She, and all her people, had to be aware and alert at all times. Especially now with the newcomers, who brought strange customs and beliefs. Though familiar with their language and their ways, she did not truly understand them. She could be in their company, speak with them, and trade with them. She did not want to live with them, not for any length of time.
Already she had spent much of her life with these strangers. It was only when she was out here in the wild, the sky full of the light of a blanket of stars, that she felt at home. Here she took in the true power of nature and the purpose of the path she was set on. She was much more certain of the rightness of it all because she had been living with this for much time. Molly had not.
“You are more powerful than you know.” It amazed her that Molly did not know how special she was. Aquene had known it long before she had gazed into her beautiful eyes.
Molly shook her head. “I don’t think so. You believe I am because you want to. I came out of seemingly nowhere, and that appears to be the magic you’re hoping for. The reality of who and what I am is quite different. I think you’ll be very disappointed in the real me.”
In turn, Aquene shook her head. “You believe I am a simple woman because I live here in what I am sure you see as a primitive way. The savage way, as I have heard others describe it.”
“No!” The force of Molly’s single word startled Aquene. “You’re wrong. It has nothing to do with the way you live. I respect it more than you can possibly know.”
Aquene had to find a way to get through to her, to make her understand. Soon he would come, and Molly must be fearless. Courage lived in her heart, Aquene was most certain of that, but somehow she must make Molly trust her own fearlessness.
“I do not believe these things because you appeared out of the air, that I imagine magic brought you here.” She laughed lightly. “That is not all true. I do believe a little magic did bring you here, but it is the same magic I know exists in our world. Destiny and the will of the Great Spirit delivered you here.”
Molly pushed her hands through her hair. “Each person in my family holds a special power, a special talent. I’m no kid, yet I’ve never really known what I can do, what the universe has seen fit to gift me with. I know the Old Ways, I understand the craft, and even so I’ve never understood my place. I became a baker because there I feel like I belong. I always felt like an outsider in my own family, until now.”
Aquene sensed that at last Molly was beginning to believe, and her heart grew lighter. “This is your place. This is your personal power. The universe brought us together for something much greater than either one of us can know.”
Molly turned to look at Aquene, and even in the darkness she could make out her features. Their eyes were intent on one another. “As much as I hate to admit it, you might just be right.”
* * *
Dawn broke slowly, very slowly, in Matthew’s opinion. He had little doubt about the power of the magic that had impeded his progress last night. She had not just chained him to this place; she had kept away the light so that his movements were halted far longer than they should have been. The witch had thwarted him once. It would not happen again. That was a promise that would be kept.
He had managed a little sleep once the storm passed, not much, but he had never needed sleep like others. He could go for several days and still be alert and powerful, which also revealed to him the divinity of his life and his mission. If he were a mere mortal, he would have required a full night’s sleep in order to be effective. He counted his constitution as another blessing from God.
Compared to yesterday, this day had a glorious beginning. It might have taken much longer to arrive than it should have, though now that it was here, the sun was out, the sky was clear, and the air held a hint of warmth. Another sign. He would succeed in his mission today and stop the evil one as she tried to carry forth the witch’s ill intent. She should enjoy this morning because, before the sun set again, he would destroy her and any who would try to help her.
In the days long past, he had set his eyes solely on the witches themselves. How well he remembered the year he began. East Anglia had been teeming with those of evil intent in 1644. He knew it firsthand, for he had heard the disciples of the devil speak of their plans in Manningtree on that fateful spring day. It was at that moment his destiny became clear, and he did not hesitate to act. Many were grateful for his work, and they paid him handsomely for doing it well.
Years later, he had read some of the accounts of his work and understood what was suggested, though perhaps not written in so many words. Some, those ignorant of its importance, suggested that he made false accusations in the name of his own personal gain. They went so far as to send reports to Parliament with stories of how he and his team employed questionable means to extract confessions. Torture. Knives. Near drowning. They were wrong, of course, and that Parliament took no action spoke tomes. While they did not condone his work, neither did they condemn it. He did use torture, knives, and water in his work. His methods were justified then, and now. They were far from questionable. They were effective.
He was right. His detractors were wrong.
How else would one explain his long existence in the world? He had died before he attained the age of thirty. In his home in Manningtree, he had lain in his bed wasting away and coughing up blood. One of the witches had put upon him a curse; of that he was absolutely certain. His body had weakened, and far earlier than it should have, death had come to him. Temporarily, of course. After the mourners had left and the sun had set, he had risen from the ground in the graveyard of St. Mary’s and ever since walked the earth doing his important work.
He was not one of the devil’s minions, for they too often received immortality. He was from God’s army, and though he had never seen or heard of another like himself, he spoke the truth.
This witch, this elusive practitioner of the black arts, would change his life. His wait had been long, and once he stopped her, his reward would make it all worthwhile.
