“I thought she was a suspect?” Dethil whispered.

  Erador ignored Dethil’s death stare on the back of Miraline’s head. Not that she would see it well in the dark forest, after Dethil broke their lantern. The two moon’s copper and silver light helped guide them. They were too close to New Akthelia now for him to use fire.

  Miraline led the way and was a fast walker despite her size. She always kept up with Erador. So far, she hadn’t shown any signs of being suspicious, but Erador kept up his guard.

  “She knows a way in,” Erador said. “We might find information about that brooch.”

  Dethil agreed to come along, not because he believed in the cards, but Erador knew he was lying after he witnessed him pick up the dove card with blood on it.

  Miraline knelt by a bush and pushed aside limbs and leaves, revealing a trap door. With a huff, she pulled hard on the handle and opened it. She brushed off her hands and turned to Erador.

  “Doesn’t this place have many ways inside?” Erador said. “Do we have to pay anyone?”

  “I don’t think so,” Miraline said. “I haven’t used it for ages, but it should be accessible.”

  “How long has this been here?” Dethil said, peering inside.

  “I don’t know, but criminals used it,” Miraline said, quietly as if she was self-conscious that she knew about it.

  Too much control is what caused people to break away. It was no different than the indoctrination Erador had fought against. In New Akthelia’s case, a wall could never keep criminals out.

  “Where does this lead?” Erador asked.

  “An abandoned building.”

  Dethil rubbed his hands. “So… who goes first?”

  “With our lantern broken….”

  Erador looked to Dethil who groaned and found a stick on the ground. He lit it with his glowing hands and peered into the tunnel that was less than a story deep and jumped in. Miraline went next.

  Erador ducked as he went through the tunnel, the roots in the dirt walls scrapped his limbs and shoulders. A silhouette of Miraline and a hunched Dethil, were all he could see ahead.

  Several minutes later, Dethil stopped under a wooden trap door. “Is this it?”

  Miraline squeezed past him. “Put out your fire.”

  Dethil shut his fingers over the flame, smothering it and leaving them in darkness. As Miraline pushed up the creaking door, light seeped in. It fell over with a bang and Miraline jumped to reach the ledge and pulled herself out. Dethil went next as Erador followed, breathing in musty and wet wood. The room was filled with crumbling crates and barrels.

  Miraline led them to a door and peeked out before going into the streets. “The place I want to take you is closed until morning.”

  “Now what?” Dethil said.

  "There was a bookstore I wanted to visit to pass the time," Erador said. "It’s near a shop called Crystal Haven."

  "I know the one."

  This area of New Akthelia had smaller buildings and was run down compared to the area he came with Hawth and Aminria. Erador got a sense of familiarity when he tripped over a hole in the road. Few people were outside, some muttering and stumbling along and holding bottles. The urine and alcohol stench made Erador gag.

  Minutes later the area had better lighting and homes that weren’t dilapidated. They passed the fountain of the queen where he’d seen Emera and a chill lingered in the air. A few buildings later, they made it to the bookstore. It was as large as three houses across with double doors and golden round handles.

  The bell dinged as Erador opened the door for Miraline and Dethil, who went off to look at books on their own. He shut the door as he stepped in and a middle-aged man at the counter looked at him over his glasses.

  He rose from a stool. “How can I help you?”

  White crystal lights were strung over the aisles of shelves filled with books. Erador could only utter a surprised sigh when so much knowledge waited to be read.

  He broke his gaze from the books and turned toward the man. “Do you have any legends on the Cheeokwa.”

  The man gave a look of surprise. “It might be in the back section, to the right.”

  Erador wandered to that area, but only found old books with basic information on the Cheeokwa, not that he was surprised. They were vilified by Harians. Some of it didn’t seem accurate to what he learned from Haven and witnessed in their village. It never mentioned tales of the Tlamehakee and them having more than one soul.

  He made his way to the section of mythology. There wasn’t any useful information, only tales about gods and mythical creatures, some he’d heard from Loma, others not. The vesper section offered nothing new. He wished he could find a book on Maltibor, and the banned gods, but he wouldn’t in a place like this. Now, he felt his entire trip with Aminria and Hawth was useless and only led to Emera’s horrific death.

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  Erador moved further when his gaze caught a section labeled elements. He ran his finger across the colorful spins of blue, red, and orange and stopped on one that was black, contrasting with the other bright colors. He opened it, moving under the crystal lights streaming on the ceiling. It mentioned the dark elements, but Erador skipped over them, turning pages until a black shadowy illustration caught his attention.

  The top was labeled Shadow Elements and the information inside was what he learned about shadows, lurkers, and the Shadow Realm. It mentioned the method Cade had taught him to control a lurker and how it could save you from death, but controlling such a creature for too long could be detrimental to your life.

  The door’s bell rattled in the distance, and footsteps moved down the aisle toward Erador, but he was reading too closely to notice a nearby presence. He inhaled a scent of cinnamon, reminding him of Loma’s sweet plantains that were a rare treat when he was a child. It distracted his senses and he looked up.

  A scarf covered much of the man’s face, and his white wide-brimmed shadowed his eye color. The white continued with his gloves and vertical black and white stripped suit, only his undershirt was a ruby red that matched his shoes. The smell of cinnamon was stronger.

