The Light Within (Shadow and Light Duology #2)

1. Julien

one

Julien

T he shadows danced between the gnarled trees, twisting and writhing like living smoke. Julien’s heart pounded as he crouched low, his eyes fixed on the elusive creature that darted just out of reach. The shadow cat, a being of pure darkness, moved with unnatural grace, leaving wisps of inky blackness in its wake.

The others were just behind Julien; he could hear the soft crunch of twigs under Cinn’s boots, the whisper of fabric as Elliot adjusted his rucksack, and the hitch in Darcy’s breathing as she struggled to keep up.

Slinking ahead, the cat snaked amongst the foliage, weaving this way and that, its ethereal form slipping in and out of sight.

They were so close.

So close, yet, so far.

Yes, the cat they were hunting was a nightmare.

A literal monster, yes—eyeless, constructed of shadows, and capable of ghastly hissing sounds that would scare any child straight under the covers.

A monster that was supposedly his sister.

As creepy as it was, the true source of their current terror was letting the slippery creature out of their sight for the tenth—scrap that, hundredth —time.

The four of them had been at it for almost sixteen hours now, after Darcy sounded the alarm at the crack of dawn, spotting the fiend napping on the bench in her garden. By the time Julien and Cinn arrived, she was crawling through her flowerbeds, head half in a bush, alternating between soothing, encouraging sounds, and curse words.

An empty cat carrier rested near her. Its metal door creaked in the wind, mocking her efforts. Though, did Darcy really believe it could contain a cat made of shadows?

When Elliot arrived a full thirty minutes later—which was admittedly, by Elliot’s standards, fairly on time—he found all three of them covered in dirt and bramble scratches. Elliot plucked a leaf from Darcy’s hair, her auburn locks the very definition of a bird’s nest. He set his face into a determined line. “We’re not letting it get away from us this time.”

So began their day of cat hunting, as the shadow demon led them on a wild goose chase through the rural outskirts of Talwacht. This involved a long wade through mud up to their knees, a quick dip into a stream, and a desperate trip to an out-of-town supermarket for various demon-cat-catching supplies. Mainly snacks.

They crested the hill that enclosed the valley the Aurelia Arcanum Institute of Esoteric Sciences sat in, and Julien’s feet ached in protest of the many miles they’d walked. Yet the sight of the campus ignited a spark of excitement—if the cat was drawn towards Auri, surely that was a good sign that it was indeed some sort of reincarnation of his dead sister?

Half walking, half sliding down the muddy valley that offered no footpath, they eventually made it to the bottom, to follow the creature through the car park, several courtyards, and then to the glittering glasshouse that was the Solstice Atrium’s exterior.

“Act natural,” hissed Darcy as a large throng of people passed them.

“What, and pray nobody else wonders what the fuck a cat made of literal shadow is doing, taking a casual stroll through Auri?” Julien hissed back.

“Shut up, both of you!” Cinn pointed to where the cat was rounding a corner. Cinn’s face was set in such a line of determination that Julien’s mouth twitched into a smile, and he resisted an urge to press a kiss into the deep crevice across his forehead.

Thankfully, their prey seemed to prefer the paths less travelled, weaving between thickets of trees and the back ends of buildings, away from prying eyes. As one, with footsteps as feather-light as the branches littering the ground would allow, they followed their mark’s path, trailing after shadowy swishes of tail as they slowly increased their pace to close the gap. The cat was lightning fast—every time they caught a flash of darkness, they’d fall deathly silent and creep towards it, cat carrier at the ready. And every time, the creature disappeared, seemingly melting into the actual shadows of shrubbery.

As the sun set, so did their patience.

Especially Darcy’s.

“For the last time, Elliot, it’s not an actual cat. It doesn’t matter which brand of cat food you try to throw at it!”

Yes.

Animal hunting was decidedly a career that none of them should ever consider.

“This would have all been over hours ago if you’d just let me channel,” muttered Elliot, scraping a patch of dried mud from the olive skin of his cheek. “I could have blasted her into that carrier within seconds.”

“No!” Cinn all but shouted. “What if it hurts her, or like, sends her back into the shadow realm or something?”

“Dude, can we please not call it her? We’ve got no proof it’s actually Béatrice!”

Julien’s jaw clenched. All Elliot had done that day was air his complaints and doubts. Though Julien wasn’t yet entirely convinced his dead sister had returned to them as a thing made of shadows, he was at least giving it the benefit of the doubt.

