by Kade Cook
Her mental drifting is jarred with a quick right turn into a parking lot—all shifting in their seats at the thoughts of a pit stop and a chance to stretch their legs. Gabrian’s cravings have subsided quite a bit since taking the backseat and a lung full of salty air will hopefully clear out what is left harbouring inside. They roll slowly through the lot, along the turnabout, until the car’s transmission is jammed into park at the edge of grass. The doors fly open on both sides as they all step out onto Canadian soil. Before them stands an extremely large lobster with a fisherman dressed in his sou’wester outfit, overlooking the water.
The trio motions forward to take in the peculiar landmark. Although it’s an unusual statue, they all agree it has a particular draw to it—managing to delight and stir their imagination, not to mention the attentions of the excited group of tourists clinging along the front edges of it in order to have their picture taken. Engrossed in the festivities, Shane, Rachael and Gabrian do not notice the new entry to their viewing party.
A low accented voice speaks up from behind them, making them jump in their skins. “You’re next,” it says, in a loud rumble.
Rachael and Gabrian both pivot on their heels, stumbling backward with Gabrian’s arm instinctively outstretched and shielding her friend. Searching the situation, their faces crane upward. They both stare wide-eyed and open-jawed at the lumberjack-sized man standing in front of them. His log-sized arms tucked across his broad chest greet them and hazel green eyes almost glow in the sunlight.
Shane quickly swings his arms out and grabs hold of the stranger, securing him into a tight bear hug. In shock of his sudden attack, Gabrian awakens her senses and searches for the intruder’s aura—efforts to seek out the source of magical being they are up against. Stiffening her outstretched arms to create a more secure makeshift blockade between the men and her defenceless friend, she does a quick study of the beast and concludes her barrier may be futile due to his absence of energy field.
It’s another Shadow Walker, a Schaeduwe just like Shane. Remembering the deep connection exuded between all Shadow Walkers, her emotions become conflicted at this sudden act of combat. But when the loud rumbling sounds of laugher fill the air and the struggles between the two evolve into a brotherly wrestling match that rests in boyish banter and a punch to the arm, Gabrian begins to breathe again—her appendage still protectively stretched in front of her friend.
Rachael peeks around the side of Gabrian’s shoulder to take in the new development. “Okay, so now that we have all the testosterone fueled man bonding out of the way—introductions please,” Rachael chirps, ducking under Gabrian’s arm and strutting her fiery redhead toward the overgrown boys.
“Yeah, yeah, I am getting to it.” Shane huffs out at her. “Rachael, this is Broghen, a very good friend of mine.”
Racheal’s eyes dance over the architecture of her new acquaintance with his hazel green eyes, his similar Schaeduwe caramel-coloured skin, and his wavy dirty brown hair messily flowing in the breeze upon the back of his shoulders. She bites her bottom lip and determines that when the magical ancestors decided to divulge the creation of Shadow Walkers to the Realm, they really knew what they were doing when mixing the genetic pool.
“And Broghen, this is Rachael—an over-opinionated, insufferable minx.”
Rachael’s mouth drops just for a second as the words sink in and she sends a death glare toward Shane but quickly recovers, tossing his wicked words over her shoulder and smiles with intention at Broghen just the same.
Gabrian cannot help but laugh at Rachael’s reaction to Shane’s introduction. It was a bit over the top but in his words, she knows Rachael has found a new friend that will no doubt drive her over the edge at some point, in a good way.
Shane brushes past Rachael, noogying her on the way by, and slides in behind Gabrian. His face beams with pride as he slips his fingers into hers and glances down at her lovingly—tracing his free fingers over the inside of her wrist upon her stone. He returns his focus to his friend and announces with importance, the significance of her presence. “And this is Gabrian.”
