Shadow Weaver Series, Book 1

by MarcyKate Connolly

  Only Dar understands me.

  She squeezes my ankle like she knows my thoughts. You’re not crazy, and you’re not an embarrassment; you’re a gift. Someday we’ll prove it to them.

  I take a deep breath. “I will do my best, Mother. I promise.”

  Chapter Three

  The shadows seem thinner than usual today. Perhaps they’ve grown shy and shrink from the company slated to arrive this afternoon. Our last visitors came a couple years ago when we thought it would be fun to checkerboard the floor in the guest wing with shadows.

  Their unpleasant daughter, however, had not agreed.

  She hadn’t wanted to play any games with me and turned up her nose at my shadow animals. When I tried to tell her about Dar, she laughed and told me I was too old for imaginary friends. Later that night she tripped down a flight of stairs that was obscured by the checkerboard shadows and broke her arm. The next morning, her family packed their things and left. I had only intended to make the guest wing fancier, not hurt her, but Mother and Father were furious.

  Hopefully these new visitors will be nicer. I must do my best to obey Mother and not mention shadows at all. And if the guests are unpleasant, then I will spend as much time in my rooms as possible. Who needs them when I have Dar and the lovely darkness at my fingertips?

  It’s been ages since we’ve had anyone new to eavesdrop on, Dar purrs in my ear as we head down the hall toward the kitchens. I’ve grown bored of listening to your parents and the servants. When these newcomers arrive, we should listen in on them to get a sense for what they’re like.

  I smile. “I like the sound of that.” Dar knows eavesdropping has long been my favorite game. When I listen to others talking, I can pretend I’m there in the open laughing with them—not hidden nearby in the shadows.

  When we turn the corner to the main hallway, I pause in my tracks. Before me stands a strange little girl with ghostly hair floating around her face like a living thing. She tilts her head and furrows her brow at me. The fading yellow dress she wears is dirty around the edges of the hem and sleeves. Her eyes are something else—wide and staring, like she is taking everything in but not always registering what she sees.

  Dar curls over my shoulder. She’s an odd thing.

  “Do you think she’s lost?” I whisper back. “Have the guests arrived already?”

  The girl breaks into a grin and claps her hands. “I know you,” she says in a singsong voice. “You shimmer and shine no more.” Then she stops and stares again. It feels like a cold hand grazes over my mind. Like the girl sees right through me. I shiver and call my shadows closer. Soon the safety of darkness surrounds me, and I can no longer feel the little girl’s eyes. She doesn’t react to my disappearing act at all. But as Dar and I slide down the hallway out of sight, the little girl still sings behind us: “I know you, I know you.”

  I can’t get away from her fast enough.

  • • •

  When we reach the kitchens, we discover that I was right: the guests have arrived early, which means no time for us to have a little fun in the mansion first. Dar is disappointed, but I am not. It is a cloudy day, perfect for wayward shadows in the woods on the grounds of our home. I sneak an apple tart from the cook, who only gives me a passing glance, and then leave the house behind. Once, after the incident, Mama and Papa forbade me from wandering alone in the woods, but they gave up on that long ago. The shadows call to me; I can’t help myself.

  I break into a run, Dar whipping behind me like a dark cloak, and head into the forest, leaving all thought of my parents’ disapproving glares behind. The trees never judge me. I only stop when I’m far enough away that no one can see me anymore if they glance out the windows. I laugh, and throw my hands toward the sky. The air tastes like rain, and the wind slips through the branches, making the trees dance. It’s the perfect day.

  The shadows shimmy out from their places between the trees at my call, and I begin to shape them with my magic. They form a square that slowly distorts into an elongated diamond. Then I fashion a tail to the end of it. I craft the shadow string, holding it down as we head for the field at the edges of my parents’ lands. The wind tosses my shadow kite into the air, and Dar and I take turns chasing each other up and down the hill.

