Anne Ursu - The Shadow Thieves

Charlotte's eyes popped. "He did!" she said quickly. "But… we're still hungry. There wasn't a lot of food. He's a vegan."

"Oh, is he, now?" Mrs. Mielswetzski squinted at Charlotte. Was she finally, after all these years, beginning to catch on?

It was time to change the subject. Charlotte put down her burger and gazed at both of her parents earnestly "Listen, Mom? Dad? I'm really sorry for worrying you. And I know things are scary right now And Zee and I have talked about it"- she glanced at her cousin, who was staring at her with apprehension-"and we've decided we'll stay close to home the next few days. Until they figure out this flu. Okay?"

The faces of both senior Mielswetzskis softened at Charlotte's words, enough so she felt a little guilty for not being entirely truthful. But what was she supposed to say to them? There's a guy named Phil, and he wants Zee to enchant a shadow army to overthrow Hades, who really is King of the Dead, it's not just made up, and he's got some evil Footmen who are going to steal my shadow or kidnap me to get Zee down there, or something, we're not quite sure, but we know it's bad, so we're just going to stick around the house, okay? Home is, after all, where the heart is. And it's where the scary men aren't.

Meanwhile, Zee had that look on his face, the one that read, I really want to protest but I can't because I'm British, but she would have expected that. Zee wasn't a stay-put kind of guy. He was a talk softly (or not at all), run-out-and-solve-everything-himself-because-it-was-all-his-fault kind of guy. Well, not anymore, if Charlotte had anything to say about it. It was her job to watch him; Mr. Metos had said so. There was trouble, serious, apocalyptic trouble, and she was going to stay as far away as possible. Once upon a time there was a girl named Charlotte and she couldn't do anything right and she was a coward, and she was perfectly fine with that, frankly, because sometimes things are bigger than you. Going to France and living on her own and taking photography classes was one thing; going to the Underworld was something entirely different.

After dinner Charlotte and Zee sneaked upstairs, with Bartholomew sneaking right behind them. Charlotte led Zee (and the kitten) into her room and shut the door behind them-this was one conversation she did not want overheard; she couldn't very well look after her cousin if she was in a loony bin, could she?

Before sitting down, Charlotte turned on all the lights in her room, including the lamps, then she perched on her bed, picking up a bright pink, furry pillow and wrapping her arms around it. Zee sat on the foot of the bed, and Charlotte tossed him a pillow too, just in case. Bartholomew hopped up between them. The cat sat up, looking attentively at Charlotte.

The room felt so heavy, and Charlotte's lungs did not seem quite up to the task of taking in the air. Zee looked to be having trouble too; he kept inhaling loudly and forcefully, almost as if to demonstrate that he still could. They sat for a time, trying to relearn the art of breathing.

After a while Zee picked up the purple pillow and began to play with the fur. He sighed heavily "All I do is hide in the house," he said quietly.

Charlotte looked up. "Well…it's important!"

Zee shook his head. "There are men attacking my friends, and I hide in the house." He hit his hand against the pillow. Bartholomew started and turned her blue eyes on him watchfully.

"Well, look!" Charlotte exclaimed. "By hiding, you actually helped everyone. The Footmen left London because you weren't going anywhere, you weren't leading them to anyone."

Zee shrugged. "And they came right over here and began to attack everyone." Charlotte looked at the bed. "It's ironic, isn't it? They found me because Gran died. And she's the only one who'd know what to do."

"She knew about Greek stuff?"

"No, no… she just… I don't know. She knew things. She'd know what to do."

"Oh," Charlotte said, as if she understood, which she didn't. She casually reached over and began to scratch Bartholomew on the head. "So… what was that about your grandmother and Mr. Metos?"

"What? Oh!" Zee shook his head and looked away. "Nothing. It wasn't anything… just a guess…"

Charlotte eyed him. He started twisting the strands on the pillow. He really didn't seem to Charlotte to be the type to have a lot of hunches, but she didn't think she could get anything else out of him now "Anyway," she said brightly, "we have someone who knows what to do. We have Mr. Metos. He knows all about this. He's going to take care of it. There's nothing for us to do."

Zee raised his eyebrows. "How do we know?"

"Huh?"

"How do we know he's going to take care of it? How do we know we can trust Mr. Metos? How do we know what he says is true?"

Charlotte blinked rapidly. That hadn't occurred to her and never would have occurred to her. Of course Mr. Metos was telling the truth. Who on Earth would make that up? She realized, too, that it had never occurred to her before that a teacher might lie, and then she felt a bit like a dork. "Why wouldn't we think so?" she asked. "Everything he said made perfect sense. He knew about the shadows, he knew about the men…"

"Yes, but"-Zee leaned in and whispered-"doesn't it seem awfully convenient that he was right there? I mean, he saved us just in time. How is that possible?"

"Well…" Charlotte paused. "I think he was following us. Watching us. Protecting us."

"Do we know that? How do we know if he's supposed to protect us or hurt us? Gran didn't…" He stopped and shook his head. "We don't know"

Charlotte squinted. "So… you want to just go out there? And do… what?"

"I don't know," Zee said. "But even if Mr. Metos is right, how do we know we're safe inside? I mean, why couldn't they just come in here and…" He trailed off

"What?"

"And, you know, take you. Or your shadow. Or whatever."

Charlotte bit her lip. She hugged her pillow a little tighter. "I just think we should listen to Mr. Metos…" She could hear how she sounded. All her life she'd been casting herself as some kind of heroine who would comport herself well in a story, if only there were one to be had-but now that there was danger and excitement and adventure, she was staying home.

"They took my blood, Charlotte!" Zee thumped his fist again. "They nicked my blood while I was sleeping, and they're using it to enchant an army made of the stolen shadows of people that I led them to… my friends… making them all incredibly sick. I have to do something!" He shook his head and quieted a bit. "Can't you see that?" he added, staring at her imploringly.

Charlotte's mouth hung open. It was the first time she had ever seen Zee talk like that. She didn't even know he had it in him. Any other time she'd compliment him or make fun of him or something, but on this particular occasion all she wanted to do was curl up on her bed with Bartholomew and cry. She swallowed. The air seemed only to be getting heavier. She didn't have a thing to say to Zee, nothing he would listen to, anyway, and she supposed, if she really thought about it, she could, yes, she could see what he was saying. And if she were in his position, she might feel the same way. Except she wouldn't be brave enough to say it.

"So… what are you going to do?" she asked quietly.

"I don't know," Zee said. "I don't know"

"Look. Let's just wait a couple days for Mr. Metos, okay? Just for a couple of days. We'll stay inside, and then they can't take any more shadows. So no one else can get hurt. And you can, you know… make sure they don't come for me."

That would have been a low blow if Charlotte hadn't actually meant it. As much as she wanted to keep her word to Mr. Metos, and thus save the world, she also didn't like the idea of having those men come for her in the middle of the night, taking her shadow or her blood, or quite possibly her entire self. She could close her eyes and feel the ground opening beneath her, feel herself being grabbed and dragged down…