Broghen’s soft warm eyes meet Gabrian’s uncertain gaze, immediately settling her insides with his welcoming smile. She is not sure how they all do it but the kind of magic the Schaeduwe possess is lethal. Once they set their mind to making you see them, they will not be denied. It also makes their abnormal ability to take up space seem less intimidating, which does not really concern Gabrian—having been raised by Jarrison and Sarapheane, it gives her a sense of safety to be around them.
He steps forward and extends his large mitt of a hand toward Gabrian and she instinctively mirrors his movements, accepting his comradery—her fingers swallowed up entirely within his gentle grip. She thought Orroryn and Shane were large structures but they have nothing on Broghen. Her mind races to the thought of Easter Island and the legend of giants, wondering if maybe the Schaeduwe Fellowship were once the giants that had roamed this Earth so many years ago.
“It’s nice to meet you, Gabrian.”
She shakes her head to clear her thoughts and smiles, his deep accented words sung sweetly upon her ears. “It’s nice to meet you too.”
“It’s about time someone made him an honest man,” he teases with a wink, releasing her tiny hand and tapping a light finger on her wrist where the Azurite stone now resides.
“Hey now, none of that.” Shane growls at the large man towering over them all. “I have been nothing but a gentleman my entire life.”
Broghen rolls his eyes and whips out his arm in a light punch to Shane’s shoulder. “Sure you have, kid.” His eyes drop to Gabrian’s, and he winks at her. “I think they broke the gentleman mold after they made him.”
“Yah, you are one to talk. Ashen must have nearly killed herself whipping you into shape.”
Broghen’s deep belly laugh erupts as he pulls out the black sunglasses tucked in his front pocket of the plaid flannel shirt and slips them on to shade his hazel eyes. “Touché my friend.”
Rachael can physically feel her bubble burst around her—once again a possible handsome prospect is no longer viable. She sighs in her brief moment of mourning to this fact and decreases her level of flirtatiousness, resigning to go back to her regular feisty sarcastic self. There is no victory to be won here and grumbles to herself, What is it with my luck—always a bridesmaid but never an opportunity to become a bride?
Gabrian idles up to her and whispers, “Maybe Shadow Walkers are not in the cards, you know how they work.”
“I know but they are so bloody hot. It is hard not to notice.”
“Yeah, I know,” Gabrian concedes to her argument and her eyes lift, resting on her own heart’s desire, unable to find a plausible statement to disagree with her.
“All right, enough of all this standing around,” Broghen whoops, rubbing his hands together briskly. “I have a bowl of steak marinating in my secret recipe waiting for me to get back to it. Let’s take a ride.”
“Sounds good to me,” Shane cheers, giving Gabrian a quick hug before herding her toward the little green beetle. “Where are your wheels?”
“I don’t have any. I thought I would hitch a ride with you guys—just easier that way.”
Gabrian and Rachael look at each other with pursed lips and then halt their approach as they size up the two mountains that will be housed within their means of transportation.
“Um, Shane…”
He waves his hand at her and shakes his head. “Don’t worry, we’ll fit.”
Rachael and Gabrian look at each other and shrug their shoulders. “It will be fine. You have seen how many clowns can fit into those cars.”
“Yes, but they aren’t clowns.”
“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” Rachael teases, wrapping her arm around Gabrian’s waist to pull her near. Gabrian tenses for a moment at the closeness and holds her breath while Rachael’s light dances unconcerned around them.
“I suppose you have a point,” she
concurs and eases out a smile, imagining the circus act about to take place.
“I will just sit back with you and they can duke it out in the front.”
A wave of panic electrocutes Gabrian’s nerves at the thought of being confined in the backseat, surrounded by Rachael’s aura. “Shane, are you sure we can…”
“Don’t worry, Mademoiselle Gabrian, our journey will be short. It is no more than five minutes away. I am sure I can endure the suffering of being in close quarters with the likes of this guy for that long.”
Gabrian forces her mouth to turn up at the edges in the eyes of the large gentle creature before her. It is not his suffering she is worried about, it is her own. Surely, she can control the cravings of her inner demon for that long. Right?
