Paranormally Yours: A Boxed Set

by Alisha Basso

  It was to kill.

  Me.

  The knowledge was there for me to feel, to understand and to accept. There was no alternative, no succor, no escape.

  He was so close. I could see the elaborate threadwork along the edge of his cowl. His knife hand rose while time slowed. The blade sparkled in the morning light, raced down the metal like sun-warmed fire. My death in poetry.

  “Lily!”

  It was Nock’s voice, filled with fear and panic, and with something else, a new quality, infused with power.

  The knife still raced toward my chest while I watched Nock’s small hands work so fast I could barely see what he was doing.

  Suddenly a burning chain of Celtic knots appeared in his hand. He threw it at my attacker, and the cowled man let out a high-pitched, keening wail when the glowing chain encircled the wrist of his knife hand. Nock jerked the chain like a whip and the man made a gesture with his free hand. A sound like a locomotive concussed in waves from his hand and blew Nock back so hard he hit the wall and slid down, unmoving. The brilliant string vanished, and the figure turned to me again, while in the black depths of his cowl his eyes glowed red. In them, I could see my death.

  Transfixed with terror, despair consumed my living will.

  Move! I thought in a frantic mind-scream once again.

  “I can’t,” I whispered, my lips stiff.

  I felt a sudden, puzzling energy. It deepened and coalesced right under my breastbone and spread out like the petals of a flower opening. I gasped as the knife plummeted towards me, and I threw up my forearm to take the brunt of the impact. The knife’s tip scored my flesh and and ran along my arm like liquid fire. I stumbled back, my blood flowing freely, the sight of it making my stomach lurch.

  The strange energy continued to build within me, and when the cowled man thrust forward again, I was unable to stop myself from tapping into the Torrent. I knew doing it would kill me as surely as that knife thrust headed for my abdomen, but I couldn’t stop myself. It was as if I stood outside my body, only an observer.

  The power of the Torrent rushed through me, and I cried out, stretched beyond my skills with the fullness of containing something so huge and dangerous. Blue fire exploded out of my fingertips and struck the cowled man just as the knife sliced through my shirt and pricked the skin of my stomach. My living tattoo went from blue to black, and it resembled a storm tossed sea, roiling up and down my uninjured arm. Blood dripped from my outstretched arm as a stream of energy hit the apparition square in the chest and slammed his image back into the refrigerator.

  The power left me in a rush, the excess draining back into the Torrent, leaving me feeling like a deflated balloon. My head swam, images a confusing, kaleidoscope swirl. The sun streaming in from the window seemed to go distant and my heart jumped and raced.

  I collapsed, the sting from the cut on my forearm intensifying, my stomach twisting from emptiness and shock. I felt fragile and insubstantial.

  When I looked at Nock, he was leaning over me. Was I on the floor? When had I fallen? I could feel the wetness of my blood against the hand covering the gash. Even in my state, I realized I was bleeding way too fast.

  I was surprised I was alive.

  “Oh, for the love of Tweek,” he moaned, looking stricken and still in shock, probably from what I had just done. “I’ve got to get you to someone who can help.”

  I closed my eyes to try to gather my rapidly splintering thoughts. It must be bad if Nock was taking his god Tweek’s name in vain. I was bleeding to death. Something about the blade was making me bleed faster, and weakness stole over me. When I opened my eyes there was a...a…pierced and tattooed teenager dressed in very cool rock star clothes, as if he was just about to appear onstage as a member of a boy band. For a disoriented moment I just stared at him, seeing black curls cascading to frame a set of ancient eyes which just didn’t fit with the whole teenager vibe. Then it hit me like a ton of bricks. I knew that mischievous green.

  “Nock? Is that you?”

  “Yes, it’s me. Now, shut up. Save your strength.”

  He picked me up in strong arms, rising to his full height. “I don’t understand,” I said. How—...”

  “Lily, be quiet. I need to concentrate.”

  We were descending, straight down until we hit dirt, then bedrock, then we traveled forward and fast. So fast it made my head spin.

