This September,
return to Segue and
the dark magic of the Shadowlands
with Erin Kellison’s long-awaited
Shadowman.
Shadow throbbed, twisting and
irregular, in the corners of the hospital room. Seething with
welcome, the ribbons of darkness crept past the cluster of too
cheerful sunflowers on the far table, through the quietly humming
machines, toward the bed where Kathleen lay.
Not long now. Shadow had always been
close, but soon the dark stuff would claim her.
Beyond the filmy layers, on the Other
side, the knotted and craggy boughs of Twilight trees swayed. Fae
whispers rose in an inarticulate hiss and
tick as they drew near to the thin veil
between the Shadowlands and the mortal world, looking on. Waiting
in heightening anticipation.
Not long at all.
Kathleen squeezed her sister’s hand,
urgency giving her the strength to make the squeeze hard. She drew
deep on the oxygen at her nose, and said, “Don’t let them kick you
out of the room.”
Maggie’s lips went tight. Her O’Brien
red hair had gone frizzy and she had more make-up under her eyes
than on top. Her sister reached above the hospital bed with her
free hand and switched the light off.
Shadow coursed into the void, but
Maggie, as ever, was oblivious to the churn around her. “We’ve been
over this,” she said. “You need to get some sleep
now.”
In fact, Kathleen could barely keep her
eyes open. With Shadow so close, so intent, she needed to be rested
and ready for when the time came, but getting Maggie’s cooperation
was too important; it was part of being ready, like the intensive
care neonatal room, prepared for delivery, the on-call doctors, and
the machines to warn the nurses if she declined rapidly. All the
rest meant nothing without Maggie’s agreement. “You need to be
there to make sure that the baby comes first.”
“I hate it when you talk like that.”
Maggie looked away.
Lately Maggie couldn’t meet her gaze,
which was why Kathleen needed this last assurance. Just in case.
“You know it’s what I want.”
The baby’s heartbeat shush-shush-shushed rapidly over the monitor. Kathleen
focused on the sound and used its promise to draw another difficult
breath.
She could see Maggie’s profile: her
sister’s jaw clenched, her throat working silently.
When Maggs finally spoke, her voice was
rough. “And what about you, huh? You can’t think that . . . that .
. . I’ll just let you . . . You’re my sister.” Maggie braced her free hand on her knee and
worked for breath as well, lowering herself into the
chair.
“I’ll be okay.” He’ll
be waiting for me.
Maggie turned back, words tumbling in a
sob-clogged accusation. “You could fight.
You could try to get through this. At least
you could try.”
Kathleen inhaled through the tightness
in her chest to speak. “I am fighting. I
am trying.” She was giving everything she
had to see her daughter safely into the world. She had no illusions
about what would come after. How could she with the room darkening,
the Shadows reaching farther with each passing moment? But she had
no fears. Not with him near. Her gaze
flicked to Shadow, searching for him in the glossy layers. When she
didn’t find him, she returned her attention to her
sister.
Maggie frowned hard, shaking her head.
Eyes blazing. “Not for yourself you’re not.”
Kathleen heaved for air again. “Maggs,
you know this is for me, too. This is better than I could have ever
hoped. I’m happy. Please let me be happy.”
How could she possibly make her sister
understand when it was so hard to speak? When the dark stuff filled
her lungs and choked her breath? Her own heart monitor started
jumping, its beeps closer together. Likewise, the baby’s
shush-shush increased, the digital number
climbing.
Instantly, Maggie was on her feet.
“Kathy, I’m so sorry. Honey, just breathe. In and out. In and out.”
She exaggerated the action on her behalf.
Likewise, Kathleen concentrated on the
flow at her nostrils, willing the good air to feed her blood, move
her heart, and keep her baby growing for just a little while
longer. Twenty-five weeks was the golden number, but every day gave
her baby girl a better chance to survive. Every day was another
three percent, that’s what the doctor said.
