The Book Of Shade (Shadeborn 1)

The

Book

Of

Shade

Shadeborn: Volume One

by

K. C. Finn

Copyright © 2014 Kimberley Finn

All rights reserved.

F
oreword

This novel has been epic for me in more than one way, and it has seen a lot of struggles and hardships since its characters first graced the pages of print. I would like to thank the readers that were there the first time round, and my family and close friends who have supported me in the process of this mighty resurrection. May this story rise as a phoenix for you, dear reader, and flutter its way to nest within your heart

P
ROLOGUE

All she knew was earth. Earth crumbling in to make the black dream blacker. Earth between her toes, enveloping them, pulling her sinking body into the shadows beneath her feet. Earth that surrounded her, turning her light brown hair to the colour of the grave. It was damp and frozen as it caked her skin, like she was in some great dark sinkhole, the way back to the surface getting farther and farther from her as she strove for it. Her hands would not move in the way that she commanded to scoop or climb or even push the dirt from gathering at her face. It always gathered there to cloud her view, to choke her, to fill her senses until there was nothing at all left to feel.

It is, perhaps, the worst part of a nightmare when the sufferer begins to realise that they are not awake. She had had this dream before and it always finished the same way. The earth would make it to her throat and clamp it shut, leaving her to wake in the fleeting seconds before her dream-self died. She fought it every time, knowing that there was a real world out there that she was part of, and that thoughts of being swallowed whole by these great black mounds of terra firma were nothing but a disturbed fantasy that she somehow couldn’t shake.

In the darkness of the dream, something white flashed. It wasn’t unusual for her to see apparitions in the earth before it killed her, but this one was more of a blur than usual. The colours rotated in the flash, white, then black, then blue, with no discernible shape. The flash was there, for a few seconds at a time, until the earth finally forced its crushing pressure to her trachea, claiming her for her inevitable, terrifying fate. But then a hand took her shoulder, and that was something new. The dream was changing.

Her body shook, in that blurred unfeeling way that it does in dreams, until the earth had receded to leave her floating in a black space. The sensation of gentle waves arrived, rising from her feet until she was swimming in the nothingness. This was all well. She could swim until she woke. The white something flashed again, as bright as lightning, and she swam towards it, her dream-weight so feather-light that she chased it with ease. In her pursuit of the light, the waves were getting bigger, crashing into her from strange angles that didn’t make sense to the tide. Soon the water was all around her, the weight of it far greater than the heavy earth that had been its predecessor.

It was happening again. The crush of the new element took her by surprise and her mouth fell open, only to be filled with the cold and somehow thick volume of liquid. She tried to spit it out, but her jaw now refused to obey. Her hands and feet flailed uselessly as the water took its own path, coursing like a river down her windpipe to overfill her lungs. The agony of her throbbing chest was unbearable; it felt as though her ribs would break from the sheer strain. The white something flashed once more, now a very long way away as she floated in the dark, her eyes struggling to remain open as the dream once again claimed her for dead.

She woke with a gasp that disturbed several other people sitting around her and shrunk embarrassedly into her seat. She clamped a hand over her heart to calm down from the ridiculous nightmare. The fluorescent lights above and the monotonous chug-a-chug motion below told her that she was not in the blackness any more. A few things ran to the front of her mind to make themselves known.

Get it together, Lily Coltrane.

You’re here, you’re alive and you’re fine.

Stop being such a chicken.

It was just a dream.

Lily’s heart gradually slowed to its regular rhythm. She took herself in by the reflection in the dark train window with a horrified gasp. Her light brown hair was a total bird’s nest, one that she instantly set to work calming down. Her cheeks were rosy from her impromptu nap, her almond eyes narrow and puffed up. Lily rubbed her face all over in a desperate attempt to force herself to full consciousness, as far away from the nightmare as she could possibly get. With a hasty motion, she reapplied her smudged lip gloss and fluffed up her hair, hoping to get away with a ‘hot mess’ kind of look if she met any of her future classmates when she reached Piketon Station.

She checked herself out again, sighing. The ‘mess’ part was accurate, at least.

