by KB Anne
Go, he shouted again, but she couldn’t. She felt immobilized, just like the night before, except now it wasn’t Gallean casting his energy upon her, it was the brother. It was not a magical energy, though. Something about him gave her pause. Even now as he approached what he believed to be an uninvited guest, his green eyes sparkled with mischief.
Gallean yelled at the brother again. He glanced over his shoulder at the wizard. It was enough to break his spell over Caer, and she fled.
Do not return, Gallean warned her.
Tears welled at the corners of her eyes. After spending less than a day with the brother and sister, the wizard no longer wanted her near. He’d discarded her like yesterday’s pheasant carcass.
As she ran from the keep, she loathed the thought of spending the rest of her life alone. The village was just a short distance from Gallean’s. She’d go there and find someone who did want her.
* * *
Standing on the hill, she watched the smoke spiral from some of the huts in the village. Her heart pounded as she wondered what it must be like to stroll freely through the streets. She had walked through them many times before, but always under the cloak of darkness and her invisibility. Today she planned to shed her gift and interact with people. They’d see her for what she was—a young woman in need of companionship. Balor’s spies, if there were any, would never suspect she was the trophy their master sought.
She took a deep breath and shed the invisibility around her. Before she could change her mind, she quickly climbed down the slope and entered the closest pub, one with a howling wolf engraved on a sign above the door. A few patrons glanced in her direction as she entered. They looked her up and down, taking in her sword and armor. She worried she’d made a mistake, but they soon decided she was not a threat and returned to their tankards. She stepped farther into the room. One man, younger than the others, kept watching her. Something about the yearning in his eyes made her itch with discomfort. She wished she could cloak herself with her invisibility, but it was too late for that.
She steadied herself and approached the bar. She had no coin and nothing to barter with other than her sword and knife, and she’d part with neither.
Behind the bar a woman with cleavage to spare eyed Caer. Caer shifted uncomfortably, but she wouldn’t hide anymore. She’d spent a lifetime in the shadows. It was time to be warmed by the sun. Soon the woman asked her, “What will it be?”
Caer studied the shelf behind the bar. There were dusty bottles of all shapes and sizes. Once, when she’d had an injured toe, she had stolen one of the brown bottles to pour over her foot to stave off infection. Mathair Mhór had taught her to use what was available. The Land of Shadows had different seasons than her former lands, so certain healing herbs were not attainable. Luckily, fermented beverages were always in abundant supply.
“Buy you a drink?” a man’s hard voice asked as he grabbed her arm.
Caer’s fingers longed to unsheathe her sword, but she didn’t reach for it. The man was the reason she had entered The Howling Wolf. She glanced at the man whose fingers encircled her arm and saw it was the one who had watched her enter. He’d do for what she had in mind. She nodded at him. Words were unnecessary when gestures would do.
“Two drinks,” he said throwing up two of his fingers at the barmaid.
As the drinks were poured, he turned to Caer. “What brings you to these parts?”
“You,” she breathed just above a whisper.
He raised an eyebrow in surprise. His black eyes were flat and lifeless, possessing none of the spark of the brother’s.
Scott, a voice whispered in her mind. His name is Scott.
Caer blocked the brother’s name from her thoughts. It would only make what she wanted to do more difficult.
“Do you want to drink, or do you want to get out of here?” he asked, reaching for her waist.
She gauged this man. A thick beard covered most of his face, and his heavy clothing hid his true size and stature. She guessed he was muscular, but nothing compared to the brother. She could take him in a fight if it came down to it, but she didn’t plan to stick around long enough after they were done to find out.
He leaned into her. “Let’s get out of here.”
He led her outside and turned a corner to the side of The Howling Wolf. It was daylight, but the narrow alleyway was empty. He pushed her up against the building. Definitely not gently, but not entirely rough either. He leaned in with his mouth open. He smelled of sour ale and sweat. Though she’d never been kissed before, she tried not to cringe as his tongue waggled against hers. None of it was how she imagined it to be.
The brother’s face appeared before her, unbidden. She tried to close her mind to him and immerse herself in the man’s embrace instead. Where the brother’s strong lips promised her pleasure, the man’s weak upper lip brought nothing but disgust. His teeth banged against hers again and again as he searched her mouth for . . . well, she didn’t know what.
Eventually she pulled her face away from him, but he didn’t seem to mind. He found her neck instead, licking and sucking in a manner that reminded her of a slug. He reached under her armor and fondled her breasts. His rough hands grabbed and pinched her. She knew some women might find his efforts stimulating, but she wanted nothing more than to shove a knife in his neck.
When his hand crawled down between her legs, the face of the brother appeared again. She knocked the man’s hand away.
“You’ll do best if you don’t resist me,” he growled, trying to shove his hand inside her leggings.
This time she twisted her body as she knocked his hand away again.
“You be nothing but a tease.”
Her fingers itched again. She knew it had nothing to do with anything the man was trying to do to her. She had wanted to lie with him, but now, in the moment, it was the last thing she wanted. He gripped her waist with one arm as he unbuckled his pants with his other. He planned to force himself into her.
That wasn’t going to happen.