This morning his horse was as calm and focused as he was. Whatever the witch had done last night to spook the horse had faded away, along with the dark of the night. This morning they were free and the hunt was on. He stood on the bluff and looked out. In the distance, the massive river stretched calm and glassy. He mounted the horse and scanned the land below, hoping to glimpse her. Just as last night, he saw nothing, and again anger burned in him. That she had not built a fire to chase away the chill was a smart choice for her, a frustrating one for him. That she still managed to hide herself from view was troubling. It was not right. He should be able to see her. His hands began to twitch, and his breathing grew more rapid. His horse neighed, shaking its head and pounding the ground with his hoofs.
Closing his eyes, he silently prayed for guidance. The prayer helped, and his sense of calm returned. The twitching stopped, and his breathing evened out. The tension that moments before had made his body feel like glass flowed out of him. As he calmed, so too did his horse. Matthew tilted his head toward the sky and felt the warmth of the rising sun on his face. Yes, his heavenly Father would show him the way. He smiled and patted the length of rope attached to his saddle.
Chapter Nineteen
Molly woke up, disoriented for a few seconds. She felt stiff yet oddly at ease. Happy, as if all in her world was perfect. Had to be the lingering result of a good dream, except her eyes were open and she was staring up at a canopy of tree branches. Then she remembered where she was and figured out her ease had a lot to do with the hand she still held: Aquene’s.
Aquene hadn’t awakened yet, the gentle rise and fall of her chest rhythmic. The grimoire still lay right next to Molly, exactly where it had been when she’d finally drifted off to sleep last night. It would have been nice to have read more, but she’d decided not to tax her small light or risk it being seen by whoever, or whatever, awaited them out in the darkness. Besides risking their safety, who knew how long they’d be stuck here, and
the batteries, while the good lithium variety, wouldn’t last if she kept the light on all night. There could very well be other nights in the coming days when she might really, really want her little flashlight.
Now she had plenty of light and used her free hand to open the book to where they’d left off last night. Instead of reading aloud, she silently scanned what was now becoming the familiar script.
August 30, 1836
I have found a sanctuary in this wilderness, far from anything that rings familiar. By its very foreignness, it gives me a feeling of safety. He too has traveled his many lifetimes in the places populated by cities and people he is accustomed to. Here, it is a new world with strange people and strange customs. The comforts of the cities we each know so well do not exist here, and survival depends upon ingenuity and the charity of those few who pass by.
The people who have always called this land home are very different from any I have met before. Their customs are not of those I know, yet I do not find them strange. Quite the opposite. I find a certain amount of comfort in the different yet familiar way they speak and live and worship. Perhaps that is why we have become friends. In a sense, I understand them and they me. I do not feel all alone out here, knowing that I have allies nearby.
It does not mean I am safe. Nor are my new friends. During the long journey that brought me here, I heard much of the fear and revulsion the settlers carry with them. That brings me sadness, for those who seek out this new land do not even try to understand the people who lived here first. They want only what they know and do not try to see the beauty that is already in this glorious land.
Then again, why should I be surprised? Is it not the reason I run now? Have not our people been misunderstood for centuries? And the one who pursues me now has been on a crusade to destroy our family for generations. He has almost succeeded. The hate he carries in his heart is as deep as an ocean.
Only the two of us remain now, and soon I fear it will only be one. I hope that I have kept her safe and assured for her a life that will keep our blood flowing through the generations to come. I feel much hope that I have, or what would be the point of leaving this for you?
So heed these words, my dear granddaughter, for much is to be laid at your feet. I believe in the visions that the universe has gifted to me, and those visions show me you will come. I see your face, the eyes, the mouth, the hair that are much like my own. In your face I see a promise that he will not succeed in destroying us. For everything, there is a time and a season. Alas, it is not for me to be that time or season. For you it shall come to pass.
Look into your heart and find the magic that will fulfill the destiny that comes your way. You, Molly, are the chosen one, and through you, the gates of hell will open for him. The wisdom of our family will come to you in the moment you need it most. Seek the knowledge, accept it when it comes, and do what you must. Molly, you are my only hope. You are our family’s only hope.
Molly gasped and jerked her hand, releasing Aquene’s as the book fell from her lap. Startled, Aquene jumped to her feet, on instant alert.
“Who approaches?”
It took a second for that question to sink in. “No one,” Molly told her. At least no one that she knew of.
“Then what has happened?”
It was hard to explain what she’d just read and why it had smacked her in the face like a painful slap. Though her name appeared in the grimoire, its message surely wasn’t personally directed at her, yet it hit Molly deep in her heart. This woman from two centuries past had left this for her, and even as she tried to argue otherwise, the truth lay right there in front of her eyes. Everything Aquene had been pushing to make her understand was now as clear as if she’d just seen it on a television investigative report. And truth was a bitch.
“You’re right.” That was all she could think of to say.
“I do not understand.”
“You were right about everything. I’m supposed to be here.”
“Yes.”
