Walking Through Shadows

by Sheri Lewis Wohl

  Aquene smiled again. “Molly. It is a fine name.”

  Noted, but really, what she thought about her name didn’t matter. Other things were more important right now. “Explain what you mean about knowing my face.” Was it because of her online presence or was it something else? The part about saving the people, she could sideline temporarily. She was more interested in finding out what Aquene meant by that statement.

  Aquene tilted her head and peered at Molly intently. “Have you not seen my face in your dreams?”

  “Ah, that would be a no.”

  Confusion clouded the dark eyes. “Of that I am surprised, for you have been in my dreams for many days now. I have been waiting for you to come to me. I was certain you were waiting for me too.”

  Okay, a little freaky. How did she know Molly had dreams that sometimes came to pass? Her dreams of late had been filled with fire and ashes, not faces of beautiful women. “The only thing I’ve been waiting for is an insurance adjuster to write his report and close my claim.” She hugged the book again. For some reason, it gave her comfort. Most likely for no other reason than it gave her something to hold on to.

  The confusion deepened in her eyes. “The insurance adjuster?” The words sounded clumsy coming out of her mouth, as if she’d never said them before.

  Molly waved her hand. “Never mind. You’ve seen me in your dreams?” She was still more interested in that than anything else.

  The smile returned to Aquene’s face. “Yes.” That single word sounded so confident.

  “Hey, Moll?” Molly turned to look at Winnie, who was wide-eyed and shaking her head. “I’m not a hundred percent on this, but I think we just stepped into a wormhole or something wonky like that. You might want to put on your witch hat and figure out what’s going on here.”

  Wormhole? Not likely. To do something like that would take more magic than she possessed. “Winnie. What are you talking about?”

  “We’re in a different place.”

  Molly took a quick glance around. They were in the same place, and the only change was the plus one. “No, we’re not. We’re still in the cabin.”

  “Yeah, in the cabin, but look closer. It’s in a different time. Wormhole, Molly. As in Jules Verne kind of stuff. You know, time travel.” Winnie sounded like she was trying patiently to explain something to someone particularly dim.

  “I don’t think so.” She knew she didn’t sound all that convincing. Truth was, she’d heard stories of people being able to walk through time, but they were just stories, right? Even though she knew magic was real, even her beliefs went only so far. Except… She glanced back down at the transformed grimoire in her hands.

  “I have to agree with my woman, here, Molly. We’re not in the twenty-first century anymore. I mean, look around. Old and creaky it ain’t. Doesn’t even smell the same, if you catch my drift? Where’s the dust and the mold?”

  She looked around and her heart began to pound. Maybe Angus and Winnie had a point. The cabin did look different, and yeah, it smelled a whole lot better than when they’d first come through the door. She just couldn’t get past knowing how much magic it would take to make a leap like that and also sure she didn’t possess it. She took a deep breath and returned her attention to Aquene. This woman spoke perfect English, and if they had traveled in time, that wouldn’t be the case. Right? Made sense to her. “Tell me, Aquene. What year is it?” She intended to put the time-travel question to bed once and for all.

  Tilting her head, Aquene said matter-of-factly, “1837.”

  * * *

  “I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!” Winnie should be scared, but it hit her with sudden clarity that she wasn’t, not even a little. In fact, this would make an awesome episode on one of those ghost-busting reality shows. They were going to be TV stars. How fun would that be?

  Her enthusiasm took a sudden dip when she gave it a little more thought. They would be stars if they weren’t currently in the nineteenth century. No television and nobody who would believe they had just gone back in time nearly two hundred years. Shoot, she wouldn’t believe it either if she wasn’t seeing and feeling it for herself. Everything had changed in the blink of an eye, along with a lot of earth shaking and screaming.

