Sword of Elements Series Boxed Set 2: Bound In Blue, Caught In Crimson & To Make A Witch

by Heather Hamilton-Senter

  Wood doesn’t like fire.

  Taliesin put his hand on Daley’s shoulder. “Easy, son. There is no need for us to be at odds. Miss Lynne has formed the impression she is being held here against her will and I apologize for that unfortunate misunderstanding. I am merely concerned for both her safety and the safety of others until she has greater knowledge and control concerning her abilities.”

  I’d had enough. “I’ve been around for nearly eighteen years and haven’t managed to kill anyone yet, you know.”

  “For nearly eighteen years you were hidden in the dark of the moon,” Taliesin replied. He meant Mom and whatever she’d done to me with that misty blue.

  Taliesin crossed the floor to stand in front of me. He wasn’t tall and we were almost eye to eye. “If you are no enemy to us, then I am no enemy to you. I will help you understand who and what you are and you will be free to choose your own path and destiny as long as it does not threaten mine.”

  “I want to go home,” I insisted stubbornly.

  “Will you at least return so we may investigate this ability of yours? Will you give us a chance to prove that we, at least, mean no harm?”

  I gave in. “I could come with Peter after school on Monday.”

  Peter cleared his throat. “Sorry Rhi, but I’m staying for a few days.”

  “What? Why?”

  “There are other Protectors here. They’re out on patrol right now, but I’ll meet them when they get back. This might be my one chance to learn about what I am.” His eyes pleaded with me to understand.

  I knew if I insisted, I could probably get Peter to come home with me, but would that be abusing the bond between us? Would I be yanking on his Protector chain or the friend one?

  “What are you going to tell your mom and dad?”

  “Early morning practices, crashing with one of the guys—it’ll be easy.”

  I nodded and the relief on his face confirmed my suspicion that I could have made it difficult for him to go against me.

  “I’ll cover for you with your parents, but what about school?”

  Lacey had been uncharacteristically quiet till now. “I’ve got it,” she said. “If I take in a note to the office saying Peter has mono or something, they’ll never question the signature.” She was right. The staff loved Lacey and would just be happy the most popular boy and the most popular girl were back together. Peter thanked her, but for once, Lacey didn’t respond to his attention.

  Maybe it bums her out to know people only love her because she has lorelei blood in her veins.

  Goodfellow clapped his hands together. “Then it’s settled. I will escort Miss Lynne to her car. If she wants to come back of her own free will later then that’s her business.”

  “Will you return then?” Taliesin asked.

  I tried not to hesitate. “I’ll come on Monday after school.”

  Taliesin nodded once to me and once to Goodfellow before turning and walking away. His footsteps made no sound.

  “The bard preserves his skills I see,” The Green Man commented. “Many a time he once padded through my forests, as silent as the wind.” He glared at Daley and his electrified hair. “Now he contents himself with using my kin like pack mules to deliver himself through the Paths of the world.”

  Rowan cleared his throat. “Lord Forest, you know that’s not strictly true. They are not your Paths to control.”

  Goodfellow grunted and lifted one shaggy eyebrow. “Are they not? Without me and mine, you’d be lost if you tried to walk them. The Paths are the ghosts of the forests of the world, and only those of my kind are truly welcomed by them. Remember that, Druid, the next time you order yourself up a Guide.”

  “Yes, my lord,” Rowan murmured, bowing from the waist.

  I gasped and turned to Rowan in panic. “Wait! Get Taliesin back! He left that indigo inside me.”

  “It’s OK, kiddo. I’m the one who’s been maintaining it. A binding dissipates quickly. To slow it down, I channeled it into the wood frame of the house. I’ll remove it now.”

  Goodfellow chuckled. “You can take the druid out of the forest, but it seems you can’t take the forest completely out of the druid.”

  Rowan made a complicated gesture with his right hand. Indigo cleared from my vision like a fog lifting, but a confusing mash-up of colors replaced it and blinded me for a moment. When I looked at Goodfellow, I thought I saw colors surrounding him: emerald, moss, and sage.

