by Kade Cook
Alarmed by the intrusion, and lost in her own measure of incompetency, Gabrian barrels forward between the two of them but they catch her and demand an explanation to the noise. “What is going on here?”
Feeling their iron grip on her arms and their hatred burning in their touch, itching to destroy her, she rips herself away and yells out. “Nothing...I didn’t touch her, I didn’t hurt her. I never meant to hurt her.” The words come spilling out of her mouth, filled with the pain that tortures her from the inside out. Tears fills her eyes and she pushes her way past the blurry figures standing in her way, searching for a way out—dying to find a way back to her old life, the way it was before she knew about the Realm.
40
A LIGHT IN THE DARKNESS
NOT WANTING TO SEE or deal with anyone, Gabrian asks Shane to slip her back home within the Veil. Having the confusing images of what she has done constantly spinning in her mind wreaks havoc on her insides. The inability to do anything to help is driving her to madness—not to mention knowing that her every move is being monitored as a liability to the Realm. She is walking on thin ice with a few of the Fellowships that have little sympathy for her kind.
Shane prepares her a coffee hoping that it will help, which usually it does, but she refuses it. She is too busy pacing, trying to figure out her next move, a plan to find a way to fix this horrific whirlwind that she has manifested to be her life.
“There has to be something,” she mumbles to herself out loud, not really registering that she isn’t alone. “Something—anything that can help Rachael find her way back,” she continues, wringing her hands through her hair and lodging them deeply behind her head.
“It’s too bad that she doesn’t have a stone like yours,” Shane hums out, adding to her monologue, not sure if she will hear him or not.
Gabrian’s trek comes to a direct halt and her head spins, her eyes latching upon her guardian’s. “What did you just say?”
Caught off guard by her quick reply, Shane’s words jumble in his mouth for a second. “I said,” repeating himself more softly, “that it is too bad that she doesn’t have a stone like the one I gave you.”
Making her way across the living room to stand just below the kitchen counter, she stares up at him wide-eyed. “Why?”
Shane has found her attention and he takes this opportunity to pass her the prepared coffee. She takes it unconsciously as he begins to speak, looking for some understanding. “Because the stone I gave you, if you remember, has great power.” He edges himself around the end of the counter and settles his large frame to rest upon the top step of the landing, his eyes now level with hers. “This particular stone has the ability to stabilize and connect with your subconscious—amplifying your mental commands. It allows you to have more control of your thoughts and how you project them toward others.”
Gabrian stands before him silently, her mind reeling in thought.
“If this kind of thing were to happen to you, the stone would act as a beacon for you. A light in the darkness for your subconscious to cling to, to guide you safely back to your physical vessel.”
Gabrian’s eyes are alight, her grey aura now tinted with white and violet hues swirling erratically around her form causing Shane to sit up and take notice of the strange phenomenon taking place before him. He has never really seen this kind of colour shifting up close before and is a little uncertain how to feel about it.
“Where did you get this stone?” she asks, wringing her fingers lightly over the surface of the smooth stone embedded against her skin.
“From a friend.” Shane announces, a little hesitant to give away his source, always protective of his secret—her safety.
“I have to get another stone like mine. You have to get me one,” Gabrian insists, her eyes intense and wild. “I need one.”
“Gabrian, I can’t...”
“What do you mean you can’t?” Gabrian gasps, already confused by his refusal.
Shane’s face softens, knowing why she wants it. “I can’t just get you a stone. It doesn’t work that way,” he tells her, releasing a loud sigh, hoping that she will hear him.
“Well, tell me how it works, and I will get her one myself,” Gabrian insists, taking a sip of her coffee as her eyes wander around the room, pondering possibilities.
“Maddor...I mean, my friend doesn’t just give these things away,” he starts. “The stones are received as a gift, a Schaeduwe request for their chosen one.” He lifts his free hand and reaches inside of his worn grey T-shirt and retrieves his stone, carefully entwined in its binding hanging loosely around his neck, close to his heart. “It is their promise—a stone divided into two equal parts. A gift only given out to those she deems worthy of them.”