  They were in the same cabin, only it wasn’t old and dusty anymore, and it was warm and lighted by flames of a fire in the fireplace. Outside the window, the tree they’d noticed on the way in still stood there, only now it showed signs of burning in the not-too-distant past. The biggest change was the landscape. One glance outside and the difference was clear. The trees were thicker, the ground rougher, and most important, the trails that had brought them to this place were gone.

  They were in the year 1837. It was a crazy notion, yet she believed it. A feeling deep in her heart told it was true, and darn it, she was going with it. Winnie would be the first to admit she adored those ghost-hunter reality shows. It was probably one reason she’d been attracted to Angus. She loved hearing his stories rich in the Irish culture of paranormal beings, especially with his alluring accent. The fact that he was screaming hot didn’t hurt either.

  Grabbing Angus by the arm, she stared into his eyes. “It’s true, isn’t it? It wasn’t your granny’s banshee causing havoc. We just took the express train to the past.”

  Angus studied her for a moment and then turned his gaze to the window. He was shaking his head. “I don’t know, darlin’, but things aren’t the same as they were a couple of minutes ago. Sure sounded like the scream of a banshee. Don’t recall Granny ever saying they could bend time.”

  “Oh, come on,” Molly protested. “It’s impossible. We can’t just pop into another century. Things like that don’t happen, especially not to people like us. I don’t have that kind of magic.”

  Winnie looked around and disagreed. Not only did she believe it was possible, but she was sure it was true. They were in the same cabin, in the same location, but the differences were glaring enough to give weight to the time-change idea. Molly wasn’t looking close enough. Denial wasn’t going to change a thing.

  “Me thinks thou dost protest too much.”

  Molly rolled her eyes at Winnie’s badly quoted Shakespeare. “Really?”

  Winnie wasn’t giving up. She pointed to the left. “Does that table look a little newer to you?”

  Molly dropped her gaze to the table and ran her fingers over the top. “A little,” she said grudgingly.

  “About her?” She nodded her head toward Aquene. “Did you see her when we came inside to get out of the rain? Did you see anyone who looked like her anywhere nearby during our hike or when we hauled ass here?”

  “No…”

  “I think my lady has a point.” Angus was smiling at Winnie. “I believe, my dearests, that we have the makings of a great paranormal movie.”

  “A movie?” Molly sounded incredulous. “Seriously? Everything is going wonky around us, and that’s what you think of first? You’re as bad as Winnie and her Shakespeare.”

  Winnie laughed. First and foremost, her man was an artist, and she wasn’t in the least surprised that’s where his thoughts had jumped to first. His hobby might be historical research, but his bread and butter was performing art. “Actually, my initial thought was a reality show. Shakespeare was an afterthought, though I gotta say I like the movie idea better. It would be awesome.”

  “What is a movie?” Aquene asked, looking from one face to the other. She wouldn’t have a clue, would she? If they were in the 1800s, it would be quite a while before anyone came to close to working out that little bit of technology.

  “It’s not important,” Winnie said. “What is important is figuring out how we got here and why. Then we can see what we’ll need to do to get back. This is interesting and all but don’t think I want to spend very much time here. I’ll bet there’s not an indoor bathroom to be found.”

  Molly wasn’t getting sidetracked by the talk of a movie in the making or the search for a bathroom. “I want to know why we
ended up here in the first place.”

  Aquene spoke up. “I have already told you why you are here. You—she—will save my people.” She pointed to Molly.

  That part wasn’t very clear to Winnie. A baker saving people? “How exactly is she going to do that? And save them from what?”

  A frown crossed Aquene’s face as she shook her head. “When the time is right, we will know.”

  “Well, isn’t that just dandy,” Molly muttered.

  At the distant sound of pounding horse hooves, Winnie spun toward the window. “Someone’s coming. Obviously, this must be the party house.” The expression on Aquene’s face didn’t exactly scream frivolity. Or on Molly’s, for that matter, not that Molly could possibly have a clue who was riding into town, so to speak. Regardless of whether Molly believed Aquene’s declaration that they had gone back in time a couple hundred years, Winnie did, and they were most certainly not in Kansas anymore.