  He motioned to the door and we all followed him outside. His men walked away into the trees on the one side of the property, but before I could ask where they were going, I had to jump out of the way as Lacey got in her car and sped off in a squeal of tires.

  Peter pulled me aside. “Are you going to be OK?”

  I forced myself to smile. “Of course I will. Go on. Go play with your new friends.” He ruffled my hair before walking back to the house. The door was still open and I could see Miko sitting on the stairs playing with her hair. Daley stood on the porch looking, well, thunderous was the best way to put it. Tynan joined him and gave a small wave, but I turned away without responding. I would have to sort out how I felt about what happened when I didn’t feel like I was going to hurl.

  Following Goodfellow to my car, I nearly ran straight into his broad back when he stopped abruptly. He sniffed the air and then I smelled it too: the briny odor of seaweed. In all the drama, I’d forgotten about what Peter and I had discovered.

  “Take care, Miss Lynne.” Goodfellow shook his head and sniffed again. “Something may be hunting you.” After that horrifying statement, he smiled and plucked the holly out of his pocket. The red berries gleamed against the greenish tint of his skin. “Place this over your door. Holly is a symbol of life, but its sign was a spear; it will keep most unwanted things from entering. Once upon a time, maidens would put it under their pillows in the hopes of dreaming of the man they would marry, but the holly may also bring dreams of another kind and it’s wise to pay attention.”

  I took it, careful to not catch my fingers on the prickly tips of the leaves. “Thank you for helping me out.”

  He raised a shaggy eyebrow. “I’ve watched Gwion Bach since he was a child. Taliesin he calls himself now. He has power and even one such as myself should be careful not to anger him, but still, he’s a pompous ass, isn’t he?”

  I nearly choked on my own spit as I laughed, even though a pounding whirl of colors was the price and I had to lean against the car to steady myself.

  Goodfellow handed me another one of his cards with an address scribbled on the back. “Come and see me tomorrow around noon. I have something for you from Viviane.” When I looked at him in surprise, he shook his head and didn’t elaborate. In an old-fashioned gesture, he held my hand to help me into my car and then closed the door behind me. Then he walked into the trees and disappeared from sight. I tried to see where he went, but the forest had swallowed him whole.

  I placed the card and the holly on the passenger seat and gunned it out of the driveway without waiting to see if anyone was still watching from the house. If I thought too hard about colors and magic and things hunting me, I would never have the courage to go home, but I’d made too much of a fuss about leaving to just turn around and admit I was afraid to go.

  As I drove, my returning colors grew bolder. I’d always been able to see them and still see the world normally, but they were more tangible now, as if they hung in the air in front of me. My head hurt. Somehow I made it home and got to the bathroom before I vomited violently. Falling onto my bed, I collapsed into sleep, but color followed me even there.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Maybe it was because of the holly, but the nightmare was subtly different. I looked up from the warm embrace of the woman who carried me and saw a young man following us, though the light was too dim to make out his features clearly. The woman stopped and turned to speak to him, but I couldn’t hear the words; the dream had always been silent except for the sound of her heart and my own breathin
g. She began walking with increased urgency and so did the young man though he kept his distance. With a familiar gesture, he brushed long hair out of his eyes.

  I woke with a start.

  It’s just a dream. People see crazy things in dreams.

  I could hear the drizzle of rain falling on the roof and the light filtering through the blinds was grim. Reaching for the glass of water and bottle of acetaminophen on my bedside table, I swallowed a couple of pills and closed my eyes until my headache receded.

  After I showered and dressed, I decided to go to the bakery. It was a little bit of a drive, but it was the only place local that sold French macarons. When Peter and his parents went to church—they were heavily involved in their local congregation—Mom would never let me go with them. She would go to the bakery and get a box of macarons—jewel colored meringues shaped like UFOs with jam or cream in the center. I thought it was our special ritual, but maybe she was just pawning me off with a treat to keep me from wanting to go with them.

