The shadow creature wasn’t that tall. After a moment, four legs formed under it, and it looked almost like a wolf made of shadow. Its shadow head reared up at us. Then it stumbled, almost like it was drunk. It looked terrifying, but at the same time… it didn’t seem that dangerous.

  “Syrin?” I whispered, gripping his arm.

  “I can kill it. I just… don’t know if I can do it without burning down the store.”

  I let out a squeak. “Please don’t burn down the store.”

  “Something’s wrong with it. Like it tried to follow me, riding my magic, but not all of it made it through.”

  “You’ve seen these things before?”

  “Yes.”

  Great. It shook itself, slightly listing to the side again. It ran into the rack of long sleeve shirts, and shadow stuck to the bottom of the fabric for a moment. Creepy.

  I tightened my grip on Syrin's arm. “Is it dangerous?”

  “A little. Just don’t touch it. Then it might infect you. It’s a scout, which is why we need to kill it now.”

  “Infect me with what?”

  “Shadow,” Syrin said like it was obvious. Right, because I totally knew what that meant.

  The shadow thing stumbled again, almost shaking itself.

  “So kill it!” My voice didn’t quite stay even.

  “I’m barely holding it together as is, and you want me to try fire magic? You saw how well that went this morning!”

  “Well, lure it into the fitting-room hall. At least there’s nothing to see there.”

  Syrin grimaced, but a trail of light left his fingers, and the floating spheres he’d made before appeared.

  The thing’s attention immediately shifted.

  “You first,” Syrin said.

  “Into the men’s dressing room?”

  “Trina.” Syrin’s voice was like steel. I’d never heard that tone from him before.

  I scrambled back, keeping my eyes on the creature. Syrin crept back toward me, the spheres surrounding the creature.

  It made an almost hissing sound. One of the spheres darted forward, and the shadow wolf ran from the light.

  Directly towards us.

  The first few bounds were fast, but then it slowed again, like it was dizzy.

  How do you even fight a shadow? And don’t touch it? What was I supposed to do? Challenge it to a staring contest?

  My back hit the mirror at the end of the hallway. “Syrin.”

  He glanced back at me, shifting until he was right in front. The shadow wolf hissed as another one of the lights bumped into it. It snapped a dark maw, and the light disappeared.

  Syrin winced.

  “Now seems like a good time,” I muttered.

  I caught his reflection in the far mirror, jaw tight and eyes unfocused. Then his light shifted, like sunlight hitting copper. A wave of heat rolled across the narrow hallway.

  It was a little terrifying. “Syrin?”

  “Don’t move,” he muttered.

  I froze. The little spheres of light deepened to the same copper hue, orbiting the shadow like miniature suns. One flared too bright. The sharp smell of melting plastic hit as one of the doors blackened at the edge.

  Syrin drew a breath that sounded almost like a gasp, and the spheres shot forward all at once. The shadow wolf tried to dodge, tendrils lashing out to swallow the light, but every time it touched one, it burned away, bit by bit.

  It let out a shriek that was more vibration than sound. I flinched. Please, let no one have heard that. Please, let no one check yet.

  Syrin trembled, the light around him tightening, burning whiter at the edges. Then the shadow folded in on itself and was just… gone.

  The spheres winked out, but Syrin’s glow didn’t fade, and the heat wasn’t dissipating.

  “Syrin?”

  His eyes were shut tight, and he was trembling, his glow still that coppery color. The carpet beneath his boots began to smoke slightly.

  Crap.

  “Syrin?” My voice jumped an octave.

  He let out a sound that was almost a whimper.

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  I edged closer, half-expecting the air around him to scorch, but it just felt like stepping into a sauna. His light flared again, but it was less red now, more bronze.

  He sucked in a sharp breath and swayed. I lunged forward, catching him before he could hit the floor. His skin was hot, fever-hot, and he was still trembling, but after a moment I felt his muscles loosen against me.

  A cart squeaked in the main aisle; I froze. The shadow creature was gone, but Syrin was still glowing like a lamp.

  “You okay?” I said, trying to keep calm.

  He didn’t answer.

  “Syrin?”

  “I look okay?” he managed, voice ragged.

  “No.”

  “Probably your answer.”

  “Why—”

  “Hard to control it,” he rasped. “Connection’s strained, and… fire’s hard to control on a good day.”

  Faint silver wisps mixed into the copper tone. Was he seriously blaming himself for lack of control here?

  “You did good, Syrin. Really good. You barely burned the door. And no one saw. That’s honestly like my best case scenario.”

  He let out a breath that might have been a laugh or just release. The light around him still flickered, uncertain, before it began to shift to gold, the red fading away. I bit back a chuckle. Was that the way to fix it? Words of affirmation?

  “Very efficient shadow slaying. You deserve ice cream.”

  He took a shaky breath. “Ice cream?”

  I hummed. “Oh, you’ll love it. It’s like horchata, but better.”

  His body seemed to have cooled to about normal temperature now. Touching him didn’t feel dangerous, which was an improvement. The air still smelled faintly of smoke, but his glow was soft again, warm against the mirrored walls.

  “Should we buy the pants now?” he muttered.

  I let out a sharp laugh. “Yeah. Only if you can manage to stop glowing, though.”

  I dragged him to the fitting room he’d been using. At least there was a door there, and he leaned against the wall, while I gathered his stuff up—jeans, belt, another T-shirt, extra pair of joggers, Dad’s old clothes.

