by Tia Louise
I was on the cliff, near the observatory when he hit me with the wave of his power. With a quiet lunge, I’m on the rock, looking deep into the woods for any signs of a fault line or shift in the earth’s surface. I don’t see anything unusual.
Through all my studies in the library I couldn’t find any record of fault lines or earthquakes in the area. Still, it has to be here. He said the ley line crossed a rift between the worlds. It’s the only thing that makes sense. I was too close to the boundary. He was either coming or going, and I startled him, causing him to lash out in self-defense.
Hopping down, I plunge deep into the forest. My large paws barely make a sound in the damp leaves. Lifting my head, I scent the air. Moldering wood, crisp maple… Someone’s burning a fire off to the west. Heading back in the direction of the university, I cut a wide path to the north to avoid being seen.
The scent of fire has me curious. It’s not cold enough for fire, and it doesn’t smell like burning leaves. Running at top speed, I reach the edge of the forest. An open field is between the point where I’m hidden in the underbrush and a series of ancient brick buildings. A lone highway cuts through the field, and patches of trees line either side. The fire is coming from behind those buildings.
It’s a risk, but I’m willing to take it. A black panther cutting across an empty field in broad daylight is just asking to be caught, but the thought of Mercy pushes me on. Running at top speed, I reach the first line of trees without incident. A car zips past on the two-lane road, no change in speed. I stay low watching as it disappears.
No other cars are coming, and the scent of fire is stronger. Turning toward the network of buildings, I run to the first one. Heavy wooden doors stand open, and a bright green vine climbs the center. Looking inside, spoiled grey tiles are broken and bits of wood are scattered across the floor. Graffiti covers the walls in bold red and blue symbols.
Continuing on toward the smell of burning, I pass another open door. Inside are two rows of pews with a wide passage down the center ending at an altar. A cross is suspended in front of a large, stained-glass window. The glass is missing and the wooden framing hangs like broken teeth in a gaping black mouth.
The scrape of a metal door closing jerks me to attention. Dropping back, I duck under what appears to be the remains of a woodshed and wait, doing my best not to make a sound.
Shuffling of feet echoes in the passage to my left. An old man moves slowly through the debris of what appears to be an abandoned church or convent.
“If I catch you, I’ll throw the full weight of the law against you!” He shouts in my direction, but I don’t move. “Damn kids have no respect for anything.”
He shuffles on a few more paces then I hear him pull up quick. Pulling back further into my hiding place I hear him inhale deeply. “Hmm,” he says in a stage whisper. “Something new in these parts.”
Leaning against the open doorway, he pulls a pipe out of his pocket and taps it on his wrist. “Only thing worse than vandals is all the damn immortals lurkin’ around here.” He lifts the pipe to eye-level and peers into the bowl. “Have to light a fire to get rid of the smell.”
He continues in my direction, and I’m pretty sure he knows I’m here. A quiet inhale tells me this guy is more than human. He’s a shifter, although I can’t tell what kind in his human form. His comment puzzles me. Shifters are not immortal, which means he can only be referencing one thing.
Cautiously, I step toward the light, peering out at the crusty old caretaker. His back is to me, but I see his muscles tense. He knows I’ve come forward, but he isn’t engaging me.
“I’ll be getting back to the fire now. Have to make the rounds of the cemetery before it gets too late. Make sure no vagrants are hanging about the place.”
I watch as he shuffles down the lane and out of sight. It’s the lucky break I need, and I take off following the tree line back to Doris’s house for clothes.
Digging
Koa
I’m back at what I now know is the St. Dymphna Convent. It’s been abandoned for almost eighty years, and the old man is the caretaker for the cemetery. Doris had some choice words for the guy, but I’m certain he has the answers I seek.
Walking up the lane in my human form, I’m struck by the size of the place. The main building is a massive brick structure with arched entryways and detailed scrollwork along the windows and balconies.
