Calico (The Covenant of Shadows Book 2)

by Kade Cook

  Nothing.

  Feeling the frustration become unbearable—tying knots in the middle of her shoulder blades—she slips the key into the lock and twists.

  Taking a long sip of her latte, she sets it on the kitchen counter with her keys and heads straight for the shower to wash off the staleness of the flight. With enough hot water, she hopes to drown herself within its warm misty cocoon, slip into a peaceful vortex of sorts, and let everything bad that has happened to her in this Realm disappear down the drain with the soapsuds.

  60

  EVALUATED LEVERAGE

  HOVERING OVER THE DARK barren hole that has come to be known as Adrinn’s abode, Cimmerian glares down at the dreadful spot with tears of frustration blurring his vision. The air around him thins as he pushes his hand out, letting them hover at his sides. A violet hue silhouettes the outline of his fingers as his palms build with the Magik that dwells inside of him. Crackling hisses sting the air as Cimmerian fires the first orb of Magik at the ground, knocking on Adrinn’s door.

  The ground tremors as Cimmerian’s Magik punches against the Earth, pushing a slight indent into its tender flesh. He raises his left arm and wipes away the wetness in his eyes with the back of his hand then lowers it again, filling his palm with Magik once more. With no reply to his gentle rapping, Cimmerian releases his fury with both hands and the Earth’s skin forms a jagged crack, snaking the ground in front of him.

  “Come out, Adrinn,” he shouts, a note of hysterics lingering in his tone. “It is time to end this madness. I am done playing your games.” Cimmerian shakes his hands, feeling the abundance of violet fire yearning to break free.

  A smoky thick mist breaks from the walls of Erebus, climbing out from within the breach in the ground, and slides across the darkened distance standing between it and Cimmerian. Writhing and switching in place, the mist takes form, and in front of him appears the image of the Specter he has come to see.

  Wearing the always smug twist of his lips, Adrinn welcomes his guest. “Well, well...it seems that you have your knickers tied up in a knot about something. To what do I owe this delightful visit?”

  “I am done.” Cimmerian waves his hands back and forth between Adrinn and himself in a frantic motion, gasping for breath. “This, whatever kind of sick means of torturous game you are playing here with me, it’s done. I am done.”

  Adrinn’s grin deepens and his eyes brighten with a yellowish glow. He tilts his head and locks eyes with Cimmerian. “Whatever do you mean?” he taunts. “I thought we were friends.”

  “I can’t do this anymore, this whole dancing on the fence between you and your demented requests and the responsibilities I have to the Covenant of Shadows. I refuse to play both sides any longer. It drove Caspyous to the edge and I refuse to let it destroy me.”

  “I’m sorry...I have obviously missed something marvelous. Please do go on, dear boy, I am quite curious to know what you are blathering on about.”

  “Théoden’s son, Caspyous, the one that took his place at the High Table after his demise has been incarcerated, held in contempt for attempting to kill the girl.”

  Adrinn huffs out a chuckle and rubs the edge of his grinning face. “Ah yes, I was wondering how that turned out.”

  “You knew?”

  “Let’s just say a little birdie may have whispered something in my ear about it.”

  Cimmerian clenches his fists, the violet fire within them hisses in protest, shooting out in sparks from between the crevices in his fingers. “The greed of power pushed him over the edge. He went mad with it and they found out.” He turns on his heels and begins to pace, staring at the ground. “I have been suppressing everything about our interactions—about you and the girl—people are starting to notice. I will not let you destroy my standing of respect within my peers. I will not let your selfish wants destroy my life, not again. It is over, Adrinn.”

  “Let me explain this to you in a way so that you will understand.” Adrinn grins but his eyes show no compassion for the receiver of his words. “You need me,” he spits out at Cimmerian, burning him with the bitter truth they carry as visions of his daughter haunt his mind. “In order for you to save your precious Symone, you must do as I ask you to do. And, you will continue to mentor my daughter. Then I, in return, save yours. It is as simple as that.”

  Cimmerian’s eyes narrow. “Your daughter?”

