by E. E. Holmes
Catriona narrowed her eyes at me, but didn’t argue. Annabelle let out a long, low groan of relief as she cut the last of the ropes away. Catriona helped her to her feet and held on to her arm to steady her as she stretched and massaged some feeling back into her—well, my—limbs. Once she had relieved some of her physical discomfort, though, she turned back to me, tense as ever. “What’s next?” Annabelle asked.
“Let’s get back into our own bodies,” I said. “If we do it quickly, there’s still a chance we can get out of here without the Travelers ever discovering that you’re a Walker.”
Catriona looked between us, mystified. “You mean they caught you both, arrested you, and imprisoned you without ever realizing you’re occupying each other’s bodies?”
“Yes,” I said. “I still can’t believe it myself. Do you still have the Soul Catchers?” I asked Annabelle.
She shook her head despairingly. “No. I’m sorry, Jess. I tried to hide them, but that Caomhnóir ambushed me. He took the Soul Catchers and the Casting bag, too.”
“It’s okay,” I told her, even as I fought back my own panic. It would be so much harder to move effectively back through the woods still blundering around in an unfamiliar body.
“I guess it’s a good thing I brought these, then,” Catriona said, holding up a fistful of tangled woven bracelets. I gasped in shock as I recognized the familiar patterns and colors of Soul Catchers.
“What… how did you…?” I murmured weakly, holding out my hand and allowing Catriona to drop one of the bracelets into my shaking fingers.
Catriona heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Honestly, it’s as though you think me incompetent at my own job. What else would I bring when tracking a Walker to the place where she once learned how to Walk?” Then she turned and handed a Soul Catcher to Annabelle, letting out a snort of incredulous laughter. “Although, I didn’t realize I was tracking two Walkers, so the fact that I’ve got enough for both of you is sheer bloody luck.”
Knowing that we could be discovered at any moment, Annabelle and I worked quickly, tying on the Soul Catchers and borrowing Catriona’s blade to cut through them when we slipped out of each other’s bodies. The sense of relief I felt soaring up above Annabelle’s body was astronomically more satisfying than the relief I felt slipping the bonds of my own. Her body had been as close to a prison as I had ever experienced—a constant state of psychic discomfort and sensory confusion. It was with definite reluctance that I faced the prospect of returning to my own body, lying empty now upon the floor of the wagon. It took several seconds of grappling with logic and memory until I was able to convince myself that returning again to my own body would not be the torturous experience that occupying Annabelle’s body had been. I forced myself to remember Irina and the way she had detested and scorned the very idea of entering any body at all, even her own. It was, in part, my fear of embracing Irina’s madness that cleared my mind and ultimately forced my decision to rejoin with my body.
The first breath with body and soul rejoined was like an awakening. Every sense was on fire with the ferocity of the returned sensation. By the time I had recovered from the overwhelming shock of it all and focused myself on my surroundings again, I found Catriona with her back pressed to the wall of the wagon, and Annabelle gasping on all fours trying desperately to regain her bearings.
“That was… intense to watch,” Catriona managed after a few moments. “Are you both quite well?”
“I… I think so,” Annabelle gasped. She looked up and caught my eye, grinning. “But I’m never occupying such hostile territory again.”
I found it quite easy to grin back, glad to have full control over a body again. “Hey, now. I am an impeccable host. I’m thinking of listing this bitch on Airbnb. Single guests only, no pets.”
Annabelle collapsed in a fit of exhaustion-induced laughter, but Catriona broke in impatiently. “As much as I appreciate this kind of niche humor, can we save the jokes for another time? We really need to focus on getting out of here.”
“Right,” I said, rising awkwardly to my feet but, once there, finding myself quite steady. “You’re right. Sorry. What do we do now? What’s the game plan?”
“I’m not sure I have a game plan,” Catriona admitted. “This entire night has been an exercise in my improvisation skills. Don’t let my genius at such exercises fool you. We’ll need to think on our feet to get out of here.”