The old man is nowhere in sight, and I walk the overgrown pathways until I’ve reached the other side where the graveyard is located. It’s empty as well, and I move slowly among the neatly lined headstones. The statue of an angel, kneeling with a bowl on her lap, is covered in a thin layer of green fungi. Down a bit is a long slab of concrete with the statue of a woman lying on top. She appears to be weeping. It disturbs me.
“I call that one Maria.” The old man’s scratchy voice makes me spin around. “She looks like she’s crying for her lost child.”
He’s dressed in baggy brown corduroys and a long-sleeved brown plaid shirt. A vest hangs open from his skinny shoulders, and a tweed driver’s cap is on his head. The only thing distinguishing him from any regular human is his height. He’s tall as me.
“She could be crying for a lost lover,” I say, hoping to nudge him back to what he was saying earlier.
“Meh, she’s got nice round tits.” He pulls out the pipe again, lighting it this time. “She’d be able to find a new lover.”
His implication irritates me, but I continue fishing. “See many ghosts in your line of work?”
“Not as many ghosts, though the town has its fair share of the supernatural.” He blows a ring of smoke and looks up at the trees before casting his attention on me. “You here visiting relatives?”
Doris’s explanation of who I am enters my mind. “I have an aunt in town. Doris White.”
He nods. “That kid of hers got hit in the head as a child. He’s been funny ever since.”
“Jim,” I say, looking down.
“Yep.” The wind rushes through the trees and a waterfall of yellow leaves rains down around us. The man holds out his hand and catches one. “Good luck to catch a leaf.”
Glancing up, I reach out to catch one as well, but just before it hits my palm, it darts away on the wind. I reach for another, but the same sequence occurs. Pushing off the statue where I’m leaning, I step out, determined to catch one. Frustration burns in my chest.
“Not as easy as it looks,” he says as I finally get one in my hands. Holding it up I raise my eyebrows before letting it go. “Nope. You dropped your luck.”
My brow lines. “You didn’t say I was supposed to keep it.”
“Didn’t know I had to tell you everything.” He takes another pull on his pipe, and I decide to cut to the chase.
“I’m looking for something. I think you might be able to help me.”
His lips move back, and I see his teeth clenched on the pipe stem. “You’re tracking the immortal. It’s his time to resurface.”
“He took someone… I need to get her back.”
Hazel eyes cut to me. “No one comes back once they’re taken.”
“Still… there’s a rift. Somewhere near the town, there’s a way across.” He nods, and hope expands in my chest. “I hoped you could tell me where it’s located.”
“Never seen it,” he says flatly, starting his slow walk back toward the convent.
It takes me a moment to recover, but I’m right behind him. “I was pretty sure you knew how to find it earlier today.”
“Nope.” He shakes his grey head topped with that silly hat.
His shuffling step increases the distance between us, and the frustration grows in my chest. Hustling up behind him, I move around in front of him, stopping his progress.
“If you want money, I can get you money. I need to find the passage.”
Taking the pipe from his mouth, he squints up at me. “I mind my own business in these parts. Things pass by me, but I don’t ask questions. All I
know is they’re passing.”
“Okay,” I say, nodding, trying to be encouraging. “When it passes, which way is it headed.”
“Away.” That answer elicits a low growl from me, and the man pulls up short. “What I do know is in the mythology, Aeneas and Odysseus found a passage to the underworld near a lake.”
Considering this information, I nod slowly. Nightmoon Lake is north of here. As if reading my thoughts, the old man calls back to me.
“His path was always north-south, and back again.”
“Thank you,” I say, but I don’t know that he heard me.
He’s already rounded the corner of a far building when I look up again. I don’t have time to waste. The sun is dipping low on the horizon, and I want to get to Nightmoon Lake while it’s still open for business.
* * *
Jim is unusually animated as I drive his truck the short distance to the lake. “Dude, I thought you would go with Mercy to California when she left.”
“I will,” I say, not really listening.
