L.O.S.T. Trilogy Box Set

by R. S. Collins

  “After my mom died, my dad got married really fast. Then he and my stepmother threw me out when I wouldn’t stop practicing the craft like Mom had. I didn’t have anywhere to go, just the streets.” Sherise’s story tumbled out in a rush. “I couldn’t go to school that much because of the other kids. They knew I was different. They always cornered me, beat on me—I didn’t know what to do. My magic was real. Stuff kept happening, and I was freaking out.”

  “Alderon offered you safety?” Jazz asked in a measured tone. “He took you into his Coven?”

  Pleasantly surprised, I took my heel off her toes.

  “Yes.” Sherise wouldn’t meet Jazz’s eyes. “Most of them were guys, but there were a few girls like me. They gave me a place to stay, and Alderon told me about the Path, about Sanctuaries. They all did. Everyone kept saying how wonderful my life could be. But Alderon insisted Bren and Todd were evil, that they were corrupting everything and planned to destroy our chances to be safe and happy on the Path.”

  “I see.” Jazz folded her hands in front of her, and for a second, I hated her for being able to lace her fingers together so easily.

  “He said it was a talisman.” Sherise’s Georgia drawl became more obvious as she slowed down. “It felt all wrong, that thing. And I sort of knew better, but I didn’t want to think that Alderon would lie to me. After I got here and met you guys, it was like I just forgot the golem. Any time I thought about it—”

  “Yeah. That part I know.” I smiled at her. “Been there, done that.”

  “Did Jasmina put you in the anteroom?” Todd grumbled.

  “Call her Jazz,” I snapped. “You’ve definitely been hanging out with the oldeFolke too much. You’re even starting to sound like one.”

  Jazz put her hand over mine. “Sherise, you have much potential, but you need training, especially in protecting yourself against black-hearted fools like Alderon. If we allow you to stay—”

  “If?” Todd cut in loudly. He looked like he was about to stand up, so I kicked him. He kicked me right back. The flare in his eyes was nothing short of violent, and for a second, I felt a little dizzy. Was I looking at Todd? At Mom?

  Nire…

  Way, way back in my head, the Erlking’s laughter made my blood turn to ice.

  I clamped my teeth together and shoved the image of that nasty shapeshifter as far from my thoughts as I could get him.

  Meanwhile, Jazz was finishing her question to Sherise. “Would you allow me to train you, to be certain you’re cleansed of Alderon’s treachery?”

  “That won’t happen.” Todd stood up so fast I didn’t have time to kick him this time. “She’s afraid of you.” His glare turned on me. His lips tightened, then he blew out a breath and added, “You’re cold, Jazz, and you’ve treated Sherise like crap.”

  “Just a minute.” I got up, wincing as I pushed on the table with my bandaged hand. “Keep it calm, Todd. Jazz—”

  “Don’t tell me what to do.” Todd was seething. I could see that unbelievable hatred in his eyes, anger so strong it almost flared red behind all that icy blue.

  “I’ll do it.” Sherise’s agreement cut through the rising anger and frustration. “Jazz is right. I need help, and she’s strong enough to fight Alderon.”

  “We’re strong enough,” Todd and I said at the same time. Then we both looked down like we always did when we felt stupid.

  When Todd and I straightened up again, Sherise was in the middle of rolling her eyes, and Jazz had covered her mouth to hide a smile.

  ***

  Chapter Eleven

  They came to me by ones and twos, by threes and fours, slithering, flying, crawling, stumbling. I hurtled left. Right. I ran. I threw myself into the night, but I couldn’t escape them. The scar on my arm burst open and bled. My own warm blood flowed over my hands, leaking my life out across the frozen ground.

  I ran until I had no breath, no more heart for the flight. Bleeding so badly. My body failed in a spectacular skidding fall. Facedown in the icy dirt, I waited for death.