  We settle into our favorite spot at the top of a hill, the dark forest at our backs and the field stretching out for miles in front of us, and lie down to watch the storm clouds darken over our heads. At my command, the shadows at the bottom of the clouds make funny faces and form odd shapes. But I don’t laugh as I usually do on days like this. One of the clouds curls into wisps, reminding me of the little ghostly girl’s hair. She haunts my thoughts.

  Don’t worry, Dar says. She is nothing.

  “That’s what bothers me,” I say. “She seemed so…empty. So…off.” It unsettled me more than I want to admit. But I trust Dar. She can read people in ways I’ve never been able to. She’s my best friend.

  The clouds churn over our heads, and drops of water begin to pelt my face. I groan. “I suppose we must go. Mother and Father will be furious if they find me sneaking into the house soaked when we have guests. Especially ones as important as these.”

  They don’t know what they’re missing, Dar says as she shimmies between the raindrops.

  I smile and release the shadows that formed my kite back into the woods. They whisper around me for a moment, like friends only parting for a brief while, and then they’re gone. Dar and I return to the house, the rain clouds chasing after us. But when we near the house, a flash of white catches my eye, and I pause. That strange little girl is just standing there, in the middle of the back garden, with the rain pelting down on her. She doesn’t move, but she stares straight at me. From where she stands, she has a full view of the woods.

  Was she…was she watching us? Did she see us go into the woods and just waited for us? But why?

  I shiver when I realize her mouth is moving, forming the same words over and over. I don’t have to hear her to know she is still repeating the same refrain: I know you, I know you.

  I turn away and hasten past the garden, hoping she doesn’t follow us. As soon as we reach the inside, we race up to my rooms.

  • • •

  I had every intention of heeding my mother’s warning, but there is still another hour until dinner, and I can’t help wondering about these strange visitors. Are they all like that girl? Odd and unsettling? All I know is that they are people my parents want to impress.

  Cloaked in darkness so no one can see us, we leave my chambers and head for the guest wing.

  Maybe they did something to make her that way, Dar suggests, and a chill runs through me. I hope that isn’t the case.

  Of course, now I must know. We haven’t encountered her again since we came inside. The rain still pelts the exterior of the mansion, filling the house with echoes. It makes excellent cover for sneaking where I’m not supposed to be.

  Playing tricks may be Dar’s favorite game, but mine is eavesdropping. I’ve become very good at it over the years.

  The door to the guest quarters is ajar. Dar and I and all the shadows I can muster wedge ourselves into a corner across the way so we have a good vantage point but can remain hidden. I’m certain my parents have not told them what I can do, not after Mother warned me to behave. No, they are hoping they don’t find out.

  Dar whispers in my ear. Your parents would want to know if their guests had done something to hurt that girl. We’ll find out what kind of people they are.

  With renewed determination, I settle into the corner and wait. Mother’s finest paintings deck the halls of the guest wing. I prefer the old tapestries near my rooms. They have more story, less show. They also provide better places for playing hide-and-seek. But here, we have a direct line of sight into the living area where a few brocade-upholstered chairs surround a low table with clawed wooden feet. It i
sn’t long before two strangers come out from a back room. The older man is tall with yellow hair and a close-cropped beard. Both men have a deeply tanned complexion, and the younger one has eyes so blue I can see them from here. But they sit with their backs to us, making it hard to hear what they say. All that reach us are low murmurs and occasional laughter.

  We should get closer, Dar says.

  “It’s risky…” I murmur.

  It’s worth it.

  It’s cloudy enough outside that the meager light slipping in from the windows leaves room for deep shadows in every corner. Just the right size for me to squeeze into and mold the shadows around me. Mother and Father will never know. We tiptoe through the partially open door, only a moment before one of the men comments on how drafty it is in the house and gets up to close it. In my corner, I hold my breath, my heart pounding against my ribs. I can’t get locked in here. I’ll have to wait until they leave for dinner before I can make my escape.

