Erin Kellison - Shadow Bound

“No, you can’t come in,” Melanie snapped. “I said she’s not here.”

A loud crack from the front of the apartment jerked Talia’s heart in her chest. She dropped her notepad and darted down the hall.

The front door stood gaping. Melanie lay twisted on the floor in the center of the room, pushing herself up to a pained crawl. The man and woman were just stepping inside the apartment. He kicked the door closed and then leaned up against it, while she scanned the room, lips pressed into an unfriendly smile.

Talia went cold.

Melanie looked up at her from the floor. “They want to see Talia.”

“She’s not here,” Talia echoed. The wide, frightened look in Melanie’s usually confident eyes made Talia both enor-mously grateful and nauseated. Her roommate could have just as easily pointed a finger and been done with this. But then again, Melanie didn’t let anyone bully her.

Melanie stood, eyes narrowing as her spine straightened again.

Talia caught the question in her roommate’s expression— You know them? —and returned a shallow shake, No.

Talia had no idea who these people were. They were young, probably midtwenties. The woman was tall and sleek, with rich, dark hair and ample breasts, but an unfortunate lantern jaw. The guy, leaning against the door, was short and square, his shape accentuated by pleated dress slacks and a tucked polo. He sported an outdated side part like a news anchor from the eighties. The two were incongruous, unlikely partners, but for the similar flatness of their eyes and unforgiving lines of their mouths.

“We can wait,” the woman said, seeming at her leisure in their apartment.

Goose bumps spread across Talia’s scalp and pricked down her spine. She swallowed. “Why do you want her anyway?”

“We’re her ride. She has a date tonight,” she said.

Talia had no dates. Not now, not ever. Guys picked up on her weirdness instantly and kept away. And the thought of getting physical, of letting someone touch her… No. Her only companionship was books.

The tall, slick woman stepped closer, leaning into her to closely inspect Talia’s features before moving away. The smell coming from her was beyond foul. The assessment in the woman’s eyes was calculating, cruel, and searching.

Instinctively, Talia backed into the shadows. The grays slipped around her body like silk veils, cold but always comforting. The room darkened. Others might have passed it off as a trick of light or a dimming bulb, but she knew better. Enough to try to control her fear and push the gathering shadows back. It had been a long time since she’d lost control. With effort, she shrugged off the dark again.

The best place to hide was always in plain sight.

“I think you have the wrong person,” Melanie said. “I’m her roommate, and I know for a fact that she is not dating anyone right now.”

“Talia O’Brien, age twenty-six. PhD in anthropology. Her mother was Kathleen O’Brien, died at Talia’s birth from complications due to a congenital heart defect. Raised by her aunt Margaret, also deceased,” the tall man recited.

Guilt and regret stirred to life within Talia over her mother, mixing with the loss of Aunt Maggie. Aunt Maggie who had died in the car accident while Talia crept unwillingly back to life and health, alone in the world at fifteen.

The band’s noise spiraled up again to deafening.

For the memory of Aunt Maggie, Talia swallowed her fear and forced her voice over the music. “Is this a joke? ’Cause it’s not funny.”

The tall woman smiled over her shoulder. “No joke.” She lifted a plucked brow. “You know, you have very unusual eyes.”

Talia felt speared like an insect under examination. She hated when people remarked on her appearance, her eyes in particular. Exotic, Aunt Maggie had said once. But exotic was too generous. Strange would be more accurate. They tipped up a little too much at the outside. And the color had a habit of shifting with her moods. Right now they’d be as dark as her shadow.

The woman gave her a raking once-over. “What did you say your name was?”

I didn’t.

In her peripheral vision, Talia saw Mel reach down to the phone. “I’ve had enough of this,” she bit out loudly. “If this is some kind of shitty practical joke…”

Talia knew it wasn’t. This was her deepest fear realized. These horrible people knew she was different, and they were going to ruin everything. She would never find a place to belong. Not at a university. Not anywhere. Not even when all she wanted to do was bury her nose in books and bother no one.

Talia saw Melanie’s finger press 9-1-1. Help seemed ridiculous. No screaming sirens could reach them in time. Anything beyond the apartment door was worlds too far away.

In a single blink, the square man was at Mel’s side. He knocked the phone out of her hand, caught the receiver, and replaced it on the cradle. He twitched his other hand out and caught Melanie around her neck.

His mouth formed the words, “None of that,” though his voice was buried in noise.

Melanie kicked out and thrashed with her arms as her face reddened.

Oh, no. Oh, please… Talia started forward, pushing against the rise in the band’s rock.

“Let her go. I’m Talia O’Brien,” she yelled, clasping the man’s wrist to pull it away from Melanie’s throat. Sickness inundated her, intense and thick, as if her belly were filling up with hot tar. He felt rank, malevolent, and vicious.

Talia craned her head back to the man’s partner. “Tell him to stop.”

The woman smiled with edged condescension. “Ms. O’Brien. It’s my honor to serve you. My master sends his regards and looks forward to meeting you in person.” She turned to her companion. “Finish that one quickly, Grady. We need to get going.”

Grady lifted Melanie off the floor.

“Stop it!” The room was getting darker, but Talia couldn’t help it. “Put her down!” Melanie was almost purple. “Please let her go. I’ll do whatever you want.”

“You’ll do that anyway,” the woman answered. “And Grady’s hungry. If he doesn’t eat now, he’ll be pestering me all the way back to stop for a little human takeout. And I can’t have that.”

Melanie’s eyes flickered back in her head like some kind of waking REM.

Talia looped her arms over Grady’s outstretched one and put her weight into pulling them both down. He would not budge. He smiled at her efforts. She kicked at him. He seemed flesh enough, but he reacted like stone.

The woman grabbed Talia’s shoulder and pulled her away with such unexpected strength that Talia stumbled backward.

“You can’t hurt him,” the woman said, “it’s useless to try.”

Talia swiped at the tears of frustration blurring her vision. Please let this be a nightmare.

Then Grady opened his mouth. Opened and opened beyond anything human. He bared his teeth, all sharply pointed and strangely extended, and pulled Melanie toward him. Mouth clamped over mouth.

Talia froze midbreath in horror. She felt a tug in her gut. A tug from a well of life and soul. Not hers, still seated snugly in her body. But an echo of Melanie’s self being ripped out, fed upon in a desecration of spirit that scored Talia’s mind and heart.

Utter blackness fell as Talia screamed.

The dark didn’t hide anything from her. It never had. Shadows only deepened color, and textures took on added dimension. Total darkness revealed a realm of sensation as seductive and terrifying as any fertile imagination could conjure.

So she witnessed it all.

Her scream was edged with a strange power, burning up her throat to rend the world. It ripped the dark shadows of her shelter, shredding the layers of her protection into wisps of smoke that quivered as if harried by turbulent, angry wind. The shape that came out of the wind, emerging from the center of the hell storm, was darkness incarnate, monstrous eyes glowing with purpose. He could only be Death, the heartless devil who’d taken both her mother and her aunt. He was shaped like a man, wrapped in an absence of light, and therefore readily visible to her. He grasped a glittering arched blade. Already twisting in the air, the scythe came down.