Page 55 of The Light Within

She pointed at Cinn’s shin, shredded from the glass. Blood pooled out from the wounds, staining the blue denim of his jeans. Julien’s thigh was a similar story. Elliot himself must have been covered in bruises—he felt like he’d been thrown down ten flights of stairs. Every muscle ached, a deep throbbing pain that pulsed in time with his heartbeat, but there was no time to think about himself when his friends’ unconscious bodies were bleeding. Sirens sounded, growing increasingly louder.

“A couple of gendarmes have arrived, but they’re outnumbered by paramedics. We can’t let them have these two like this.”

“What?” Elliot blinked at her, exhausted mind running on empty fumes.

“We can’t have them interfering with their bodies if they’re in the shadowrealm,” she snapped at him. “We need to move them out of the way, then see to their wounds.”

Elliot dragged himself to his feet.

Darcy looked between the heavy bodies and Elliot. “Do you need me to—”

“No.”

For a delusional second, Elliot considered lifting each of them over a shoulder to carry them both at once, then laughed at himself. He picked up Cinn first. He looked heavier—best to get the worst of it over with.

Elliot heaved Cinn’s limp body up, staggering under the weight as he adjusted his grip to place him in a fireman’s carry. He was even heavier than expected, his solid frame dead weight in Elliot’s arms. Every tired muscle screamed in protest, but he ignored them, gritting his teeth and marching down Westminster Bridge.

The rain-soaked pavement slick beneath his boots, Elliot splashed in puddles as he pushed forward. Reaching the lion statue, he ducked around it, out of sight from the prying eyes of the paramedics. Two ambulances had pulled up near the bridge, sirens casting blue light thatflickered across the wet streets like flashes of lightning. The paramedics moved swiftly, urgent shouts cutting through the already chaotic scene.

Ever so gently, he lowered Cinn down to the ground, placing him on his side, and trying not to look at his bleeding leg wound. Then, he turned, jogging all the way back to Julien.

Darcy helped lift Julien off the ground this time. It was a good thing she did—Elliot was quickly running out of emergency energy reserves. He threw Julien over his shoulder.

“I’ll run ahead to see what I can find.” Darcy sprinted off before Elliot could agree.

“Come on then,” he murmured to Julien. The bridge stretched out ahead like a marathon, the towering statue of the lion his finish line.

As he dragged one foot in front of another, Elliot’s gaze fell on Julien’s expressionless face. The usual spark in his eyes, that quick wit always dancing at the corners of his lips—gone. His face was eerily still, a mask devoid of life, pale beneath the wet strands of blond hair plastered to his skin. Panic clawed its way into Elliot’s chest, his heart pounding as blood rushed through his ears.

“Don’t you dare,” he whispered, voice tight with fear. “You need to come back, you hear me?”

Julien’s body remained limp, unresponsive, the weight of it pressing heavier on Elliot’s mind than his shoulders.

Ten years. That’s how long it had been since that life-changing moment when he’d met Julien, on the first day of summer camp. Yet, he could remember it like it was yesterday—the long bus journey from Barcelona airport.

Elliot hadn’t wanted to be sent away at the age of fourteen to spend his summer in Europe, to hone his channelling skills. Yet there he was, last to arrive at the designated bus stop—late, after a slight detour to the shop to buy some candy. He’d spent too long choosing between the fruity gummies or chocolate-covered peanuts. After all, it was incredibly important thathe got this decision right—how would he possibly make friends if he couldn’t bribe them?

When he’d finally paid using strange coins, he sprinted to the bus, where the angry face of the bus driver greeted him as he ticked Elliot off on his clipboard. Elliot swallowed down a thick lump in his throat, cursing his parents once again for forcing him to travel alone to another continent, sending him away for an entire month of his summer.

The driver stowed his luggage, shouting at him in Spanish and gesturing to the door.

Elliot only managed to take three shaky steps down the aisle of the bus before the driver accelerated, sending Elliot flying forward onto his knees.

The thirty-or-so passengers, all around his age, burst into raucous laughter that echoed off the walls of the bus, filling the tight space with a wave of mocking glee. Elliot’s cheeks burned with embarrassment as he scrambled to his feet, trying to gather what little dignity he had left. The sound felt like it went on forever, each snicker and chuckle twisting his stomach in knots.

Before Elliot could fully right himself, a pale arm shot out from one of the seats and yanked him sideways. He stumbled into the empty spot, heart still racing. Glancing over, he found a boy with tousled blond hair and a lazy smirk, his grey eyes gleaming with something like amusement, but not mockery. An open sketchpad lay on his lap, but the boy snapped it shut.

“Do you want to be friends?” the boy asked, his English thickly accented.

Elliot stared at him, blinking rapidly. How was this his luck? He hadn’t even brought the fruit gummies out of his pocket yet!

“Well?” the boy asked impatiently. He wasn’t smiling. “I’m only going to make you this offer once. It’s now, or don’t bother talking to me again.”

Realising his mouth hung open, Elliot snapped it shut, but not before a nervous laugh slipped out. He studied the odd boy—the slight tremor in his hands as they rested on the sketchpad, the way his foot tapped anxiously against thefloor. Beneath the bravado, there was a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes that mirrored Elliot’s own fears.

Elliot held out his hand.

The boy eyed it. “Do you promise to stick with me?” It sounded more like a threat than an offer.

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