by Kade Cook
“Ah, Rachael. I always did like that girl. How is she doing anyway?”
“She is great, Mom, and I think quite eager to take her vacation as well.”
“No doubt! You girls work too hard,” her mother scolds. Gabrian hears some rustling in the background of her mom’s phone. “Well, I have to go now, honey. There are some errands I need to tend to. I love you, and I will see you soon, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Bye, honey. I love you.”
“Love you too, Mom. See you soon. Bye.” Gabrian sighs and hangs up the phone.
There, done. She cannot back out now, especially after hearing how happy it made her mom. Gabrian grabs her empty coffee cup from the bathroom counter and heads back to the kitchen for a refill. Hopefully this time it might even be hot when she gets to drink it.
Gabrian reaches for her kettle then remembers it was cracked from the fall. She picks it up to examine it and notices that the crack is gone. It looks perfectly fine—no crack, no marks, no evidence that anything bad had ever happened to it. Scratching her chin with her hand and twisting her hair in a knot atop of her head again, she continues to stare at the kettle in disbelief of what she sees.
“Okay, this is messed up. I was sure that this was toast.”
Standing in the kitchen with her empty coffee cup in one hand, and her perfectly fine kettle in the other, Gabrian wonders if she is actually awake or if she is asleep and dreaming all of this—the delusion of the smoke chasing her, the Raven banging at the window, and now the miracle kettle that fixes itself. She decides that the only way to tell is to give herself a good pinch. It always works in the movies so she figures why not give it a go.
Setting both the kettle and the cup down on the counter, she reaches over and touches her left arm with her right hand. “Please be a dream. Please be a dream. Please be a dream,” she chants out loud.
The pinch comes.
“Ouchhhh! That smarts.” She rubs her arm soothingly and groans. To her regret, Gabrian is now painfully aware that she is indeed awake.
Having only been up for about three hours, too many things have happened that she has no logical explanation for. Mentally exhausted and quite possibly suffering from a concussion due to last night’s fall, Gabrian submits to the chaos, shakes her head, and admits defeat.
“It is too freakin’ early for all this crap. I am going back to bed!”
Chapter Six
Storm Feathers
GABRIAN CLOSES HER eyes and tilts her head upward. The sun feels warm on her face as a gentle breeze blows through, rustling her hair. She does not remember ever feeling this free or unguarded in her life. The hypnotizing rhythm of the waves drowns out any chance the voices in her head have to disturb her in this place. Her eyes slowly open, and she delights with every colour that floods its way in. Everything is so peaceful and harmonious. It is like watching a symphony being played flawlessly. The waves sing an ancient song of change and renewal that makes her feel so small, yet empowered, and strong for knowing its existence.
She glances around, watching the long grasses sway to and fro as the wind dances through the meadow, flirting with each blade. Engrossed in the performance, Gabrian’s attention is carried along with it, and she finds herself once more before a familiar old lighthouse standing resilient against the sea. Beside it, she sees the woman again, waving for her to follow. She steps out from the long grasses and starts toward her. The woman smiles sweetly, pleased that Gabrian has begun to follow her.
Looking down at the timothy and wild flowers all around, Gabrian runs her hands through them as she walks, feeling the tops of each plant tickle her fingertips. Gabrian glances behind at the woman, but she is no longer there so she returns her attention to her front. She sees a ragged set of steps that lead up to a stone path, their edges smoothened from wear. At the end of the path sits a small wooden house encircled by a cedar fence with a gated archway, guarded by a large Firethorn bush.
Something about this house calls to her. It is enchanting. Gabrian thinks it looks more like a cottage than a traditional-style house with its exposed wood and stones for siding, wild flowers, and green ivy growing freely all around it. It reminds her of a dwelling from a fairy tale that a hunted princess may have once lived in a long time ago. Gabrian gazes at it in admiration of its subtle beauty, then notices there are black-speckled things all around it.
