The Light Within (Shadow and Light Duology #2)

10. Julien

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Julien

I t took longer than Julien would care to admit to react to Cinn’s peculiar behaviour. When Cinn first stumbled back, he’d thought he was simply knocked back by the wind, or exhausted perhaps.

It was only when Cinn pushed past them, face expressionless, eyes lifeless, to walk jerkily towards Westminster Bridge that he finally realised something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

Julien screamed Cinn’s name—once, in confusion, and then again, a strangled, desperate sound, dampened by the pounding rain.

It was to no avail.

Cinn kept walking straight forward, magnetised to the damn bridge, where the umbraphages seemed to be expanding, their dark forms whipping this way and that.

Putain! Putain! Putain!

Sheer panic rooted him to the spot. Distantly, he knew his brain should be kicking into overdrive, weighing up which plan of many options was best. Instead, he was frozen, feeling a little more lost with each step Cinn took away from him.

“Quickly!” Elliot yelled.

Blinking, Julien followed Elliot’s command, finally moving. Julien squeezed Elliot’s arm as he joined him. It was okay. Elliot was here. He wouldn’t let anything happen to any of them.

Darcy made to follow him and Elliot. Julien gave her a firm shove, praying she got the message, then pivoted sharply and ran .

It took only a few precious moments to catch up with Cinn. Elliot restrained his left arm while Julien grabbed his right. Their efforts ceased his movements, Cinn’s taut muscles straining against Julien’s tight grip. Cinn’s hoodie was entirely soaked through, and rain ran down his body in rivulets, his brown curls plastered to his forehead.

Julien pushed the soggy strands out of Cinn’s eyes, dull and blank. “Cinn! Mon amour! ”

There wasn’t even the slightest flicker of recognition in Cinn’s clouded expression. He only grunted as he once again attempted to overpower them to continue on his path, a train on invisible tracks.

The wind picked up. Non , that wasn’t the right expression, because suddenly it grew to an almost sentient, furious roar. It whipped around them. Like it was stealing the very air from their lungs, every breath becoming a struggle.

All around them, debris was surging towards the bridge, pushed by a wind tunnel. A chaotic urban cyclone—coffee cups, a stray bike tyre, newspapers. Several items slammed into them, the force of the wind growing with every passing second.

One of Julien’s feet slipped. Knocked off balance, his grip slackened and Cinn surged a step forward.

Unable to find the breath to even shout, Julien caught Elliot’s eye. Elliot shook his head wildly.

It would be a futile effort, but he had to try. Julien reached for the windmotes—the air charged with an unlimited supply, a buzzing energetic frenzy of them. He brought an unfathomably high quantity of them under his control, reaching out as far as possible, squeezing his eyes shut for a second for that extra sliver of concentration—

No sooner than he’d begun to channel them—to propel them against the tempest that was sucking them towards imminent doom—they slipped out of his control. The sensation was like holding onto a slippery fish. Julien was channelling but a drop in the ocean compared to the maelstrom of energy the gale possessed.

Elliot let out a loud roar of frustration, setting his face in a grim line and repositioning himself to push his entire body weight into Cinn.

Julien’s aching muscles strained to the point of shaking, the burn in them something unreal. His heart gave a painful squeeze when he shouted, “It’s no use!”

A powerful surge knocked them forwards, once, then again, even though Julien pushed against Cinn with all his might, clutching his grey hoodie like it was the only thing tethering him to the earth.

How have you let this happen? You only just saved him, and now you’ve marched him straight back into mortal danger.

If this kills him…

A few hot, frustrated tears made their home amongst the rain dripping down Julien’s face.

A wobble of his left knee. His leg gave way, slipping past Cinn’s and landing with a painful smack on the tarmac. Elliot shouted his name—without Julien’s support, Cinn flew forward out of his grip.

Non!

Using the last dregs of his energy, Julien pushed himself forwards, fingertips brushing against the fabric of Cinn’s coat before it was wrenched out of his hand.

Julien stared at his empty palm.

This was it. The moment they lost the battle.

And now, it was better to face the enemy head on than bury their heads in the sand.

Julien gave up resisting, allowing himself to be pulled deeper into the bridge. He grabbed Cinn’s hand, wrapping it firmly around his own. If they were going down, they’d go down together.

With Elliot on one side of Cinn, and Julien on the other, they fastened their gaze ahead of them, to the middle of the bridge, to face their fate .

Three umbraphages, wildly whipping their tendrils of black in every direction. Their shape and space expanded horrifically wide, creating a wall of darkness that stretched the entire width of the bridge. Several cars lay misshapen on their sides, haphazardly strewn across the ground, flung like toys by the hurricane. Even they were being dragged by the powerful tempest, scraping along the ground.

A fork of bright white lightning tore the dark sky in half.

A murmur of thunder smothered Julien’s anguished groan as he stared into the black pit created by the umbraphages, a hungry maw awaiting its prey.

In a handful of seconds, it would all be over.

Then—

A flicker of something in the corner of Julien’s eye. He spun. Embedded in the parapet was a trio of dim orange lamps on a single post, their weak light stuttering. The lamppost cast a weak shadow onto the bridge’s pavement. A shadow that moved.

