by Black, Tasha
Ainsley laughed and then Grace laughed too. It was easy to chat as they traversed the sidewalks of their youth past the Tudor style shops, no matter their current situation, some friends just felt like home.
The snow continued to fall, picking up in volume. By the time they had passed the green awning of the little real estate office and were heading toward the library, it was falling fast.
“It’s really coming down,” Grace said.
Something about the storm felt… wrong to Ainsley. The speed and volume of it were too much - it didn’t feel natural.
She looked around. There was no sign of life as far as she could see in the snowy air. They had been walking down the center of the street for the last few minutes and there hadn’t been a single car.
“Does something seem off about it to you?” Ainsley asked.
Grace nodded slowly, then stopped walking and closed her eyes.
“There’s something, some kind of magic in it,” she said, opening her eyes at last.
“Do you think it’s dangerous?” Ainsley asked.
“I’m not sure,” Grace said. “Abuela warned me that things could get strange around here with the portal open. There’s a lot of magic flowing. Her theory is that it’s going to attract some weird stuff - creatures no one has seen in hundreds of years, that sort of thing. Some might not be friendly. I was reading about—”
Ainsley grabbed Grace’s arm, cutting her off mid-sentence.
She had spotted something.
A figure moved jerkily toward them through the snow.
She sniffed the air, wondering how it could have escaped her most sensitive sense.
Nothing.
That wasn’t good.
Ainsley’s wolf surged with fury in her chest, and she felt her hand crackle with magical energy. She was ready to defend her friend, her world.
She felt Grace draw herself up.
The thing staggered closer and Ainsley realized it wasn’t a person. It had no face.
It lurched toward them, smoky tendrils flowing out from its silhouette in graceful arches. It seemed to be made of shadow.
With its next labored step, Ainsley saw the lights of the co-op grocery store shining through it.
All at once, all heat was sucked out of the air, leaving the street so cold even Ainsley was shivering.
Her wolf coiled itself, ready to pounce and a low, menacing growl came from her throat.
“Don’t,” Grace’s soft voice reached Ainsley’s ear through the snowy air.
“What the hell is that?” Ainsley hissed, trying to hold it together.
“It’s a shadow demon,” Grace replied. “Abuela said the Harkness clan has been having problems with them.”
“What’s a shadow demon?” Ainsley demanded angrily. She wasn’t angry with Grace, but her wolf was gnashing her teeth in anguish, enraged at the restraint Ainsley was imposing on her.
“They’re sort of like leeches,” Grace murmured. “They feed on magic, so they’re attracted to anything that gives it off.”
Shit.
“I’ve got some magic for it,” Ainsley said, raising a hand to blast the thing.
“Don’t,” Grace repeated. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. It will either pass right through it, or it will absorb the energy and get stronger.”
Grace had been inching away from Ainsley as she spoke.
“What are you doing?” Ainsley asked, trying not to be offended. Surely Grace knew by now that Ainsley would never hurt her, not even in wolf form.
“It wants to feed on our energy,” Grace said. “To do that, it will have to take a corporeal form. As soon as it turns solid, we’ll be able to hurt it. I think.”
“You think?”
“I’ve never seen one of these before,” Grace admitted, still moving slowly away. “I’m just going with my gut here.”
Ainsley studied her small, bundled companion.
Grace gazed back at Ainsley, her beautiful onyx eyes shining with determination.
“That’s good enough for me,” Ainsley said and turned back to face the shadow demon.
She and Grace were on opposite sides of the street now. And though she knew it was a strategic move, her wolf was not pleased at leaving her friend exposed.
She’s powerful, too, Ainsley tried to tell the alpha inside her.
It chuffed back at her irritably, unconvinced.
The thing was almost on them. The wait grew tense. Ainsley could scent Grace’s fear and anticipation as the demon closed the gap between the three of them. Twenty feet, fifteen, ten…
The creature stopped in the middle of the street and panned back and forth between the two women for a moment.
Suddenly it veered toward Ainsley.
She held her ground, though the wolf paced and moaned in her chest and the magic electrified her, as if she had put her finger in a socket.
“Grace?” she asked. She could still see through the thing, it was close enough now she was almost afraid of inhaling some of the smoke rolling from it.
“Wait for it,” Grace said tersely.
The cold sank into Ainsley’s bones and the desire to shift was nearly irresistible.
Shift, run…
Her skin began to tingle. The wolf was going to take over with or without her consent, to protect the baby.
Suddenly the light on the other side of the creature disappeared. The thing turned an inky black, and charged.
Ainsley closed her eyes to let the wolf take her, but before she could, a cry rent the air, distracting her.
“Hey ugly,” Grace was yelling at the top of her lungs.
The thing stopped in its tracks and turned slowly to face her.
Grace’s eyes flashed with victory and she raised her hands over her head.
Instantly the falling snowflakes froze in place, as if time itself had stopped.
The town Christmas lights reflected in each tiny frozen point.
It was the most beautiful thing Ainsley had ever seen.
