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“What the hell?” Xander’s voice came from somewhere in the consuming darkness, sounding genuinely confused.
I gasped, sucking air into my lungs. I was still breathing. Still alive. The whole place had gone pitch-black and for a moment, I thought I’d somehow died. But dying in a fire wouldn’t be dark.
Xander let out a slew of curses. “The damn generator must’ve stopped,” he said, more to himself than me.
I struggled against my restraints again, ignoring the burning pain as the plastic cut into me. Maybe if I struggled hard enough, the whole chair would give out. I couldn’t stop trying.
The smell of the gasoline made me dizzy, but I was highly aware that one flick of Xander’s thumb would light this whole place up.
There were footsteps and a thump, like someone hitting a wall.
Xander cursed again. “What the—”
But he didn’t get to finish that thought. He made an odd sound, something between a groan and gasp. It was followed by a guttural gargle that had my hair standing on end. No human should ever make a sound like that.
It was followed by a beat of silence, and then a heavy thud caused the floor under my feet to vibrate.
I waited, blinking rapidly as I tried to get my eyes to adjust to the dense darkness. “Xander?” My voice quivered.
There was no answer.
Something was wrong. Even more wrong than they had been a moment ago.
Footsteps started again. They were slow, and so faint I wouldn’t have heard them if it hadn’t been entirely quiet.
The footsteps steadily grew closer. My heart rate ratcheted up even higher. “Xander?” I said again. If he was going to kill me, I wasn’t sure why he wasn’t lighting the fire and getting out of Dodge.
None of this made sense.
My vision was slowly adjusting, and I started to make out shadows of the surrounding furniture. My gaze bore into the other side of the room where Xander had been standing, but I didn’t see anything.
A shadow in my peripheral made me jump. The footsteps hurried, coming from behind me now. I started to turn my head, when the presence of a large body pressed up against me. Something cold and sharp touched my neck.
“Ah, I don’t think so. Keep your head forward,” a voice whispered into my ear, turning my blood to ice. It wasn’t Xander.
It wasn’t a familiar voice. It was a low, deep rasp. The sound was almost inhuman, like it couldn’t possibly be someone’s real voice. There was no mistaking the hushed male baritone, though.
My head snapped forward, my body instinctively leaning away from the edged weapon at my throat.
“Who’s there?” I said, finding the strength to speak again.
The person behind me shifted. A hot breath caressed the shell of my ear, and I shivered in disgust. “It’s good to see you again, Lark.”
Horror pooled in my stomach, flooding my veins. I tried to turn my head again, but that cold edge dug into my neck. A kiss of pain stung my skin. I winced. It was a knife.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” the voice warned. “Please, stop trying to take a peek at me.”
“It’s too dark to see anything.” I sounded steadier than I felt.
There was a pause. “Hmmm,” the voice purred, getting so close to my ear his lips almost grazed me. “Then you should probably stop turning that head.”
I locked my eyes straight ahead, my nails digging into the hard wood of the chair arms. “Who are you?”
He let out a soft chuckle. “Me? I’m nothing but a shadow.”
My eyes widened, the muscles in my neck tensed as I resisted the urge to try to look again. “A shadow?” I whispered, terror lacing my tone.
“I believe that’s what they call me.”
