Calico (The Covenant of Shadows Book 2)

by Kade Cook

  This truth stirs Cimmerian from his chopping. His hands cease their task but his fingers remain in action, squeezing the red handle in efforts to contain his emotions. “Caspyous will deal with the girl. He shares my detesting of the Boragen. I will let him handle the issue with the Borrower.”

  “Caspyous? Who is this exactly?”

  “He is the elder to the Hydor Fellowship.”

  “What happened to Théoden?” Twisting his head to the side in thought, a sinister grin slides across Adrinn’s face in his recovered memories. “Oh yes, never mind. I remember. I ripped his essence clean off his bones the night you all came to destroy me. Pity. Nevertheless, his loss was a necessary measure for my imminent survival. Without his gracious donation to my cause, you would not have the joy of sharing in my delightful company now.”

  Shaking his head with a roll of his eyes, Cimmerian returns to his preparations. “Don’t you mean blackmail?”

  “Tomato...Tomauto!”

  The air between the two foes is dumped with a heavy scent of the undead, surrounding them with a violent pulse pushing against their souls. Their eyes reach for each other in reaction to the unexpected disruption in the rift between dimensions.

  Cimmerian’s hands slam down on the countertop, cracking the eerie silence between them. “What did you do now?”

  Adrinn’s eyes widen with Cimmerian’s immediate insinuation of his involvement in the oddity. “Do not look at me like that, with those black, beady eyes of yours,” he huffs, stuffing his arms together across his chest, lifting his chin in a sulk. “I did nothing.”

  Cimmerian’s brow twists and looks down his nose at the sullen monster across from him.

  Adrinn turns his head to meet Cimmerian’s glare. “Seriously, you think I have something to do with this? I have been right here...with you.”

  “That is merely circumstantial. Whenever things have gone wrong as of late, it has your stench all over it.”

  Adrinn sucks in a loud sulking breath, pretending to be insulted. “Now that is a bit harsh now, don’t you think?”

  Cimmerian raises an irritated brow at the questioning fiend and delivers his answer with an icy glare. “No!”

  37

  PRE-TRIAL CONFESSION

  INHALING SLOWLY, GABRIAN’S mind still reels with tangled truths that she struggles to believe, her palms still sore and charred from the unexpected magic she somehow summoned from deep within—annihilating the presence of death’s scavengers and thwarting their efforts to steal what was left of Rachael’s soul.

  Quickly rushed to Vaeda’s side by Ashen and Broghen, Gabrian tries to manifest a coherent recall of the events that just took place but not truly knowing herself causes her to fumble in her pre-trial confession. She cannot concentrate on the task at hand. All she can think about is getting to Rachael—somehow.

  Her body screams out when the wards enclosing the Covenant of Shadows strangle her essence and confine its wildness into the vessel it is attached to—jarring her mind awake and alerting her of where she is. Her heart grinds at first but it succeeds to the depths of despair her thoughts carry. She deserves to be here. She deserves to be punished.

  She is a monster.

  Every footstep she takes echoes through the great hall, pounding in her ears. She can already hear the inner heckling coming from the crowd gathered around the dreaded High table—the deciders of her fate. Ashen ushers her to her usual spot and gives her arm a gentle squeeze—Gabrian barely registers it. The friendly, reassuring ‘Just Breathe’ motto normally delivered to her in these instances doesn’t come. Her eyes focus to seek out the source of silence—finding the Elder’s seat empty. Ethan is not in attendance, he is needed elsewhere because of her foolish and selfish pride.

  Her eyes shift to find some sign of an ally around the table, hoping that Kaleb might lend her a gentle smile, but his seat is vacant as well. There is only Vaeda and Orroryn in attendance to aid in her defence, their words of warning echoing loudly.

  Do not reveal who you truly are, it will be a slaughter if you do.

  Snarling words rip her and she prepares for the onslaught about to occur.

