by Leena Maria
Mr. Donnelly had to check and double check that he had translated the text correctly. Finally he had to admit that he was right. And that meant Merit had somehow travelled back in time to ancient Egypt.
"Mi-Wer... I know that name from somewhere..."
Mr. Donnelly considered a moment, repeating what she had written.
"A lake, she said... And a pyramid nearby, itseems. Crocodiles... Mi-Wer..."
He put the sketchbook and the Moleskine with its pen into the pocket of his loose dressing gown. He went out of his office, locking the door behind him, and into the library. With determined steps he walked to the ancient Egyptian section.
It did not take him long to find what he was looking for. In a book about the ancient palaces and abodes of Egypt, he read that Mi-Wer was located in a time that was one of the grandest and richest of the Pharaonic period. Now he knew where and when Merit was trapped. The modern date at the beginning of the sketch book was a few years back in the time of the ordinary world. Mr. Donnelly wondered whether she was already dead. Or... perhaps she was still there, living in mortal time exactly the same way she would have been living it with Elijah, in modern times?
The idea was mind-boggling. Mr. Donnelly had never thought about time travel, because it should not be possible. Yet his own experience in the City of Immortals told him time was not as linear as was generally thought.
"Poor girl," he whispered, "you are still there, aren't you? Living in those distant years, unable to reach Elijah. Do you hope that Elijah can travel across time to reach you, then?"
He had to translate more, as soon as possible. He had to know. With hurried steps he scuttled back to his office, his worn slippers threatening to drop from his feet, carrying the book about Egyptian architecture under his arm.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
36. Tracked Down
The message had been passed to the Hunter. The shadow waited, hidden away, out of sight of the big building. It had recognized the smell of not just one, but three Time Walker Hunters that it had encountered during its long life.
This time the shadow knew that it had done well. It had been responsible for the discovery of the meeting place of the Hunters, or at least these three Hunters, a place the Masters had been trying to locate for a long time. It had followed the smell of the car, which was easier after it had left the main road, and its nostrils were not blocked by pollution and dust. And even though the car was out of sight, the smell of Hunters brought on the wind warned it in time and it withdrew before it came within sight of the big house.
Then suddenly she was there, appearing next to the shadow without warning, along with the shadow's own Hunter. The shadow retreated a few steps, and bowed its head respectfully. Both figures were hooded.
Clearly she was pleased, because the next words she spoke were unexpected, both to the shadow and its Hunter.
"Well done," she said to the shadow, "you have earned the right to live. Finally we know where their Hunters are gathering."
The shadow made obeisance, with a curious sense that amounted to achievement. She ignored it, as she and the Hunter were observing the building closely.
"She will be there, no doubt," she said to the Hunter. "What better place to keep her safe than nested in a lair of their Hunters."
"Indeed, my lady," the Hunter nodded from within the folds of his cloak. He never exposed his skin to daylight, if it could be avoided. His skin looked too different from ordinary human skin in bright daylight.
"Now, the question is how to get her out of there."
"A direct attack..."
"No, for the present it is vital they have no idea we have found them," she snapped. "There will be no attacks, or else they may quickly hide her from us again."
"No, my Lady. We shall follow your orders."
"It is well that you do..." she said, but her tone was almost absentminded rather than intimidating. "Thankfully, this was easy to predict. It was most likely that they would hide her, if they sensed us observing her, but I made plans long ago to lure her out, if needed. Once we removed her friend it became even easier."
The Hunter considered her words, knowing that ultimately the girl would have no chance.
"You," a nod towards the shadow, "will watch this place closely. If the Huntress leaves, follow her. We will send more shadows to assist. You must not fail. You will not fail."
The shadow bowed almost to the ground in front of the beautiful and imperious woman. It would have answered respectfully, but the Masters had taken away its ability to speak. That was all because of the old Huntress. How the shadow would have loved to make her pay, for that loss alone.
She and the shadow's Hunter vanished, as though they had slipped below the surface of a lake. For a while their shadowy figures could be seen, and then they were gone. The shadow lay flat on the hill, behind the bushes, in a depression on the side of the hill, sheltered from any wind that might spread its scent. Its gaze did not shift from the great building. Its patience was endless whilst stalking its prey.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
37. Hunting Shadow
We set out in Grandma's car that evening.
"We're not going to use the buffer zone, because you are not used to it yet and you'd probably fall asleep. Not that it matters, but it's better to stay awake and alert all the time, if there is the slightest chance of encountering any shadows," Grandma said. "We're driving to the nearest city where we'll meet Daniel. There's been no sign of any shadow following us from the university, so it looks as though we've shaken them off our tail."
It was a bit of a relief to know that I would not be travelling in Grandma's tiny sports car squashed in between Grandma and Daniel.
It took us half an hour to reach our destination. Grandma drove to a rundown area, where there were lots of pubs and a few nightclubs. Some revellers were already stumbling about in the streets and there was cheering and drunken shouting going on.
