by Kade Cook
Gabrian does not even try to fight the smile growing on her face. Leave it to them to find a way to break through the seriousness of her inner turmoil and find a way to make her smile. She follows Rachael into the store and rubs Shane’s mock injury on the way by. “Now play nice or I will put you both in the backseat for punishment.”
Shane’s grin wavers, only for a moment, as he tries to be serious, waving his hands up in the air in surrender to her threats with the hope that she is kidding.
Miles away from Cherryfield, and the East Coast Convenience Store, the wind flirts with her senses as it whisks in around her through the window. It flails her long dark hair wildly about her face and surrenders the salty and sweet scents carried in from the ocean nearby as they tour the coastal route northward.
Having taken sympathy on her oversized guardian, she switches seats with him and lets him take the wheel on the condition that they leave the windows down—an unspoken attempt to obscure the delicious flavour of Rachael’s light that had nearly driven her crazy earlier. Although Rachael contests the switch for a moment, she concedes with the quick bribery of allowing her to pick any place on their journey and explain the significance of it to Gabrian.
It was an easy and necessary fix.
And this way, Gabrian can sit quietly in the background, listening to the sarcastic banter of blooming comradery between the two most important people in her life while she breathes in the diluted oxygen needed to keep her head straight. She did manage to feed on the bitter tasting stress ball of the store clerk but she still cannot subdue the claws always there beneath the surface.
The trio manages to pass through the Canadian border at Calais, Maine without a hitch. With Rachael’s uncanny ability to win over nearly anyone’s attention—well, except for Shane’s and come to think of it, Thomas’s as well—Officer O’Keefe of the border patrol nearly forgot to ask for their passports on entry into the country. But Gabrian wonders if her continual internal chanting to let them pass was somewhat of an influence as well. She chuckles at the absurdity of a Shadow Walker actually owning a passport considering that in a moment’s notice they can appear anywhere on the planet that casts a shadow.
As the miles pass, Gabrian gazes out the small side window and notices the landscape change ever-so-slightly. The greenery draped along the roadside becomes a bit more plush and abundant—the trees swallowing them up as they drive along the routes through the lower part of the province of New Brunswick. Even the cities pass quickly unless they make an effort to notice them, get lost or take the wrong exit as Shane had, nearing the city of Saint John. But with only few snide comments from the shadowy driver toward his red-headed tour guide, and some quick recalculations by her GPS, they are back on the right path—only losing a few moments of daylight.
Only four pit stops on their journey to the Canadian east coast interrupts Gabrian’s daydreaming. She spends most of the trip staring out the window, trying to envision what is in store from her latest gift development, and preparing herself for what kind of world she is going to have to endure once they get to where they are going.
Rounding their way past the Moncton exits and heading straight for a place called Shediac—or so the large green sign stated—Gabrian’s anxiety begins to whirl from the closeness of their expected arrival. The hours she had dreaded spending in the car had somehow vanished, leaving her with nothing more than mere minutes until her next destination point. Since she is going to the dwellings of the Elder of the Isa Fellowship, the Fellowship of Ice, her mind wanders—manifesting a certain childish fabrication of an image of where the Elder must live. She cannot help but envision a desolate wasteland, surrounded by unyielding layers of snow or at least a house partially made of ice. But as ridiculous as that seems, the air coming through the open window noticeably drops a few degrees the closer they get.
Rachael’s eager anticipation of the trip’s end begins to bubble to the surface. She turns her torso to face the back in order to relay her knowledge of the small coastal town to Gabrian. She had spent one of her past lives there—living to the ripe old age of eighty-nine—but as soon as her lips part to unleash all that she knows, the colour of her irises begins to change, a streak of royal blue bleeding outward from the innards of her ebony pupils, layering her summer green with a highlighted hue. Her voice doesn’t sound. There is only an open-jawed silence as the inner conversation between Rachael and the mage connecting with her takes place.
