I had to pee.

  The orderlies still hadn’t shown up.

  Fuck it.

  I crept out, scanning the room the way Carl would—methodical, paranoid, checking every angle.

  There was a prison-style urinal bolted into the corner.

  Fantastic.

  I moved toward it cautiously.

  I didn’t like how it forced my back to the door.

  I worked quickly.

  Plastic-paper underwear should not exist.

  I was nearly finished when the door opened.

  Carl would probably spin around, startled.

  But I needed them to try and sneak up on me.

  I waited as I finished and tucked myself away.

  A hand landed on my shoulder.

  Now.

  “Good mor—”

  I spun and drove my fist into his throat.

  He gagged, staggering back.

  The second one moved.

  Heel to groin.

  He folded.

  Uppercut under the jaw.

  He hit the floor hard.

  Two breaths.

  Both down.

  I was through the door before either could recover.

  No alarms.

  No shouting.

  There had to be cameras.

  And I could feel it—

  They were human.

  No accelerated healing.

  That gave me seconds.

  Seconds were enough.

  Past my room, the hallway felt more like a military installation than a hospital.

  I passed a set of windows.

  Didn’t hesitate.

  The latch gave on the first try.

  Seriously? Did they think I wouldn’t test that?

  Probably.

  Second floor.

  I could work with that.

  I swung out, gripping the frame, hanging at full extension.

  Then I let go.

  Time to see if this body was twenty-five or not.

  I hit the ground—

  and absorbed the impact with surprising ease.

  No jolt up the spine. No knee protest. No shoulder flare.

  That got my attention.

  I moved quickly toward the alley between buildings.

  Now I was starting to get unsettled.

  Tucking myself behind a dumpster, I reviewed my options.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  I dropped the mental shield.

  Relief flooded me—like it always did.

  Followed by the familiar ache behind my eyes.

  Good thing I hadn’t stayed in character too long or I’d be nursing a migraine.

  That probably should’ve clued me in years ago that what I was doing wasn’t normal.

  Attwater would know I’d escaped.

  I still had no access to Dragoon or Chaos.

  Some cosmic power he was if pharmaceuticals could block him.

  A faint protest brushed the back of my mind.

  Progress.

  I had no idea where I was.

  The good doctor could track me.

  And teleport.

  Of course he could teleport.

  Why that wasn’t part of my psychic skill set, I’d never know. Would be damn useful right now.

  I paused.

  Slipped my hand into the shadows pooled beneath the dumpster.

  Could I use shadow magic without Dragoon?

  That would help.

  Movement spilled from the building behind me.

  Thoughts sharp and searching.

  Find him.

  I chewed my lip.

  “Hey, shadows? Feel like hiding me?”

  Probably not how magic worked.

  But screw it.

  They answered.

  Shadows surged outward and the world drained into grayscale.

  Well.

  That answered that.

  One tendril wrapped gently around my wrists.

  Nuzzled.

  …Okay.

  We were continuing the weird.

  Magic could be a survival tool—just like my mental compartmentalization.

  Carl’s ability to box up anything sure came in handy.

  And I should probably stop referring to myself by the name I’d used on missions.

  The shadow crawled up my arm and settled on my shoulder.

  It patted my cheek.

  I sighed.

  Great.

  I had a pet shadow.

  Men and women in white flooded out of the building.

  I couldn’t hear them.

  In the grayscale haze, they fanned out, searching.

  Attwater stood among them.

  Evil Santa looked angry.

  Good.

  I slipped deeper into the shadow realm and moved away from the search party.

  From watching Edwin at the bookstore, I was fairly certain they couldn’t see me—

  But I didn’t trust whatever had attached itself to Attwater.

  I circled the buildings.

  Not military.

  Maybe an old college campus?

  Hard to tell.

  The shadow on my shoulder tapped my cheek urgently.

  “What, Inky?” I muttered.

  It froze.

  Then bounced in obvious delight.

  …Fantastic.

  I was never getting rid of it now.

  Then it started pointing toward a smaller admin building.

  “I don’t have time to explore,” I muttered, turning to find a way out of the compound.

  Inky smacked my shoulder.

  I looked at him.

  He pointed again.

  I rolled my eyes and changed direction.

  No one was searching this side yet.

  “If you get me captured…” I began.

