by L. R. W. Lee
“Your pants.” Harpoc waves a finger at the wet fabric, and the next thing I know they’re dry.
“Thank you.”
He dips his head, then heads for the back of the platform. “I thought we’d start with you showing me how well you can control your magic.”
I nod, liking his idea of relocating where the platform’s dry. I follow, dropping the backpack by a post of the back rail. Hopefully the dryness will squash any power Grace thinks she has.
I push up my hoodie’s sleeves, then standing maybe ten feet from Harpoc, and equidistant to the rail behind me, I pull my ring off. A dark wisp escapes as I slip it in my pocket, but I quickly draw the shadow back in.
“Nuria said you ran into trouble directing your magic.”
I laugh, rubbing the spot on my forehead where I crashed and burned into the ceiling. “I ran into trouble, huh? That’s really funny. You’re the god of understatement as well as secrets.”
His eyes dance. At least he’s gotten over being pissed with secret magic on my behalf. “Show me what you can do.”
I brush my braid over a shoulder, then plant my feet shoulder distance apart, turning my palms up, and inhale deeply, remembering Nuria’s words, “Command it. Tell it who’s boss. It doesn’t take kindly to suggestion.”
Boy, did I learn that.
I release more magic until it drifts lazily around me and stretches around Harpoc. My hoodie and pants are thicker than my workout clothes so it doesn’t feel quite as seductive, but my imagination bridges that gap.
Oh yeah, I’m definitely feeling it.
I can’t hide a grin, and I know from Harpoc’s expression, he knows what’s going on in my head.
No one’s complaining.
Pe… ell…, my inner minion whines. Well, no one but her.
“Where do you want me to send it?”
“Wherever you like.”
“Okay, I’ll send it over there.” I point at a boulder near the shoreline, just on the other side of the far handrail.
Harpoc nods.
“Okay, secret magic, it’s just you and me.” I figure if I’m going to get good at this, I ought to form a relationship with it. Perhaps it’ll mind better. It’s worth a try.
Harpoc chuckles, shucking off his jacket and hanging it on the rail above the pack.
“I command you, go over there.” There’s firmness in my voice, and I point because I’m not messing around.
Like the first time I succeeded in directing them, the shadows slowly drift toward the far side of the platform. ‘Slowly’ being the operative word.
Come on, get a move on.
They’re frustrating with their willfulness.
“Let’s go. Move it.” My voice rises.
The imperative gets them moving a tiny bit faster but still not fast enough to suit me.
“I command you to move post haste… above that rock.” I won’t forget to include the “where,” ever again.
A crash, then the sound of splintering wood rises a second later.
My shadows are swirling in a dense ball exactly where I commanded, but they took out the far corner post of the platform along with the rails.
I grimace. “Oops.”
Harpoc snorts. “Not half bad. You’ll want to forbid it from exacting damage to anything it touches, in the future.”
The post and railing reassemble themselves, good as new, a second later.
“Nice. I hope I’ll be able to do that someday.” I watch my magic swirl. “It seems like there’s a lot you have to tell it to do it right. How do you manage to remember all the parameters every time you use it?”
“It gets easier with practice.”
“I hope so. What else should I specify when I command it?”
“You can tell it almost anything, how thick it should be; how fast it should swirl; as you saw, how quickly to move. Whatever will assist you in accomplishing what you’re after. Think of it as clay to be molded.”
I bob my head, understanding but not.
I strip down to my long-sleeve gray T-shirt, putting my hoodie on top of Harpoc’s jacket because I’m working up a sweat.
Over the next couple hours, I get more of the gist of directing my swirling ball of magic as I try a bunch of variations. I have it enter the gorge and kiss the moss wall, dip down in the water and create a spray, brush the tops of palm trees on shore without making any fronds fall, and more.
Secret magic is actually kind of fun when you’re not worried it’ll kill you.
