Beyond the Shadows: Second Edition (The Shadow Series Book 1) Page 2

  I clutched at my face. Could I be going insane? My hands slipped down to my chin as I stared blankly out of foggy eyes. The minutes were ticking by far too quickly. Although completely exhausted and still trembling, sleep was the last thing I wanted. It didn’t matter that I could barely hold my head up—how would I ever sleep again?

  During the walk to work, I couldn’t help looking at all the shadows. I was being completely paranoid, jumping and skipping, trying to escape the silhouette that was always one step behind me. But no matter how fast I moved, I could never outrun it. It would always be there, unless I hid in complete darkness.

  The receptionist gave me a strange look as she took in my tired and wounded face. “Hi, Selena.”

  I mumbled a greeting and raced to my office hoping to avoid everyone else. The blinds were already up, sun shining across the desk once again. My shadow was waiting there as well, casting darkness over the files resting next to the computer. Breath shuddered out of my nose as I tried to lean away from it. Determined, I shook my head and sat down, opening the first report and concentrating on the work.

  By lunchtime I felt better. Coffee helped to shake fatigue and the work served as a distraction. I pulled my arm away from the keyboard and noticed the silhouette following beneath. The image darkened. I blinked to get a clear look and jumped back as it shifted. In an instant, heaviness washed over my skin, fingers instantly turning numb. I screamed and shook my hand, accidentally pushing away from the desk. The chair toppled and the numbness spread up to my shoulder. I launched at the window and grabbed the blind, pulling it down as I fell.

  “Selena?” Natasha appeared in the doorway. “What’s going on?”

  The numb feeling disappeared, and I struggled to catch enough air.

  She kneeled down. “Oh my God, you’re shaking."

  I tried to hold still, but the fear was too powerful to overcome quickly.

  “What’s wrong? Are you sick?” When I didn’t answer, her eyes shot to the door. “I’m going to get help.”

  “No.” I grabbed her arm. If she called someone, I would have to explain what had happened, and there was no way anyone would believe it. I didn’t believe it.

  “Selena, I’m really worried. You don’t look well.”

  “No. No, I’m okay.” I forced myself to calm down. “I’m okay. Please.”

  She helped me into the chair.

  “I’m just really tired.” I accepted a glass of water. “I haven’t slept much lately. I need rest, that’s all.”

  “I heard you scream.”

  I hesitated. “I think I might have fallen asleep for a second.” She examined me carefully before I continued, “I’ve been having nightmares.”

  “You haven’t been yourself lately. What’s going on?”

  I struggled to swallow my emotion, desperate to maintain control, at least while I was at work.

  “I think you should go home,” she said.

  “No.” It was the middle of the day, the sun was high, and the shadows would be everywhere.

  “Selena,” she said seriously.

  “I can’t, Natasha.”

  “You need to rest. You're obviously pushing yourself too hard. I insist on taking you home.”

  I watched helplessly as she grabbed my bag and hooked it over her shoulder. She crossed her arms, daring me to challenge her. Despite the fear of being alone, I didn't have the strength to argue. At least if I fell through my shadow again, she might be able to help.

  In the taxi, I shied away from the window, trying to avoid the sunlight and shadows. We made it home without incident and Natasha watched in bemusement as I rushed around the apartment, closing blinds and making sure no lights could cause a shadow.

  She stood back, sighing as I finally settled on the couch. “What happened to your cheek?”

  I'd forgotten the cut. “A branch hit me in the face.”

  “You walked into a tree?” She grinned.

  An exhausted laugh escaped. “Something like that.”

  Natasha’s smile faded. “Whatever this is about, Selena, you can tell me.”

  My eyes closed involuntarily; I wished I could tell her the truth.

  “Does this have anything to do with that man in the restaurant?”

  I straightened, struggling to recall telling her about his warning.

  “I saw you watching the shadows. I know that’s what he told you to do, but there’s no credibility in his warning. I mean it’s ridiculous.” She paused. “But I know it gave you a bit of a scare, perhaps that’s what's causing these nightmares.”

  Natasha had no idea how right she was. Since the encounter under the bridge, I'd been trying to avoid thinking about the man from the restaurant—afraid that he might be the only person who could explain this phenomenon. The memory of him in the forest made my throat tighten. He'd thrown me with such force; I'd been sure he intended to hurt me, but perhaps he was sending me back to this world. Maybe he was trying to help. I couldn’t imagine facing him again, but I had no one else to go to. He knew something about this—one way or another I needed to find him.

  Chapter Three

  Natasha spent the night. I'd tried to get rid of her, but she wouldn't budge. Perhaps it was a good thing—it was the best sleep I'd had all week. She threw the curtains open in the morning and light flooded the couch where I lay. I jumped up, breath rapid as my shadow stretched on the floor.

  "I was going to say you looked better," Natasha said, as she slowly pulled the curtain back into place and watched as I calmed down. "Perhaps not, but ... at least it's Saturday!"

  Natasha snuggled into the couch, obviously not planning to leave anytime soon. I switched the TV on and made tea before settling in the darkest corner of the room.

