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Chapter Four

Joy

The door shut and the lock clicked, the sound jarring against my usually optimistic nature. I sat on the bed, clutching Anton’s book to my chest like a shield. Air seemed to scrape against my throat as I tried to wrap my mind around what Marsha had done to me.

Her spell had forced me to control the shadows around me—me, who always sought out the light, who decorated my room with yellow curtains and kept fresh flowers on every windowsill. The darkness now responding to my thoughts felt like wearing someone else’s skin.

Why would she and Maximo want this? What could they possibly gain by forcing this shadow-bending ability onto someone who practically radiated sunshine, at least according to my friends? The confusion stung almost as much as the betrayal.

I took a deep breath, trying to find that spark of hope I’d never lost before, even in my darkest moments. Maybe there were answers in this book. Maybe this wasn’t as terrible as it seemed. The shadows might be forced upon me, but how I faced this challenge, that was my choice.

With fingers that still trembled but grew steadier with each page turn, I flipped through Anton’s book, my eyes scanning the pages with growing fascination despite my fear.

Then I spotted it—a simple exercise for beginners, titled “Shadow Extension.” According to the text, I just needed to focus on a shadow and imagine it as an extension of myself.

“That can’t be all there is to it,” I murmured, glancing at the thin slice of shadow cast by the book on my lap.

I took a deep breath and tried to center myself the way I always did before dance recitals or difficult exams—finding that bright core of optimism that friends always teased me about. Except this time, instead of pushing light outward, I focused on pulling the darkness toward me.

The shadow quivered. My heart leaped into my throat.

“Okay, stay calm,” I whispered to myself with a nervous laugh. “Just try something small.”

I focused on the shadow beneath the door, picturing it stretching, reaching, extending into the hallway like spilled ink. To my amazement, the darkness obeyed, slipping under the door like a curious snake.

From the other side came a startled curse. “What the—” The guard’s boots scuffed against the stone floor and the lock jiggled, each metallic click sending spikes of panic through my chest.

I gasped, my concentration shattering like glass. The shadow snapped back like a rubber band, but the damage was done. My heart thundered against my ribs as adrenaline flooded my system.

The door swung open and suddenly—miraculously—the shadows leaped to me, wrapping around my trembling form like a protective embrace. A strange, cool sensation washed over my skin, both terrifying and exhilarating.

“Where are you?” Frank yelled, his voice echoing off the walls. His eyes swept right through me, confusion and anger twisting his features. He was looking at me but couldn’t see me.

A wild, desperate hope burst through my terror.

I’m invisible! The realization was dizzying, a hysterical laugh bubbling up in my throat that I barely managed to swallow down.

I clutched Anton’s book tighter to my chest, feeling its leather cover press against my racing heart as I carefully edged toward the door.

I held my breath as I slipped past Frank, close enough to smell his aftershave, fear and elation warring within me.

Each step toward freedom sent sparks of nervous energy down my spine.

My mind raced with thoughts of the other captives waiting in the darkness, all counting on me even if they didn’t know it yet.

For the first time since Marsha had cast her spell, gratitude mingled with my fear. Maybe this power—this curse—could become something more. Something useful. Something good.

I fled down the corridor, shadows still clinging to me like loyal friends, my spirit soaring with a fierce determination I barely recognized in myself. I would free them all. Whatever it took.

I ran to Zoe’s door first, my bare feet silent against the cold stone floor, each slap sending jolts up my legs. The shadows streamed behind me like a cape in the wind, responding to my urgency. My fingers, trembling with adrenaline and hope, reached for the lock.

“Come on, come on,” I whispered as I jiggled the handle. The metal was ice cold against my sweaty palm, unyielding and cruel. My heart hammered against my ribs so hard I thought Zoe might hear it through the thick door.

The lock wouldn’t budge. Panic clawed up my throat, threatening to choke me.

I closed my eyes, drawing in a shaky breath that tasted of dust and fear. “Please,” I begged, not sure if I was talking to the shadows or some higher power. The darkness responded, circling the lock like curious fingers, but nothing happened. My stomach dropped with disappointment.

I focused harder, my determination sharpening with concentration, visualizing the shadows condensing into a key, just like I’d learned in Anton’s book.

Sweat beaded on my forehead and trickled down my temple.

The shadows swirled around the knob like an ominous cloud, smoky tendrils probing the keyhole but finding no purchase.

“Zoe,” I hissed through the door, pressing my forehead against the rough wood, feeling splinters dig into my skin. “Can you hear me? I’m trying to?—”

“ Lumbraxis !” The word cracked through the air like a whip, each syllable sharp with magical intent.

The shadows around me shrieked—not with sound but with feeling—as they were forcibly ripped away. It felt like losing a protective blanket in a freezing storm, leaving me exposed and vulnerable. The darkness fled, dissolving into nothing as harsh light flooded the hallway.

I turned to see Marsha standing there, her palm glowing with unnatural brightness, her face a mask of cold triumph. Anton’s book suddenly felt heavy in my arms, its secrets useless against her direct attack.

“Did you really think,” she said, twirling a lock of my hair around her finger, “that I wouldn’t sense you playing with powers you don’t understand?”

