She leaned forward and I did too, until my head was against hers. Her skin felt cool next to mine. “Clear your mind and concentrate on the energy around us,” she said and closed her eyes.
I closed mine and immediately found myself going through all the weird stuff that had been happening to me. To think I’d been playing baseball just weeks ago, knocking the ball around with my brother Todd—
“Concentrate,” she said, this time louder.
Oh yeah. Concentrate. Stupid ADHD. It was such a pain to forget where I was at the moment and have my mind on other things than what I should be thinking about. Like that time—
“Bren…” This time Jazz’s voice held a note of warning, and I dragged my thoughts back to the moment. “Clear your mind and concentrate on the energy around us. Now.”
This time I forced myself to focus on nothing but where we were. The more I got into it, the more I felt what she meant about the energy in the room. It was a kind of electrical charge that seemed to get more and more intense.
A burst of light flashed through my head, and then I felt like I was being jerked out of my skin.
In the next moment I found myself standing in the middle of a dark village. A shiver skittered down my spine. Evil surrounding the place was tangible, as if I could reach out and grab it—or kill it with my sword.
Jazz stood beside me. “You will now see what Nire does to our people.”
I glanced down at Jazz, but her form was shadowy. “I’m ready.”
“The Shadowmaster is of the oldeFolke.” Her voice was quiet, but steady. “OldeFolke are witches who were never human to begin with. Most are faerie halflings, crossed with animals or other magical creatures. They live longer, with stronger magic. Many are older than anyone knows.”
I looked up ahead, squinting as if I’d see the Shadowmaster somewhere in that dark place. “So, Nire could be hundreds of years old?”
“Far older.” Jazz raised her chin and searched the skies. “Some suspect the Shadowmaster has existed since the dawn of time. No one knows what Nire looks like or who is loyal to the forces of darkness.” Jazz’s ghostly hand tugged at my arm, and we moved forward through the village.
Shadows clung to buildings around us and my skin crawled. The Shadows started to move. They crept down the walls and vanished through the wood.
Screams came from inside the buildings. In moments, witches and other beings fled out into the street, running through doors, jumping from windows, flying away on branches.
I tried to draw my sword, but Jazz’s tense fingers gripped my arm. “There is nothing we can do. This is a vision of the past, the second sanctuary Nire invaded.”
It was like the dream I’d had, only this time there were more Shadows, more witches being herded into the center of the village. My heart pounded and my gut twisted at the sight of all those people screaming and trying to escape. I wanted to do something, anything, but all I could do was stand there and watch.
One Shadow swooped down and raked vicious nails across a witch’s cheek, and she screamed. Immediately the wound squirmed with what looked like mini-shadows, and black blood flowed down her face. She dropped to the ground and writhed in obvious agony, the sound of her cries making my blood run cold.
The nightmare vision continued, and I clenched my vision-fists. Shadows attacked and rounded up witches until the ones who weren’t already dead or turned to Shadows themselves were cowering in the street.
Jazz’s fingers dug into my arm so hard it felt real. “Nire,” she whispered, fury in her voice.
A purple glow blazed. The form from my nightmare appeared, as ghostly as we were and hard to make out.
The Shadowmaster.
I had dreamed about Nire. And now, here the monster was—only not here, at the same time. Somehow, I had the sense that Nire could only appear in spirit-form, that the Shadowmaster hadn’t grown strong enough to show up in person.
When that happened—well, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere around.
Even as Nire approached the witches, something struck me as incredibly familiar about the Shadowmaster. It didn’t make sense at all, the way I felt.
I ground my teeth, waiting for Shadows to attack the witches. But this time the Shadowmaster spoke in a voice that was unworldly, neither here nor there. The language Nire used I shouldn’t have understood, but somehow I did.
“Amongst you are many of my kindred, the oldeFolke,” the Shadowmaster said. “Those of you who choose to serve me will be allowed to live and prosper. Any of you who choose otherwise will be sent to the Shadows, along with all witches of weak powers and weak blood. I will cleanse the earth of all that is vile and impure, and right what is wrong with our world.”