  “We must go.” Aquene sounded grave.

  “Why don’t we wait and see who’s coming? Maybe they’ll have an idea as to what’s going on here.” It was a long shot, given where they were and when they were. Whoever was trotting their way was surely a frontiersman hunting, tracking, or searching for a new place to call home. Time travel was most likely not on their agenda.

  “Darlin’, I don’t think so.” Even Angus sounded worried, which didn’t make sense either.

  “What’s going on?” Obviously, she was the only one not in the loop, because the rest of them were as jumpy as feral cats. She heard only the sound of a single horse, which meant one, possibly two, were heading their way. They couldn’t possibly be in much danger from a couple of people. There were four of them, and they had the cover of the cabin on their side.

  “We must go,” Aquene repeated, and when none of them moved, she said harshly, “Now!”

  Chapter Eight

  They could not stay here any longer. The vibrations that came through the ground and up through the floor of Hannah’s cabin brought the whisper of danger with them. It was less of a whisper and more a scream, or at least that was how it felt to Aquene. Without needing to peer out the window, she realized who rode in their direction, and she also knew he brought death with him.

  She glanced at the scorched tree outside, and the truth of her conviction gained much weight. He had burned the woman there, taking her life as though he were a god. His face too had been in her visions, a haunting specter of the evil that walked her lands. As much as the visions of Molly had filled her with hope, his visage had radiated cruelty and despair. Now as she felt his presence growing ever closer, an urgency to flee filled her. They must leave, and though she wished for the speed of the wind a good horse could provide, they must do so on foot. Tilla could not carry them all, and she would not leave a single one behind. It was not her way.

  The thought of her beautiful horse running free across the fields brought her joy rather than sorrow. Tilla would never truly leave her and would find her way back to Alumpum. The knowledge of that truth made her heart glad. Her friend would care for her horse as if she were her own. That was what sisters of the heart did for each other.

  “Let us hurry,” she said to the three who stared at her. “We must leave this place before he comes.”

  “Go where?” Molly asked as she held on to the book. “I barely knew where we were in the twenty-first century. I’m completely lost here.”

  Aquene wished she had the knowledge to understand everything her visions had shown her thus far. She did not. She knew only that they must get out of the path of the man who rode toward them as they stood here doing nothing. He brought death and violence. Her visions ran red with the blood he would spill if they could not stop him. First, they must conceal themselves from his sight. Then they would find a way to end the path of terror he brought wherever he walked, to dam the river of blood that had been his life.

  Her gaze strayed to Molly, and a whisper of power flowed over her. She was not wrong about this woman; she was special, just as promised. The journey they must take together was to begin this moment, and where it would end, she did not know. But they must start in this breath. She stretched out her hand to Molly. “Come.”

  At first, she thought Molly would resist again, but she did not. She placed her hand in Aquene’s, and the shock it sent through her was as unexpected as it was powerful. They both felt their connection, for she could see it in Molly’s eyes. She did not want to let go. Rather, she wished to hold tighter.

  “What’s out there?” Molly’s words were soft. In her eyes, Aquene could see the knowledge. As she felt his ominous presence, so too did Molly. That gave her great comfort, for they would work well together.

  “Death.” She had no choice but to speak true.

  Angus was staring out the window, his eyes narrowed. “I don’t know what or who it is, but I’m with her.” He inclined his head toward Aquene. “I have a bad feeling about whoever’s on that horse, and if my vote counts for anything, I vote we haul ass.”

  “Please.” Aquene did not like to beg. It was necessary, and so she did, for they must not stay here a moment longer. Their lives depended upon taking flight as powerful as the eagles that soared across the mighty river.

  “All right,” Molly said. “Let’s grab our packs and get out of here.”

  “Ah, Moll, we have a little problem.” Winnie was turning a full circle. “No packs.”

