Winging It

by Deborah Cooke

  ‘Do you think you can get the book from Jared?’ Liam asked. ‘That might tell us something about Mages and other shifters.’

  I was skeptical that it would, doubly skeptical that he’d let it go. ‘I’ll try, but he’s told me that he’s not giving it up.’

  ‘There has to be someplace else we can get some answers,’ Nick said. ‘I don’t like waiting on chance.’

  That was when I knew. The answer was in the dark, at the bottom of the well. Urd might not be a looker, but she’d pushed me down there for my own good.

  Just the way her sister, Verdandi, had given me the rune stone last spring, knowing I would need it.

  For something.

  Trusting them and my dreams was key.

  I knew what I had to do. I didn’t like it, but I knew there was no other choice.

  I needed to go back into that dream and go down the well.

  By choice.

  It was a Wyvern thing.

  Meagan was finishing her piano practice when I got back to the town house. We hung out as I read the message from my mom. My mom was doing all right, or at least she wanted me to believe as much. She still hadn’t mentioned my dad.

  Meagan and I tried to decide if that was important to the ultimate resolution, but we were interrupted when she got a call on her messenger. I grimaced as she crowed to Jessica about completing her math homework first. She told her about the concert in glowing terms, and I couldn’t help but notice how easily they talked.

  Like I wasn’t even there.

  Then Meagan chatted to Jessica about potential Pyr candidates among the guys at school. Apparently they agreed about Derek having a dark secret – it was in his eyes. I never saw anything much in his eyes, but no one was asking me.

  I went to the fridge, feeling a bit forgotten.

  ‘Your mom called,’ Meagan’s mom said as she came into the kitchen with a magazine. She pulled out a stool and sat down.

  ‘My mom called you?’ I nearly hit my head on the freezer door, I straightened so fast.

  ‘She wanted to make sure you were staying out of trouble.’

  I smiled, mentally adjusting my halo. ‘Pretty much.’

  Meagan’s mom smiled. ‘That’s what I told her, that there was nothing to worry about.’

  She started to read her magazine again and I was turning away, but then I stopped. ‘Mrs. Jameson?’

  ‘Mm-hmm?’

  ‘How did she sound?’

  Meagan’s mom glanced up. ‘What do you mean?’

  I shrugged. ‘You know. Happy? Sad?’

  Wildly in love?

  Ready to return home?

  In the act of filing for divorce?

  I didn’t say any of those things, but Meagan’s mom smiled a little, as if she’d heard them. ‘She sounded’ – she flipped a page of the magazine absently, as if searching for the right word, then smiled at me – ‘cautiously optimistic.’

  I decided to take that as progress.

  ‘Good. Thanks.’

  Meagan was walking through the intricacies of a math proof with Jessica. I figured I’d better do some of my own homework. I drained my juice, rinsed the glass, then headed for Meagan’s room to get the backpack I’d left there.

  ‘I’ll do a visioning for your mother tonight, Zoë,’ Meagan’s mom called after me. ‘Just a gesture of goodwill.’

  I stopped, then glanced back. My mom rolls her eyes whenever Meagan or her mom talks about her mom being a vision counselor. I wasn’t so sure. I’d been a bit spooked that Kohana had shown up the first time after Meagan had done a visioning session for me in the spring, and I wasn’t quite so skeptical anymore. Who knew what Mrs Jameson could conjure up? ‘That’s very nice of you. Thanks.’

  Her lips tightened, as if she’d heard my uncertainty and was a bit offended by it. ‘You know, Zoë, the future doesn’t have to happen by accident or by chance. And the thing is, if a woman can’t imagine a future with a man, then nothing he says or does can persuade her to be with him. She needs to be able to see that future in order for it to be a possibility at all.’

  I stared at her for a long moment, then swallowed. ‘That makes sense.’ I headed to Meagan’s room, my thoughts churning.

  Mrs Jameson had given me an idea.

  Sending visions was supposed to be part of the Wyvern’s arsenal. I’d forgotten that, maybe because I hadn’t shown much promise in that department just yet. But somehow I had to send a vision to my mom before it was too late.