Whimpers and cries rang out. Fury tore at my gut as I saw what the Shadowmaster was doing. My heart wrenched for those who would likely not survive.
“I will join ye.” A hag moved from the center of the crowd and knelt before the Shadowmaster. “I never held well with that Jasmina Corey. Queen of the Witches, indeed.”
My jaws ached, I ground my teeth so hard.
“I will serve you as well.” A male witch stepped forward and dropped to one knee. “It will be my honor, Shadowmaster.”
Several more of the oldeFolke chose to join Nire. But most of the witches remained where they stood. Frightened witches whimpered and huddled with those who whispered gentle words of support. “Talamadden,” I heard them say. “There is always Talamadden.”
Wise oldeFolke merely eyed the Shadowmaster with a kind of calm that must have come from centuries of wisdom.
Nire’s gaze raked over the oldeFolke and fury was evident in the Shadowmaster’s trembling hands. “Join with me,” the being shouted, “or you shall perish, now!”
No one else moved.
My gut twisted, and I wanted to shield my eyes from what I knew would happen next. I didn’t want to see Nire throwing those blazing purple ropes around the witches. Didn’t want to see the Shadows devour them. Didn’t want to hear the screams of the dying. Didn’t want to see them turned into Shadows.
Thock.
That hollow knocking sound from my dream!
Thock. Thock. Thock.
An incredible force slammed into me.
Jazz and I both flew back, and I landed on my butt. The second I cut my gaze to Jazz’s, I knew that wasn’t supposed to happen.
We both scrambled to our vision-feet. At the same time I heard a bizarre giggle, and I felt the wriggling sensation in my pocket.
“We’ve got to get back!” Jazz shouted. “I think Shadowbridge is under attack. Focus as hard as you can on returning to your body.”
She didn’t have to tell me twice. This time I had no problem concentrating.
I jumped back into my body with enough force to tear my real hands from Jazz’s. We scrambled to our feet. I ripped my sword from its sheath, and Jazz held up her hands, gold sparks glittering at the end of her fingers.
I held my breath as my gaze darted around the room. Sunlight poured in through the window. Complete silence filled the room, except for the sound of our breathing.
Slowly, Jazz let her hands drop to her sides, and the gold sparks twinkled out. I lowered my sword. Our gazes locked.
Jazz’s chest rose as she took a deep breath. “I believe Nire is closer to finding Shallym than I had thought.”
Not good. Not good at all. Because I had the same gut feeling, even though I couldn’t say why.
I raked my hand through my hair. It was all too much. But I had to know more. After my heart started beating normally again and color returned to Jazz’s face, I asked, “Why don’t you go after Nire before the Shadowmaster finds this Sanctuary?”
“We don’t know where to find the door to Nire’s stronghold.” Jazz gave a shaky sigh and moved to the bench by the window. “The place where the fiend enters the Path. For all we know, Nire could be among us at this very moment.”
I sheathed my sword and eased onto the bench, but I felt c
ompletely on edge, like I should be attacking something rather than talking about it. “The Shadowmaster could be anyone around us?”
“Yes.” With a nod, Jazz added, “And as I explained before, Nire desires to kill or enslave all witches and humans, too. We’ve learned this from hags and other oldeFolke who defected from Nire’s service, or escaped from areas the Shadowmaster controls, or those who survived the attacks. And through my visions.”
Everything she said, and everything that had just happened, was so unreal, kind of like the Japanese anime my brother and I used to watch every afternoon when we got home from school.
It was hard to absorb it all. A witch-strongman going around and wiping out witches and humans. How could anyone be that sick?
“Shadows are Nire’s minions,” Jazz continued, still looking frazzled and out of breath. “Souls of dark witches gone before, and souls of those lost on their way to the afterlife. Even without their bodies, these Shadows are capable of physical, magical, or mental assault against anyone on the Path of Shadows.”
