by Kade Cook
“The Veil is thinning, ghosts in the darkness no doubt.”
“Maybe.” Ethan breaths out. “Enough of this chasing shadows, we have more important things to discuss. That is why I am here.”
Kaleb and Ethan make their way toward the edge of the forest, leaving Gabrian alone, lost in her thoughts and still wrapped in her cloak of underbrush. Once she is certain they have gone, she slowly rises and pulls free from her hiding spot, letting out her breath.
Ethan told her she could trust Kaleb, an underlying confession of truths, or so she thought. And now Ethan, obviously undisturbed about Kaleb’s little performance, knows who and what he is. The whirlwind of the day’s events consume her as she slowly creeps back through the forest, following her Elder’s lead. A moment of déjà vu sweeps over her. Once again, she has clearly been left out of the loop of things. Glancing down at her hands, she ponders her own predicament, wondering what other secrets she will discover lying just beneath the surface.
Chapter Fifteen
Lucky Charms
Clear of the woods and back on the road heading home, Gabrian’s trek is more like the runs she has come to love. Smooth, pacifying all the demons in her head, and giving her the time to sort through all the information with a calm and clear head, picking out what matters most to attend to. And right now, Gabrian’s stomach needs addressing. Briskly making her way back up the gravel driveway to the cottage, she bounds through the door. She pulls on the fridge handle, revealing its innards, and frowns. Her stomach gurgles and growls in concurrence with her findings.
Bottles and bottles of broth—a barren wasteland is what it is. She eyes a white jug of milk on the side door and twists it open, raises it to her lips, and gulps down half of what remains. Swiping the dribbles on her mouth with the back of her arm, she turns and walks toward the cupboard, letting the fridge door slam shut in her absence as she searches for substance.
Setting the milk on the counter, Gabrian lowers to rifle through the empty hollows below. “What on Earth did I eat?” she grumbles, finding nothing but baggies, plastic wrap, and an old box of crackers staring at her mockingly.
Rising back to her feet, she leans on the cupboard and gazes out across the room. A flicker of light catches her eye. Tynan’s outside lamp of the guest house reflects through the side door. Gabrian’s lips curl in a devious sneer as she glances back down at her half-empty jug of milk, her stomach growling in approval. “I wonder—”
Gathering up her jug, she hurries to the side door and bounds across the yard toward her uncle’s abode. Twisting the knob on the door, she frowns. “Bugger, locked.”
Her eyes glance at her thwarted hands and her eyes narrow. Pursing her lips, she wiggles her fingers, mischievously curious. “Hmm.” She pushes up her sleeve and eyes the door. “I must believe it to see it, eh?” she murmurs and narrows her eyes, focusing on the surface of her flesh, imagining it turning to bended air as it had in the forest. She has breathed water, disappeared off of the Elders’ intense and impenetrable radar—surely, she can do this.
Believe, she hums to herself, willing her body to obey.
And so it does.
The pink and smoothen flesh on her newly healed hands wavers in its solidity, fading to dust and then nothing at all. Gabrian’s lips curl, her mood giddy, and her stomach growls in her victory as she inches what is left of her arm forward through the wooden door, stopping at the elbow, and twists. Biting her lip, she closes one eye, concentrating on her mission.
“Come on now, just a little more,” she says to no one, leaning her head against the barrier and with a low click, her mission is complete. Pulling her arm back from the door, the flesh floods back into its proper form on her hands, and she grabs the knob once more, twisting it. The door releases and swings inward.
“Wicked!” She cloaks her flesh again and pulls it back through the door, picking up the milk from the door step, and opens the door, hoping Uncle Ty will not mind the necessary intrusion. Even though she may have changed and shifted into someone new, she is certain he had not. Or at least she is counting on it, and so is her stomach, as she waltzes through the door, closing it behind her.
***
With a heart filled with despair—his mind spinning to gather all the places Gabrian might be and all the things that may have gone wrong—Tynan emerges from the shadows of Gabrian’s room in a desperate effort of starting the search over again, hoping he can find a clue as to where to begin.