  If it wasn’t already too late.

  First things first – a visit to Urd.

  * * *

  I crashed early, unable to concentrate on my homework. Meagan had hers done already and was easy to convince about going to bed early. She’d been power-yawning all day after our late night out.

  Her parents, I’m sure, thought we were being responsible.

  I was jumpy as I settled into bed, terrified of what I might see. Was Urd Death in disguise? The skull head certainly wasn’t a reassuring detail. Did that mean I would die if I went back down that well? Could I even get there from Meagan’s room? What would happen when I hit the bottom of the well?

  It was hard to imagine that it would be anything good.

  We said our good nights and I heard Meagan fall asleep almost right away. I could smell her toothpaste – she used a lot, making sure her teeth were superclean around her braces – and fabric softener from the sheets.

  I took a deep breath, hoped for the best, and closed my eyes.

  I’m not sure how much time had passed before I shivered. I reached for an extra blanket instinctively, then knew.

  I opened my left eye to find snow drifting over the bed.

  Holy frick.

  It was happening again.

  This dream could recur forty million times and it would still freak me out each and every time.

  I rolled over, terrified. Granny was knitting snowdrifts busily, her sister motionless beside her. Like an angel of death. Not much of an angel, really. A skeleton of death.

  With a drop spindle that whirled and whirled, spinning yarn.

  I tried to keep calm and walk through the dream exactly the same way as I had before. Urd silenced me with a finger; she introduced herself and her sister; she conjured my ring out of the air.

  I shouted and lunged for her, just as I had before.

  She threw the ring down the well and we struggled. I knew when the fabric would tear and I would see her face, but still the sight shocked me. Then she flung me down the well, just as she had the last time, and I was falling to the eerie echo of her laughter.

  So far, so good. (Relatively speaking.)

  I swallowed and braced myself for a disgusting and painful landing.

  But no. The air changed. There was suddenly a powerful updraft, one that didn’t stink. It slowed my descent, as if I was a feather. I landed on my feet, as easily as that.

  And the inky water that had pooled at the bottom of the well? It was a black mirror of ice. I stood on it, astonished, and saw the white orb of Urd’s face reflected in it from far above.

  Like a moon shining down the well.

  Until she smiled and I saw the green flick of her snake-tongue.

  I jerked and looked up, way up, but she moved away. I heard something metal clang into place, like a manhole cover, just as I was plunged into complete darkness.

  The prospect of finding my ring seemed a bit slim.

  The mirror of ice cracked beneath my feet then and I felt cold water lap against my bare feet. Which way should I run? Where would it be safe? Could I run without falling through the ice?

  Just then, just when I thought things couldn’t get worse, I heard the sound of a match being struck.

  I spun to face the flickering light. A guy held the match aloft while it sputtered, the light touching his face. He looked like one of my mom’s grad students, a little bit scruffy, maybe thirty years old. Sandy hair. The kind of person you’d walk right past without a second look.


  He smiled and waved with his other hand. ‘Hey, sis,’ he said and then he swore as the match sputtered. I saw the glowing tip as he tossed the match in the water and heard it sizzle on impact.

  Sis?

  Holy shit. Urd had tossed me into the land of the dead.

  Sigmund lit another match, but this time, he used it to light a candle. ‘You’re going to want to get off that ice,’ he said. ‘No telling how deep the well water is, and there’s nobody who can save you if you go under.’

  ‘Right.’ I could see that the ground was dry near him. Approaching my dead brother who had turned Slayer wasn’t an appealing option for my longevity, but I didn’t have a lot of choices.

  And I was already in the realm of the dead.

  I had nothing left to lose.

  I slid across the ice and it cracked behind me in long, jagged lines, revealing a fathomless darkness. The well seemed to be stone, the walls uneven and gray. The space was about fifteen feet across. Round. So, Sigmund was standing on a kind of lip at one side, maybe one formed naturally.

  ‘Some well,’ I said when I was safely on dry ground. ‘Big.’