  “Oh yes, haven’t you heard? Rumor has it that my beloved Cera was a very good secret keeper, among other things, or so I am told. The girl, the wild youngling it seems, just happens to be the offspring of my loins,” Adrinn prattles on, his mouth wide and upturned. “Who would have guessed it? Me, a father.”

  Cimmerian’s eyes widen and his head begins to reel. Everything he has observed about her, all the ‘gifts’ that have been manifesting...it makes perfect sense. No wonder Caspyous panicked and tried to do away with her. She could become something more, something much more.

  “So, you see, old boy, it’s a perfect partnership. You do as I say, and I will give you what you so badly desire...eventually.” He snickers, slithering his vaporous body to the far edge of the blackened Earth and sits upon the large amethyst stone, smug grin still displaying on his lips.

  “No, that is where you are wrong, Adrinn. I choose to end this now, tonight. Now give me my daughter!”

  “Oh dear. I do apologize.”

  “What?”

  “I believe I may have misled you a bit.” The fiend pinches his fingers together in front of his face, narrowing his eyes and pursing his sinister grin. “You see, you have no choice in the matter.” He disappears from his perch then reappears to lurch over Cimmerian’s back. “If I were to give you what you so dearly long for, the return of your precious Symone within your spindly arms, then I will give away every ounce of leverage I hold over you, thus rendering our endearing relationship mute. And that, my dear Cimmerian, would be a travesty, don’t you think?”

  Cimmerian’s teeth grind, making the sides of his jaw pulse, the center of his palms flare as he turns around, and his black eyes rush to glare at the monster before him.

  “Regardless of how much one whines about it, leverage is everything, and I do like having it heavily weighted on my side.”

  Adrinn’s voice slices at Cimmerian’s ears like a dull rusted knife. Not able to stand hearing it any longer, and not willing to swallow down any more of his sickening poison, Cimmerian snaps, raising his eyes and focuses in on the monster, breath settling in his lungs as he gathers himself. Shaking his fingers, the Magik comes alive once more within his palms, snapping at their master’s command for its presence. “You want leverage?”

  Adrinn turns his head to mock his guest but the smug grin slips from his face. The tone in Cimmerian’s voice alerts him to the power of the enraged mage before him. His body, silhouetted by the glowing violet aura that whips around him like a vision of death itself in a wild and feral storm about to unleash with eyes as black as night itself.

  “I will show you what leverage is.”

  61

  SPILLED COFFEE

  AFTER TWENTY MINUTES of letting the magic of the warm shower flow over her body, Gabrian lets go of the moment and smiles, thinking how great it was to see Thomas again. She wonders about the strange entanglement that took place between his and Ethan’s auras and the fact Ethan thought he was nothing more than human. Her mind whirls. The curiosity in these unknowns distracts her and eases the knots in her stomach about her own anxious dilemma, at least for a moment.

  Finishing in the shower, she dries off and twists her long dark hair up into a towel—tucking it like a turban at the top of her head—then climbs head first into the fuzzy giraffe jammies, faithfully waiting for her on the sink. She is not expected at the office until noon, so the rest of the evening is hers to unwind and make things right again with Shane, she hopes.

  Hearing her phone buzz from atop the kitchen counter below, a stinging surge of adrenaline shocks her senses and she nearly br
eaks the door down trying to get to it. She skips down the stairs—missing three at a time. Picking it up and flipping it over, her heart pounds in her ears. New message displays as she opens the screen but lowers her hand back down, holding it still, smile transformed into a frown. Matthias is not the name she had hoped to see on her screen. Not that she does not like hearing from him, normally she would have been more than happy to read his message, but not today.

  She sighs, letting out a deep wave of sadness and rips the towel from her head—her tangled damp locks drape over her yellow giraffes, cloaking them from seeking her disappointment.

  A loud buzz hums from within her hand, surprising her, and she drops the gadget on the floor. Fumbling as she tries to pick it back up, she finally clasps hold of it and turns it over to read the screen.

  Shane: Yah.

  Gabrian: I need you.

  Shane: Are you OK?

