Page 29 of Poison Sun

The others are here, hidden around the area, but I can’t be seen with them. It would ruin everything.

I should be nervous, or afraid, or something of the sort. But I’m none of those things. Because I can’t get my mind off the Shadow Lord.

I dreamed about him again last night.

He got closer this time. He reached for me, his fingers brushing my cheek, his touch cold as he gazed down at me with those intense, inky pools of his eyes that are inhuman and captivating at the same time. A storm of power and darkness that tugs at the edges of my consciousness, even while awake.

And last night, for the first time, we talked.

“Why are you in my dreams?” I asked him.

His lips curved into a smirk, a gesture both menacing and mesmerizing. “Perhaps it’s not me who haunts your dreams, Amber, but you who haunts mine.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Is it?” His voice chilled me to the bone, the challenge in it clear, and I struggled to find my voice through my pounding heart.

“What do you want from me?” I finally asked.

He leaned closer, his breath cool against my skin. “What I want is complex, yet simple. You, Amber, are a puzzle, a beacon of star touched light in my shadowed existence. Your power and spirit call to me. They challenge me.”

I should have run and escaped his grasp.

Instead, I let him get closer. So close that his lips nearly brushed against mine.

I woke before they could.

Now, my heart pounds simply from thinking about him.

They’re just dreams, I remind myself. They’re not real.

But even if they’re not real, they’re created by me. My subconscious mind, trying to tell me something.

I just wish I knew what that something was.

I’m yanked out of my thoughts by my phone buzzing in my pocket.

A message from my mom.

How are you doing? You’ve been quiet recently. Everything okay?

No, I itch to type back. Everything is definitely NOT okay.

But I can’t say that. Her world and mine are galaxies apart now. And the farther I can keep her from this storm I’m caught up in, the better.

So, I raise my phone and snap a photo of the Washington Square Arch. Its marble façade gleams under the sun, majestic against the clear noon sky. Groups of tourists and locals alike smile and chat in the park beyond. It would be a perfect scene, if what I’m about to step into wasn’t so terrifying.

The text to my mom is simple, accompanied by the photo.

Just enjoying the sun at the park with some friends. All good here :)

After sending the message, I tuck my phone away and let my gaze linger on the arch. It’s beautiful.

However, I didn’t come here to sightsee.

So, I reach for the small, plastic bag in my pocket, open it, and pull out the single berry inside. It’s like the reddest raspberry that ever existed, its skin shimmering not from the sunlight above, but from magic within.

It’s not duskberry.

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