Aquene made everything sound so matter-of-fact. None of it felt that way to her, except suddenly she understood why she was supposed to jump through time and that it all had happened for a reason. Winnie and Angus, well, she still wasn’t sure why they ended up down the proverbial rabbit hole with her. If this grimoire had been left for her, it made sense that she would find herself at Aquene’s side. Her two friends were most likely in the wrong place at the wrong time.
“Hannah is a relative. A great, great, or more grandmother, I believe.”
Nodding, Aquene said, “That is as it should be.”
“Maybe to you, but it’s pretty damned weird to me. I always figured I’d come into my powers someday but thought it would actually be in my century. Who time-jumps anyway? What kind of power is that? Then to find a book written two hundred years earlier and written specifically to me—well, that’s just mind-blowing. Maybe this kind of stuff happens to you all the time, but not to me.”
“As I said last night, the universe does as it sees fit. We do not decide these things on our own.”
“Yeah,” she murmured. “Ain’t it a bitch?” Of course, even if Mom or anyone else in her family had told her some great-great-grandmother would write to her so that when she time-jumped she’d have a guide, she’d have never believed them. Her mind was far more open than most, but that would have been a bit much even for her.
Aquene looked at her oddly, and she realized the saying so common in her century made no sense whatsoever to this woman in this time and place. It was amazing they were able to communicate at all, given how many times Molly said something she couldn’t relate to. “It’s another saying from my time,” she explained.
“It is strange. You have many odd sayings from your time, do you not?”
“I suppose we do.” She laughed and then turned serious “You were right about some guy coming for us. He’s a killer.”
Nodding, Aquene stood. “It is true, and we must not stay here longer. We must find a way to stop him. Now that daylight is upon us, it is important that we go in search of him.”
How she wished for the tools of her century, especially a cell phone—a working one, anyway. A GPS wouldn’t be unwelcome either. Oh, and a Starbucks would be awesome. She’d give her left arm for a venti latte right about now.
Not likely to see any of those things in the near future, so, like Aquene, she stood. Unlike Aquene, she put her arms over her head and stretched. Wow, it was amazing how stiff she was after sleeping sitting up against a rock on hard ground. Not quite like a night on her queen-sized memory-foam mattress. Didn’t seem to bother her companion at all. Go figure.
“What do you suggest?” Frankly, she didn’t have a clue where to go from here, beyond trying to track down Winnie and Angus. She was afraid they’d gotten lost in the trees and rocks or, God forbid, slipped into the water. Out there it all looked alike to her, and it would be a simple matter to get turned around. Get too close to the river and how easy would it be for the bank to collapse? They would be swept away before they had a chance to do anything. The most she could hope for was that they’d circled back to the cabin. Angus was a smart guy and might just figure their best bet for reconciliation was to return to the only familiar place they had. Not to mention he had a far better sense of direction than Molly and Winnie put together.
“We must eat and drink before we journey forward.”
Aquene tossed out a lot of must-dos, and while that all sounded good, what exactly were they going to eat and drink? Molly didn’t even have a protein bar in her coat pocket. All her snacks, along with her trusty water bottle, were in her pack, wherever it had ended up. “I don’t have anything to eat or drink.” Now that she thought about it, she was actually pretty hungry and would love a bottle of water. Like the latte, a cold bottle of water was another dream guaranteed not to come true.
“Come.” Aquene held out one hand to her. In the other was her bag tied with the leather cord. All of a sudden, Molly was really intere
sted in that bag. What exactly did Aquene carry in it? Bacon? A granola bar? Wait. They probably hadn’t even heard of a granola bar yet. Okay. Bacon would work.
She didn’t ask. Instead, she followed her from their overnight shelter. It wasn’t far to the river, where they used their hands to scoop out cold water. In her day, she’d never in a million years consider drinking straight from the river, despite how beautiful the water always appeared. She figured a couple of centuries without pollution meant she had a good shot at getting untainted water, so why not give it a try? When in Rome and all that. It was cold and clear and wonderful. She still might pay later for drinking it, but given how parched she’d been, she was willing to risk it. She rocked back on her heels and tipped her head to the sky. There was a lot to be said about warm sunshine and a drink of cool water.
Behind her, Aquene sat on a rock and opened her bag. She left the riverbank and sat on the rock next to Aquene. Out of her pouch she pulled dried meat and handed Molly a piece. She wasn’t exactly sure what she was looking at, not that it mattered. She was hungry enough not to care. After taking a bite, she smiled. “Salmon.” She was relieved to discover it wasn’t something like dried rattlesnake. Even as hungry as she was, Molly wasn’t sure she’d get that past her lips.
Aquene smiled back. The sunshine made her face bright and her black hair shine. A natural beauty that made Molly’s pulse quicken. “Yes.” As quick as her smile crossed her face, it disappeared. Molly watched in confusion as her face paled and her eyes rolled back in her head. When she realized what was happening, she got to Aquene with just enough time to keep her from hitting her head on another rock as she tumbled backward toward the ground.
* * *
Walking Through Shadows Page 14