She laced her fingers together in her lap as she talked. “Little by little, Nire is conquering the Sanctuaries along the Path, killing witches or trapping them in the timeline so they’ll be killed in the inevitable persecution to come.”
“Hold it. Hold it.” My head started to hurt more than it already was. “Trapped in the timeline? What do you mean?”
“It’s confusing, I know.” Jazz looked at the ceiling as if searching for Shadows there. “But Father designed the Path so that witches could enter a Sanctuary in a time of peace and acceptance. If the witch was young, or had a long lifespan, then as time moved forward in that Sanctuary, peace and acceptance might end. If that happened, the witch could flee back to the Path, to a new Sanctuary.”
“Okay, so, once somebody enters a Sanctuary, time keeps moving, and things might get bad for witches again.” I rubbed my temples. It was all so confusing, yet in a way it made sense.
Jazz nodded, her black hair gleaming in the afternoon sunlight pouring in through the window. “And now, Nire has put spells on the Path. Barriers of dark magic. Obstacles of Shadows. Witches with lesser strength than mine are forced to stay in the first Sanctuary they visit.” She crossed her legs at her knees and leaned back in the seat. “When time moves on and problems begin, I can’t save them a second time. I can’t take them to a new Sanctuary because a second exposure to Nire’s poisonous magic would kill them.”
A deep cold rippled along my skin as what she said sank in. “Then how did I get into that prehistoric Sanctuary and back to this one? Wasn’t I exposed to Nire’s black magic twice, too?”
For a moment Jazz looked almost afraid to answer. Finally she said, “Three times. On the way to Shallym, and then twice more when you entered the ancient Sanctuary to save me and came back. You have great strength, both physical and spiritual. It means your mother was right, that you’re destined for great things.”
I wasn’t ready to deal with that yet. My brain was really starting to throb, and I had to struggle to keep my focus. “So, what you’re saying is that normally witches can only go into one Sanctuary, and that’s it. Which means they’re trapped in the timeline.”
“Yes. Until they die of natural causes or fall victim to violence.” Jazz’s gaze locked with mine. “Because it always comes, Bren. Violence and persecution for witches. No matter what time or place.”
I leaned forward and took one of her clenched hands and held it within mine again. “And your family? You faced this persecution, too?”
“We lived in Middle Salem, at first in peace, and then the Salem witch trials started. We had to flee.” She raised her chin and her eyes glittered. “That’s when I lost Mother, all of my family, and all of the oldeFolke living with us. When we tried to flee to Shallym on the Path.”
She swallowed and her voice faltered. “Nire took them hostage to make certain my father died. And to torture me, hoping one day I will suffer too much and turn to evil, or accept it, in order to have relief.”
“What?” I practically shouted and almost jumped to my feet. “Wait a second. How could that freak expect you to become evil?”
Jazz shrugged, but the tension in her body told me how much it bothered her. “It has been known to happen. Witches and oldeFolke lured to Nire’s side to try to save a loved one—or for greed and power.”
She made a face, and for a minute, I wondered who she was thinking about. Did Jazz know someone who had gone bad? I didn’t know whether to ask or leave it alone. Finally, because she seemed so stressed out, I went for leaving it alone. Everything was so overwhelming that my thoughts threatened to scatter, but I fought to maintain my concentration. “Why does the Shadowmaster want to torture you? I’m glad he hasn’t killed the rest of your family, but what’s the point?”
She looked embarrassed, and lowered her eyes. “I’m a pure descendant of Shallym’s original witches. I have power that no other witch queen or king has ever had, save for my father.” She paused for a moment. “The Shadowmaster wants to steal my energy and magic—join with it and take it over. If Nire accomplishes this—well, Nire would be invincible if my power were added to the Shadows.”
Whoa. No way was I going to let Nire get hold of Jazz.
“An ancient prophecy foretold all of this,” she said. “And it predicted one who could defeat the Shadowmaster. The Shadowalker. Only he can wield the sword forged by the oldeFolke, the sword designed to break Nire’s spells. Only the Shadowalker will have the strength to journey with me into Nire’s stronghold, sever the Shadowmaster’s dark energy at its very source, and free the Path.”