Right.
26
ICE QUEEN
Somewhere between the nonstop banter from the front seat and the warm wash of wind Gabrian insisted on in the backseat, they make it to their final destination. Though she still is not sure how they all managed to fit, Rachael was right about being able to squish all the clowns in the car, but it is definitely a work of pure physical magic. The two hulking beings manage to crush themselves together into the front half of the vehicle with not an inch to spare between their shoulders, only having to readjust the seat positions to do it while Gabrian and Rachael sit relatively comfortable in the back.
Gabrian rides with her head nearly hanging out of the window all the way to ensure her temptations do not get out of hand. And it works. She also has a clear view of the ambience that surrounds their temporary home for the next few weeks.
“Are you from here?” Gabrian hears Rachael ask from inside the car.
“I am, yes. I was born here but my parents are originally from the old country—from France,” Broghen offers from the front seat, peeking over his shoulder. “They immigrated here many years ago.”
“Are they still here?”
“No. They decided that they wanted to go back to live within the Veil,” he says, tightening the hair band around his lengthy locks to ensure they remain in place. “They had begun to get along in their years and inside the Veil, time and the lingering magic that resides there, is a little more forgiving on those advancing in age.”
“Oh,” Rachael gasps, feeling sorry for Broghen, knowing how time revolves so rapidly between the two worlds.
Broghen’s laughter fills the car with the kind of joyous energy that causes others to smile with him. “Trust me—there is no need to frown, little one. They spent loads of time here amongst the mixed races of the Realm. Nearly 600 years of enjoying Earth’s simplicities is pretty good, I would say. They decided to spend their retirement taking in the other side of their species.” He ends with a wink and a dimpled grin. “Well, here we are.”
The right turn of the car takes them onto a long driveway that looks as if it is snow-covered. It is the middle of summer, so truly that was not the case, but the road stands out clear as day due to what Gabrian assumes are millions and millions of deliberately set white pebbles and stones upon the top of darkened earth beneath, covering all of it. The car slows just long enough for Broghen to reach into his pocket and press a button on a key chain then promptly return it to its hiding spot. A large metal bar lifts before the car and they proceed toward the homestead of the Elder of Isa.
Gabrian leans her head out the window a little more to get a better look.
The daffodil-crested entrance is followed with young pink and white rosebushes lined all the way down the driveway and up to the house which is large but not ridiculously big. It is modestly covered with weathered wooden shingles, much like houses along the Maine coast line. The appearance of an upper level—walled in on adjacent sides by mostly glass panes—gives way to the panoramic view of the ocean behind it. The house curves around to the right where the white-stoned drive ends and is replaced with a paved surface. On their immediate left is a shed, a building that seems to be filled with lawn equipment and yard tools. They slowly pass it by and stop in front of the red door—the entryway of Ashen’s home.
Once the car stops, Gabrian jumps out and closes the back door behind her as the others slowly peel themselves out of the bug’s innards. Noticing her reflection in the window, she is horrified. Hanging her head out of the window may have kept her from suffering in the car but it didn’t do much for her appearance. Her long, dark tangles of hair are exactly that, tangles—a wild mess of them.
Hearing new and more refined thoughts catch her mind’s attention, she knows that her new mentor is on her way out to greet them this very moment. Gabrian struggles to calm her chaotic mess of hair but not being able to win against nature’s elaborate touches to her mop, she pulls the long dark strands together and twists them hastily to the top of her head, tying them loosely with the band worn religiously around her left wrist. She will deal with untangling them later. Glancing down at her bent reflection one more time, she hears the latch on the front door click, somewhat satisfied with the captured mess above her head and turns to greet her host.