  Or maybe we were really small.

  You can’t be too sure when you’re dreaming.

  ‘High volume in certain seasons,’ Sigmund said. ‘It’s fed by all sorts of strange rivers.’ He gave me a look. ‘You seriously don’t want to know.’

  He didn’t look dead. Not really. A bit faded around the edges. Less vital than real live people. But if you didn’t look twice, you might not notice it. ‘You’re Sigmund, right? My brother from my dad’s first firestorm.’

  ‘Our father.’ He stuck out his hand. ‘Sigmund Guthrie.’

  I shook his hand. He didn’t feel dead, either. At least his hand didn’t feel the way I expected dead people’s hands to feel. His skin felt kind of papery, not, you know, like rotten meat. ‘Zoë Sorensson. How come you have a different last name?’

  ‘Long story. How’s this for the short version? When I was born, I was Sigmund Sorensson.’

  Ah, a name change. I would guess because my dad – our dad – had ticked him off. It wasn’t much of a stretch for my imagination, given my recent interactions with that dragon. I folded my arms across my chest. There was no wind here, but it was still cold. Damp. ‘So, is this the land of the dead? I’d think it would be more crowded.’

  Sigmund smiled. ‘Technically, it’s not, but you can get there from here.’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘The well is fed by several rivers, like I said, so when the tide is right, it’s like an ancient sewer system down here. You can get from here to there, if you really want to go, but I have to tell you, there’s not much to recommend it in the way of sights. Lousy company, too. Morose.’ He seemed to find this funny.

  ‘Good to know. Thanks.’ I looked around, reminded myself that I had very little to lose. ‘So, does anyone ever get out of here?’

  ‘Sure. The sisters send down the bucket every day. They have to water the tree, you know. Just hop in and they’ll haul you up.’

  I was skeptical that Urd would do me any kind of favor like that, but I couldn’t see the point in arguing.

  ‘You came down here without knowing you could get back out?’ I nodded and he whistled. ‘Braver than you look.’

  ‘Actually, I didn’t have a lot of choice. I was chucked in the well.’ I remembered something else. ‘You didn’t happen to see a ring fall down here, did you?’

  ‘This one?’ He held up the ring, smiling at my obvious relief. I reached for it, but he tossed it in the air, keeping it out of my grasp. I was terrified that he’d drop it and it would fall into that black water.

  ‘Hey, give it to me!’

  ‘Why should I?’

  ‘Because it’s mine!’

  ‘Go ahead and make me.’

  I snatched and he moved it away once again. Then he laughed, his eyes twinkling. ‘Guess that’s what brothers and sisters are supposed to do, isn’t it? Had to try it out, just once.’ He offered me the ring.

  I smiled and reached for it again. ‘Did you like being an only child?’

  ‘No.’ He did his sleight of hand with the ring just before I could snag it and I was annoyed. Just like a little sister is supposed to be. ‘You?’

  ‘No, but I’m starting to see its appeal.’

  He laughed easily. I kind of liked him.

  ‘Catch,’ Sigmund said and tossed the ring toward me. It was an easy toss, but I stretched too far. (Told you about me and projectiles.) I grabbed the ring out of the air; then my foot slipped off the lip of the stone. Sigmund grabbed me and pulled me back, his hand firm around my elbow.

  I leaned against the stone wall, my heart pounding, the ring clutched in my hand. ‘Thanks.’ I shoved the ring onto my finger.

  The view didn’t change. Interesting.

  ‘No problem. Big brothers are supposed to look out for their sisters.’ He grinned wickedly. ‘As well as pester them and stuff frogs into their beds. Sorry. I’ve got to cram everything in together. We’ve got a lot of time to make up.’

  I laughed at that. ‘I can’t even make fun of your girlfriends. Not without knowing them a little.’

  ‘Oh, that’s too bad.’ He waggled his eyebrows in mock dismay, making me laugh again.

  We were close together then and I saw that he was a bit taller than me. He didn’t look that much like me, yet I could see some similarity around the eyes. I wondered how much else we had in common.

