Alice and Her Shadow [short story]
The night was unnaturally quiet when the lanterns along the old bridge flickered out, one by one. A hush swept over the village as if the world itself was holding its breath, waiting for something-or someone-to arrive.
Alice pulled the hood of her cloak lower, hiding her eyes. The crunch of dead leaves beneath her boots was the only sound as she walked into the village. A dog barked once, sharp and warning, before falling silent as though a hand had gripped its throat. Windows shuttered, doors closed, and within moments the street was empty–save for her, and the shadow that trailed two steps behind.
She smiled to herself, knowing he was back there. She kept her eyes forward as she continued walking toward the house with the red door. The paint was chipped and weathered, but the brass knocker gleamed as if freshly polished. She lifted her hand, hesitated just long enough for the shadow to catch up, then rapped three times–the signal they had promised never to use again.
The door creaked open and the man inside grunted for her to get in. He grabbed her elbow, dragging her through the threshold as the shadow slipped in behind her. Inside, the air was thick with smoke and the scent of iron. Candles burned low on a table scattered with maps and blood-stained parchment. The man’s voice rasped, “You shouldn’t have come back here–especially not with him.”
“We need your help, Balthazar. They’re after every shadow in the kingdom—” Alice pulled the hood from her head, icy white curls unfurling around her shoulders. “I’m not ready to be rid of him yet…”
Balthazar’s jaw tightened, his fingers absently tracing a pale scar along his arm–the mark of one who had bartered with shadows before. The thing at her heels shifted, no longer quite a shadow but not quite a man, and whispered her name with a voice like wind through cracked glass.
Alice turned, her pale blue eyes glimmering in the candlelight. I know I can save him, she thought fiercely, before turning back to her mentor. “You can have my blood. I’ll do whatever it takes to save him.” Her voice trembled, but she ripped the sleeve of her cloak back to reveal her milky skin.
Balthazar pressed an obsidian blade to her arm, but stopped short. “Debt is a chain, girl,” he rasped. “And once it wraps around you, there is no pulling free.” The shadow shuddered, its true face flickering for a heartbeat–eyes she remembered, a smile she thought she’d lost forever.
“Please,” she whispered, pressing her arm into the blade. A prick of crimson bloomed, brighter than any ruby. The room darkened, the air dying as her blood fell onto the maps, lines blackening and crawling like smoke. The shadow lunged, swallowing the drop in silence, then exhaled, reshaping into something almost human.
Balthazar wiped his hand on his robe. “Then the bargain is struck–rememer, child, bargains take what they will, not what you offer.”
Alice looked at him through her tears. “Thank you, old friend.”
Before Balthazar could answer, the shadow–now man–lunged, piercing his heart with a dagger sharp enough to split bone. Balthazar staggered, blood pooling beneath him. His gaze found Alice's sorrow in place of anger. “You’ve saved him,” he rasped, “but doomed yourself.” Then he fell, the candles guttering as if mourning his final breath.
Alice bent to pick up the parchment maps. “Come now, Simon. We have a lot of work to do.” With a snap of her fingers the room melted away, and the two walked into a barren snowscape. Snow whipped across the plain, stinging Alice’s cheeks as she tucked the maps into her cloak. Simon walked beside her, his footprints shallow.
Through the white storm rose a fortress of black stone, marked with the sigil of the order that hunted them. Alice sensed the magic barrier and veered toward the forest where her cabin lay. Hopefully Groter, her house-fairy, had the fire running. She was desperate for a hot cup of tea.
Branches clawed at her cloak as the crooked cabin came into view, smoke curling from its chimney. Relief loosened her shoulders—until she saw three sets of footprints already leading to her door. Simon circled to the back, peering through the frost. Inside, a figure lounged in her chair, boots propped on the hearth, two shadows at their side.
“We’re not alone,” Simon wanted. “And they were waiting for you.”
Alice squared her shoulders and strode to the door. She banged her boots against the frame, then shoved the door wide with a cackle. “Minerva…how lovely.”
Her sister leaned forward, pale eyes glittering. “Alice. Still dragging ghosts into my kingdom? Tell me–did Balthazar scream when he died?”
Alice sneered, unbuttoning her cloak and flitting the maps behind her to Simon. “Oh Minverva, why would you ask me a thing like that?”
Minerva rose, skirts whispering. “Because I like to imagine it.” Her smile never reached her eyes. “You’ve traded blood for shadow, dear sister. Do you even know what you’ve unleashed?”
“Nothing you haven’t already.” Alice pulled the kettle from its perch. “Tea?”
Minerva laughed. “Poison me in my own game? How quaint.” She sat, hand on her dagger, while Simon melted into the shadows, folding the maps into the in-between where none could touch them.
Alice poured steaming cups, the vapor coiling between them like a serpent. “You always did enjoy theatrics.”
“And you,” Minerva whispered, “always did enjoy losing.”
Alice raised her tea, clicking her tongue. Simon moved faster than the guards, seizing Minerva’s head, ready to snap her neck. The guards’ blades of shade glinted at Alice, but she only chuckled as Minerva struggled. “I am done losing.”
Minerva gasped, clawing at Simon’s grip as the guards faltered, their blades flickering into the in-between. Alice set her cup down calmly. “You killed Balthazar, and you will answer for it—but not today. Leave, while I still let you.”
But then Alice’s cruel smile split her face. “You think I answer to you? Oh Minerva–you have no idea what I traded for Simon.”
For the first time, doubt cracked Minerva’s icy composure. Shadows writhed at Alice’s feet, bowing to her will. Simon’s grip grew steadier, his devotion absolute.
“Then tell me,” Minerva hissed, “what happens when the thing you traded for begins to hunger?”
“I’ll feed it.” Alice leaned close, breath hot against her sister’s cheek. “I’m no longer scared of the dark.”
The hearth roared, shadows bending toward her. Minerva’s lips curled into a trembling smile. “Then, dear sister…you’ve finally become one of us.”