  The man leaned on a cane, aged lines lifted around his eyes as he looked to a shelf. “What’s your shadow's name?”

  Erador looked at Shade forgetting he was here as he hadn’t bothered him since before they left.

  “Shade.”

  “Hello, Shade.” The shadow zipped across the shelves and stopped, causing the man to laugh. “He sure enjoys attention.”

  “A little too much,” Erador mumbled as he looked back at the book.

  “I think most shadows do.” The man moved toward Shade and placed his hand over the dark shape that settled. “Though maybe you don’t give him enough.”

  Irritated, Erador half closed the book.

  “They’re our creation. They desire attention and….” The man turned, “Love… like a baby.”

  “He’s a baby all right.” Erador reopened the book, shifting his gaze through the words, but he couldn't retain any of it, too busy trying to ignore the man peering at the page.

  “Trying to tame a lurker, are you?”

  Erador looked up. The firelight caught in the man’s scarlet eyes, that sent a familiar tingle down his spin. “I might be. You know about this?”

  “That book will tell you how to tame them, but not the right way.”

  Erador lowered the book. “What do you mean by the right way?”

  The man walked along the shelf staring at the books. “That method is... how should I put it…outdated.” He stopped. “No… it’s cruel and inhumane.”

  “Isn’t it similar to how I tamed Shade?”

  He turned around. “At the beginning, was Shade... like an attention seeking child?”

  “I guess you can put it that way,” Erador said, closing the book.

  “Once you gave him that attention...”

  “Tame him.” Erador cut in. “I tamed him.”

  “Shadows are like people, or a close pet, not a beast you wish to train for war.” The man leaned on his cane. “Lurkers are no different.”

  Erador touched the scars on his jaw. “They’re monsters.”

  “They’re merely lost and need an owner to help them find their way again.”

  Erador lifted the book. “By doing this.”

  The man shook his head. “If you don’t have the strength, the lurker you control will turn on you when you least expect it. That book trains them to be beasts. They want acceptance. Not to be slaves. They want to be reminded of what it was like to have an owner who loved them. This...” the man placed his hand on the book. “Will show you how to control them, not work beside them. They will forever resent you and be a lurker: feral, unloving, cold.” The man looked over Erador. “You know what that’s like.”

  Erador’s brow furrowed. “You don’t know me.”

  The man’s wrinkles lifted around his eyes. “It’s easy to assume that we have all experienced it from someone at some point.”

  “What’s your point?” Erador tried to shove the book on the shelf, but struggled to. “They want acceptance.? How am I going to show them that when they want to kill me?”

  The man looked at the scars on Erador’s cheek. “You have to let your defenses down.”

  Erador gave one last push before the book went on the shelf. “You’re insane.”

  The man chuckled. “I can’t disagree with that.”

  Erador pulled his sleeve down, trying to cover his scars. “Well, I disagree with your method. If I let my defenses down around a lurker, I’ll be slaughtered.”

  “To tame them you need to forget everything you know about a lurker.” The man leaned on his cane. “It’s better to have something that reminds them of their past. It weakens them.”

  “How can I have anything from its past?” Erador snapped.

  “You must have seen the owner’s past after your attack and there after. Search those memories and you’ll find it.”

  An uncomfortable shiver ran down Erador’s spine. He could only recall Aminria in those visions as a child. Could he use her? He doubted she would let him. Maybe this man was right, or maybe he was fooling Erador into getting killed.

  “Why do lurkers kill people?” Erador said.

  “What do you think?” The man asked.

  “To consume our shadows and become stronger.”

  “Correct, but that’s not the full answer. Shadows are born to mimic us. Once that’s stripped away, they’re lost. They become feral and are unable to function. To fill that void they consume shadows and kill to feel whole again, but it never works. They grow stronger and hungrier, when all they want is a bond with a person again because it’s all they knew.”

  Erador looked at Shade, who was still and listening.

  “You have a bond with Shade, no matter how annoying you find him.”

  Erador looked down at the scars on his wrist. All he wanted was to be accepted by his father, but he was cruel and Erador had treated Shade that way since after his attack. He partially resented Shade, knowing he would become a lurker. Erador would spawn a future demon, but he never wanted to be the cause of that. A lurker didn’t need someone cruel, they needed a friend. He felt a plethora of swelling in his chest as Shade forced him memories of closeness they had. He smiled slightly, mentally thanking Shade for encouraging him.

  “They want acceptance,” Erador said.

  The man gave a nod. “Once they see that you’re willing to accept them, they become vulnerable and reveal their true form—it’s what they fear because it reminds them of what they used to have. You…” The man touched Erador’s shoulder. “You can provide what they desire. Love them. Don’t control them.”

  The man let go as Erador glanced at Shade. He was reminded of many things he hated from his lashings, to his mark, and to his attack but it would always be a part of him. It shaped him and fighting it too long would cause more pain. If he could get Slen to be as warm and loving as he used to be, then maybe it would help him be a little less scared.

  Erador went to thank the man but he was gone. The cinnamon scent lingered in the area. A red moth landed on a shelf nearby, fluttering it’s wings slowly like it was reminding Erador of what he needed to do. He walked past the aisles, hoping to catch the man’s scent, but he wasn’t here. He couldn’t remember hearing the bell ring.