Page 15 of Soul of Shadow #1

Run.

The word flashed through Charlie’s head like a billboard flying past on the highway.

Get up and run.

It’s going to kill you.

But she couldn’t. When she looked down at her legs, they were bound by black cords that appeared to be made of the same substance as the creature itself. The cords shivered and flaked, as if only half corporeal. Yet they felt entirely real, so tight they dug into her skin.

Slowly, hesitantly, she lifted her head and looked up at the thing flickering above her.

The shadow creature stood the same way a human would.

It had the complete shape of Elias’s body, from his bare feet up to his broad shoulders, but it was made entirely of darkness, with no distinction between skin and clothing.

As her eyes climbed its form, she realized how large it was, much taller than Elias, long and lithe, radiating a primal scent, dark and ancient, as if it somehow wore the very deepest part of earth.

When she reached its face, her breath caught in her throat.

It had his face. His high cheekbones, his strong jawline, the distinct shape of his hair. But more than anything else, it had his eyes. Bright green. Cold. Mocking.

When she first saw the creature, she assumed it had been living inside Elias’s body, inhabiting it the way a demon might. But seeing those eyes…

“Elias?” she whispered.

His shadowed lips spread into a dark grin. “You learn quickly.”

“Wh—What are you?”

“I,” he said, holding out two shadowed arms, “am what they call a mare.”

Charlie tried to slide backward on the carpet, but the cords around her legs held her in place. “You’re a what?”

“A mare.” He traced a finger in circles through the air, which caused the cords to lengthen and tighten, slithering up her legs and around her body. “A creature of the night. In Norse mythology, we’re the creepy old ladies that sit on your chest in your sleep and give you nightmares.”

Charlie’s heart pounded in her chest. She needed to get out of here.

What Shadow Elias was saying made no sense—what did she know about Norse mythology?

That Thor held a big hammer and was played by Chris Hemsworth?

But it didn’t erase the obvious: this creature was dangerous, and she was trapped in its clutches.

Her only option was to distract him until she could find a way out.

“You don’t look like an old lady,” she said.

“Of course not,” he scoffed. “Humans know only a fraction of the truth about my kind.” He wandered over to the side table and picked up a fake apple from inside a dusty bowl.

He tossed it into the air and caught it again.

“They only know a fraction of the truth about everything —the gods, the ghosts, the divine spirits of nature. Humans were cut off from magic long before they developed written language. Only fragments of the truth remain, passed down from storyteller to storyteller, warped over time.”

As Elias spoke, Charlie scanned the hallway, looking for a tool she could use to cut through the cord around her legs. Not that she knew if it could even be cut at all. How does one sever something made of darkness?

Not just something made of darkness—a boy made of darkness.

As absurd as that thought sounded, as impossible as it might be, it was the best explanation that she had for what she was witnessing.

It was the only explanation, other than that she was dreaming, or that she’d somehow taken LSD without knowing it—though she was fairly certain that if she had, the house would look more kaleidoscope-y and less murder-horror-exorcism-y.

So. Boy made of shadow it was.

“Tell me, Charlie Hudson,” said Shadow Elias, setting the fake apple back into the bowl and leaning on the side table. “What do you know of Norse mythology?”

“Not much.” Charlie took stock of the items in the hallway as inconspicuously as possible: candlesticks, dead flowers, fake fruit, a dusty wooden box set on a dusty wooden table. Maybe she could use the candlestick as a sort of club? “It’s not exactly a priority in American curriculum.”

“Alas.” He hummed, but it came out low and whispery, like a gust of wind preceding a storm. “They really should, given that it’s all real. ”

“Right,” she said. “Sure it is.”

“You don’t believe me,” he said. “That’s understandable. Most people don’t at first.”

She glanced at the bottom of the table. She could break off one of its legs. Yes. Then she could use that as a spear…

“Don’t bother running,” Elias said mildly. “I can step right through the walls of this house.”

“You can—” Charlie blinked in surprise. “What?”

Elias turned his glowing eyes on her. “Don’t believe me? Watch.”

He took two quick steps, crossing the hallway. Then he stepped into the wall.