I’m panting and hungry when Harpoc calls an end to our session. I recall my shadows and replace my ring.
“You did well,” he says, squatting. He hands me a water bottle from the backpack, then grabs one for himself, and I collapse to the deck and lean against the post.
“I feel like I understand how to control it a little better.”
“I can tell. You’re more confident.” He sits down beside me.
“Will you teach me how to tripskip next?” I run the back of my wrist across my forehead.
A corner of his mouth hitches. “You don’t want to try forming wings first?”
I laugh. He knows I enjoy the closeness of flying in his arms—I’d rather put learning to fly last in my curriculum. I take a sip of water, my cheeks warming.
He leans over and nudges me with an elbow. “I enjoy holding you, my little harpy.” It’s a seductive whisper, and my stomach flutters.
“Is this part of knowing the real you?”
He grins. “It is. I’d never tell the Core that.”
I nearly spray my mouthful of water.
“Ready for lunch?” Harpoc asks a few minutes later, pulling a package from the backpack.
But just as I take a bite from my sandwich, a black-uniformed female appears out of nowhere, in the middle of the platform, making me jump.
Chapter Twenty-Four
I cough and sputter. Damn, Aura, way to give me a heart attack.
She, he, it… whatever, promised to announce her arrival before appearing, going forward. I know that was for home, not out in the wilds… but still. She made me feel exposed the last time she showed up unannounced, and honestly, I’m not excited to see her again.
“Harp, sorry to interrupt.” The sun glints off her black boots as she strides over, stopping before us. She clasps her hands behind her back. “I just discovered another village in the Twilight Zone burned to the ground.”
The Twilight Zone? Seriously? I’ve seen reruns of the old TV show. They always leave me on edge. But a village burned to the ground? That qualifies as the Twilight Zone all right, and my stomach tenses.
“Which one?”
“Drystrand.”
Harpoc went to check out a similar situation two days ago, when I was pissed with him for upending my world, but he hadn’t learned much. He believes it’s the result of a leaked secret.
“Survivors?” Harpoc asks.
Aura shakes her head, making some of her now-long black hair fall over a shoulder.
A shiver runs up my back.
Harpoc’s body stiffens beside me, and he’s up in an instant, striding toward her, lunch forgotten. “Any similarities?”
Aura smiles. “It’s why I chose to disturb you. I sensed a disturbance in secret magic. I presume you haven’t, or you would have alerted me.”
“I did not.” He frowns.
“Same as before,” Aura says, shaking her head.
They share a long look that communicates the direness of the situation, and my stomach clenches.
I quickly pack up our lunch, put my hoodie back on, shoulder the pack, and grab Harpoc’s jacket from the rail because I know we’re headed to the Twilight Zone ASAP to check it out.
“Pell—” Harpoc smiles when he sees I’m one step ahead. I hand him his jacket and stuff my ring in a pocket because we’ll tripskip. I already know it.
“We’ll meet you there.”
Aura vanishes the same way she appeared, without so much as a swirl o
f darkness, and I step to Harpoc’s side.
“You sure you want to go?” he asks.
I give him a disbelieving look. “I’m here to help you solve this leak, and that’s exactly what I mean to do.” My personal issues with secret magic aside, I want to help him take care of the empire he’s responsible for.
He smiles, kisses the top of my head, and pulls me closer. “Thank you.”
Darkness devours us the next minute.
It’s probably three or four minutes, and my feet touch solid ground, then the world comes into focus. Or rather, I’d like it to come into focus, except everywhere I look, everything’s gray.
Twilight Zone indeed.
The cloud-pocked sky is pewter with dusk, the furrowed field behind us is dark, and the dense forest on the other side of the town ahead feels forbidding. A musky-with-burnt scent fills my nose, and birds caw as they fly in dense, flock circles above us.
It’s a huge contrast to the bright and cheery sunshine we just left, and I’m not sure what to make of it.
