Page 46 of The Light Within

A shadowy limb snatched up one runner, to shake them in the air like a rag doll.

Darcy threw him a quick, confused look. “They can’t see them, Cinn. They have no idea what’s going on!”

“What?!”

The information didn’t have time to sink in—they were there, at the entrance to the bridge. It seemed like they’d reached the heart of thestorm, because here the wind was even more vicious, ripping against Cinn’s skin. His beanie flew off his head, to be caught by Elliot. Cinn stuffed it into his rucksack.

A colossalwhompreverberated through the air, followed by the sound of rushing water. A tidal wave rose out of the Thames, a wall of muddy grey froth rising as tall as the bridge’s central arch.

Cinn pressed a hand to his mouth to suppress a scream. “Holy shit!”

The wave crashed into the bridge with a thunderous roar, asmackagainst the tarmac. Shrieking was just audible over the din. Cinn’s heart lurched. The poor people still on the bridge—he couldn’t help imagining the crunch of their fragile bones as they were crushed against the parapet.

“Over there!”

Elliot motioned over to the right, where the bridge’s entrance was flanked by a lion statue. It towered above them, its silent, wise gaze cautioning them not to proceed. Elliot ushered them all into the statue’s weak shadow, then grabbed both Darcy’s and Cinn’s arms. “You two stay here and keep an eye out for the gendarmerie’s arrival, and keep back any idiot who’s running in the wrong direction.”

Julien and Elliot wore identical grimaces as they readied themselves, Elliot rolling on the heels of his feet.

A coldness flooded through Cinn, not just from the icy rain. A tightening chokehold of panic began to grip him. Horrific images of the two bloodied dead bodies from earlier, now wearing Julien and Elliot’s faces, flashed through his mind. This plan was a bad idea. He couldn’t lose them, not either of them, not when he’d just found them. It simply wasn’t an option. They should all stay together, right here, and await the assistance surely on the way.

Reaching an arm forward, he opened his mouth to tell Julien just that.

Nothing came out. He tried again. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, a lead weight anchored to the bottom.

His outstretched hand fell. His face slackened, as if drugged. He stumbled backwards, falling against the hard stone plinth, his skin scraping against it.

Three concerned faces swam before him.

WE SEE YOU, SHADOW

The layered, deep, booming voice came from directly inside his head.

A cold, creeping sensation began to crawl through his limbs. What started as pins and needles soon grew into a fiery, aching burn, numbing his muscles and seizing control of his body.

No, no, no!

His body’s instinctive reaction was to reach for Julien, but his arm remained petrified by his side.

He lurched sideways, stumbling through Elliot and Darcy. His vision blurred and darkened at the edges, a dark haze clouding his sight.

COME TO US, SHADOW

He felt his legs move, not by his own will, but pulled by a puppet master, propelling him forward, step by step, towards the bridge. His fading mind screamed in protest, but his body betrayed him, marching steadily into the heart of the storm.

ten

Julien

It took longer than Julien would care to admit to react to Cinn’s peculiar behaviour. When Cinn first stumbled back, he’d thought he was simply knocked back by the wind, or exhausted perhaps.

It was only when Cinn pushed past them, face expressionless, eyes lifeless, to walk jerkily towards Westminster Bridge that he finally realised something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

Julien screamed Cinn’s name—once, in confusion, and then again, a strangled, desperate sound, dampened by the pounding rain.

It was to no avail.

Cinn kept walking straight forward, magnetised to the damn bridge, where the umbraphages seemed to be expanding, their dark forms whipping this way and that.

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