Walking Through Shadows

by Sheri Lewis Wohl

  She nodded. “Yes, I think it is.” Touching it brought them together. Perhaps reading it would show the way. Slowly she opened the cover, surprised that it began not as a typical grimoire but more like a journal. She trained the light on the page, making sure to keep it confined within their small shelter, and began to read.

  August 28, 1836

  Dearest granddaughter. I know not when you will come, only that you will, and this is for you. I must tell you my story so you will understand what you have to do. I left New York City many months ago, hoping to hide in the wilds of the West. So much land and so many places where I hoped to find peace. It seemed like the perfect place, and for a time it was. Alas, I fear my time here is coming to an end, for as he pursued our ancestors across Europe, he follows me in his unholy war against our family, against our kind. His darkness is a sickness that cannot be healed, and he seeks to destroy us all. He will not succeed, for I have made certain our family will survive even if I do not. He will never win.

  Forgive me for what I do from here forward. Your journey will not be easy. Your path will be filled with danger and death. My book granted you passage here, and it will also take you home. Of that you have my promise, my precious child of my blood. The key will reveal itself when the universe is ready to take you back to your time. Be brave, my granddaughter, and know that I am and always will be with you.

  Hannah

  * * *

  “Did you see that?” Winnie crouched behind the grouping of trees, her eyes glued to the man who was mounting his horse.

  “Yeah, a psycho out here in the Wild, Wild West. Who would’ve guessed?”

  “Sarcasm becomes you. You know that, right?”

  “I do what I can.”

  “I wonder what he did inside. There was so much crashing around, he had to have trashed it. You think he was looking for us?” The thought somehow made her fear level notch up a whole bunch. After seeing that guy, she had an awful feeling in the pit of her stomach. Something about him screamed bad. Here they were in the middle of nowhere, and they ran into a guy who wrapped himself tight in an inner-city, gang-banger vibe.

  “That was a motherfucker if I’ve ever seen one. He just looked like an asshole, but to answer your question,” he kissed the side of her head, “no, I’m certain he wasn’t looking for us. No way the bloke could even know we’re here.”

  Angus had a valid point. They were more interlopers than residents, and in some ways that gave them a measure of safety. No one would expect them. No one would be looking for them. She stood and glanced down at her cargo pants. On the other hand, if people did see them, they’d wonder what in the world they were. Women in this time did not traipse around the woods in pants like these. They most likely didn’t even know what cargo pants were.

  Oh, who cared right at the moment? It was getting dark, it was cold, and even though the storm had stopped for a while, it was back and starting to rain harder by the minute. No pack meant nothing to make a shelter out of, and these trees weren’t all that thick, so their shelter capacity wasn’t that great. They’d have better luck with the thick pines back home. Now those were forests.

  They weren’t home. They didn’t have their forests for cover, and so the next best thing was to get inside that cabin again, get warm, and try to figure out how to find their way back to where they started. Yeah, it had been all fun and games until the crazy showed up. What she wouldn’t give to be in the kitchen of one of her restaurants creating a beautiful dinner she could share with Angus by candlelight.

  “Come.” Angus held out his hand. “Let’s get inside before we get soaked.”

  Winnie hesitated. Was the guy gone? Like really gone? The sound of his horse’s hooves had faded away. All she could make out was the sound of their own breathing and the rain as it fell on the trees and the rocks. It was a pretty comforting sign that he’d left, and in her mind that was code for getting out of the rain.

  She ran with Angus to the cabin and sighed when they were inside. The warmth of the fire that had earlier burned in the big fireplace still lingered in the air and felt like heaven. It was hard to see much, since no light shone in from outside and only a few embers glowed in the fireplace. At the same time the storm had rolled in, night had fallen like a curtain dropping on the first act of a play. She wasn’t accustomed to this kind of darkness. No lights from a nearby city glowed in the distance. No switch inside the door turned on an overhead. No, it was deep and dark and very strange. She changed her mind. She still wanted to be in her kitchen whipping up a world-class dinner for Angus, but there’d be no candlelight. No, indeed, they would be eating by the light of a bright, overhead, electric fixture.

  Ever dependable, Angus made sure she didn’t dissolve into a puddle of panic. The headlamp he pulled from his pocket shone like a beacon in the dark room. She couldn’t help but smile. It amazed her how something so minor could mean so much. The light enabled them to survey the room, which was not as they had left it. The remains of a broken stool lay on the floor near one wall, while the table rested on its side in the center. They walked around the wreckage to the fireplace.

  Warmth still emanated from it, and she loved the feeling. Angus kneeled and began to assemble a complicated web of kindling and small logs to reignite the fire. It worked, and soon he had a blaze going that chased away the chill that had been her companion for at least the last hour. As wonderful as it was, they didn’t have enough wood inside to keep the small fire ablaze for long. That was disappointing. She’d like nothing better than a blazing fire all night to keep the shadows at bay.

  “What now?” Winnie held her hands in front of the blaze, appreciating the warmth and trying not to let the panic take hold again.

  He hugged her as if sensing her mood. “Not to worry. We’ll keep this going. I’ll find us more wood.”

