Anne Ursu - The Shadow Thieves

Zee could barely breathe. His whole body was wracked with shivers. The shadows retreated, retracted, slid over to him calmly, and stood at attention again-waiting for their next target. Zee imagined them tunneling inside his own body, bursting out, sending chunks of Zee everywhere while he watched himself being eaten from the inside out. What on earth had he done?

Zee closed his eyes and tried to calm himself, then suddenly remembered Mew He hurried over to the corner where she was lying on her side whimpering. He crouched down next to her.

"Dear cat, are you all right?" he whispered gently.

He carefully ran his hands over her rib cage, her hips, her spine, her back legs, then her front. She let out a little yelp and hopped up. Her left front leg dangled in the air, crooked.

"Oh, Mew!" Zee said. "They broke your leg. Does it hurt too badly?" She cocked her head and looked at him sadly. "Oh, Mew…" He looked around the room, then grabbed a piece of tuxedo and gently wrapped up the kitten's leg. "You know," he murmured, scratching her chin, "you really are an extraordinary cat."

Then he gasped. Mew was covered in blood.

Oh, he realized slowly, it was his blood, from his arm. It wasn't gushing or anything-more of a steady dribble, really. Zee ripped off another strip of tuxedo, wrapped it around the wound, picked Mew up delicately, motioned to the shadows, and made his way out of the cave.

Zee had to hurry. Philonecron had left ages ago; it could already be too late. He'd stumbled at every turn since they'd come down to the Underworld. It would be just his luck to arrive at the Palace after Hades had been overthrown. Carrying Mew gently in his arms, Zee turned back into the passageway in the cliffs through which the Footman had led him before. The shadows floated behind him. He kept glancing back at them to make sure they were still in place, still contained-in a second they could leap at him and tear him to pieces.

But no, they were calm still-floating gently just above the ground. They were perfectly silent and utterly attentive to Zee. There was no indication that they had just ripped two creatures to bits. Zee felt like Dr. Frankenstein, only his monsters were truly capable of evil. They had no conscience, no heart, no remorse-and they were devastatingly fast, utterly malleable, and, it seemed, supremely powerful.

And they obeyed his every word.

Zee shivered again.

Mew was perched in his arms, peering ahead to the light at the end of the passageway. A few of the skeleton birds flew above them, and Mew stared up at them and hissed loudly. She was talking tough, but Zee could feel her trembling against his body, and her eyes were dull and sad.

"What am I going to do with you?" he whispered to her. "I can't take you to the Palace like this."

She turned and glared at him.

"You've got a broken leg, cat, and I have to hurry. We could be too late already. You can't limp to the Palace."

She narrowed her eyes and let out a small grunt.

"Of course, I need someone to protect me from these guys," he murmured, motioning behind him at his small shadow regiment. They still followed loyally, bodylike puffs of smoke moving silently through the air.

Finally they emerged from the cliff into a clearing, the same rocky clearing where they had first encountered

Philonecron, where everything had gone so terribly wrong. And that's when Zee remembered… Mr. Metos!

Zee whirled around and looked up at the cliff face. Mr. Metos was still there (where, exactly, would he have gone?), now hanging limply from his chains. Zee's heart froze. Was he still alive? Philonecron had said he had made Mr. Metos's liver immortal, but not the rest of him. Could he truly survive?

Zee heard singing in the distance and he shuddered. He couldn't leave Mr. Metos up there. He cast a glance toward the steaming river in the distance.

Beyond it lay the Land of the Dead, the Palace, Hades-and somewhere, Philonecron and the shadows. Had they reached the Palace? Had they reached Hades? How much time would it take for Zee to get across? Too much. There was no time, he knew that.

And he looked back up at Mr. Metos-bloody and limp. Somehow Grandmother Winter had known him, or known about him. She had been trying to tell Zee to find him, he knew that now Grandmother Winter had chosen Mr. Metos for a reason; she believed in him. And now Zee had to save him.

He turned to the shadows, who were standing in formation behind him. "Shadows! That man is chained to the cliff." Zee pointed toward Mr. Metos, his stomach twisting.

Was he condemning humanity to save one man? He had no choice. There are people in the world who have the constitution to sacrifice one for many. Zee was not one of those people. "He's been injured. I want you to unchain him and bring him down to me. Be very careful with him."

In a moment two of the shadows sprang from the group. Long arms and legs flickered out from their bodies like flames from a fire, and in a blink they were swimming up the rock face, their arms and legs treading air as they moved swiftly upward. Zee's stomach turned; he'd rather expected them to go the normal way, like walking up a path. They were inhuman, unreal; they were shadowy monsters who moved like night. Were their counterparts swarming up the walls of the Palace even now?

Soon- frighteningly soon- the two of them had reached Mr. Metos. Zee watched as, in perfect synchronicity, they each stretched an arm out into the iron manacles that held him. In the next moment the manacles exploded-bits of iron flew everywhere. Zee hugged himself.

And then Mr. Metos began to fall. A gargled scream escaped from Zee's throat as he watched the man plunge toward the ground. Zee tried to yell something to the shadows-anything-but his words choked in his mouth. Mr. Metos's arms went out into the air, thrashing, a drowning man trying desperately to swim in sky.

It was as though the Footmen were there, slowing time down-but they were not; there was only a helpless Zee, a flailing, plummeting Mr. Metos, and the murderous shadows.

Zee closed his eyes and clutched Mew to him, waiting to hear the sickly thump of man against ground.

But the sound never came. His eyes opened and he saw a thicket of shadows in front of him, arms raised into the sky, holding Mr. Metos up in the air as if he were a virgin to be sacrificed. The shadows walked Mr. Metos over to Zee and deposited him gently at his feet, then stood at attention again. Mew let out a squeak, burst out of Zee's arms, and limped her way toward Mr. Metos, while aftershocks of horror rippled through Zee's body.

Mr. Metos lay on the ground, clutching his stomach, grimacing at the shadows, and muttering to himself. Zee sprang over to him.

"Mr. Metos, are you all right?"

Mr. Metos looked at Zee darkly and shook his head. "Zachary, you fool! There was no time for this. You should have -" Suddenly he stopped talking; Mew had started honking her head lightly against Mr. Metos's arm, and he was staring at her, wide eyed. "Is that a cat?"

"Yes," Zee said. "It's Charlotte's cat…" He paused, then asked carefully, "You don't… know her, do you?" If she were some sort of Greek somebody, it would explain a lot.

But Mr. Metos just looked at Zee oddly. "The cat? No!" He shook his head quickly. "What is she doing down here?"

Zee shrugged. "Saving us?"

Mr. Metos tried to prop himself up and then winced abruptly. He sighed and laid his head back. "I must admit, Zachary," he said softly, "I do appreciate your getting me down…"

Zee regarded Mr. Metos. His eyes had lost their sharpness, his skin was deathly pale, and his mouth was set with strain. Blood slowly seeped from his stomach.

"Here," Zee said, taking off his T-shirt. "Use this." He placed the shirt against Mr. Metos's stomach, and Mr. Metos nodded and pressed his hand lightly against the shirt. "Mr. Metos, what happened?"