Sue vox's Arc

Chapter 3 of 6

The trap held, but the dog would not settle. Sue sat on the floor, watching the specimen's black eyes. The whisper was inside the glass now. She had won. Then the dog stood again. It paced the workshop, red eyes burning, claws clicking on the boards. Its bony flank brushed the bench leg. The specimen rocked. A thread of a crack ran through the wax on the left eye. Sue's stomach dropped. "No. Stay down." She held out one hand, slow, the way she calmed nervous animals. The dog swung its head toward her and growled. It smelled the shadow still. It wanted to finish what it had chased for weeks. Its shoulder knocked the bench again. The specimen slid an inch toward the edge. If it fell, the glass would crack, and eleven years would spill onto the floor. The shop door scraped open. Cold air rushed in. A scruffy man stepped through, a sandwich board over his chest, the boards scrawled with warnings in black. Theo. Her brother. He had told her weeks ago how the shadow moved through reflections. His voice was hoarse and flat. "Move the specimen," he said. "Now. Off the bench." "The dog will take it if I reach." Sue's hands shook. "Then give it something worse to want." Theo dug in his coat and pulled out a clear glass jar with a fitted lid. He knelt and set the jar on the floor, on its side, mouth toward the dog. The glass caught the lamplight. A small bright circle bloomed on the boards. The dog froze. Its red eyes locked on the shine. It stalked toward the jar, hackles high, forgetting the bench. Sue understood. The shadow hungered for any reflection. The dog hunted the shadow. The bright glass pulled them both. "Go," Theo said. Sue lunged. She grabbed the specimen with both arms and dragged it off the bench, against her chest. The head thumped her collarbone. The cracked wax held. She stumbled back to the far wall and slid down with the specimen in her lap. The dog reached the jar. It snapped at the shine, jaws closing on empty glass. The lid popped loose and rolled. The dog bit again, again, tearing at a light it could not catch. Then it whined, low and lost, and lay down beside the jar. The red faded from its eyes to a dull ember. Sue breathed. The specimen was safe in her arms, eyes dark and full. But the glass jar lay open on the floor, a bare shine no wax now covered. She had none left. And Theo stood over it, staring, his mouth already moving. "Something's coming through that," he said. "Not tonight. Soon." He did not soften it. "You can't seal it with nothing." Sue looked at the open jar. She had trapped one shadow. She had just made a door for the next.