rustle.
“Get back!” I shout.
Tobin has no time to heed my warning. The Fade comes alive, shrieking, and the invisible force that’s been holding me still breaks. I drop to the floor, wondering if my ears have ruptured from the sound. To the side, I catch a glimpse of Anne-Marie and her friends with their hands over their ears, cringing together against the wall.
The Fade wedges a foot between itself and Tobin’s chest and sends him flying into the far wall; he lands in a heap, at least dazed, most likely unconscious.
The Fade collects itself, pouring up against gravity, until it’s balanced on whatever it has for feet. The wrappings that protected it from the light now hang limp from the struggle, an odd sort of decay—second skin falling off a body.
Staring up, I realize that the Fade is on its feet and I’m not. Anne-Marie and Silver are on the floor. Dante’s down. Even Tobin, with all that unstoppable rage—useless. It knocked us all out of the fight with barely an effort.
It turns its attention down, meeting my eyes with its silver ones. A connection sparks, raising bile in my throat.
This is familiar.
I’ve felt this . . . thought this . . . before.
Somewhere .
The headache I’ve been trying to suppress pokes at the back of my brain. The air charges again, and the Fade drops to a squat in front of me, with its hands rested on its knees, weight forward on its toes.
Blue into silver, then back into blue, the Fade’s eyes cycle as they sweep my face. I want to run, but there’s nowhere to go, and I can’t leave the others. I pray the moan from down the hall means Tobin is conscious again.
“Stay away,” I warn, hoping I sound braver than I am as I inch backward, into the opening of Tobin’s apartment, and reach for the only weapon I have. I cup my hand around the bottom corner of the door, swinging hard, and hitting the Fade square in the face.
Surprising tears flood those inhuman eyes as it howls again. The Fade’s chest heaves, struggling to find the air I knocked out of it. Fade aren’t supposed to breathe—there’s one of our assumptions blown.
This time, when it finds its feet, the filthy thing lunges. Wicked claws pop through shredded bandages to rip my shield out of my hands. The door hinges groan, but keep their settings.
“Get away from her!” Tobin, back on his feet, leaps at the creature, using his momentum to bring it down.
The others are standing now, made bolder by the knowledge that the Fade can feel pain. Dante tries to help, but Tobin and the Fade move too fast. The Fade’s whirling robes make it impossible to keep track of who’s where until one or the other of them lands a solid strike, knocking the other one clear.
And suddenly, Anne-Marie’s the hero of the night.
Out of nowhere, a shower of freezing water pours into the middle of the hall. She’s climbed up on Silver’s shoulders, banging away at a metal sprinkler with her shoe. Sprayers pop on in sequence down the full length of the corridor. Enraged, the Fade tries to find the source of the water as its coverings soak down heavy against its body, impeding its movements.
Tobin and Dante are waiting when their chance comes and knock the Fade off its feet. Anne-Marie grabs an arm; Silver takes one of its legs; I plant myself on its chest, pressing against its shoulders.
There are five of us holding on to this thing and it’s still moving. One of them, stronger than five of us—that’s one assumption proven.
I dig a knee harder into its side, and the Fade jerks. Our eyes connect again, causing a sensation like static. Not quite tickling, not quite pain. The Fade’s eyes widen, forcing the blue to recede to the far edges of its silver irises. Shock, if I had to guess.
Recognition .
It appears as a word, an impression, and a picture all at once in my thoughts. The cool weight of still water washes over my arms and legs, so real I have to glance down to make sure I’m still here. If I close my
“Get back!” I shout.
Tobin has no time to heed my warning. The Fade comes alive, shrieking, and the invisible force that’s been holding me still breaks. I drop to the floor, wondering if my ears have ruptured from the sound. To the side, I catch a glimpse of Anne-Marie and her friends with their hands over their ears, cringing together against the wall.
The Fade wedges a foot between itself and Tobin’s chest and sends him flying into the far wall; he lands in a heap, at least dazed, most likely unconscious.
The Fade collects itself, pouring up against gravity, until it’s balanced on whatever it has for feet. The wrappings that protected it from the light now hang limp from the struggle, an odd sort of decay—second skin falling off a body.
Staring up, I realize that the Fade is on its feet and I’m not. Anne-Marie and Silver are on the floor. Dante’s down. Even Tobin, with all that unstoppable rage—useless. It knocked us all out of the fight with barely an effort.
It turns its attention down, meeting my eyes with its silver ones. A connection sparks, raising bile in my throat.
This is familiar.
I’ve felt this . . . thought this . . . before.
Somewhere .
The headache I’ve been trying to suppress pokes at the back of my brain. The air charges again, and the Fade drops to a squat in front of me, with its hands rested on its knees, weight forward on its toes.
Blue into silver, then back into blue, the Fade’s eyes cycle as they sweep my face. I want to run, but there’s nowhere to go, and I can’t leave the others. I pray the moan from down the hall means Tobin is conscious again.
“Stay away,” I warn, hoping I sound braver than I am as I inch backward, into the opening of Tobin’s apartment, and reach for the only weapon I have. I cup my hand around the bottom corner of the door, swinging hard, and hitting the Fade square in the face.
Surprising tears flood those inhuman eyes as it howls again. The Fade’s chest heaves, struggling to find the air I knocked out of it. Fade aren’t supposed to breathe—there’s one of our assumptions blown.
This time, when it finds its feet, the filthy thing lunges. Wicked claws pop through shredded bandages to rip my shield out of my hands. The door hinges groan, but keep their settings.
“Get away from her!” Tobin, back on his feet, leaps at the creature, using his momentum to bring it down.
The others are standing now, made bolder by the knowledge that the Fade can feel pain. Dante tries to help, but Tobin and the Fade move too fast. The Fade’s whirling robes make it impossible to keep track of who’s where until one or the other of them lands a solid strike, knocking the other one clear.
And suddenly, Anne-Marie’s the hero of the night.
Out of nowhere, a shower of freezing water pours into the middle of the hall. She’s climbed up on Silver’s shoulders, banging away at a metal sprinkler with her shoe. Sprayers pop on in sequence down the full length of the corridor. Enraged, the Fade tries to find the source of the water as its coverings soak down heavy against its body, impeding its movements.
Tobin and Dante are waiting when their chance comes and knock the Fade off its feet. Anne-Marie grabs an arm; Silver takes one of its legs; I plant myself on its chest, pressing against its shoulders.
There are five of us holding on to this thing and it’s still moving. One of them, stronger than five of us—that’s one assumption proven.
I dig a knee harder into its side, and the Fade jerks. Our eyes connect again, causing a sensation like static. Not quite tickling, not quite pain. The Fade’s eyes widen, forcing the blue to recede to the far edges of its silver irises. Shock, if I had to guess.
Recognition .
It appears as a word, an impression, and a picture all at once in my thoughts. The cool weight of still water washes over my arms and legs, so real I have to glance down to make sure I’m still here. If I close my
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