“But she’s gone, bro. You two have a plan or something?”
The entrance to the lake is a small guard’s hut with a big sign that says “Park Closes at Dark.” Looking up through the windshield, I calculate we’ve got about thirty minutes before we’re forced to leave.
“Yeah, we’ve got a plan.” Handing over a fiver, I drive to the large body of water, taking the slow curve that leads to the cabins along the creek. “Say, Jim, you ever heard of any unusual things happening around here? People going missing or getting lost?”
“Dude, people get lost in these woods all the time. The trees all look alike.”
“Yeah,” I say, nodding. “But have you heard of anything else?”
“I don’t know what you’re asking me, bro.”
Stopping the truck, I put it in park and look out across the broad expanse of dark water.
“I don’t think you’re supposed to park in the road like this,” Jim says, looking over his shoulder behind us.
“What about a fault line? Ever heard of anything like that?”
“Like earthquakes and stuff?”
Looking over at him, I nod. “Anything?”
He frowns, scratching his chin as he thinks. I confess, I’m holding my breath waiting for anything that might help me find Mercy.
“Sorry, dude. I don’t know about anything like that.” He crinkles his forehead looking up at the sky. “We’d better head on back. It’s starting to get dark.”
Fighting the ear-splitting roar of frustration burning in my mind, I turn the key and head us back to Doris’s house and my apartment. We’re just pulling into the driveway when Jim suddenly blurts.
“Sally has a friend who studies tectonics at the university. If you want, I can ask her if he knows of anything.” His face falls. “It wouldn’t be until tomorrow, though.”
Breath whooshes in my lungs. I almost grab him in a hug. “Just see what you can find out. I need you to do this for me, okay? It’s important.”
Jim nods, and when he looks at me, I know he thinks I’m losing it.
* * *
Mercy
My eyes open, and I’m in a large, shadowy room. The walls are covered in black embossed wallpaper, and the furnishings are black wood with deep purple fabric. The ceiling is impossibly tall, and every arch meets in a sinister point.
Jagged edges and twisting spires like ominous stalactites are everywhere I look. It reminds me of the medieval gothic art I used to study when I was a little girl alone in Hayden’s mansion. I would look at the pictures wondering who would live in such a place when all I dreamed of was golden sparkling waters and soft beaches.
Now I know.
Enormous windows hide behind black velvet curtains, but even if they were opened, no light would filter in. The sky is grey but not cloudy. There’s simply no sun here.
Slipping from the bed, I look down to see I’m wearing a long, filmy white gown. I don’t remember putting it on. The last thing I remember is opening my eyes in the courtyard of this stone castle and crying. Looking up to see my beautiful sun-kissed world replaced by this shadowy underground.
I’m Thumbelina taken by the mole. Sunlight and warmth are a distant memory, and my only hope of freedom would be a dead bird, frozen with its heart still beating. The old story pushes a bubble of despair higher in my chest until I exhale a gasped cry. “Will it always be like this?”
I look around the shadowy corners of my room, the black and purple corridors that now compose my home. For a moment, I think of Penny and her fear of shadows. How long will this be my life? If only I were a mortal, I could count on fifty, sixty more years in this prison. As a shifter it could be more than a hundred.
Dropping my head into my hands I fight the tears. I’m on the verge of despair when I hear a loud noise at what I presume is my door. I can’t see it hidden in the gloom. Another loud rap, and I speak.
“Come in?” It’s a question because I’m not sure if I have the right to forbid whomever is knocking at my door.
Is Hayden allowed to do whatever he wants with me? Am I allowed to deny him entrance? Will his minions torment me?
A low creak precedes his appearance, but he’s so transformed, I almost don’t recognize him. Only his eyes are the same and the sound of his voice.
“I hope you’re settling in.” He pauses at the dresser.