  “That’s better,” the younger man says as he returns to his chair. He appears to treat the other man with deference. The latter must be the lord my parents wish to please. His face is stuck in a permanent sneer, which makes it seem like he is not at all impressed with his accommodations. Poor Mother. She prides herself on the lush sitting rooms in our house, but it seems all the silk and brocade in the world would not satisfy this man.

  “What do you think, Uncle Tate? Are Lady Aisling’s instincts correct?” the younger man asks.

  Tate sighs and swirls a dark liquid in the glass in front of him, but he does not drink from it. “That remains to be seen. If Simone is doing her part, we should know by morning.”

  “Is that where she’s wandered off to?”

  “She is well-trained.” He sniffs the liquid in his glass, then wrinkles his nose.

  “I don’t know how you and Lady Aisling do it, but your little collection has the most well-behaved servants I’ve ever seen. Also the strangest.”

  Tate barks a laugh and sets the glass down on the table. “Well, Alden, that is a price we are willing to pay. And really, the credit is due to Lady Aisling’s fine work. I am only her servant and messenger.”

  Their conversation troubles me, but I can’t put my finger on why. The odd girl I ran into is a servant; so what?

  “Not to mention her second in command and her best hunter. She gives you the leads, and you follow them. If Lady Aisling is right, Simone will sniff out another specimen here.”

  The hair on the back of my neck stands on end. Dar begins to balloon with agitation, but calms at my touch. I don’t quite understand the meaning of the conversation, but I don’t like it one bit.

  A search of their quarters is definitely in order once they leave, Dar says.

  The idea is very tempting. Father will be angry if I’m late for dinner, but I must get to the bottom of this. The more I hear, the more I am convinced that Dar is right and that they did something to that girl. She is nothing like them. Something is wrong here.

  Before I can wonder where the little girl is, the door opens, and she wanders in, her hair and dress still wet. I stiffen, hoping the shadows and Dar combined will be enough to keep me concealed. It almost seemed like she could see through them earlier, but no one ever has before. She meanders aimlessly around the room, even after the younger man—Alden—tries to greet her.

  “Simone,” Tate says sharply. Her head snaps up, and her blank stare rests on him. “What did you find out?”

  A slow grin creeps over her face.

  “They’re here,” she says.

  My body freezes. She can’t mean me. She hasn’t even looked in my direction since she entered the room.

  Don’t worry; she’s crazy, Dar says. I relax slightly, but my stomach is still a mess of knots.

  The man frowns. “Where?”

  Simone sticks out her hand and points directly at me. Tate and his friend follow with their eyes.

  I can’t move. I can’t even blink. My insides clench.

  The little girl fixes her unsettling gaze on my corner, looking me straight in the eye like my shadows make no difference.

  “I know you,” she says.

  Before any of them can reach me, I muster up all the strength I have and throw every shadow in the room at the two men and the girl all at once. They fly toward them, some in ferocious forms, others like giant shards of shattering glass, all meant to distract.

  Run, Dar says. I do.

  Chapter Four

  I only make it ten feet out the door before I run right into Father and Mother.

  “Emmeline!” Mother says. “What on earth are you doing?”

  I glance behind to see the two men and the little girl in the doorway, mouths agape. Though the older man now wears a wolfish expression that I don’t like at all.

  My stomach turns. I’ve been caught.

  “This is your daughter?” Tate asks.

  Father glares at me. “What did she do?”

  “Nothing, I—”

  “I wasn’t talking to you, Emmeline,” Father says.

  My chin trembles, but I snap my mouth shut and huddle against the wall. I’ve disappointed them again. Dar creeps up behind me and encircles me in her arms. Don’t worry, she whispers. They’ll forgive you.

  Will they? Mother and Father have gradually grown less and less tolerant of my magic. Somewhere along the line, I became an embarrassment and, I suspect, in their eyes, dangerous.