  My life was dwindling out of me, although I was still amazed I hadn’t died when I channeled so much of the current through me. I should already be dead.

  “You’re too cute for words.”

  “It’s an illusion. Not real.”

  “I looooove the rock star aura,” I said, trying to sound like a giddy groupie.

  Before I passed out, I thought I heard him mutter, “I liked it when you were boring, Lily. Why did you have to go and get so interesting?”

  For a few moments or a few lifetimes, I floated, and then I was panting, my hair dripping with sweat, my chest heaving and nearly bursting with trapped pain. I looked up through my disheveled hair. There was a pool of water which glistened, placid and calm, an uncanny blue. Above me the night sky swirled with clouds like a roiling black pit.

  A body lay close to me, burned beyond any recognition that it had once lived and breathed. A fragile, gnarled hand reached out in supplication, but I had failed. I heard haunting laughter, and it only made the pain intensify. I reached out for the memories which should be there, but was met with only a void, empty, mocking, and incomprehensible.

  I wept. Big, wracking sobs which stole my breath and contorted my face. But there was no help and no aid. I was alone.

  A voice whispered out of the gloom. A door has been opened which can never be closed.

  There was a presence…someone nearby, someone soothing, but I couldn’t remember and it all swirled away.

  By that pool, I’d lost something, a lot of something, but there were no answers, only the emptiness.

  “I think she’s waking up,” a raspy voice said.

  “Lily?” Nock’s voice was close, full of concern and hope.

  I opened my eyes and discovered I was in what looked like a cave, but wasn’t exactly a cave. The walls had the texture of fine-grained bamboo flooring, but the ceiling was rounded and clearly made of a dark obsidian-like stone, the tan of the walls graduating into grey, then black, so they blended seamlessly. I lay on mats before a huge fireplace which took up a good portion of the wall. I could smell recent cooking in the air, saw utensils and pots…and felt comforted.

  I caught my breath when I looked more closely at the fireplace. Into the black stone was etched the form of a beautiful, lily-like flower. The skill required to shape the plant was clearly the work of a master. The subtle shades of silver and black shadowing the carving made it seem three-dimensional and almost alive.

  Someone bent over me and I focused on the face of a wizened female gnome, her eyes crinkled from laughter and her wide mouth smiling. “Ah, there she is. Hello, Lily. I’m Tilda Whisk, Nock’s aunt, but everyone calls me Tilly.”

  I blinked and, unable to help myself, I smiled back. “Hello, Nock’s Aunt Tilly.”

  “You had quite a nasty gash, and there were some dark forces at work there. The blade must have been infused with a kind of magic accelerated blood thinner and made you bleed much faster than normal, because the wound itself wasn’t very deep or serious. But without my aid, it would have killed you.”

  “Then I thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

  “I stitched it up with magical thread, very strong and durable. The stitches will dissolve after a time, and you shouldn’t have a scar. What exactly were you trying to do when you were attacked?”

  I glanced at Nock, and his eyes were just as quizzical as his aunt’s. “I was using a mirror spell.”

  “A mirror spell? Like the one you used to find your earrings?” he asked.

  “Yes, exactly. I figured it would mirror what happened to Olivia, and I could get so
me concrete information about who did it.”

  Aunt Tilly’s eyes saddened. “I’m sorry about the loss of your friend, but you should have left the investigations up to the OS.” Her tone was kind, but I heard her reprimand.

  “I know, but there wasn’t any time. If I hadn’t cast the spell then, the images would have degraded completely and been useless or invisible. I had no idea I could be attacked by an image.”

  The old gnome slipped a hand beneath my shoulder blades when I struggled to rise, careful not to put pressure on my injured arm. She was surprisingly strong for one so small and old.

  “Ever since the Break, you should err on the side of caution, sweetie.” She walked away, and when she returned, she settled a plate on my lap. “Eat this, dear. It will give you strength.”