It grew darker, darker still, until an ebony black puddle of darkness writhed on the ground.

Their ugly, demented demon pet sprung up from the surface, fleshing out its three-dimensional body with a very catlike shake of its non-fur. It cast its eyeless head about, gaze passing straight over Julien—of course—to find its one true love, Cinn.

A molecule of hope reared its head within Julien, which he quickly shot down—what was one measly shadow cat going to do against a wall of pure evil darkness?

The cat launched itself towards them, leaping like a tiger over an abandoned motorcycle to land by Cinn’s feet. It screeched. An animalistic piercing warble, frenetic in tone. Then it dashed between Cinn’s legs, pausing in his shadow. Dissolving like sugar in coffee, it melted into the ground.

“What the—” Elliot began.

The wind seemed to lessen, like the umbraphages had paused their efforts to watch with them. Cinn slowed his jerky movements, then stilled.

The darkness in the centre of Cinn’s shadow spread outward like an ink spill, clambering to fill every inch of his shape.

In one abrupt movement, Cinn stumbled forward, landing on his hands and knees and taking Julien down to the concrete with him. Smashed glass littered the road, a mosaic of shimmering shards that swiftly pierced Julien’s thigh.

He pushed the sharp pain to the back of his mind. It wasn’t important. It didn’t exist.

Cinn pushed himself up to kneel, staring down at his palms, bloodied with razor-thin cuts that created a small pool of crimson under them, quickly diluted by the rain.

“Cinn!”

Julien closed the small space between them, embedding yet more glass into his flesh. He bit the side of his cheek to distract himself, a burst of copper exploding in his mouth. He grabbed Cinn’s hands, plucking out one particularly large chunk of glass from near his left thumb.

“Ouch!” snapped Cinn, pulling his hand away.

Ignoring Cinn’s glare, Julien held his face with both hands, brought his lips to Cinn’s, pressing them together with bruising force. Cinn made a small noise of shock before he responded in turn. Impossibly, Cinn’s lips were even colder than Julien’s own. He kissed them again and again, breathing heat into them, his relief melting into the kiss. He devoured every warm exhalation of Cinn’s like it was his only substance. And in a way, that was true.

“Julien!” Elliot shouted, not sounding pleased for some reason. “We’re kind of in the middle of something here.”

He had a point, so Julien clambered to his feet, pulling Cinn up with him. Cinn gingerly rubbed at his left knee. His jeans were shredded and blood soaked, and seeing the glass embedded in his flesh caused Julien’s thigh to throb in sympathy.

The torrent of wind streaming through the bridge had desisted. Instead, water from the Thames churned upward around them, forming a circular vortex that encapsulated them in a surreal bubble of swirling fog and turbulent currents.

They were in the eye of the storm.

The air was eerily calm, ominously tranquil.

Elliot tipped his head back, assessing. “There’s fuck all lumenmotes, and we normally have at least twenty of us for a light net, but we’ll have to try. Unless you want to…”

Julien didn’t need Elliot to finish his sentence. He was asking if Julien would draw upon his motes. The illicit ones. They were, as usual, just within reach, their low hum his ever-present companion, begging to be channelled. As tempting as it was, the last time he’d used them, shadowrealm aside, he’d reduced a church to rubble. He had no desire to do the same to Westminster Bridge.

Regret slashed through him like a knife, closely followed by self-loathing, due to the pleading look in Elliot’s eye that he felt said, come on, save us.

“Woah! Wha—”

Julien’s head snapped to the object of Elliot’s sudden shock: Cinn’s shadow. Where before the cat had simply darkened it, when it had climbed inside or whatever the fuck it had done, now the silhouette stretched and undulated, edges trembling with an unsettling flicker. It pulsed and swelled, a monster being fed, growing larger with each heavy thump of Julien’s heartbeat.

“Cinn,” Julien croaked, a single chill running down his spine, as he remained transfixed by the shadow’s unnatural movement. He pointed behind Cinn .

Cinn spun, flinching at the sight. He raised one arm, and the shadow responded, stretching further along the ground like an oil spill. “Holy fuck.”

HELLO, SHADOW

How had Julien almost forgotten they were about to be devoured by three lethal beings from another realm? Apparently, they’d remembered how to talk.

Cinn stepped forward. “Hello.”

Alarmed at the unmistakable note of confidence in Cinn’s voice, Julien blocked him. “What are you doing? Don’t engage,” Julien hissed.

Ignoring him, Cinn moved around Julien. “I’m here. What do you want?” he hollered up at them.

“What the fuck, dude!” Elliot threw out his arms, as if ready to defend against any retort from the umbraphages.

Julien yanked on Cinn’s shoulder. “Have you gone quite mad? Don’t provoke them!”

Cinn spun, piercing him with his glare.

His black-eyed glare.

His gorgeous golden orbs were gone, now replaced with obsidian depths that reflected Julien’s stunned face. Only a tiny sliver of white remained. Behind Cinn, his shadow reared up, twisting like a dark serpent preparing to strike.

Julien’s hand fell away.

“Well?” Cinn screamed at them, with a stamp of his foot. “You want me? Come and get me then!”

