Chapter 7: Shadow of Death

Vix remained where she was, frozen, with the ice-cold wall at her back. She could hear rough shouts coming from far away, mingling with the bells of the boats on the river. The night was growing old around her.

It terrified her all the more to think that only she had seen what had just happened. Nobody would be coming to Caine’s rescue. He was alone in that darkened warehouse. Alone with that dark shadow.

Cold sweat sprang up on Vix’s forehead. She could not bring herself to move and wipe it away. It trickled down her temples sluggishly.

What was happening in that warehouse? Vix allowed herself to lean forward fractionally. She could see nothing. There was no light, no sound, and no movement from within the grime-caked windows.

Where was Caine? Was he being further beaten? Tortured? Or was he dead already?

Vix edged out a little further. 'What does it matter to me?' she asked herself. 'What does he matter? I only met him once. I wasn’t responsible for what happened to him then. And I’m not responsible for what’s happening now. '

She crept closer, out of her hiding place. 'I should leave. The smartest thing to do would be to turn around now.'

The trouble was, her body was still moving, heedless of her thoughts.

Vix slunk noiselessly to the warehouse, stopping beneath one of its wide windows. She took a shaky breath. Then she peered inside.

The inside was nearly total darkness, lit only by the slashes of moonlight that filtered in through the cracked windows above. They dotted the ground with silver spotlights, with one massive moonbeam in the center, falling through the warehouse’s main window set high above the doors.

It took Vix several moments to adjust her eyes to the unusual light. The warehouse looked wholly abandoned. Broken wooden boxes were cluttered everywhere. Sawdust skittered across the floor as a cold wind swept inside.

Vix squinted her eyes to nearly slits, searching desperately for any sign of Caine. At last, she spotted him. He was leaning against the opposite wall, his lower half illuminated by moonlight. His chest and head were too deeply in shadow to see clearly.

He was not moving. Was he unconscious? Or was he...

A horrible, rending noise came suddenly from inside. It was the same bizarre sound Vix had heard before, a low screech of tortured metal. She ducked down immediately, her heart hammering like a drum in her throat.

She realized that there was someone speaking beneath that awful noise, just as she had suspected before. Vix was closer this time and could barely hear the voice melded with the metallic wailing.

“He ought to be returning again in a few hours,” the inhuman voice was saying. “Hard to say exactly when. I’ll remain here until then.”

It sounded like he was talking to someone. Surely not Caine? There was a long pause. Vix strained her ears for any sound.

“Yes...” the voice said at last, the metal screech resuming, making Vix’s skin crawl. “Yes, I understand. I’ll report again tomorrow.”

Vix, petrified, dared to raise one eye above the window frame to look inside. She was just in time to see a flutter of movement from inside the warehouse. If she had not chanced to see it, she would never have known there was someone there, hidden among the darkness.

The figure who had attacked Caine suddenly swept into view. Vix crouched further down instinctively. She had not heard even the faintest sound of footsteps, though the warehouse was now deathly silent. The shadowy man was buckling something to his belt. It was an odd-looking box, with a spool of wire coiled about the side.

The tall figure readjusted his cloak, hiding the contraption from view. Then he walked noiselessly up to where Caine was lying. He regarded the prone young man for a moment. Then he chuckled mirthlessly. “Well. Until next time, I suppose.”

There was no response from Caine.

Without warning, the dark figure spun around, his cloak fluttering up on his back like ravens’ wings, and made for the door. Vix felt a thrill of panic. He would see her. She quickly scurried away from the window and around to the far side of the warehouse.

She made it just in time. Less than a second after she slipped around the corner, the door of the warehouse groaned open.

Vix remained where she was, her breath coming in short, panicked wheezes. She waited, straining to hear any sound of the figure coming up the street. But she could hear nothing.

She remained frozen for another two minutes before she dared to move. At last, she peeled herself off the wall and peeked around the corner. The street in front of the warehouse was deserted. The dark-clothed man was gone.

Vix felt her legs nearly give out beneath her. She braced herself against the wall and at last allowed herself to wipe the sweat from her brow. Her skin was clammy to the touch. 'There’s something wrong with that man,' she thought to herself.

Carefully, she made her way back to the window. There was no change within the warehouse. Everything was totally still. Caine was still lying where the man had left him. He had not moved an inch.

A terrible foreboding seized Vix. She had to check on him. What if he was injured? If he could survive what had happened four days earlier, surely he could survive this.

But he didn’t survive four days ago. Vix was frightened by how sure she was. Every part of her rational mind was screaming at her not to enter that dimly lit room. She had a terrible feeling.

If she went through those warehouse doors, she would be stepping into an entirely new world. A terrifying world, where nothing she knew to be right and true had any bearing. Somehow, she knew it as sure as she knew her own name.

But she could not keep herself from creeping forward. Vix eased herself through the ajar door. She stood in the doorway, straining her eyes to penetrate the shadows everywhere. She had not forgotten how quiet that gods-forsaken shadow had been.

When at last she was sure she was alone, she continued forward. Her shoes echoed loudly out on the wooden floor. Clouds of dust rose like ghosts before her, only to fall again, unformed. She forced down a convulsive gulp of air and continued forward, teeth chattering.

A flurry of movement suddenly flew at her feet. Vix staggered back, curses forming soundlessly on her lips, terror freezing her. A small, brown rat came into a patch of moonlight. Then it went squeaking off into the darkness.

Vix massaged her heart until the shaking in her limbs subsided. Then she forced herself to move forward again. It seemed to take an eternity to cross that warehouse to Caine. But finally, the last remaining few feet disappeared. Vix slid to a crouch beside him.

“Caine?” she whispered in a cracking voice. “It’s me, it’s Vix. We have to get you out of here.” She shook his shoulder urgently. “We have to go, Caine!”

His head lolled out of the darkness and fell onto his shoulder. Vix gasped and staggered away. His neck was bent at a grotesque angle. He looked like an old doll who had been played with too roughly by a violent child. His eyes were staring sightlessly forward, looking just as they had four days ago.

Vix was as certain as she was the last time. He was dead.

A gasping, rattling sound came from behind her – the same skin-crawling, metallic voice she had heard before. “Don’t move, girl.”