Before the Storm

by Claire Ashgrove

  I braved his earnest gaze. He held mine silently. Unable to deny myself what I most wanted, I leaned forward. Our breaths mingled.

  Kale sucked in a sharp gasp and turned his head, his grimace contorting his handsome features. He clenched his temples again, fighting back obvious pain.

  Intimacy shattered. Overwhelming concern drew me to push the hair off his forehead. “What’s the matter, Kale? Are you sick? What can I do?”

  He eased out of my grasp with a slow shake of his head. “I’ll be fine. It’s just a headache.”

  No, no it wasn’t. He’d failed his spells. Faltered during the fight more than once. Had he taken a blow to the head before he and Marcus joined me in the glade? Worried, I frowned at him. “You weren’t yourself with the demon.”

  He shook his head again but didn’t look at me. “I’ve been fighting a migraine all day. It distracted me.”

  My gaze narrowed more as suspicion reared its dark head. “Swear it.”

  With an uneasy chuckle, he shot me a puzzled look. “Swear that I have a headache? You doubt me that much? Come on, is this really necessary?”

  The way he deflected only made my internal alarms ring louder. He was doing it again—keeping something from me that I innately knew was far more serious than he let on. “You’re lying. Again.”

  “Halle, really, I—”

  “No. Save it. I’m done listening. I’ve had enough of your half-truths and omissions. If you can’t be honest with me, there’s no point in this. Clearly you can’t.”

  “Halle, wait. You’re over-reacting. I have a headache.”

  I shot to my feet as fury swept over me. “You’re still doing it. God damn it, Kale! Just…just…get away from me. Don’t speak to me anymore. I can’t do this. I won’t! You’ve made it clear I can’t trust you at all.” I jumped down from the rock and stalked to my satchel, more out of need to move than a need to retrieve anything from it.

  As I wrapped my hand around the knotted end, Marcus crashed into the clearing at full speed.

  “Run!” he bellowed, slowing only long enough to retrieve his pack from where he’d left it by the rock. “Move, now! This way!” He tore off toward the opposite side of the meadow.

  Before I could issue the order to my feet, a thick black cloud of bats swept in. They tangled in my hair, flapped in my face. I swatted them away and stumbled forward. But the stinging in my arm explained Marcus’s adamant order. The bats were out for blood.

  Thirty-two

  Kale grabbed my hand and ran. Between swatting off tiny claws and teeth and our breakneck speed, it was all I could do to remain upright. Each time I stumbled, he helped me up. Each time I tripped, he caught my fall. But the bats took their toll on him as well. By the time we sighted Marcus standing at a cave entrance, blood coursed freely down Kale’s face.

  Marcus brandished a flaming torch in one hand while waving us inside with the other. We ducked under the overhanging rock, panting. Marcus swung at the flock following us. High-pitched squeals filled the air.

  “Grab another!” He motioned at three thick tree branches swathed in cloth against the wall behind him.

  Forcing my exhausted body to cooperate, I grabbed one and hauled it to him. After the exertion I’d put myself through, the normally manageable weight pulled on my shoulders. My arms began to tremble again, and the flame he lit on the end wavered precariously.

  Kale tugged the torch out of my hands. “I’ll get it. You rest.”

  With a grateful nod, I sank to my feet. But guilt quickly sucked me under. They beat off the horde, sending little flaming balls of fur flying through the air, but the bats kept coming. We needed a gate of some type.

  Marcus evidently came to the same conclusion. He passed his torch to Kale. “Hold them off,” he barked.

  When Kale accepted, Marcus stepped back to me, bowed his head, and slowly brought his palms up from his side, face down. The rock around us shifted and groaned. From the ground in front of us, small peaks of rock emerged. The higher he lifted his hands, the more the rock grew. Inch by inch, a wall began to form.

  Sweat slickened his brow, strong veins popped to life as he concentrated and brought his hands into his body. The rock opening drew inward, narrowing, narrowing, narrowing…until the exit shrank to a waist-high hole large enough to crawl through. With a final murmur, he dropped his hands and drew a deep breath.

