Page 86 of Vervain

Moving away from the secret entrance to the Undercity, my breath hitches at the sights and sounds I’ve missed. Silver from the round moon streaks through the breaks in the tall trees that surround us. Patches of light dance with glittering dust lifted by the cool breeze that shudders through the woods.

Without a care, I kick my boots off, slip off my socks and plant my feet on the ground. Serun looks on but says nothing when I burrow my toes into the soil.

It has been so long.

“I can’t see shit in this mask,” Olivia grumbles. She closes the hatch, and Serun uses his shadows to slide some vegetation over it, smoothing it down until it looks like the rest.

“It is better than topside seeing your face,” Serun says. “Unless you want to slaughter every nightwalker we come across, keep it on. If a slayer captures a nightwalker, they will be able to describe and likely draw your face clearly. Even if you hide your hair and change eye colour, once a slayer learns your face, they know it for life.”

Olivia tightens the straps on her mask. “Creepy.”

Indeed.

“Come,” Serun demands, but he doesn’t move until I slip on my sandals and make my way to him. Once I am beside him, his shadows move closer to me, inching around my waist. He has created a shadow double of himself, and that double is carrying the backpack. “It’s not far.”

“What’s not far?” I ask.

He doesn’t respond. Instead, his shadows seem to pulse with humour. I’m getting better at reading his shadows when I can’t see his face.

We walk along a path that blends in well enough not to be seen, but living in Cherry Bloom, where most paths are flattened grass and pebbled roads, I find it easy to notice among the vervain that grows along the path.

More light breaks through the trees as they thin out. The sky is clear, without a cloud in sight. All I see are thousands of stars clustered around the moon.

The scent of pine lingers in my nose, with the undertones of the mulch beneath my feet. It must have rained. The scent is dense, invading my nostrils and swelling in my lungs.

My ear twitches at the sounds returning to me. Creatures that crave the night, rustling through the fallen leaves, snapping dry branches. Fogs croak in high-pitched rhythms, moving from one location to the other, and the hoot of a nearby owl is almost drowned out by the cicadas singing because of the full moon.

The trees open into a clearing with enough space for the shed on Serun’s right. He doesn’t speak but guides us to the moss-covered building. Vines curl up the walls, sprouting wisteria blooms. Nearby, in a cluster that has spread like a virus, grows more vervain.

Serun grabs the handle and slides the door open. Vines snap away, and petals rain down as the metal sheeting trembles, cutting through the murmurs of life and silencing them with the sudden, unnatural sound.

Inside, grey, dusty sheets cover some large objects. My ears prick, then fall back as I move forward with my hand on my arm.

Serun moves around one and drags the sheet aside, revealing…a motorcycle. I think. I’ve seen pictures before, and this looks just like the cartoon drawings.

“Whoa!” Olivia gasps. “I haven’t seen a working motorcycle in a while. Most don’t run anymore, and with the amount of noise they make, no human risks riding one.”

“But couldn’t this outride a nightwalker?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “Most roads now have spikes nightwalkers use to ambush humans on the highway. It was the reason I never left Coven, and also where I died and became…this.”

Serun pulls the sheet off another bike, and his shadow takes the vehicle out into the moonlight. It’s still so strange to see the shadows do things.

Serun goes to the back of the shed and takes a pair of goggles off the hook. Once he’s put them on, the sight is hidden behind a veil of shadows. I smile but try to hide it.

“Am I amusing, kamai?” he says as he approaches, raising his hand in offering. “You’re riding with me.”

“What does ‘kamai’ mean?” Olivia asks. “I’ve heard no one use the word before, not until you started saying it, Lord Serun. Is it Daryun?”

“Olivia, you’re riding with Penumbra.”

“Penumbra?” I say, and when I face the shadows, I find they are enthusiastically waving at me.

“Half of Penumbra,” Serun corrects.

Olivia looks at the other bike, a Serun-shaped Penumbra now sitting on it comfortably and petting the spot behind them. “If there is a threat, the shadow⁠—”

“You’re dead,” Serun states in an irritable drawl while I position my own goggles over my mask. “If something happens, you won’t die as easily as Saya can. So yes, you get the fucking shadow.”