Shadow Kissed 03 - Shadowman

only partially illuminated. The Escher effect again. Inky darkness crawled up the west wing so that not even the windows reflected the morning. The other part of the building looked solid, lightening with the rising sun.
    The sight tugged at her mind, as it had that day when she’d come to snap a photo of Talia Thorne. Something was off about the building. Something wrong, dangerous. It made her feel as if she were small and exposed while a massive, violent storm hung on the horizon, but on a horizon line that Layla did not understand.
    This was exactly what she’d been talking about with Talia.
    Squeezing her eyes shut, she concentrated on relaxing. On breathing.
    All her life she’d fought these kinds of visions. She’d pushed them into the back of her mind and had gotten along just fine. Well, mostly fine. She paid her rent. Got an education. And she had a story to report. If she focused on that, the fever in her heart would quiet.
    She opened her eyes and the shadow on the building pulsed. Grasped.
    Which made Layla gulp hard. Somewhere inside that building, Talia was playing with her children.
    â€œDon’t worry, Ms. Mathews,” Kev said. “We’re almost there.”
    She should tell them, just in case. These people dealt with scary crap every day—angels and fae and Shadow and who knew what else. They might even already know the darkness was there and weren’t worried about it. After all, Khan used Shadow for his magic, and what was that thing on Segue but a great big shadow?
    Or maybe . . . She might not be able to paint like Kathleen, but she had the same ability to see . And once in a while she could capture what she saw on film.
    Dr. Patel, a couple of male nurses, and a stretcher were waiting for her at the rear of the building. A massive loading dock was open for their convenience, and Kev stopped there.
    She shuffled out of the jeep on her own.
    â€œI’m not getting on that thing,” Layla said, as she passed the stretcher. She left Patel no choice but to lead her through the underfloors of Segue to wherever he was going to look at her calf, which stung fiercely, but was in no way life-threatening. Though the ceilings were low, the corridors were modern, sleek, and white, a startling counterpoint to the restoration on the main floors. Offices and lab space were off to each side. They went through sliding doors to a small clinic.
    Zoe was waiting there, irritation communicated in every tense muscle of her body. She pointedly ignored Layla with a hostile drag of her gaze to Patel. “I thought you were coming up.”
    â€œI’m sorry,” he said, professional despite her demanding tone. “We had an emergency.”
    Zoe jacked a thumb Layla’s way. “Her?”
    â€œYes, and I’ll need to take a look at Ms. Mathews’s injuries before I can see Abigail.” Dr. Patel gestured to a screen partition. Layla assumed an examination table was on the other side. “In the meantime, I can send one of the nurses.”
    â€œI don’t want a nurse. I want you. Right now,” Zoe said. “And you’re wasting your time with Ms. Mathews. She’s going to die anyway. Abigail’s seen it.”
    Which was the last straw. Zoe was mean, but Layla suddenly felt a whole lot meaner. “I’m not going to die. Not now, not ever. Got it?”
    Took a sec for the “not ever” to sound stupid.
    Zoe was already laughing in her face. “There are forces at work here that you can’t even imagine.” To Dr. Patel she said, “Look. Abigail can’t keep anything down. It’s been twenty-four hours. Twenty-four and a half with”—Zoe tilted her head toward Layla—“ her drama.”
    â€œMs. Mathews, if you will please . . .”
    My drama? Layla had just dodged death for the fifth time in twenty-four hours. And apparently, she was destined to die any second now. A little drama was warranted. And as for forces beyond her imagination, if someone would loan her a camera, she’d show them something that would make them squeak but good.
    â€œI’ll be up shortly,” Dr. Patel repeated to Zoe, pulling the screen open.
    Sure enough, a stainless steel table waited. Layla used her arms to lift herself up, then scooted to lie on her side. Her scratches did not need this much attention.
    The clinic door whisked open, and Talia walked in, her gaze dark with worry. “What