Those cannot be stones, she thinks. It does not look right. She walks closer to the house to get a better look. The black spots begin to move.
Getting closer, she begins to realize that the spots are actually birds—black birds, Ravens in fact, and they are everywhere. Odd, Gabrian considers.
As she continues to watch the birds, she notices that they all seem to be focused on something. She turns her head, curious to see what has their attention. All she can see is fog rolling in off the water. But the more she looks at it, the more she notices that the fog has a strange colour. It is not white but grey, like the colour of smoke. One by one, the Ravens take flight and begin to circle the house; on and on their display continues until all of the birds are airborne. Gabrian is entranced by this bizarre phenomenon and is not sure what to do other than to stand motionless and watch. Suddenly, they change course and fly straight toward her!
They begin to circle her and, in disbelief, she succumbs to the paralyzing terror growing inside. Her limbs, completely useless, make any attempt to run away futile. There are so many Ravens around her that she can barely see the house or the gate through them. All she can see are spectrums of light fading in and out through the black wall of unkindness. Something gently brushes up against her, and she pushes it away quickly, startled by the touch. It is the woman from the meadow. The woman tilts her head and gives Gabrian a warm smile, causing the edges of her silvery eyes to crinkle. Gabrian realizes that this is the same woman from yesterday that supposedly does not exist.
“It is you. I know it is…Mrs. Argryis,” Gabrian shouts in hysterics.
Now, beside her in the midst of the feathery whirlwind, stands a very vivid replica of her illusive imaginary client—disturbingly unconcerned with what is happening around them.
Gabrian feels her throat closing in as she begins to hyperventilate. Her mind screams at her to look for some way out. The birds draw closer than she can stand, and the terror building inside of her suffocates her ability to think logically.
“He is coming!” the unkindness screams.
With no other option, Gabrian warily reaches out to the woman standing at her side. “I am so confused. What am I supposed to do?”
“Do not be afraid,” Mrs. Argryis calmly states. “They will not harm you. They are here to protect you.”
“What are you talking about?” Gabrian shrieks as she folds her arms around her waist, resisting her immediate desire to swat at the encroaching birds. “I don’t understand!”
“Listen for the storm feathers and heed their warnings as they will see when you do not.”
“Storm feathers? Warnings…warnings for what?” Gabrian pleads with the woman for answers as she watches the birds, beginning to feel claustrophobic. “What will they see? Please, enough of these riddles. Just tell me what is going on.” Gabrian places her head in her hands. Everything swims around her—the birds, the house…nothing is still.
She feels like she is caught in a whirlpool and is being sucked down deeper and deeper into an abyss with nothing to hold onto. Everything closes in all around her, suffocating her. She fights with all of her will to break free, but she cannot move, gasping for breath as she screams, “Please stop! Please make it stop!”
She swings her arms violently, clawing at everything and anything around her. Connecting with something pliable and soft, Gabrian fights harder now that she has found something tangible. She pulls and twists her way out of the confinements that have wound their way tightly around her body, partly covering her face.
Finally free from them, she sits up, looking around to try to r
egister where she is. Disoriented from the vividness of the dream, she sits motionless for a few moments and stares at the pile of blankets on the floor that she has just defeated. Gabrian whimpers in a soft, saddened laugh and gathers the remainder of her wits. Her shoulders slump forward as she pulls her knees up against her chest and wraps her arms tightly around them. Leaning her head forward upon her folded limbs, her body begins to tremble—unable to hold back the chaos inside any longer. In a slow lulling rock, she closes her eyes as tears filled with uncertainty gently roll across her cheek.
“What is wrong with me? Why am I having all these messed up hallucinations and dreams?” she chokes out. “I just don’t understand why this is happening to me.”
Sitting in her room, alone in silence, Gabrian comes to the realization that if she does not pull it together that she may be in danger of losing it for real. And that she, the prodigy child of logic and psychology, may to have to find someone to help her cope—even if it is a witch doctor.
