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“We’re going to have to travel fast,” Saint said, and offered his hand. “You ever traveled through shadow?”
Octavius clasped his hand with Saint’s, marveling at its firm strength. “No.”
“All right, don’t let go of my hand. Do you know where Zaine is headed?”
“Eric’s precinct.”
“Take a breath. Once in the shadows, things will look different. Try and focus, and pull me the way you want to go. We won’t be able to talk, there’s no sound. Although your persuasion might work. Just… don’t get lost in there.”
Why did he look worried? Before Octavius could stop to think about what they were about to do, shadows crawled across the hallway walls and gathered in front of Saint, pooling like ink, and then Saint stepped through, leading Octavius with him.
The lack of sound hit first, as though he’d been plunged underwater.
The same corridor stretched in front of them, but all the colors warped and drained away, like a painting left in the rain. Saint’s eyes, shimmering in the dark, questioned if he was all right. All his edges were blurred, his face smudged away, as though if he stood still for too long, he’d disappear. A strange kind of pressure pushed against Octavius’s chest, as though the shadows knew he was here and they wanted himout. He nodded but hoped this wouldn’t take long. Instincts warned this wasn’t his world, and he shouldn’t stay.
He moved forward, leading Saint by the hand, but as he envisaged where they needed to go, the corridor swirled and blurred, washing away. The lack of anything solid and real unbalanced him, but Saint squeezed his hand, keeping him anchored. The world around them reformed into a street corner he knew well, just a few blocks from Eric’s police department. They’d traveled blocks in seconds.
His heart seized. He stumbled, gasped. The shadows shrank around him, trying to suffocate, or eject him.
Saint yanked him out of the shadows, where the ground was hard, the air smelled like wet asphalt, and his heart galloped, trying to escape his chest.
“Fuck.” He reached out to brace himself against a wall, and Saint’s arm looped around him, clutching him close. His senses buzzed, his skin electric. “Let’s not do that again.”
Saint threw him his wicked smile. “I didn’t say it was going to be enjoyable.”
“Some warning would have been nice.”
“You’d still have done it, and there wasn’t time. We’re here.”
A few cop cars appeared to have been abandoned outside the precinct steps, along with several civilian cars.
“Hey, you walk through shadows now?” Zaine said, striding over. “While I get the panel van?” He thumbed over his shoulder at the black van parked half on the sidewalk a little ways down the street. “I so need a raise.”
“I don’t recommend it,” Octavius said. His insides still felt like liquid. “Where’s Sharpe?”
Zaine nodded toward the precinct. “He’s coming out, said we should stay back. The cops are looking for people to blame, and as Raiden made us semi-famous, we’re on the hit list. We should get in the van.”
As they climbed into the van, Zaine in the front, Octavius explained about the Brotherhood warehouse.
“If Raiden wanted to hide the fact Atlas owned the warehouse,” Zaine said, “he could have given it to Vesna, or registered ownership under a different company name altogether. Why leave our name all over it?”
“He deleted the files off Atlas, so he didn’t need to hide it.”
Zaine’s mouth turned downward. “Someonedeleted the files.” His gaze lifted, and his weariness vanished. “Give me a second…” He left the van and hurried over to the man striding down the steps.
“That Eric Sharpe, the cop?” Saint asked.
Octavius nodded. Sharpe’s detective’s badge hung on a strap around his neck. he wore casual clothes, all creased from the long night. Short, messy brown hair brought out the warmth in his eyes.
Zaine and Eric exchanged a few words, both of them appearing concerned, and then Eric took Zaine in his arms and whatever was said between them was lost in their intimacy.
“Huh,” Saint remarked. “He’s human, and Mikalis allowed this?”
“Hewashuman, and Mikalis only allowed it because Zaine knew which buttons to press.”
“Was human?” Saint tore his gaze from the couple and turned toward Octavius. “Then he’s not human?”
“You know how Jayden was able to heal that gunshot wound to the chest? Eric Sharpe has the same ability, as does Felix Quaid. I’ve been meaning to tell you, but witheverything, there hasn’t been time.”
