The Light Within (Shadow and Light Duology #2)

12. Elliot

twelve

Elliot

T he very second that Julien and Cinn fell to the ground like puppets with their strings cut, the storm stopped. The clouds didn’t miraculously clear, but the punishing rain stopped pelting Westminster, and the cyclonic wind ceased.

And when Elliot looked up from the lifeless bodies of his best friends, he found the umbraphages had vanished.

He allowed himself one large breath to steady the tempest that still raged inside him, then leapt into action. Wasting not a second more, he charged over to his fallen comrades, dropping to his knees to snatch up Julien’s wrist. Elliot’s trembling fingers sought the telltale flutter of his pulse. It was there.

“Thank Christ,” Elliot muttered.

Though—did it feel weak? Elliot was no doctor.

“DARCY!” Elliot bellowed at the top of his lungs, using his palms to cup his mouth.

Her small frame soon sprinted towards him, auburn hair a wet, bedraggled mess. “What happened?” she gasped, looking between the two slumped forms and Elliot, still with Julien’s wrist under his fingers.

“The umbraphages fucked off at the same time they hit the ground. They’re both unconscious. Do you think they’ve—”

“—gone to the shadowrealm,” Darcy finished, falling to the ground to join them. “Ouch!”

She pointed at Cinn’s shin, shredded from the glass. Blood pooled out from the wounds, staining the blue denim of his jeans. Julien’s thigh was a similar story. Elliot himself must have been covered in bruises—he felt like he’d been thrown down ten flights of stairs. Every muscle ached, a deep throbbing pain that pulsed in time with his heartbeat, but there was no time to think about himself when his friends’ unconscious bodies were bleeding. Sirens sounded, growing increasingly louder.

“A couple of gendarmes have arrived, but they’re outnumbered by paramedics. We can’t let them have these two like this.”

“What?” Elliot blinked at her, exhausted mind running on empty fumes.

“We can’t have them interfering with their bodies if they’re in the shadowrealm,” she snapped at him. “We need to move them out of the way, then see to their wounds.”

Elliot dragged himself to his feet.

Darcy looked between the heavy bodies and Elliot. “Do you need me to—”

“No.”

For a delusional second, Elliot considered lifting each of them over a shoulder to carry them both at once, then laughed at himself. He picked up Cinn first. He looked heavier—best to get the worst of it over with.

Elliot heaved Cinn’s limp body up, staggering under the weight as he adjusted his grip to place him in a fireman’s carry. He was even heavier than expected, his solid frame dead weight in Elliot’s arms. Every tired muscle screamed in protest, but he ignored them, gritting his teeth and marching down Westminster Bridge.

The rain-soaked pavement slick beneath his boots, Elliot splashed in puddles as he pushed forward. Reaching the lion statue, he ducked around it, out of sight from the prying eyes of the paramedics. Two ambulances had pulled up near the bridge, sirens casting blue light that flickered across the wet streets like flashes of lightning. The paramedics moved swiftly, urgent shouts cutting through the already chaotic scene.

Ever so gently, he lowered Cinn down to the ground, placing him on his side, and trying not to look at his bleeding leg wound. Then, he turned, jogging all the way back to Julien.

Darcy helped lift Julien off the ground this time. It was a good thing she did—Elliot was quickly running out of emergency energy reserves. He threw Julien over his shoulder.

“I’ll run ahead to see what I can find.” Darcy sprinted off before Elliot could agree.

“Come on then,” he murmured to Julien. The bridge stretched out ahead like a marathon, the towering statue of the lion his finish line.

As he dragged one foot in front of another, Elliot’s gaze fell on Julien’s expressionless face. The usual spark in his eyes, that quick wit always dancing at the corners of his lips—gone. His face was eerily still, a mask devoid of life, pale beneath the wet strands of blond hair plastered to his skin. Panic clawed its way into Elliot’s chest, his heart pounding as blood rushed through his ears.

“Don’t you dare,” he whispered, voice tight with fear. “You need to come back, you hear me?”

Julien’s body remained limp, unresponsive, the weight of it pressing heavier on Elliot’s mind than his shoulders.

Ten years. That’s how long it had been since that life-changing moment when he’d met Julien, on the first day of summer camp. Yet, he could remember it like it was yesterday—the long bus journey from Barcelona airport.

Elliot hadn’t wanted to be sent away at the age of fourteen to spend his summer in Europe, to hone his channelling skills. Yet there he was, last to arrive at the designated bus stop—late, after a slight detour to the shop to buy some candy. He’d spent too long choosing between the fruity gummies or chocolate-covered peanuts. After all, it was incredibly important that he got this decision right—how would he possibly make friends if he couldn’t bribe them?