Gabrian recalls becoming highly annoyed with her friend in her times of ‘spacing out’ when they were younger, when she lived in the ignorant bliss where they were all just humans. But her tolerance is quite lenient now that she is enlightened in the way the world really works around her and the petty annoyances no longer have validity, although she still thinks Rachael does have her legitimate moments from time to time—mostly when it is convenient for her.
With a few blinks of her long black lashes, the colour in Rachael’s eyes returns to her normal green hue and her mouth promptly closes only to open again with words of a different message. “Ashen, is wondering how close we are to arriving into Shediac.” She shifts her twisted torso into a less abnormal pose and directs the next part of the message to Shane. “She says to take the Shediac exit then drive straight through town until we reach the giant lobster. Broghen will be there to meet us.”
The creases around Shane’s eyes deepen in his immediate pleasure, while Rachael spins back around, instantly grinning from the growing furrow in Gabrian’s brow. “Ah, giant lobster?”
“Don’t worry, it’s not real.” Rachael laughs and returns her back to press straight against the seat. “It’s a fishing town just like towns back in Northeast. They have a large monument in the shape of a lobster that is sort of a renowned landmark. I saw somewhere in a tourist guide that it’s a must do when visiting here. People love going there to have their pictures taken with it—even wedding parties go there to include it in their wedding photos.” She twists back around suddenly to face Gabrian with wide eyes and a cheesy grin. “Hey, remind me to dig out the camera when we get there.”
Gabrian rolls her eyes at Rachael’s exuberant grin and lets her eyes drift back toward the blur of passing trees as they reach the exit—following Ashen’s directions. The town is just as small and sleepy as Northeast—the similar quietness of it is reassuring to her although the thoughts of being able to get lost within the concrete and steel buildings does have a certain draw to it as well. But country it was, so country it is. Probably best for all parties involved until she updates her knowledge of how dangerous having the gift of ice truly is to avoid any unnecessary casualties due to her lack of know-how and control.
Passing by the local stores and reading names she has never heard of before, Gabrian thinks how funny just a few miles and a border can make to the familiarity of what she assumes were major company names. Her mind collects the prospect of possibly enjoying her trip just to take in a different strand of life’s cultures. She catches sight of two RV campgrounds right in the middle of town and laughs at the oddity of it, but then understands why they are all crowded together in a cluster once she sees the water open up along the edges of each one. It seems people don’t mind being crammed into small spaces as long as the view is nice—as much can be said for any place, she supposes thinking of Manhattan—as long as they are happy.
Her mental drifting is jarred with a quick right turn into a parking lot—all shifting in their seats at the thoughts of a pit stop and a chance to stretch their legs. Gabrian’s cravings have subsided quite a bit since taking the backseat and a lung full of salty air will hopefully clear out what is left harbouring inside. They roll slowly through the lot, along the turnabout, until the car’s transmission is jammed into park at the edge of grass. The doors fly open on both sides as they all step out onto Canadian soil. Before them stands an extremely large lobster with a fisherman dressed in his sou’wester outfit, overlooking the water.
The trio motions forward t
o take in the peculiar landmark. Although it’s an unusual statue, they all agree it has a particular draw to it—managing to delight and stir their imagination, not to mention the attentions of the excited group of tourists clinging along the front edges of it in order to have their picture taken. Engrossed in the festivities, Shane, Rachael and Gabrian do not notice the new entry to their viewing party.
A low accented voice speaks up from behind them, making them jump in their skins. “You’re next,” it says, in a loud rumble.
Rachael and Gabrian both pivot on their heels, stumbling backward with Gabrian’s arm instinctively outstretched and shielding her friend. Searching the situation, their faces crane upward. They both stare wide-eyed and open-jawed at the lumberjack-sized man standing in front of them. His log-sized arms tucked across his broad chest greet them and hazel green eyes almost glow in the sunlight.
Shane quickly swings his arms out and grabs hold of the stranger, securing him into a tight bear hug. In shock of his sudden attack, Gabrian awakens her senses and searches for the intruder’s aura—efforts to seek out the source of magical being they are up against. Stiffening her outstretched arms to create a more secure makeshift blockade between the men and her defenceless friend, she does a quick study of the beast and concludes her barrier may be futile due to his absence of energy field.