I swallowed hard. “And that Shadowalker—”
She interrupted me, her words coming in a rush. “I moved through door after door in witch time and witch place. We call it ‘walking the Shadows,’ because those connections are where the Shadows lurk. Going through those doors can accidentally release Shadows into the time and place the witch goes, so there’s always danger. That’s why I was so upset that you had breached the Path and hadn’t sealed it behind you.”
Her eyes looked tortured, almost frantic as she continued, “I walked the Shadows in search of the true champion—the Shadowalker, a powerful witch in his own right with a special energy that can drive the Shadows back and ultimately destroy Nire. In every time and place, I set up spells, but no champion came.”
Jazz squeezed my hand so tight her nails dug into my flesh, yet I barely felt the pain. Her golden eyes stared into mine, pleading. Begging me to understand.
“Finally,” she said, “I set up spells in your time, in the non-witching world. I called out for the champion, and you came, Bren. And yesterday, when you saved me, you entered the Path without my help. There can be no question, after that. You are the Shadowalker.”
My gut twisted up in a funny way. I shook my head. “No way. You’ve got to be wrong.”
She raised her chin in that arrogant way that made me want to choke her—or kiss her. “It is the truth.”
“I’m not a champion.” I pulled my hand out of her grasp and straightened. “Not for you. Not for anybody.”
***
Chapter Sixteen
The vision had been terrible, as soul wrenching as I imagined it might be—but even after that experience, Bren didn’t believe me, about the level of his powers or his role. Even before he had told me as much, I had seen it in his eyes, along with something else. A flicker of darkness I couldn’t read.
That flicker troubled me, like his ability to resist some of my magic. And yet, he had just asked that we be totally honest with each other. He had touched me so sweetly and vowed friendship last night. And then today…he had smiled like he’d been genuinely glad to see me, and took my hand. My cheeks flushed at his nearness, and his kindness warmed my heart. I didn’t want to offend him with suspicion. Bren seemed open, and I was beginning to believe I could trust him. As much as Rol.
Maybe more than Rol.
The thought ma
de my belly tighten. All of a sudden, the filth on Bren’s shoes drove me near to distraction. I had to close my eyes to keep from zapping his boots and risking a few of his toes in the process.
With a flick of my wrist, I closed the drawing room door and lowered its outer bar into place. “Enough of my useless weeping. You must learn basic spellwork, or Nire will destroy you instantly.”
When I glanced at Bren, he was frowning. “Thanks. That’s reassuring.”
“You wished us to be truthful with each other.” I stood, dusting off my hands—and once more, that flicker of darkness marred Bren’s handsome face. “That—that’s what you wanted? Honesty?”
Bren nodded, but he didn’t speak. Instead, he got to his feet and studied the door, as if glaring at the wood would make it move. I had a sudden image of him running through it. Breaking down the wood as he fled out of Shadowbridge, out of Shallym, and straight into the ocean to meet his doom.
“You have to see it in your thoughts.” I moved to stand beside him, as much to steady him as feel his nearness. “Close your eyes, but keep the image of the door and the outer bar. Make it bright, and colorful, and real.”
Bren closed his eyes. And opened them. He fidgeted and tried again. Once more, his eyes popped open.
He clenched his fists. “‘See it in your thoughts’,” he muttered. “You sound like one of those television psychics. Call Miss Jazz. She’ll read your future, right here in the Tarot cards.”
“Please take this seriously.” My weariness returned at the speed of light. “All you have to do is put your mind to it.”
“‘All you have to do is put your mind to it’,” Bren mimicked in a voice much higher and more annoying than I thought mine had been.
What was making him so angry? Before I could ask, he squeezed his eyes shut. Immediately, his foot started to tap. In a few seconds, his entire leg was jiggling.
I touched his elbow, and he jerked away. “Crap—screw it!” He turned his back to me. “I can’t do this.”
L.O.S.T. Trilogy Box Set Page 12
