“Simon does not fancy me.”

  “Please, anyone could see it. I reckon he prayed to the Mother for you to get sick so he could brew a potion or something up, just to bring to you in person.”

  “You’re chatting rubbish.”

  “Really? You telling me he doesn’t get flustered around you?”

  Clay shoved some pie in his mouth, chewing slowly. Simon was a sweet guy who was shy and so not into him like that. He was shy with everyone.

  Ash shrugged and continued with her meal.

  Once he was done with his mouthful, Clay changed the subject. “So how are you going to play this thing with the Traders?”

  “No idea.”

  “Oh.”

  “Don’t look so worried. I’ll have Daemon with me.”

  “It’s my job to worry. But if anyone is to have your back, I’m glad it’s him.”

  “He’s a good man.”

  Clay didn’t say anything, just watched his sister play with her food.

  Eventually, she looked up. “You better come back in one piece.” She pointed her fork at him.

  “Believe me, I intend to.”

  “Cal is good muscle. Your friend seems to be clued up on all things Shadowland.”

  “He’ll be an excellent guide and creature dodger.”

  “I wish I could come with you,” Ash said.

  Though his nerves were on edge, he was feeling okay. This had to happen.

  “I could do with a drink,” Ash said. “I’ll check the fridge.”

  She found a bottle of cream soda and retrieved two glasses from a cupboard.

  “Forgot to tell you I love your outfit,” Ash said, pouring the beverage.

  Clay rolled his eyes. “Badass?”

  “If you say so.”

  “All the rage in Saul.”

  “Just picturing that.” She leaned over and fingered the material. “How do you breathe in it? Talk about figure-hugging!”

  “Surprisingly comfortable, actually.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep.”

  “How the hell is it so clean?”

  “Mother only knows.”

  “Do you think it’s enchanted?”

  Clay shrugged.

  Ash caught her bottom lip between her teeth and picked up a spoonful of mash. He saw the intention in her eyes just before she flicked the dollop at his shirt.

  It smacked his pec and slid off.

  Ash moved in to examine the spot. “Wow, not even a smear.”

  Clay stared at her. “Did you enjoy doing that?”

  Her face was dead pan but the twinkle in her eye gave her away. “Of course not. It was an experiment, nothing more.”

  “Really?” Clay scooped up some mash and Ash’s eyes widened.

  She held up her hands. “Whoa! I’m not wearing magic clothes.”

  “I know.” He flicked the dollop at her face where it stuck to her cheek with a splat.

  She wiped it off and popped it in her mouth. “Your clothes may be impervious to food but I’m pretty sure they’re not resistant to tickles.”

  His heart stuttered. “No...”

  She wiggled her fingers. “Oh yes!”

  She attacked and the next few minutes were filled with the sound of indignant chuckles and exaggerated manic laughter.

  CLAY

  “If they see you as a monster, you run,” Avery said.

  Clay hoped it didn’t come to that. He hadn’t really thought about it until now, and from the look on Ash’s face he realised neither had she.

  “And if they see me as a monster...then what?”

  His question was directed at Ash but it was Avery that answered.

  “Then we will find another way, but do not, under any circumstances, try to convince them otherwise. You know what they almost did to your sister.”

  Ash leaned in for a hug. “Be safe”

  “I’ll see you soon.”

  She kissed his cheek and their embrace ended. There was a lump in his throat. He’d only just got her back. Leaving her was a bitch, but his gut told him she would be safe with Daemon.

  “I’m going back inside,” Ash said. “I don’t want to watch you leave.”

  “Good thinking,” Clay said.

  “Wait,” Avery said. “I’ll come with you. Take care, all of you. Remember, do not take risks, and if you have to abort this mission then you do. I want no more death.”

  “We will,” Cal said.

  Avery nodded. “See you soon.”

  He left with Ash, who turned to offer Clay a wave before going inside. Once the door closed, Clay drew a deep breath, his soul heavy.