I stood trembling in the merciless light, my newfound power stripped away, with the taste of failure bitter on my tongue.

Frank grabbed my arm, his fingers digging into my flesh like a bear trap. My nerves screamed in protest as he twisted slightly, making me gasp.

“Don’t ever try that again, Joy,” he growled, his breath hot against my ear, smelling of coffee and something sour.

I tried to jerk away, but his grip only tightened, sending sharp needles of pain through my arm. The shadows that had been my allies moments ago now seemed to mock me from the corners of the hallway, just out of reach.

“Bring her to Maximo. He needs to know that she escaped from her room.” Her eyes, cold and calculating, never left mine as she ripped Anton’s book out of my trembling arms. The leather spine dragged across my forearm, burning against my skin.

“Nooo,” I wailed, the sound torn from somewhere deep in my chest. The book—my only hope, my only key to understanding these powers—clutched in her manicured hands. Despair clawed at my soul, a physical ache that made me want to double over.

The crack of her hand against my face came without warning. Pain exploded across my lip, bright and hot. I tasted copper as blood welled up where my teeth had cut into the soft inner flesh. My eyes watered involuntarily, vision blurring as my head snapped to the side.

“Shut up, bitch.” Marsha flexed her fingers as if my face had somehow offended them. A thin smile spread across as she watched me struggle to stay upright, to swallow back the whimper that threatened to escape.

I forced myself to straighten, wincing as blood trickled fresh from my torn lip, my chest tight with fury. Behind the pain, something else stirred—a spark of anger, small but fierce, refusing to be extinguished. From prey to predator, the transformation had begun.

Marsha sauntered in front of me, her heels clicking rhythmically against the marble floor like a mocking countdown.

Each step oozed confidence while Frank dragged me behind, his grip tightening with what felt like sadistic pleasure that sent dull waves of pain up to my shoulder.

The rough fabric of his uniform sleeve brushed against my skin with each forceful tug, a constant reminder of my helplessness.

She pushed open the heavy oak door to Maximo’s study without knocking, the hinges groaning in protest. The air inside hit me immediately—warm and thick with the scent of old books and expensive cologne.

Maximo looked up from his laptop, the blue light casting eerie shadows across his angular face.

His expression shifted from annoyance at the interruption to something more calculating as his eyes locked onto mine.

“We have a problem.” She tilted her head at me. A strand of her perfectly styled hair fell across her face, but she didn’t bother to fix it, too focused on delivering her news. She slammed Anton’s book on to his desk. “She escaped from her room using the shadows.”

My chest tightened, pressing against my heart like an invisible vise.

The taste of blood still lingered on my tongue from my split lip, metallic and sharp.

I could feel their eyes on me—Marsha’s cold with fury, Maximo’s burning with something I couldn’t quite name.

Interest? Satisfaction? My pulse hammered in my ears as I waited for him to speak, each second stretching into eternity.

Maximo leaned back in his chair, the expensive leather creaking beneath his weight.

His fingers steepled under his chin as his eyes studied me with calculating precision, like a jeweler assessing a rare diamond.

“The auction’s tonight. We can’t leave her alone.

She might escape again.” A half-smile played at the corner of his mouth. “She’s too valuable to lose.”

Marsha crossed her arms with a soft rustle of expensive fabric, her manicured nails drumming against her sleeve in irritation. The ruby ring on her finger caught the light, flashing blood red. “Then what do you propose we do?”

He shrugged, a casual gesture that belied the gravity of what they were discussing. “What else? Bring her.” His gaze never left my face, watching for my reaction.

I remained perfectly still, though my muscles tensed with the urge to run.

Each second that passed was another second closer to the auction, another second I needed for planning but didn’t have.

My injured lip stiffened where the blood had hardened, a painful reminder of what happened to those who defied these people.

“And have her do what?” Marsha asked, her eyebrow arching skeptically.

Maximo chuckled, his laugh making me break out with goosebumps. “She’ll act as an escort for the girls and bring them out on Simon’s stage.”

The name hung in the air between us as possibilities—most of them terrible—flashed through my mind.

I had only been to Simon’s once. He auctioned illegal merchandise—including human flesh—at his Ravenwood Estate, a sprawling property hidden deep in the New Orleans bayou where the cypress trees dripped with Spanish moss and provided perfect cover for his criminal enterprise.

The humid air and muddy waters concealed countless secrets, making it ideal for his operations.

My chest tightened at the memory of Maximo’s casual boast weeks ago, champagne glass in hand, about how Angelo Santi had paid top dollar for my best friend, Serenity.

He was ruthless and I couldn’t imagine what he had done to her.

My blood pumped with rage and grief, turning my vision crimson at the edges.

Now that same helpless fury burned in my throat like bile.

If I was going to be at the auction anyway, escorting the girls, maybe there was still a chance.

The shadows had responded to me, just maybe I could use them to help the others.

I kept my expression neutral, eyes slightly downcast to hide the dangerous determination building behind them, even as a tiny spark of hope flickered to life inside me.

This was my chance to save the girls.