Then Grace thrust her hands toward the shadow demon.
Pinpoints of light streaked toward it.
A high pitched keen came out of it as a thousand tiny icicles tore it to shreds so fast it seemed to hang in the air a moment before the pieces drifted to the snowy ground and vanished.
“Holy shit,” Ainsley breathed.
It was too easy to forget just how powerful her small friend was.
Grace let out a sigh of relief.
“That was amazing,” Ainsley said. “I’m glad it came after me.” She tried to think what she could have done to protect Grace if the situation had been in reverse. Her wolf would have charged, but the end result would never have been that elegant. The women would have sustained some damage finishing it off.
“It probably sensed how much power you had,” Grace said. “It knew it would get a good meal.”
“Maybe,” Ainsley allowed.
Or it had known better than to mess with Grace.
Maybe Ainsley had been worried about the wrong friend going solo.
Maybe she should be wondering if she was really strong enough to protect the town without Grace…
Chapter 9
For the first time, Grace did not completely enjoy the great big Cortez Christmas.
The scent of cinnamon was rich in the air, and the house was filled with music and laughter. Her mom always brought in strays for the occasion - usually one or two of the older folks around town whose kids and grandkids wouldn’t be coming in for the holidays, and a passel of college students who couldn’t afford airfare for the winter break. This year was no different.
While the rest of the family and guests lingered over gifts and the fragrant baked goods her mother continually pulled from the oven, Grace found herself pacing by the window overlooking the front porch and the street lights of Harvard Avenue beyond, fighting the desire to slip the pendant out from under her sweater to see which way it was pulling.
“Bad break up?” a
voice asked from right behind her.
Grace turned to find Annabel Foster, an elderly neighbor, with a sympathetic look on her wrinkled features gazing at her.
“Something like that,” Grace shrugged, deciding to leave out the detail that her boyfriend had been eaten by a demon.
“You’ll move on,” Annabel said, nodding sagely. “Get out there and date again, the sooner the better. There are more fish in the sea.”
“I don’t know,” Grace said, suppressing a shudder at the thought of Julian floating behind the barrier in her dream. “I think I need a little time out.”
Annabel leaned in conspiratorially.
“If you ask me,” she whispered, “I think you need to get laid.”
Grace blinked back at the woman in utter shock.
“Ha,” Annabel cackled. “Kids like you think women my age don’t know what sex is. But we invented it, and I’m here to tell you it’s the cure to heartbreak.”
Before Grace could think of how to respond, her grandmother arrived to save the day.
“Annabel,” Abuela said smoothly. “Have you tried the cinnamon mini-scones?”
“Scones?” Annabel asked.
“Eva just grabbed them out of the oven,” Gloria told her. “But if you want one you’d better dash. They’re good this year. Plate’s gonna empty in no time.”
“Remember what I said,” Annabel said, patting Grace’s arm firmly on her way to the kitchen.
“Er, yes,” Grace said, thinking that she would be unlikely to forget the conversation no matter how hard she tried.
“Is Cressida feeling as restless as you are?” Abuela asked.
Grace thought about the terse texting she’d been doing with Cress regarding their plans to get back on the road.
“Yeah, I think she is,” she said.
“Then go,” Abuela said simply. “Go now. Your mom will understand. You’ve got the info you needed. You made your appearance for the holidays. Get out of here and chase that thing down.”
Relief flooded Grace’s body.
“You’ll cover for me?” she asked.
“Yes,” Abuela said. “I’ll let her know you were given a special assignment.”
Grace’s parents didn’t know about the magic, the wolves, the moroi - any of it. She’d had to tell them that advanced police coursework out of state was the reason for her leave of absence.
Grace hated the lies. Her mother had always told her that truth had to be foremost in any relationship. And her mother was right, of course. The deeper Grace got into the paranormal, the more removed she felt from her parents.
“Don’t worry about your mom and dad,” Abuela said again, as if following her train of thought. “They’ll always love you. And you’ll find a way to tell them enough of the truth to satisfy your conscience. But that will come later. Right now just put it aside and let the magic flow, honey. You know how this works.”
Grace pulled her abuela quickly into the biggest bear hug her small body was capable of giving, soaking in her cinnamon scent and the feeling of safety she felt in the older woman’s embrace. Then she dashed out the door, slipping her phone out of her pocket as she ran to the car.
Unsurprisingly, Cressida responded to her text instantly.
Twenty minutes later their bags were thrown in the back of the Honda again and they were merging onto I-95.
Chapter 10
As swiftly as Grace and Cressida made their exit, the days and weeks that followed were long and boring.
Grace hung the shard on its chain on the rear view mirror. They watched its motions, but it was an inconsistent guide at best.
They would follow it as best they could, only to have it go dead for days at a time. Then, without warning, it would start up again, but leading them in a completely different direction.
“Jesus Christ,” Cressida exclaimed the first time the shard swung firmly in the opposite direction they had been headed after ten days of hot pursuit.
“It’s not a GPS,” Grace said. “Besides, the moroi is moving too.”