  “Trouble just seems to follow you everywhere.” Cold and piercing eyes lift from their resting gaze to narrow in on her, making the hair on the back of her neck bite against her flesh from the ice wrapped around each word. “It’s astounding at how oddly coincidental all this is...don’t you think?” Caspyous slides forward—retiring from his artic glare toward her—and directs his instigative glances around the table as he delivers his twisted inquiry. “I am not one to judge but it makes me wonder what else is going on that she is hiding.”

  Not waiting for permission to speak, she sits up and glares at Caspyous in defiance—bursting out her only words of defence. “I am not hiding anything.”

  “Oh, I disagree, youngling,” he says, sliding his cold menacing eyes back to rest upon her. “I think there is much more to you than what appears.” The words monstrosity and abomination silently assault her mind from her Elder’s unspoken hatred for her kind as his lips curl into a twisted sneer.

  The heat beneath her skin surfaces and her alabaster skin glows with a hint of rose. Locking down her inner most fears within the caverns of her mind, she secures herself. If this is how the trial is going to start out, then she better hunker down for the storm.

  The inquiry is long and cruel. Throughout the entire gong show of a trial, she hears the minds whisper their attacks on her and who she is—what she has done. ‘That thing,’ Demon, and Vampire are among the slander but the one that stings the most is Abomination. She defends herself as best she can but unable to remember anything other than fighting off the Gargons, her strife is in vain—with no ground to stand on, she sits as quietly as she can, unsure of her future.

  The meeting goes on for what seems like hours. She is dismissed temporarily while the Elders speak in private. Rumbles of conspiracy venture through the halls along with whispers of what really may flow through her veins, floating freely into her mind. They are able to shut out most of the onlookers within the walls of the Covenant, but they cannot hide all from those minds that cannot be contained. Disgust and outrage flares wildly at the very possibility that this orphan—this nobody—might contain magic of great power. It is ludicrous—completely preposterous—whispers some while others feel a subtle whim of hope settle into their thoughts.

  With only Orroryn and Vaeda knowing the truth of her heritage, they understand this could very well be a possibility and lend an encouraging message to the group without revealing the whole truth. With Cera being gone for so long, maybe it is a glimpse of a small miracle. The growth of negativity in the Realm is spreading, especially since the return of the very demon their beloved Silver Mage had saved them from. The truth of life is based on the fact that there must be a balance and Mother Nature always has a way of finding that balance—a way of maintaining control, regardless of the cost.

  And maybe it was fate.

  38

  WHISPERS WITHIN THE DARKNESS

  THE COVENANT VOTES that Gabrian’s Isa gift is no longer high priority. Having unconsciously drained the life essence of her own best friend has caused quite a stir and now, with all these new wisps of gifts appearing, they are unsure of what to do with her.

  It is agreed that her Vampiric act was not intentional, therefore it is not considered a malicious attempt, but she is no longer allowed the freedom that was once hers. With Ethan absent, they are unable to determine the array of powers she may possess but it will be evaluated once Rachael’s situation is stabilized. Though usually quick to condemn such acts, Cimmerian remains reasonably quiet, only partaking in the conversations when directly addressed. Trying hard not to take center stage on the witch hunt, and staying in the shadow of Caspyous’s tirade during the show, Cimmerian hopes it is enough.

  Now alone within the walls of his chambers, Cimmerian paces frantically—pondering his choices. This youngling is going to be watched, e
very eye—especially the unobserved eyes—will be tracking her every move. Does he want to be part of this? And since her newest gift is that of Darkness—one that she seems able to summon quite forcefully—and considering that it took him ages to be able to do what she did on her first encounter with the Gargons, a twinge of jealousy seeps into his thoughts only for a moment. It is quickly replaced with a brief exhale of pity for the girl having to deal with learning so many new gifts all at once.

  His decision bounces from duty to digression—which held the most meaning for him was still being determined. “I would think the decisions would be quite crystal clear to you,” a familiar, yet annoying voice whispers to him from across the dimly lit room.

  Cimmerian looks up from his feet, gritting his teeth. “And why is that now?”

  Adrinn’s phantom-like form clarifies within the hazy lighting. “Well, considering that she now has touched upon the delicate boundaries of your magical abilities. To tell you the truth, I find that I am quite delighted with these new developments...they certainly outweigh any expectations I once conceived for the girl.”

