Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 156945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 785(@200wpm)___ 628(@250wpm)___ 523(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 785(@200wpm)___ 628(@250wpm)___ 523(@300wpm)
A whimper woke him up after what felt like only a couple of minutes, but when Gray glanced at the clock, it showed that he’d slept until eleven. For a moment, he wasn’t sure what the sound was, but then he heard it again and looked its way. A grunt escaped his lips at the sight of the man—creature sitting by the radiator in a pile of comforters, covering his head with a blanket and staring at Gray in that needy way a dog might. While the whinging was a nuisance, at least it seemed that Gray managed to discourage Shadow from speaking.
Shadow whined again, pulling more of the blanket over his head. In the light of day, obviously in discomfort, he appeared pathetic rather than intimidating, but Gray wouldn’t underestimate his potential to do damage. All night, Gray had feared that the immaterial arms hiding somewhere inside Shadow’s body would sneak into his bed. They were there for Shadow to call upon and would remain an invisible threat.
But as much fear as they caused deep in Gray’s heart, he needed to address whatever was happening, so he sat up in bed and glared at the beast, even though seeing him first thing in the morning was the last thing Gray wanted.
“Stop whinging.”
Shadow hid his whole face under the blanket so that only some of his long black hair remained visible. Instead of shutting up though, he pointed a blanket-covered hand to the window and made a needy complaint with a high pitched noise.
So even when not talking, he’d still be a nuisance. And he looked ridiculous. Like Mike when he’d dressed up as a ghost one Halloween.
“What? You want to go outside?” Gray asked and reached for the glass of water he’d left on his bedside table. He drank all of it, just like he did every morning. Rituals were what often kept his life from falling apart, an element of stability in a world without the balance of the other half of his soul.
Shadow violently shook his head and crawled away from the sunshine, but when the chain attached to his cuff rattled against the radiator, he pulled on it repeatedly, lamenting without words. He pointed at the window again, and attempted to move away from it once more.
Into the last bit of shadow he could reach.
Understanding penetrated Gray’s mind like water soaking into cloth. “Reach out your hand so that the sun can touch it,” he said, with an odd sense of giddiness taking root in his chest.
Shadow shook his head so violently the blanket slid off partially, and now one red eye shone back at Gray from under the mass of hair. The strands had a bit of curl to them, which only made it seem messier after the night he’d spent by the radiator.
Gray stood, staring him down as he walked into the rays of sunshine that were bright enough to blind him. The memory of Shadow’s weight on top of him, and the sense of helplessness in the face of violence washed over him like a cold shower. He wanted the creature to suffer. “Do it.”
It wasn’t just about revenge. If Shadow listened to him regardless of discomfort, it would mean that yesterday’s show of force had worked. If this thing was to stay, Gray had to be able to control him.
Shadow whined, hesitating for a few more seconds, but eventually held out his pale arm. It didn’t burn, didn’t go up in smoke, but the muscle twitched, fingers shivered. It didn’t take a scientist to see Shadow hated being touched by the sun.
Gray wasn’t entirely proud of the satisfaction he felt witnessing Shadow’s pain, but when he examined the blot of light cast on the floor, his smile faltered when he realized the outstretched hand cast no shadow. And neither did he—as if the magic behind Shadow’s existence bent the law of physics. In the bright sun that emulated the image of any other object in its way, Gray was a lone figure that ended and began with flesh. It was unnerving, but he refused to worry about the implications of not having a shadow or about it being a characteristic only he and the creature shared in the whole wide world.
With a low sigh, he walked over to his closet, intending to search for the old blackout curtains. He’d stopped using them when he’d decided to wake up the natural way—with the sun—but he didn’t remember ever getting rid of them. As much as he wanted Shadow to pay for what he’d done last night, it wouldn’t be practical for him to constantly crawl in the shadows during the day.
“It’s fine. I’ll get you something.”
Shadow pulled his hand back under the blanket, reminding Gray of a cockroach running away when it sensed movement.