by Ainsley Shay
“Shit,” I muttered, and stormed out of the bathroom.
I found a loose-fitting T-shirt and leggings, then got dressed. After drying my hair, I put it in a bun on top of my head. The book Isla had given me, Legends of Veil Rock, was on my nightstand. I begged the universe to let there be clear answers in those pages. The book was heavier than I remembered. I set it on the bed, staring at it for a minute while I found the bravery to open the dark, worn cover.
I flipped through the pages. It was a collaboration of stories, myths, drawings, assumptions, maps, and the belief that magic was real. That was all it took to be intrigued. Taking the deepest breath I had ever taken in my life, I flipped past the copyright, dedication, introduction, and prologue. Because really… who read those? I caught a group of pages between my fingers, then turned them over.
Page 98: Mermaids: Rulers of the Seas
A crude drawing of a mermaid with fangs and a not-so-nice expression, very unlike Ariel in The Little Mermaid, was at the top of chapter sixteen. The creature was fierce. And I had no doubt if she did exist, she would have no problem ruling the oceans that spanned from continent to continent.
I flipped another chunk of pages, landing on the last page of a chapter. So I turned over one yellowing page.
Page 146: Shifters: Tame to Wild
A drawing of a crow took up one whole page. Its black wings stretched over the width of it. The text went on to describe a woman who was able to shift into a crow. Several pages later, it described a woman who metamorphosed into a wolf.
Turning the book over, I made sure I had read the title correctly. Yep, Legend of Veil Rock. When would the author actually talk about Veil Rock? This was more like a paranormal boxed set. My shoulders sagged in disappointment. I leaned my head against the headboard, trying again to see if anything helpful lay in the pages ahead.
Page 212: Vampires: The Masters of Darkness
Vampires had always been a fascination for most paranormal readers like myself, so reading about a history—that may or may not have happened—had my head spinning. And kind of hoping they were real. I skimmed through the chapter. The only picture capturing the species was of a female with long hair, fangs, and nails like talons. If they were real, I hoped I never ran into her. I was hoping for one who was more along the lines of a good-looking, well-dressed hot guy.
“Wait a minute…” Something was off. None of the paranormal creatures had been depicted as men. What was up with that? Weren’t men usually the ones profiled in books? Especially ancient ones like this—men, men, and more men, with the woman shown as victims. But this was the complete opposite. Having no immediate answers, I turned to another random section in the book.
Page 324: The Artisans of the Elements.
Four symbols—water, wind, earth, and fire—were sketched at the top of the page. Hoping to find at least one of the answers I was searching for—such as how the candles suddenly blew out or why the mini cyclone occurred near the dock—I started reading.
These beings were created last. They were his hope to making his plan come together perfectly. And they did. At least that was what he thought at the time…
Skim… “Blah… blah… blah…”
Skim… “Nothing here.”
Skim… “Ahh, here we go.”
The Artisan of Water.
The first he created was the Artisan of Water. It was with the purest water from the volcano, Mount Vesi. The Creator used a girl who was found swimming in the rivers near the volcano, drops of his own blood, and the hypnotic words of a spell.
Hence… she was created to manipulate water.
The book went on to describe what she was capable of and how the author perceived her to look and act. Pure and without fault. I skipped to the next Artisan, earth. There was a picture of a pendant. The description read… The Ammolite stone is only found in a small region of the world. Its iridescent opal-like qualities differ in their colors. While the opal is in muted shades of pinks and pastels, the Ammolite is of the primary colors—reds, greens, and blues.
I’d never seen one, but they sounded beautiful. The black-and-white drawing didn’t do the stone justice. The one shown in the picture was held in what seemed to be metal by four prongs, then looped at the top at the top in an intricate pattern.
I was so lost. This was a book I needed to start reading from the beginning. I thought it was going to be more like a reference of sorts, but the little bit I had skimmed over was part of a larger story. But about who? And why? I thought I’d be reading about settlers and their history of voodoo-like magic. But this was vastly different. It hadn’t mentioned Veil Rock in any of the sections, only mythical creatures. I couldn’t figure out what it had to do with the mark on my cheek, the wind thing, or my bracelet.
