I’d reluctantly traded Fern and cash for a used Toyota all-wheel-drive minivan, which was now packed and parked in the dooryard. Good lord, a minivan. As I’d driven it home, I begrudgingly admitted the thing was sort of sweet. She needed a name.
The last thing I did before I said farewell to my animals was to enter my office where Larrimer had stayed. When I walked into the room, I could feel him, smell him, almost taste him. I stiffened my spine and got on with it.
My mistake was looking where he’d slept before we’d made love.
In the middle of the daybed, resting in its scabbard, was a sword, the shorter one of the two he used to fight.
I sat on the bed and hugged it to me, a beautiful thing that smelled of sweat and passion and pain. Of James, damn him.
Except. Hasty. Yes, Bernadette, I hear you chiding me. Too hasty. But I’d been so pissed off at him, anger toxic in my gut. Not that I’d been wrong. No, dammit, he shouldn’t have secretly dosed me with some magic crap.
But I should have forgiven him.
Maybe. I didn’t know.
All I did know was that he belonged here, with me. And I’d shoved him away.
I was an idiot.
I called him. My heart froze when the mechanical voice said the number had been disconnected.
Minutes later, I used the sledgehammer to smash my computer’s hard drive, then did the same thing with the computer itself. I took the drive with me, along with Larrimer’s sword, then closed the door behind me.
Earlier, Ronan and Lulu left in the Jeep to run a few errands. Darkness had fallen, and I was glad. Time for farewells.
I jogged to the barn and made quick work of it. My chicken girls, Clem and Claudia, my sweet goats—they’d be cared for and loved, just not by me.
I closed the barn doors. Mr. and Mrs. Hillsdale would arrive in the morning.
I stomped my boots as I entered the mudroom and paused. Electricity crackled the air. I reached for my gun, knowing if Tommy was here, things would go south fast.
I shifted to the balls of my feet, held my breath, gun in hand, and opened the door to the kitchen.
A monster black panther sat at attention beside the kitchen table. Except the panther undulated into a calico kitty, which smeared into a swirl of smoke. When it dissipated, I stared at an immense golden eagle, all bright feathers and noble beak. In. My. Kitchen. I blinked fast. Yup, still there.
The electrostatic crackle dampened to a low hiss.
Stunned into silence.
The humongous bird held up one of its waffle-sized talons.
Like I was supposed to shake it? High five it? I waved instead. “Uh, hi.” Brilliant, eh?
A squawk so loud it hurt my ears, then a low chirp.
Imagining a bird the size of a sofa and seeing one standing three feet away is quite a different experience. Oh my, yes.
Amber eyes peered at me with what felt like smugness.
Anouk.
The air oscillated, rolled and surged, and again smoke blurred the bird. When it cleared, a six-foot chocolate-skinned woman stood before me, dressed in black leggings, a long turquoise turtleneck sweater, and knee-high boots. Hair the color of midnight, lips full, breasts prominent, she stared at me with that same, smug look. Anouk.
“Quite the party trick,” I said.
“Thank you, Clea,” the bird-woman said. “May I sit?” A graceful gesture toward the kitchen table.
“Sure.”
“Mind if I smoke?” She reached into the pocket of her sweater.
“Not in the house.”
She shrugged. “I am a shapeshifter, as you believed.”
No shit, Sherlock. “But only sometimes a panther.”
She drew out a cigarette and rolled it between her fingers. “Not my true form. I like messing with your head.”
I slipped into a chair. “Gee, thanks. You’re a golden eagle. What happened to—
A shadow crossed her yes. “I told my people to leave. They are safer in the magicworld, for now.”
“And the calico kitty?”
She smiled. “Another parlor trick. Your calico is just a kitten.”
Her eyes darkened, the electric current surrounding her expanded. My hand holding the gun began to turn away from Anouk toward the floor. I fought it. Not even a wobble.
Panic surged. My fireflies erupted. I held up my right palm even as my left hand was forced down to the table.
Anouk grinned, a nasty one.
My fireflies exploded.
