My first thought then was – where the hell was ShadowAspect when I needed him? Why wasn’t Sarasin Shade paying attention? Or was I just expendable. Maybe he was stalking another failing writer at that very moment.
In total darkness with the hood over my head and my hands tied behind my back, two pairs of hands marched me around the corner of the cathedral and away from the meeting place I had arranged with Six.
I heard something speeding down a nearby street and skid to a halt just metres ahead of me. The side door of a transit van slid open and two or three people jumped out.
“Your chariot awaits, Mister Rybak.”
I should have turned and run from the cave as soon as I saw them, as soon as I realised I was writing about dangerous people living in the same world as me. I should have run for safety. But I couldn’t.
I had to stare into the Infinistra. I had to see more stories.
I found myself sitting on the floor next to Sarasin. The longer I watched, the more I was able to see and take in.
Then Arvalane stood with us and pointed to the far left of the Infinistra, in time to see a sleigh drawn by nine reindeer shoot out of a screen of ice. The ancient elf driving it made his way across the screen, appearing in thousands of images over the Infinistra. He was too quick for my eyes to follow. But as I watched, he seemed to slow down, like time itself was slowing down around us.
Eventually ShadowAspect hauled me to my feet and wrenched me away from the Infinistra. The moment my eyes left it, my head swam. The cave span around me. I felt like I wanted to throw up.
I collapsed to my knees and blacked out.
I need food. I haven’t eaten in days. No chance of an expensive takeout and I can’t afford a sugar or carb crash, so it needs to be something quick and healthy.
I haven’t moved since my last post. It’s dark again already. Everything I own sits in heaps on the floor around me. I haven’t found anything. No cameras. No listening devices. No holes in the walls, floors or ceilings. The doors and windows are secure. But someone is watching me. I know they are.
It happened again. I lay awake in bed for hours last night, staring into the darkness. I couldn’t see anything, but I could feel someone’s eyes on me. I turned over and over, trying to ignore it, but it was no use. I was sure I could sense a presence moving about in my flat. I wasn’t alone.
Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. Why did I think another move would make any difference? I haven’t slept in weeks. I can barely think straight. It’s the same as the last place I lived – and the three before that. I just want a good night sleep. I want to write.
It’s been a slow few months. The day job’s been busy. I’ve had to move a few times, which is unfortunate. Just unpacking my things in my new flat now. It’s small, but that works for me in more ways than one. This place is comfortable. It will feed my imagination. I can’t wait to start writing again and get my first book out into the world.