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” Angus muttered. “We dropped them right there.” He pointed to the spot by the door where they’d shrugged them off after coming in from the rain.

  “Screw the packs,” Molly cried. “Where’s Loba?”

  Aquene stared at them. Were these strangers soft in the head? Did they not understand the danger they were in? They had to get out of this place right now. Packs did not matter. Nor did this Loba, whoever she might be. The pounding outside grew louder and her feeling of dread deeper. “We must run, now!”

  She could not wait any longer. Pulling on Molly’s hand, she dragged her toward the door. The wind pushed it open and brought in leaves and pine needles, along with the odor of the charred tree. The scent of death filled the cabin so thickly it seemed to push out the air. With Molly holding her hand, Aquene ran out into the storm that had once again begun to rage, the wind whipping her braids around her head. Overhead, the sound of thunder filled the sky, and when lightning flashed, she let go and her vision went black.

  She always appeared wearing white with her black hair free and flowing. She was the most beautiful woman Aquene had ever seen. She was the mother.

  “You must hurry, child. He comes, and he brings darkness and death.”

  “I am trying, Mother, but I do not know what to do.”

  “Save her, my daughter. Save the book.”

  “Tell me how.”

  Her smile reminded Aquene of the sun in a blue, cloudless sky. “You will know. You will know.”

  * * *

  Once Matthew was riding in the direction of the witch’s cabin again, he felt more at ease. Purpose always did that for him. Though he was satisfied he’d done a good deed by putting Prudence down, the loose end here was like a rock in his boot that he couldn’t get rid of. It poked at him with every step, bringing red-hot pain.

  Overhead, thunder roared once again, and he pulled up on the reins. Tilting his head to the sky, Matthew stared up at it. It wasn’t right. Not that thunder and lightning were unusual here. Quite the opposite. This, however, was different. He could swear he heard the sound of a woman’s scream on the wind, though he wasn’t sure that was possible so far away from the outposts that served to make up what passed for civilization.

  Well, that and the bands of natives he encountered now and again. He found their ways repellant, and perhaps when he completed his task by destroying the last of the witches, he would carry on his mission by eliminating those who refused to acknowledge the greatness of God. But that was for another day. Now he must continue to work toward concludi
ng this mission cleanly and completely.

  A brush of fingertips across the back of his neck made him start. Goose bumps that had nothing to do with the cool rain rose on his arms. Once before he had felt just such a touch. It had been the beginning. The first one. On that day he had believed it to be a blessing from God. He believed the same now. He sat taller on his horse, the slap of rain against his cheeks unable to dampen his spirit.

  The wind kicked up, trying with all its might to pull the hat from his head and whipping the tails of his coat into a frenzy. This time he was certain screams carried through the air, and it made him smile. He stared up and let the rain pelt his face.

  “Bring your worst,” he said to the sky. “I cannot be stopped. I will not fail.”

  The storm for others might portend a bad omen. Not for Matthew. Through a break in the black clouds overhead, a ray of light shone through. He knew what that meant. Who it was meant for. As he prodded his horse into a gallop, he began to whistle a cheerful tune from his youth. He was glad to be on his way. He had no time to waste.

  Chapter Nine

  For at least a full minute, Aquene seemed to zone out as they rushed into the stormy gloom. Her eyes were blank, and she wore an expression that told Molly she was somewhere else. She was standing completely still, which was odd for the woman who’d insisted they leave right this damn minute. All the fire that had dragged them out the door was suddenly gone until Aquene’s eyes focused again. She stared at Molly, her eyes filled with a storm that echoed nature’s. “We must go. He comes for you.” There it was again, and this time the warning sent whispers of alarm through Molly.

  Aquene didn’t need to tell her again. Suddenly, she was picking up on something so disturbing and elemental that it scared her. “Let’s haul ass,” she shouted to Winnie and Angus, who had both followed them out the cabin door and into the clearing.