Anouk held up her index finger and twirled, and my fireflies swirled around her digit like cotton candy. She flicked her hand skyward.
They vanished.
My gun hand thwacked onto the table and my gun flew across the room to stop just short of the kitchen cabinets. It dropped to the floor.
“You could have just asked me to put it down!” I said, through clenched teeth.
She released me, two fingers making the victory sign. “This was more fun. You were not really trying, Clea. Then, we would have a real battle.”
I fell back, goosebumps up my spine. “What the hell do you want now?”
“Many things. Most of all, I would like to help you.”
“Oh, like you’ve ‘helped’ me in the past, with your innuendos and half-truths. I almost died. Bernadette is dead.”
“I am aware and am truly sorry about your grandmother. At one time, she was a great warrior. But sarcasm. It is never pretty.”
“I wasn’t aiming for pretty.” I straightened my spine.
She sighed, as if that were the saddest thing in world. “Come. Let us move to the living room? I would enjoy a drink. Perhaps one of your special hot chocolates, with some Frangelico added?”
Apparently she’d checked out my liquor cabinet.
Anouk sauntered to the sofa, hips swaying, a small smile on her face.
I began brewing my hot chocolate. As I stirred the cocoa, I peered into the living room. She sat on the sofa surrounded by contented animals who’d slept through everything.
Anouk turned her head. “There are five humanoid species.”
“Five? What am I miss—”
“And five chests,” she said.
“Five chests! What the hell!”
“Well, it makes sense,” she said with a dark laugh. “Five species. Five chests. Unfortunately, all no longer resemble chests. The Chest of Bone is but one.”
I reached for the Frangelico and poured a dash into her mug, then added a generous amount of bourbon to mine and carried them into the living room. As she took her mug from my hand, she touched my wrist spiral.
Heat shot up my arm, and the spiral glowed.
What couldn’t she do? “Are you like a special shapeshifter?”
“Perhaps,” she said in that silky, smartass voice of hers.
I took the lumpy chair, not wanting to sit anywhere near her. I was ticked off.
“Five humanoid species, five chests,” she said. “Are you listening?”
“My hearing is fine. I can count, too.” I sipped. Hooray for bourbon.
She sat her mug on the table, and held up both hands, one with fingers splayed. “Mage. That is you.” She ticked off one finger. “Shapeshifter. That is me.”
“Yeah, yeah. I get where you’re going with this. I know about the Fae, too.”
“Ah. Vryko.”
“What are those?”
“You would know them as vampires.”
“You’re saying that vamps exist?”
“Garuda’s wings save me, don’t ever call them that. Poor things get a bad rap.” She raised her eyebrows. “Exist? Naturally.”
“There’s nothing natural about any of this. Where are these species hiding, under rocks? I’ve never seen any.”
“You have.” Two handed, she sipped her mug, peering over the rim as if I were a tasty morsel. “Delicious. Finally, the Mundanes, humans, like Muggles.” She giggled. “Such as in that wonderful Harry Potter world.”
Fict
ion. Right.
Her face hardened, and she growled low in her throat. “You have a role.”
“In what?”
“In the retwining of the worlds. We discovered that when you were three and you took out that demon.”
“Another species?”
“Subspecies. You have many things to accomplish.”
“Like what?”
“That is for you to learn on your own. You are the magic. You are The Key.”
I put down my mug. “You know, you’re starting to sound like some bad fantasy movie. Every time we talk, it’s cryptic crap. My only role is escaping from the guys who want me to become their lab rat. And to save Lulu and Ronan from the same fate. I plan to do both. That’s it. I lost the Chest of Bone, and I’m sorry. But it happened. End of story.”
She laughed and cocoa sloshed over the rim of her mug. Caught by her “magic finger,” it never made it to the couch. “You are funny.”
“I live to amuse,” I said. “Just leave, please. I’ve got stuff to do.”
She continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “You hold the Chest of Bone.”
I shook my head. “It’s lost. If anyone has it, it’s The Master.”
“The Master.” She spat the words like poison. “Silly name. He does not have it. You do.”
“He’s alive?” I asked.