Cressida had sighed and flopped back in her seat, tapping her feet on the dashboard in front of her.
Grace had long ago given up the battle to keep Cressida’s boots off the upholstery. She appreciated that the young woman was a study in constant motion, and the movement of the car wasn’t enough for her.
But the long winter days were getting to Grace, too. Cressida was always hot, so Grace could only sneak the heat on for a few minutes at a time when the wolf was napping. Otherwise, she bore the drafts of cool air through the window. They didn’t share taste in radio stations so they took turns, meaning one was always miserable. After careful consideration, Grace decided that Cressida’s musical taste consisted entirely of thirty-second snippets and the desire to learn what else was on. Cressida also despised planned meal and bathroom breaks, whereas Grace worked best on a schedule.
It might have been unbearable, but they were in complete agreement on the most important thing. No matter the agony of the chase, they had to catch the moroi.
So they drove on and on.
First they headed south, down into Delaware, through endless miles of flat green, and into Maryland.
Though they admired the shining water of the Chesapeake Bay, Cressida grew uncomfortable as they traversed ever widening bridges and tunnels on their way into Virginia.
No sooner did they cross into the true south than the crystal changed directions, taking them back toward Pennsylvania, and then west, and east and north again.
And so January eased into February.
And February melted into March.
By the time the sparrows and warblers began to migrate north again, Grace was worn down.
They had been eating fast food and convenience store fare for too long - sleeping in the car, or in one cheap motel after another.
Growing up in the sprawling Cortez home, Grace had never even shared a bedroom, let alone lived in such close quarters with anyone.
The whole ordeal made her feel like that last Harry Potter book with the endless unpleasant camping and looking and waiting.
At least they had fallen into a routine that could be followed with little banter.
On the days when the crystal was active, she and Cressida would cover as much ground as possible. Then they would lay low for a time - a day, even a week sometimes - while it seemed to recharge, or make up its mind, or whatever it did during those frustrating times of stillness.
It was slow going, but at least Grace felt like she was doing something.
But the ides of March found them stuck in a campground in New Jersey, where the crystal had hung stubbornly still for nearly three weeks. Grace would stroke it frequently but it seemed to have lost even the warm hum it usually gave off whenever she touched it. It seemed completely dead and the thought of it was making Grace despondent.
One morning, Cressida stripped, shifted and darted into the woods to down a rabbit for their midday meal. Anything was better than another protein bar.
A few minutes after she disappeared, Grace fingered the crystal once more.
Instantly it shivered and hummed.
In disbelief, Grace gave it a slight tug and let go.
The shard practically leapt out of her hand and began to swing strongly and clearly.
Grace jumped out of the car.
“Cressida,” she cried into the trees, afraid it might be hours before her furry friend returned.
But a moment later, something big came crashing through the thicket. There was a flash of silver fur and then Cressida’s naked form was in front of her, panting and gazing at Grace with sparkling eyes.
“Want to go for a ride?” Grace winked.
“Yesssss,” Cressida yelled, swinging their gear into the backseat and pulling on her clothes as Grace started the engine.
Grace drove like a bat out of hell, the shard swinging merrily on the rearview mirror, urging them on.
She hoped desperately that it was
a good lead. The energy in the pendant indicated that it could be, but she tempered her enthusiasm.
Mostly she was just glad to be doing something again.
The fields streaked by, tender greens beginning to shoot up here and there among the gray wintry landscape.
Cressida opened the window, blasting Grace with cool spring air.
Grace laughed as she watched her friend stick her head out the window - blonde hair flapping like she was a retriever and the expression on her face only reinforcing that image.
“Salt water,” Cressida said excitedly as she pulled her head back in.
The thing was leading them to the ocean.
Panic nearly cut off Grace’s breath.
What if it took them right to the beach and still pointed to the water?
Suddenly she was plunged back under the black water in Tarker’s Hollow, Ainsley’s strong hands wrapped around her clothing, yanking her bodily to the surface as her soul strained back down, down toward Julian.
She tightened her hands on the steering wheel, forced herself to take a breath, to think of something else.
And the first thing to pop into her mind was the wall of water in her dream.
“You okay?” Cressida asked, a WTF look on her face.
“Yeah,” Grace shrugged, “I’m fine. I guess I just forgot how to do this.”
Cressida laughed and Grace shook herself to get rid of the phantom sensation of water on her skin.
Road signs began to pop up, advertising their proximity to someplace called Fletcher’s Cove.
Soon the scraggly pines gave way to massive Victorian and Four Square houses, their cedar shake shingles silvery from the wind and salty air, porches stacked atop each other like tiered wedding cakes.
An old-fashioned, full-serve gas station appeared to be open, but most of the storefronts in the little town were dark.
There were no other cars on the streets.
Grace reminded herself that it was the off season, and tried to shake the feeling that there were eyes studying them from some of those darkened windows.
She was suddenly grateful she’d never upgraded her old Civic. The desire to remain inconspicuous pulled at her.
