Despite his best efforts, Julien’s eyes once again magnetised straight to Cinn, who now had a salted pretzel from a food stand in his hand. Cinn glanced up at the sky, and then ran a hand over his brown curls, flicking off the dusting of snow that’d settled there. Julien’s heart leapt. He’d kept Cinn’s green beanie in his bag, carrying it around for the right moment to give it back to him. What did it mean that Cinn hadn’t gone back to wearing his grey beanie? Absolutely nothing, probably. However, if there was ever going to be an opportune time to attempt to give this one back, it was now.
Julien took a half step towards the barrier, then hesitated. If Cinn rejected the hat, or even simply pierced him with those icy-cold eyes like he’d done the day of their fight, that would be the final nail in the coffin for his poor broken heart.
But the more he studied Cinn—the light pink splotches on his cheeks, the subtle duck to his head, the slight distance he’d put between himself and the group he was with—the more his pull became irresistible.
“I’m going to go talk to him,” announced Julien. “This is ridiculous. He doesn’t even look like he’s enjoying hanging with those guys.”
Elliot chuckled. “He looks fine to me. But I’ll admit to missing the dude. So, go make up already.”
Turning to Darcy, Julien found her unsure. Her head flicked between Julien and across the street. “Why don’t all three of us go over, and then it will make it a bit more casual?”
At the next lull in the performance procession, Julien ducked under the tape barrier and darted across the road, followed closely by Darcy and Elliot. Eric’s pointed glare at Julien as they approached did not inspire the casual aesthetic they were aiming for. He ignored Eric and focused entirely on reaching Cinn, who bit into his lip as soon as he noticed their appearance.
Julien rehearsed his opening lines:Hey, how have you been? Did you read my letter? Your head looks cold, and I just happen to have had your hat in my bag for the last two weeks.
However, when Julien stumbled to a stop a handful of steps away from him, every word in his vocabulary vanished as he was confronted with the intricate blend of emotions manifesting in Cinn’s expressive gaze.
Julien opened his mouth to say something, which was seeming highly likely to be a nonsensical babble ofI’m an idiotmixed withI miss you so much,when the first scream sounded.
The sharp noise cut through the festive atmosphere, a discordant note against the enchanting melody the band was playing. The lanterns that were being held within the crowd flickered, as if nervous.
A ripple of apprehension shot through the parade watchers, and Julien’s stomach lurched. The previously joyful parade sounds curdled into a symphony of hurried footsteps and anguished whispers.
Something was wrong.
Lunging for Cinn, Julien gripped his arm tightly, which prompted a fierce scowl. “I think—”
The air itself seemed to constrict, as if a vacuum had formed, stealing away any shred of warmth to create an icy chill. Every lantern dimmed to a feeble flicker. Shadows elongated, contorting into grotesque shapes that danced eerily across the snow-covered ground.
An uncanny hush fell over the crowd. And then, emerging from the heart of the parade, an umbraphage materialised like a phantom fromthe shadows, its form twisting and pulsating with malevolent energy. Inky tendrils unfolded, reaching hungrily toward a gasping crowd that immediately fell backwards in a collective rush.
Elliot swore, pushing Darcy behind him as Julien did the same to Cinn.
“Your wristband, Cinn,” Darcy shouted. “Don’t let it burn you again.”
“It’s already off.”
Abruptly, a swarm of people stampeded in from their left, their faces etched with terror as they weaved through the panicking crowd. Julien caught a cry over the raucous noise. “There’s two more near St. Caelum’s!”
“You guys go,” said Elliot to the three of them. “Quickly.”
Julien clasped his shoulder and gave him a look that he hoped communicated volumes before Elliot launched himself into the fray of gendarmes that had already joined the fight.
Julien turned to usher Darcy and Cinn forward.
Or at least, he tried to.
“Wait.” Cinn held his ground, staring at the umbraphage, eyebrows drawn together in intense concentration. He pressed a finger to his temple. “I can…feelit.Feelthem.”
Julien grabbed a fistful of Cinn’s coat, tugging him in the opposite direction. “What?” he snapped. “That doesn’t matter right now. We need to go.”
Darcy quite vocally agreed with him, her panicked voice reaching a shrill peak.
“Hold on,” spat Cinn, his tense body resisting Julien’s efforts to drag him away. “I feel like I could… I could…”
Julien didn’t hold back his noise of exasperation.
Darcy’s eyes shot saucer-wide. She pointed behind Julien. “Another!”