She offered a regal nod. “He thought to control Mundanes by sullying them with human flesh. The fool. Where he got that absurd idea from I cannot image. Yes, he lives, but is diminished.”
My brother. My twin. “I don’t want to argue about the chest. You say you’re here to help me. How? By driving me nuts? To give me an encyclopedia of magic? What?”
“You have left the chest, and you must take it with you.”
“I’m beat. You’re yelling. Go away.”
She tilted her head. “My Voice did not compel you?”
“Only to want you to leave.”
One finger tapped her chin. “Interesting. I thought our dossier on you was complete. We must add addenda.”
“Who are we?”
“The Guardians.”
“Plural? I thought there was only one.”
She hissed her annoyance. “Five chests. Five—”
“Five Guardians. Yeah, yeah, okay.”
She paused, head tilted, as if listening. “They will be here in forty-five minutes.”
Back to that again. “The Guardians?”
“No. Those who want you, and they would love to have me, too.” A hiss slipped from her lips. “I will be gone. I hope you are, also.”
“Oh, I’ll be gone, all right. Why can’t you find the chests, if you’re so powerful and magical?”
“Because they have changed. The chests lived in the mundane world for so long. I already explained. I can no longer locate my Chest of Stone.”
Chest of Stone? I needed some answers. “You’re a Guardian, like Dave.”
She nodded. “He found the Chest of Bone! Locate it and leave, or it will be again unguarded, and they will find it with their meters and divining rods and thumpers.”
For all her vagueness about “they” and “it” and “thems,” I sensed truth in all she said. Well, some truth. Sensing alleged Guardian shapeshifters was new to me.
“You don’t comprehend technology, do you?” I asked.
She cut me a sharp look. “It confuses me! I am all magic. From the other side, now forced to live here because of you.”
“Don’t blame me, big bird. Too bad you don’t have yellow feathers.” Ohhh, the look I earned was vicious. “If the Chest of Bone is here, I’ll just give it to you.”
She shook her head. “No, no, no. First, it is not mine to take. Second, as The Key, it is your task to assemble the chests.
I didn’t want it. “I decline. I resign from Keyhood.”
She wafted a hand like some frigging princess. “I am afraid you have no choice. You were born such. The chests are drawn to you. And you, to them.”
My hands curled into fists. “Not interested. Don’t give a crap. I’m going back to being a Mundane.”
In a languid motion, she draped an arm across the back of the sofa. A smile ghosted her face. “What would you say if I told you your mother is a Guardian?”
I smiled. “My mother is long dead.”
“No.” She waggled her index finger at me. “You were meant to believe that. Now, I am telling you differently. And it is truth. Viviane lives.”
My mam. I had no photos. No stories. No scent.
But hands, petite hands, tossing me gently into the air.
Hope blossomed inside me. If my mother were alive, how wonderful. But if that were true, it also meant she’d abandoned me to Bernadette’s care. There went the tiny violins.
“My father?” I asked, hope blossoming. But I knew the truth. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”
“Yes, a brave man, a wise one, and a potent Mage.” She stood. “I really must go. I need a smoke.”
The irony of her smoking wasn’t lost on me.
The dogs tear-assed to the mudroom window. A sound in the drive, The Jeep. Ronan and Lulu.
I turned back. “Anouk.”
She stood before me. “I have a gift for you.” She drew something from her pocket and held out her palm. In it sat a rectangular black box with rounded corners. Plain. No markings. No lid that I could see. “This is keyed to you. A vault for the Chest of Bone. Once you find the chest—”
“Why can’t you just show me where the damned thing is?”
“Now, that would be cheating.” She smirked. “No, in truth, I cannot. I do not know precisely where it is. Nor would I recognize it. Only you, The Key, can do so. Only you can reveal its true form.” She chuffed out a breath. “As I was saying before you impolitely interrupted me, you must activate its magic again.”
“And how am I supposed to do that?”
“Do? As The Key, you are the magic. You will know when the time comes.”
Could she be more obscure? Geesh.