Riffling through the next few pages, I found The Artisan of Air. Those few words trapped the breath in my chest.
I heard the front door open and close. For whatever reason, I slammed the book shut and shoved it under my pillow. Even though I wasn’t doing anything wrong, I felt like the book was a neon sign for what was happening to me.
“Ev—you here?”
“Hi, Aunt Juju. Be out in a sec.”
Despite what the preacher said about my mark, I found the concealer in my makeup bag and applied it liberally over my cheek. The insecure feeling in my gut did not disappear with the mark. It felt like a million shards of glass slicing me from the inside out. Putting on a happy face, I went into the kitchen.
“Hey, you! Can you believe that wicked storm that came through?” She shook her head. “It was the craziest thing I’d ever seen, raining on the desert side of Blood Bird’s Way, but not the ocean side. Made no sense at all.”
Taking items out of paper bags, she set them on the counter. “I tried calling you to check if you were okay, but it went straight to voice mail.”
My phone had died, and I never took the time to recharge it. I didn’t want to check any of the social sites to see what my friends were doing; I didn’t feel like texting any of them either. What would I tell them anyway? My school was the home of the aye-aye’s, I lived in a cottage in the forest, and I may possibly be able to create wind. I didn’t think so. For now, it felt better to let them think I dropped off the face of the planet.
9
Still self-conscious about the mark, I tried to keep the left side of my face angled away from my aunt. I wondered about the preacher’s mark and why it looked different than mine. Were there others besides us? I shook away the thought. I needed something normal to think about or do. “Anything I can help with?” I asked.
“Sure, start chopping those veggies.” Aunt Juju pointed to a heap of fresh vegetables. “We’re having Chinese, if that’s all right by you.”
I was so famished I’d eat a can of cold soup and be happy. “Sounds perfect.” I decided against telling her about the near collision with the semi. It would only worry her, and besides, I was fine. I might have nightmares about getting plowed over by a Mack truck, but that would be the worst of it.
I chopped carrots, celery, water chestnuts, and bok choy. She washed the chicken, then cut it into small chunks. The oil in the skillet began to sizzle. Was it possible my aunt really did know how to cook? The pot with water began to boil, and she added the rice.
“Aunt Juju?”
“Yes?”
“Have you ever taken the boat tour that goes out to Veil Rock?”
She nodded as she swallowed the piece of carrot she had popped into her mouth. “A long time ago.”
“Is it worth seeing?”
“If you’re into that sort of thing.”
“What sort of thing?”
“Bumpy boat rides, Holst chattering up a storm as he drones on telling you everything he knows about the town of Veil Rock, and the rock itself. It’s a giant monstrosity in the middle of the ocean. Well, I say the middle of the ocean, but you can still see land when you’re near it.”
“What’s in it?”
&n
bsp; “In it? If you’re asking me, I don’t think there’s anything. But others swear there’s a laboratory or something in there.” She scratched her nose. “But that’s hard to believe, don’t you think? A science lab on a rock in the ocean?”
It did sound preposterous. A myth made up to draw in tourists? I wondered if the book I was reading earlier had any information on it, or if it was just about the town itself. I slid the veggies off the cutting board into the frying pan. “I met Mina, Captain Holst’s daughter. She seems nice.”
“I don’t know much about her, but her daddy can be quite the charmer when he’s not drinking.”
I recalled the way he was with the tourists. He seemed nice, and like he took his job seriously.
The gas stove flared as she shook the pan back and forth, shifting and turning its contents. The dish towel fell from the hook above, floating directly toward the flame. I only thought about it flying off to the side, but it jerked to the side and fell onto the counter instead.
“What the?” Aunt Juju held her hand over her heart. “My, that was close.” She let out a huge breath of air. “I thought I was going to have to run and get the fire extinguisher from the pantry.” Short pants continued to rush in and out of her lungs as she tried to catch her breath.