"There's no point in going to the more upmarket areas – people there use taxis to go home, but here there are plenty of people who are so drunk they often walk when they leave - or get thrown out," Grandma commented. "Many of them don't have cars anyway, or they don't have them with them."
She parked by the side of the road where her vehicle was clearly visible and vehicles came and went all the time. There was a police car parked up further down the street. "If I left this car in a side alley, someone would break into it right away. Also I can't drive near the bar we are going to keep an eye on, because the shadows know my car," she added tartly. "The price of vanity... I can't stay incognito near this car."
We walked along the road. It was well-lit, but I was starting to feel slightly uncomfortable.
"Now, we're going to the alley on the other side of the street from that bar..." she pointed at a light sign that was flashing nearby. It wasn't working properly. "I know that shadows use that one as a rich hunting spot, but they don't know I know, because I have not hunted them here yet. It's let them be lulled into a false sense of security. They get careless then."
We crossed the street. I did not like the looks some of the men threw my way, nor the noises that they made at me. But they didn't say anything, once Grandma had looked at them directly. She had such authority they thought better of it and decided to shut up. I didn't wonder. She walked as though she was in her twenties, and her posture revealed she knew how to defend herself. Her eyes showed no fear. I'm sure no one would have been surprised, if she had suddenly taken an oriental defense position in the middle of the street or done a few backflips and cartwheels. My Grandma the martial arts movie star...?
The alley itself was like something out of the set of a detective series. Trash cans - or rubbish bins, as they called them here - soggy cardboard boxes, filth. Stuff that had been dumped by nearby shops, take-aways and pubs. If my mother had known where Grandma had taken me, she would have severed their relationship for good.
"We're going to the very back, there." Grandma pointe
d to the dark end of the alley. "Any shadow that appears will position itself right behind those rubbish bins, where it has a better view of the bar door."
Daniel appeared out of thin air in front of us. I nearly jumped out of my skin.
"How did you do that? Do you have one of the Keys?"
"One can always step down from the buffer zone to one's real living environment, without the use of Keys. That's how the disappeared ones in the stories just suddenly appeared back in their own world, and into a different time without knowing how they returned," Grandma explained. "It's the going back to the buffer zone that requires the Keys or an existing gate. But the Nephilim can go both ways without Keys. The wings seem to create a vibration that opens a portal away from the physical world."
I remembered how Daniel's wings had appeared and the slight bending of the air on their outer edges. It resembled something floating on water - too light to sink into it, but solid enough to bend the surface of the water.
We moved silently into the shadows of the alley, behind some boxes that had been stacked untidily on top of each other.
"Now we need to be totally quiet. I'll touch your hand when a shadow appears – if it appears. Look then on this side of the rubbish bins and see if you can spot it," whispered Grandma.
We stood there, without moving. I tried not to pay attention to the bad smell around us. It seemed that someone had dumped garbage bags down the alley and it stank as though something had been rotting there for a considerable time. I did not want to know what it was. The little noises that I heard suggested we were probably accompanied by rats. Delightful.
As time ticked by, I had to move my body weight slightly from one leg to the other every once in a while, but Daniel stood like a tall statue by my side seemingly without any discomfort. I could not ignore his presence – I could feel his body heat on the right side of my body, while my left side was cold. He was totally quiet, but somehow I sensed he felt awkward standing next to me. If I could have done, I would have apologized for hurting his wings, but we had to stay quiet.
If anyone had told me some weeks earlier that I would find myself in a back alley next to an angel (well, half an angel, I suppose), chasing shadows that were created by individuals who called themselves Immortals, and who lived in a strange buffer zone around our world... where you could meet the dearly departed... or if I had been told earlier that vampires were real... I think I would have voluntarily committed myself for treatment. Now, however, I had visited the buffer zone, seen gateways to it, met my dead friend for an all too brief moment, talked with someone who descended from angels, discovered my grandmother was a Huntress of shadows...
I decided I'd better accept it all, and not think too much about it, or I would really go crazy. The evidence of it all being true was overwhelming so there was no point in fighting it. Maybe my brain would find a way to make it all feel natural to me, given time. How much time though?
We must have stood there for an hour. I found a balanced posture - feet slightly apart, with knees ever so slightly bent. Still, my feet were getting really tired in my light tennis shoes, when suddenly there was movement by the trash bin. The darkness seemed to concentrate more, and suddenly there was a form there.
Grandma was standing close to me and only needed to move her little finger to touch my hand, but I could not nod, because the shadow might see the movement. I could see it very clearly now. To me it looked like some sort of werewolf, only more fluid, and not so angled as you would expect a wolf to look. Its profile showed a canine muzzle, but human forehead and the ears...they were sort of human and animal at once. If you've never considered ears to be frightening, believe me, these were. I had to close my eyes when panic hit me again. White flashes exploded in the darkness of my eyes, like fireworks on the closed lids. Was I going to pass out? I remembered seeing this kind of a monster as a child. I had to control myself. I told myself that if I moved, the shadow would turn and see me. Bile rose into my mouth from sheer horror.