Maggie visibly swallowed, her face
reddening as she nodded and blinked back tears. “Okay. Don’t worry
about it. The baby first, like we agreed.” She swiped at her cheek.
“I swear I’ll be here. I won’t let them budge me from your
side.”
“The baby’s side,” Kathleen corrected
and managed a smile, her eyes fluttering closed. With Maggie’s
promise, her hold on wakefulness weakened and sleep sucked her
down.
“But I’m going to hope for you, too,”
Maggs said, her voice following Kathleen into slumber, the firm
grip on her hand never loosening.
Flying. Her favorite kind of
dream.
Kathleen skimmed the top-most branches
of the trees—higher!—then burst out over the
eastward cliff of Sugarloaf Mountain to careen into a turn above a
storybook patchwork landscape. The air smelled sharp and summer
sweet as she rushed, headlong into the dazzling blue. She filled
her eyes with the color until her heart could hardly bear
more.
Dizzy, she cast her gaze downward, to
the rocks she’d picnicked at with her family when she was little.
The scene was recalled in wondrous detail from the murk of her
memory. Lush trees, dark green. Screaming bugs. Grassy patches,
with large, white boulders. Rocky, rooty trails leading off in a
couple directions.
Mom was laying out their lunches,
waving away interested bees, while Dad dumped excess water from
their cooler. Her sister Maggie inched closer and closer to the
steep drop, yelling toward the woods, “Kathleen! I can see our
house!”
The dream suddenly morphed, and
Kathleen was seven years old, headed on foot into the tall red and
white oaks on the mountain. Old, dusty leaves crumbled underfoot.
The fragrant, humid air cooled as she moved deeper into the forest.
Her heart skittered in her chest and stars pricked into her vision,
but she didn’t care. The trees were sparkling and sighing and
swaying. Like magic.
“Stay away from the edge, Maggie,” Dad
called from somewhere behind her.
Kathleen quickened her pace, picking
her way over the jut and hump of tree roots. If Mom or Dad saw her,
they’d make her come back. Sit down. Rest.
She was sick of rest. Of new treatments
for her heart. Ever since she was born, something had been wrong
with it, a condition named with big words
she never wanted to learn. But she knew what they meant: She might
never grow up.
It was much better to explore the woods
than sit bored. She’d have all the time in the world to sit bored
at home. Later. This was her chance. How deep could she go before
they came after her?
Excitement made her breath short, her
heart glub glub before settling again. An
adventure at last!
The air around her shimmered. The
shadows shifted from patchy greys and blacks to purples and blues.
The colors of a fairy tale. Beckoning. Drawing her into a
story.
I’m a princess, lost in
a magical forest.
She stumbled on a loop of root. Her
heart glubbed again. Once, hard. She had to check her breath, but
she wasn’t going back. Not yet.
Silvery, tinkling music, like from her
jewelry box, filtered through the trunks. It was that Disney song
she loved that her mom said was really Tchaikovsky.
I know you. I’ve walked
with you . . .
Coming from . . . that way . .
.
She veered off the trail onto the
leafy, trippy ground. At the edge of her sight, strange forms
darted among the trees. Breathing became easier, the air sweeter.
Made her head buzz.
She lifted the skirt of her gold,
bejeweled dress. Because that’s what she’d be wearing. Gold and
jewels and a tiara with diamonds sparkling bright.
Deeper, deeper into the pretty purple.
Her heart was strong here. This was where she’d meet her
prince.
Within the darkening trees, the shadows
unfolded like shiny black crows’ wings, and there he stood. He had
long, silky black hair. He was tall and had way more muscles than
her dad. His eyes were black-black in a sharp and serious face, but
he didn’t scare her. He could never scare her. He’d been there all
her life, guarding her dreams.
Her Shadowman.
“Kathleen, love, go back,” he said,
voice urgent.
“But I feel so good. I want to
play!”
The shadows behind him started to turn
slowly, bruising with stormy eruptions. His dark cloak trembled and
snapped on the surface. Tendrils of darkness curled around his legs
and arms. One inky strand circled his neck.