  Their years of friendship showed as Kale passed a hand over the opening without a word of instruction. Iridescent green-blue flames filled the gap. He dropped to sit on the earthen floor and let out a bone-deep sigh. God, he looked tired. More so than even the day he showed up at my room after the fight with the banshee. Once more I found myself wondering what plagued him. But I’d already discovered asking would get me nowhere.

  “I hate bats,” Marcus muttered as he joined us on the ground. “We’ll wait here till sunrise. They’ll either burn off or give up by then.”

  Emphasizing his statement, the fire snapped as another bat tried to fly through what remained of the entrance.

  I studied the new wall, curiously. I was beginning to witness differences in magic. What Kale cast held a very faint silver color around the perimeter. Thin like a fishing line and indiscernible at a glance. The wall Marcus crafted, however, didn’t have that sort of demarcation. More, though, I’d begun to witness a pattern, and I felt like I was on the edge of understanding something significant. Marcus…everything he did seemed somehow…alive. The branches in the glade. The fire he wielded so easily—so very different than the blue flames Kale had crafted. Shifting the stone…

  I glanced between them, uncertain how to phrase my question. I gave it my best shot. “How come Marcus’s magic seems to relate to nature, and Kale’s and mine are similar…yet not?”

  “Because they are,” Marcus answered.

  My brows furrowed. Say again?

  “The Noita are part of the wilderness,” Kale answered quietly. “He couldn’t begin to craft an unnatural flame.” He pointed at the transformed rock. “The stone isn’t magical. He merely shifted it to the shape he desired.”

  Comprehending, I gave a slow nod. “And you and I?”

  Marcus answered for Kale. “Yours is different than everyone’s. It acts differently, it’s called differently, it exists differently. And your limits are very few. It depends on the dragon lineage you descend from.”

  “And how do I discover that?”

  He chuckled. “Only the strongest sorcerers can identify it.”

  “Oh.” So much for clear and concise. I’d add that to the list of things I’d likely never discover. “And Kale’s?”

  “Mostly elemental in design. Evocations, illusions, and an occasional simple nature bond as well.”

  Mostly. Did that explain why he could do what he did to the shadow? Make it self-implode? But Kale didn’t look like he wanted to discuss his abilities. His expression held a far-away appearance, and he seemed miles from our conversation.

  Concern got the better of me. “Kale?”

  He startled then turned a questioning gaze on me. “What?”

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  He nodded. “Exhausted.”

  “Yeah, me too.” Feeling totally safe for the first time in days, I stretched my arms above my head and yielded to a wide yawn.

  “Let’s get some rest,” Marcus suggested, moving to his feet once more. He pulled two blankets out of his pack and threw one at me. “You need it especially. Magic takes a toll on the body, especially when it’s new.”

  “Tell me about it,” I muttered as I spread the blanket out.

  “Kale, could you…” Marcus gestured at the floor. “There’s nothing here I can light.”

  Nodding, Kale lumbered upright, gathered a few larger rocks, and fashioned them in a circle. With a barely audible murmur, he created another fire in the center, more yellow-orange in hue than the barricade across the exit. If I hadn’t been too
wiped-out to talk, I’d have asked about the difference. But another yawn possessed me, and as the crackling light danced across the high rock ceiling, I closed my eyes.

  * * *

  Restless dreams finally roused me sometime in the middle of the night. I inched upright, giving up on sleep, to find Marcus seated near the fire. A quick glance around the tiny cavern showed me Kale slept near the entrance. He shifted a leg in slumber and mumbled something unintelligible.

  “Can’t sleep either?” Marcus asked quietly.

  Though his voice was low, it startled me, and I jumped like a firecracker had gone off behind me. He chuckled softly then stabbed a long stick into the fire. When the end caught, he held it up to the ceiling, slowly rotating it as it burned.

  “It’s these woods. We’re right at the Yaksini border. Evil is everywhere, even in your dreams.”

  “We’re there already?” I tossed back the blanket someone had thrown over me—presumably Marcus as Kale slept in his—and dusted off my pants before tip-toeing over to the fire. I took a seat beside Marcus. The air held a chill, and I stretched my hands toward the flames to warm them.