  The shadows weren't far from my mind. I’d never had to face anything so terrifying before and had no idea how to deal with it. No doubt I would find myself back in the forest soon and no matter how far I had run in that strange place, I'd never seen anything but trees. There was no sign of civilisation and the only people I’d come across had those unusual grey eyes. I wasn’t even sure if the man from the restaurant had looked the same. What if I went to him for help and he turned out to be one of them? But who else could I turn to?

  Natasha stayed most of the day, and when she finally left, I hurried around the apartment shutting the rest of the curtains. I couldn't live like this. I'd be locked in an asylum before the year was up. I paused in the kitchen, fingers drumming on the counter. I had to find the man from the restaurant, one way or another. I had no idea what his name was, but I knew the restaurant and the date when I'd seen him. My stomach twisted into knots; what was the best angle?

  I went upstairs to the bathroom and stared into the mirror for a long time. The face looking back was barely recognisable; eyes dark and puffy, the scratches across my cheek more noticeable now they’d begun to scab over. If I went to the restaurant in this state and asked for the contact who made his booking, they would refuse for confidentiality reasons. There had to be another way.

  I spent a long time trying to make myself look normal and dressed appropriately for a Saturday night. It wasn't a perfect disguise, but it was the best I could do given my current state.

  Soon it would be dusk; the safest time to travel. The sun wasn’t strong enough to create a shadow, and the streetlights hadn’t come on yet. I took a breath; dusk would at least get me there safely, the trip home I’d have to worry about later.

  The woman who greeted me at the restaurant had a sour face. She scowled when I requested a table for one, and suddenly it seemed stupid to think she might be willing to help. I followed her to a table and watched helplessly as she walked away.

  Being in the dining area brought back memories of that night. I looked across at the table where he’d been sitting. It was empty now, but I could see the shadows of people sitting nearby. I checked nervously over my shoulder, catching my own shadow on the wall. For a second, I lost my nerve and wanted to flee, but
a friendly waitress came to offer a drink. I swallowed my fear and worked hard to appear calm while making polite conversation.

  She told me she’d been working there for years which made her the perfect target. If she knew her peers well, she would be at less risk of being in trouble for giving away personal details. My face turned pink as I mentally prepared.

  She set cutlery on the table and turned to walk away.

  “I have a bit of an unusual request,” I managed, and when she smiled, I found the courage to say more. “I was here a few weeks ago with my family and met a man on the balcony. He didn’t tell me his name, but we spoke for a while, and I left without asking for his number.”

  She raised her eyebrows before she grinned knowingly. I was already mortified, but there was no going back. “The thing is, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him and I’m really kicking myself for not making a move. I know it’s a long shot, but I was hoping you could give me a number if I told you which table he sat at.”

  “That’s really sweet.” The girl smiled. “Where was he sitting?”

  I pointed to the table and told her the date, then waited as she walked toward the door. She spoke briefly with the other woman before she flicked through the bookings.

  She came back and placed a piece of paper on the table.

  “The name is Shaw, and they left a home number. My hot tip; when a table is booked under a surname the guests are often relatives.” She started to walk away then paused. “If it goes well, you should bring him back here for a date.”

  “Thanks.” I finished my drink and left before she could come back to take my meal order. It was already dark, and I was anxious to make it back home safely. It wasn’t a long walk, but I flagged a taxi anyway. At least, in a car, the light passed quickly.

  At home I sat in almost complete darkness, covering the lamp with a sheet to dim the light. I stared at the paper with the number on it. Collecting it was one thing but another thing entirely to consider ringing it. Anyone could answer. It could even be his wife, then what would I say? But if I didn’t find him what would happen to me? I traced a finger across the scratch on my cheek. My body still ached, my head throbbed with tiredness, and I was afraid of lights. Sooner or later the shadows would take me again and perhaps, this time, one of the grey-eyed men would catch me. Even though I felt sick with nerves, I didn’t have much choice.

  I plucked the phone from the coffee table and chewed my lips as I pressed the keys. For each ring, I prayed no one would pick up but when the line clicked my stomach flipped. A woman's voice answered; she sounded older and almost as though she had just woken up. I checked the time to make sure it wasn’t too late.

  “Hi, is this the Shaw residence?”

  “Yes.”

  “My name is Selena. I hope I haven’t disturbed you.” I made a special effort to sound polite, but she said nothing in return. “I have a bit of an unusual story. I had a meal at the Bistro on Clarke Street. It was a few weeks ago now, the fifth of March. I believe you, or someone in your family may have been there that night.”

  “Where are you calling from?”

  “I’m sorry, my call is of a personal nature. No one has done anything wrong, it's just that I met a man with dark hair at the restaurant that night, and he said something important. I need more information and think he may be able to help. I don’t know if he is a relative or a friend of yours; I don’t even know his name but if you could help me at all—”

  She hung up. I looked at the phone while it beeped. I wasn't surprised but my heart still sunk. It made sense that I was afraid to take this step but to be denied the possibility of finding him made me realise how badly I needed it. I rang again. Perhaps it was invasive, but I had to try.

  She sounded irritated when she answered.

  “I’m really sorry to bother you, but this is very important to me,” I said.