“If Cinn says—” He was silenced by Cinn’s hand clamping around his forearm, accompanied by a quick shake of his head. Julien turned to him, allowing himself to be calmed by the depths of his wide golden-hazel eyes, just visible in the moonlight.

Stepping closer to Julien, Cinn murmured into his ear, “What about if you tried with your… special mote things?”

Julien glared Cinn’s suggestion back down his throat before Darcy and Elliot got wind of it.

Since he’d recounted the tale of defeating the umbraphage using motes in the shadowrealm after a decade of not channelling, his two best friends had been relentless in their encouragement for him to do it again.

What they, and Cinn, didn’t understand was how dangerous his nameless motes were.

Even if Julien started with lumenmotes or any other mote, how long would it be until he gave in to the temptation to tap into the awesome power the other motes offered?

No, he couldn’t go there. It wasn’t worth the risk.

Because the last time he’d channelled them, he’d crumbled a church half to rubble, and killed his mother.

“No!” hissed Darcy, snapping Julien’s thoughts back to their current crisis. “It’s going into the library!”

Indeed, there was a flash of a black, sinuous tail under the portico of the Aurelia Library, before it slunk through the open heavy oak doors. Clearly the rebellious minx wasn’t bothered about their no pets policy.

The four of them entered the building to be greeted by a pleasant librarian who snapped, “We’re closing in five!”

Bypassing the Greek Mythology section, the cat padded merrily through numerous bookshelves to head straight for…

“Surely not,” Elliot muttered in disbelief, as it slipped through the ajar door of their favourite study room. The one they’d spent countless hours in with Béatrice over the years.

A light push on the door, and then all four of them stared into the room, where the creature had already curled up on the ancient Morris chair that Béatrice had favoured.

Julien swallowed, his heart thundering at the sight. There was no denying it now. This was her, his sister that he’d grieved for so deeply every day since her death half a year ago. She had returned to him. As a shadow cat, oui , but he’d take what he could get.

“Béatrice.” Julien took one tentative step towards her, hand outstretched. In an instant, she hissed, leapt up on all fours, and turned her head towards the open window just a cat-jump away.

Rude .

Julien’s heart plummeted as he bit back a low groan—all these hours, and they were about to lose the goddamned cat, potentially for good this time.

Her eyeless head tilted upwards, and Béatrice poised herself on her hind legs, preparing to leap.

“Oh no. Don’t you dare , you little bi—”

“Elliot!”

Darcy reached out to slap Elliot’s arm, but it was too late—Elliot channelled the large amount of windmotes from the blustery weather outside to send a burst of cool air shooting in through the open window, a powerful blast that yanked the creature away from the ledge, knocking her onto the floor.

The cat made an indignant screech, shadowy fur writhing as she arched her back, claws attempting to find purchase on the polished wood as she tried to scrabble away from them. It was no use—Elliot’s powerful air current overcame her valiant efforts, and soon she relented, curling into a dark ball that flew towards them, floating several feet into the air.

Before Julien could react, Cinn lurched forward, wrapping his arms around the cat to bring it to his chest, pressing her firmly against his hoodie. “Shh,” he said, as the cat squirmed and thrashed, swiping for Cinn’s face with her left claw. Cinn brought the hemline of his jumper up and over the furious bundle, blocking her escape. He sank to the ground on his knees. “We’re just trying to help you, alright?”

It was the most ludicrous sight—Cinn on the floor, whispering sweet nothings into his hoodie-cat-trap, to a wiggling, screeching creature that did not seem to appreciate his efforts. If Julien wasn’t so exhausted, he’d surely be shaking with laughter.

Eventually, the miracle occurred—the squirming calmed, then ceased, then—

“Is it… purring ?” Julien couldn’t believe his ears.

With a smug grin, Cinn beamed up at him, his eyes wide with childlike glee. The sight of Béatrice curled up in Cinn’s hoodie warmed Julien’s cold heart, his annoyance at the cat quickly melting. If she preferred Cinn, so be it. Julien preferred Cinn too.

Cinn released the grip on his hoodie slightly to reach in and stroke the thing made of shadows. “There we go. Hello, little friend. Sorry that the mean bloke tried to scare you.”

A strangled sound came from Elliot, followed by, “Well, that’s one way, I guess. At least it likes one of us. Can we go home now?”

Darcy coughed. “Guys? You realise we’re going to have to take it home on the bus, right?”

