Free Shadow of Doubt: Part 2 by W.J. May Page B

on the glass, her raincoat completely open. Three minutes…
    “What the hell are you doing?” she
hissed.
    “Fucking you over.” He couldn’t keep
the grin off his face. “Open the door!”
    “No.” Two minutes…
    “Idiot! I’m the one inside . This isn’t going
to save you or your precious bitch.”
    Aurora was still alive. Nanny had just
given him that information. Hope and determination seared through
him. Outward, he struggled to keep everything calm, refusing to let
Nanny read into anything.
    “One minute, ‘Bus.” Venom dripped from
her voice.
    The terror that always overflowed
before sunrise began to seep into him fast. Shadows weren’t
supposed to be out. Sweat spread across his forehead as he gasped
shallow breaths of air. He tried to focus on Nanny’s face, but
everything began to blur. Unfocussed, he stared as her fuzzy shape
sank towards the floor.
    Unable to hold on any
longer, he did what he’d been planning all along. He’d rationalized
if they could possibly share the booth, they’d be the same shadow,
intertwined. He’d know all her thoughts and actions by nightfall –
if it didn’t destroy both of them first. Now! Go now!
    Both hands ripped the door off its
hinges as he tore it open. He barely held consciousness as he
collapsed into the booth, crashing into Nanny.
    They disappeared into the
shadows.

Chapter 8
    Payback
     
    Confusion filled him. That
same feeling of trying to swim through deep water, to break through
for air, lingered. For the first time, he wasn’t alone. She struggled and fought
as well, but the way she reacted, her panic gave the impression of
limbs and body flailing everywhere. She’d drown both of them if he
allowed her fear into his core. That trapped feeling held them both
in. His thoughts were hers, and her terrified feelings belonged to
him. Their occlusion was one, both fighting to escape, both knowing
it was futile. The weight of that realization knocked them
senseless. Trying unsuccessfully to focus, the spinning inside
their heads too much, they knew they’d pass out again. Both dropped
in defeat, back into the black oblivion.
     
    Erebus woke seconds later, his back
resting against the inner booth’s chilly glass wall. Someone had
ripped the door off its hinges. It rattled against a strong breeze.
Outside was dry. The wind must have blown the rain away.
    Cool flesh pressed against his arm. He
could feel it through his coat. The events of last night hit him in
the gut, knocking him breathless. He jumped away from the booth as
if it was on fire and turned to the object of his
hatred.
    “I know what you’ve done,” he hissed
at Nanny.
    She stood dazed inside the phone
booth, still trying to focus on coming out of the Shadows. Her
raincoat was completely buttoned up, her belt tied
tight.
    Erebus experienced everything Nanny
had ever done, every thought and feeling she’d ever had – all of
it. For everything he knew about her, she would know the same of
him.
    Spit sprayed from his mouth. “Get out
here. Now you understand why I could never be with you or why I
would never come back to you.” He’d never experienced fury like
this. It felt as if his emotions were becoming
more…human.
    She’d never cried before, but now her
eyes brimmed and spilled over. He had no sympathy for her, and no
time. He needed to get to Aurora.
    “What have you done to me? You’ve made
me feel,” she sobbed, wiping tears away with the back of her
hands.
    “It isn’t all about you.” Her hardness
had given him some kind of edge. His softness had obviously done
something to her as well.
    “I’m… I’m sorry,” she said, barely
above a whisper.
    “I don’t care. You’ll never change.
You might feel this way for a few nights, but you’ll go back to
your old ways in no time. We both know that. Just forget about me.
Don’t ever seek me out again. Do that and I won’t report you to
Janus, or even worse, the Night Council. That’s the only thing I
offer, and