  I suppose it’s reasonable that a god might not want her kid to spend her Sundays learning about a rival one.

  As I left the house, I checked the sprig of holly to make sure it was still wedged into the loose piece of siding above the door. Even after a chilly night, it was fresh and green.

  The bakery was quieter than usual because of the rain and only one of the tables was occupied. I breathed in the sweet smell of sugar. Ordering a dozen macarons in raspberry, pistachio, and salted caramel, I promised myself I would save some for later, but knew I’d end up eating them all before lunch.

  As I waited for my order to be boxed, I realized the group sitting at the table was watching me. I wasn’t used to people paying attention to me yet and mauve discomfort filled me. When the waitress handed me my change, I rushed out of the café, fumbling in my pocket for my keys.

  “What’s your hurry?”

  Startled, I dropped the keys on the pavement as a woman walked around me. She bent down to pick them up and held them in front of my face. I snatched them back and shoved them in my pocket.

  We stared at each other. The woman’s skin was pale and drops of moisture clung to the fiery red strands that had escaped from the elaborate braid draped over her shoulder. Around her neck she wore a thick gold choker open at the center and engraved with strange symbols. I blinked first; the rain had turned to a fine mist that coated my lashes.

  The rest of the group wandered out to join her, two men and another woman. They all wore black though the styles varied. The woman in front of me wore a leather jacket belted at the waist, leggings, and low-heeled boots.

  Looks like someone rented the Matrix.

  I made a move to walk past her and she countered to block me. “So you’re the Anomaly.” She almost spat it. There were some sniggers from the others. This was a gang—a very stylish one—but still a gang.

  I was surprised. No one had ever noticed me enough to bully me. “Yup, that’s me, the big old anomaly. Who the hell are you?”

  The woman smirked. She knew who I was so she had to be one of Taliesin’s Protectors. He may have backed down, but there was a real threat here, I was sure of it.

  I tried to remember what I’d done by instinct when I faced the Cŵn Annwn. Closing my eyes, I tried to use my interior vision to see the power inside this woman—because she had power, I was sure of it. There was more laughter, but I forced myself to concentrate. The Cŵn Annwn was pure and simple, but as the outline of her form appeared in my mind, it was filled with an elusive and shifting landscape of color. A couple of hues dominated—gold and red—but tainting them all was a black that charred the others wherever it touched them.

  I reached out my hand and heard her intake of breath when I brushed her arm. I shuddered. I could feel the blackness emanating from inside and eddying around her. The woman pushed me away but not before I managed to grasp some of it.

  There was shouting, but I ignored it. In my mind, I looked at the strand of blackness held in the mental image of my hand. It felt like despair. It felt like power fed by strong emotion. Power used to hurt.

  Hurt just for the sick satisfaction of it.

  The dark power seemed to acknowledge my recognition; it twisted in my hand and changed its shape into a whip. When I imagined snapping it at the ground, I heard the crack. Pain shot through me and I opened my eyes.

  So much for synesthesia.

  I held a length of some black substance in my hand and by the shocked look on the woman’s face, I knew she could see it too. Pulling the trailing end across the wrist of the hand still holding the pastry box, I could feel its slithering weight on my arm. I snapped it at the ground between us and the woman jumped back while the others gathered in a frightened knot behind her.

  A whip was the right shape for it. I wasn’t sure how I knew, but this power was used to torment, even torture. I wondered if the woman knew. I wondered if she’d ever used it on anyone.

  Shaking the black rope off, I grabbed the woman by the arm. Before she could resist, I closed my eyes to see the aura of color surrounding her and then hooked my fingers into it. She shoved me away, but I held on and pulled with mental, physical, and maybe even spiritual effort. After a brief resistance, black power flowed out of her and rushed towards me. I fell onto my back on the wet pavement as it surrounded me. It poked and prodded at me, trying to find a way in, but I held my breath and kept my eyes shut tight. I couldn’t let it in the way I did with the Cŵn Annwn’s power. I didn’t want to know what this dark magic felt like.

