“We? We who?” She looked at Diana, who shook her head.
“Me and the other Sam,” he said.
Mara glanced at Ping, who said, “The interaction doesn’t appear to be doing any harm to the boys, so I see no reason not to. If Sam’s counterpart can sense his sister, it might be helpful to locate her as quickly as possible, especially if there’s a chance that Ginger might become disoriented inside the Arboretum. The more help we have, the greater our odds of success.”
“That makes sense, but let’s find out about Sam’s confusion before we commit to anything,” Mara said.
Diana stood from her seat next to the fire and retrieved her backpack. Returning to her place, she pulled out several items of clothing and a water bottle, then extracted the luminaire, which continued to emit a bright green light. She held it out to Sam, but he shook his head and indicated that she should keep it.
He stared into the glowing bulb, his eyes narrowing, and the reflected dancing orange light of the campfire in his eyes receded, replaced by the emerald glow of his counterpart’s presence. A smile dimpled his cheek as his gaze focused on Diana.
In the creepy echoing voices, the Sams said, “Hi, Mom.”
“Hey there, sweetie. How are you doing?” She returned his smile.
“Good. We are closer to Mara now. I sense her more strongly, but it’s also more—no—less precise than it was before.”
Ping interjected, “Less precise. What do you mean by that?”
Sam frowned, his narrowing lids dimming the light coming from his eyes. “I’m not sure how to describe it. Before, when we were at home, I could feel where Mara was, the precise location. Now the feeling is more intense, like when a magnet’s pull gets stronger as you get closer, but, even as the draw intensifies, I’m less certain about where she is.”
“Describe this uncertainty you feel. What do you think is causing it?” Ping asked.
“It’s like I’m now looking into a hall of mirrors. I see Mara standing inside but also many reflections of her. I can tell you where the hall of mirrors is located, but I’m having trouble discerning Mara from the reflections. Does that make sense?”
“Perhaps it does,” Ping said.
“How about you make sense of it for the rest of us,” Mara said.
He held up a finger and turned back to Sam. “When we were at home, did you sense Mara—meaning the Mara here with us now—as distinct and different from your sister?”
“She has the same vibe, but I didn’t confuse her with my Mara, if that’s what you mean,” Sam said, still echoing.
“Could it be that, as the two Maras get closer together, they are becoming harder for you to distinguish?” Ping asked.
Sam’s expression relaxed. “That could be it. I’m definitely feeling more than one presence that feels like Mara. I just thought I was getting a garbled signal or something.”
“How could getting closer to the other Mara cause his confusion?” Mara asked.
“We know from our experiences that counterparts from different realms have opposing polarities that can be quite combustible when they come in contact. It’s not unreasonable to assume those effects might manifest themselves to those around us as the counterparts get closer to each other. Given the ethereal nature of Sam’s existence and the manner through which he intuits you and his sister, it would be logical that he might pick up on those polarities, and it might jumble his Perceptions.”
“Great. We have a pig that gets confused by doors and walls, and a ghost that can’t tell his sisters apart,” Mara said. “Let’s just hope the Arboretum isn’t some kind of maze.”
“Ginger doesn’t like being called a pig,” the Sams said.
A snort punctuated the remark from the darkness beyond the campfire.
“Sorry, baby.” Mara patted her leg, calling over the chobodon for a scratch behind the ear.
As the creature snuggled up and lay its jaw on her knee, Mara felt her tense up and growl. The sounds of engines rumbled in the distance.
“It sounds like our friends are back,” Ping said. “I would suggest we do nothing this time and let them approach us, assuming they don’t stay on the main trail.”
For about five minutes, the sounds grew closer and louder. Then they stopped.
Sam leaned toward the campfire to be closer to the others and whispered, “That doesn’t sound like they are passing us by. They must have seen the fire. I thought you said that so-called spell of yours popped them back to the beginning of the trail. If so, why would they approach us again?”
“They might not have realized it was an automatic thing triggered by their approach. It could take a couple trips for them to learn to leave us alone,” Mara said. “While we wait for them, explain how you sense your sister when you are in the luminaire. How does that work?”
“When I’m disembodied, it’s like I can be in more than one place at a time—no, that’s not right. It’s more like the place where I am is larger, more expansive. I can sense more of the world without being constrained by a body. Having a body is like being in a small room. The range of your senses only goes as far as the walls. Being disembodied is like being outdoors, standing on a plain in Kansas. You can see and hear and feel forever,” Sam said, his glowing eyes looking into the distance.
“You’re describing omnipresence, the feeling of being everywhere at once,” Ping said.
Sam nodded. “That’s it, but some things draw your attention more than others.”
“Like your sister,” Diana said.
He nodded.
“Can you sense if she is all right?” she asked.
“I sense calmness and anger at the same time,” Sam said. “Part of her is serene while the other part seems—I don’t know—hateful and vengeful. It’s all jumbled up and confusing.”
“Nash did say they were keeping Mara sedated. That may be the serenity you are picking up. Perhaps she’s aware of what’s happening, frustrated at not being able to fight back. Or maybe you’re picking up the feelings of our Mara here,” Ping said.