He had called on the Elders to help him expand the search. He visited Ethan, hoping she had come to him or Kaleb, but neither of them had any idea that she was missing. With everyone on the lookout for her, searching this world and within the grips of Magik, Tynan wants to start over. There must be something he had overlooked, something in the broken glass and the traces of blood he had found in the bathroom.
Finding nothing different, he descends to the kitchen. The doors on the cupboard are pulled open and the red top of the milk container stands out like a beacon on the countertop. His eyes widen, surveying for anything and everything. A draft sweeps through the room and tickles him with a hint he is getting warmer when he notices the open sliding door in the living room. He skirts to the edge of the door and steps out on the deck, only to see the light of his own home glaring at him. His eyes narrow and he rushes toward it, knowing the answer lies within.
Appearing on the other side of his kitchen door, Tynan’s heart stops. His eyes are playing a nasty trick on him. Perched on top of his kitchen counter is the mirage of a hooded girl holding tightly to one of his bowls. Beside her sits the missing milk and his family-sized box of magically delicious cereal.
His face, sunken and drawn, Tynan rubs his eyes, unsure to trust the vision he is being shown. His heart nearly chokes him in his throat.
“Please, don’t be mad. I got hungry and all I had in my cupboards were stale crackers,” Gabrian squeaks out, slurping another spoonful of colourful cereal into her grinning mouth.
Slowly crossing the room, his steps measured and precise, Tynan stares at the girl. “Gabe, is that you?”
“Of course it’s me. Who else knows you have a giant stash of Leprechaun cereal hidden away?”
He sets his gloves down on the edge of the cupboard and circles in front of her, cautious this may be a trick of Magik, a mirage invoked by his sadness. He had seen this before, when Sarapheane and Jarrison died. His heart had been so badly destroyed that his mind manifested their presence, speaking within his misery of their loss.
“Stop looking at me like that, you are creeping me out.” She waves her spooned hand and wrinkles her beautifully-healed face at him.
He responds reflexively, not really listening, and closes the gap between them. “Like what?”
“Well, creepy… distrustful and distant,” she crunches out between mouthfuls of cereal. She stops chewing for a moment and purses her lips. “Though I have to admit it beats the depressing pity party stares you had going on.”
“I don’t understand,” he says, standing directly before her, and his eyes glisten. His hands tremble as they reach out to touch her face. “What happened to you?”
Tynan’s other hand cups the side of her face. Looking her deep in the eyes, he searches for a sign, a truth that she is really who she says she is. She looks so different from the last time he saw her—a fragile shell of a soul merely melded together by flesh and bone, breakable and near death.
He does not fight the waterworks now spilling across his cheeks, seeing her light within the icy blue irises he has watched for so many years. His hands gather at the back of her head, clutching her toque still wound on her scalp. He pulls it free.
Gabrian’s eyes shoot to the toque in his hand and shrugs. Feeling the warm graze of her uncle’s gentle hands over the fuzz of new growth covering the once scarred tissue, she smiles. “Yeah, it is a work in progress.”
Tynan’s vision is completely blurred. His hands lunge out and surround Gabrian, pulling her in close and em
bracing her. A pang of sorrow twists in her chest, feeling the fragility of this tough guardian crumbling all around her. She lays her head on his shoulder and lets him unleash some of the suffering that has been held so tightly and mumbles out her playful discontent with being crushed. “Hey, careful. You are gonna spill my snacks.”
Chapter Sixteen
Fairy Tales and Secrets
With her belly full, and her body healed but tired, Gabrian stands before her mirror. Steam from the warm shower casts a cloudy mist around her. She stares at the girl before her, not the monster who lived there only hours before. Sliding her hand across the patch work of hair clinging to her scalp, she crinkles her nose and pulls open the drawer below.