“Okay, you’re the boss,” I said. “You managed to get in here without getting caught, which is more than I can say for the two of us, even with our insider knowledge of the camp, so we’ll take our lead from you.”
Catriona closed her eyes and held up one hand. At first, I thought she was doing something of a mystical, Durupinen nature—reaching out through her spirit connection or trying to sense one Casting or another. But, instead, she muttered. “Give me a moment to savor this complete lack of insubordination on your part.”
Given as she’d just likely saved both of our lives, I swallowed my snark and let her have her requested moment. Then she opened her eyes. “Okay. I think our best bet is to move out of the grove on the west side. I can communicate the coordinates to the car, and they can meet us on the border. I can cross it without setting off the Castings, but once you do the same, we’ll only have a minute or two before we have Caomhnóir on our trail, and I’d prefer to be several miles down the road by the time that happens.”
“Communicate back to the car?” I asked. “But who—”
“Let’s not waste any more time,” Catriona hissed. “I don’t know how long we’ve got before Sleeping Beauty over there wakes up.” She hitched her thumb over her shoulder where the Caomhnóir she’d attacked still lay motionless in the grass.
As quietly as we could, we dropped to the ground in front of the wagon, bypassing the old and rotting steps and running at a crouch to the far side of the wagon, so that we could no longer see the fallen Caomhnóir, nor the path that led back to the main encampment. Thankful for the cloud cover that kept the clearing protected from the searchlight brightness of the full moon, we darted into the trees and made for the border of the grove.
It was very slow going. Every snap of a twig caused us to freeze in terror for several moments. Catriona, for all her expertise, was definitely on edge. I’d never seen her so jumpy, and we’d been in some pretty tense situations together. Annabelle and I hung back, letting her choose the path through the trees, grateful to be moving in a much more coordinated manner, rather than the drunken stumbling that was all I’d been able to manage in Annabelle’s skin.
We all seemed to be holding our breath, waiting for the inevitable echoing cry of “Escape!” or “Guardian down!” or something similar that would raise the alarm and turn the forest into a minefield of potential enemies, but no such shouts reached our ears. I could have cried at the realization that the trees were beginning to thin, that the road was nearly within sight.
Catriona stopped to huddle over her phone, texting our coordinates so that the car would meet us when we exited the woods. She turned back to us, fingers to her lips. “When you see the car approach, don’t hesitate—run straight for it and jump in the back seat. We are no less safe in the open beyond the border than we are here in the woods—we will be exposed, and Traveler jurisdiction will permit them to attack the vehicle if they witness a violation of their laws in progress.”
Annabelle and I nodded. Another snap of a twig and a flutter of wings caused me to clamp my hand down over my mouth to stifle a scream, but it was only a crow, shooting up through the canopy and bursting like the negative of a firework against the night sky.
When at last we broke through the remaining fringe of trees, it was barely a second before the hum of an engine and the glow of headlights rolled into view, temporarily blinding us after the gloom of the forest. As the car—one of the Caomhnóir SUVs, by the look of it—pulled up beside us, Catriona turned to me, took me by both shoulders and said, “Don’t freak out.”
“Freak out? Why would I…?”
“Get in, losers,” came a familiar velvety voice from the darkened interior.
I turned to Catriona, eyes wide. “What the ever-loving fuck is Lucida doing here?”
“It’s a long story,” she said. “I’ll explain when we’re safely on the freeway. Just get in the bloody car.”
Still stammering and spluttering, I hurried after Annabelle, who flung the car door open, and slid into the backseat beside her. It wasn’t until Annabelle had put her seatbelt on and heaved a huge sigh of relief that she realized who was in the driver’s seat.
“What the hell? What the HELL?” she cried, her voice rising in a shriek. She fumbled around in the dark for her seatbelt, as though she were going to leap from the vehicle.
“Annabelle,” I cried. “Annabelle, it’s okay!”