Gabrian’s eyes jump from their search and catch his with a jolt. “She...” she says to him, her gaze unmoving. “Who is she?” She waits only for a second for his reply but then continues. “Doesn’t matter, where is she? I will ask her myself,” she insists, turning her back to him to start her pacing again. “Maybe she will make an exception when I explain the circumstances to her.”
“Gabrian, I don’t think...” Shane starts to explain to her, but she is not really listening to him.
She stops her steps and quickly turns to face him again, tears staining her cheeks from her eight-foot repetitive journey. “It doesn’t matter, it is worth a try...” she whispers as loud as she can, her words beginning to fail her. “It is a sliver of hope. That is all I have right now.”
Feeling her pain slice through his chest at the sight of her desperation, and hearing the desolation in her voice, there is only one thing he can do.
He must make a visit to the island, to the old white shed that sits snug against the trees along his driveway. Maybe Gabrian can convince the old woman to break with tradition, who knows. The bigger question is, will his undying devotion to Gabrian’s heart and her happiness put the old woman’s life at risk, revealing his secret—his promise to keep her hidden from the world, even from his mate?
41
NOT WHAT WAS EXPECTED
NOT WANTING TO WASTE any time getting to her final destination, Gabrian asks Shane to skip the boat ride and to jump right into the Veil. Her heart pounds loudly within her chest when they arrive just outside the door of the tattered old white shed.
She tries to recall all her practiced words she wants to use in order to convince this woman she must give her a stone but now that they are here, Gabrian draws a blank—her eyes wide and searching in a sudden panic attack. This is no time for her brain to stop working. Rachael’s life may depend on it.
“Now remember what I said,” Shane whispers to her. “I can’t guarantee she will even meet with you let alone give you a stone. You are not a...”
“Schaeduwe, I know, sacred request. I got it, but I have to try.” She exhales and her wide eyes, now covered in a glassy sheen, stare up at him in angst.
“She might even banish me for even bringing you here.” Shane rubs his hand through his hair, knowing that after this unexpected visit, it may be the last time he sees his little friend. Breaching the unspoken contract of secrecy may cause her to up and pull freight, disappearing once again to protect her identity.
Shane made Gabrian swear an oath never to speak of this meeting to anyone if he promised to bring her here. And she did, without question, only thinking of her own needs. She considered the magnitude of what she is asking him to do and knows the request is causing him grief. But with a loud rap of Shane’s knuckles against the wooden door, they are here, and it is too late to change her mind—not really but she needs this stone.
“Oh, and remember what I said about her appearance,” Shane gently reminds Gabrian. She nods in accordance.
“What about my appearance?” A gruff crackle catches their attention as the heavy door slowly creaks open. Through the darkness, just beyond the entry, is Madorrah—her green glowing eyes merely slits and her mouth twisted impishly to one corner filled with misch
ief.
Gabrian looks upon Madorrah as she pulls on the door to widen the birth enough to allow them entry—a proud Schaeduwe warrior spirit exuding with greatness and knowledge contained within this small twisted form. Her immediate reaction to the little woman is adoration. Something about her makes the Borrower feel at ease—a miracle in itself, given the reason why they are here.
“Come in, come in, you are letting a draft in,” she says, hurrying them and pushing past to close the door once they are through. The room, now dark, smells of earth and metal. The only means of light are glowing splinters that slip past the edges of the large thermal blanket hanging on the other side of the glass wall. Not wasting any time on proper formalities, Madorrah grabs Gabrian by the hand and tugs—leading her to the already opened hearth of her world below.
Looking up at Shane, and seeing him grin while he silently follows behind the two, Gabrian gives her shoulders a quick shrug, allowing the woman to drag her away with a playful grin. Is this normal? she asks, sending the silent question just to him.