When he’d finally paid using strange coins, he sprinted to the bus, where the angry face of the bus driver greeted him as he ticked Elliot off on his clipboard. Elliot swallowed down a thick lump in his throat, cursing his parents once again for forcing him to travel alone to another continent, sending him away for an entire month of his summer.

The driver stowed his luggage, shouting at him in Spanish and gesturing to the door.

Elliot only managed to take three shaky steps down the aisle of the bus before the driver accelerated, sending Elliot flying forward onto his knees.

The thirty-or-so passengers, all around his age, burst into raucous laughter that echoed off the walls of the bus, filling the tight space with a wave of mocking glee. Elliot’s cheeks burned with embarrassment as he scrambled to his feet, trying to gather what little dignity he had left. The sound felt like it went on forever, each snicker and chuckle twisting his stomach in knots.

Before Elliot could fully right himself, a pale arm shot out from one of the seats and yanked him sideways. He stumbled into the empty spot, heart still racing. Glancing over, he found a boy with tousled blond hair and a lazy smirk, his grey eyes gleaming with something like amusement, but not mockery. An open sketchpad lay on his lap, but the boy snapped it shut.

“Do you want to be friends?” the boy asked, his English thickly accented.

Elliot stared at him, blinking rapidly. How was this his luck? He hadn’t even brought the fruit gummies out of his pocket yet!

“Well?” the boy asked impatiently. He wasn’t smiling. “I’m only going to make you this offer once. It’s now, or don’t bother talking to me again.”

Realising his mouth hung open, Elliot snapped it shut, but not before a nervous laugh slipped out. He studied the odd boy—the slight tremor in his hands as they rested on the sketchpad, the way his foot tapped anxiously against the floor. Beneath the bravado, there was a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes that mirrored Elliot’s own fears.

Elliot held out his hand.

The boy eyed it. “Do you promise to stick with me?” It sounded more like a threat than an offer.

Elliot nodded, and the boy took his hand.

In that moment, Elliot felt a sudden, visceral connection with the stranger. Where their hands locked, a jolt of electricity passed through. His breath was stolen, and the boy finally flashed him a dimpled smile, that brilliant, beautiful smile. And so began the theft of his heart.

By the end of that summer, Elliot was deeply and irrevocably in love with Julien.

Behind the lion statue, Elliot lowered the body of his best friend down to the ground. He couldn’t resist gently brushing Julien’s hair away from his face.

Elliot had been Julien’s shadow for that entire summer, and the one after that, and so on.

Then he’d followed him to Paris for college.

By the time Julien announced his plans to move to Auri, there was no question about where Elliot would go. He’d go wherever Julien—and Darcy, by that point—went.

Julien’s chest rose and fell shallowly.

Fuck. What if—

Panic surged through him, and his breath quickened as the world around him began to blur. Logic slipped from his grasp with every heartbeat, and all he could think about was Julien slipping away beneath his hands.

No!

Elliot shook Julien. Gently, at first, then more violently, shaking his entire body. “Wake up!” he said, voice cracking. “You don’t get to leave me! Remember our promise! ”

“Elliot!”

A hand behind him squeezed his shoulder. He turned to find Cinn, still half-slumped on the floor, but awake. Alive. Alive, but alarmed. “Hey! Calm down!”

Relief coursed through Elliot, but it was the tidal wave of guilt that knocked the breath from his lungs. Partially because he’d just shaken Julien like a rag doll. Partially because he’d completely ignored Cinn’s equally lifeless form. But the largest source of his guilt was—

Fuck, Cinn had just heard the raw desperation in his voice as he cradled Julien, and Elliot had been trying so, so hard to show Cinn how much he supported their relationship.

Hot prickles behind Elliot’s eyes blurred the world. “Here,” he croaked, passing Julien to Cinn. “Take him.” A look of alarm crossed Cinn’s face as he reached out to grab him.

He rounded the statue, tipping his head back to rest on the cool stone plinth.

Cinn was awake. That meant Julien would surely soon be too. Any second now.

Chill the fuck down , Elliot urged himself, but it was difficult in the chaotic environment. Medical personnel and police flooded the road and pavement. The blue light of several ambulances spun dizzying patterns across the wet ground, illuminating the tumultuous scene as people dashed around.

He fixed his eyes on a stone on the pavement, willing his horrible, confused feelings away. He’d count to ten, then return to Cinn and pretend nothing had happened.

Darcy’s boots materialised. “I’ve got bandages.”

“Cinn’s awake.”

“Oh, thank God! Julien?”

Elliot sighed. “Let’s go see. ”

He braced himself as he rounded the corner, plastering on a neutral expression.

There, on the ground, Cinn was holding Julien with a fierce tenderness that made the world around them fade into the background. Cinn’s lips were pulled into a wide smile as his gaze locked onto Julien, his eyes wide with a mixture of relief and intense emotion, as if he were afraid to blink lest this fragile moment shatter.

