Shadow Forest- The Complete Series

by Eliza Grace

  The battle cry click-clack sounds once more and I sidestep as a new rock troll appears out of nowhere. This one already has its arms out. Its mouth is also open, and there are two hollow pits where eyes might be.

  And this one holds a spiked club, like Archie described.

  I do not, at all, see the garden gnome resemblance.

  Garden gnomes are supposed to be cute. Red and green pointy hats. Funny grins. Silly little overalls.

  They are not supposed to be sadistic stone snowman that beat you with spiked clubs.

  I kick out as another one tries to attack me. “Get away from me!” I yell. I kick hard enough this time that the stone troll I’m aiming for is knocked apart. I feel triumphant… until I see the stones shake and begin to move towards one another to reassemble. “Guys, I think it’s time to use our advantage of speed!”

  I don’t wait for the guys to answer; I just start high-tailing it away from the fairy circle. I run full-out, feeling the euphoria of running despite the fear in my veins and the danger at my back. When I feel I’m a safe distance away, I stop in my tracks and bend over to set the jar down so that I can hold my knees and dry heave. I’m so glad I was able to keep ahold of the mason jar. I could have dropped it so easily. Hoyt and Jon join me seconds later.

  The sun is falling even lower in the sky, thrusting the woods into increasing shadows. The others will find us soon. I’m sure of that. Turning slowly, I study the forest around me. I try to find something familiar like the two trees that have grown together.

  But nothing looks familiar. I could have run further from the house in my hurry to escape the rock trolls. “Shoot,” I murmur, coming to the realization that without the witchfinder in my head, I don’t exactly know the way home. “I have no idea where we are or how to get home.”

  Hoyt smiles. “Jen is really going to rub this one in.” He walks around me and rummages around in my pack. When he comes back into view, he’s holding the compass.

  I laugh, though in the circumstances there’s really no place for even a modicum of hilarity. “She’s going to be ‘told you so’ city,” I agree.

  Hoyt looks up and around. “The sun’s setting over there,” he points. “That’s West. With the way the sun goes down oriented to your house, then we need to go North-East.” He opens the compass and orients. “Okay, let’s go.”

  Hoyt leads the way and Jon and I follow close behind. I risk a glance at my vampire boy. His expression is unreadable. It often is. I think it’s one of his defense mechanisms. I wish I could give him the happiness he so obviously craves. I hope he gets it someday. We keep moving, pausing every now and then when Jon thinks he hears something with his superhuman senses.

  I feel we walk for hours. The darkness is closing in, the sun sending pink and yellow streaks through the skies. I think of that old sailor adage about pink skies at night being a delight. They’re not though, not in our case. Pink skies at night lead to shadows and fright.

  Finally, I can see the broken length of fence in the distance, the barrier that marks the end of the prison and the beginning of Jen’s land. We are so close, and we’ve been safe so far.

  That’s how it is, isn’t it? When you think you are home free and safe? That is when accidents happen, because your guard is down.

  Too quickly to be natural, the sunset is blotted out and we are plunged into midnight-blackness. I stumble, turning to look up. And I find the great octopus tendrils of obsidian fog reaching down towards us. Jon yells run. Hoyt and I obey. We need to make it to the fence line. It’s so very close.

  As we run, fear builds in my chest. It is there all the time of course—the terror—but I am only greatly aware of it when I am caught in the midst of bad things. I see Hoyt trying to keep hold of the jar that holds our hope with one hand whilst his other hand still holds the compass. Eventually, he abandons the less-important item and crushes the mason container to his chest to better protect it. I am doing the same, holding the mason jar like it is a newborn that needs absolute protection from the world.

  I want to look back and see how close the shadow beasts are, but I force myself not to. Keep running. You’re almost there. You can do this.

  Hoyt leaps like he is bounding over steeplechase jumps during a cross-country event. Jon is already on the other side, but he races back to me with vamp speed. He grabs me by the waist and lifts me off the ground. Next thing I know, he is tossing me through the air towards Hoyt. “Catch her!” Jon yells and I hope to hell Hoyt doesn’t catch me, but sacrifice the potion. I am not as important.