  Sick chittering filled the air, and it was the sound of sand crabs worrying a fish. The sound of scavengers at a carcass. Throaty hums. Teeth chomping. I rolled over, but they came in darkness so complete I could see nothing at all, not even the hands I raised to spell them to oblivion. My body shook from cold, from despair. Shadows. Shadows everywhere! They covered L.O.S.T. like a smothering blanket. In seconds they would overtake me, consume me, send me back to the land of the dead, this time to stay forever.

  The force of my magic swelled within me, and I fired the largest blast I could manage. It barely served to light a small circle around me. Shadows! A sea of evil waves that would never stop. Around them swirled a horrid laughter, a sound I’ve never heard but thought I should recognize.

  So falls Jasmina Corey and all she sought to rule.

  The words were as much in my head as in the air. The voice was my mother’s, my father’s. It was Bren’s and Todd’s. It was Sherise and Rol and everyone I had known or cared to remember. They laughed at me again, but the Shadows did not laugh.

  The Shadows moved in for the kill.

  “Your Majesty?”

  I woke with a shout, grabbing a fistful of someone else’s hair and pulling out the dagger I kept beneath my pillow. Sherise shrieked as I pressed the blade to her throat. Only the chain of her moonstone necklace stopped the tip from drawing blood.

  “Jasmina.” My mother’s voice cut into the flare of my panic. “Put the knife down.”

  Hand shaking, I eased the dagger away from Sherise’s vulnerable flesh and let go of her dark curls. She reeled away, collapsing into the arms of my mother.

  “I have done my best not to gainsay you since your return,” Mother said calmly. “But perhaps that was extreme?”

  “My apologies,” I croaked. My throat was so dry the words hurt. “I was having a nightmare.”

  Mother patted Sherise’s head and helped her stand upright. “Obviously.”

  There are potions to prevent that. Draughts even a first-year apprentice can conjure. That much Mother left unsaid, a small blessing at least, but I could see it in her eyes.

  Morning light spilled through the modest bedroom in the modern house my mother had agreed to share with me. Yellow walls, hardwood floors, brass bed. It was hard to believe my mother lived so comfortably without the trappings of Old Salem, where I had grown up until Nire attacked that Sanctuary and killed my father. At the same time, Nire kidnapped my mother and most of the witches I knew. In truth, then, I had never gotten to know Mother in another time. I had never really gotten to know her at all. She was strange to me now, like most things.

  As for Sherise, I had brought her home with me the night before, to begin more adequate training, and to keep an eye on her. She had taken the small spare cot in my room without protest. And I, in my infinite brilliance, had almost cut her throat before the day began.

  Mother led her away. The sight of the girl’s shaking made me hang my head.

  With a sigh, I threw back the covers and headed to the very modem bathroom with its very modern shower. Undressing, setting the water—it was all a blur as my mind strove to list the many mistakes I had made since leaving Talamadden. It wasn’t until the warm water struck me and washed away the shards of the dream, that I realized what I was doing. The voice of that blue bird Egidus rang in my mind, talking of different kinds of arrogance, of the many subtle ways in which I thought myself better than others.

  To expect success. To demand perfection and bemoan the fates when I could not achieve it. Bren, Sherise—even my mother. Did I expect perfection from them as well?

  Little by little, I let the gentle water wear down the sharp edges of my worry. By the time I dressed and joined Mother and Sherise for breakfast, I felt more centered, and I offered the girl more apologies.

  Sherise accepted them quietly. Most of the time she kept her head down, but when she chanced a look up, I caught a spark in her dark eyes.

  Wa
s it anger?

  Fear?

  “…Ways to separate your magic,” Mother was saying as she helped herself to more toast, baked sprouts, and oat porridge. “I’ve only had a day, but the old scrolls seem silent on the subject. Even the hags have never known it to happen, two witches sharing the same magical source. Then again, they have no record of any witch successfully returning from Talamadden.”

  “So, there’s no known way to restore our powers.” I poked at my porridge. It looked good enough, and I knew I needed to eat, but… “Will my people expect us to step down, then? How can the Queen of the Witches have no magic? Or the King of the Witches, for that matter.”

  “But my dear, you have plenty of magic, as does Bren.” Mother smiled. I found that jarring, having few memories of such an expression on her stern face. “Your powers are simply joined. Together, the two of you wield a strength none can stand against—not even Nire, if you’ll remember.”