“Kathleen, you must turn back now,” he
said. “I can’t hold Twilight from you long.”
“But it’s so pretty here.”
The trees shivered in the gathering
storm. Chattering whispers filled the air. And at the edges of her
vision, swift, glittering movement among the trunks. Faeries,
everywhere.
“It’s a lie to trick and take you
before it is time,” he said. “Wake up!” The shadows surged, and
Shadowman flung out his arms to hold them back. One of his hands
gripped a long staff, topped by a curved blade that glinted in the
colored light. A scythe.
Death.
Oh God! The
baby!
Kathleen whipped around, looking for
the mountain, the rocks, her parents. But she was in her hospital
gown, her bare feet shuffling in the velvet earth.
Trees surrounded her, dark trunks
thickening, branches stretching into a tight, dense canopy, its
scent intoxicating, muddling her mind. Where to
go?
“Run!” Shadowman shouted, his voice
tight with strain.
Kathleen bolted, the frigid darkness
licking at her heels and chilling her bare legs. But there were
only trees and trees and more trees, pressing in to block her
path.
Too soon! She
had to get back. Had to deliver her baby before Shadow could take
her. She had to find a way back to life, if only for a few
moments.
“Maggie!” she screamed.
“I’m right here,” Maggie said. “I won’t
leave the baby. I’ll keep my promise.”
Pressure crushed Kathleen’s chest. She
gulped for air, but was drowning anyway. Her heart clamored wildly.
No amount of forced calm would stop it.
The hospital room was a chaos of
movement. Nurses, doctors, blurring around her. Maggie was a flash
of red hair to her upper right. The young doctor, Cotter, was
there, a green mask over his face, gloved hands lifted, waiting. A
new machine was wheeled into position next to her and a strange man
tugged on her IV.
“. . . acute pulmonary edema . .
.”
She was lying flat, where before she
had been at a slight incline. Something pricked, burned. “The
baby,” she said, but her voice was a rasp. The
baby!
“. . . congestive heart failure . .
.”
“There was no way this baby was ever
going to make it to term,” a nurse was saying. “Someone with her
condition should have never gotten pregnant.”
“Shut up,” Maggie bit back. “You don’t
know anything.”
Kathleen’s vision sharpened as the
forest grew around her. Twilight had followed her into wakefulness
as her crossing neared. Trees speared the hospital room, floor to
ceiling, invisible to all but her. A woodsy scent filled her nose
and soft fae voices whispered excitedly. It was a place of magic
and dreams, of fantasy and nightmare. There was no escaping its
Shadows, not for anyone. No eluding it for long, even with
Shadowman holding the darkness back. Everyone eventually had to
travel the dark tunnel formed by its trees.
She’d been at its brink all her
life.
“Kathleen,” Shadowman said, a murmur at
her ear. Of course he would be near.
“Not yet,” Kathleen begged soundlessly.
Heart failing, her lungs filled with fluid. “Please.”
Maggie leaned in, face blotchy and
white. “Honey, it’s time. The baby needs to come out now. Stay with
me, okay? I need you, sis.”
She veered out of view as the doctor
brushed something across the mound of Kathleen’s stomach. The world
blurred as the colors of Twilight became more distinct—deep
vermillion, raging magenta, violent indigo. Static roared in her
ears. Her heart clutched. Sensation both numbed and heightened in a
frightening electric fission. A change.
Not pinned to a table. Not drowning.
Not gasping for air.
Held.
Shadowman’s arms tightened around her.
Touching her for the second time in her life. His skin brushed
hers. His hair tangled on her shoulder. His breath was warm at her
neck.
Their first union had led to this
moment, when he had crossed to her world, disregarding fae laws so
they could be together, to touch just once. They’d stolen time,
defied Fate, and created new life. She had never regretted it. Not
even now.