  My body slams into Hoyt who quickly pushes an arm under my body and curls his bicep to hook me by the waist. “I’ve got you, Tilda. You’re fine.”

  I’m breathing heavily, but not from fear now, more from the fact that Jon has just lifted me and tossed me like a paperweight.

  “Start the spell!” Jon yells at us as he boxer moves around the shadow beasts, dodging each tentacle that tries to hit him.

  I look at the fence. We have to repair the broken section first. I throw off my backpack and run forward with the jar. I place it on the ground and I scramble to find anything that I can use to fill the gap in the fence. I gather stones and press them into the soil at the base of the broken posts. I grab sticks and grass and try to weave the gap closed. “This is useless,” I nearly scream in frustration.

  “Hurry up, Tilda!” Jon yells at me. Even supernatural, he cannot keep fighting the shadow beasts.

  I kneel in front of the fence and I think about the time spell. I think that there was once a day when the fence was newly-made and strong. I press my hands against the busted wood and I do my best to remember the exact words of the spell. I call the magic, feel its golden warmth. And I speak.

  “The clock does turn. The world does burn. And I am in the middle.” I know what’s coming this time. I am prepared. “What has been done, I seek undone. And I am in the middle.” I can handle the jarring pain of it. “As it was, before the spell. Reverse the time, so all is well. And I am in the middle.” I keep the image of an unbroken fence in my mind. I hold it there, a wish and a promise.

  I am back on the merry-go-round. The time line appears, broken and confused. The snapshots begin to stream past my eyes. I see the men who built the fence for Elisabeth. I see her standing nearby, lips pursed, planning her prison. Fast forward a decade. The fence is still strong. It contains the creatures, working in tandem with the barrier spell which is still so very potent.

  Eventually, the time line rejoins. I do not know what this will affect. There is no time to worry. Corrupting time in the witchfinder’s lair seems to have come with little consequence, perhaps this will be the same.

  “Hoyt, bring the potion!” I yell, not realizing that Hoyt is stood right behind me, hovering protectively as I have been caught in the throes of magic. He hands me his jar and I set it on the ground with the other one. I uncap them, seeing that the purple ooze is still bubbling, though it has long cooled.

  I lift the first jar and I pour the solution over the perfect extension of fence in front of me. I lift the second jar and I repeat. This part of the fence now glows an unsettling, poisonous shade. I’m ready to say the words. I’m ready to make this right. And then I realize that Jon is still in the forest.

  Standing, I peer across. He is still sparring with the shadows. He’s managed to move them further from the fence. “Jon! Get over here! Hurry!”

  He looks back at me, shaking his head ‘no’.

  “Jon! Now!” I scream. “I’m not doing this unless you’re on this side of the fence!”

  I can almost see him roll his eyes in annoyance, even at this distance. Though, also, I see the slight quirk of his mouth because he’s trying not to smile. He turns and vamp speeds to us, launching himself over the fence and settling in a crouch next to me. “Your wish is my command,” he says quietly. “Now, hurry.”

  The shadows are moving in the sky, casting their darkness on the ground. Their arms extend, reaching further a
nd further as they strain to cross the barrier. I have to hurry.

  I dig the grimoire out of my backpack and I flip open to the pages marked by the black ribbon. The words are not English. God, I hope I say them right. Otherwise it’s going to be like that Bruce Campbell movie in which he’s supposed to say klaatu barada something and ends up mispronouncing it so badly that he releases a bunch of really, really bad crap. I guess I’m ahead of the curve though, seeing as I’ve already released a bunch of monsters. No wrong words required.

  “Ankha-voy Soren-nu Niratu. Ankha-voy Soren-nu Niratu.” I’m worried I’m not strong enough. I have to be though. I have to give it my all. All of my magic. “Ankha-voy Soren-nu Niratu.” I need help. I need another witch.