She reached over her head and yanked the sword from her scabbard. She forced him away with a mighty kick and held the sword between them.
His gaze trailed the length of the blade to the ruby-studded handle. “That’s not a sword from around here.” His eyes gleamed. “I’ll take that from you,” he said, reaching for the handle.
“It’ll be the last thing you take,” she warned, low and deep.
Without thinking, she sliced his throat. Blood spurted out between his fingers as he clutched the wound. He screamed, stumbling away from her and into the street, collapsing just as he rounded the corner. Soon shouts and warnings echoed through the village. Her time in the company of others had come to an end. Too many people had seen her already. Rumors would spread, just as they had when she went swimming with the children. Balor would find her, even in the Land of Shadows. She pulled her invisibility around her and escaped down the rear of the alley.
Adrenaline coursed through her as she ran from the village. She couldn’t return to Gallean’s keep. He didn’t want her anyway. But the high of killing the man filled her with confidence. If she could find Balor’s weak spot, she could kill him just as she had the man. In order to do so, she needed to go to the very place he’d least expect her.
A shimmering light appeared before her. Without hesitation, she stepped through it.
It was time to go home.
16
Dream Thieves
Gallean grins at me. It’s the first emotion he’s displayed during this testosterone-induced battle. Well, Scott’s testosterone-induced battle. “Now, do you understand why I call him the Angry One?”
I glance at my wigged-out brother, then back at Gallean, finally realizing why Scott’s so upset, though I don’t think he even knows why. “It’s her, isn’t it.”
Gallean doesn’t answer, but I know I’m right. The Shadow Girl is Scott’s swan.
“We need to diffuse his energy,” Gallean says. “He should not
have been able to tap into his own reserves so deeply here.”
Scott’s oblivious to our conversation. He wants to beat the truth out of Gallean but recognizes that he probably shouldn’t do that. The storm intensifies above him as he rounds the courtyard.
“Do you have any ideas? You egged him on.”
The wizard studies the tornado over Scott’s head. “I may have gone too far.”
“You think?” I snap at him.
“It is fascinating. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Remembering the damage Scott caused back at Granda’s cottage, I’m definitely not a fan of Scott the my-own-personal-tornado god. “Trust me, once you’ve seen one, you don’t want to witness another.”
“How does he harness it? Or does he send it out?”
Gallean and I watch him circle the courtyard at superhuman speed. After about the seventh time around, the tornado begins to subside. Around the twenty-first, the tornado drifts back into him and he circles back around to us.
He knows he acted like a freaking moron. He worries that if Gallean refuses to train him, he’ll hurt everyone he cares about along with innocent people. “Do we really need to leave?”
Gallean studies him for several long moments. Scott shrinks under the wizard’s scrutiny. Finally Gallean says, “You do not.”
Scott exhales loudly. “Thank the gods.”
“Don’t thank them. It was I who allowed you to remain. Now, let’s continue.”
Scott dips his head as he turns to me. His cheeks burn with embarrassment. “Sorry about that whole thing.”
“You don’t need to apologize. No harm, no ‘fowl’—although I do miss your feathered friends.”
He rolls his eyes. “I suppose I deserve that one.”
I stand on my tiptoes and pretend to scrutinize the top of his shirt, though I’d need twelve-inch heels to actually see it. “Look on the bright side. At least you don’t have bird shit on your shoulders.”
“No, I don’t,” he says with a twinge of sadness. He doesn’t fully understand why he became so angry at Gallean. He suspects the wizard is keeping secrets from him, but for the time being, he’ll keep his suspicions to himself or run the risk of getting kicked out again. He doesn’t realize that it was his swan at the end of the tunnel. He doesn’t know who it was, just that the person was important to him. I want to tell him his swan is in the Shadow Realm, but Gallean wants to keep that juicy tidbit from him until the timing is right.
The trouble is, Gallean doesn’t fully appreciate how masterfully skilled Scott and I are at screwing up even universally aligned, meteorologically coordinated events. Releasing Clayone was proof of that godly power. Our early arrival to the Shadow Realm, another. It doesn’t matter how planned out our meeting could be, Scott and Gigi—mostly Gigi—will figure out a way to screw it up.
* * *
Surprisingly, we lasted two more days without any tornado episodes on Scott’s part, and I haven’t managed to partake in any serious mayhem, which is kind of a shame. But let me tell you, my body freaking aches. I have pains and bruises on muscles I didn’t know existed. For twelve hours a day, Gallean puts us through rigorous rounds of his dance routine. I used to think that my old gym classes were torture. At least I could skip those. Here, if I try to avoid a session, Gallean finds me. He drags me out of bed. He pulls me back from beyond his borders when I pretend I’m searching for a particular herb. He even found me when I climbed onto to the roof of the keep. I suspect he might have some sort of energy-tracking spell on me. If I knew how to remove it I would, but our magic doesn’t work in this realm.
I still don’t understand why Granda and Clarissa thought Gallean was the only one who could teach us to use our magic if we can’t even use it here. I mean, sure, I’ve learned how to push and pull the energy around me and how to harvest it for my own use, but what happens when a psycho-witch comes after me? Will I be able to handle her in a magic duel?