  Gabrian: Yes, no... Listen, I was wrong. Everything I said, everything I did to push you away. I was wrong.

  Shane: Stop.

  Gabrian: No, I need to explain.

  No response.

  Gabrian: I just need to hear the sound of your voice.

  Gabrian: Shane, please.

  Still no response.

  Gabrian: Are you there?

  Shane: Just give me a few minutes. Okay?

  Gabrian: Okay. Will I see you soon?

  Shane: Yah. Soon.

  Gabrian’s cheeks grow pink with relief, a thousand tons of weigh lift, and her body floats in the excitement of seeing his face. Even if he shows nothing but hatred in his eyes for what she has done, it feels like forever since she has looked upon him—the last two weeks seem a lifetime ago.

  Her heart flutters beneath her chest as she debates her emotions. Shame punches at her for how badly she treated him, but she is elated by thoughts of just seeing him, his presence standing before her in her kitchen, and that he agreed to show. She knows that she has cut him deeply, but she will find a way to fix what she has done. She must for the sake of their survival within the Realm.

  She stills her shaky legs by jumping up on the countertop, letting them swing idly below as she plays out what she is going to say to him. Reaching to the side, she grabs her latte and takes a long draw of the lukewarm liquid and smiles, happy to be home and awaits the arrival of her guardian, hoping for forgiveness and to wrap him in the love he deserves from her.

  The sting of a strong surge of energy erupts all around her and Gabrian is jarred from her daydream of solace. Violet strings of Magik wrap around her, crackling and snapping, making hairs on her arms rise along her skin as everything goes dark, sucking Gabrian into a void of swirling blackness until her body is no more. All that remains is a large latte container, resting on its side. Its innards spill, running out across the surface of the countertop, laying waste to espresso and cream as it drips onto the floor below.

  62

  UP TO HER OLD TRICKS

  STEPPING FROM OF THE shadows, just outside the front door of Gabrian’s parent’s house, Shane feels the sharp sting of nerves biting at him, making his arm shake as he raises his hand to knock. Not having seen her since she left him standing alone in the rain, he can barely stand the strain of his heart twisting beneath his ribs. The distance between them only caused him more grief. He was a fool to think that staying away would help with the pain.

  He raps his knuckles gently on the outside of the door and waits, holding his breath.

  Not getting a reply, he knocks a little harder this time.

  Still nothing.

  His heart jumps, feeling a familiar unsettling drop in his chest as his mind recalls a certainty he hopes is just a coincidence. He closes his eyes to concentrate on any energy inside. Not finding any trace of life nearby, he reaches for the door handle and twists it open. The sting of black Magik hits his nose as it lingers in the air. Shane pushes past the door and rushes inside, startled by the sight waiting for him.

  On the cupboard is an overturned take-out coffee cup—marked Coffee Hound—spilled and running onto the floor, pooling into a puddle.

  If he knows anything about anything in Gabrian’s world, this is a definite crime scene if he has ever seen one.

  63

  BLACK MAGIC

  DANCING IN A WEIGHTLESS dome suspended just above the ground, Gabrian blinks her eyes open and tries to focus. The high-pitched sound of Black Magik pierces her ears and scrapes at the insides of her skull.

  Where am I?

  Tightening her eyes, she concentrates on a muffled noise in the distance—the sound of people shouting. Straining to find them, her eyes ache as the night vision engages in the darkness. She is able to make out two forms. Pushing harder to focus, she recognizes who they are. Cimmerian and Adrinn, engaged in some kind of confrontation. Unable to hear what the two are arguing about, Gabrian studies the violet glowing walls of her prison and gets the feeling it is something that must concern her.

  She yells out to them.

  Bad move.

  The Magik within the orb enters Gabrian’s lungs, choking her as it sears the sides of her throat causing her to cough and grab her neck in pain. Adrinn glances in her direction but Cimmerian stands firm, not flinching in the least at her insignificant plea. His hand is still raised, pulsing with Magik while strands of violet light reach out toward her, tickling the outside edges of her intangible prison.