Chapter Seven
A Meeting of the Minds
ACROSS TOWN IN her apartment, Rachael reiterates yesterday’s events at the office and of Gabrian’s episode at the bar.
“I have no idea what happened in her office. I was not actually in the room with her,” Rachael articulates out loud. “All I know is that she claims she had a meeting with Mrs. Argryis.”
You are sure the name was Argryis? the first voice resonates within Rachael’s mind as she uses her telepathy to communicate. Rachael’s visitor’s aura has joined in with hers as they continue to speak.
“Yes, I am sure, Elder Ariah.” Rachael twirls her red curly hair as she responds to the white iridescent light that swirls about her. “There is no mistaking that name.”
Did she happen to tell you anything that was said or what purpose Cera had to reveal herself like that? Vaeda’s aura surrounds Rachael as she enters her mind.
“No, Lady of Zephyr, she did not,” Rachael says to the other iridescent light. Feeling a strong presence enter into her living space, she glances over her shoulder to witness Orroryn appear from within the shadows cast over her kitchen door. He decides to join the meeting, hoping to help figure out why all of this is happening.
“Good Evening, Rachael of Vindere,” Orroryn‘s warm voice fills the void of sound in the room as he addresses his host.
Rachael smiles sweetly at him as her body becomes well-aware of his immense presence. She gestures for him to take a seat, her face flushing from their close proximity.
“Good Evening, Orroryn, Elder of Schaeduwe,” Rachael greets him, trying to contain a coy grin. “Welcome.”
Orroryn, have you any news of where she might be? The Zephyr Elder asks, channeling through Rachael and using her voice to speak out loud so the Shadow Walker may hear the internal conversation.
“No, Vaeda. I have not found a trace of Cera. Not since she swore us all to secrecy before I helped her enter the Veil.”
I am uncertain as to why she would risk surfacing while she is so weak. Ariah’s aura shifts and swirls as she speaks. She must be worried to allow herself to become that vulnerable.
“Maybe it is time for us to take matters into our own hands and guide Gabrian without the council,” Orroryn suggests, pushing his agile fingers through his messy curls. “Sarah Shadwell has been to see us. She thinks that when Gabrian goes home for a visit that it may be time.”
“She had some kind of episode last night when we went to the bar for a drink,” Rachael reveals to the elders.
The auras swirl and brighten around Rachael while Orroryn’s haphazard gaze becomes more focused and intense.
“What do you mean ‘an episode?’” The concern in his voice betrays his usual calm demeanor.
What happened? both Ariah and Vaeda voice simultaneously.
“She seemed to go into some kind of trance all of a sudden after taking a sip of a drink,” Rachael explains. “It was like she was looking at things above the crowd. At first, I thought she was just looking for the guy who had bought us the drinks but…”
What kind of drink? Vaeda chirps, interrupting Rachael’s story.
“It was a fruity drink with a Christmassy name…what was it again?” Rachael pinches her nose, trying to remember. Orroryn face’s twitches in annoyance of her lack of memory and noticing his tell, she quickly recalls the name. “Oh, I remember. It was called ‘The Grinch!’”
The iridescent lights swirl again, flaring as if they can almost spark.
No, no, youngling. What was in the drink? Were there any herbs in them? Vaeda asks her host again calmly.
“Now that you mention it, there was a mint leaf,” Rachael announces. “I just thought it was supposed to be there.”
A mint leaf; the Borrowers Fellowship often use mint leaves to stir the senses of their younglings while in training to spark their essences. It helps them to focus and see the energies more clearly,” Vaeda expounds the significance of the herb to the others.
That cannot be a coincidence. Can it? Ariah questions the fluke.
“No, Ariah. I doubt it was a coincidence at all.” Orroryn rises from his seat and strides over to the window to stare out into the night. His certainty is obvious as he voices his belief. “I have the distinct feeling that someone is very aware of what Gabrian is or what she may become.”