With the Twilight forest behind her,
Kathleen looked on the world through a thickening veil. Her mortal
body lay collapsed on the operating table, eyes glassy, unfocused.
A doctor worked at her belly. His hand disappeared into her
skin.
“. . . she’s in asystole . .
.”
“Kathy!”
The doctor eased a small form out of
her womb. The baby filled his palm, her skin tinged slightly blue
and smudged with a whitish paste. Her face was scrunched,
beautiful, while her pink tongue touched air.
Her baby. Her little love. Talia.
A wail rose in Kathleen’s throat like
gorge. She reached out her arms, straining toward her child.
So small! Kathleen’s fingertips grazed the
mortal world.
But Shadowman held her tight against
the wall of his chest. Into her ear, he said, “Forgive
me.”
“Please let me hold her.” The
separation from her child was a vacuum of pain in her chest. Every
nerve screamed in protest. Her marrow burned while her skin went
frigid. There was no heart pain like this scoring need, no injury
or disease more vicious than tearing her from her
child.
His lips moved against her cheek. “You
know I cannot.”
How could he be so cruel? Did his cold
fae blood spare him this pain? The child was his, too.
Kathleen turned to face Death, bitter
recriminations on her tongue. Shadowman looked down on her, gaze
filled with sadness.
“She’ll live,” he said. “Even so small,
her lifeline is strong.”
“I want her. She’s mine. Don’t take me now.” But Death had walked by her
side since she was born, holding back the Shadows. She’d always
known that one day she’d have to cross. She’d known that bearing
her child would part the veil. She’d fought for this very
moment.
Kathleen whirled back to view the
receding world. Maggie was standing sentry next to the nurse,
watching her siphon mucus out of the baby’s nose. Prick for blood.
Enclose her in a preemie unit. Her sister looked back once toward
the action at the operating table, face grey, eyes aged, but she
followed the child out of the room.
“The babe is strong,” Shadowman said.
“Like her mother.”
Kathleen would have crumpled to the
ground without his firm hold. “I want to know her. I want to be
with her. It’s not fair!”
She trembled uncontrollably, gripping
his arms for support.
Shadowman was quiet too long, and a new
horror bloomed in Kathleen’s mind. She went very still. “Is she
like you? Or like me?”
The fae were bound to the Between
world, the twilight Shadowlands. They couldn’t exist on Earth, or
cross Beyond like humankind, to the Afterlife.
“She’s both. A half-breed. Our daughter
has a foot in each world,” he said. “No one knows what she will
become.”
“So I may have lost her
completely?”
“I don’t know.”
“And when I cross, I’ll lose you,
too?”
His silence answered her.
Pain turned to rage. Strength surged
within her. “Nuh-uh. No way. I’ll have you both.”
“I warned you before.” His face was in
her hair, and she knew he was memorizing her. Taking everything he
could before he passed her on to the Hereafter. The trees around
them were already stretching into a dark tunnel to oblivion. They
had only moments left.
“Yeah, well, I’m not going to accept
it.”
She felt a sad chuckle against her
body. “Your spirit has always awed me.”
“I’m not letting this
happen.”
“It has already happened.” He took her
face in his hands, traced her lips with his thumb. “It is the way
of the three worlds.”
Kathleen shook her head. “I was
supposed to die when I was a kid, and I lived to bear my own,” she
said, “so I think I can handle this. What we need is a
plan.”
“How I love you.” His gaze searched her
face, fierce longing tugging at his black eyes.
The most important thing first: “You
look after our girl. Keep her safe.”
Just uttering those words sent fresh
pain roaring through her.
He put a hand to her chest, as if to
stop the hurt. “Shhh. Yes. How could I not?”
Faery whispers rose on all sides. The
air thickened with magic. Kathleen felt Shadowman shift, drawing
his cloak around her. They turned together to face the dark canopy,
the tunnel to forever. A bright spark glimmered in the distance.
The Afterlife.
Kathleen steeled her nerve. “And I’ll
find a way back to you both.”