  The tips of her fingers tingle, warming up in her struggle to get attention, but she soon learns that tactic is useless. She is ignored and any chance of them letting her out it is ignored along with her. She will have to figure this out on her own.

  She stares down at her hands and flips them over. Gabrian’s palms ignite in a subtle mauve glow. Reaching out to touch at the sides of the magical orb, she presses them forward and tries to sear a hole in the crackling violet wall holding her against her will, but nothing yields. Contrary to her attempts of escape, the enchanted wall draws in whatever Magik she uses—draining her like a battery. She releases her hold on the orb and it slows, to her relief, but she can still feel it licking at her energy level. Knowing nothing about how this Magik works, Gabrian decides trying to escape from it does more harm than good. All she can do now is try to stay away from its sheath, or better yet, find a way to protect herself from it before it drains her dry.

  *.*.*

  “Give me my daughter!” Cimmerian demands, eyes hazed over in the colour of midnight. “Or I will end yours.”

  “Come now, don’t be so hasty.” The remnants of the Vampire shifts uncomfortably, realizing that the tables have shifted and not in his favour. “Just release the girl from the orb and we shall have a more civilized conversation.”

  “You first,” Cimmerian hisses, his voice low and ominous, face showing no empathy to the fiend’s request. “I will hold her in there as long as it takes.”

  “It is not that simple,” his voice quivers. “It is more complicated than that. I can’t just pull Symone out, there are rules—there are sacrifices to be made.”

  “I think I have sacrificed quite enough,” Cimmerian growls. “I believe it is your turn to feel what sacrifice is like.”

  Adrinn glances over at his daughter’s crypt, watching it eat away at her Magik, her life force, and knows her time is limited within the orb. The containment spell Cimmerian propels around her is too strong in his furious state.

  “You must let her out of that orb. You will kill her,” Adrinn tries to reason, knowing things are going bad as he takes note of the ground. It begins to smolder with the haze of Gargons, death seekers, who have caught the scent of a meal—time is running out. “Then where will you be? No one wins in that game.”

  FROM THE EDGE OF THE trees within the cover of night, Shane traces Gabrian’s energy and finds the strange scene unfolding. Unsure of what to make of it, Shane reaches into the shadows and sends an urgent message through the Veil to his father, giving a brief mental recount of what he is witnessing. It is imperative that Ariah s
ummon the Elders and tell them their immediate attendance is requested by the guardian to the Silver Mage.

  The ground cracks. Fissures vein across the ground as venomous poison oozes out of the ground, seeping toward the suspended orb. Gabrian stills herself upon the sizzling floor of her tomb. She no longer hears anything of the outside world over the ringing in her head. Flickers of her dwindling Magik still reside within her veins, labouring against the Black Mage’s entrapment of her soul. She feels like she is drowning, her lungs heavy, and the need to draw in air is shallow and scorching as she drags in a ragged breath, coughing.

  The Gargons take form beneath the orb, their spindly webs darting in and out of the contoured hole that marks a mouth on their face—sensing her last remaining strands of life just above them and tasting her spirit as it slips from the world. Grasping onto the sphere and reaching into the Magik touching her, Gabrian shifts her eyes toward them and a faint smile grows across her lips. Her hand slides toward them as they pull at her skin.

  For a moment, she releases the creatures from her sight as her eyes breach the darkness and catch on the familiar form standing within the shadows in the distance. Her eyes glaze over, blurring her last glimpse of him, and her heart sings out one final song.

  He’s here—he came back.

  Then as if a silent voice calls to her, she blinks him away and returns to the death keepers drawing her down through the orb’s violet membrane, as if it were a mirage, and into the crevice that awaits their return to Erebus.

  Feeling the brief weight of Gabrian’s eyes on him and sparse strands of her essence still remaining in the space across the field, Shane breaks from his message and rushes forward to reach her, but it is too late. No longer does her spirit reside on Earth—even her body is gone. Only the lingering smell of her skin remains in the void. The Gargons have taken her and crossed over into the barrier between the dimensions. All that remains is the noise of bickering between an oblivious Derkaz Elder and a familiar phantom-like form.