He only smirks, shrugging his shoulder in reply.
She twists her grin and edges herself onto the lip of the hatch, letting her legs fall into the hole Madorrah has just disappeared into. She steals another glance in Shane’s direction.
“Just go in,” he assures her, waving his hand. “It will be fine. She lives down there.”
Gabrian’s face twists, her brows bunch in this revelation, but is relieved that they are going to her home and not some secretive underground tunnel dug throughout the island. At this point in her life, nothing would surprise her.
Dropping down onto the second level, Gabrian smiles, not expecting to witness such beauty constructed beneath the shed. It is warm, glowing, and it smells so good. She is surprised at how clear the air is, not damp and musty at all, like one would expect. The meticulously placed stones are a masterpiece and her eyes drift over every one—wondering if the woman placed them where they are as she found them or whether she melded them into the shapes she desired. Either way, it is a spectacular display of creativity.
“Come, come now, my dear. Sit with me while the tea is still warm.” The old woman beckons, waving Gabrian over to the polished stone protruding out of the wall fully set for company with cups and fixings.
“How come you never set the table this fancy for me?” Shane teases, nearing the table and pulls over a wooden stump—carved and cared for—delicately constructed and shaped into a seat.
“Because you are not as interesting as she is,” she taunts, hobbling past him just near enough to pull at one of his curls. “Now mind your manners, I have company.”
A chuckle escapes Gabrian’s mouth and she decides that she likes this old soul, regardless of the outcome of their meeting. Watching the banter between the two in front of her is heartwarming. She may be a bit on the gruff side, but there is much beauty within Madorrah despite her war-torn exterior. Gabrian can see why Shane is so taken with her—adoring every ounce of her being and willing to keep her safe.
Madorrah stops for a moment and sighs. She grabs three spoons from within the spun wooden vase upon her countertop and returns to her new guest, glancing briefly at her. She places the spoons upon the table and lowers herself onto her stool. Once settled, she directs all her attention to rest upon Gabrian. Though her eyes seem cloudy and faded, they are thoughtful and wise. Gabrian holds her gaze, swimming in the bounty of what she sees within—lost somewhere in a dream, surrounded by what feels like a thousand souls.
“I see your mind. You wonder why I do not seek the magic that lingers within the Veil.”
Gabrian snaps back to the present, sharpening her focus on the holder of the statement, a bit surprised at her words. Unsure if the woman can read minds, or if she is just really good at reading people, Gabrian tucks away her thoughts about seeing Madorrah’s form. It is not hard, actually. Other than the fact she stands in a crooked stance and displays a few scars on her skin, she is still quite beautiful. Not in the same degree of the other Shadow Walkers she has met but she still exudes the same awe factor that just seems to seep through them—a natural part of who they are.
“I, um...” Gabrian fumbles with her thoughts.
“Time is too precious, and I have no need of superficial façades. It is the beauty that lies beneath the skin that truly counts,” she concludes, picking up her cup, and gives Gabrian a wink though the slender wisps of steam rising up from the hot tea inside.
Gabrian smiles and nods her head knowingly. A few battle scars are nothing more than reminders to let her know she is still here, still breathing—that she survived the cause of those scars. Madorrah’s words sing out as if she is speaking directly to her, sending her a cryptic message of some sort. Gabrian’s eyes narrow a bit and look away for only an instant, trying to decipher the code.
Madorrah’s eyes sparkle and she nudges Shane’s arm as he sits quietly, sipping his tea. “It is like looking into a mirror.”
He surfaces from his muted state and grumbles a response, “What? A mirror...what are you talking about?”
Madorrah’s eyes return their gaze to Gabrian. Her smile broadens across her lips, making the scars deepen in their folds. “She looks just like her, a spittin’ image.”
“How would you know?”
“I know things. I have seen things,” she grumbles back at him, willing to rise to the challenge.
