The Shadow Boy and the City of Glass

The knife missed my heart by less than an inch.

Steel sliced through the black fabric of my suit jacket before biting deep into the leather of my office chair. I did not blink. I did not step back. I just looked up into the twisted, sweaty face of my own uncle.

You knew, Uncle Marcus said. His voice shook as he gripped the pearl-handled dagger, trying to shove it through my ribs with all his might. You found the files on the fourth floor, didn't you, Arthur?

My heart beat hard against my ribs, but my face stayed calm. At sixteen, I had learned that panic only gets you killed. I adjusted my posture in the ruined chair, looking up at the man who had raised me since my parents died.

I only wanted to check the quarterly budget, Uncle, I said. My tone was flat and steady. I did not know the family company made its real money by locking people in cages downstairs.

Marcus let out a rough laugh, his eyes wide and wild. He looked less like a respected billionaire and more like a cornered animal fighting for its life. "You are too smart for your own good, boy. Just like your father. And just like him, you are going to die right here in this office before you can tell anyone what you saw.

He pulled the knife back for a second strike.

I did not wait. Years of hiding my true nature behind a quiet, polite smile paid off in a single second. I raised my hand and let loose the power I had kept hidden my whole life. A wave of freezing air rushed from my palm. Frost shot across the polished mahogany desk, and sharp icicles snapped into the air around Marcus's throat.

Marcus gasped, stumbling backward and dropping the knife as the bitter cold bit into his skin. He hit the glass wall of the fifty-eighth floor, his eyes wide with pure shock.

"What are you?" he choked out, staring at the wisps of black shadow curling around my fingers.

Your nephew, I said quietly, standing up from the ruined chair. I smoothed down my suit jacket. The one you should have killed faster.

Before Marcus could answer, the heavy double doors of the office burst open.

A woman stood on the threshold. She wore a sharp gray trench coat, and her blonde hair was tied back in a tight ponytail. She looked angry, sharp, and entirely out of place in a corporate building. In her right hand, bright yellow sparks of electricity crackled and danced across her skin.

Federal Magic Bureau, the woman said. Her voice was like cracking ice. She pointed her hand straight at me, and a bolt of lightning jumped from her fingers, striking the desk inches from my feet and splintering the wood. Arthur Vance, put your hands behind your head right now. You are under arrest for murder and illegal magic use.

I stared at her, my shadow powers flaring up in warning. You have the wrong room. My uncle just tried to kill me.

Your uncle is the head of the magical council's front company, and you are his top asset, the woman said, stepping forward with her eyes locked on mine. My name is Detective Evelyn Cross. And you are coming with me, whether you want to or not."

I am not going anywhere with you, I said. My voice dropped an octave as the shadows in the room grew longer and darker.

Evelyn raised her hand again, ready to unleash another bolt of lightning that would surely drop me where I stood. Marcus watched us both from the floor, a bloody, desperate grin spreading across his face.

Before either of us could move, a deep, heavy sound echoed through the entire skyscraper.

BOOM.

It was not the sound of an explosion. It sounded like a giant bell ringing deep inside the earth. The floor shook so hard that I lost my footing, and Evelyn stumbled against the doorframe, her lightning fizzling out in a shower of useless sparks.

What is that? Evelyn asked over the rising roar, looking toward the wall of windows.

I stepped past the broken desk and looked out the fifty-eighth-floor glass.

Down on the street below, the glittering lights of New York City were changing. Normal cars, yellow cabs, and rushing people vanished behind a wall of heavy, glowing purple light. A massive, dome-shaped shield shot up from the outer edges of Manhattan, racing toward the sky at terrifying speed.

In less than three seconds, the dome slammed shut over the top of the city, sealing the entire island inside a glowing, inescapable purple cage.

Marcus stopped laughing. Evelyn stared out the window with horror in her eyes.

The lockdown, Evelyn whispered, her face going pale. The council did not just trigger an alert. They quarantined the whole city. We are trapped.

I turned away from the window, my mind racing through a dozen different scenarios. My little sister Elena was sitting in a special medical facility just three blocks away. If the city was locked under a magical dome, she was trapped too. And she was sick, or at least, that is what Marcus had always told me.

Detective, I said, my voice turning hard as I looked at the armed cop blocking the exit. Your magic cannot break that dome alone. And my uncle is about to run out the back elevator.

Evelyn looked back at me, her blue eyes narrowing. She hated rule-breakers, and she hated magic users even more. But as the floor shook again and sirens began to wail across the trapped city outside, she made her choice.

She lowered her hand, letting the last of the lightning fade.

If you try to run, Vance, I will fry you, Evelyn said, pulling a pair of heavy iron cuffs from her belt and tossing them at my feet. Put those on. We are getting out of this building together, and then you are going to tell me every single secret your family is hiding.

I picked up the cuffs, feeling the cold metal in my palm, and gave her a thin, dangerous smile.

Deal, I said. Just try to keep up.

We turned toward the hallway, ready to fight our way out of the tower. But as we stepped through the ruined double doors, the lights in the hallway flickered and died. A thick, unnatural fog rolled out from the elevator shafts, smelling of old dust and rotting leaves.

And from the darkness ahead, a low, wet growl echoed down the empty corridor.

Evelyn froze, her hand flying back to her pocket as blue sparks began to dance across her knuckles once more.

That is not a shadow monster, Evelyn breathed, her voice trembling for the first time. That thing... it is waiting for us.