  Tate steps forward. “Your daughter has quite the unusual talent.” His eyes sparkle. “Though I’m sure it could be put to better use than eavesdropping on guests.”

  I stare at my feet. My entire body feels like it has been set on fire by the five pairs of eyes gazing at me.

  “Emmeline,” Mother says, her tone telling me exactly how she feels about my behavior.

  I scuff my slippers on the cold stone floor. “Sorry,” I mumble.

  Father won’t even look at me. “Go to your room. You will not be joining us for dinner after all.”

  I can’t leave fast enough. But as I do, Tate’s words echo after me: “My dear Curt and Melina, I have a proposition for you…”

  • • •

  We wait until dinner is long over and the newcomers have retreated to their quarters. Then Dar and I sneak out of my room. Mother and Father are already angry with me, but I must know what Tate meant about a proposition.

  It sounded like he was referring to me. After what he said about hunting earlier, that makes me particularly nervous.

  I will be in terrible trouble if they catch me eavesdropping again so soon after last time, but with that little girl nowhere in sight, I should be safe. It only takes a few minutes, and a duck or two into a corner to hide from a servant to reach their wing.

  I hover outside my parents’ bedroom. Soon the sound of their hushed voices warms my ears, the air crackling with their nerves.

  Let’s see what they’re about, Dar suggests in her soft, lilting voice. Her dark form stretches and winds around me. Now I can get close to Mother and Father and they’ll be none the wiser.

  The shadows deepen by their door, and I flatten myself against the wall to hear better. Dar puffs out. She always gets curious when she suspects they’re talking about her. Or rather, about me talking to her.

  “We can’t just do nothing, Melina. She’s growing stronger. We won’t be able to control her soon,” Father says.

  My mother sighs. “We could keep trying. If we can convince her to let go of the idea she can talk to the dark—”

  “You know we can’t. We’ve tried for years. And what worries me, and our gossiping servants more, is that she may be telling the truth. Who knows what kind of creatures might flock to someone with power like hers? We’re not equipped to manage that.”

  The edges of Dar’s form bristle. I reach out a comforting hand to smoot
h them over.

  “But must we send her away? What if they’re not equipped to handle her either?” Mother’s voice cracks on the word away, and with it my heart.

  Send me away? She must mean with Lord Tate. I shudder, remembering the expression on his face after he discovered my talent.

  Dar fumes, and her form takes on a red tinge.

  I hear my father pacing for a few more moments, each step matching the hammering in my chest. “What else can we do? The servants are terrified of her. Tate is the first person to see what she can do and not fear her. Instead, he is offering us a solution.”

  The more I hear, the more my stomach roils with revulsion. I peek around the doorway to see my mother sitting on the edge of their bed and my father kneeling in front of her. His hands grip hers so tightly that his knuckles are bone white. Dar tightens around me, her version of a hug. It’s the only comfort I can find.

  “Melina, we must do this. Tate will cure her. He swears it. He presented the child he has with him as proof. Didn’t you see how well-behaved she was over dinner? She followed every order without hesitation and remained quiet as a mouse. Not a hint of a talent in her anymore. Lady Aisling has truly devised a means of stamping the magic out. Lord Tate has found several children for the lady to help on his tour of Parilla. What kind of life are we condemning Emmeline to if we don’t give her every chance to be normal? This is a chance for all of us to be free of this curse.”

  Tate’s employer Lady Aisling cured that girl of magic? I shudder. That must be what’s wrong with her, why she acts so strangely. I can’t imagine being stripped of what makes me, me.

  I can bear no more. Not bothering to cloak myself with shadows, I run down the hall, Dar clinging as close as she can.

  I close my bedroom door behind me and sink onto the window seat. When I pull the gauzy curtains aside, the stars wink hello. The night is a comfort. All the darkness and shadows crawling over our yard and woods belong to me. They’re mine to bend and play with. My parents would take all that away.