But how? We were sworn to secrecy. No one else knows about her, Ariah discloses.
“Who did you say bought those drinks for you?” Orroryn turns to Rachael, and she catches her breath as she drowns in his deep-green eyes.
Rachael gazes, momentarily dazed in some other world, then catches herself and returns hastily with her answer, “The waitress said his name was Adrinn.”
The iridescent lights surge with incredible brightness and become almost blinding as they swirl in a frenzy. Orroryn’s motions completely stop, and his face turns pale for a few moments. His eyes, which were a second ago warm and welcoming, have lost their sparkle and are now dark jade, revealing the side of a darker spirit within.
Find her, keep an eye on her, Vaeda’s voice stresses the urgency in her words to Rachael. Speak to no one about this until I get back to you.
Orroryn, I need you to go to her parents and tell them what is going on. They must be informed, Vaeda insists to her close and trusted companion.
Ariah, keep your connections open to everyone. Give no indication to anyone that anything is wrong, but alert me if you feel any disruption in the energies, Vaeda requests from her dear friend then returns her focus on her host. Rachael, allow no one but us three to see Gabrian or know of her location until I have said otherwise.
Confused and concerned, Rachael agrees to Vaeda’s wishes. Within moments, her connections to her Elders, Ariah and Vaeda, are gone leaving Orroryn as the only other one left in the room with her. The awkward silence becomes deafening, and she feels the weight of his eyes press against her. Her skin tingles, from his closeness, and her face flushes from the sudden rise in her body temperature. Rachael picks up a pen from the counter and fidgets with it, clicking it mindlessly in an effort of distraction. Slowly edging towards her, Orroryn clasps his large tanned hand around hers—ceasing the incessant clicking, then gently removes the noisy object from her hand and places it back where it came from. Rachael gasps at his touch and raises her chin, lifting her eyes to meet his gaze—once again the colour of a calm sea. Sharing a brief glance, she sees the clouds forming around him. His smile faintly covers the worry that his crooked brow cannot hide. He sighs and looks away, just for a moment, searching the shadows behind her, preparing to take his leave.
He reaches up and touches her arm gently. “Watch her closely but guard yourself as well. Something is triggering this, and unfortunately, once I figure out the answer to this riddle, I don’t think I am going to like what I find.” Orroryn looks down at Rachael, and she sees the angst in his eyes as he entrusts his fears to her. “I am going to the Covenant tonight, but if you need me, call out for me. I will be just
beyond the shadows, and I will hear you.”
Rachael nods and smiles at him wearily. “Who is Adrinn?” she asks Orroryn just as he turns to leave.
He stops and sighs then returns to her. Standing before her small fragile body, he raises his hand and gently slides the tips of his fingers along the bottom of her jaw. The warmth of his touch ignites a yearning within Rachael as her eyes raise to meet his intense gaze.
“Something you don’t ever want to meet.”
Orroryn’s grim words leave the weight of heavy stone in her heart as he relinquishes his touch and steps back toward the shadows, vanishing within them.
Chapter Eight
A Hunger Within
AFTER SPENDING THE rest of Saturday in bed reading, watching TV, and doing just about everything Gabrian can possibly think of to distract herself from reality, the day is pretty much a write off.
Rachael had called her around supper time to see how she felt, but Gabrian is certain the real reason that Rachael called was to make sure she had not cracked up on her. After finally assuring her friend that she is fine, and feeling much better, Rachael lets her off the hook—sort of.
“How about I bring you over some takeout from the deli around the corner, and we can watch a movie?” Rachael presses.
“Thanks, Rach, but I am really not that hungry. I had a big lunch, and I don’t think I could eat anyway,” Gabrian lies.
She just did not want to sit through another Rachael lecture of how she needs to take care of herself better, how she needs to eat more, and then try to ignore Rachael as she gives her the pity stare all night. Sometimes, when she does that, Gabrian swears it is not Rachael looking at her but an entirely different person. It is so unsettling sometimes.