Mara frowned. “I’m determined to get Mara back, but I wouldn’t say I’m feeling particularly angry. Maybe our other Mara’s having a bad dream or the like.”
Something snapped beyond the light of the campfire. Mara peered into the darkness and thought she detected movement, but she couldn’t be sure. She suppressed the urge to say something, to let the acolytes know they weren’t fooling anyone.
“If you value your counterpart’s life, do not approach the Arboretum,” a baritone voice intoned from somewhere in the darkness of the night. “So says Curate Tran.”
A shiver ran down Mara’s spine. The voice was almost identical to Juaquin Prado’s, the man who had crossed over to her realm during the jetliner crash, whose spirit had infected dozens of people and eventually had become the Aphotis. The timbre was familiar, but the source was not. A robed figure so tall and lanky that he could have been a professional basketball player stepped into the edge of the light, looking like the grim reaper. Two other shorter reapers stood behind him.
“Let her go, and we will leave the swamp,” Mara said.
“I am just a messenger. It is not my place to negotiate on behalf of our leader,” he said.
“Then take this message to Tran. We are not leaving without Mara,” Mara said.
“Until the Aphotis is unbound, the destroyer of the faith will never be free. So says Curate Tran. Leave now. This is your last warning,” said the robed man, raising his cupped hand, threatening to hurl a spinning orange ball.
“Here we go again with the fireworks,” Mara said. “Hold on a minute. There’s no point in—”
Winding up to pitch the orb, he stepped forward. And disappeared. So did the other acolytes.
“Finally,” Mara said. “I need to be more specific so these spells don’t take so long to kick in.”
“How come the acolytes coming from town are carrying a message from Tran? Isn’t she at the Arboretum?” Sam asked.
“They must have some form of communication,” Ping said. “They probably reported their first encounter with us, and she ordered them to scare us off.”
“He called Mara the destroyer of the faith,” Mara said. “They do think she bound the Aphotis in the luminaire that I placed at the funeral home.”
“We assumed that when they took her. Right?” Ping asked.
“Yes. But something feels off-kilter about the whole thing.” She stared into the fire for a moment, going over the short conversation with the acolyte.
That’s it.
Ping noticed her eyes widened. “What is it?”
“He called her my counterpart. He knew there were two of us.”
“Your point being?”
“It wasn’t common knowledge among the acolytes because Nash was surprised to see me. Remember? Also, if the guy who showed up tonight knew there were two of us, why would he assume the one they kidnapped is the one who bound the Aphotis to the steam?” Mara asked.
“Perhaps he was just repeating what he was told without any understanding of it. So says Curate Tran,” Ping said. “We know she is aware of your presence in this realm, since she encountered us at Andrea’s home after they took the other Mara.”
“Why would she assume the Mara from this realm bound the Aphotis when she knows I’m around? Wouldn’t it make more sense to suspect me?”
“They kidnapped Mara before you came,” Diana said.
“They kidnapped her before my last visit here. If Tran knew I was here before, why would she blame your Mara? Wouldn’t the one who came from a distant realm make a better suspect?” Mara asked.
“Tran does have some awareness beyond what she should have. After all, she called Sam a prompter during our last encounter,” Ping said. “It makes no sense.”
“We’ll have to ask her when we get there,” Mara said.
“And we should not underestimate her,” Ping said.
“Definitely. Now, back to what we were discussing before we were interrupted,” she said, turning to Sam and his glowing eyes. “What advantage is there in allowing you to stay inside my brother’s body for the next couple days?”
“Allowing? Who died and made you queen for a day?” asked Sam in his stereo voice. “I wasn’t aware I needed your permission to loan out my body to whomever I like. Sam’s staying. He’ll focus more on his Mara without the disruption of going back and forth between my body and the luminaire.”
A flash of anger passed over her features, but she suppressed the urge to argue. “You understand that you have to vacate Sam’s body when this is over—after we get your sister back?”
“I understand.” He spoke with only one voice.
“I can force you out if you don’t keep your word. I’ve done it before,” she said.
Diana touched her arm. “He’ll keep his word.”
Sam nodded and said, “Your Sam remembers you forcing the spirit of his mother from the body of your mother on the bridge in Oregon City. I will leave when the time comes.”
Mara eyed her brother for a moment, then the suspicious look melted from her face.
Ping clapped his hands together in an obvious move to change the subject. “Well, Mara and I need to go over one last section of Elements of Magic this evening. Would the two of you like to turn in early while we take the first shift of guard duty, or would you like to stick around and watch?”
“I vote for watching,” Sam said, his two voices now back to echoing.
Diana smiled. “What is the subject of the lesson?”
“Creating autonomous beings out of the elements of Perception,” Ping said. “Creatures like the bowraiths.”
“Are you going to create a bowraith?” Sam asked.
“I haven’t given it much thought,” Mara said. “To be honest, I’m not that thrilled at the idea of conjuring strange creatures that exist only to do what I want. It feels wrong, like bringing someone to life just to be your slave.”