  “How did you get this number?”

  I tried desperately to come up with an excuse but couldn’t think of anything and didn’t want to get the waitress in trouble.

  Eventually, she spoke again, “Brayden is in the hospital. I can’t help you.”

  For the second time, she hung up, and my nerves turned into a nauseating convulsion. He was in hospital. My memory instantly dragged me back to the forest. Perhaps the grey-eyed man had injured him. He could be dying right now, and I might never get the opportunity to speak with him.

  I went into overdrive, desperate to find him before it was too late. I snapped my computer open and searched the directory for a list of hospitals. I could only hope he shared the same surname as the woman I'd called. I called each hospital individually, but every time I asked for Brayden Shaw they said there was no patient by that name.

  Before long I could barely hold the phone. Twenty-five hospitals rejected my request and by the end I was on the verge of tears. I needed to find him.

  It had been a long night, and I was no closer to finding Brayden. In the end, my eyes had dried out, and exhaustion made my mind foggy. I had no choice but to sleep. Curtains blew gently across the window as I lay staring at the ceiling, thoughts too chaotic to relax. I rolled in my spot, struggling to get comfortable when an idea occurred to me. If I could find the address matching the name and phone number, I could follow someone to the hospital. I felt sure it was his mother I had spoken to. Sooner or later she would have to visit her son.

  Perhaps it was a long shot, but I was racing against the clock. I moved downstairs to check the computer again. It took hours to search through every listing and there was no way to know if his number would even be there. But eventually I found it; the surname, the number and address. I sat back and found my breath came slightly easier—I was, at least, one step closer.

  The next day I borrowed my brother’s car. I’d already marked a route to the Shaw residence. It was on a main road and easy to find. There were cars parked along the street so there was no chance I'd look suspicious waiting there. The house was small, but it looked neat and for some reason that made me feel better.

  For hours, I watched the front door, reversing the car backwards as the sun shifted across the sky. The shade of a tree offered some safety where my own shadow didn’t exist. My fingers drummed on the steering wheel as people came and went from their houses. I turned the radio on and flicked impatiently between stations. The more time that passed, the more I felt like a crazy person. This was probably illegal. I considered driving away but knew I couldn't run from this. The wounds on my body wouldn’t be enough to justify my actions to anyone else, but they were a reminder to me. This was real. In some twisted way, this was actually happening. The fact that Brayden was in hospital proved how much danger I was in.

  I straightened as a man with dark hair stepped out of the house. At first, I thought it was Brayden himself, but he looked too young. It could have been his brother. He hugged a woman at the door then made his way to a car.

  As he drove down the street, I stayed well back hoping he wouldn’t notice me. I’d intended to follow the woman, but there was no point wasting the opportunity when she might not leave the house all day. If this man didn’t go to the hospital, I could always go back and wait for someone else.

  At the traffic lights, I pulled up next to him and stared at his profile. He must have felt my gaze and turned. I smiled at him to study his features without seeming rude, but he grinned back, obviously mistaking my intention. He had to be Brayden's younger brother, similar features but in his early twenties. A car beeped from behind and I looked forward to see the lights had turned green. Brayden’s brother did the same and gave me one last look before driving forward. I changed lanes and drove behind him, suddenly realising how stupid it was to draw his attention. To compensate, I left a big gap and waited for other cars to cut in front. I stayed far back and hoped he wasn’t watching in his rear view mirror.

  He drove down a straight road for a long time. When his break lights came on, I slowed down and waited for him to disappear in
to a car park. I reached the driveway and read the sign. My foot slid off the clutch. The car shuddered and stalled.

  Mercy Mental Health Institute

  It wasn’t until a car came behind me and beeped angrily that I started the engine and moved into the car park. I hadn’t considered looking for mental institutes. When his mother said hospital, I didn’t even realise this was an option. It changed everything. He wasn’t here because he was physically injured, he was here because he'd been deemed insane. My first instinct was to leave, but then it occurred to me that telling anyone what was happening to me would probably lead me to exactly the same place. Maybe he was crazy, but I couldn't turn away without learning more.

  I leaned back in the car seat. It would be stupid to go inside while his brother was visiting. Plus, it was bright, and the shadows were strong. I’d have to wait until the sun set.

  I’d never been inside a mental hospital before. The thought of what I might find inside made my hands tremble, but it was the only way to really help myself. I opened the car door and buttoned my jacket as a cold wind rushed past. The parking lot was empty, and although the building was neat, I couldn’t help feeling uneasy on the approach. There was something haunting about the way the sunlight climbed the walls, the silhouette of the pillars standing tall and dark between the windows. I wondered if Brayden could see outside. Perhaps he sat on a bed watching the shadows in fear, just like I was.

  Inside, the walls were pristine white, almost blinding, except where a few paintings hung. They were clearly chosen for their bright colours, but it felt so unnatural, as though someone was trying to force life into a place that was long dead.

  I headed toward a sign labelled Triage. Behind it was a desk shielded with glass and a round woman with a tight expression.

  “Hi. I’m looking for Brayden Shaw.”

  “Are you a relative?”