It’s another Shadow Walker, a Schaeduwe just like Shane. Remembering the deep connection exuded between all Shadow Walkers, her emotions become conflicted at this sudden act of combat. But when the loud rumbling sounds of laugher fill the air and the struggles between the two evolve into a brotherly wrestling match that rests in boyish banter and a punch to the arm, Gabrian begins to breathe again—her appendage still protectively stretched in front of her friend.
Rachael peeks around the side of Gabrian’s shoulder to take in the new development. “Okay, so now that we have all the testosterone fueled man bonding out of the way—introductions please,” Rachael chirps, ducking under Gabrian’s arm and strutting her fiery redhead toward the overgrown boys.
“Yeah, yeah, I am getting to it.” Shane huffs out at her. “Rachael, this is Broghen, a very good friend of mine.”
Racheal’s eyes dance over the architecture of her new acquaintance with his hazel green eyes, his similar Schaeduwe caramel-coloured skin, and his wavy dirty brown hair messily flowing in the breeze upon the back of his shoulders. She bites her bottom lip and determines that when the magical ancestors decided to divulge the creation of Shadow Walkers to the Realm, they really knew what they were doing when mixing the genetic pool.
“And Broghen, this is Rachael—an over-opinionated, insufferable minx.”
Rachael’s mouth drops just for a second as the words sink in and she sends a death glare toward Shane but quickly recovers, tossing his wicked words over her shoulder and smiles with intention at Broghen just the same.
Gabrian cannot help but laugh at Rachael’s reaction to Shane’s introduction. It was a bit over the top but in his words, she knows Rachael has found a new friend that will no doubt drive her over the edge at some point, in a good way.
Shane brushes past Rachael, noogying her on the way by, and slides in behind Gabrian. His face beams with pride as he slips his fingers into hers and glances down at her lovingly—tracing his free fingers over the inside of her wrist upon her stone. He returns his focus to his friend and announces with importance, the significance of her presence. “And this is Gabrian.”
Broghen’s soft warm eyes meet Gabrian’s uncertain gaze, immediately settling her insides with his welcoming smile. She is not sure how they all do it but the kind of magic the Schaeduwe possess is lethal. Once they set their mind to making you see them, they will not be denied. It also makes their abnormal ability to take up space seem less intimidating, which does not really concern Gabrian—having been raised by Jarrison and Sarapheane, it gives her a sense of safety to be around them.
He steps forward and extends his large mitt of a hand toward Gabrian and she instinctively mirrors his movements, accepting his comradery—her fingers swallowed up entirely within his gentle grip. She thought Orroryn and Shane were large structures but they have nothing on Broghen. Her mind races to the thought of Easter Island and the legend of giants, wondering if maybe the Schaeduwe Fellowship were once the giants that had roamed this Earth so many years ago.
“It’s nice to meet you, Gabrian.”
She shakes her head to clear her thoughts and smiles, his deep accented words sung sweetly upon her ears. “It’s nice to meet you too.”
“It’s about time someone made him an honest man,” he teases with a wink, releasing her tiny hand and tapping a light finger on her wrist where the Azurite stone now resides.
“Hey now, none of that.” Shane growls at the large man towering over them all. “I have been nothing but a gentleman my entire life.”
Broghen rolls his eyes and whips out his arm in a light punch to Shane’s shoulder. “Sure you have, kid.” His eyes drop to Gabrian’s, and he winks at her. “I think they broke the gentleman mold after they made him.”
“Yah, you are one to talk. Ashen must have nearly killed herself whipping you into shape.”
Broghen’s deep belly laugh erupts as he pulls out the black sunglasses tucked in his front pocket of the plaid flannel shirt and slips them on to shade his hazel eyes. “Touché my friend.”
