Shadowbook

Chapter 12: Shadows' Night Out

"City of night, Wrap me in your folds of shadow. City of twilight... Wrap me in your folds of shadow. City of midnight, city that the full moon overflows, city where the cats prowl and the closed iron dust-carts go rattling through the shadows: City of midnight, Wrap me in your folds of shadow." — From the poem "In the City of Night" by John Gould Fletcher, written in the memory of Edgar Allen Poe

"Who are you?"

I woke with a start. Bryon, my foster brother, was in my room, looking furious. "What the hell are you doing in my room?!" I roared. "Get out! Now!"

Bryon glared at me. "What am I doing in your room? You should ask him what he's doing in your room! In fact, he was lying next to you in your bed!"

I didn't need to ask who 'he' was. Sure enough, at the end of my bed was a tangled, wriggling bundle of folds. Eventually Astor's head emerged from them. He looked furious at being in this less-than-dignified position. He arranged his folds best he could, ran his hand through his hair, and got off the bed. He crossed his arms and gave Bryon a contemptuous look.

"Who the hell are you?" Bryon snapped.

Astor smiled wickedly. "You do not recognize me? Do you not remember when we were ten years old? Well, I suppose it is understandable that you do not recognise me; four years ago I had short hair."

Bryon squinted at him, then said, "You?"

Astor's grin widened.

"Wait, you know each other? How?" I asked.

"This is not the first time I have been to the Conscious world, Nyx," said Astor. "I lived here, with this family, in this house, for a year."

"Really?" I was shocked. He was the Prince of Shadows! Why would he have to live here for a year?

"I will explain later," said Astor.

"I remember you, Pretty Boy!" Bryon cried. "You have such a crazy, long name! And I remember what you don't like!" He lit a flashlight.

Several things happened very quickly. When Bryon shined the flashlight on Astor's face, his eyes had glowed. They glowed the way a cat's eyes did when hit directly with a light. Bryon screamed and jumped back in terror, dropping the flashlight. Astor covered his eyes with his wing and ducked under his folds. I heard muffled cursing and the bundle of folds shook as though Astor were burrowing down deeper into it, trying to block out the light completely.

Bryon blinked, and managed to recover from the shock enough to pick up the flashlight again and brandish it like a sword. "Ha! Scared of the light! And you call yourself royalty? Pathetic!"

I knew immediately that he had gone too far. Astor's violet eyes gleamed furiously from underneath the folds. He looked bestial. He gave an angry roar and hurled himself at Bryon. They tumbled around on the floor until Bryon was thrown against the wall. The flashlight fell and went out.

"What is going on?" Bryon's mother entered the room, then stopped dead when she saw Astor. "You! I remember you!"

Astor chuckled.

"Why did you hurt my son?!"

"Oh, please, he is not hurt. But I never take an insult well."

"And that's a good enough reason to shove him against a wall?"

"Of course."