A few wisps of my magic escape as I woolgather so I draw them back in and slip my ring back on so I don’t have to think about it.
Harpoc leans over. “Welcome to the Twilight Zone. It’s like this all day, every day.”
I tear my eyes away from the scenery and look up at him. “Seriously?”
This place must be like Greenland in the winter or Antarctica in summer, perpetually dim. No thanks. Here I thought Greece’s cold and rain was bad.
“Seriously. It’s the most northern part of the empire. This village sits on our border with Glass.”
Aura materializes to his right, cutting off anything else he might add. She’s changed—not sure that’s the proper term for a shadow being when she swaps clothes, but I’ll go with it for lack of anything better—into a peasant getup of sorts with threadbare shawl, a ratty-looking dress, and worn sandals. Her hair—currently salt-and-pepper—is messier than I’ve seen it.
If there’s no one left, I’m confused why she bothered to change, but whatever.
Aura nods at the blackened devastation ahead.
Seems we landed at the edge of what used to be a modest village, and the skeletal remains of its charred main street stretch out before us. She’s right, it doesn’t look like anyone survived.
“Any clues as to what caused it?” Harpoc asks.
“My investigation was preliminary before hailing you.”
I expect her to go on, but that’s all she says before starting down the scorched street.
She’s short and to the point, if nothing else. I’m not sure what I think of it.
The smell of char intensifies as we stride forward, and with it, a sense of dread fills me because whoever lived here didn’t have a chance against who or whatever did this. It looks like a flame thrower torched everything in sight.
“Aura, you said you investigated when you ‘sensed’ a disturbance in secret magic?” I hitch up the backpack that’s slipping down my shoulder.
“Yes, that’s right.” Aura shakes her head, shoulders bowed, as she takes in the destruction.
“What does that mean?”
A corner of Harpoc’s mouth hitches. He understands and trusts her when she says she sensed something, but I’d like to be filled in on this “sensing” business, if he doesn’t mind.
“Exactly that. I sensed a disturbance in secret magic.”
She’s not telling me anything, so I press. “But what did it feel like?”
“The disturbance?”
“Yes. Is it like getting a case of the hiccups?”
She furrows her brows.
“I’m not sure she’s ever experienced the hiccups.” Harpoc’s smiling like he anticipated her response.
“Okay, then is it like getting goose bumps?”
Aura again gives me a questioning look.
Harpoc’s grinning, and I’m ready to whack him. “A shadow shifter doesn’t experience sensations the same as you and I.”
Aura bobs her head. “Yes, exactly. Thank you.”
It’s clear she thinks that’s the end of my questioning, but I’m just getting started as we pass an empty lot between charred buildings.
“Why does the ‘disturbance’ you sensed mean it’s another leaked secret?”
She leans forward so she can see me around Harpoc as we continue down the main street, passing what looks to have been a store. “Not another leak, the same.”
The same? Is devastation like this, absent the char, what might have happened if Harpoc and I hadn’t intervened with the sphinx and Zephyr?
“The burn patterns are similar to those at Kilyard, two days ago, and Kilyard is only ten miles from here. I’m not certain it is the same leak, but if it is, I’m betting we’ll find bones on the other end of town.”
Bones? Not bodies, but bones.
Silence of the Lambs and Hannibal Lector flash through my brain despite having handled my share of old bones. My stomach gurgles, and not in a good way, because it’s clear the bones she’s talking about would be anything but old, from whoever lived here.
If so, it had to be someone or something truly demented that did this. I mean, come on, burning an entire village to the ground is bad enough, but… eating its residents? My body shudders despite the relatively temperate climate.
Aura kicks a stray stone in the path, and it rolls into one of the wheel ruts we’re hopscotching around on dusty main street Drystrand.
Harpoc holds up a hand and stops. He’s been studying the ground, and now he squats and lights one of those bouncy light balls, like he did to illuminate the dark places we visited when searching for a new place to store the scrolls.