Rachael can physically feel her bubble burst around her—once again a possible handsome prospect is no longer viable. She sighs in her brief moment of mourning to this fact and decreases her level of flirtatiousness, resigning to go back to her regular feisty sarcastic self. There is no victory to be won here and grumbles to herself, What is it with my luck—always a bridesmaid but never an opportunity to become a bride?
Gabrian idles up to her and whispers, “Maybe Shadow Walkers are not in the cards, you know how they work.”
“I know but they are so bloody hot. It is hard not to notice.”
“Yeah, I know,” Gabrian concedes to her argument and her eyes lift, resting on her own heart’s desire, unable to find a plausible statement to disagree with her.
“All right, enough of all this standing around,” Broghen whoops, rubbing his hands together briskly. “I have a bowl of steak marinating in my secret recipe waiting for me to get back to it. Let’s take a ride.”
“Sounds good to me,” Shane cheers, giving Gabrian a quick hug before herding her toward the little green beetle. “Where are your wheels?”
“I don’t have any. I thought I would hitch a ride with you guys—just easier that way.”
Gabrian and Rachael look at each other with pursed lips and then halt their approach as they size up the two mountains that will be housed within their means of transportation.
“Um, Shane...”
He waves his hand at her and shakes his head. “Don’t worry, we’ll fit.”
Rachael and Gabrian look at each other and shrug their shoulders. “It will be fine. You have seen how many clowns can fit into those cars.”
“Yes, but they aren’t clowns.”
“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” Rachael teases, wrapping her arm around Gabrian’s waist to pull her near. Gabrian tenses for a moment at the closeness and holds her breath while Rachael’s light dances unconcerned around them.
“I suppose you have a point,” she concurs and eases out a smile, imagining the circus act about to take place.
“I will just sit back with you and they can duke it out in the front.”
A wave of panic electrocutes Gabrian’s nerves at the thought of being confined in the backseat, surrounded by Rachael’s aura. “Shane, are you sure we can...”
“Don’t worry, Mademoiselle Gabrian, our journey will be short. It is no more than five minutes away. I am sure I can endure the suffering of being in close quarters with the likes of this guy for that long.”
Gabrian forces her mouth to turn up at the edges in the eyes of the large gentle creature before her. It is
not his suffering she is worried about, it is her own. Surely, she can control the cravings of her inner demon for that long. Right?
Right.
26
ICE QUEEN
SOMEWHERE BETWEEN THE nonstop banter from the front seat and the warm wash of wind Gabrian insisted on in the backseat, they make it to their final destination. Though she still is not sure how they all managed to fit, Rachael was right about being able to squish all the clowns in the car, but it is definitely a work of pure physical magic. The two hulking beings manage to crush themselves together into the front half of the vehicle with not an inch to spare between their shoulders, only having to readjust the seat positions to do it while Gabrian and Rachael sit relatively comfortable in the back.
Gabrian rides with her head nearly hanging out of the window all the way to ensure her temptations do not get out of hand. And it works. She also has a clear view of the ambience that surrounds their temporary home for the next few weeks.
“Are you from here?” Gabrian hears Rachael ask from inside the car.
“I am, yes. I was born here but my parents are originally from the old country—from France,” Broghen offers from the front seat, peeking over his shoulder. “They immigrated here many years ago.”
“Are they still here?”
“No. They decided that they wanted to go back to live within the Veil,” he says, tightening the hair band around his lengthy locks to ensure they remain in place. “They had begun to get along in their years and inside the Veil, time and the lingering magic that resides there, is a little more forgiving on those advancing in age.”
“Oh,” Rachael gasps, feeling sorry for Broghen, knowing how time revolves so rapidly between the two worlds.
Broghen’s laughter fills the car with the kind of joyous energy that causes others to smile with him. “Trust me—there is no need to frown, little one. They spent loads of time here amongst the mixed races of the Realm. Nearly 600 years of enjoying Earth’s simplicities is pretty good, I would say. They decided to spend their retirement taking in the other side of their species.” He ends with a wink and a dimpled grin. “Well, here we are.”
