Chester, England

Cory took a last slurp of his drink. Then he yelped, turning his head to look over his shoulder at a seared spot on his shirt.

Sam slapped at his neck. His hand came away bloody.

Cory shouted, “Shadow Scythes! Get up, Sam. We have to get inside.” He swore as a burn mark appeared on his shirt. Batting at a wisp of smoke, Cory tugged on Sam’s arm. Sam took a hit on his ear before they made it into the café.

“What the hell is going on?” Sam fingered the raw section of earlobe.

“Foe. Their Scythes set up a picture or make a drawing. When they look at you, whatever they’re doing to the image moves through your shadow to your body.”

“Sounds like voodoo, at least the Hollywood kind.” Sam scanned the café. People sat at tables or on stools along counters with computers. No one paid attention to him or Cory.

“They could be anywhere,” Cory said, “on the street, in a building—anywhere they can see us.”

“Tessa and your mother are out there. We have to find them. Those overhanging galleries should give us cover, but we’ll have shadows when we cross streets.”

They made it to the first corner under the shop balconies before they faced the unprotected area of the cathedral’s lawn. “Now what?” Sam wondered aloud. Both of them knew the answer: Run.

Cory, burned on one ankle, hop-ran while Sam pulled him along by the elbow. Sam felt a sharp pain in his leg. Looking down, he saw a thumb-sized shard of glass projecting from his thigh. Blood stained his jeans below the pocket. “God,” he breathed, plucking out the glass. He slapped his hand over the wound, thinking of other places the glass could have lodged.

They plunged ahead to get caught under the last overhang before the crossroads, pausing there to catch their breath and to search the intersecting streets for the women.

Ping. A piece of glass, then others, rained on the street. Passersby stopped, pointed, and backed away, pressing Sam and Cory against a store window. Shoppers milled out, curious about the commotion. Sam studied the awning. It was thick, but it would not last forever. Already cuts were appearing in the canvas.

Someone grabbed his arm. He tensed for a back-elbow but stopped himself in time. It was Tessa. Oh, God, Tessa. He swept her into his arms, packages and all.

“Where’s Mom?” Cory bellowed.

“I’m here.” Maggie shoved past Tessa and Sam with an armload of bags. “What on earth is happening?”

It wasn’t the earth but the sky that answered. Lightning crackled, followed by thunder so loud everyone huddled by the building jumped. Embarrassed laughter burst forth from the crowd as rain—lovely, ordinary rain—poured down, erasing all shadows.