Chapter 2 Lore
TWO
Lore
I MADE MY way through the crowd, smiling at familiar faces as I edged around families and couples strolling through the square. The closer I got to the wagon, the more my skin prickled with an odd sense of foreboding.
When I finally arrived, there was no one tending to it.
“Hello?”
I peered up at the jars—this close I could clearly make out dried flowers that seemed to be tea and not occult items like eye of newt and preserved dragonfly wings.
I sighed. My imagination had gotten the best of me again.
There were no secret witches or grimoires or spell candles for finding my one true love. No enchanted pendants or rings. I could probably find an herbal mixture to relieve bloating the next time Father made his infamous beans, though.
I turned around, searching for Fable as the crowd surged toward the acrobats.
Fireworks lit up the sky, the sudden crackle and pop making me inhale sharply as I watched the embers rain down, then fade.
I thought of the mountain, that strange feeling of angry gods, and internally slapped myself.
I’d read one too many fantasy books.
The gods were fables meant to keep us in line, the mountain was like any other natural landscape, and I was wasting time being lost to daydreams instead of living in the moment.
I’d taken a step away when a warbled voice spoke behind me.
“Gift for the gifted?”
“Blood and bones!” I spun around, my hand pressed to my heart.
It thrashed like a fish caught on a line.
A tiny woman with silver hair and eyes took my measure. Her face was lined and weathered, matching the sound of her voice.
I placed her roughly between ninety and nine thousand.
An ancient aura settled around her, furthering my suspicion that my mind was working overtime tonight.
She wore a black hooded cloak and looked like she’d been plucked from the pages of a fairy tale. Except she was the wicked poisoned-apple-wielding character sent to make the heroine’s journey an epic disaster.
It was a good thing I’d resisted getting candied apples first.
Every internal instinct I had warned me to run. I tamped them down, not wanting to give in to my sugar-fueled imagination again tonight.
Maybe she was my fairy godmother in disguise.
It took another second to get over my surprise and process what she’d said.
“I’m not magically gifted, but thank you for the offer.”
Magic wasn’t unheard of here, but according to my father’s research and my own curiosity, it had been a long time since someone had wielded anything supernatural.
Feeling terrible, I motioned to the jar with dried petals.
“I would love to buy some tea from you, though.”
Her eyes narrowed as she followed my gaze, her head shaking slightly.
“You don’t want tea, girl. What you want is adventure.” She looked me over again, and I had the oddest feeling she could read my soul. “Are you ready to shed the mundane and live your dreams?”
“Who wouldn’t be?”
“Few want to work for it. And even fewer are brave enough to face their fears first. You think you are?”
If she wanted me to play along, I was game. “Brave enough to face my fears? Definitely, especially if that means I get to live happily ever after.”
“Good. You agree to see this quest through to its end?” she asked.
That escalated rather quickly—from facing my fears to agreeing to a random, mysterious quest—but since this was clearly hypothetical, I nodded. “I agree.”
A distant rumble of thunder shook the ground. I glanced around; there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. The old woman harrumphed.
“Take this. You’ll be needing this to get you on your way.”
With reflexes far faster than should have been possible, her hand shot out and icy fingers closed around my wrist. From her other hand, she dropped something smooth and cold into my palm, then closed my fingers around it.
I almost convinced myself it hummed against my skin.
“Hurry along, now.” She let me go and hobbled back. “He’ll be coming any moment. And forces of change rarely make things easy.”
My brows rose. That didn’t sound ominous at all.
“I’m sorry, but I think you have me confused with—”
“I know precisely who you are, Lore Brimstone. Now, focus on your quest and go.”
I subtly pinched myself to see if I was dreaming, then rubbed at the sore spot on my arm. I was definitely awake and now I’d have a bruise.
The woman looked like she wanted to smack me over the head, but her attention abruptly shifted behind me, her eyes widening.
“Who are you?” I asked.
She motioned to a silver pin I hadn’t noticed on her cloak.
If she expected me to recognize the sigil, she would be sorely disappointed. It looked like a sun wedged between two crescent moons that faced outward on either side. A sword speared down the center of the sun.
Something about it felt a little menacing.
“A friend.”
Before I could comment on it, her gaze grew distant before snapping back into focus.
“He’s here. And he’s ready to begin.”
