Page 37 of The Light Within

Ah.

Cinn reached down to unzip his duffle bag. Hand outstretched, he froze.

The bag hadmoved. Just an inch. But it had nudged itself towards the wall.

A tiny electrical zip shot through him, similar to his body’s reaction to shadowmotes landing on him in the shadowrealm.

Something was in there.

Or… had he finally reached a new level of exhaustion?

Yes, that was it.

Cinn gripped the zip, unzipped it partway. He paused again. No, somethingwasin there. The bag wasn’t moving. He couldn’t hear anything. But he couldfeelit. An invisible pressure was emanating from the bag. His skin prickled. Every hair on the back of his neck raised.

“What the fuck?” he mumbled. He opened his mouth again, to explain the sensation to Julien, but lacked the words.

Slowly,ever so slowly, he continued to unzip the duffle bag, the sound of the zipper teeth separating the only sound in the tense silence. His hands trembled slightly as the gap widened, revealing the contents.

Hoodies. Batteries. Three lighters. Christmas presents wrapped so badly, parts of them were poking out of the paper.

He untensed his shoulders.You bloody moron.

Cinn’s sea of grey hoodies shifted, a slow, unsettling ripple that sent a shiver down his spine.Fuck.

“Julien…”

“Hmm?” Julien emerged from the en-suite bathroom, toothbrush in mouth.

“There’s something moving… I canfeelsomething…” Cinn pointed to the duffle.

Julien produced a confused scoff, gesturing ‘what?’ to the bag with his free hand.

Then, he kicked it.

The contents erupted in a chaotic burst. A flying lighter hit a crystal vase, sending a sharp clink reverberating through the air. A spare battery for his Walkman landed squarely in the middle of Julien’s forehead.Colourful Christmas present paper fluttered gently down around them like confetti.

“What the…?”

Because he had his priorities in order, Cinn quickly swept up all the unwrapped presents and stuffed them into a drawer while Julien was distracted with the bag.

“This must be a joke!” Julien said.

Cinn spun to see a pair of black, shadowy ears poking out of the duffle. His terror dissipated, heart rate slowing to a steady thud of cautious relief.

“Béatrice!”

The cat ignored Julien and went straight for Cinn, weaving through his legs repeatedly with a determined persistence. Her grizzly, demonic purr was oddly soothing. As Cinn ran his hands over the knobs of her spine, a strange warmth spread from her into him, starting at his fingertips and cascading throughout his limbs. Simultaneously, he became aware, for the very first time, of her heartbeat—a rapid, steady drumming, a primal rhythm far faster than his own. Though, as he narrowed his focus, the pace of his heartbeat gradually increased—or did the cat’s decrease?—until their heartbeats synchronised, aligning in a soothing, grounding rhythm.

“Hello,” he whispered, and Béatrice replied with a hum that he didn’t so much hear as feel.

“Cinn?!” Julien shouted, deafening him. He’d possibly been shouting Cinn’s name for a while.

He dragged his eyes away from the cat to Julien, sitting on the bed, arms crossed.

“I said, what the hell are you doing? You’ve been staring into each other’s eyes for the last five minutes.”

He sounded quite cross.

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