Page 3 of The Light Within

Darcy coughed. “Guys? You realise we’re going to have to take it home on the bus, right?”

By the time they’d settled back in Darcy’s living room, the cat was practically eating out of the palm of Cinn’s hand. Well, licking it. She hadn’t wanted any of the cat food they’d offered her, even the gourmet salmon, which looked rather appetising.

Cinn, who hadn’t so much as glanced up since he’d sat down on the armchair with the cat on his lap, ran his fingers between her ears. She nuzzled against his palm.

“You can put her down for a second, you know,” Julien said.

“Oh, sorry, did you want me to scratch your head instead?” Cinn stared at Julien, batting his eyelashes innocently, sending Elliot into a snickering fit he failed to disguise as a cough.

Ignoring them, Julien shuffled across the rug, reaching towards the creature slowly, compelled to finally feel the texture of its—Béatrice’s?— shadowy form. His fingers connected with inky fibres that magnetised towards him, attracted to his hand. A cool sensation danced across his fingertips. How could something simultaneously feel so solid and so…not…at once?

The cat purred.

Darcy cleared her throat, then eyed the cat with pursed lips. “Look Julien, I think we really need to consider how to send it back.”

“What? Why? She’s clearly here for a reason!”

They’d finally found her, and now Darcy wanted her gone?

Cinn shifted the creature around on his lap before pulling her closer against his chest. “Not a chance. Béatrice didn’t like the shadowrealm, Darcy. She was lonely there.”

“This…thingdoesn’t belong here. Cinn, did you and Noir ever discuss this? Movement between the two realms?” asked Darcy.

The eccentric academic was supposed to be mentoring Cinn, though Cinn was quiet about the content of their sessions.

“Nope. All Noir told me is that there was only ever one other shadowslipper that brought things back. I’ve got no idea about the shadowrealm’s return policy.”

“Darcy, we’re not going to ‘return’ her. She’s here to help,” Julien bit out, unable to dampen his rising temper. Her negativity was the last thing they needed at the end of the long day.

“How?It’s not like she’s able to talk to us!”

“We haven’t asked her anything yet!”

Elliot laughed hollowly, leaning forward from the sofa to address the cat. “Béatrice, take us to the leader of the Arcane Purifiers and we’ll buy you some catnip.”

Julien didn’t miss the glance Cinn threw his way, likely wondering if he was going to continue to deny Béatrice’s involvement in the ‘controversial at best, terrorist at worst’ activist group. AP had been lobbying the consortium for years now. Their theory about mote usage causing the umbraphage emergence was largely disputed.

Julien opened his mouth—

“It’s late,” Darcy said, abruptly standing in that pointed way she did when she wanted them all out of her cottage.

The cat stretched her front two legs out as if in agreement, before hopping down and padding out of the room, a frowning Cinn hot on her tail. They trailed after the pair of them. Julien almost suggested Darcy make sure all her windows were shut—but a creature made of shadows was unlikely to be contained by mere solid material.

The cat darted straight towards Béatrice’s bedroom. Julien’s breath caught in his throat. Sniffing at the closed door, the cat scratched at the wood with a frantic urgency, then paused, as if considering her next move. Slowly, she pressed itself lower, her fur rippling and shifting, like water disturbed by a strong wind. Then, with a liquid fluidity, her body began to flatten as it melted into a dark, formless puddle.

Julien blinked rapidly, in case his eyes were deceiving him. His sister, a shadow puddle? It shimmered with an unnatural sheen as it stretched across the threshold, then sucked itself under the narrow gap beneath the door, vanishing.

Point proven.

Slack-jawed, Cinn pushed open Béatrice’s door, and for a moment the four of them wordlessly stared at the eyeless cat lying on her bed, flicking its tail.

“Still don’t believe it’s her, Elliot?” Julien asked, a little smugly. Being right had never felt so good. Yet underneath his facade, his heart drummed, his mind racing to process the strange turn of events.

“Okay…” said Darcy, slowly. “I guess it’s welcome to Béatrice’s room, but I’m not getting it a litter tray.”

“Deal.”

“And we probably should tellsomeoneabout this—”

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