My head was spinning with what had just went down. Had I done that? I tried to remember the exact moment the towel fell, and how I immediately jerked my head to the side as if willing the towel away from the fire. I wanted a replay, but I wasn’t about to reenact the almost-disastrous accident.
She begun stirring the veggies again, moved the rice to the back burner, and turned off the gas. “I do believe dinner is ready.” She spooned the rice onto the plates, then heaped the chicken and veggies over it. Soy sauce, garlic, and ginger wafted over to me. It smelled amazing. “I will admit, dear, that this is a treat. As you can see, I’m not good in the kitchen. It has never been my favorite room, nor will it ever be.”
I laughed. “I can cook a little because of Dad. He’s the real chef in the house. If he didn’t cook, we usually ate cereal or pasta with jarred sauce for dinner.” The recollection of helping him in the kitchen kicked me back into a short burst of memories. I saddened at the thought, suddenly missing him a lot.
“You okay?”
I snapped out of memory lane. “Yeah. Yeah. I’m fine.” I smiled. After I brought the plates to the table, I sat in one of the green chairs. Dang, my butt was sore from taking the fall to avoid getting hit by a Mack truck. I wasn’t usually one to place blame, but I was blaming that one on the preacher.
Aunt Juju sat across from me. She picked up her fork, then set it down. “Everly…” She placed her hand over mine, “Will you do me a favor? Please keep your phone charged and with you. If you need anything, or if like tonight when I wanted to know you were okay, I can get in touch with you.”
I smiled reassuringly. “Sure.”
Dinner was good, and the conversation was easy. After we cleaned up, I went into my room and dug my phone out of my bag. The charger was in the top draw of the nightstand. I plugged it in. The screen lit up and came to life. Shrieking when I saw the missed notifications, I swiped them all away except for the missed calls. I scrolled through them, hoping to see one from my parents. But the only ones were from friends back home, my aunt, and an unknown number. The area code was the same as my aunt’s, so they had to be from Veil Rock. But no one here besides my aunt and Isla had my number.
Again, curiosity reared its ugly head. I pressed the call back button. It rang several times before a guy answered.
“Hello?”
Without saying a word, I immediately ended the call.
Why would Cameron be calling me? I pictured him lying in his bed playing video games or something. “Okay—stop right there! You do not need to be picturing Cameron Hunt doing anything,” I chastised myself. “We are only co-workers, and part-time ones at that. Besides, he’s with Hartley-bitch, and even if he wasn’t, I don’t have the time or the patience to get involved with anyone right now. And, above all, my life here is temporary.”
My silent phone buzzed next to me. I jolted at the vibration against my leg. The number on the caller I.D. was Cameron’s.
“What could you possibly want?” I asked the buzzing phone.
The persistent buzz revved up my interest despite me trying to negate it. I picked up the phone, cautiously sliding over the answer button. “Hello?”
“A little rude… don’t you think? Calling and hanging up like that.”
Regret overcame me. Balling my free hand into a fist, I hit the pillow. Stupid inquiring mind. “You called me first. What do you want, Cameron?”
He cleared his throat. “Actually, Isla wanted me to call to see if you were okay.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” I blurted. But then a thought occurred to me—maybe Isla had some weird vision of me, if she had them at all.
“I saw you riding your bike home in the storm, and had mentioned it to her.”
I was hoping no one had seen me. But in this town, that would be a small miracle. “Yep, I’m alive and well.”
“She’ll be happy to know that.”
We were silent for a few beats, and I thought he had hung up. Then he asked, “How are you doing getting caught up with physics?”
“Fine. It’s one of my easier subjects.”
“Easier? What else do you take? Organic chemistry and philosophy?”
I laughed. “No, and I don’t plan to. At least not soon.”
“So what’s your secret?”
“Secret? I don’t have any; the formulas just come easy to me.” I thought back to my first day of class. “But Mr. Greer said you were the one to go to if I needed help.”