His usual tailored suit is replaced with what looks like armored black leather, tight on his tall, slim frame. A girder is at his waist, and a black cape flows from his shoulders. On his head is a crown that appears to be made of bone, and his fair hair is now long down his back. He’s stunning as Lord of the Underworld. The only problem is he isn’t my gorgeous panther.
“Sleep well?” he says. “That gown is lovely on you.”
Clearing my throat, I answer. “I don’t remember anything after you brought me here. I guess I slept well. Or I was drugged.”
Long fingers clasp at the cape swirling around his slim hips, and his nails are now pointed, long and black. “You were not drugged. I’m sure the stress of the day fatigued you.”
My lip catches between my teeth. “Hayden…” His name is a broken whisper on my lips. It causes him to perk up.
“Yes, my love? Is there something you want?” He takes a few steps toward me. “You can have anything.”
Breath hiccups in my throat. My stomach hurts, and my hand flies to cover my mouth. For a moment, I close my eyes and inhale, exhale… get control. He’s unmoved by my response.
When I feel I’m finally able, I speak. “It’s not nice to be disingenuous.”
“Whatever do you mean?” His slim lips curve into a grin.
“You said I could have anything I want. That isn’t true.”
Straightening, I see longing in his eyes. “I would hope one day the only thing you’ll want will be the same as me.”
“I want you to let me go…” My voice breaks, and I squeeze my eyes shut. I can’t believe I’ve lost control. Control is the only thing I have left.
Anger flashes across his perfect features, and he turns in a swirl of black. “I’ll give you a little more time to yourself.”
My door slams, and a sharp CLATCH! tells me the bolt has been locked behind him. I won’t be leaving this room today.
Lifting my arms, I study the elegant, flowing gown I’m wearing. It perfectly matches Hayden’s long black robes, only mine are the diametric opposite. I’m rainbow and light, while he’s darkness and shadows. My hair falls around my shoulders in rippling raven waves, and I see on a small table a crown like Hayden’s. Queen of the Underworld? I’m no immortal.
Reaching forward, I crawl on my hands and knees into the center of the enormous black bed. Everything is darkness here, from the walls and ceiling to the sheets and blankets covering me.
Closing my eyes, I focus on last night, Koa’s strong arms around me, his words. He promised he would come for me. He promised. Despair tries to overcome me,
and my mind says it’s impossible. No one can save me. Still I focus on his words. His promise.
My panther is so sleek and gorgeous. I remember the first time I saw him. His lashing tail, the power in his muscled shoulders as he commanded the forest. If anyone can save me, he can. My insides relax ever so slightly as I envision his lined torso and imposing physique. Squeezing my eyes tightly, I think the words I hope he can hear. I love you, my Koa. I love you my beautiful panther. I believe you will come for me. It’s the only thing that gives me hope.
I’m here because his life is more important than escaping my fate. Still, if there’s any way out of this, I know he’ll find it. I have to believe in him. His words have become my words: I can’t live without my soul.
Searching
Koa
Every moment I’m away from Mercy, my desperation builds. She’d been confident she could handle Hayden, but I know my beautiful little lynx. She’s strong, but she’s young.
Hades or Kanaloa or Hayden — whatever label he chooses in the mythology of the culture — has been around since the dawn of time. He might find my beautiful little cat amusing, but she won’t tweak his nose for long. The myths and legends describing him starving and beating his captives propel me from my bed. It’s early Saturday, and Jim might have word for me on what I hope is the passage to the underworld.
Naturally, I didn’t tell him that’s what I’m trying to find, but if there’s a fault line in the vicinity of Nightmoon Lake, I’m confident it’s the gateway. It lines up with where I was the night I felt him and with what the cemetery caretaker said.
Pulling on dark jeans and a black tee, I dig further in the closet and find a leather jacket. I don’t remember it being here before. My brow lines, but I pull it on. It’s a perfect fit. I can only assume this is more of Dora’s work. Black boots on, I head out the door and down the stairs. Jim’s truck is in the driveway.