  As if summoned, I hear my name yelled. I keep my hands against the fence, but I glance back and I see Jen and Archie running at high speed across the meadow. Jen is carrying a flapping piece of paper. Archie has his gun out, pointed down and ready… though it is an absolutely useless tool against the enemy we face.

  The shadow beasts are so close. The tentacles will cross the barrier in minutes.

  Jen arrives, collapsing to her knees and staring at me. She shoves the piece of paper in front of me. “It’s me, Tilda. Not you.”

  Bold marks of charcoal and pastel cover the cream paper. I can make out the shape of the fence and the shadow beasts in the sky. I see two figures knelt on the ground, their hands pressed against the barrier. The one with the ponytail is surrounded by particles. And there are words written across the bottom. They are the chant for the barrier spell.

  “How did you…” I begin to ask, though I know the answer. Jen is a witch.

  “I’m supposed to do this with you, Tilda. I’m the one that…” She brushes her finger across the particles on the paper. “I have to make the sacrifice.”

  My eyes fill with tears and so do hers.

  “You don’t know what that means. You’ll lose your magic. What if it’s how you paint? You’ll lose everything, Jen.”

  “No, I won’t,” Jen says softly, touching my cheek. “Not by a long shot, kid.”

  I nod and I take her hands in mine, giving them a squeeze before I guide her to touch the fence. “Keep repeating the chant, Jen. I’ll help with my magic.”

  Her face is pale, but it’s also determined. Her voice shakes, but there is such strength beneath the tremors that the tears in my eyes begin to streak down my cheeks. “Ankha-voy Soren-nu Niratu. Ankha-voy Soren-nu Niratu.” Jen says the spell, and she keeps saying it over and over. I focus, calling for the magic inside and the magic around us, because I am learning that magic is in each living, breathing thing in this world.

  Gold sparks flame from my hands to join the purple potion. Jen’s power comes alive in a rainbow of color. I wonder if it is her artist or her witch that calls all of the colors to life.

  The shadows slam into an invisible wall that extends from the fence upwards to the heavens. They beat against the barrier spell that is beginning to take root and recreate the prison.

  Jen is still saying the spell. Her body is hunched over. Archie tries to touch her, but I stop him with a shake of my head. I do not know what will happen if this is interrupted. “One more time, Jen,” I whisper encouragingly. “One more time.”

  And she does and on the last syllable of the last word, the rainbows from her hands fade away and she collapses backwards. Archie catches her and lifts her limp body up into his arms. “Jen,” he says gently, shaking her slightly. “Jen?”

  I can see her chest rising and falling. She is alive. She’s fine.

  And we’ve done it. The barrier spell is back in place.

  The shadow beasts slam their tentacles into the invisible cage. Out of the dark woods, hundreds of monsters appear. I see the wolf men from the jail. I see Barry the bigfoot. I see an army of rock trolls rolling slowly around a pack of the Marchosias demons. And then the sirens appear, their hairs waving in the air as if they are underwater.

  They are back where they belong.

  “I can feel it,” Jon doesn’t sound happy. He gestures vaguely. “That’s a strong spell. It makes me want to go back to that hell.”

  “The recipe called for ingredients designed to attract supernaturals. I’m sorry it affects you.”

  He shakes his head gently. “It is a good reminder that I have been given a second chance.”

  We all gather together—me, Hoyt, Jon, Jen, Archie—and we stare across the barrier to the strange monsters.

  Eventually, the sight of them fades away as the barrier spell reaches its full strength. I can feel the tension in the bodies around me fade away like low tide. Out of sight. Out of mind.

  All I wish to do is go back to the house and sleep for a million years.

  Ripples Across Time

  I was warned that messing with time might change things.

  I can’t contain my relief that it is over and I run to the house; the others laugh at my joy. When I enter the little farm house, the first thing I notice are the candles. They are on every surface, their flickering flames casting funny shapes on the walls. Jen wouldn’t put these candles everywhere like this, not knowing my fear of fire.