But it was not okay, and Catriona should have realized it. The last time Annabelle had seen Lucida, Lucida had been working with the Necromancers. The Necromancers had broken into Annabelle’s apartment and tortured her for the better part of a week, leaving her hidden in plain sight within the confines of a cage made of dismembered spirit fragments. The last Annabelle had known of Lucida was discovering that she had been in on that plot. It took every ounce of strength in my body to keep Annabelle seated and to force her to look me in the eyes.
“Annabelle, look at me. LOOK AT ME,” I commanded.
As Annabelle’s eyes found mine, her animal terror sharpened into rage. “Jessica Ballard, what in the name of all that is holy am I doing riding in a car driven by that woman?!”
“I have no idea, but you have to trust that everything is going to be—”
“Trust? TRUST?!” Annabelle positively shrieked. “Jessica, so help me God—”
“Okay, okay, I know, but I’m not asking you to trust her!” I cried. “Trust me, okay? Just… just trust me! That’s it! You can do that, right?”
Both Lucida and Catriona were staring tensely into the rearview mirror. Annabelle looked, for a split second, like she was about to tell me that she absolutely could not do that, and that I was insane for even asking her, but then she held my gaze for a moment, and I felt her body relax slightly, settling back into the seat. Her hands pulled away from the seatbelt buckle, folding instead into a white-knuckled ball in her lap.
“Yeah,” she said quietly. “Yeah, I can do that. For right now, I can do that.”
I nodded encouragingly at her but left my hand on her shoulder as a physical reminder of what she had promised me. Then I looked up into the rearview mirror and nodded at Lucida and Catriona, both of whom looked visibly relieved that we weren’t going to have to physically restrain Annabelle from exiting the car. Catriona wrenched the Caomhnóir hood from her head, shook out her hair as though it had been suffocating, and murmured, “Get us back to the freeway. We can figure out our next move from there.”
“You’re the boss, boss,” Lucida replied, pulling deftly out into the middle of the road, easing onto the gas to accelerate while avoiding the screeching of tires and revving of engines that typified a getaway.
Catriona then turned to me. “What is our next move? What in the hell is happening?”
I opened my mouth to answer her, not sure what I was going to say. The truth was, I had no idea what to do next. No idea where to go. I needed time. Time to think, time to—
“LOOK OUT!” Annabelle screamed, pointing out the windshield.
Every face turned in time to see a woman’s figure standing in the middle of the road, arm outstretched as though she could stop the oncoming car with the sheer power of the gesture. Lucida slammed her foot down on the brake, at the same time veering wildly to the right to avoid mowing the woman down. We narrowly missed a massive oak tree and came to rest in a ditch so deep that I slid straight across the back seat and pinned Annabelle to the car door.
“Everyone all right?” Catriona called at once, to which there was a grumbling chorus of assent. Catriona turned, kicked her door open, and hoisted herself out of the car, which lurched awkwardly at the weight shift. Then she reached a hand in and pulled Lucida from the driver’s seat before heaving my door open and pulling first me and then Annabelle up onto the road.
They all started to examine the car, but I stepped further out onto the road, peering into the gloom for the woman who had caused us to crash. As my eyes adjusted, the figure strode forward through the fog, her expression as cool and unruffled as though she had daily brushes with death.
It was Ileana.
I squashed an impulse to run. Run where? She owned these woods and they were crawling with her Caomhnóir. One word from her, and we’d have the whole lot of them descend upon us—I was shocked she wasn’t surrounded by a small army of them already. But no, she approached me as a solitary figure, coming to a stop just a few feet away. Defiantly, I stood my ground. Just behind me, I heard Catriona and the others whispering, having finally realized who we had nearly hit.
“Jess…” It was Catriona’s tense voice that broke the silence.
“It’s okay,” I replied, with more certainty than I felt. “Let me talk to her.”
“But—”
“Just… give me a second, okay?” I hissed, looking over my shoulder at her. “Please.”