By the time they’d settled back in Darcy’s living room, the cat was practically eating out of the palm of Cinn’s hand. Well, licking it. She hadn’t wanted any of the cat food they’d offered her, even the gourmet salmon, which looked rather appetising .

Cinn, who hadn’t so much as glanced up since he’d sat down on the armchair with the cat on his lap, ran his fingers between her ears. She nuzzled against his palm.

“You can put her down for a second, you know,” Julien said.

“Oh, sorry, did you want me to scratch your head instead?” Cinn stared at Julien, batting his eyelashes innocently, sending Elliot into a snickering fit he failed to disguise as a cough.

Ignoring them, Julien shuffled across the rug, reaching towards the creature slowly, compelled to finally feel the texture of its— Béatrice’s? — shadowy form. His fingers connected with inky fibres that magnetised towards him, attracted to his hand. A cool sensation danced across his fingertips. How could something simultaneously feel so solid and so… not… at once?

The cat purred.

Darcy cleared her throat, then eyed the cat with pursed lips. “Look Julien, I think we really need to consider how to send it back.”

“ What ? Why? She’s clearly here for a reason!”

They’d finally found her, and now Darcy wanted her gone?

Cinn shifted the creature around on his lap before pulling her closer against his chest. “Not a chance. Béatrice didn’t like the shadowrealm, Darcy. She was lonely there.”

“This… thing doesn’t belong here. Cinn, did you and Noir ever discuss this? Movement between the two realms?” asked Darcy.

The eccentric academic was supposed to be mentoring Cinn, though Cinn was quiet about the content of their sessions.

“Nope. All Noir told me is that there was only ever one other shadowslipper that brought things back. I’ve got no idea about the shadowrealm’s return policy.”

“Darcy, we’re not going to ‘return’ her. She’s here to help,” Julien bit out, unable to dampen his rising temper. Her negativity was the last thing they needed at the end of the long day .

“ How? It’s not like she’s able to talk to us!”

“We haven’t asked her anything yet!”

Elliot laughed hollowly, leaning forward from the sofa to address the cat. “Béatrice, take us to the leader of the Arcane Purifiers and we’ll buy you some catnip.”

Julien didn’t miss the glance Cinn threw his way, likely wondering if he was going to continue to deny Béatrice’s involvement in the ‘controversial at best, terrorist at worst’ activist group. AP had been lobbying the consortium for years now. Their theory about mote usage causing the umbraphage emergence was largely disputed.

Julien opened his mouth—

“It’s late,” Darcy said, abruptly standing in that pointed way she did when she wanted them all out of her cottage.

The cat stretched her front two legs out as if in agreement, before hopping down and padding out of the room, a frowning Cinn hot on her tail. They trailed after the pair of them. Julien almost suggested Darcy make sure all her windows were shut—but a creature made of shadows was unlikely to be contained by mere solid material.

The cat darted straight towards Béatrice’s bedroom. Julien’s breath caught in his throat. Sniffing at the closed door, the cat scratched at the wood with a frantic urgency, then paused, as if considering her next move. Slowly, she pressed itself lower, her fur rippling and shifting, like water disturbed by a strong wind. Then, with a liquid fluidity, her body began to flatten as it melted into a dark, formless puddle.

Julien blinked rapidly, in case his eyes were deceiving him. His sister, a shadow puddle? It shimmered with an unnatural sheen as it stretched across the threshold, then sucked itself under the narrow gap beneath the door, vanishing.

Point proven .

Slack-jawed, Cinn pushed open Béatrice’s door, and for a moment the four of them wordlessly stared at the eyeless cat lying on her bed, flicking its tail.

“Still don’t believe it’s her, Elliot?” Julien asked, a little smugly. Being right had never felt so good. Yet underneath his facade, his heart drummed, his mind racing to process the strange turn of events.

“Okay…” said Darcy, slowly. “I guess it’s welcome to Béatrice’s room, but I’m not getting it a litter tray.”

“Deal.”

“And we probably should tell someone about this—”

“No. We don’t know who we can trust.”

“But—” Darcy cut herself off with a shake of her head, then sighed. There was resignation on her face as she ushered the three of them out of her cottage into the dark winter night.

Elliot hopped on his motorcycle and was halfway down Darcy’s road before Julien and Cinn reached Maz.

Soon, the gentle click of the car doors closing removed them from the rest of the world, the exhalation of Cinn’s gentle sigh sealing their bubble.

Julien inserted his key into the ignition, then paused.