As if the aches and pains aren’t bad enough, I barely sleep, even though I’m completely exhausted. And when I finally do crash, the nightmares come. They began with Lizzie chaining Alaric to a table. Every time he called my name, even in a whisper, she’d turn a handle and he’d scream in pain. At first his calls to me increased. Not because he wanted me to save him. It was more that he longed for me, just as I longed for him. Then, over the course of the nightmares, as Lizzie tortured him at every utterance of my name, he eventually stopped. It was his silence that scared me the most.
When had Lizzie become so twisted? Was it when she changed into a werewolf?
But werewolves could be capable of good. Alaric’s good—he’d never dream of hurting me. And Madigan’s good—he’s helping us find Alaric. How did Lizzie get all twisted?
I showed her the spell book.
Twist.
She stole the spell book from me.
Twist.
She tried to curse Kensey in the hall.
Twist.
She bought the eyeball necklace.
Twist.
Carman took possession of her.
Twist.
She tortured Kensey in the attic.
Twist. Twist.
It was her idea to go camping—Ryan admitted that to us after she died.
Twist.
She was bitten by Clayone.
Twist. Twist.
She died and later became a werewolf.
Twist.
And then the most startling realization . . .
Clayone created her.
Twist. Twist. Twisted.
* * *
Scott isn’t faring much better than I am. The bags under his eyes make him a candidate for old people eye cream, and each day they get worse. I try not to stare. I don’t want to pry. I get it. My nightmares about Lizzie turning Alaric against me are enough to drive any god mad.
By now, even his dance moves have become affected. Scott is supposed to be the jock of the family. He’s the one blessed with athletic prowess. He’s blessed with the brains too, though I’d never tell him that.
At this point, he can’t even try to eat the eggs and fruit that Gallean prepared for us. He just pushes the food around on his plate.
I sit beside him. “What’s bothering you, Scott?”
“Nothing,” he sighs.
“Well, something’s bothering you.”
He looks over at me, his green eyes serious. “Do you believe in dreams?”
A pit forms in my stomach. If I believed in the dreams I’d been having, I’d never sleep again. The possibility that my werewolf best friend is torturing Alaric into hating me? I can’t believe it.
“I guess the question is not whether I believe in my dreams but whether you believe in yours?”
Wow, I really sound philosophically advanced.
“I don’t know what you’ve been dreaming,” he says. “We’ve barely talked since we got here.”
“Gallean doesn’t leave much time for conversation. I actually think he’s trying to kill us through a long, torturous death with pirouettes and downward dogs.”
“You wouldn’t be so lucky,” Gallean says, sitting down to join us. “Now, what is this about dreams and believing in them?”
Scott swallows. He doesn’t want to share his dreams with Gallean. He doesn’t really want to share them with me either, but they’re doing something to him. I didn’t think dreams could break someone, but Scott is proof that maybe they can.
“Go on,” Gallean says. “Don’t be afraid to share. In order to attain your full potential as Oegden, you must acknowledge all of your truths.”
“It’s just . . .” he starts. “I don’t . . .” he tries. “I . . .”
I rest my hand on him. “Scott,” I whisper, “it’s okay.”
“I keep dreaming of this . . . of this girl.”
“And it’s affecting your sleep?” Gallean asks.
“Yes . . . and no. It’s like . . .” he tries again. “I’ve never . . . I just want to keep sleepi
ng in order to be with her. It’s like I don’t want to wake up in the morning, and I can’t wait to go to bed at night.”
Gallean leans in, curiosity coloring his features. “Has she come every night since you’ve been here?”
“Not the first night, but each night since. She’s all I can think about.”
I squeeze his hand. “Who is she?”
“I don’t know. Someone I’ve never met before, but it’s like . . . I’ve always known her. Does that make sense?”
I’m not thrilled about pouring my guts out to Gallean, but I will for Scott. If I can make him feel even a smidge better, I will. “It does. I feel the same way about Alaric. Even when I found out who his father was and the potential danger I could be in, it didn’t matter. I know him.”
“I want to find her. I feel like she’s . . .” he searches for the right phrasing, “I feel like she’s so lonely, and all I want to do is comfort her. Make her realize that she’s not alone.”
I leap up and hold out my hand to him. “Where do we start?”
He looks up at me. “You’d help me find her?”
“Of course. You’re my brother.”
“But Alaric is still missing.”
And that’s when I decide it’s time to share with Scott a little about Gallean’s visitor. “Yes, but we’re here in the Shadow Realm. Maybe she is too.”
Well done, Gallean places in my head, then turns to Scott. “Can you describe the place where she is?”
“It’s a large lake. A really large lake.”
“Think harder,” he demands.
Scott closes his eyes and looks within himself for an answer that makes sense, that would give us some indication of where this mystery girl could be. Finally, he opens them. “At the head of the dragon. Does that make any sense?”
Gallean rests his forefingers against the edge of his chin. “She’s returned then,” he says barely above a whisper.
I whip my head around. “You do know her. Why didn’t you say something?”
“It is not for me to share with you your past, your present, or your future. I am just a guide along the way, teaching you the means with which to utilize your power.”