  I broke off a piece of the moist chocolate-colored bread and put it in my mouth. I was so hungry, as well as weak from blood loss. The minute the morsel touched my tongue, an infusion of energy put a smile on my face. The bread tasted of both cinnamon and chocolate, but it was different, richer and more pronounced. The flavors mixed on my tongue, and after I swallowed a sensation of well-being flooded me. It dissolved the remnants of the terror and anxiety and left nothing but serenity in its place.

  “What is this?”

  “It’s jackbread. My aunt’s own recipe.”

  “Jackbread?”

  “It’s what Nock called it when he was a wee boy. He said it always made him feel like doing jumping jacks. It’s a bread gnomes eat to regain energy, like the energy bar humans eat after they exercise, but I will have to say my bread tastes much better.”

  “Like chocolate and cinnamon, but not exactly.”

  “Actually, neither of those ingredients are added to the bread. The main component is a root found in the deepest parts of the earth.”

  “What is the name of the root?”

  “It’s from the kalispell flower, and the root is what gives the bread its flavor and properties. I add a little happiness to it, so whoever eats the bread not only gets more energy, but also a sense of tranquility. It’s my special gift.”

  “I would love to have this recipe, Aunt Tilly. As I’m sure Nock has mentioned, I’m part owner in a catering service.”

  Her forehead wrinkled and she glanced at Nock. “You would sell the bread?”

  “I would serve it and, if there was enough interest, yes, I would sell it. It’s always been our mission, Olivia’s and mine, to provide delicious food to the masses. If it would make you uncomfortable in any way, I withdraw my request.”

  “No, not at all.” The little gnome’s face brightened and her eyes shone. “It gives me great joy to think others could benefit from my bread. I’ll go write down the recipe for you.” The little female disappeared through a doorway to, I could only assume, was the kitchen. When she was gone, Nock studied me. He actually looked a bit afraid of me, and it caused me some dismay. So much had changed.

  “How did you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Channel so much from the dragon currents?” He looked at my hands. “I’ve never seen a witch do it or heard it was even possible. There was no circle and no familiar. How did you do it?”

  “I don’t know,” I said honestly.

  “You know you should be dead.”

  “Thanks so much for pointing that out,” I said dryly.

  “I think we should keep this quiet. If anyone knew what you did…well, they would want to dissect you. Not a pleasant prospect.”

  “No. It wouldn’t be, and thank you for saving my life.”

  He waved his hand. “I only distracted him. Couldn’t really stop him. My magic is strongest in domestic tasks and we both know it.”

  “It was enough, Nock.”

  Their conversation had to end when Nock’s Aunt Tilly came back from the kitchen with another loaf of the fragrant and energizing bread and a piece of white paper. She placed the bread and the paper in my hands.

  “Enjoy, my dear, and please come and visit me as often as you like. Nock talks about you all the time.” When I looked at him, he shook his head and used his index finger to pantomime a circle indicating his aunt was crazy. I grinned as his aunt kept talking, unable to see him goofing around behind her. “I have many other dishes you might want to try, and perhaps use. I have so little opportunity to interact with another chef. It would be wonderful. I’ll make us some willow bark tea and we’ll dish.”

  I nodded with a smile.

  “Nock, you take great care in taking her home, and, Lily…stay away from mirror spells and knives.”

  “I’ll try,” I said as Nock studied me.

  “Can you stand and walk?” he asked. “If so, just take my hand. If not, I can change again and carry you.”

  My blood zinged through me, so I stood up. No dizziness, a little weakness, but that was it. “No it won’t be necessary. I can walk. I feel great.”

  He reached out his hand, watching me closely. “Jackbread does that to you.”

  I slipped my right hand into Nock’s, and, almost before I knew it, we’d traversed the deep earth and returned to my apartment. Olivia’s body was in the same place, and the sight of her still caused a terrible, wrenching pain.

  Nock rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes all sad again when he gazed at Olivia’s body. I remembered her face in the fridge and my heart twisted. My need for information was now much stronger, and if I had to deal with scary mage assassins and the OS to get answers, I would. I had to find out why she’d done this to me. I couldn’t rest until I did.