“Then, you will put the Chest of Bone inside this vault, for safety. Thus it will be cloaked from all manner of magical beings, as well as from them.”
“The Union, you mean.”
She nodded. “Take it.”
“You just love giving orders.” But I took the box, and as I did, the brush of feathers tickled my palms. “Oh my.”
“Do your job.” She took my shoulders and kissed each cheek. “See you around.”
Smoke spiraled about her, and dissolved. The great bird looked at me, blinked and vanished. Poof. Another damned poof!
ong minutes later, the kids barreled into the house.
Lulu’s hair—gods—it was short, spiky, and bright purple. “Wow.”
She giggled. “A disguise.”
It was certainly that. “You all set in here?”
“Everything’s in the van,” Lulu said. “Packed and ready.”
“Your jewelry?” I asked. “Blue Monkey? Bras?”
“Got ‘em.”
“Super. Check that the stalls are all clean, the water’s fresh, and the barn’s neat for the Hillsdales tomorrow. Make sure the bird feeders are filled, too. Thanks!”
The Union was on their way here. Time to pick up the pace.
Anouk said the Chest of Bone was here. Since she’d given me the ebony box, she must be certain. Apparently, I’d been wrong about Dave’s calligraphy chest. I’d felt power, but he’d handled it a lot, was a Guardian. Wouldn’t Tommy have sensed it wasn’t the chest? But no, not at first. Anouk said only I could do that as The Key. Golly gee, wasn’t I special.
I dashed up the stairs carrying the ebony box. That niggle had grown.
Lulu’s room. If it wasn’t there, I would eat my Key-ness.
Her clothes, some photos, her stuffed bear, all gone and in the minivan. I’d better name the damned car soon.
My eyes snagged on Lulu’s jewelry box. A plastic box with the twirling ballerina. This “chest” had most certainl
y not been created millennia ago. She said she’d taken her jewelry. So why hadn’t she packed the box?
Perhaps something else as work, eh?
Each time I’d touched the plastic box, I’d been wearing gloves.
I held out my hands, then stopped. What if I was wrong?
What if I was right?
I reached for the jewelry box. Magnetic pulses, feathery ones, across my palms, then the backs of my hands and up my forearms. Fireflies swirled, and power fisted into me, my wrist spiral flaring like a frickin’ neon sign. The hairs on my arms stood at attention.
Beneath my fingers, the box moved.
I jumped back. It was changing shape.
Groaning, the case morphed from a girl’s ballerina box into an oval coffer with a curved lid, about five inches in diameter. Not plastic, but mellow bone that shone with an old patina. It throbbed, like a human heart.
Golden runes slid across its face and down its sides, their swooping letters, Tolkienesque, interspersed with The Ouroboros, The Dragon, The Eye. Dave’s tattoo. When the runes and symbols covered the entire box, it stilled.
I touched it again. It hummed, the sound oscillating inside me, a half-remembered melody.
The Chest of Bone.
I lifted the lid, and the overwhelming scent of air just after a lightning strike spilled out. Inside, black. Empty. Unfathomable.
I saw nothing.
I saw everything.
I tumbled into the chest.
Stars on a night field… Swirls of colored chiffon… Scents of oleander, rose, pine and honey… Larrimer, Bernadette, Da… Pegasus, Bobo, Cerberus… Spielberg, Capra, Fellini… Chocolate, bourbon, lobster… Chimes, a Mozart melody, whispers… Wolf-men, vampires, Dave… The Storybook, the Queen, the souls… Golden fireflies swirling around, around, a galaxy, a spiraled nebula, dancing fast, faster, and worlds upon worlds upon worlds upon…
I smacked the lid down.
My fireflies encompassed the chest, hands pulsed once.
A snick. A click. Activated. Alive.
Something had changed, something I didn’t understand, but should. I should. Because I knew deep in the recesses of my soul. Something had begun.
Shaking, my fingertips clutched the box that sang an incandescent song. Centimeter by centimeter, I tugged my mind from the Otherworld back to this one—the bedroom, the house, the farm, the kids.
Chest of Bone (The Afterworld Chronicles Book 1) Page 37