Catriona bit her lip but nodded. Annabelle hovered beside her, shifting nervously from one foot to the other, her teeth chattering with cold and fear. Lucida skulked back in the shadows near the car. She had surreptitiously scooped up a large, broken branch from the ground and was wielding it in her hand like a weapon, clearly ready to fight our way out of the situation.
Having no weapon but my big fat mouth, I prayed I could talk our way out of this mess.
It was Ileana who spoke first, though.
“It was you, wasn’t it?”
I mulled this over. “You’ll have to be more specific,” I answered at last. “I like to know exactly what it is I’m being accused of before I take full credit.”
“The Dormant spoke the words to me, but it was you, wasn’t it? You were meant to be the messenger.”
“What messenger?”
“The one who was tasked to find me. The one into whose ears the words were spoken: the Sentinels have begun their watch. It was you, wasn’t it?” Ileana asked, her teeth clenched.
I threw a glance back at Annabelle, who seemed to be making a motion like she wanted me to come back to the car. I tried to smile at her, to reassure her that everything was fine, even though it most likely wasn’t fine at all. I turned back to Ileana. “Yes. That message was given to me,” I told her.
Ileana closed her eyes for a moment, as though these words were some kind of physical blow to be absorbed, the confirmation of a worst fear. “Why did you allow the Dormant to deliver it?”
I swallowed. “You didn’t give me much choice,” I said. “I knew I had to get the message to you, but I was banished from the grounds of the encampment. I thought perhaps, if you heard it from Traveler lips, instead of mine, you might actually listen.”
“The lips of deception from whom truth must spring,” Ileana whispered, the words barely audible in the night’s foggy stillness.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“Those words are mine to fathom, not yours,” Ileana snapped. “Nowhere in the lore of this day did it demand I give everything to you.”
I longed to protest. I didn’t want anything from this woman. Well, okay, that wasn’t entirely true. I wanted her to believe me. I wanted her to act. And it was only now that I came to appreciate exactly how much that would cost her.
“How did you come to hear those words, and how did you know to deliver them to me?” Ileana asked.
“I followed a trail of clues laid out for me by Agnes Isherwood.”
“The Northern Prophetess,” Ileana whispered, eyes wide, her expression almost reverent.
“Yes.”
“How do you know the clues were yours to follow?”
How did I know? Because I’d
somehow time traveled and laid the clues for myself. But there was no way in hell I was telling Ileana that, not if I wanted her to take me seriously. “That is mine to fathom, not yours,” I said, throwing her own words back in her face.
Ileana seemed to swallow back something large and bitter—probably her pride—before continuing to her next question. “What did you find at the end of this trail?”
“The clues made it clear that I had to go Rifting,” I said.
“Rifting?!” Ileana cried indignantly. “You’re not a Traveler, how could you presume to—”
“Hey, I’m not the first Settler to go Rifting and I sure as hell won’t be the last, so if I were you, I’d save the righteous indignation for shit that really matters. Unless I’m very much mistaken, the Durupinen world is basically on fire right now, so let’s keep things in perspective, okay?”
Ileana raised her chin into the air and gestured haughtily for me to continue.
“It was the Tansy Hag who taught Agnes how to do it. I assume,” I said slowly, seeing the look of sudden shock on Ileana’s face, “that you’ve heard of the Tansy Hag?”
“A children’s tale,” Ileana whispered. “An invention of ignorant Settlers, meant to demonize us and frighten people away from our encampments.”
“Yes, but based upon a real woman, a Traveler Durupinen who lived centuries ago, during Agnes’ time. Her spirit is still imprisoned in the deepest bowels of Skye Príosún.”
Ileana’s face went, if possible, still paler. “A Traveler spirit in a Northern príosún? Impossible. This cannot be. It flies in the face of our autonomy—our treaties—our very—”
“Well, it’s true,” I snapped, all patience gone. “When this is all over, I’ll take you there myself if you like, and prove it to you. You can take it up with the Council, not that you seem to treat Traveler prisoners any better here, from what I’ve seen.”