Her voice fell to a whisper so low I almost missed what she’d said.
If it wasn’t for the fine hair rising along my neck, I would have thought I’d imagined it.
“Begin? I thought the quest was hypothetical. I don’t really want to—”
Heat rolled along my spine, like someone had locked me in their sights and was taking their time drinking me in.
Which was absolutely out of the question.
I slowly twisted in place, following that strange sensation if only to prove myself wrong.
My gaze scanned the crowd—acrobats, families, sugary treats, fire-breathers, the same as before. On second thought, that wasn’t quite right.
People were milling about with frothy mugs of ale now. I made a mental note to snag two before I met Fable at the card reader.
There wasn’t anything…
All at once I knew exactly who the old woman meant.
He strode into view, his gait long and confident, looking like the kind of man from generations past. Battle hardened, cold, his emotions locked away behind an impenetrable wall.
A dark cloak billowed out behind him, showing glimpses of the equally dark fighting leathers he wore beneath it.
His hood was drawn low over his face, covering all but his full mouth.
For a moment, all I could do was stare, my attention riveted to the mysterious man.
He had the square jawline given to all leading villains, and irrationally, I wanted to run my fingers over the pale stubble I could just make out.
His shoulders were broad, his hips narrow, and without being too bulky overall, he looked muscular enough to toss a few hundred pounds without breaking a sweat.
I couldn’t even see his features, but there was something about him that made me stop and take notice—as if some long-forgotten instincts kicked on and alerted my brain to a primal need he could fulfill.
He was dangerous but would likely defend those he loved without mercy.
I gave him an appreciative look.
I’d put his talents to use and send him out to collect overdue library books.
I glanced up, wondering if I’d somehow fallen out of the stupid tree and hit every branch on the way down.
The man probably murdered without remorse and had a stash of bones he guarded like an ornery dragon with its treasure.
Only a fool would consider getting on his bad side.
Or even his good side.
He was trouble and not in the fun fictional kind of way. He was the kind of man who had an objective and didn’t stop until he’d reached it. And if someone got in his way, I had little doubt he’d crush them without hesitation.
My heart decided it was a wonderful time to beat twice its speed when he parted the crowd and continued walking as if he owned the road.
Men and women alike paused to watch him pass; even with his face hidden, he exuded raw masculinity mixed with power and animal grace.
He moved with purpose, with singular focus. An apex predator locked onto his prey.
I pitied the unfortunate soul who’d caused his ire.
I was so caught up in that strange intersection of both admiring and fearing him that it took much too long to realize he was coming straight for me.
I staggered back from the force of his attention and shot an accusatory look at the old woman. “Did you steal this pretty rock from that nice lethal-looking gentleman?”
She smiled wickedly. “No. But if I were you, I’d run along now, girl. He’ll take pleasure in the chase.”
“Or the kill.”
Her grin widened. “Same difference.”
“In what universe?”
She didn’t bother to respond.
So much for a fairy godmother; I’d gotten one straight from the bowels of hell.
And she’d sent a devil after me.
The stone in my palm pulsed, the heat unmistakable.
I glanced down—it was glowing.
Except it wasn’t emitting a bright shining light; it was dark and dangerous, with hints of red, like an ember slowly dying in a fire.
Or sparking to life.
Ribbons of shadows suddenly streamed out from it, winding up my arm.
They were oddly warm as they crisscrossed under my long sleeves.
For some inexplicable reason, I’d always imagined shadows being cold. They slithered higher as if amused by my thoughts.
My mind crashed to a halt at that.
Shadows couldn’t understand emotions; that was absurd.
Oh, gods. I must be in shock.
Having read so much, I thought I’d be more prepared to act swiftly if I ever encountered something paranormal. That was sadly untrue when faced with something so beyond any frame of reference.
My brain tried desperately to reason away the unreasonable.
Instead of throwing the stone or screaming or passing out, I watched, unblinking, as I tried to make sense of it all.
There was no way this was real. Rocks didn’t spew out shadows, and old women didn’t send people on quests to achieve their dreams.
And yet I didn’t think I was having a psychotic break… which was probably what everyone who’d experienced one thought too.
The shadows wound themselves tighter, almost like they were feeding off my growing alarm and becoming agitated themselves. The more I tried to calm my nerves, the more my pulse raced and the shadows writhed.
“Holy gods—”