The Shadow Prince

“Anymore? Tobin, I’m going onstage with him”—I check my watch—“in twenty minutes. You’re the one who challenged him to this. I’m not going to just cancel on him.”

“He’s up to no good. He’s dangerous.”

“Dangerous? What’s he going to do to me in a large group of people? I’ve been alone with him several times in the last two months. If he were going to do something to me, he would have done it then. And you know what? Instead of hurting me, he’s protected me twice now from whatever that thing out there is that’s been attacking people.”

“You’re starting to like him, aren’t you?” Tobin asks, like it’s an accusation.

“This is ridiculous,” I say. “I don’t have to answer that.”

“You’re being ridiculous!” Tobin practically drops his phone in the lake as he gestures at me as if he thinks I’m acting unhinged. “I’ve got proof your boyfriend is—”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“But you like him, don’t you?”

“I … I don’t know.”

“You’ve gotten too close, Daphne. You’re letting your feelings for him cloud your judgment.”

I throw my hands up. “I don’t have time for this.” I storm up the dock and grab my bike.

Tobin follows me. “I’m not saying he’s a killer. That’s the thing—I know Abbie is still alive. I know she’s out there somewhere. I can feel it, Daphne. I can feel that Haden can lead me to her.”

“I hope we find your sister. I really do. I just think you’re looking in the wrong place.” I get on my bike.

“Don’t go, please.”

“I’ll see you at the festival, Tobin.” I give him a smile so he knows we’re still friends. “Good luck with your number.”

I set off for the festival, leaving him to follow behind on foot. I can’t quite explain why I’d gotten so defensive of Haden. I just can’t believe he’s a bad person. Maybe it’s because of what he told me about holding his mother when she died. Maybe it’s because he’s the one who encouraged me to open up to Joe, and I’d actually gotten a positive result out of it. Maybe it’s because I enjoy singing with him so much—his voice complements mine so well. Or maybe it’s because Tobin might be right.

Despite my better judgment and despite my utter lack of time for a relationship, when it comes to the idea of my starting to like Haden … All signs point toward yes.

Crap balls.

Chapter forty-three

HADEN

I was born to a race of warriors. My training began when I was six years of age. I have fought and bested Underlords who are twice my size. I have killed a hydra with my bare hands. Placed my head on the altar and left myself to my father’s wrath or mercy. I have traveled through Persephone’s Gate into a realm unknown to me. But I have never experienced fear quite like the anticipation I feel: knowing that in mere minutes, I am expected to sing with Daphne in front of the entire town.

I’m pressing hard on my knee to stop my leg from shaking, and in turn, the row of chairs beside me, when Daphne sits down next to me. I breathe out a small sigh. I’d almost been afraid that she wasn’t coming.

“Want one?” she says, offering me an orangish, discuslike thing. It’s speckled with brown spots. “Might help calm your nerves.”

“What is it?” I try not to wrinkle my nose at her offering.

“It’s a pumpkin chocolate-chip cookie, dork.” She makes a teasing face at me. “You eat it.”

She drops the said cookie into my hands. It’s soft to the touch, yet firm. “You made a pumpkin into this?” I sniff it. It smells too sweet to be a squash.

She smirks. “Believe it or not.”

I start to take a tentative bite.

“And, no, I didn’t make it. Lexie and her Sopranos just gave me a whole box of them from Olympus Hills Bakery.”

I pull the cookie away from my mouth and cast it onto the table in front of us. “Are you sure they’re not poisoned?”

She smirks again, thinking I’m joking. “Good point.” She takes a cookie out of the box and takes a bite out of it anyway. I watch, horror-stricken, waiting for any signs of a toxic reaction.

“Mmm,” she says, and takes a second bite. “Lexie and I have reached an understanding.” She looks up as Lexie, Bridgette, and a couple of the other Sopranos call out their wishes of good luck to us. They’re manning something called a Check Your Heart booth as part of the festival. Signs posted around their booth announce free cholesterol tests and blood pressure screening. There’s a long line at the booth. I’m not surprised. With there now having been seven “heart attack” victims—three of which were fatal—in the last few weeks, I’m sure the humans are getting anxious about their well-being. The school principal even announced that they’re banning something called trans fats from the cafeteria, indefinitely.

If they had any idea of what is really causing the attacks, I doubt they’d be gathering out in the open en masse like this. They’d all be at home with their doors and windows locked tight—not that it would do them much good.

Watching the crowd mill about the festival makes my nerves bristle more. This place could be a feeding frenzy for a Keres. I can only hope it isn’t hungry tonight.

Brim and I have gone hunting for the Keres every night for the last two weeks without much luck. Every scent trail has led to either a dead end or another hapless victim. How it manages to keep eluding me, I don’t know. If I didn’t know that Keres are mindless beasts, I’d almost call this one cunning.

The question that keeps nagging at me is what am I even supposed to do when I find it? How do you attack something that has no form? How do you stop something you cannot touch?

How do you kill a shadow?

I pull out my phone and send a quick text to Dax, telling him that I want him to patrol the perimeter of the festival. I wait for a response but none comes. Dax is supposed to be here somewhere, but I haven’t seen him all day. I’ve barely seen him at all in the last two weeks.

I try Garrick next, sending an order to get his ass to the festival to help with patrols, but that message goes unanswered also. Ever since he admitted knowing the truth about my involvement in his banishment, he’s become more and more obstinate to my commands. Like he knows that I know if I push him too far, he’ll go squealing to Dax about what I did. He’s probably glued to that stupid Xbox device he brought home a couple of days ago.