  “It’s time to call the OS,” Nock said. “I’ll disappear until they’re gone.”

  “What about the dust analysis?” I asked, my voice thick.

  He shot me a sidelong glance and said with that sarcastic lilt to his voice, “My uncle is still working on it. He’s not a wizard, you know.”

  I nodded. Setting the bread and the recipe on the counter, I pulled out my cell phone and punched in the emergency number for the OS.

  The powder we had found around her body couldn’t have been anything but the dust we used in our cream puffs. The purely legal kind. Even touching pure fairy dust…well, the ramifications were mind-boggling.

  For starters, pure dust was heavily regulated and its use highly restricted by the Fairy Dust Administration. Second, it was dangerous to deal in it. Pure dust in its natural form was more dangerous than cocaine or heroin, as well as highly addictive. It turned the user into a dusthollow—a lethally dangerous and elusive monster which hunted only one prey—the immortal fae. Most of the races rarely challenged the fae. It’s what made them such good watchdogs and protectors of the single commodity which generated cheap power, flavored our food, enhanced beauty in cosmetics, and fueled the ink in our living tattoos. It was a versatile and universal product.

  The fae were very hard to kill, but dusthollows were able to kill them effortlessly. It was how pure dust was produced, because the death of a fae turned their magic into powder and that’s what drove the dusthollow to kill. Only diluted dust was legal. The transformation into a dusthollow could happen to any race, even vamps. The thought scared the crap out of me.

  I refused to believe my rescuer, my friend, my business partner, was living two very different lives. I would have known if she had been a user. Our dust had been used strictly for the cream puffs. From what I saw during the mirror spell, she was merely getting a new supplier. It didn’t mean she was buying pure dust.

  I was bound and determined to discover the truth, no matter where it took me, no matter who was involved.

  Not even if it killed me in the process.

  It just might, I thought gloomily. It just might.

  Fifteen minutes later, I stood in the living room while several OS crime scene techs moved in and out of our kitchen. I felt numb, a great weight of loss settling over me in two distinct ways. Olivia was dead, and the comfort and support she had lavished on me over the past three years was gone forever. But more imp
ortant, her betrayal was even harder for me to understand and accept. She’d violated my trust in the most basic way and destroyed my faith in her. But, then I remembered she’d asked for my forgiveness. I was more confused now than ever.

  My stomach twisted with profound, wrenching agony, and I stood mutely and watched as her body was enshrouded in a black bag and levitated past me.

  “Ms. Starbuck. I have a few questions for you, if you feel up to it.”

  Warden Somerset stood resolutely in front of me. He was probably in his mid to upper fifties, and had a face which had seen some hard living. His eyes were intelligent and assessing, full of the typical cop assumption that everyone was a suspect until proven innocent. My guess was the man had impeccable standards.

  “Of course,” I said and I sat on the couch, gesturing for him to have a seat across from me. I was exhausted, since I’d been up now twenty-four-plus hours, had experienced the shock of Olivia’s betrayal, then discovered her body in a pool of blood…and the cowled man’s attack. I shuddered.

  “When was the last time you saw Olivia?”

  “Yesterday morning, early. I had to be at a job by five o’clock to prepare for a catered party for our supplier, Chris Bailey.”

  “How did she seem? Nervous, calm, preoccupied?”

  “She was as serene as she always was, as though she had this special, secret knowledge. She brought me coffee and we laughed about Chris being cranky during a full moon.”

  “Did anything out of the ordinary happen?”

  “Yes. When I asked Chris for the payment for the job, he told me Olivia had agreed to do the party for free.”

  “She didn’t mention anything about it to you?”

  I explained everything to the warden about how Olivia had emptied our bank accounts. “The only paid-up bill is the loan on my brand new T-Bird and only because I paid it before Olivia cleaned out the accounts.”

  Cynically I noted I was in the same shape when my relationship with Olivia ended as I’d been when it began. Flat broke.

  “How long had you known her?”

  I summarized my short three-year life story for him.

  “Is there anyone you can think of who would want to hurt your friend?”