He would only drive a couple of roads until he had to turn left for Cinn’s house, or right for his.

Please, please say you’re coming back to mine.

Cinn turned to him, cocking his head.

“Do you want…” Julien started, until his tongue turned to lead.

Words, Julien, words! What on earth was wrong with him? Where had his ability to throw up his usual calm, collected facade gone? That armour that protected him from situations exactly like this? Out the window with his vocabulary, apparently .

Cinn stared, arching a questioning eyebrow that almost disappeared into his olive-green beanie. “You’re gonna have to be a bit more specific, mate.”

He practised the simple sentence in his mind over and over again as a hot flush prickled the back of his neck. Each time, the Cinn his brain conjured laughed hollowly in response, eyes narrowing.

Facing the windscreen while gripping the wheel so tightly his nails bit into the leather, Julien eventually managed the words: “Do you want to… comebacktomine?”

Cinn’s roaring laugh practically shook Maz.

Oh, why did Cinn have to have this infuriating effect on him? It was making his life even more complicated.

“Course I’m coming back to yours. No need to beg—unless you want to.”

The white flash of Cinn’s satisfied smirk had Julien inwardly groaning as he turned the key, grateful for the sound of his car’s engine filling the silence.

“It’s just that I’m aware that we still need to talk.” Julien kept his eyes firmly planted on the quiet road ahead.

“Yeah,” said Cinn quietly. “I know.”

Damn .

After Cinn had turned up on his doorstep in the middle of last night demanding Julien’s… attention… he’d half convinced himself he’d got away scot free without any awkward conversations.

Julien turned on Maz’s radio, tuning it into Cinn’s favourite channel, the one that played older British hits, then drove them home.

They didn’t say anything in the car.

They didn’t say anything in the underground garage.

They didn’t say anything in the elevator.

By the time they’d sat down on Julien’s sofa, nausea had made its home in his gut, and tendrils of panic seized his heart, squeezing painfully. This was it. The moment Cinn shattered his heart by telling him there was no possible future for them.

“Look, Julien—”

“I want to—”

Julien snapped his mouth shut, waiting for Cinn to continue. But Cinn only sighed. Julien pulled a cushion onto his lap, squashing his tension into it. He softly asked, “Did you get that letter I sent? Did you read it?”

The light in the room was dim, the only source coming from the floor lamp behind Cinn. Yet his face visibly softened, gaze drifting to his rucksack on the floor. “Yeah, I got it. I was planning to talk to you, you know, that day at the lantern parade. I was just trying to work up the courage. I know I was being a stubborn git, ignoring you for so long.”

“Well”—Julien picked at a thread on the cushion—“it’s not like you didn’t have a good reason. I did almost get your ex-boyfriend killed.” Precious, oh-so- precious Tyler, who Cinn would give the world for.

So when Tyler had gone out with the ten thousand pounds Julien had thrown at him before they left—along with some words he’d rather not remember—resulting in a hospital stay for broken ribs, it had been a little awkward.

Regrets.

Julien had them.

Cinn freed a brown curl from his beanie to twist it around his finger. Seeing the hat Julien gave him back on Cinn’s head brought Julien immeasurable joy. Cinn said, “The thing is, he’s usually pretty good at messing things up all by himself, even on a good day.” Then, leaning forward, he grabbed Julien’s hand, forcing him to meet his eyes. “I still don’t get why you let Tyler shake you up so much. I tried to make it clear on the tube that you had nothing to worry about. Then I was all over you at Bradley’s place. ”

The worried, reflective tone in Cinn’s voice—like he’d been the one at fault—only compounded Julien’s guilt until it was a solid brick in his stomach.

“ Non .” Julien squeezed Cinn’s hand, then stroked his thumb against his pulse. “This is entirely on me. And my self-destructive brain.” He shuddered out a breath. “You’ve been all I can think about. Did you know that? Starting weeks before we went to London. Pretty much from the moment I met you. I guess I didn’t know what to do with all these… feelings. ”

Julien made a face, causing Cinn to laugh, and some of the tension to dissipate. But it was true. The way he felt about Cinn was so intense, so big, so new, Julien felt unequipped to handle it. His feelings felt like fire in his chest, burning so hot he didn’t know whether to run from it or embrace it.

“I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you before I even had the chance to have you. It fucked with my mind. God, Cinn, I still feel like I’m losing my mind right now. I want you so badly but I’m so fucking terrified of screwing it up.” The honesty poured out of him before he could stop it, and Julien squeezed his eyes shut, unable to face the look of surprise and mild concern written on Cinn’s face at his outburst.

