Shadows of the Night | BOOK 2 DRAFT

13

13. 

Wind ripples past me as I tumble down the hill. The smoke on the other side of the island spirals into the air as the fire grows bigger, ravishing the huts. Malik's faster than me, moving with the grace of a wolf. I'm only a quarter of the way down by the time he reaches the shack, glancing up at me before stepping into the shadow cast by the light of the fire. My breath is harsh and ragged as I stumble to the bottom, searching for Malik. I notice the glow of his eyes in the shadows.

Using his hand, he gestures me forward to scale the wall, heart pounding as I reach the corner and peer around. The wood juts out into a makeshift door that faces the rest of the huts. I dart my eyes from the door to the fire. I can see three people actively trying to put it out, another watching as it threatens to burn another hut. Apart from that, the coast seems clear.

I turn to Malik and nod. He glides past me, sliding through the gap in the wood. I wait a few seconds before following him, gazing around. There's a long hallway lit by a sole lantern in the middle that leads to a door at the end. There are three doors on the way down. All closed. Unease swirls in my stomach because if Elias truly is here, it almost feels easy. Too easy.

Malik grabs my wrist and we creep forward, the wood creaking beneath our weight. Malik keeps us in the shadows as we pass the first door. He holds a hand up and presses his ear to the door before opening it. The room is pitched black, the only light filtering through the small window and casting an orange glow over the tools on a wooden desk.

A needle. A syringe. Wires.

I turn. "Do you—"

He slaps a hand over my mouth, grabs my wrist, and pulls me into the room, pressing his body against mine until we're molded into the wall. A door slams. My heart pounds as I stare up at him, his arms wrapping around me in the shadows. Footsteps hurry down the hall.

"Go!" My blood runs cold as the sound of her voice. Cynthia. "We're on a bloody island, use the water to put it out!" 

"We're trying but it's too big!"

A fist bangs against the wall I'm pressed to. I dig my nails into Malik's wrist. His blue eyes hold mine, steady and comforting. I have to remind myself to breathe. Because the woman who took Elias is standing through a thin wall and it takes everything in me not to scream. There's a thud, and then footsteps until the door we came through slams, and silence settles around us. I take a shaky breath as Malik moves his hand from my mouth and I release his wrist, my nails leaving half-moon indents.

"We have to hurry," I say. "Before she comes back."

He nods, stepping back into the hall. We're less careful, more rushed as we check the other rooms before reaching the one at the end of the hall. With each step, a coil tightens in my chest. Malik puts his hand on the doorknob, turning to look at me.

"Ready?"

I nod, and he opens the door. Iron—it's the first thing I notice. The room smells of wet metal—blood. There's a single window, but it doesn't provide much light. A shelf on the wall, a cabinet beneath. A bed in the center. White sheets covering a body shaped lump.

My heart halts. I freeze in the doorway. Malik steps forward, pushing aside the pole holding a bag of red liquid by the bedside. I hold my breath as he gently pulls the sheet back, then looks at me. "It's him."

I'm almost afraid to look. When I do, it feels like a punch to the stomach. I've dreamt of this moment for months, of seeing Elias again—his warm eyes, dimpled smile, golden skin. But the man lying on the table looks so different he's almost unrecognizable. His eyes are shut, lips pressed together. His skin is a sickly grey colour, pale, like a corpse. Tears choke in my throat as Malik pulls the sheet to his waist, revealing the waistband of a pair of ragged shorts. He's shirtless, the expanse of his chest dotted with needle marks.