A
UGUST

Freshers

She’d had a tenner in her pocket to save herself the hassle of lugging a suitcase through the town, but the taxi to her dorm had cost nearly fifteen quid.
In the red already: good start.
Lily grumbled as she strode quickly out of the block, her yellow dolly shoes scratching like sandpaper against the cheap lino floor. She emerged into a cloudy afternoon and onto a patch of grass between a hell of a lot of buildings. Her head spun as she gazed around, trying to take in their names. She walked purposefully out into the centre of the grass quad, pulling her phone from her pocket and tapping madly at the screen to wake it from its slumber.

Maps were not usually her friend, much less computerised ones. The phone itself was perfectly capable of loading the street-map service and, for any other person that tried it, it usually did. But when Lily touched the screen, it always flickered and fitted like it had suddenly forgotten how to perform all basic functions. She shook the mistreated phone, like she always did when it wouldn’t play ball, eventually letting loose at it with a tirade of abuse pent up from the daylight robbery of the rip-off merchant who had driven her taxi.

“Stupid thing!” she exclaimed, giving the flickering screen another shake. “All I want is to know the way to West Park Hall. But that’s too hard for you, isn’t it? Piece of junk!”

“West Park Hall? I have a map somewhere!”

Lily looked up to see a girl her age had joined her on the grass during her rant. She was about to say, ‘No, that’s okay’, so that she could escape before her face turned Man United red with awkwardness, but this new girl was already fumbling in her bag for the information. Lily watched the process of her cheerful-yet-frantic search with a small smile; using the time she had available to figure the girl out.

She was Indian, with curly black hair to her shoulders that was enviably shiny. The ringlets fell about her heart-shaped face, swaying to and fro as she explored the unreachable depths of her brand new Vans backpack, peering into it with brown eyes far darker than Lily’s own. Those eyes were framed with a pair of stylish Gok Wan glasses, but on the girl’s wrist was a tatty old sweatband bearing the anarchy ‘A’ of the punk movement. She wore denim on denim, a jacket and jeans, which was, as far as Lily was concerned, a cardinal sin, yet the silky top underneath the jacket was seriously cute. Lily had just reached the sight of the girl’s battered red Converse when she finally pulled a handful of crumpled paper from her bag. The girl smiled the warmest smile in the world in triumph, and Lily couldn’t help but decide that her weird fashion ensemble suited her fantastically well.

“I’m Jazzy, by the way,” said the grinning girl, “Jazmine Dama.”

“Lily Coltrane.” She gave the other girl a nod.

Jazzy’s mouth dropped open a little. “Hang on!”

She was suddenly back in her bag, only this time her previous upturn had left the rest of her ruined papers on the surface. She fished out a green sheet and waved it at Lily until she took it.

“Look, look!” she urged. “L. Coltrane. That’s you right? We’re roomies! Did you just drop your stuff off?”

She was still asking multiple questions as Lily scanned the paper. Jazzy had all the registration details that she needed to get, but at least now she knew her room number for when she got back to the luggage storage room.
Lucky 13. Aren’t you starting off well?
Lily looked up at Jazzy and smiled patiently until she stopped talking. The Indian girl gave an awkward little smile.

“Sorry,” she said. “I get nervous.”

“No, really?” Lily asked, then she clapped a hand on the other girl’s shoulder and gave her the green sheet back. “We’re going to be cool, you and me. Best roommates ever. So chill and help me find this hall to register.”

Jazzy was visibly calmer as she uncrumpled the map.

During the endless line of boring queues at registration, Lily became yet more impressed with the cheerful bag of nerves that was Jazzy Dama. She waited in line with Lily again, even though she’d already done her details and got all her forms, talking her head off about all the possibilities that the University of Piketon offered. Most of the ones Jazzy mentioned were academic; she was clearly not the sports and recreation type, or not yet at least. She was a kind girl who didn’t know much about making friends the casual way, but Lily preferred that in a roomie than some crazed party girl who’d be bringing a different bloke back every night, and hanging her bra on the bedroom door. All the nightmarish visions of what her roommate might have been had slowly faded away, leaving her this short, shy girl with a winning smile and a mouth that didn’t stop moving.

I can live with that.

