Chapter 8 · First Meal in the Dark

"Get your damn head down!" Lyra's voice screamed in my ear a split second before the guard's blade slammed into the floor where I'd been standing.

Metal shrieked against stone. The shockwave rattled my teeth. I didn't have teeth, technically, but I felt the vibration rip through my gelatinous shadow-form. I was pinned against her boots, pressed so hard into her shadow that I could feel the heat radiating off her skin. It was suffocating. It was electric.

"You're late on the paperwork, girl," the guard spat, his voice a gravelly mess. He didn't move the blade. He kept the tip buried in the floor, blocking my only exit. "System's still processing the claim. Until then, this thing is trash. And trash gets incinerated."

Lyra didn't flinch. She stepped forward, her boot grinding into the edge of the guard's blade, forcing it an inch deeper into the rock. I felt her shadow ripple—a sudden, violent surge of ownership.

"The system is lagging. I'm not," she snapped. She looked down at me, her eyes sharp, mocking. "Still with me, little pet? Or did you enjoy the taste of that blade?"

I wanted to tell her to go to hell.