  Staring at them though, I don’t get the sense of dread I’m used to; they are only candles, nothing to be afraid of. In fact, I don’t exactly recall what it is about candles I don’t like. I’m sure there’s a reason though. There has to be. I give my head a little jerking shake. Was there a fire? I think there must have been a fire somewhere.

  I move into the hallway and find that the shade of paint on the wall is different too.

  I turn back around, heading into the kitchen. The others have entered the house now.

  Jen does not seem like she thinks anything is strange or out of place. Maybe Archie has put out the candles. Maybe she is humoring the man she likes. Curious, I open one of the cabinets where Arianna and her companions had built temporary housing. There are no telltale signs that anything odd has happened next to the dinner plates and soup bowls.

  I remember the fairies.

  Though I do not remember why the fairies were in the house.

  I shake my head again.

  Puzzle pieces are clicking together in my brain, but they are not showing the pattern I think I’m expecting. The image is different. It is like my brain is rewiring, like there is something I must be ready for and I must shift my thinking if I am to reconcile myself within a reality that feels like an ill-fitted glove. I find Jen, who is snuggled up next to Archie. They’re holding hands.

  I blink.

  My gaze studies their hands because there is something different there, something that I don’t believe belongs.

  Archie’s ring finger bears a thin band of gold. Likewise, Jen’s hand sports a small diamond.

  I feel the floor move beneath me; it moves like the ocean. I look down and I see images on the floor, flashing so fast that I only catch glimpses. I see a wedding dress and a bouquet toss. I see my mother and my father and my little brother around a Christmas tree. Only… my brother looks older. Which is impossible. Isn’t it impossible?

  My gaze falls to Jon. I know him. I recognize him. When I smile, he smiles back. But the longer I look at him, the more I am not sure I truly know him. Perhaps it is a trick of the light, but he is flickering in and out of focus. I can’t stop staring, and I should feel embarrassed for gazing at a stranger like that. But I have a right to… why’s a stranger standing in our kitchen anyways?

  “Tilda!” A voice shouts, and I recognize it in a second.

  I turn to see my little brother, who has grown another four inches this year, running down the hall towards me. I hold my arms out for him and he jumps up so that I might catch him. I hug him to me. He smells like Johnson’s baby soap. I love that smell, though he doesn’t because, as he tells Mom every day, he’s not a baby anymore. “I missed you!” I shout. But I think- Why have I missed him so badly? He is right here! I see him every day!

  He hugs me tighter,
then slides his way down out of my grasp.

  The floor is an ocean of waves again. Now the images at my feet float against a dark blue current. The images are still changing, but much slower, and only a few at a time.

  I feel so strange. And yet, I also feel the happiest I’ve ever felt.

  The boy with the crooked smile and skin as pale as moonlight walks towards me. He is blurry, and then not blurry. He is fading. When he is close enough to touch, he leans towards me and kisses me gently on the forehead. I am surprised. He is a stranger. He has kissed me. My fingers go up to brush against my head gently. If he is a stranger, why do the butterflies in my stomach hum to life now?

  Even closer he moves, until he is only inches from me.

  He tilts his head to my ear. “Tilda, it’s okay. The timeline… you’ve manipulated it twice in one day. Something was bound to happen. We couldn’t be so lucky as to escape the ripples of change.”

  “You know my name?” I lift an eyebrow, so confused now. My brother is standing by Jen and Archie. He’s talking and smiling and the sight of him is so wonderful. Again though, I see him every day. Why do I feel like he has been gone from me forever?

  “I do know your name,” the strange boy’s breath is warm against my face, “I know you, Tilda. I know you and I love you. But you have made it so the fence was never in disrepair. You made it strong, dating back to the time it was built by Elisabeth. Without the damaged fence, the witchfinder could not have tempted your mother, nor you. She would not have run away from this place and the memories it held. Everything has changed for you, Tilda. I am so happy. I am so happy and I love you.”

  He kisses me again, this time a gentle press to the lips and I wonder if Hoyt is watching. Does he see this strange boy? Does anyone see this strange boy?