  “Ahem,” Cimmerian clears his throat in his immediate annoyance with Adrinn’s tangent.

  Adrinn’s essence slithers across the wooden floorboards, inching his way closer to his host. “Yes, of course. Forgive me, old boy,” he says as he pulls at his vaporous lapel and moves past Cimmerian in his rant. “This way you will have ample opportunity to get closer to the girl.”

  “I don’t want to get closer to her.” Cimmerian twists on his heels and bellows out his retort. “I want to get as far away from her, and you, as I possibly can.”

  “Oh, really now? Have you changed your mind about helping your dear, deserted daughter— the one who drifts helplessly throughout Erebus?” Adrinn taunts, knowing this will bring Cimmerian’s attention back around to the real focus of their unwanted encounters. “Now what kind of father would that make you?”

  Cimmerian’s eyes burn with hate for this creature. His vision blurs with dew of his heightened state of mind from hearing these venomous words. “There is already much suspicion in the Realm on how you got out and now all of this fiasco with the girl...all eyes are heavy in my direction.” He rubs his cold slender hand through his hair, gathering them together at the nape of his neck as he clings to his sanity and struggles to maintain his moral convictions. His eyes soften their glare just a bit and his lips quiver as he pleads his question. “What would you have me do?”

  Grabbing the edge of his chin and raising his intensifying gaze, Adrinn answers. “What you must. If you wish to see Symone again, that is. Tit for Tat, my good man—it is just the way of the world.”

  “It doesn’t have to be.”

  “Oh, but it does.” Adrinn shifts his position and begins to circle Cimmerian’s statuesque stance, his face impish and decided. “What better way to redeem and prove your allegiance within the eyes of the Elders for your slight-over-sight of the breach in the dimensions, than to offer to mentor the youngling in her time of need—in her time of discovery,” he breathes out confidently, a grin growing across his face.

  “I know what you are thinking.” Cimmerian scowls and finds his dismay dissipating with his new contemplation of what this monster is envisioning. “You are not the only one thinking it.”

  Adrinn ceases his circling and stops just behind his friend, his grin spreading as he stares out across the room. “I am not thinking anything. I am hoping.” Adrinn turns his head to glance back over his shoulder to see Cimmerian now facing his back and wearing a frown.

  “Yes, well, since you have come back, I have learned one thing.”

  “And what would that be?” Adrinn’s grin turns into a devious smirk pinching the corners of his hazel eyes.

  “That hope is a dangerous thing.”

  39

  A SLIGHT CHANCE

  UNDER WATCH, GABRIAN is given permission to go see Rachael at the medical facility. Confused as to why she has not been healed yet and back at her apartment causes alarms to go off within her. With Shane at her side, he explains that while Ethan and Kaleb have been caring for her nonstop since she arrived, Rachael’s critical state of being is on the brink of death. Normally, once one gets to this state, the Gargons have already injected their toxins within them, preparing them for the inevitable ingesting of their soul. But since Gabrian managed to fight them off and send them back, they were unable to finish their job and left Rachael in a state of suspense between worlds—floating helplessly until she can find the path to where she is supposed to be. Whether her place is with the Gargons or to find her way back to the Realm, for now she remains in limbo.

  All they can do is wait.

  Hearing the heart-wrenching truth of what she has done leaves Gabrian devastated. All she wants to do is see Rachael. Since she is the one who did this to her, maybe she can find a way to reach her and pull her back.

  Within the corridors of the hospital, Gabrian and Shane march to Rachael’s door. Feeling the heavy eyes of the watchers on her, the weight in her steps increases and makes her feet drag, unprepared for what awaits her at the end destination. Room 231 in bold print gives her heart a jolt when she reads it. Her ice blue eyes search for Shane’s green ocean of kindness.

  He takes her hand, giving it a gentle touch, and nods his head. “It will be all right, Rachael is strong. She will find her way back.”

  Hearing his words rattle through her brain, Gabrian hopes they will dissuade her uncertainties, but it offers only a little help in her believing them.