  Memories, both real and dreamed, crept through my mind and sent chills down the back of my neck. “I’d rather not, thanks.”

  “Yes. Well.” Mother actually looked distressed. “In any case, I doubt there will be a cry for you to abdicate. Most are too thrilled to have you back amongst us.”

  I studied Sherise’s lowered head and wondered if Mother might be delusional. The witches had never seemed overly fond of me. Respectful and fearful, yes, but fond—no.

  You gave them few reasons to love you past your title and duties, my brain informed me in a voice that sounded overly much like that infernal peacock. But people rally about a leader willing to die to save them.

  I rubbed my eyes for a moment, then brought my thoughts to rivers, to trees swaying in breezes, to soft rains and bright sunshine. Holding to these more comforting images, I made myself eat my mother’s porridge.

  That afternoon, Sherise and I sat cross-legged in a quiet forest clearing. It was a chilly autumn afternoon, but just being alive chased away any cold that might have taken hold of me. Anything and everything felt good these days. Emotions, smells, tastes, pain…it all reminded me that I was alive. And it was so very good to be alive again.

  Sherise had worked well with her meditations and small spells, and she spoke more freely of her troubled past. It was easy to be in her company, which distanced her some from Alderon in my regard. He had always been a perfect ass, and being in his presence had been unsettling. Even the hags stayed away from him.

  Pushing visions of Alderon’s hateful blue eyes aside, I used what residual power I possessed to help Sherise learn wards and protections, to understand the abstractions behind such spells, and the mindset and energy necessary to case them. We were wending through images of personal shielding when her eyes came open.

  “You love Bren, don’t you?” she asked in that soft, disarming drawl.

  “Yes.” My answer left my lips before I considered it, but I didn’t regret my openness. My feelings for Bren could hardly be a secret to the people of L.O.S.T. Every witch in every Sanctuary might know by now.

  Sherise shifted on the ground, using a trick I had taught her to increase blood flow in her legs. “Why aren’t you with him today? He’s got to be having a hard time with his fingers and all. Besides, you’ve only been alive—back, I mean, for a little while. I know you’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

  “Sometimes Bren needs his own thoughts.” This answer came as automatically as the first, and I wondered why I said it, and how I knew it was true. “I pushed him yesterday, and he has a difficult task ahead. When he wants my help, he’ll come to me. Besides, I have a duty to you.”

  “Alderon spoke a lot about duty.” Sherise wrapped her arms around herself. “And I listened.”

  “You needed what he had to offer. That’s a powerful inducement.”

  The girl’s frown deepened. “I need what you have to offer, too. You and Bren and Todd and L.O.S.T. So how can I be sure this is different? What if I’m wandering down that same path again, turning myself over to people with more power, more strength. What if you use me, too?”

  The question surprised me more than angered me, and this time, my answer took some time to form. I listened to the softest of breezes shift through the clearing as I organized my words, then finally gave it a try. “The main difference I see is that we will not ask you to turn yourself over to us. Your soul, your beliefs, your choices—they must be your own. We will teach you and in return ask your loyalty, but whether or not you give it is up to you.”

  “If I never want to fight again, or deal with Alderon—could I go to some faraway Sanctuary in some other time?” Her face brightened at this dream, and it was a dream I knew all too well. “Could I live a peaceful life and leave the protections and wars and big magic to other witches?”

  “If that is your choice.” I said this, sensing even as I did that such would not be Sherise’s destiny. “Know this. Any leader might ask you to do something against your own comfort or desires, something outside what you believe to be your strengths or abilities, but the final choice lies in your hands. A true leader never robs you of free choice by using fear, intimidation, humiliation, pain, threats, or lies.”

  “I think I understand.” Sherise’s head dropped, but then she lifted it once more. Her dark eyes sparked again, and I realized it was neither anger nor fear I saw in the soft light of that forest clearing. It was strength. It was the cleansing of shame, the righting of purpose as she shed Alderon’s bitter influence.