  “Ready?” Asmeus said.

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  ***

  The Shadowlands were quiet and still, not one Shadow stirred, and there were no sounds of life other than the trotting of the mule and the wheels of the wagon. Nonetheless, Cal, scanned the surroundings with keen vigilance, holding firm to the reigns, and Clay expected an attack at any moment because that’s what happened in this damned place.

  He sat next to Asmeus in the wagon, on edge, pleading with the Mother to make the journey as swift and problem-free as possible—including a smooth talk with the people of Shelter. They had some machetes for weapons, but that did little to make him feel safe. Avery had said that in the first incident of real danger they were to abort the mission and return to Apocalypse immediately. No one was to be a hero.

  “Here we are again,” Asmeus said. “Back in the wilderness.”

  “Yeah,” Clay said.

  “Too quiet for my liking,” Cal said.

  “When was the last time you were out here?” Asmeus asked.

  “When I took Ash to Shelter,” the stone man said.

  Asmeus was smiling. “I have to say, if I were to choose another path for my life to take, it wouldn’t be a wandering man. But that was the hand I was dealt. I made it work, slipping through the realms, learning to survive. Believe me, there have been times when I almost popped my clogs.”

  “What does that mean?” Clay said.

  Asmeus chuckled. “Just a form of expression that means die.”

  “Popped my clogs,” Clay repeated.

  “Or popped me clogs.”

  Clay laughed. Asmeus’s voice was a soothing distraction from all that surrounded them.

  Cal glanced back at him. “Where exactly are you from?”

  “Everywhere.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “It’s the best answer I have, although I wasn’t always a traveller. I had a home once, but it was so long ago that it seems like a beautiful dream now, a dream that turned into a nightmare.”

  Clay knew he was staring, but his curiosity was piqued. He wanted to crack open the skull beneath those red-gold curls and scoop out the story, but something about Asmeus’s tone, the sudden pensive set to his mouth warned him not to press.

  Asmeus met his gaze and smiled softly.

  Clay averted his gaze, sometimes the Shadowlander’s regard was too much.

  “I get that,” Cal said. “We all have stuff that hurts us. No one is free of that.”

  “Very true.”

  “I’m sorry you were made to do this, Cal,” Clay said.

  Cal didn’t look at him. “Don’t worry about it. You need some protection and I’m good at that.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Besides, we all owe you after what you did with the wards.”

  Clay cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the blanket of silence that had fallen over everything. “So, Cal, I saw you weaving with needles.”

  “Crochet.”

  “Looks interesting.”

  “It is.”

  Asmeus laid a hand on Clay’s arm and leaned in close. “You don’t need to try so hard,” he whispered.

  “I’m not.” He hesitated a moment. “So, erm, are you working on any particular project at the moment, Cal?”

  “You really want to talk about crochet, or is it that the silence too much for you?”

  “No, I want to know. I’m interested in how things work.”

  “You like to make and fix,” Cal said. “I heard.”

  There was a beat of silence.

  “I’m working on a blanket.”

  “How’s it going?”

  He shot a cursory look over his shoulder. “Good. You better not be mocking me.”

  “Why would I mock you?”

  “Big stone man who likes making blankets—some folk find that hilarious.”

  “Well those folk are close-minded if you ask me. Who made the rules on who should do what based on what you look like? If you want to crochet, then crochet. Screw what anyone else thinks. At least you’ve got a thing. Don’t let anyone’s judgemental crap ever stop you from being you.”

  “Here, here,” Asmeus said.

  “Crochet helps me relax, takes me off to a happy place,” Cal said matter-of-factly.

  “Like me with reading,” Asmeus said.

  “As long as it makes you happy,” Clay said.

  He left it there.

  Cal hadn’t exactly fully thawed, but at least Clay had made some sort of effort. He didn’t want the guy to despise him, but he’d see what happened. Maybe he was trying too hard, and maybe this wasn’t the right situation to care about such stuff. It was just that they were going to be living in close proximity and he was...trying too hard. Yep, that was the truth of it, if he were brutally honest.