Right then the door to the bar across the street opened and a drunken man tottered out onto the sidewalk. He was trying to light a cigarette and migrated hand over hand, picket-fence-style towards the alley, clicking on his lighter, which refused to cooperate. An angry driver blew his horn as he drove past, but the man was so drunk he just waved his hand dismissively, barely noticing the vehicle.
The shadow rose from its hiding place and stepped in front of the man. He sensed something there and tried to focus in front of him with narrowed, bleary eyes. Suddenly the shadow turned darker and more solid. The cigarette fell from the man's lips and his mouth opened. He was too shocked to speak.
I had never expected to be able see the energy-stealing thing with my own eyes, because I had never witnessed energy as such, not in the way people talked about auras and stuff, but now I could see the man's energy quite clearly. It just shot out from his stomach area, like a fountain. The shadow grabbed it with its... hands. They were more like paws, but they moved as though there were no bones in them, more like...like... tentacles. The creature's hands started rolling the energy into a ball just as if it was preparing a ball of yarn for knitting. The horrified man fell onto his knees because of the strength of the pulling. It was hideous - this strange effect of an almost recognizably domestic movement of yarn rolling, along with something that was akin to evisceration.
Daniel shot into motion in the blink of an eye and arrived at the scene like an arrow from a bow. He raised his hand. The shadow was concentrating so hard on reeling in the man's energy that it did not have time to react. Daniel's hand rose and fell like a whip at the back of the shadow's neck. I saw a greyish flash, and the shadow fell on its face on the street. The energy it was holding in its arms rolled onto the ground and started slowly withdrawing back towards the pancreatic area of the drunken man who was kneeling and moaning on the sidewalk.
The shadow began to lose its form. For a while it crawled about on the ground aimlessly, shaking, with its movements growing ever more feeble. Then finally all movement ceased and it began to decrease in size. It crumpled in on itself like a piece of cloth.
Grandma walked to the man and helped him to get up onto his feet.
"You should not drink so much, young man!" She managed a proper grandma-voice, which contradicted her youthful appearance. "Your body can only take so much abuse!"
"N...no... Thank you.. Did - did - you see it...?" the man's face was grey with shock and he looked wildly around him.
"See what?" Grandma asked kindly.
"The monster..." he whispered.
"There are no monsters here." Grandma's tone allowed no objections. "If you have begun to see pink elephants, I suggest you stop drinking. Or else you might end up with hallucinations for the rest of your life!"
The man breathed a few deep breaths, still looking ill.
"Do you need a taxi?" Grandma asked.
"No, thank you, I think I'd be better walking to clear my head," the man said weakly and turned his back on us. He took a few feeble steps, and began to walk away as fast as his drunken state would allow. He seemed to be sobering up quickly.
"Follow him, just in case," Grandma nudged Daniel, "there may be other shadows around."
The man disappeared round the corner of the block, Daniel walking after him at a discreet distance. I noticed a little card on the ground where the man had fallen, and lifted it up.
"Fortune telling. Messages from the other side. Angel consultation," the card said.
I turned it around. "Kitty's Divinations" was printed under a picture of a cat staring at a crystal ball.
I slid it into my pocket.
Wind took the remains of the shadow and scattered them in a fine dust along the street.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
38. Letters to the Moon
The Hunter did not socialise much with anyone. He felt the weight of centuries on his shoulders, and intellectually the younger Hunters seemed to be like children. Well, they were, compared to
him. Some were children he had made himself, to keep the bloodline alive, so that she would never be forgotten and would live on in her children of the night, until he could find a way to get her back.
Sometimes he left the shadow world and traveled back to where he had met her so very long ago, especially when he needed to be alone. He was allowed to do so, because of his long years of service to the Masters. His shadow servant kept up surveillance while the Hunter was gone and alerted him if he was needed.
Tonight the Masters had set the trap successfully. His shadow had observed the whole thing from the rooftop above the alley. It had sent a message to ask if it should try to get the girl once the trap was sprung, but the Hunter said no. He did not want to lose his faithful servant, even though he was prepared to make a new shadow, if this one was killed. Their Huntress, the woman, was too dangerous. He had seen her fight. And the Nephilim they had with them was so powerful the shadow would not have had a chance. No, they must wait for the girl to come to them, alone, and be ready when she did.
After the night's work, he had withdrawn into the buffer zone and travelled along its paths to his own private place in the human world. It was a high cliff in the middle of a wilderness, where it was not likely he would meet humans and be tempted by them. Here he sat like a statue, free of his enveloping cloak and hood. His pale golden skin was colder than the night air. His shiny black hair fell onto his shoulders as he sat motionless under the vast black sky and watched the moon in its orbit. He knew its movements by heart and was keenly aware of the time and place of its rising and setting.
With him he had pieces of paper, and blood that he had taken from a bird he had killed. When he finally moved, it was to write to her with the blood, using a quill from his kill just as he used to do. He dipped the tip of the quill into the little glass bottle containing the blood. The blood did not shimmer with life as it had in the distant past, when she was there to read his notes. It was not the right kind, of course...
