Page 123 of The Light Within

Pressing two fingers to his temple, Cinn calculated possible outcomes. Best case—Julien killed his father. Worst case—that fucker killed Julien.

Great stuff.

Another noise downstairs.Elliot.

Cinn pounded down the stairs to find him rooting around in the fridge. In one hand, he held the bowl of leftover lasagna Cinn had cooked yesterday.

“What the hell, mate?” Cinn all but shouted at him, waving the note in the air.

Elliot’s face twisted into a pained grimace, like he’d just bitten into a lemon, his eyes darting nervously between the lasagna and the note in Cinn’s hand. “Am I still allowed to eat this?”

“This isn’t funny! Why did you let him go?”

Elliot closed the fridge and helped himself to a fork. “Oh, come on, what was I meant to do, knock him out? You know what Julien’s like!”

Cinn stared at him, speechless. What had Elliot been thinking? Cinn would happily have knocked Julien out to stop him marching off alone like some noble idiot. It didn’t sound like Elliot had even attempted to stop him. Cinn clenched then unclenched his jaw, then folded his arms across his bare chest. “Why are you even here?”

“Uhh.. protection?” Elliot looked deeply offended. “In case you’re attacked again. Look, dude, maybe this isn’t the worst idea. Maybe this is a simple way to sort everything out. Julien isn’t a delicate flower. His channelling abilities areinsane. Like, seriously. You don’t need to worry about him.” Elliot was speaking very fast. Too fast. “And he reassured me he’s got a foolproof plan. You know I wouldn’t have let him go if I thought there was any chance of danger.” Crinkles appeared in the corner of his eyes. “But he’s not in any danger,” Elliot repeated. But there was a tiny unspoken,‘Right?’at the end of it.

“I’m not only worried he might get hurt,” Cinn said through gritted teeth. “I’m worried about what it’ll do to him if he hurts his father.”

“That piece of shit? He deserves it, though.”

Elliot really wasn’t getting it, so Cinn clamped his mouth shut. His telephone caught his eye—the handle was off the hook.

Elliot said, “Oh yeah, Julien rang Darcy to tell her the plan. Then he hung up on her and left your phone like that so she couldn’t ring back to yell at him.”

Three knocks at the front door.

“That’ll probably be her.” Elliot put the bowl of lasagna down, one lastbite remaining in it.

Cinn went to answer the door, even though Elliot was supposed to be there as his main line of defence. Indeed, it was Darcy on the doorstep: eyes blazing with fury, one hand clutching a coffee cup like it was a weapon. She pushed past him. Cinn followed her back to the kitchen, giving Elliot a smug smirk over her shoulder. It was two against one now.

The pair of them had it out for a good ten minutes, Cinn leaving them fighting to get dressed. By the time he returned downstairs, Darcy was bright red, and Elliot looked vaguely remorseful.

Darcy passed Cinn a mug of hot tea. “He’s an utter fool.”

“I know.”

“But he’ll be okay.” The promise in her words was a fragile thread of hope that Cinn wanted nothing more than to cling on to.

Movement in the corner of the living room caught his eye. The shadow cast by the worn armchair was flickering. Expanding. Darkening.

Béatrice, in all her hideous, eyeless demon-cat glory, emerged from the puddle of darkness, then hissed a greeting, her form undulating wildly. Cinn expected her to pad up to him, wrapping herself around his legs as she often did. Instead, the cat arched her back, her shadowy fur bristling in frantic spikes as she let out a series of frenzied, distorted yowls, her erratic movements a desperate attempt to convey a message.

Cinn dropped to his knees and reached for her. Béatrice sprang towards him with a sudden burst of shadowy energy, her form writhingand twisting as she nudged her head against his knee, insistently. It didn’t take a genius to pinpoint the source of her urgent distress. “She’s telling us Julien’s in danger!”

“Is she?” Elliot’s voice was laced with panic, and it took everything Cinn had left in him not to shout at him for letting him go.

“What else would it be?” Cinn bit out instead.

Letting out another yelp, Béatrice circled the three of them, ignoring Darcy’s soothing coos. Then, with a final disdainful glare, she jumped back into the armchair’s shadow and disappeared.

Silence filled the room.

“We need to go, now.” Cinn dared the other two to disagree.

Elliot tugged a single corkscrew curl away from his head, then let it spring back into place. At Darcy’s expectant look, he said, “Okay. Fuck.”

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