“Autonomous beings don’t have a will of their own, and they don’t have to be humanlike in their physiology, even though those are the examples we have encountered,” Ping said.
“Still, it gives me the heebies to think about it.”
“Just because you can do something doesn’t necessarily mean you should,” Diana said. She turned to Ping. “What’s the point if she’s uncomfortable with the concept? Why go forward with that particular lesson?”
“I agree that Mara may never need to tap into this particular ability, but she’s facing an adversary who has no qualms about conjuring these creatures. It would be prudent for Mara to have the option, should the need arise,” Ping said.
“Make your autonomous creature some kind of animal instead of a person,” Sam said. “Maybe something small and harmless, like a mouse or a bug.”
“What do I do?” Mara asked Ping.
“You conjure the creature with a spell. You generally have to describe the type of being you wish to create, the substance from which it is made, and the purpose for which you are calling it forth.”
“That’s a lot to cram into seventeen syllables,” she said.
“Seventeen syllables?” Diana asked.
“Mara’s incantations come in the form of haikus. That’s how she organizes the conditions she places on the spells she casts,” Ping said.
“You guys shush for a minute. I’m composing something here.” She stared into the campfire and tried to focus.
“Does she always order people around like that?” Sam asked no one in particular, in a singular voice.
“Yes,” he answered his own question. “She thinks she’s the boss.”
Irritated, Mara glared at her brother. “If the two of you want to carry on a conversation, go for a walk or something. I’m learning how to conjure something here.”
“You always make these things more complicated than they need to be by stressing out over them. You’re not the friggin’ Robert Frost of haiku incantations. Just blurt out what you want to happen,” Sam prompted, his voice now in stereo.
Ping made a tsk-tsk sound and shook his head. “You know she doesn’t like it when you do that.”
“Just helping her get to the point,” he said.
“What? What did you do?” Diana asked.
“He prompted his sister to use her abilities,” Ping said and nodded toward Mara.
Her gaze shifted back to the fire, and flames danced in her eyes. Expressionless, she said in a monotone:
From ashes and fire,
Our enemies to hinder,
Come flies of cinder.
From the charred edge of one of the logs in the fire, a piece of burned bark—ashen on one side and glowing ember-like on the other—caught a thermal wave and rode a lick of flame into the air. Instead of dancing aimlessly into the dark, the crusty bit of ash folded in half, then unfolded, flapping against the thin tendrils of smoke that rose from the campfire. It fluttered and bobbed in a circle above the fire, like a butterfly seeking its next taste of nectar.
Soon a second, then a third, followed by a dozen bits of ember light broke away from the fire, weaving into a loose orbit above their heads.
“They look like large orange fireflies,” Diana said, peering upward, trying to get a better look.
“Cinderflies,” Mara said. “They are called cinderflies.” She held out a finger, and one alit on her knuckle. It had broad flat wings of blackened cracked ash, the seams of which glowed yellow-orange more brightly as the wings slowly opened and closed. The insect spit a tiny flame, little more than a spark.
“Sort of like miniature fire-breathing dragons,” Sam said. “Cool.”
Heat seared pinprick-like into Mara’s skin, and she waved away the creature. Rubbing her hand against the leg of her jeans, she looked up in awe as hundreds of the brilliant insects glittered above them swarm-like, appearing as incandescent leaves caught in a whirlwind.
CHAPTER 25
Walking alongside Sam, Ping watched Mara and
Diana on the trail ahead, talking and gesticulating as if swapping war stories. It was the first time since they began the hike that mother and daughter had spent much time together. At first, he had assumed they had fallen into their reconfigured teams because he and Mara had completed the main concepts in Elements of Magic. However, Mara had been giving her brother the silent treatment all morning, refusing to talk to or acknowledge him. Ping wondered if that’s why they’d switched hiking partners.
“Mr. Ping? May I ask you a question?” Sam said.
For a second, Ping frowned at the boy as they walked, and then his expression morphed into something more like a smile. “Would I be correct in assuming that I’m speaking to the Sam from this realm and not the one who arrived here with me?”
“How did you know?” Sam asked.
“Sam doesn’t call me Mr. Ping, and neither should you. Just Ping will do. Also, you are speaking with one voice,” Ping said. “And, yes, you may ask me anything.”
“Why is Mara upset at Sam? He seems to think it had something to do with him prompting her to conjure the cinderflies last night. Would she have preferred to conjure something different?” he asked.
“Mara is perturbed that he prompted her at all, not about what creature she conjured. She has asked her brother on several occasions not to do that,” Ping said.
“But he was only trying to help.”
“I understand. However, Mara finds it intrusive when he prompts her to use her abilities before she is ready. She would rather do things at her own speed, particularly when it’s something she hasn’t done before,” he said. “By the way, why can’t I hear the other Sam at the moment.”
“He’s asleep.”
“Really? He wasn’t concerned that Mara was upset?” Ping asked.
“Not particularly. He thinks she’ll forgive him and talk to him when she’s ready. I just didn’t understand why she was upset in the first place. After all, she has forced him to use his abilities before—if I’m interpreting Sam’s memories correctly.”
Broken Spells Page 16