  Movement to her right catches her attention as she reaches to push on the door. In the corner of the hallway stands large bodies—watchers, auras flaring in changing degrees of blue. Their faces are grim and cold, straight lines forming their mouths. She can hear the hatred rage within their minds for her, knowing exactly who she is.

  “We’ll be watching you,” one of the statues hisses out, warning her...threatening her.

  The words, simple as they are, irritate her to her core and she lashes out. “What do you think I am here to do, finish her off?” she growls, her words slipping between tense jaws. “She is my best friend.”

  The two watchmens’ tongues remain silent, but their minds taunt her with their unkind words. Some best friend, huh. Nothing good can come from harbouring a Vampire for a friend. While the other peers at her and growls inwardly his disdain. Abomination.

  The last word pierces through her fragile armor, and she looks away, shrouding the dampness now clouding her sight, twisting on the handle to escape their stares. She slips in behind the door and rests her weight upon it, hiding from them.

  “Gabrian,” a tender voice jars her from her hiding spot. From beside the bed rises a familiar form—a large familiar form. Orroryn welcomes her with a soft gaze and a kind smile, lifting his hand to beckon her to join him. “I wasn’t expecting you until later.”

  “Oh, Orroryn. I didn’t see you in here,” she says, turning to attempt an exit. “I will come back when you are done.”

  “No, don’t go. I was just leaving,” he ensures and moves toward her in an effortless step, guiding her to stand by her friend’s side. “After the trial, I mean the...”

  “It is fine, Orroryn—we both know what it was.”

  “Yes, I suppose we do.” His head dips a bit, feeling sympathy for her, knowing how much she must be hurting. “Anyway, I just felt the need to check on her. To see if there was any change...to report to the Covenant’s Elders.”

  Gabrian’s head tilts, catching the strange slip in his reasoning for being here. Maybe his attendance is weighted heavier than his explanation—maybe Rachael was onto something with her confession. But her mind stops its inquiry recalling all the events that followed—the events that led them all here. The sadness pounds violently in her chest and her face dips in the sudden unleashing of painful memories.

  Seeing her internal struggle surface, Orroryn reaches for the door. “I will let you have some time with her.�
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  Gabrian just nods, holding back the tears that burn to get out.

  “I am guessing Shane is just outside?”

  She nods again, this time managing to answer. “Yes...” she coughs out. “Just outside in the hall.”

  With that, Orroryn manages to slip his mountainous form seamlessly through the small opening between the door and its frame, disappearing into the hall, and leaves her alone with the mess she created. Gabrian forces herself to turn, to face the destruction of her friend, and look upon the nightmare she has made of everything. She sighs and wills her feet to move forward. Her hands reach out to grasp the cold metal of the safety bars placed around Rachael’s lifeless body.

  Not able to move any closer, the sight of her best friend just lying there causes Gabrian’s perfectly-abled body to tremor. The guilt of knowing she is in there somewhere, lost in some kind of chaotic hell Gabrian is all too well familiar with, is more than she can take. Her mouth waters; the sour taste of sickness makes its tainted appearance as her stomach turns in disgust. How could she have let this happen, how could she have been this selfish? It should be her lying here, not Rachael, and she would give anything to change it.

  Gabrian unclenches her fist from the iron rail and reaches for Rachael’s small hand. Feeling the cool soft flesh against her own triggers a tear to fall from her eyes and trail its way down her cheek. Brushing it quickly away, Gabrian pinches at the cusp of her own grey aura searching for a thread, for a slight chance of hope, and willing it to be there. Again and again, she tries becoming frantic in her efforts to find it, even a trace that she can use, but it is not there. Gabrian’s mind scolds her efforts, making her question her own existence. What good is a Borrower if they cannot heal, or lend their essence?

  “No good at all,” she sobs.

  Not being able to do anything or see her friend like this any longer, she growls out loud in her frustration, louder than she had anticipated, and the door flies open. The two thugs who had delivered a warning to her earlier make good on their promise as they push their way into the room, hearing the sudden unexpected noise.