Julien reached up, fingers visibly trembling, and brushed against Cinn’s cheek.

Elliot swallowed. The air between Julien and Cinn shimmered with unspoken words, and he almost took a step backwards, until Darcy shoved him forwards.

Cinn’s head snapped up to lock eyes with Elliot, and Elliot tensed, prepared for any mixture of distrust, annoyance, hatred even to be shot at him.

But instead, he only saw concern on Cinn’s face.

“Well, you’re awake now, so I guess you should go see the paramedics,” said Darcy, still clutching the bandages, sounding put out by the whole thing. “Probably sooner rather than later. Though they’re pretty swamped.”

“Give us one more minute.” Cinn reached for the bandages, but Darcy crouched in the puddle to press a bundle of them to his leg, tossing some to Elliot for Julien.

Julien hissed in pain when Elliot compressed his wad of fabric against the torn, bloodied material on his thigh, quickly taking it from him to do it himself.

“What happened then?” asked Elliot. “The umbraphage disappeared and you two fell to the ground.”

Julien shuffled, sitting himself up higher. “Well,” he started, before launching into the tale .

Elliot only interrupted when they reached a name he didn’t recognise. “Father Gérard? Who’s that?”

Julien tipped his head back and sighed. “He’s the priest of the church my mother frequented, in the village outside Paris where she grew up.”

Darcy caught Elliot’s eye.

“ Oui ,” Julien snapped. “The church where…”

Elliot could see the sentence running through Julien’s head: The church where I killed her.

“The church where she died,” Elliot, supplied for him, tone firm.

Julien shook his head almost imperceptibly, lips pursing together. Elliot’s heart ached for him, and he was a fraction of a moment away from stepping towards him, stopping himself only when Cinn squeezed Julien’s shoulder, tilting his head in concern.

“Well, apparently Béatrice was dropping in for coffee with the priest, completely unbeknown to us!” Julien glared between Elliot and Darcy as if they were co-conspirators—projecting his own self-loathing. “Can you believe it? When? ”

Elliot’s heart gave another painful squeeze. He could see right through Julien. How he wished Eleanor would miraculously tell him Béatrice’s file was all a misunderstanding. How much he wanted the sister he knew back, living on in his memories, untainted and pure.

Elliot gently fell to the ground to press Julien’s hand more firmly against the blood flow. The bandages were quickly soaking through. “I get it. No, I can’t believe it, and I’m hurt by it too. But look, you’re not in this alone. Let’s get through Christmas, then we’ll get to the bottom of it all.”

Elliot’s eyes were glued to where his hand was on top of Julien’s. His face warmed, his brain imagining Cinn glaring at him, despite the unlikeness of that. It was Elliot who’d been jealous of Cinn, initially. Cinn had been nothing but friendly. Elliot forced his head up. Cinn was indeed looking at them, but there was a soft smile on his face, warm and understanding, as if he saw through Elliot’s hesitation and felt no threat, only kindness.

Darcy let out a random, abrupt squeak, attracting everyone’s attention. “Okay, so don’t get cross, I was just about to get to this—”

She didn’t bother finishing her sentence.

A face Elliot didn’t expect to see was marching towards them.

Eleanor Sinclair.

True, upon reflection, it should have been obvious that she’d come to the crisis, even on Christmas Eve, which Julien mentioned she usually spent with her sister in Norway. She’d taken the Baths—her glasses were missing, and she wore the grey baggy clothes the service provided.

Julien started climbing unsteadily to his feet, with Cinn following close behind. Elliot reached out to grab Julien’s arm, hauling him up so Julien could continue pressing against his leg.

“Julien!” she said, by way of greeting. She eyed him expectantly, completely ignoring Elliot and the others. When Julien only stared back, she continued, “Darcy told me some insane tale about the three of you marching onto the bridge to play heroes.”

Elliot snorted before he could stop himself, then chuckled at Darcy’s wide-eyed look of horror.

“I’m sorry, are you joking? This is your response? Without even asking how we are? Without a thank you for the fact we chose to help, on behalf of Auri, when we easily could have run home to hide?” replied Julien.

“Do you have a death wish I should be aware of? You are not invincible, Julien Montaigne!”

Ignoring her, Julien continued, sweetening his tone to say, “Thank you so much for attempting to save innocent Londoners, Julien, Elliot, and Cinn. On behalf of the consortium, let me extend our most gracious thanks for your valiant efforts. It was truly noble of you to risk your lives, and we will now forever be in your debt. ”

Pure fury flashed on Eleanor’s face, her lips curling into a sneer as she opened her mouth to retort.

“ Non !” shouted Julien, startling Darcy, who flinched. “I’m not going to stand here for one more second and listen—”

Elliot shifted restlessly on the balls of his feet, a knot of anxiety tightening in his stomach. This was the last thing they all needed, especially Julien.