“That’s because I spend a ton of time trying to learn it. I get it, but it doesn’t come easy.”
Picking at my thumbnail, I carefully thought about my next words. “Well, if you need help, let me know. Maybe if I show you a few tricks I learned, it may save you some time.”
Without hesitation, he said, “I may take you up on that.”
“Cam, is that Everly you’re speaking with?” I heard Isla ask in the background.
“Yeah,” he called back. “She was as wet as a drowned rat. Other than that, she’s fine.”
“Hey!” I yelled into the phone.
Cameron laughed. It was rich and deep. “I’m joking. But I bet I was right.”
I couldn’t deny it. “Yeah, I was soaked and freezing.”
He went quiet before, almost hesitatingly, saying, “Listen, next time you need a ride, let me know.”
Awkward emotions drummed up inside me. This would have been one of those moments I would have twirled my bracelet around my wrist. I missed having it there. Cameron was being nice—not jerk-nice, but sincerely nice. “Thanks.”
After we said our goodbyes, we hung up. I turned off the lamp, then laid down. The light from down the hall glowed a faint yellow. Aunt Juju’s door clicked softly. The house was quiet except for subtle hums and creaks.
One by one, my muscles relaxed. Slowly, I fell into a trance-like state. Thought by thought, my head cleared itself of the day’s events. The last thing I remembered before I drifted off were Preacher Macias’ words… That bracelet is your only protection from those who seek you.
That would be the first of many nights my dreams were haunted by monsters and otherworldly creatures.
Thank you, Preacher Macias.
10
There was a hollowness in my chest when I woke. I opened the top drawer of the nightstand, then pulled out my bracelet. The glass bead was cool and comforting between my fingers. Closing my eyes, I tried to feel the magic and power within. I felt nothing except the smooth stone under my thumb. What had Macias meant when he said he’d made it? He had something to do with magic, and I wanted to find out what it was. Even though I had a ton of homework to catch up on, I got dressed to go into work. I hoped Isla would be forthcoming with what I wanted to know. If
not, I’d have to resort to other means—like snooping, stalking, and possibly kidnapping. Okay, now I was getting carried away. At least with the kidnapping part.
My aunt’s door was closed, and I assumed she was still sleeping since it was only eight in the morning on a Sunday. Not knowing her plans for the day, I took the bike to Carousel and left the car in the driveway.
The neighborhood was quiet and still as I rode down Cat’s Claw Court. The storm from the previous day had left the morning air crisp and cool. I was glad I’d brought my sweatshirt. Pulling off to the side of the street, I untied it from around my waist and pulled it over my head. Sometime in the early morning, newspapers had been tossed onto driveways and lawns. I glanced down to read the bold heading next to my foot. STORM BROUGHT MORE THAN RAIN.
Curious, I picked up the wrapped paper.
“Hey!”
I swiftly turned toward the house. The horrendous shade of green it was painted caught my attention before I noticed the man standing on the stoop in his pajama bottoms and a white wife-beater tank.
“Go steal someone else’s paper,” he yelled as he came toward me.
I held it out to him. “I’m not stealing yours or anyone else’s.”
He grabbed the paper from my hand. “Well…” He shooed me onward. “Be on your way then.”
I nodded. “I hope you have a wonderful day, sir, and life is more than kind to you.” Kill them with kindness… right?
“Whatever,” he muttered as he stomped away, slamming the brown door of his pickle-colored house behind him.
I pushed off with my foot and rode away thinking, not about P.J. pickle man, but the headline. What else had the storm brought? My mind sputtered with nonsensical ideas. It had to be my imagination screwing with me from all this magic crap swimming in my head. None of which I was sure was even real.
Blood Bird’s Way was void of any cars. Grateful, I rode down its center to Carousel. My hair was free from clips or ties, and it felt amazing floating behind me. I dared to take my hands off the handlebars. The front tire wobbled a fraction, but then stilled and steadied itself. I was thrilled I could still do it. It had been years since I’d been on a bike before I came here, much less tried tricks on one.
