Chapter Three
Shadow Hunters
(From draft 7, 8/1/2025)
Run, some small frightened voice inside Fable’s mind screamed, but she couldn’t. Images and sounds ran through her mind, fear pulsing through her in electric waves. Reflexively, her hand went to her pendant, gripping it like a lifeline.
She couldn’t leave without her parents—no, she wouldn’t leave without her parents. Fable quickly grabbed her father’s discarded jackknife, then ducked under the dining room table, heart pounding.
The sound of footsteps clomped upstairs.
Run.
She gripped the knife tighter, looking up at the ceiling, listening to the sound of the feet above her. Two different voices came from upstairs. She couldn’t understand them, but they were deep and unfamiliar.
Her mind went numb. They found us.
Footsteps clomped down the stairs. Fable felt her body tense, and she looked towards the door. She couldn’t make it in time. Heart pounding, she scurried from under the table, ducking behind an island that separated the small kitchen from the living room. Crouching low, she peered out from behind the counter and watched the two Shadow Hunters entered the front room, cutting Fable’s path to the door off. The bulkier one grunted something, then pointed at the front door.
Fable felt her insides freeze.
The door was open.
I’m an idiot! It had been closed when she had come home, and she left it open.
The men drew two bulky handguns and turned back into the room. Fable ducked down, trying to control her breathing. She desperately wished she had a gun of her own—instead of just her father’s knife.
“Come out, little girl, we not hurt you,” one of the men called in a thick accent that rivaled her dad’s.
“Your parents miss you,” the other man called, his voice also thick with an accent. “We bring you to them. They will be very happy.”
“No fear,” the deeper voice called. “Our leader wants you all at his big party. You will be guests of honor.”
The larger man's bulky frame spun around the island's corner. Screaming, Fable threw up a frying pan just as he shot off one of his guns. The projectile pinged off of it, and Fable bolted.
The two men shouted at each other, coordinating their moves and trapping Fable into a corner. “You want to see your mommy and daddy again, yes?” the smaller one asked.
Fable held up the knife, her heart thundering as they closed in, their guns pointed at her.
“Where are my parents?” She squeaked out.
“Don’t worry,” the smaller man said, an oily smile crossing his face. “They live.” They took a step closer.
“Stay back!” Fable shouted, her voice higher than she would have liked. Her hand holding the knife shook.
“Drop the knife, you will be fine,” the smaller man cooed.
Gritting her teeth, Fable tossed her frying pan at the smaller man. The larger man fired his gun. A sharp sting hit Fable in the side. Startled, she fell back. Electricity raced through her body, but it didn't hurt. Wasn’t it supposed to hurt? If anything, it felt like she had more energy.
Their guns were Tasers. A surge of hope blossomed in Fable’s chest. They were trying to take her alive.
Ignoring the barbed Taser round lodged in her side, Fable bolted for the front door, electricity racing through her. The smaller man jumped in front of her, holding up his taser gun. Instinct took over. With a shout of effort, Fable swung her heavily laden backpack at him. It collided with the smaller man, knocking him down. Shouldering her bag, Fable ran.
Fable burst through the open door and raced down the long driveway, heart hammering in her chest.
Where do I go? She thought desperately. I need help!
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the strangely lit street lamp pulse hypnotically. It was calling to her, beckoning her. Despite the danger, a sense of calm flooded through Fable.
Her fear washed away.
“Stop!” One of the men cried.
Dazed by the light, Fable glanced back at her pursuers. The larger man was racing towards her, a real gun in his hand.
She stumbled backward, her backpack bumping against the lamppost. A warmth swept over Fable’s body. She could feel it running through her, filling her with a sensation she didn’t understand. She looked at her hands, her eyes widening.
She was glowing.
The intensely blue light emanating from the lamppost felt like it was pulling Fable toward it. Dreamily, she reached towards the light. A loud shot from the gun went off, but Fable was no longer afraid. Just as another shot blasted out, a flash of blinding white light flared across Fable’s vision.
Her attackers were gone.
Her house was gone.
Everything was gone.
Fable was gone.