  She didn’t feel her normal optimism at his plan. “It’s dark and raining. Not to mention there really isn’t much of a forest out there to even find wood.” Fear wrapped around her heart.

  “Not to worry. I’ll find enough to keep us warm.”

  She doubted it. “I’ll go with you.”

  “No,” he snapped. It was the first time she’d ever heard that tone in his voice. “I don’t want you out there. I can find it easier by myself.”

  “I don’t want you out there alone.” It wasn’t like she could do much. She just didn’t want to be alone. Didn’t want Angus out there alone. She’d silently hoped that just as they’d circled back to the cabin after their race away earlier, Molly and Aquene would have done the same thing. When they didn’t emerge from the trees, she’d been disappointed.

  A tiny smile curved up the corner of his mouth. “Aye, but I’m a tough Irishman, my love. We’ve been dealing with the creatures of the night for more centuries than you can imagine. I’ll be fine, and I’ll bring back wood for my woman. I’ll find enough to keep us cozy.”

  “I’m scared, Angus.” She hated the way her voice quivered. Being weak was new to her. She ran several successful restaurants and was the go-to woman in all of them. Handling a crisis was nothing new for her, yet the idea of being alone in this cabin without Angus terrified her.

  He put his arms around her and pulled her close. “I’ll be back before you know it, and we’ll be safe and warm here. I promise. Trust me.”

  She nodded and managed not to cry. There was no one in the world she trusted more. Besides, maybe Molly and Aquene would show up while he was gone. “Okay.”

  Angus kissed her cheek. “Soon enough, love. We’ll be sitting together by the fire very soon.”

  After he walked out the door, the fire no longer gave her any warmth. The light it provided didn’t provide her comfort. With her knees pressed to her chest and her arms wrapped around her legs, she tried and failed to ignore the darkness that crept near, like a predator closing in for the kill. The wind blew outside and the rain continued to fall. The door didn’t open. No Angus. No Molly. No Aquene. She’d never felt so alone
.

  She continued to stare at the fire, stirring it every so often with a stick and wondering if each sound she heard was Angus returning with an armload of wood. A shadow fell across her small circle of light, and her heart leapt even as she was certain she’d not heard the door open. Thank God, he was back. Breathing a huge sigh of relief, she stood and turned toward the door, smiling.

  Her smile faded. It wasn’t Molly or Aquene. It wasn’t Angus either.

  Chapter Twelve

  Aquene found the feeling of Molly’s body next to hers nice. Despite the companionship, the trouble she sensed on the wind did not lessen. They were at the beginning of what she recognized would be a dangerous journey, yet she felt comfort and almost joy.

  Though she understood that the happiness her friends enjoyed in the unions they had with their warriors was something they also wished for her, what they did not understand was that her life was happy enough. She was powerful and learned. She was respected. Most importantly, she was gifted with the visions revered by all. Her place with her people was solid without the need to join with a man. She had spent her life trying to make them understand this.

  Despite the serenity she found in her world, at times she allowed the loneliness to touch her heart. She longed for the same closeness of her friends, to believe that she too might share her life with another. Not a warrior who could give her children and work by her side as they moved across their lands. No, she wished for the touch of another…like the one who sat next to her now.

  Exactly like the one who sat next to her now.

  Perhaps it was another test, and Molly had been sent to her now to see if she had the strength of will to set aside her longing and focus on the journey. She did, and she would show her determination to the universe so that there would be no doubt. She must move her thoughts away from the sweet feel of Molly’s closeness and to the words she read from the book. She must focus on the battle ahead of them and what they would need to do to be victorious.

  “What do her words mean?” She understood the coming of people like Hannah. Slowly they appeared, traveling through the lands that had sustained her people for more generations than she could count. She would like to believe they would all pass through to other places, but she knew better. They built their outposts, their forts. They brought their English, their unsuitable clothing. They prayed to their strange God. As Hannah had lived in the cabin up from the river, so too would others come. Their world was changing day by day, year by year.

  Molly was running her fingers over the page she had just read in the same way Aquene would do as she smoothed Tilla’s mane. There was care in her touch, as though it was more than a book. “I don’t know what it all means, but it does seem clear enough that she’s the one who brought us here. We have to figure out why.”

  “She could not be the one who brought you here, for the men killed her.” Besides, Aquene felt certain something far more powerful had brought them together.

  “How do you know?” Molly’s eyes met hers.

  Sadness filled Aquene as she remembered. Through her life she had witnessed cruelty and violence, and she understood the lengths men could go to in order to destroy another. Tears pricked at the back of her eyes as she thought about the particular cruelty visited upon a woman who never harmed another.

  She and Tilla had ridden by the lonely cabin where the woman lived one sunny day, and, unlikely as it might have been, they had become friends. Many times they sat near the river and learned from each other. She had often wished that those who came could all be like Hannah. Not knowing it would be the last time she and Tilla would journey to the cabin to visit her friend, she had been filled with happiness as they had ridden into the clearing. Great shock and despair had washed over her as Aquene came upon the blackened body of her friend lying on the ground. Hannah had been left there lifeless and nearly unrecognizable. Why would someone do this to a woman who did no harm? She respected the land and the people who lived on it. Unlike so many others, she carried peace and harmony in her heart.