  Bren had been right about this one. What a tragedy it would have been to cast her aside. Now that my own trust had increased, I eyed her silver chain and its stone, then broached the one question yet remaining in my mind. “Before Bren left to retrieve me from Talamadden, you loaned him your moonstone. If I’m not much mistaken, it’s a family treasure? Something that would have passed hand-to-hand through the female witches of your line over many centuries. What moved you to part with it?”

  “My grandmother—my Mom’s mom—gave it to me after my thirteenth birthday. Last year, when my mother got killed.” Sherise’s sadness laced through each word. “Guess she figured I needed something since my Dad lost his mind and started dating right away, leaving me alone all the time. Anyway, Grandmother told me to cherish it, to keep it close, but never be afraid to send it on a journey. One way or another, she said, that stone would always find its way back to the hand of the Ash. That’s our family name. Ash.”

  Somehow, I kept my smile from faltering.

  Why had I never asked the girl’s surname before?

  Ash. The oldest of the known clans. Any Coven with a true Ash was formidable indeed. And her grandmother’s words were quite telling. The stone would always find its way back to the hand of the Ash. The true heir to that powerful legacy. No wonder Alderon had selected this girl amongst the many he might have pursued.

  “We should work more with your moonstone, I think.” I gazed at the treasure, admiring the depth of its warm glimmer. “Heirlooms like this often have tremendous power. It might even magnify your gift.”

  Sherise’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. She picked up the stone and rubbed it between her thumb and forefinger. “So, what would I do? Meditate on it or something?”

  “It’s like that, yes. I’ll try to teach you to concentrate through the stone, to use it to expand the force behind your spells, but not today. We’re both too tired.”

  Obediently, Sherise let the stone drop back to her chest.

  “One more question before we stop for the day, just to let me know a little more about you.” I made my tone casual, conversational, even as I steeled myself for the answer. “How did your mother die?”

  Sherise’s expression reflected pain and unhappiness the minute the words left my mouth, but she didn’t hesitate. “Mom was coming back from the Magic Journey store when some freak in a purple truck ran her down. They never caught him. Never even found that truck—and you’d think that would have been easy, at least.”

  “I’m sorry.” I covered Sh
erise’s smaller hand with mine. Inside, I was seething, wishing I could find Alderon and do unspeakable things to him on Sherise’s behalf. And on behalf of her murdered mother. “Perhaps her killer will find justice someday.”

  At my hand, or at Bren’s, by the Goddess.

  Sherise’s only answer was a wistful smile. We made ready to stand up, but the wind chose that moment to pick up. Then something blocked the sun above us.

  A red slither slammed down into the clearing, shaking the earth. Its wings snapped tree branches as Todd leaped down and jogged toward us.

  “I need your help,” he said to Sherise without even glancing in my direction. “One of the poms got into some Oleander seeds, and she’s really ill. It’s Karina, and you know how she is. I can’t get her to calm down enough for a healing.”

  Sherise stood and dusted off her hands. “Thanks for today, Jazz. Will we start back tomorrow?”

  I nodded.

  “Sherise!” Todd was already back to his slither. He climbed on the beast’s long neck, and then he did look at me.

  The expression was less than friendly.

  Nevertheless, it melted back to concern and worry as Sherise joined him. The two of them flew off, bruising pine and oak alike before they reached sufficient altitude. The slither circled once, seemed to pause and vibrate, then was gone, flapping away toward oldeTowne.

  At the same instant, a large load of slither dung splattered into the clearing, coating me with the foulest of hot green goo, from head to toe.

  I leaped to my feet, shouting curses.

  The snot! Of all the—twit! Ooooh, for enough power to blast that little jerk right off the back of his winged lizard. Into a cart full of ox droppings!

  I didn’t even have the strength of magic to perform a cleansing spell without Bren, and that made me even angrier. Growling worse than a wounded hag-spirit, I stormed out of the clearing, dripping a nasty trail as I went.

  ***

  Chapter Twelve

  “Again.” Rol raised his blade. It gleamed in the afternoon sunlight.