Элисон Ноэль - Shadowland

“But aren’t those positions usually reserved for law students?” I ask, sure I’m pathetically underqualified to fill those particular shoes.

But she just shakes her head. “It’s not that type of internship. This is more of a filing and phone answering assignment. And there’s really no money in it either, though you will get school credit and a small end of the season bonus. I just thought it might do you some good. Not to mention how it will really beef up those college applications of yours.”

College. Yet another thing I used to obsess about but not anymore. I mean, what possible use could I have for all of those classes and professors when all I have to do is place my hand on a book or peek inside my teacher’s head to know all the answers?

“I’d hate for anyone else to get in there when I know you’re just perfect for the job.”

I stare at her, unsure what to say.

“It’s good experience for a person your age,” she adds, her indignant tone a result of my silence. “It’s recommended in all the books. They say it builds character, commitment, and the discipline to show up on time and get the job done.”

Great . So I have Dr . Phil to thank for ruining my summer. Completely annoyed with Sabine until I remember how she was when I first got here—calm, relaxed, and completely laid back, allowing me all the space and freedom I needed. It’s my fault she changed. My suspension, my refusal to ingest anything other than the red elixir, and all the drama with Damen is what sent her over the edge. And this is where it led—to the dreaded summer internship she’s bent on securing for me.

But no way can I spend the summer juggling a mountain of files and incessantly ringing phones when I’m going to need all the free time I can get to find an antidote for Damen. And working in Sabine’s office, with her and her colleagues snooping over my shoulder, just will not do.

Though it’s not like I can say that outright. It’ll set off her alarms. I need to play it cool, let her know that while I’ve nothing against discipline and character building, I prefer to tackle those things on my own.

“I’m totally cool with working,” I say, trying not to press my lips together, fidget, or break eye contact, three definite giveaways that I’m not being entirely honest. “But since you do so much for me already, I’d feel a lot better if I could find my own job. I mean, I’m just not sure I’m cut out for office work, so maybe I could look around a little. See what my options are. I’ll even pitch in with the mortgage and food. It’s the least I can do.”

“What food?” She laughs, shaking her head. “You barely eat! Besides, I don’t want your money, Ever. Though I will help you establish a line of credit if you’d like.”

“Sure.” I shrug, forcing an enthusiasm I don’t really feel since I’ve absolutely no need for such conventional things. “That would be great!” I add, knowing that the longer I can keep her mind off this internship, the better for me.

“Okay then.” She drums her fingers against the doorjamb as she finalizes her plan. “You’ve got one week to find something on your own.”

I gulp, trying to keep the eye bugging to a minimum. One week? What kind of a head start is that when I don’t even know where to begin? I’ve never had a job before. Is it possible to just manifest one?

“I know it’s not much time,” she says, reading my face. “But I’d hate for them to fill the position when I know you’d be perfect.”

She heads into the hall and closes the door between us, leaving me sideswiped, dumbstruck, staring at the flickering remnants of her orangey aura, her magnetic energy field, hovering insistently in the space where she stood. Thinking how ironic it is that I was just making fun of Damen for assuming he could land a job without any experience only to find myself facing the same exact fate.

CHAPTER 11

I toss and turn all night. Bed a tangled mess of sweat-dampened pillows and blankets, body and mind exhausted by dreams. Waking briefly, gasping for air, only to be pulled under again, returning to the very same place I fought to escape.

And the only reason I want it to stop is because Riley is there. Laughing happily as she grabs hold of my hand, taking me on a tour of a very strange land. But even though I skip right alongside her, pretending to enjoy the trip too, the moment she turns her back, I scramble for the surface, eager to remove myself from this scene.

Because the truth is, it’s not really Riley. Riley is gone. Having crossed the bridge at my urging, moving on to some unknown place. And even though she keeps yanking me back, yelling at me to pay attention, to just trust her and stop running—I refuse to obey. Sure that it’s some kind of punishment for harming Damen, sending Drina to the Shadowland, and putting everything I care about at risk—allowing my subconscious to produce these guilt-induced images, so sugar-coated with happiness, there’s no way they’re real.

But this last time, just as I’m about to run, Riley appears right before me, blocking my exit, and yelling at me to stay put. Standing before a large stage and slowly drawing the drapes, revealing a tall, narrow, rectangular cube—like a prison of glass—containing a desperate and struggling Damen inside.

I rush to his aid as Riley looks on, pleading with him to hang in there while I help him break free. But he can’t even hear me. Can’t even see me. Just continues to fight until so overcome with exhaustion, with the absolute futility, he closes his eyes and fades straight into the abyss.

The Shadowland.

The home for lost souls.

I bolt from my bed, body shaking, chilled, drenched with sweat, standing in the center of my room with a pillow clutched to my chest. Overcome not only by the feeling of utter defeat, but by the horrible message my imagined sister has sent—telling me that no matter how hard I try, I can’t save my soul mate from me.

I run for my closet, changing into some clothes before grabbing some sneakers and heading for the garage. Knowing it’s too early to go to school, too early to go anywhere. But I refuse to give up. Refuse to believe in nightmares. I have to start somewhere. Have to use what I got.

But just as I’m about to climb into my car, I think better. Realizing the whole process of opening the garage door and starting the engine will risk waking Sabine. And even though I can easily step outside and manifest another car, bike, Vespa, or whatever else I might want, I decide to try running instead.

I’ve never been much of a runner. Far more used to dragging my feet through every forced lap in P.E. than striving for any sort of personal best. But that was before I became immortal. Before I was gifted with incredible speed. A speed I haven’t even begun to test the limits of, since the last time I ran was the first time I realized I even had the potential. But now that I’m faced with the perfect opportunity to see just how far and fast I can go before stopping, dropping, or crumbling to the ground with a debilitating case of side cramps, I can’t wait to try it out.

I slip out the side door and head for the street. At first thinking I should warm up, start off in a nice slow jog before hitting the asphalt at full throttle. But no sooner have I started than a major surge of adrenaline kicks in, coursing through my body like the highest-grade rocket fuel. And the next thing I know, it’s full speed ahead. Running so fast my neighbor’s houses are reduced to a visual blur of stucco and stone. Jumping fallen trash cans and dodging poorly parked cars, as I race from street to street with the grace and agility of a jungle cat. Having virtually no awareness of my legs or my feet, just trusting they won’t fail me. That they’ll get me to my destination in miraculous time.