Shane’s eyes widen, and he sets down his tea. “You have been to the Veil. Wait a minute. What on Earth were you doing there? You hate the Veil.”
“I don’t hate the Veil. I just choose to not slip deep within its magic. I want to enjoy and get the most out of my time here before I am forced to succumb to its calling.”
“How? By living underground in a hole, like a hermit, never leaving these walls or going outside into the sunlight?”
“Ah, the sun is overrated anyway,” she declares, waving away his insinuations, and goes back to her tea. “Who needs it?”
“Um, everything on this planet?”
Gabrian waits patiently as the two rattle on with their banter back and forth but the fact Madorrah knows her mother, and she has hinted the fact she has been to see her, is a pretty big spill of unspoken information. “Excuse me, I don’t mean to be rude and interrupt your conversation but what is this about you seeing my mother in the Veil?”
Madorrah’s face flattens. Her words silenced, realizing she has spilled the beans. Her eyes dance to Shane then back again, gathering her thoughts. “Oh, that.”
“Yes, that...is she all right?” Gabrian sets her tea down and watches the old woman’s every move. “When is she coming back?”
“I can’t tell you, dear...It is not my place,” Madorrah offers, shaking her head and lowers her eyes just for a moment.
Feeling the heat creep into her face from the clear shutdown by the woman fuels Gabrian’s need to push for unanswered truths. Just as she gets ready to bombard her with questions, she hears the words she dreaded would come.
“I can’t help you today,” the old woman says softly, pushing her twisted body up from her stool. “I wanted to see you, look upon you with my own eyes so that my decisions are validated and the clarity in my choices pristine. All I can offer you is...she loves you and that you must believe in yourself in order to find what you seek.”
Gabrian’s stomach aches. Unsure if it is the strange tea she just drank or the continual feeling of exclusion from the beings in this Realm—always seemingly left out of the loop just enough to keep her guessing and confused as to how to press forward—she sits still, slipping her finger around the roughly-shaped clay cup and bites down on her bottom lip just enough to keep her tongue silent in her mouth and keep it from lashing out at the old woman.
“And, I am sorry, dear.”
Gabrian forces her gaze to clear from her unfocused staring, to meet the storm clouds brewing within the old woman’s eyes.
“I have to deny you your request—the one that you w
ere seeking today.”
Gabrian’s eyes narrow under her pressed brow and her jaw pops, no longer hiding her frustration. “What do you mean? I haven’t even told you why I am here.”
Shane slides his hand over to touch hers, but she rips it away, not allowing his well-meant sympathy. The woman clears her used cup from the table and removes the half-filled cup from Shane’s hand, putting them both in the sink. She then shuffles her way closer to Gabrian and waits for the girl to release her grip on the cup in her hand. Seeing the old woman’s wants, Gabrian relinquishes the cup, still trying to figure out what just happened.
“I understand your intentions, and I feel the internal desolation that wreaks havoc on your soul, but you are not Schaeduwe. I cannot give you what you seek,” she says, patting Gabrian on the hand where Shane had just tried. “I am sorry, child. I wish I could help you,” she says, turning her back to Gabrian and retreats with the cup.
“But you can, you have the magic.” Gabrian jumps to her feet, chasing behind the woman—towering over her and filled with confusion as she tried to plead her case. “Shane told me about the stones and how you...”
“Oh, my dear,” she breathes out shaking her head slowly, raising her boney hand to rest on Gabrian’s arm. “The only solace I can give you is that there are rules. With everything we do, there must be rules. It is necessary to enforce them in order to maintain balance, however cruel and harsh they may seem at the time, they are still necessary.” She steps past Gabrian who stares at her open-jawed and stagnant. “But,” the old woman continues, now standing in the dark entrance to the back room. “If you understand the rules in their entirety, then you will also learn that they can be bent—not broken mind you, but indeed they can be bent.” With those words slipping off of the old woman’s tongue, her form disappears into the darkness.