  The pressure disappeared. I opened my eyes and saw black smoke pluming into the air to be shredded and washed away by the rain.

  I pushed myself up into a crouch. The pastry box was still in my left hand and I had to use my right to steady myself as I got to my feet. The woman stared at me, panting, before turning and walking away. She gestured and the others followed.

  Nausea hit me as the pounding in my head doubled. I got the keys out of my pocket, but they slipped from my fingers and it took me two tries before I could pick them up. Stumbling to the car, I slid in and tossed the pasty box on the passenger seat, but a terrible smell cut through the pain and I pried open the lid. The macarons were ash that steamed and stank.

  I threw the box out the window.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  I parked in front of a building on a side street downtown and checked the back of Goodfellow’s card to make sure I was at the right address. The place was abandoned and there were no other cars in the small parking lot. I expected it to be locked, but the front door opened into a dingy vestibule with an old elevator on one side and a roped off stairway on the other. I made my choice and pushed the cracked and yellowed elevator button. When the door jerked open and I stepped in, I tried not to imagine rusty cables breaking and sending me hurtling down to the ground in a heap of twisted steel.

  The ancient contraption creaked its way to the next floor, and after a jolt, the door opened again and I stepped into a spacious foyer of white marble and walls covered in elegant grass cloth. The air was cool and damp.

  “Hello?”

  “Miss Lynne? Is that you?” Goodfellow emerged from around a corner wiping his hands on a frilly tea towel. He was dressed in head to toe green again. “I wasn’t expecting you for another hour. Is everything all right?”

  After the incident with the woman, I hadn’t wanted to be alone and had come straight over, but all I said was, “I didn’t mean to be early. I’m sorry if I’m interrupting anything.”

  He waved my apology away and tossed the towel back into what must be the kitchen. “Not a problem, my dear. Come into the living room and we’ll have a little chat.”

  I followed him into a large room decorated in green and white and then almost immediately sank weak-kneed into the closest chair. Outside the floor to ceiling windows, trees stretched for miles and faded into distant, foggy mountains.

  You’re not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy.

  “Where are we?”

>   Goodfellow held out his arms as if he could embrace the view. “One of my favorite places in all the world—Gwydyr Forest in the heart of Snowdonia. Wilder than Sherwood, more open than the Black Forest—pine and spruce and a view of great Snowdon peak itself.”

  I had to swallow before I could speak again. “Snowdon?”

  “The highest mountain in Wales.”

  I stood and walked to the window to touch the tips of my fingers to the cold glass. It was real. We were in a house perched on the edge of a small, rocky lake. Trees swept away from it on all sides.

  “How did I get here?”

  I heard Goodfellow sigh. “I can’t believe Viviane left you so ignorant. Why would she do such a thing?”

  I had no answer.

  Goodfellow folded his arms across his massive chest. “How did you get here? How did I get you away from Taliesin and his people? It’s because of the Paths. I might not be able to defy the bard completely, but he knows I could tell my kin to make themselves scarce, if you know what I mean. I could make it quite difficult for him to traipse back and forth across the world with his army.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You know about the Wall?” I nodded. “Before the Wall, the Paths were used to travel through the world or to Avalon when the way was still open. The Paths were once part of the ancient forests covering the earth when the magic of creation still flickered among the trees. Those first forests were sentient and allowed creatures to pass through them, or not, at their pleasure. Thus, the Paths were born and I found them.”

  His voice twisted. “Eventually I found Cernunnos at the end of one of them. But all things must pass away and new forests were born which had no thought and did not grieve or rage when they were paved over for strip malls and condos. But the ghosts of those original forests remember and their Paths remain. Except for me and my kin, few can find them. Of all the earth magicians, Arthur had the best sense of them, except for . . .” The Green Man shook his head and walked away, leaving the sentence unfinished.