Gabrian strains her eyes, trying to recognize the tall and undeniable beauty that stands within the arches of her abode. Instead of the expected exquisite, well-groomed attire that she had become accustomed to of the well-respected Elder of Isa, she is greeted with a bright cheery grin, accompanied by a pair of loose jean overalls, a messy collaboration of white braided tassels all tied back with a pastel blue bandana, and an aura that seems more like a white snowy blizzard that haphazardly flows in no real direction.
The sight of the woman sends a painful lurch through Gabrian’s chest—not because of what she looks like but because of who she resembles. Even though the colour of the hair is light, not dark, and the skin resembles milk chocolate rather than the smooth colour of caramel, the look of the tumbled down relaxed-fit clothing of an artistic mind tears at Gabrian’s soul. Her arms ache, longing to reach out and hold her but she wills them to remain still. The mirage of her mother fades behind the wetness forming across the lower lid of her sight and the sweet welcoming words from a less familiar voice reaches out.
“Sorry I wasn’t able to meet you when you hit town. I had some work I needed to finish up but I am glad to see Broghen managed to get you all here in one piece,” she teases, giving the large mountain of a man a quick wink and wrinkles up the bridge of her nose at him, lightly draping her fingers over his bicep as she steps by him.
Gabrian’s eyes blink rapidly, trying to push away the moment of despair. She pulls herself back from the saddened daydream of missing her mother and stumbles forward toward her approaching host wearing a forced smile. “Yes, he did. Thank you for sending him.”
“But I am not quite sure the car is as appreciative of his deliverance,” Shane spits out, leaning on his arms atop of the green bug. “I think we may have to get the shocks checked before we head back to Maine.”
“Hey now, is that any way to talk about the man who is cooking you lunch?” Broghen chuckles, stepping up on his toes, and sweeps his arm across the top of the roof, cuffing the side of Shane’s head.
“All right you two, enough horseplay for now. You can mess around later,” Ashen scolds, walking to the front of the car. “Let’s get the luggage inside before you tear this poor girl’s vehicle apart.”
“Yes, dear,” the two men echo simultaneously while Shane leans over the hood and swipes Broghen across the ears in retaliation.
“We will let you all get settled in and cleaned up, and then we shall sit down and get some food in you.” Ashen grabs at whatever suitcases she can reach from within the trunk and strides toward the house. “I am sure you all must be starving.”
Gabrian’s pupils flare in response to her words. The thoughts of some raw flesh does sound appealing to her and it might help drown out the constant gnawing inside her skull that keeps telling her she needs to feed. She nods in concurrence and grabs the small blue plaid suitcase filled ridiculously full of her clothes in absence of knowing how long s
he will be here. Marching around the side of the car, she pulls free her maroon-coloured backpack from the backseat and heads toward the open front door, following Ashen’s lead.
The inside of the house is modest, decorated with abstract art and small bits of ancient Nordic sculptures accompanied by simple yet comfortable furniture. Everything is open and unconstrained by barriers and walls—even the kitchen is visible except for the large island that hovers within arms-length of the three main cooking appliances. A large tan L-shaped couch sits in the center of the room, overlooking the backside of the house made entirely of large glass panes. It exposes a majestic blue wall of water that looms halfway up the sky in the distance like a serene but moody overlord, one that could swallow them up without mercy at any moment. But it is a most stunning view of peril device as far as the eye could see.
Gabrian idles with her luggage in hand, hypnotized by the water’s luring beauty.
Ashen’s voice breaks through the silent trance as she returns from the hallway to the left. “I wasn’t sure of the sleeping arrangements so I am going to leave that up to you guys,” she says sheepishly, biting her fingers and looking around as if she has misplaced something. “I only have one spare room on the main floor but there is an open loft upstairs I use as my library. It has a large pull out couch that is quite comfortable as well as a large chaise, so…”
“That sounds perfect.” Gabrian jumps at the offer, thinking that it will be the best place for her. Isolating herself away from everyone else might be the most logical choice, just in case she might need a moment of solidarity.
