The Amethyst Rift

Every night at midnight, the purple clouds came out to dance with the blushing sky. An unnatural golden light joined with shades of pink, lavender, and a deep blue that hinted at what true midnight should be. The light stretched, like a vibrant river, all the way across the state, from Blackfoot, Montana into Deadwood, South Dakota. In the winter months, when daylight was scarce across the flat plains of Big Horn, it seemed like a gift—a blessing.

But it was a curse. A warning.

Eddie watched the sky from his perch at the top of a cottonwood tree—the only one around for miles. He'd much rather be in the brush below, with Naomi. Actually, he'd rather take her to the movies, or iHop, or a million other places that weren't out in the cold, in a remote part of the Crow Agency.

But that stopped being an option last spring.

The citizens of Billings, Montana, like most of the United States, had long overlooked the existence of magic. They’d been content to lead lives guided by God, or by science, or by the insatiable need brought on by consumer culture. When the Amethyst Sky River appeared, they’d continued on mindlessly, accepting it as a sign that God approved of their lives. At least, until it killed them.

But just outside of Billings lived those, like Eddie, who knew what it truly was. The Crow, Blackfoot, and Cheyenne tribes all remembered the old stories and passed them down from generation to generation, in hopes that the knowledge would never be needed. They knew that the gorgeous sunsets throughout the year—the natural ones that gilded cotton candy clouds—were a constant reminder of the past.

Eddie blinked the sleep from his eyes and rubbed a hand over his jaw, hoping to feel rough stubble that still refused to come in despite turning sixteen several months ago. He checked the time on his phone. Five minutes until midnight. He whistled to Naomi, and she echoed the sound from the brush somewhere below him. The signal spread down the hunting party line.

It was Eddie's fourth night in a row on watch, and while he didn’t mind it in the summer, the autumn brought a biting cold that numbed the tips of his fingers. He rubbed his hands together to warm them; he couldn’t afford to be stiff or sluggish.

All at once, a hush fell over the plain. The rustle of animals in the grass, the hunting cry of the owls, yips of coyotes, and chorus of frogs and crickets all fell silent. For the ranchers and farmers in the outlying areas, it would be enough to make them pick up a gun and stand by the door. For the Crow Tribe, it was a timer ticking down to the most important time of day. When the rift between worlds opened, and the Sky Shadows poured in.

Eddie took up his bow, a slew of obsidian-tipped arrows in a quiver at his back. He would need to be fast, before the Sky Shadows could make it to the ground and put the others in danger. Put Naomi in danger. She was fast, and a great fighter with both spear and dagger, but his need to protect her was real and fierce.

He couldn’t let her die before he found the courage to ask her out on a date.

The sky opened with traditional fanfare—the midnight blue fading into periwinkle as a line of pink, then gold, filtered through the rift. The Amethyst Sky River wound from horizon to horizon, while lavender and lupus clouds rolled out from the split in the world. Every night it was just as beautiful, and Eddie’s breath caught as the clouds shimmered, spilled, and crept through the rosy midnight sky.

Such a gorgeous distraction—the ultimate trick.

A Sky Shadow streaked toward the ground, quick as a diving hawk, but Eddie was faster. His arrow flew true, and a shriek echoed through the night as it passed through the shadow’s darkness. The Sky Shadow's death-cry sent Eddie's heart racing, and all his hair stood on end. Another Shadow dived from the rift, the beginning of a dark torrent. They fell from the sky like a meteor shower of black holes, sucking in all the light around them. Eddie shot arrow after arrow, as quick as he could manage.

Eddie whistled again as the arrows at his back dwindled to nothing, though the hunting party already stood alert. He fired the last one and checked the time on his phone.

Five minutes after midnight. If they could survive three more minutes, the clouds would recede, and the rift would close. He let out a bird call, a three minute warning—a rallying cry—as the Sky Shadows searched for bodies to possess.

He dropped from branch to branch, having memorized the handholds and footholds over the last three months of Nightwatch. Partway down, the branch behind him shook with impact. Eddie turned, reaching for the obsidian blade at his belt, but the Sky Shadow was already lunging for him.

Long claws of smoke stretched forward and slashed down, catching Eddie’s wrist. His skin tore open and he cried out at the icy pain that froze his cut down to the bone. He pushed forward, when all he wanted to do was retreat, and caught the Sky Shadow through its darkest part, shoving the blade clean through as another shriek rent the air.

Between the fear of the unnatural scream and the ice-cold feeling creeping up his arm from his wound, Eddie wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball and hide. Instead, he tucked his knife back into its sheath and continued his descent into battle. He still had ten feet to go when he heard a scream that pierced his soul. He’d recognize it anywhere; had heard it once, months ago, and hoped he’d never have to hear it again.

Because it wasn’t the ear splitting scream of the Sky Shadows.

It was Naomi.