She pulls out a small pair of scissors and pinches them in her fingers, eyes grazing her reflection. “Hmm, nope.” Unhappy with her find, she drops them back in the drawer and marches toward the door, making a quick exit. In a flash, she returns, eyes determined and hair clippers in hand. Gabrian plugs the cord into the wall and flicks the switch on.
The low buzz sings with the rushing water of the shower and she grins. Pulling the clipper through the mess of straggling tangles, she shears them away. One by one, they fall to the floor until all that is left are bristles, mere ghosts of the ebony locks that once remained.
She rubs her hand over the soft prickles and smiles. “Much better.”
Gathering the mess into the garbage bin, she peels off her jogging clothes and lets them drop to the floor then steps into the hot streaming water. Gabrian releases a moan, rejoicing in the warm splendor of the spray, and soaks it all in, each droplet filled with heavenly energy as soon as it touches her skin.
Showering will never be the same again.
Hesitantly leaving the intoxicating clutch of the shower behind, Gabrian dries off and searches for her nightclothes. Tired but chipper, she pulls them on. No aches, pains, or required assistance necessary to dress and she smiles, grateful for her miracle, grateful for Magik—a blessing she never thought she could ever feel.
Slipping under the covers of her newly-clothed bed and cozying into the pillows, she retrieves a book from her nightstand. It is nearly midnight. The dawn will soon be upon her and tonight, she hopes to find sleep and wake with a rested mind. But the mind does what it does best and drifts over the day’s events, shuttling through images to sort through thoughts shifting from the mirrored monster she was before to the nymph—her secret friend who had helped her believe once more in Magik, and allowed it to grow within her, natural and uninhibited. Gabrian’s lips grow upward in Lyarah’s grace but then flatline on the image of Kaleb staring her down with those golden lethal eyes. Her body shudders, remembering the power he exuded in his transformation.
After finishing her third bowl of cereal, she tried to explain to her uncle what she could about the last twelve hours from the darkest hour in her life to the moment he found her on his cupboard. She had to be creative in her retelling, unsure of how he would react to knowing the keeper of Erebus came to visit her in her bathroom or that she went swimming with a new friend who just happened to be a mythical nymph. Oh and wait—the Elder who rules over the Eorden Realm just happens to be a forbidden Alakai Ancient which were hunted down to extinction.
She had snuck in an inquiry about the legends of the Ancients, all of which only live and breathe within whispered words of fairy tales dwelling on papered pages, the only trace of their past were in books, their existence bound by thread and their undoing bled in ink. They were no secret to anyone from the Realm, especially Tynan, but he assured her they had long passed. All of them had been hunted, exterminated by humans and Realmsfolk alike. Their strange abilities, sometimes feral and misunderstood, reaped fear in the people so many centuries ago.
In a sense, Gabrian thought, they were like Madorrah—a legend—but Gabrian knows Madorrah is very much alive and apparently so were the ancient Alakai.
Tynan’s questions probe into why she wants to know so much about them and it strikes a painful sting in her soul that she cannot explain. Taking that as a sign that these were not her secrets to share, Gabrian brushed away their strange importance as only a dream she had the night before. Tynan, just grateful for her reappearance, allowed her that and paid it no mind, continuing to dote on her without a second thought.
No, maybe it was best for now if she left those little tidbits for another day once he has recovered. Lost in the day’s thoughts, she does not hear her uncle breach the shadows of her doorway until his soft voice does. “May I come in?” he whispers, not wanting to scare her when he notices her clutching a book in her lap.
Gabrian blinks, pulling back from her thoughts, and focuses on the present, smiling. Tynan’s hulking form stands meekly in the doorway, holding a glass of water in one hand and a bowl of cut grapes in his other. “You know you don’t have to wait on me anymore. I am quite capable of doing things for myself now.”
“I know, but I am still your family.” He grins, entering the room and setting down the offering on her nightstand. “And family takes care of each other.”
Gabrian nods, letting him have his soft moment, and treasures this show of love he has for her. This giant man, so soft and kind, is a mirror of her adopted parent’s devotion toward her. She reaches out to touch his arm. “Yes, we do.”