“A track.” He points to what looks like a giant cat’s paw print, beside the rut. It’s a front paw print if I guess right. And it’s huge.
Fire, bones, and a big cat. My breathing hitches. Not good, not good at all, because ain’t no way we’re talking charbroiled Fancy Feast or Purina Cat Chow.
Scorched ground starts maybe eight feet away, and the skeleton of another building lays beyond.
“Are there wild cats in these parts?” I throw the question out to either of my companions as I pull on the strap of the backpack.
“No,” Aura says, pulling her threadbare shawl higher up her shoulder. I don’t know her well, but I can’t help wondering if she’s having a few chilling thoughts, too, despite her just-the-facts-Ma’am demeanor.
“Were there cat tracks at Kilyard?” I ask, watching four of Harpoc’s lights float over the burned building’s remains.
“No,” Aura says. “There was a rainstorm that washed away any clues that might have been left, before I sensed the devastation.” There she goes “sensing” again. “Based on what we found, it probably happened three days before I sensed it.”
Harpoc stalks further down the street, then squats again, staring at a mound of droppings.
I wrinkle my brow. We’ve stepped around plenty of fresh as well as aged horse shit—I won’t go into detail about how I classify them—but the fresh ones leave no doubt that whatever happened, happened recently.
But Harpoc’s not starring at a mound of horse dung.
Despite having had plenty of shit in my life, it doesn’t make me an expert in what the poop of every living thing looks like, but as I stop beside him, I see that this shit resembles a huge pile of raisins and a memory way back in the recesses of my brain niggles.
“A goat,” I blurt out.
Aura and Harpoc both give me long looks.
I shrug. “Field trip to a farm growing up.”
Harpoc chuckles. “I happen to agree. I think these are goat droppings.”
“Sure took a big dump.”
Harpoc snorts as I hoist the backpack up again.
We move on, spotting several more partial big cat tracks, beyond which, every time, lays a burned out building.
But something doesn’t make sense. “Harpoc, how are we seeing tracks when it hasn’t rained rece
ntly. I mean, the ground’s dusty.”
“Horse urine,” Aura says, matter-of-factly, stepping over another rut in the road.
My nose wrinkles involuntarily, making Harpoc laugh.
The char smell must mask the urine stink because I haven’t a clue. That’s a lot of horse piss to be able to leave tracks in it.
Without missing a beat, Aura says, “Bull crap, bullshit, horse shit, crapshit, donkey doo-doo, the amount Earth loudly extols the praises of excrement, how can you have a problem with a little equine piss?”
I snort.
But her straight face tells me she’s completely serious, and it makes it all the funnier. Despite Aura’s no frills manner, she’s got a sense of humor that she doesn’t even realize.
She’s not exactly an airhead, she just lacks social graces. Maybe we got off on the wrong foot, and she’s not so bad after all. Maybe she’s an acquired taste, just like me.
Harpoc puts an arm around my shoulder and pulls me to his side, chuckling.
I’m still grossed out by the whole notion, because my once-white sneakers ain’t that no more. “Maybe you can do a little something with my sneakers when we get back?”
He snorts. “I’ll see what I can do.”
We approach an overturned water trough, and Aura beats Harpoc and me to the scene. I’m just relieved I can avoid the horse you-know-what. Despite the water from the trough, I still stick to hopping between dry spots.
What difference? Your sneakers are already filthy, Pell.
I know, but…
Aura points to a pair of big cat paw prints that are whole and complete in the wet soil. But I frown, because where I anticipate the back prints to be, I spot a pair of cloven hoof marks instead.
I’m no farm girl, but between zoos and farm field trips growing up, I’ve seen enough deer and hoofed animals to know that this set of hoof prints is larger than usual, and not by a little.
What in the universe are we dealing with?
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Hey, guys?” I squat beside my find.
Harpoc illuminates the area, and Aura bends to get a closer look.