Charlie gasped. It happened that quickly: he—or whatever this version of him was—was standing in the hallway one moment, and the next, passing through the wall as if it were nothing. As if it were air.

“Where did you—” she started, but then he was back. Stepping out of the wall as easily as if it were a doorway. “How did you—”

“I told you, Charlie.” His eyes held hers. “I’m a mare. The only dark spirit that can be created from a human.”

“Wait.” She raised a hand. “So, you are human?”

He looked away, his gaze momentarily going distant. “I used to be.” When his eyes returned to her, his shadowed lips had pulled up into another cruel smile. “Now I only look human. And only when I want to.”

“Why are you telling me this?” She needed to get out of this house. Now. What was Elias’s game here? “Did you tell Robbie Carpenter, too? Before you killed him?”

“I had nothing to do with Robbie Carpenter’s disappea rance. Nor that of the twins. In fact.” Elias raised one hand and snapped. When he did, the cords around her legs vanished. “I’m trying to find them.”

Charlie didn’t waste a moment. She jumped to her feet and ran for the door.

Before she had taken even two steps, another shadowed cord appeared, this time wrapping around her entire torso and pulling tight until her arms were locked to her sides.

Crap.

She made it to the front door and slammed into it hard, trying to break it open by sheer force. The hinges rattled, but the door stayed in place.

A hand wrapped around her arm and yanked her away from the door. At the touch, visions flashed in front of Charlie’s eyes: a dark tunnel, a lifeless body, spiders crawling out of empty eye sockets…

The images dissipated. Charlie grunted as Shadow Elias spun her around and pinned her to the door.

He was strong. Disturbingly so. She struggled against him, but it was no use.

He kept her pinned as easily as if she were a stray sheet of paper.

In some distant part of her brain, she noticed that his touch no longer burned, the way it had in the cafeteria.

That it felt cool, soft, like a light breeze.

Elias tutted. “Charlie, Charlie, Charlie.” He leaned in, drawing so close that the darkness flaking and flickering like black flames where his skin should be brushed up against Charlie’s face.

She whimpered; each brush of black flame sent shivers down her spine, a sense of doom pooling at its base.

“You think you can escape? You think that opening that door would bring you any safety? I’m a night mare , darling.

I know you don’t yet fully grasp what that means, but surely you must have some idea. ”

The longer he held on to Charlie’s arm, the more doom built within her, a vat filling with churning water, a sense that sharks swam within.

“We create fear,” he said. “Feed on it. Let it fuel our strength. We sense fear the way humans smell food cooking in the kitchen. Even now, that pounding in your chest, the rush of blood, the shallow breaths in your lungs—I feel it all. And let me tell you—” He leaned forward, inhaling deeply. “It’s delicious .”

“You’re sick,” she whispered.

“On the contrary.” Elias straightened, loosening his grip on her arm but not fully letting go.

“I’m perfectly healthy right now. Disappearing children?

Runes carved into trees? This town is in a complete tizzy, which is perfect for a mare like me.

The more afraid you are, the better. The stronger I become. ”

As his grip loosened, the fear building within her faded; it didn’t disappear entirely, but it became quieter, lower, like a volume knob on terror had been turned down.

“What were those visions?” she asked. “The tunnel. The spiders… How did you do that?”

He lifted a hand, the tips of his fingers flickering like black candles, and placed it gently to her cheek. She was overcome yet again by visions: This time, she saw Sophie. Her body on a hospital bed, her mother weeping, a black-hooded figure descending upon the bed…

Shadow Elias pulled his hand away, and the images vanished.

“One of my mare tricks. Giving visions to our victims to ratchet up their fear, to make ourselves even stronger.” He wi ggled his fingers.

“I have complete control over the visions. What they see, when they see it, and for how long. The more I do it to one person, the more I learn about what truly terrifies them. I can repeat it again—” He grabbed her forearm, and she saw Mason crashing their car into a tree.

“And again—” She saw her mother floating face down in Lake Michigan. “And again.”

She gasped, tearing her arm away. The visions stopped as abruptly as a TV switching off. “What is this?” she asked, doing her best to summon bravery into her voice, even though she felt none. “Is this your big villain speech? The one you give before you slit my throat?”