  “You can see the entrance over the ridge. Something’s going on in there—it was active as hell earlier today.”

  Joy. Just what we needed, more complications. I’d had enough of fighting, running for my life, and blood-thirsty abominations. But I hadn’t started this expecting it to be easy. Hoping for simplicity now was pretty pointless.

  “Kale and I laid out a plan.”

  Immediately defensive, I eyed him sharply. A hard edge crept into my voice. “Without me?”

  He shot me a perturbed look. “You were sleeping.”

  I grunted.

  “He said he’d drawn it out for you. Do you remember it?”

  “Yeah. It’s in my pillow case.”

  “Good. Keep it handy in case we get separated. It’s best if we leave shortly, right after dawn. We need to go in when the liches escort your uncle out. You’ll want to travel light. Leave what you can here. Weapons are useless against most of what we’re likely to run into. Anything we have on us, at least.”

  “I noticed.” I couldn’t help but chuckle as I thought back to the way the dagger had sliced through the shadow.

  He turned a hard stare on me. “Are you sure you want to try and capture your mother? Neither one of us would think less of you if you changed your mind.”

  I gulped hard. It wasn’t like I hadn’t considered maybe I’d gotten in over my head, that maybe Kale was right and I wouldn’t survive this journey. But if there was even a slim chance to somehow help her, all the demons in hell couldn’t stop me.

  “Is it futile? Really? Do I have any chance of saving her? Kale said it was. But he also said…” I couldn’t bring myself to finish; pain stabbed between my ribs at the mere thought.

  Marcus looked back to the fire and poked it once again with his stick. “There’s a difference between a lie and omission, Halle. Both are deliberate, but one is done selfishly. The other is founded with the intent to protect.”

  Kale had said as much. Hearing it now made me question whether I’d reacted too harshly. Maybe whatever he was still keeping from me was another attempt at safeguarding me. I didn’t like the possibility, but it made me think.

  Marcus tossed his stick into the flames. The resulting snap and crackle filled the silence. After several drawn-out seconds, he finally answered, “He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t believe in you. So no, your intentions aren’t impossible. It’s just the chances…” He trailed off with a shake of his head. “There are only a few sorcerers in the world who can undo what she’s suffered. She may never be the woman you remember.”

  “But she’d be free, right?”

  “You have a point.”

  I studied his profile, the lines of concentration in his face, the angular line of his strong jaw. There was a ruggedness about him Kale didn’t possess. Signs of a life fraught with difficult choices and hardship I could only guess at. He rarely showed the passion Kale did, and I suspected Marcus did very little on impulse. Even if he didn’t realize it consciously, he calculated every move. Where Kale was more of a commander of men, Marcus better fit the role of guerilla fighter. So very different.

  And yet, so very similar. Both strong, wise, capable leaders. Both willing to dedicate themselves to whatever they committed to, even if the cause wasn’t their own. They believed in me. In their own way, they both supported me, though Marcus freely admitted he had his own motivations for doing so.

  “What is it you need from the mines, Marcus?”

  He glanced heavenward, something I couldn’t name reflecting in his dark eyes. “A stone. A tiny onyx shard deep in the belly of the earth.”

  “What’s it do?”

  “Nothing,” he answered with a bitter chuckle. “It doesn’t do a damned thing. But I made a vow to retrieve the shard. Until I do, it holds me in chains.” He pushed away from the fire and stood. “You best wake Kale. We should be moving out now.”

  Just like that, he closed the subject.

  Thirty-three

  We stopped on a high ridge ten feet above the mine entrance and twenty away. With the brass handcuffs hooked onto my belt loop and Kale’s map stuffed inside my back pocket, I lay belly-down behind a thick line of bushes, staring at the activity below. Seven men gathered outside a pair of spiked, iron gates that looked more like they belonged in a Medieval bailey. I recognized the navy attire as the uniforms my uncle’s security attaché wore, but instead of the pistols those men wore at their hips, these men had long swords strapped to their backs. Those blades caught my attention more than the torches that blazed on both sides of the entrance, the clank of something metal I couldn’t see, or the totally modern black SUV parked outside.