Jazzy was wickedly indecisive about pretty much everything on the planet, so Lily made the move and demanded that they go straight to the Freshers’ Fair to check out all the allegedly-amazing opportunities that awaited them. With the help of Lily’s pristine new version of the campus map, they were able to walk with ease into what felt like a huge marketplace full of colourful banners and people shouting over others to be heard. There were a lot of sports teams in the first section, which the girls agreed to avoid, weaving through a herd of sweaty basketball players until they came upon the social section.

“Coming to Guttersnipes girls?” someone said from a nearby table. “Best student club in town, and a permanent drink discount for Pike U cardholders.”

Guttersnipes wasn’t the most appealing name, but the photo-board next to the hawker did show a pretty nice looking club with various shots of happy students, drunk out of their minds, filling the foreground.

“Are you much of drinker?” Jazzy asked as they looked at the board. Her nerves were back again.

Lily shook her head. “Not after living with my mother,” she exclaimed with an eyeroll. “She’s proper strict. I haven’t got the taste for booze.”

“Yet,” said the man minding the stall.

He winked at Lily, and for the first time, she really took in his slimy smile and dodgy eighties jacket. Taking Jazzy by the arm, Lily backed away casually with the idea of looking at another stall. They bypassed the free STD testing without anyone handing them a plastic bottle, and giggled all the way to the academic section, where Jazzy broke free of Lily’s grip to suddenly point at everything like an excited toddler at the zoo. The collection of academic pursuits was fairly impressive, and much bigger than the other sections. The stall-minders here were working really hard to drum up interest and get people involved. Neon coloured leaflets were being distributed all over the place with short simple titles to grab you before you could escape:
Chess Team, Book Club, Bridget Jones Society, Harry Potter Nerds Unite.

“This place has everything,” Jazzy said with a juvenile sense of wonder.

Lily chuckled at her. “Let’s go then, head first into the middle of the fray.”

As soon as they were into the mass of students and tables, a series of lime green leaflets filled Lily’s vision. Usually Lily ignored leaflet givers, largely because it meant not having to clean out her handbag quite so often, but the owner of these luminous sheets was nothing short of an Adonis. Tall and tanned from a summer spent somewhere that was definitely not England, the young man’s shaggy blonde hair fell into his sea-green eyes with a carefree flop. He grinned with spotlessly white teeth and there was a cheeky quirk in his lip as his large, masculine hand passed Lily one of the garish flyers.

“Do you like books girls?” he asked.

“Actually I do,” Lily answered, surprised that this veritable stud would have anything to do with reading.

“I love books!” Jazzy exclaimed, pinching the flyer and setting it out for them both to examine. “Ooh! The Illustrious Minds Literary Society.”

“Sounds posh,” Lily remarked with a grin. She looked up to find that the good looking boy was still eyeing her with the same toothy smile as before. A strand of hair fell down into her face and she pulled it back slowly, letting only the smallest of smiles creep onto her lips.
Expert flirtatious move executed there, even if I do say so myself.

“Oh it’s proper posh,” the boy replied with a nod. “Been going over a hundred years. We’ve got a budget and everything.”

“How about that?” Lily said to Jazzy, giving her a wry look.

The cute guy grinned again. “No, I mean we get socials, like trips and stuff. It’s not just sitting in a room talking about books, although we do that too, once a week up at the Tower Block.”

He pointed to a very tall building, the roof of which poked out from behind some others in the middle distance which were incredibly similar. Lily glanced in the direction briefly, not entirely sure what she was looking at, but when she looked back, she found the boy had shifted a little closer to her. He handed her another leaflet, this time from the bottom of the pile. The motion of handing it over was specific and slow, so much so that Lily raised an eyebrow at him.

“You should come along to the Newbie Meet tomorrow,” he purred, flicking his perfect hair away from his face with a little jerk. “Tell them Michael sent you.”

Lily put on a little pout. “I might do,” she replied. “Come on Jaz, let’s see what else there is to join.”

Jazzy followed absent-mindedly, still engrossed in all the other text on the society’s leaflet. When they were far enough away, however, the girls both paused to glance back at the studly Michael, who was now handing out more leaflets to other girls passing by.

“He well fancied you,” Jazzy giggled. Lily mulled the fact over for a moment, making her friend frown. “Do you not like him?”

“We’ll see,” Lily said casually, but she broke into a wide grin as they walked away.