  As if reading his mind, Asmeus patted his arm as if to say ‘there, there’ and placate him.

  “Cusp up ahead,” Cal said.

  Soon they passed through the shimmering entrance of the Beyond and into the grey wasteland that was the Cusp.

  “I took Ash on a similar shortcut when I took her home that time.”

  “Thank goodness for shortcuts,” Asmeus said.

  Cal pulled on the reigns and stopped the mule.

  “What is it?” Clay said.

  “Critter,” Cal said.

  Asmeus hopped out of the wagon. “We need to take it down. It’s too close.”

  Clay heard the scuttling.

  “Sounds small,” Asmeus said. “Alone.”

  “We can’t be sure of that,” Cal said. “But you’re right, we can’t risk an ambush.”

  Clay drew his machete, climbed off the wagon, and waited for instruction. These two men knew what they were doing, so he’d follow their lead and not be reckless.

  The scuttling got close, followed by some clicking. The mule whinnied, but Cal managed to calm it before its fear got the better of it. Clay watched the grey dirt, waiting for a nasty thing to come crawling out, shuddering at the memory of that spider-thing that had attacked him and Ryder. He tightened his grip on the weapon.

  The scuttling came closer. Sweat trickled down Clay’s back and he licked his lips. But he was damn ready to get to hacking if he had to.

  The scuttling hurried away, leaving them in silence.

  “Gone,” Cal said. “Come on, let’s keep moving.”

  Clay climbed back in, trembling a little. As much as he’d been ready to fight, he was glad it hadn’t needed to.

  As Asmeus sat down next to him, something happened that Clay couldn’t quite comprehend.

  “W-what was that?” He kept his voice low.

  Cal snapped the reigns and they were moving once more.

  “What was what?”

  “Y-you…flickered.” That was exactly the word for it. The guy’s body had flickered! He couldn’t quite believe it, but he knew he’d seen it.

  Asmeus looked at him quizzically. “Are you feeling okay? Look at your forehead.” He touched it with the back of his hand. “Hot. Try and relax a bit. I know you were scared just then.”

  He was talking around it, but Clay had seen it and was even more convinced of it now. But he didn’t push it, not yet. But by the Mother he bloody well would once they got back to Apocalypse.

  Get ready for a grilling!

  “I’m fine,” Clay said.

  “Good. You did well.”

  Definitely talking his way out of it… “Case of having to be ready. I’m not going down without a fight.”

  Asmeus chuckled. “You’re not going anywhere. I won’t let you.”

  “Nice to know.” And it was.

  “Horizon up ahead,” Cal said.

  Clay saw it. “Home.”

  Cal stopped the mule not long after his announcement and Clay jumped out of the wagon, facing the way back into Shelter, the thing he’d always been so afraid of. Funny how he was on the other side, scared of going back to the place he’d used to feel so safe inside.

  “Don’t forget to run if you need to,” Asmeus said.

  “We’ll be right here,” Cal added.

  “What about critters?” Clay said.

  “You worry about doing what you need to do,” Cal said.

  Clay nodded. “Be careful.”

  “You too,” Asmeus said.

  Clay drew a deep breath. This was it.

  He stepped through the shimmering light of the Horizon to an uncertain reception.

  ASH

  “Let me do the talking,” Daemon said as we approached the Trader’s camp.

  “Really? I was beginning to think you had an aversion to words.”

  He snorted. “And don’t do that.”

  “What?”

  “Try and be smart.”

  “Who’s trying?” I winked and he rolled his eyes.

  I loved this, teasing him until that seductive mouth of his lifted just a little. It heated my chest and brought a smile to my lips. Plus, it distracted me from the mark, from the possibility of a hunger attack. So far, the buzz was low, which made me conclude there weren’t any Shadows close enough to activate the mark. Let’s hope it stayed that way.

