Shadow Mutation (Book Seven) [UNDER MAJOR EDITING]

Chapter 22: Needing Her Help

Before the sun rises, before the streetlamps shut off for the day, Casey wakes and sets out on his mission. He counts himself lucky that New Yorkers love a good, tall building. It keeps the sun away from him and gives him more time to find her.

He wishes she had a phone or a GPS or something. Walking around shouting her name and checking the spots he's seen her in before is starting to get old.

"Shadow?" he calls as he walks. "Yo, Shadow, can we talk? Please?"

Nothing. He keeps checking alleys, calling for her. The sky gets steadily brighter, a timer ticking downwards.

"Look, I want to say sorry! Could you let me do that at least?" he asks.

He feels the chill at his back before her voice reaches him. "You're going to wake up the city if you keep hollering like that, puckhead."

"Shadow!" he cries, whirling around, arms outstretched. There she is, same as always, floating a few inches away. "Yes! I knew you couldn't ignore me forever."

Her eyes narrow. "Just get on with it."

He lets his arms drop to his sides, a few foggy breaths passing his lips. Autumn's comforting coolness has started to set in. "I'm sorry," he says. "You were right. I was clinging to you, but I swear, it wasn't...it wasn't because I think you're pathetic. You're one of the coolest people I've ever met."

She stares at him, arms crossed over her chest, eyes still narrowed. His heart leaps into his throat and he swallows it back down.

"You..." Ugh, he's not good with sappy shit and he's even worse with apologies. "You make me feel alive again, you know? I've been so...so sad, for months, and then I met you and you're just as grumpy and sad as I am, but that's what makes me so happy! You get me! You don't feed me a bunch of bullshit like everyone else and...uh..."

He punches the air a little, starting to fidget back and forth. He had a plan, or at least some idea of what he was going to say. Something about how, ever since his dad died, he's wondered if his survival was a punishment, and that he's imagined what it would have been like if their roles had been reversed.

He doesn't want to die, but a part of him wishes he had been killed.

"You make me feel like I want to be alive," he says, almost whispering, cheeks getting pinker.

She sighs. "You don't have to say all that."

"But I do," he insists. "You need to know how I feel. I don't know what's happened to you since you got mutated, but I'm pretty sure you think everyone's lying to you or trying to use you for something. I'm not lying and the only thing I want from you is to be your friend."

"I don't have friends."

"Because you don't trust anyone! But I want you to trust me, because I trust you!"

She scoffs, although there's a lightness to it that hints at real humour. "You're an idiot," she mumbles, and no one but April has ever said it with such fondness behind it.

"Yeah, I am. Doesn't make me a liar." He takes his bag off his shoulder, digging the soccer ball back out and holding it out to her. "I want to play soccer with you and talk about how much life sucks and everything we miss about how things used to be."

She turns away from him, her always-moving hair following her in a delayed sweep. "You didn't find me just to say all this, did you? Is there more?"

His shoulders sag and he brings the soccer ball to his chest. "We found this warehouse. The Dragons are bringing equipment there and we can't break the code on the only door into the place—"