Page 115 of Poison Sun

But what’s that one saying? The enemy of my enemy is a friend?

Lucas is a monster. The shadow souls, however, are worse. I have a better chance against them with Lucas by my side than if I’m alone.

Like deadly reapers, they start making their way down. Surprisingly slowly, as if we’re a meal they’re preparing to savor.

“Let’s go,” I say, and Lucas and I run, darting off the stage and into some undergrowth, hopping the metal rails to the closest path.

The river’s to our right. The exit is to the left, all the way across the island.

The moment we’re on the path, I hear more howls.

From the left, of course. Which gives us no other choice but to keep running along the back of the island, up a set of uneven, stone steps, and pray we can lose them for long enough to make our way out.

We could also launch a full-blown attack. But it doesn’t take a genius to know the numbers aren’t in our favor, especially given our current conditions.

The shadow souls are the predators, and we’re the prey. Not just regular prey. We’re weakened prey.

And what’s the best thing prey can do to try to live?

Run.

Plus, the longer we evade the shadow souls, the more time we have for our strength and magic to replenish.

So, together, Lucas and I scramble up more steps to the highest point on the island.

When we reach the top, we survey the landscape for the best route of escape.

We’re at the main lookout point, which gives us a great view of the Empire State Building to the left and the World Trade Center to the right. The only path out is the one from where we came.

We can’t stay up here. It’ll be too easy for them to corner us.

“That way.” I point over the rail and across some underbrush that leads to another path. One that seems empty of shadow souls.

Lucas nods, and we jump the rail, hurrying toward the exit.

Unfortunately, the bridge out of here is blocked by a handful of shadow souls. They haven’t spotted us yet, but if they do…

I reach for my magic to see if there’s anything I can use to blast through them.

Nothing.

Lucas is already spinning on his heel to backtrack down the path.

“Come on,” he says, pulling me toward an arch that looks like it leads to a fairy tale garden. “I have an idea.”

I don’t trust Lucas and his ideas.

But you know what I trust less?

The shadow souls.

So, I follow him under the arch.

We emerge into a sunken space with a circular, wooden platform in the center. Three rows of ascending benches are on the left, the river’s straight ahead, and there’s a stone wall to the right.

“Jump,” Lucas says, pointing at the river.

I stare at him, shocked. “Into the Hudson?”

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