“I know that I am not of your blood but I have lived a long life and have learned that family is a bond built not by blood, but by the heart,” Tynan says, taking her small hand into his own. He looks down on her face, his emotions getting the best of him as his eyes dew. “I have watched over you since the day Jarrison and Sarapheane took you in their arms and claimed you as their own, dedicating their lives to cradle you in a world built of nothing but love and adorement. They were not alone in their devotion.”
His lips tremble as he inhales a breath, and Gabrian mirrors him. His sanded voice whispers directly to her heart. Their loss is still a heavy sadness on both of them. “You may not be linked to the blood running through my veins, but you are the child chosen to linger in my heart.” He smiles at her, his cheeks rising to pinch the corners of his eyes and showing the gathered wetness escaping down the edges of his shadowed jawline. “And that is family. You are my family.”
Her eyes glaze over and her mouth twists in an awkwardly painful smile. The taste of salt on her lips is strong as tears run over them. Gabrian pulls hard at the man before her and he lets her defeat him, dropping to his knees and lowering over her to sit on her bed. She wraps her arms, as best she can, around his wide shoulders and cradles him close. He is so fragile in her arms.
They are what life made them, but it is the beauty of their hearts that made them who they are.
Chapter Seventeen
Juicy Details
Settling into his cell life, Cimmerian has no issue about serving his time. The sooner he comes to terms with it, the faster he can focus on getting out and taking care of his daughter. She is safe and in good hands. All he has to do is bide his time and stay away from any riffraff that might jeopardize any possibility of early release.
“All settled in, nice and comfy, I see.”
Cimmerian’s heart drops and he sucks in a breath, facing him. They were friends once. It should not be so hard to deal with him on the inside of the Hollows. “Yes, quite. How are you dealing, Caspyous?”
“Couldn’t be better.” He snickers, landing himself on the bed beside Cimmerian. Caspyous leans against the wall and folds his hands behind his head.
Raising his brow, the Elder reaches for the book crumpled beneath his visitor and pulls it out from under him, trying to press the forced creases from the pages with his hands. “That is good to hear.”
He feels the tension and anxiety in the man beside him. It is a rumbling of darkness that scratches to break loose. “So, how did it feel?”
Placing the book on the shelf, Cimmerian turns to Caspyous, frowning. “Sorry, how did what feel?”
“Ah, come on, you know what I am talki
ng about.” A crazed look creeps over Caspyous’ face, eyes dilating and his mouth nearly watering as he speaks. He glances around the opening of the cell as if to make sure no one is near.
“No, I am sorry. I have no idea what you are going on about.”
“You know, when you killed her.” An eerie grin grows on his lips. It is as if he had won first place in a race and could not be more pleased to retell the tale. “Was it exciting? Did she scream?”
Cimmerian’s stomach turns at the lust in his voice, his eagerness to know exactly how the cruelty had gone down. “No, she didn’t scream, and no, there was no joy in the loss of her life.” He rises from the bed, eager to get away from such a fiendish soul. Even Adrinn did not emit this much evil and darkness during their encounters. “What is wrong with you?”
“It’s alright,” he says, winking his eye at Cimmerian, and unfolds his hands. “I get it. You still have some hope they will let you out of here.” He rises from the bed and takes his place beside the Elder, glancing down the corridor filled with cells. “You know where to find me when you realize that might not happen. Trust me, it will feel good to get all the juicy, gory details out. Sharing is caring, you know. See yah around the cell block,” Caspyous hums, flicking his brow and claps the Elder on the back before strutting away.
Cimmerian decides this man does not need to know that Gabrian is still somewhat alive nor does he need to know that the title of Elder to Derkaz was not stripped from him, unlike his own. Caspyous’ mind is darker and more twisted than he could ever imagine and he wonders about the dark things he is capable of. In here, it may be in his best interest to keep on his good side if he ever plans to leave alive.