  The camp wasn’t far, maybe five miles south of Apocalypse, and on Calypso the miles had melted away. She was parked behind an outcrop of rock out of sight and safe—our escape route should things go tits up.

  Up ahead, fires blazed merrily and the smell of burning meat drifted on the air. I could see the tops of large canvas tents and the rumble of voices told me there were several Shadowlanders at the camp.

  “Twelve, maybe thirteen,” Daemon said.

  “You think they’ll shoot first, ask questions later?”

  “They have a treaty with us. They should listen to what I have to say.”

  We climbed a gentle rise and stood on the lip of a dip in the terrain. It looked like a massive crater and within it the Traders had built their home. Tents, and fires, stalls, and cages...

  Cages!

  I grabbed Daemon’s bicep. “There are people in those cages!”

  “Not our problem. Do not rock the boat on this one, Ash. You want your people to live here untouched, fine. But you can’t expect them to stop hunting. This is their livelihood.”

  “Bullshit! Those aren’t fucking animals, they’re people. They have no right to treat them like this. Tell them to find another livelihood.”

  Before Daemon could respond, a growl ripped the air and two monstrous dark shapes came hurtling toward us.

  The wolf beasts that had chased me and Bernie the first time we’d entered the Shadowlands.

  Daemon fell into a crouch, and roared.

  The beasts skidded to a halt, their heads dropping low, ears flat.

  Daemon straightened. “Better.”

  “Nice.”

  He shrugged.

  “You’re such a show off.”

  “Who goes there?” A weasel looking Shadowlander strode toward us.

  “Hello, Bruno.”

  “Daemon, Treagor isn’t here.”

  “I came to speak to you. You’re the one in charge.”

  He rubbed the whiskers in his chin, his eyes flicking from side to side. “Not any longer. Treagor’s the boss now.”

  “How?”

  Bruno shrugged. “You know the way of our people. The strongest leads. He fought, he won. These old bones are almost ready for communion.”

  He glanced at me. “Who’s our friend?”

  “I’m Ash.”

  He sniffed. “You smell funny.”

  “I guess your people aren’t big on social niceties then?”

  He stared blankly at me.

  “When will Treagor be back?” Daemon asked.

  “By nightfall.”

  Which meant nothing here in the endless grey. I shot Daemon a look.

  “May we wait?”

  Bruno grinned, showcasing dirty stained teeth. “You’re just in time for grub actually, we’re about to throw some meat on the fire.”

  Daemon’s jaw clenched. “We’ve eaten, but thank you. We’ll wait here.”

  “Suit yourselves.” He ambled off, back toward camp, toward the fires.

  Daemon turned to me. “Maybe we should check on Calypso.”

  There was something off about him, and if I didn’t know him better I’d say that he was nervous.

  “What’s going on Daemon?”

  A scream ripped through the air and my head whipped round to scan the camp. It didn’t take me long to pinpoint the source of the screams. A young woman was being yanked out one of the cages by one of the Traders. She clung to the bars while the Trader wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled.

  “What is he doing? Daemon, we have to help her!” I took a step toward the camp but Daemon scooped me off my feet, turned, and began to stride away from the crater.

  I pushed at his arms and kicked, trying to get free but his arms were steel bars, his chest a brick wall.

  The woman’s screams lit the air for a few moments longer, culminating in a high-pitched wail of terror.

  Then there was silence.

  Daemon stopped and set me on my feet.

  “What happened? What happened back there?” I asked even though a part of me was already putting the horrific pieces together.

  “They just put some meat on the fire, Ash.”

  Bile rose up my throat and I gulped it back, eyes stinging.

  “This is their way of life. This is the Shadowlands. You want to bring your human friends here then we will do what we can to protect them, but there are dangers everywhere and not all will survive. It’s called evolution, Ash, survival of the fittest.”

  His words resonated with truth and yet I couldn’t fully accept this as the only way. The Traders were murderers.

 

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