“I know you deserve someone with a normal range of human emotions, who’ll treat you like a prince. Someone who won’t keep fucking up. Someone who won’t ever hurt you.”

The warm, comforting weight of Cinn’s body settled on his lap, his legs wrapping around Julien’s back. Then he pressed a finger to Julien’s lips, soft but commanding. Cinn dropped his tone to say, “There’s only room for one prince here, and that’s you.”

Julien pulled his lips into a scowl, though his heart fluttered and his stomach uncoiled somewhat.

“Besides, if I wanted normal , I wouldn’t be here. I know exactly what I’m signing up for. ”

The tiniest spark of hopeful joy ignited itself within Julien, and he allowed it to weave warmth through him.

“I can be patient while we sort it all out,” Cinn added.

Julien brought his hands up to cup Cinn’s cheeks, swiping his thumbs over them before kissing his forehead. “You don’t need to be patient. I don’t need to figure out how I feel about you.”

Cinn pressed his lips against Julien’s, running the back of one hand along the column of his throat. With the slowest of gentle pressures, Cinn caressed his bottom lip with his tongue, pressing it against him until Julien’s mouth parted. As their tongues tangled, brushing up against each other with soft, languid strokes, a calm settled in the ocean of Julien’s mind. The anxious waves, so turbulent in the weeks since Cinn had stormed out of this very apartment, finally stilling.

An almost drugged feeling coursed through Julien, and he gently pulled them both down to lie side by side, tugging Cinn’s precious beanie very gently off to breathe in the scent of his hair. Damp from the drizzle earlier, the smoke from Darcy’s fireplace didn’t quite mask the citrus shampoo Cinn favoured. Julien smiled into his short brown curls, running a hand through them.

Cinn settled on his chest, nuzzling in so close, Julien could match every rise and fall of his rib cage. A thick lump formed in Julien’s throat. He swallowed it, sliding his arms as far as they could stretch around Cinn.

They remained like that for an eternity and a half, with Julien staring at the ceiling, content to never move again.

In this dreamlike space, right now, he could do anything. Anything, like…

His gaze turned to the lamp emitting a soft orange light.

The lumenmotes called to him. Whispered his name.

He itched to feel them respond to him, to be bent to his will .

Staring at the lamp, raising his hand towards it, his heart rate kicked into overdrive.

Cinn raised his head from his chest, his gaze boring into him. “Are you going to…?” he said, his breathy excitement contagious.

Julien edged his slightly shaking hand closer to the light. The physical proximity of his fingers to the motes was entirely unnecessary, but it felt right.

“I’m here.” Cinn reached for Julien’s other hand to squeeze their intertwined fingers. “You’ve got this.”

Cinn’s unwavering belief in him was the last layer of motivation he needed. Julien exhaled a last, unsteady breath through his nose.

He reached for the lumenmotes.

The motes became visible only when he focussed on connecting with them. Clusters of tiny specks of light, fairy dust almost, they drifted this way and that, awaiting direction.

A tingling sensation began in his fingertips and spread throughout his every limb—a gentle warmth akin to sunlight finally breaking through dark clouds.

He drifted above himself. He became the light, the air, and the space in between.

He’d thought this part of himself was forever lost.

Now, a revival. A resurgence. A reawakening inside him.

His fog had lifted, leaving laser-like clarity in its place as each of his five senses sharpened. Energy softly buzzed in every place that connected him to Cinn’s body.

He drew upon the lumenmotes awaiting his call, drawing them away from the lamp, and manipulated them, binding hundreds of them together to form a tiny bright floating ball of light.

Encouraged by Cinn’s gasp, Julien pulled out even more—relishing the euphoric feeling of finally, finally allowing himself to do the thing he’d craved every day for years—to create another sphere, then another. Cinn reached up to flick off the lamp, which had dimmed somewhat. Soon they were immersed in a shower of drifting luminescence, flickering like stars. Their own private universe.

“So beautiful,” Cinn murmured, reaching out to trace the path of one with his fingers.

“Almost as beautiful as you.”

Cinn made a sound somewhere between a scoff and a retch, but the smile Julien felt against his chest filled him with starlight.

Julien drifted off to sleep with Cinn still entwined in his arms. One final thought fluttered through him: he’d do anything in his power to make this tentative happiness his new reality.