  I bit my lip, glancing at him. There was no way I was making him change back into Dad’s hand-me-downs. He still looked like he might collapse, but the glow was almost gone. I’d scan the tags at self-checkout; that would have to work.

  “Will there be problems because I burned the door?” Syrin asked, rubbing his forehead.

  “I have no idea,” I said. Good point, though. Better to get out now. “Think you can stand on your own?”

  He let out a hum. “Probably.”

  Hm. His probably most likely meant, “not really, but I’ll try”, which was not ideal. For all I knew, he’d trip and light up like a Christmas tree. “In that case, let’s not chance it.”

  I wrapped an arm around his waist, and he put his over my shoulder. I tugged him forward. We made our way to the self checkout without a mishap. I scanned everything, then paid with the cash Mom had given me to use until we were sure things were safe.

  Hallelujah for worried Moms. Maybe they wouldn’t track us down for burning the door.

  The ride home wasn’t long, but it felt like hours. The car smelled faintly of smoke now, because I did, and whatever cheap air-freshener Mom had hung from the mirror. Syrin leaned against the window, eyes half-closed. Halfway back, his breathing evened out.

  I blinked. Syrin. Asleep. In a moving metal death trap. Guess exhaustion trumped anxiety. For a second I just watched him, still glowing faintly, and felt a weird mix of pride and worry twist in my stomach.

  Then the light turned green, and I drove.

  I woke him up gently when we reached the house, grabbing the bags and letting him lean on me.

  “Does it always knock you out like this?” I asked quietly.

  He gave a tired chuckle. “No. The light is easy. It’s the control that’s hard. And it’s worse here. I can’t feel it right.” He let out a hum. “Fire’s difficult too. For me, at least. I could heal a hundred people before I was this exhausted.”

  “Is that what you usually do? Heal?” I asked, steadying him as we climbed the steps to the apartment complex.

  He let out another hum. “That’s my job. People come to the Tower, and I heal them. My father has to handle the running the Tower, all the political side as well. I help with that. It’ll be my responsibility eventually, so it’s part of my training, but for the most part… that’s what I do. Heal.”

  He said it like it was obvious, like healing was just breathing. No wonder fire scared him.

  The apartment was silent when we entered. For a second, that scared me. What if that shadow creature wasn’t the only one?

  But then Mom’s bedroom door opened. “How was the—” She froze, gripping the doorframe. “What happened?”

  I felt Syrin tense against me, but his voice was level when he spoke. “Something followed me. Rode my connection to the light here. We got rid of it, but it was… difficult.”

  Mom blinked. “While you were driving?”

  I let out a half gasp, half laugh. Thank goodness it hadn’t been then, if I hadn’t been able to see because of the creepy light that would have been an enormous problem. “No. At Target.”

  “But you handled it,” Mom said.

  Syrin nodded stiffly.

  She took in his exhausted posture. “Trina, help me move the air mattress to my room. Then he can sleep without us disturbing him.”

  Syrin didn’t even protest, which said more about how tired he was than anything else. He curled up on the couch while we moved the mattress, and Mom gathered anything she’d need for work that night. Finally, we got it all squared away. Syrin was out almost instantly. Mom shut the door carefully, and we made our way back to the kitchen. “Spaghetti?” she asked.

  I gave her a weak grin. “Sounds good.”

  I started the water while she gathered materials.

  “What happened, Trina? The whole thing.”

  So, I told her. By the time I finished, the pot was boiling.

  Mom let out a long, shaky breath. “So they may be able to use his magic as a portal.”

  I shrugged. “The shadow thing was pretty wrecked when it got here. I don’t even want to know what that would do to a person.”

  Mom nodded slowly. “Someone’s certainly trying. But you’re right, we probably have time before anything worse gets through. I’ll ask for the next few days off. See if we can’t figure out a way for Syrin to block it.”

  My shoulders sagged. I didn’t need Mom here, exactly, but the idea of her being around was a relief anyway.

  The spaghetti boiled over, hissing against the burner, and for a second, it reminded me of the steam panic earlier. I started stirring and lowered the burner temperature slightly.

  Mom glanced down the hall. “Trina, did he tell you where the other heir is? Did they stay in the city?”

  I froze. “Other heir?”

  Mom nodded. “There’s always two. Heir and a spare sort of thing. It takes a while to bond someone to the Light. The Keeper runs the Tower. They help where needed and oversee defense. The first heir is the heart for the world. They heal anyone who comes to the Tower, regardless of who you are. The second heir is the heart of the city. They heal and bless the people of Crithlinor, going among them.”

  I stared at her. “He told me there were two. In fact, he said there were only ever two.”

  Mom sighed. “He lied.”

  I flinched, and water hissed as some sloshed onto the stove. I quickly pulled the spoon out.

  Mom watched me. “Don’t judge him for it yet, honey. That boy seems honest to a fault. If he lied, it’s because it hurts him. And if your father didn’t mention the other heir at all…”

  I gripped the spoon in my hand tighter. “Then maybe something happened to them.”

  Mom nodded. “It would likely have been a family member. Possibly one of his siblings, unless his mother died before she could conceive again.”

  “He hasn’t said anything else about his mother,” I whispered.

  Mom’s lips quirked. “He doesn’t really seem like the type to share his grief.”

  “No, he doesn’t,” I agreed.

  “Another thing to think about,” Mom said, sliding a bowl of canned marinara into the microwave.

  I just stared at the boiling pasta, stirring it slowly. Way too much to think about, and it just kept coming.