“No. I’ve been trying to figure that out ever since I woke up in a memory.”
“In this one?”
I shake my head. “An older one.”
“Has there been any pattern to them? Anything we can start with?”
“No. Nothing that I’ve noticed yet. Honestly, they’ve been really random.” The world ripples, and I cling to Tarnley’s hand as the ground shakes beneath our feet.
“What is happening?”
“I think it knows you’re here.”
Like an old TV, the world goes static moments before it returns to the black, and Tarnley and I are both staring at myself. Wearing the white shirt I was taken from Tarnley’s in, it stares back at us with midnight, soulless eyes.
“You are an interesting development,” it spits out. “Why did you not leave as the memory did?”
“Let her out.”
“No.”
“One way or another, we will beat you. We always win.” The conviction in his voice—the strength—fuels the fight within me.
“This is my body, my mind, and I don’t want you here.”
It turns toward me, cocking its head to the side and grinning, the smile far too wide for my face. “If only it were that easy, witch. Unfortunately for you, there will be no tapping your heels together and wishing for home.”
Referencing my favorite movie, fun.“I will find a way out of here, and when I do, I will do everything in my power to destroy you. Even if it means sacrificing myself to do so.” Tarnley’s hand tightens on mine.
The shadow’s grin spreads, and it raises its hand. A blade appears from nowhere, and it palms the silver, raising it so the blade is pointed directly at us. “I may not be able to kill either of you, but I can keep you here.” It moves toward us. “Killing you slowly, over and over again, until I drive you so insane you won’t ever be able to wake up.”
It charges, and Tarnley shoves me aside to block. He’s slow here, though, completely lacking all of his supernatural abilities, so when he throws an arm up, the blade slices through, lancing his forearm open to the bone. He roars in pain, and I lurch forward, slamming my shoulder into her and knocking her backward.
How does one even combat their own mind?
I whirl on Tarnley as blood pours from the wound. My only thought is to heal him, to get him somewhere where I can stitch the wound and we can find a way out of this hell. It’s then the area around us shifts, morphing before my very eyes into a clinic from another time.
“I will find you,” the voice whispers as it fades from view. “You cannot run from me, witch. I am in your very soul.”
I blink, and Tarnley is sitting on my table, arm cradled, wearing a button-down shirt and brown slacks that are more akin to something from the late eighties.
Then I realize just where we are and what memory this is.
“What the hell?” he asks, staring first down at his clothes, then at the new surroundings.
I shake my head. “I don’t understand how any of this is possible.” But, seeing an opportunity and not knowing how long it will last, I grab my kit from the counter and return to his side to rip the sleeve of his shirt all the way open.
“I remember this day. I’d been injured on a clean-up when the dead shifter’s mate showed up and tried to relieve me of my arm altogether.” He stares down at the injury. “Twisted that the injury is in the same place. I can’t believe it actually hurts in here.”
“Do you think it’s possible she can make you relive all of your pain?” I remember the day I bonded with him, the agony he was in. If the shadow makes him relive that, I’m not entirely sure she won’t make good on her promise to drive us mad.
“Don’t focus on that. We’ll figure out how to get you out.”
“I wish I knew.”
“There’s something you should know.”
I stop prepping the area and look up at him. “What?”