  Inky immediately shook his head.

  “I’m arguing with a shadow,” I muttered.

  He patted my cheek gently.

  I resisted the urge to flick him off.

  The building was gutted. Abandoned.

  Inky pointed again.

  He led me to a small back room where a door was covered in pulsing blackness.

  That wasn’t shadow magic.

  Inky pointed to the wall beside it.

  “I can’t phase through walls,” I said flatly.

  More pointing.

  Sigh.

  “Fine. Let me demonstrate.”

  I stepped up to the wall and pressed my palm against it.

  “See?”

  I pushed—

  —and stumbled through.

  It felt like stepping into ice-cold water.

  Goosebumps erupted across my skin.

  I shook myself on the other side and glared at Inky.

  “A little warning next time?” I snarled.

  He shrugged.

  “Who’s there?” a woman’s voice called.

  Crap.

  I’d let my control slip.

  Someone could hear me.

  And I could hear them.

  I took in the room.

  Sparse.

  A bucket in the corner.

  A woman sat on the floor, wedged into the corner farthest from the door. She was staring at me—or more accurately, at where my voice had come from.

  Terror rolled off her in waves.

  Yeah. Nope. I’d be in that corner too.

  It had to be worse outside the Shadow realm.

  This was probably a mistake, but nothing about her screamed trap.

  I reached for her with shadow and pulled her into the realm.

  She let out an immediate sigh of relief.

  Something in my chest settled.

  Okay…

  That hadn’t happened since Kathy.

  She had long, straight black hair, light brown skin, and blue-gray eyes. A blue-gray flannel hung open over a red shirt, jeans, and work boots. Practical. Solid.

  Her gaze snapped to me, taking in my white clothes and sock-covered feet.

  “What the heck?”

  “They wanted me to believe I was a mental patient,” I scowled down at myself. “Didn’t work.”

  She studied me again.

  “Guess I’m lucky he just tried breaking me with fear,” she said dryly. “Also didn’t work. Where are we?”

  “Shadow realm,” I sighed, already sensing it in her. “Shadow dragon.”

  “You have access to your dragon?” She straightened instantly. “Mine’s blocked.”

  “Same.”

  She frowned.

  “Then how are you using shadow magic? That should be impossible without your dragon.”

  Uh.

  “I didn’t know that,” I admitted. “Does Guardian of Shadows change the rules?”

  Her eyes widened.

  Please.

  I’m just a guy trying not to screw this up.

  My shoulders crept up toward my ears.

  Her expression softened instantly. She scrambled to her feet.

  “That’s probably it,” she said quickly. “Sorry. Guardians are… revered among shifters.”

  “Shouldn’t be,” I muttered.

  “I’m Ruth.” She shoved her hands into her pockets. “Attwater was thrilled when he realized he’d caught a nightmare dragon.”

  “Nightmare?” I stared at her. “How many types of dragons are there?”

  She shrugged. “A lot. Our species originally comes from the Halloween realm. I need fear to survive, so…” She glanced toward the pulsing black door. “That thing blocks me — but it also sustains me.”

  “No food?” I blinked.

  Her head snapped up. She shook it vigorously. “Oh — no. I still need regular food. Fear’s a supplement. Most people give off enough naturally that I don’t have to scare anyone.”

  She raised her hands in defense.

  “Usually.”

  Magic was weird.

  “I’m Daniel,” I stepped slowly toward her. “We should probably get out of here.”

  I held out my hand.

  She gave me a brief, uncertain smile and took it.

  Inky slid down my arm, wrapped himself around both our wrists, and patted our joined hands.

  She stared at him. “What is that thing doing?”

  “No clue,” I said. “I call him Inky. He just… showed up.”

  “Um.”

  “Exactly.” I turned us toward a deeper clump of shadow. “I’m not exactly great with shadow magic, so, you know.”

  Inky climbed back up to my shoulder and nuzzled my cheek like I was doing something right.

  “Didn’t you learn after your first shift?” she asked.

  “Yeah. That was less than a week ago,” I shrugged.

  Her steps faltered slightly as we plunged into the shadows.

  ‘Take us someplace safe,’ I thought.

  The world went grayscale.

  Cold pressed in.

  Then the shadows peeled back.

  We stood in front of a crude headstone.

  Fuck.

  Kathy’s grave.