  Kale was closer, so I nudged him in the ribs. “What’s with the weapons?” I whispered.

  “Magic can’t be fought with bullets. Outside, in the normal world, they’re perfectly fine. Here, they’re useless.”

  His answer perplexed me. As certainly as I bled, if someone shot me, I’d die here as easily as I would in Applegate. And I’d seen firsthand what hand weapons could do to magical beings—relatively nothing. Though, I guess Kale had damaged the demon with his dagger. In any case, it was the wrong time for the discussion, and I’d have to wait for more answers.

  Marcus subtly pointed in front of us. I looked back to the entrance to find the men parting, four on one side, three forming a perpendicular line toward the SUV. A figure emerged from the dark recesses. Tall and distinguished with his silver hair and immaculate navy blue suit, my uncle stepped into the torchlight.

  Revulsion twisted my stomach into a knot. Faye’s cries, the blood on her swollen lip, the way she’d plead for him to be reasonable all surfaced in my memory. That anyone could follow him, that the citizens of Applegate actually elected him mayor, blew my mind. He was a fake, a bully, a man fixated on power.

  And now I knew he was evil. Not the kind I’d imagined, but the kind that seeped into the earth and tainted everything it touched. The kind that fed off innocent souls.

  I had never wanted to kill someone more. Not even my father.

  I must have tensed, because Kale set a hand on my forearm and squeezed in reassurance. That simple touch did more for me than offer grounding. It quieted my rage. But even more, it reminded me of the bonds we shared. He was still part of me, and I part of him. We weren’t entirely broken.

  The SUV roared to life. The three closest to it piled inside after my uncle ducked into the passenger’s seat. The remaining four jogged down the path out of sight.

  “Where are they going?” I asked

  “To take him to the perimeter. On the count of five, run with all you have,” Marcus instructed, lifting into a crouch. “Kale, how’s the head?”

  “I’ll be fine,” Kale ground out tightly.

  So Marcus had noticed too. At least I wasn’t the only on
e concerned. I crouched as well and listened as Marcus counted us off in a low, confident voice.

  When he hit five, we vaulted over the short hedgerow and half-ran, half-skid down a winding gravel path. Marcus made it down unscathed. I conked my ankle on a protruding rock, and Kale got hung up in a tree-root, tripped, and rolled the last three feet. He wobbled to his feet, ignoring both Marcus and my looks of concern.

  But he didn’t limp as we booked it to the imposing iron gates. Thankfully.

  Inside the dark cavern, the metallic clanking noise echoed formidably. Whispered voices met my ears like voices from beyond, and chills surged down my spine. Had anyone stumbled in accidentally, they’d have soon realized this place was vile. Knowing it ahead of time only made the feeling of foreboding that much heavier. Truth told…I wanted to run in the other direction, as far as I could go. Instead, I fingered the brass cuffs for reassurance.

  Marcus urged us on with an impatient wave, and we ducked to our left as footsteps approached from behind. My mind raced with unanswerable questions: Could they smell us? How long would it take them to sense our presence? What if we made a wrong turn? In the dim light of torches it wouldn’t take much to lose our way. Too many narrow alcoves, tunnels, and wide halls broke off from the old cargo route we followed.

  The air shifted when we made another sharp jog to the left. Decay and rot overwhelmed the smell of must and earth. I wrinkled my nose, trying not to gag on the thick odor.

  “Undead,” Kale whispered at my ear. “Newly created.”

  Oh, God, I so could have gone a lifetime without that visual. Images of rotting corpses lined up against a rough stone wall filled my head. Eyes shrunken into their sockets, flesh falling off exposed bone, swollen and purple limbs—yeah, not what I wanted to run into.

  Light spilled into the hall ahead, and the clanking became deafening. The sound of rattling chains blended into the rhythmic clatter, and every once in a while, a ghostly moan broke over the noise. What in the world were they doing?