinn closed his eyes and let himself fall. Let himself slip.
twenty-three
Cinn
When he awoke, not to his ruined red hellscape city, but instead into a field of daisies, the tiniest shard of disappointment threaded through the realisation. Even though the shadowrealm London was not the slice of home he’d ideally want to visit, he couldn’t deny his excitement at recognising it last time, and starting to unravel its mysteries.
So, where exactly was he, then?
He climbed to his feet. The field was vast, an expanse of white flowers that stretched for a mile. The bright sun warmed his bare back, while a light breeze pleasantly brushed across the ground, sending the daisies waving back and forth.
All that was missing was an ice cream, and he’d be set for a nice afternoon.
Shame that he was here to interrogate a dead woman.
He spun, about to choose a direction at random, when a childlike laugh came bursting out from a treeline on his right.
“Béatrice?” he called, and was rewarded with another gleeful laugh.
Moving quickly, he darted towards the sound, entering the crowded thicket of trees. A sense of urgency enveloped him. Sunlight played hide-and-seek through the leaves overhead as he wove between towering trunks, a rhythmic crunch of twigs beneath his hurried footsteps.
Every time he thought he was about to close in on the laugh, it sounded again, equidistant from him.
Then, he saw it: a flash of white fabric that disappeared behind a large pine tree. He shouted her name again to no avail—she was gone by the time he reached it.
Gritting his teeth, he pressed forward. If he woke up and had to tell the others he’d spent the entire trip lost in a forest, he’d not be pleased.
A soft, golden glow began to filter through a diminishing canopy. Sunlight hit on an earthy path, as if revealing it to him. Emerging from the woodland shadows, he found himself on the threshold of another green expanse, this time a vast greenery alive with a sea of poppies, scarlet petals greeting him with their dancing wave.
More laughter, but this time more than one voice. He squinted across the field to spot three figures in the distance. Taking tentative steps towards them, he soon saw a family: two blonde children, around ten years or so, sat on a red checkered picnic blanket, on either side of a beautiful blonde woman, vaguely recognisable from Béatrice’s locket. Their mother.
Was this a memory, or an imagined projection from Béatrice? He hoped it was the former. The trio’s enjoyment of the day was irrefutable—Julien was merrily munching on an apple, legs kicked out, looking up at the clouds as they drifted languidly across the blue sky.
If only it had all stayed this way for you.