He’d have to intervene, to calm Julien down. He’d—

Cinn grabbed Julien’s shoulders, swiftly twisting him so they faced each other. “Hey,” Cinn said, pressing a hand—covered in small, bleeding lacerations that really ought to be looked at sometime soon—against Julien’s cheek. “Let’s leave it. It’s not worth getting worked up over.”

Julien’s jaw clenched. “But—”

“Nope.” Cinn’s other hand snaked around Julien’s waist, drawing him closer.

Elliot held his breath. Half of him almost expected Julien to throw Cinn off, turn back to Eleanor, and continue to give her a piece of his mind.

Then Cinn’s bloody hand tangled in the mess of Julien’s hair, brushing it out of the way to lean in and whisper something softly to him. Julien melted into him, and soon they formed a bubble of just the two of them while they all looked on from the outside. Julien and Cinn against the world.

A traitorous hot, thick lump formed in Elliot’s throat as his heart tied itself in a knot. Look at them, he forced himself to think. Look how easily Cinn talked Julien down off the ledge. Look how perfect they are together.

You’re happy for them. You are.

Elliot didn’t realise Darcy had moved behind Eleanor to stand next to him until her small hand slipped into his and squeezed. He squeezed it back without looking at her .

Eleanor cleared her throat. “Clearly, it’s been a long and difficult day for everyone,” she managed, sucking her lips into her teeth until they disappeared. “Quickly recount to me what happened here, then we can all be on our way. We can debrief fully after the holidays.”

Eleanor directed the question at Elliot, evidently acknowledging Julien was a lost cause.

Elliot licked his lips. If they’d never found Eleanor’s secret files, this would be so much easier.

A deep frown fragmented Eleanor’s forehead. “Well? By the time Salvatore Gallo had arrived with the small number of gendarmerie he could pull together, the hurricane was barely a breeze, and the umbraphages had vanished of their own will? Unless you’re about to tell me that Julien…”

Eleanor redirected her gaze to pierce Julien meaningfully with her beady glare. Elliot knew what she was asking him—did Julien tap into his enigmatic motes? As far as Elliot knew, Julien’s mother had confided in her, back when she and Julien were attempting to figure out his inexplicable abilities together.

Elliot was sure Eleanor would be delighted if Julien announced that he was the solution to their biggest problem.

But that wasn’t going to happen.

“They simply vanished,” Julien said, smiling at her.

Eleanor sighed, pressing two fingers to her temple. For once, she almost looked her age. Elliot forced himself to squash down the tiniest shred of remorse.

But Eleanor was the closest thing Julien had to a parent he actually had a relationship with, and she’d been deceiving him for months. Was possibly involved in killing his sister, even. So Elliot’s sympathy for the moment was short-lived.

A tsk from Eleanor, then a single shake of her head before she spun on her heel and stormed off, swallowed instantly into the crowd .

“Are you okay?” Cinn hadn’t released Julien, the two of them still interlocked. A complete unit. The connection between them undeniable, two halves of a whole.

“Absolutely fine,” Julien said, sounding almost delirious.

Cinn looked over Julien’s shoulder to Elliot. “What about you, mate? Are you alright? Sorry we left you on the bridge.”

Elliot shrugged. “Don’t worry about me.” I was absolutely fine, not on the verge of a breakdown at all.

Cinn untangled one arm from Julien and reached out for Elliot. When Elliot didn’t immediately move closer, Cinn leaned over and tugged on his coat sleeve, pulling him into the embrace. Julien sagged against him, his weight pressing onto Elliot’s shoulder with a groan. Cinn, still holding Julien, seemed to wait for Elliot to meet his gaze, offering a subtle, deliberate smile when he did.

The tension that had been gripping Elliot’s chest like an iron vice finally began to ease. Elliot mirrored Cinn’s smile with a grin of his own, warmth flooding through him. If he believed in lucky stars, he’d be thanking them a thousand times over for bringing Cinn into his life. Into all of their lives.

“Fuck, Eleanor was just a real piece of work,” said Elliot, before he started crying or something.

“A complete bitch,” declared Darcy, earning the three shocked heads snapping towards her.

Elliot made a hooting noise, filling the air with laughter. “Are you finally over your girl crush on her?”

A beat of silence.

“Fuck you.”

The look on Darcy’s face was so utterly serious, so fiercely resolute, that Cinn started snickering, joining in with Elliot, and then Julien finally cracked, joining in with his own laughter—his genuine, loud, cackling laughter Elliot treasured so much.

Darcy managed all of five seconds before her stern scowl twitched, her face splitting into a smile as bright as the sun.

“You’re all idiots,” she said at last. “But yes, Elliot, I am very much over my girl crush.”