  I had to ask. ‘Did you really turn Slayer?’

  ‘Yup.’ He slanted me a glance. ‘Take it from me: bad choice.’

  ‘But why?’

  Sigmund exhaled slowly. ‘Let’s just say it was part of the whole name change and teenage rebellion thing.’

  I seriously felt that I had a lot in common with my brother then. We stood in silence for a moment, and I wondered whether he was waiting for me to ask the questions. I did. ‘Did you really write that book?’

  He grimaced. ‘Yes. Bad choice. There was only ever a single copy of it, but it made plenty of trouble just the same.’

  I turned to look straight at him. ‘One copy? Are you sure?’

  ‘Well, yes. I created it, page by page, bound it myself.’ He shrugged. ‘A work of art, from my own hands. Not that I’m being cocky or anything, but it was good work. Lasted over a century, too.’

  ‘Someone could have copied it.’

  He shook his head. ‘I had it for years in my possession. Locked away securely. No one could have copied it without my knowing. When I couldn’t keep close watch on it, I ensured that it went to Sara’s aunt’s bookstore.’

  ‘Garrett’s mom, Sara?’

  He nodded.

  ‘Someone could have copied it there.’

  ‘No. The Mages put a glamour on it so no one could see it who shouldn’t.’ He winced. ‘They were involved by then, unfortunately.’

  ‘And who did see it? Someone must have, ultimately.’

  ‘It was Erik, of course. Dad.’ Sigmund smiled. ‘It’s his foresight that gives him an edge. And maybe the connection to me. He might have smelled my scent on it.’ He shrugged. ‘Either way, he spotted it. He handed it to Sara and then she saw it, too. She kept it locked up for years after that.’ He shrugged. ‘Until it was stolen.’

  Stolen.

  That was the copy of the book I knew about, the one that had been lost from Sara’s shop. Although no one had ever said ‘stolen’ in my presence, just ‘lost.’ And I hadn’t known that bit about the glamour.

  Either way, there was a puzzle here. ‘But there must be two copies.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because my friend Jared has a copy and he found it before Sara’s was stolen.’

  ‘Found?’ Sigmund’s eyes danced with mischief. ‘Maybe someone’s lying to you, little sister.’ Before I could argue with that, he pursed his lips and blew out the candle.

  I reached for him in the darkness, but my hand closed on empty
air. ‘Sigmund? Sigmund!’ My own cry echoed in the well, but there was no other sound.

  He was gone. I was abandoned in the dark in silence.

  Except there was the sound of metal scraping, followed by the faint creak of a chain. I looked up to see a bucket swinging as it was lowered down the well and the white orb of a grinning skull face above it.

  At least Sigmund had told me how to get out.

  Although I wasn’t that hot to see Urd up close and personal again, given the choice, I’d take the bucket lift. It had to be better than trying to find my way through an ancient sewer system in the dark – much less waiting for the tides to be right.

  Because now I really had to find Jared and ask him some questions. Maybe just one question. Was he lying to me about the book? I really didn’t want to believe it, but whatever he told me about the book would help me decide what to do about him.

  With him.

  Remembering that he could read my thoughts but I couldn’t read his did exactly nothing to build my confidence.

  I grabbed the bucket when it swung by, climbing up to the handle as it sloshed into the dark water. Sure enough, it was steadily hauled upward, the chain creaking as Urd’s face became more clear overhead. I held on tight and hoped for the best.

  It seemed a long shot.

  And about halfway up the well, the entire scene disappeared.

  I was almost afraid to look.

  But I opened my eyes to find myself back in Meagan’s room. No matter which eye I used, everything looked normal.

  And it was three fifteen.

  I fell back on the pillows, planning my strategy. As I stretched out, my foot touched something cold and wet. Yuck! I flung back the covers, struggling to keep from screaming.

  And a leopard frog hopped out of my bed to the floor. I swear it winked at me before it hopped under Meagan’s bed. I fell to the floor and peered after it, but I saw only dust bunnies on the hardwood there.

  The frog was gone.

  As if it had never been.

  Brothers.