  Her body told another story. The rage that took her life had still lingered in the air around her, in the smell of the fire that had charred her skin, and in the insult to the tree used as a tool in her destruction. Someone had stolen her life and offended all that was good and right.

  The men, and there was no doubt in her heart the travesty was done by men, who had done that to her cared not for her passage beyond this world. They had left her body for the scavengers that would have come to ravage had Aquene not gotten there first. Their disrespect hurt Aquene’s spirit. Even now, she could walk to the spot where she had buried Hannah. It had been the only thing she had been able to do in order to restore what she could of her honor.

  She did not know how to explain to Molly the knowledge she possessed. Many did not believe in the grant of sight bestowed upon her. While her own people knew of her gifts, she shared her truth with those who came to her lands only when she was certain they could be trusted to believe. Hannah was the first one. Would Molly be the second?

  In the darkness, she smiled. Here she sat next to a woman who came from many years hence, and all she wanted to do was share her whole life with her—all that she was and all that she wished to be, including her secrets. If any was to believe her, surely this one person would do so. “I am the one who gave her what dignity I could restore after they took her life. I put her in her final resting place and said a prayer to help her as she made her way to the beyond.”

  “She was murdered.” The words Molly spoke did not appear to be for her, and so she said nothing. Instead, she simply waited until Molly said, “They knew she was a witch, and so they took her life. Bastards.”

  Before she lost her life, Hannah had warned her of the man who was like a dark shadow at her back. Aquene did not truly understand his threat until the day she found Hannah’s body. Only then did she know of the depths of his evil and his terror of those who had been blessed as Hannah had been. A bad feeling flowed through her each time she remembered, for she, of all people, should have taken heed of Hannah’s warnings. “He believed she brought harm to them, and he made others believe as he did.”

  “Why?”

  “You understand why. You do not need me to tell you.”

  Aquene’s visions had been clear about Molly’s coming to keep her people safe, even if they had not explained how it was to happen. What she had not seen but understood now was the connection between Hannah and the woman of her visions. The ties that bound them were deep, and Aquene sensed they were important. Only time would show them how, and she was willing to wait until it was time for her to know.

  “Because I am like her.”

  “Yes.”

  She could feel the resistance in Molly despite her words. Again, Aquene waited. There were times when a woman had to make peace with destiny in her own way and her own time. Better than most, Aquene understood that fact. If Molly did not yet possess that knowledge, she would soon.

  Molly switched off the small light, and it plunged them once again into complete darkness. Aquene could no longer see her face, though she could feel the way Molly’s body grew soft. She was no longer fighting against the truth. “I am,” she admitted softly. “I am like her. They call us hereditary witches because our families go back for hundreds of years. We have had magic in our souls for centuries.”

  “They hunt you. It matters not where you go in the world. Peace is never yours.” That was the truth Hannah had shared with her. Aquene had not truly understood what that meant until the night she returned Hannah’s burned body to the earth. Her people revered those with the powers of sight. Not so with those who were now invading her lands. They dreaded what they could not see or understand. How soon, she wondered, would it be before a dark rider came for her?

  “Not me so much. Not anymore anyway. My ancestors were tracked down and destroyed for many, many years. I’m surprised any of my family line survived the so-called flames of the righteous. I’m livi
ng proof that at least a few of us survived being burned at the stake.”

  “Burned?” Aquene had believed only Hannah had suffered such a fate. To hear that many had been destroyed in the same way made her sad.

  Beside her she could feel Molly nod. “Burned. Alive.”

  * * *

  Matthew tried hard not to let the rage overtake his good sense. As the hours passed he had an unsettling feeling he had taken the wrong path, and instead of getting closer to her, he was putting more and more distance between them. He should have started earlier so that he could have tracked her better during daylight. This was when he appreciated the rough men that called this wilderness home. They would have put him on the right path.

  Between the darkness and the rain, he had no choice but to stop for the night. If the disgusting man had not delayed his travels earlier, he would have arrived at the cabin much earlier, and he might very well have met her face-to-face. Instead, the one who had what he needed had quite simply had enough time to get too far ahead of him. He would not be able to close the distance this night.

  It was not right. He had killed the witch, and it should have been finished when her charred body dropped to the earth. Despite all his fine work, there were times when more was needed. This was one of those times. The good Lord had shown him the way and assured him that vengeance was still his. All he had to do was be patient. He needed time, and rest. As frustrated as he was, he must follow the path he was being shown. God did not make mistakes, though it felt like he tested Matthew daily. It was fine. He would pass each and every one.

  Sitting astride his horse, he studied the dark hills looming in the night. This weather was not the best in which to navigate in the dark. Surely the one who held his prize would also be forced to stop and camp, and that gave him an idea. He nudged his horse, and they began to climb the nearest hill, the darkness forcing them to move very slowly. He did not want to risk injury to himself or his horse. He believed the ones he pursued were on foot, and his horse gave him an advantage.