Yes, indeed, Cinn had gone quite mad. Certifiably insane.

The umbrages erupted in response: their amorphous forms writhed and contorted violently, tendrils lashing out in every direction with chaotic fury.

YOU ARE SHADOW

What ?

Julien was out of time to talk Cinn down. Before he could react further, Cinn—and his shadow—surged forward, charging towards the umbraphages with an alarming ferocity. As he tore down the bridge, his shadow widened, deepened, darkened impossibly.

The three foes rose, merging as one to become a singular, colossal entity.

The air crackled, a volatile energy that charged the swirling foggy mist.

Then, it struck at Cinn.

A dark tendril whipped out from the umbraphages, racing towards Cinn’s tiny body, standing alone in the middle of the wide bridge. As fast as the lightning flashes above them, Cinn’s shadow expanded, its form shifting and morphing with a life of its own, to counter the strike with a swift, fluid movement.

The sight was mesmerising. Really, Julien ought to be screaming after him, terrified for his safety. Instead, he stood back, watching on in stunned awe.

Cinn threw his hands out in a position identical to the one young moteblessed channellers were encouraged to adopt when they first began. Julien could hear it now: Arms out, chest forward, eyes closed, feel the motes. Let them come to you.

The umbraphages hissed and recoiled, their countless shadowy tentacles flailing wildly—in shock?—before once again attempting to overpower the sentient darkness that was Cinn’s shadow.

With a sweeping gesture, his shadow morphed into a massive, clawed appendage, swiping at the umbraphages with a force that sent them reeling. The creatures retaliated, lashing out with their own tendrils, but Cinn’s shadow somehow managed to absorb the blows, its form rippling like water.

The two creatures of darkness clashed again and again, the umbraphages twisting and coiling their malleable limbs to avoid and deflect Cinn’s attacks .

Knees bent, Cinn’s legs were visibly shaking as he clearly pushed his body far over its limit. Julien ran to him. His eyes, now even deeper pits of blackness, looked straight through Julien, unseeing.

“Cinn!” Julien lightly slapped his cheeks.

“Leave him!” Elliot snapped.

“ Non ! It’s too much!”

The street lights flickered and dimmed, taking with them the remnants of daylight. The air around them grew cold and oppressive. Every clash of shadows sent a tremble through the bridge.

“Look!”

The umbraphages twisted and undulated, their movements erratic and unpredictable. In a swift, decisive motion, Cinn’s shadow entirely engulfed one of their number, its form dissipating into wisps of dark mist.

Elliot cheered. Warm pride exploded through Julien like a sudden burst of sunlight. It apparently took twenty gendarmes to take down an umbraphage. Twenty gendarmes, or one Cinn.

His Cinn.

Taking on the umbraphages by himself, while he and Elliot stood back and watched.

But there was no time for celebration. There were still two left, and they were pissed—rearing up, ready to strike.

While his shadow defended against an incoming blow to the right, an inky, fluid tentacle lashed towards Cinn’s left, curling around his forearm. Heart skipping several beats, Julien braced, preparing to see Cinn lifted into the air and torn in two.

The umbraphage released him with a flick.

Julien hissed through his teeth. He stared at Cinn’s arm, ready to observe the flesh torn to shreds, or worse—swimming with the contaminant—but instead, he witnessed Cinn’s metal band shattering into a million pieces .

The gold fragments fell to the floor like sparkling confetti.

The umbraphages made a low rumbling noise—of satisfaction? Of amusement ?

Anger flared through Julien. Just what were they playing at, toying with them like this?

They don’t want to hurt him.

They… want him.

A horrible sinking feeling took root in Julien’s stomach.

Something was changing. A seismic shift. What started as a vibration under their feet soon rose to shake the very air. Cinn still stood, shadow at the ready, eyes black as the night, but the umbraphages ceased their attacks. An eerie, guttural hum emanated from them.

The sinking feeling grew like a weed, climbing up through him to squeeze his heart, then further up to wrap around his brain, choking it. An unmistakable sensation of melancholy washed over him. It was as if it drained away all of his colour, all of himself, leaving only an empty vessel.

His one remaining thought—that he held onto with absolute clarity—was that nothing mattered anymore. Not his never-ending mission for answers. Not this fight on the bridge. Certainly not his own survival.

The last fragment of light faded further, plunging them towards near darkness. The umbraphages expanded and expanded, their shadowy forms coalescing into an inky mass that surged forward, enveloping everything in its path: pavement, cars, lampposts, bodies, all swallowed into oblivion.

Elliot shouted curses and prayers. Julien felt him draw upon the weak supply of lumenmotes. A last-ditch attempt at defence.

Cinn’s shadow wavered, shrinking in on itself. His hands were by his sides, fisting the cuff of his hoodie’s sleeves in that childlike way he did when he was nervous.

Or scared .

Only moments left now—the impenetrable wall of darkness closing in with relentless certainty.

Cinn turned his head to meet Julien’s, fear etched into every line.

Some small part of Julien forced himself to react.

Julien dove towards Cinn, wrapping himself around him as the world became a swirl of darkness and dread.