Chapter Twenty-Three
Have I mentioned this has been the week from hell?” Jace’s voice drifted toward me in the car’s darkness.
“I still don’t like that you’re coming along on this mission, Kira,” Owen muttered from the driver’s seat as he scanned the empty street before us. “I know why you’re here, but I don’t like that you’re here. You know what I mean?”
We were parked down the street from Sylvia’s shop, gathering our courage. I absently patted Owen on the shoulder while I peered out my window, my heart racing.
“Never mind her. Why am I here? How do I let you talk me into these things?” Jace groaned, his head sticking between our front seats.
“You’re our lookout, Jace,” I said. “What if another portal opens or strange attackers come after us or—”
“You see? That right there is what I’m talking about,” Jace interrupted. “Are you hearing yourself right now? This is some unbelievable shit. This isn’t normal!”
“You can stay here. We’re not forcing you to come,” I said, smiling to myself as I called his bluff. We all knew his complaining was a way to ease tension and lighten the mood while we procrastinated.
“Of course I’m coming,” Jace muttered like he was offended I had even suggested such a thing. Besides Shae, Jace was the most loyal friend I had ever met.
“We’ve waited long enough,” Owen said at last. “Let’s get this over with.” He threaded his fingers through mine and brought my hand to his lips for a quick kiss.
“Do exactly as I say,” he told me for the hundredth time, his eyes staring intently at me in the dark, and I nodded.
Owen took the lead, and we moved in tight formation with me between him and Jace.
Their movements were synchronized, fluid, and silent.
Every deliberate pause was loaded with tension.
Dressed in dark clothing that blended into the night, they stayed low, their eyes continually scanning doorways, alleys, and rooftops.
I tried to imitate their movements as gracefully as possible, but every step I took seemed loud.
I made a mental note to have Owen show me how to move like that for future criminal activities.
With the way our week was going, we’d probably be breaking the law again in no time.
We left Jace in the alley as our lookout and approached the shop’s front door. Owen was efficient as he picked the lock, while I was checked over my shoulder every few seconds.
The lock clicked open, and Owen lay a hand on my waist to keep me close as he stepped across the threshold first.
Inside, the shop was a cavern of shadows and glass.
Moonlight filtered through a stained-glass window to cast red and violet glimmers across dust-covered relics.
Dolls watched us with cracked eyes and a brass clock with no hands continued to tick.
My eyes darted toward the beaded curtain at the back of the shop.
Owen moved like he was one of the shadows, silent and sure, while he disarmed the alarm panel.
I was both impressed and surprised by his burglary skills.
I would have to ask where he had acquired them.
Maybe he could teach me a few things. That reminded me of his plans for my office hours, which led to a rather erotic image of us on my desk…
I startled as Owen gestured for me to follow. Right. The book. I was grateful he couldn’t see my sudden blush in the dark.
We crept to the back of the shop, every creak of the floorboard under our feet like a scream.
I pushed the beads aside and stepped quickly toward the shelf where I had seen Sylvia place the book.
Pulling it down, I marvelled once again at its beauty and how the golden illustration of the Tree of Life on its front cover seemed to come alive against the dark green.
I found Marion’s name on the first page, written in the same flowing script I recognized from her journals.
A History of the Druids
and
Account of the Breaking of the Seal
Written by Dr. Marion Hayes
Before I could turn the page, the book groaned and flared red. A tendril of black smoke drifted from the pages and wailed as it took shape. It floated above the book, growing larger by the second.
“Move!” Owen shoved me behind him, and the book fell to the floor as I lost my grip. He unsheathed his sword and slashed at the shadow, but the sword had no effect.
“It’s not one of the Shadowbane! It’s a spell or something,” I said as the shadow drifted toward us.
“Guess we can confirm Sylvia has magic,” Owen said, sheathing the sword. “We have to go. Now!”
“Not without the book!” I shouted, stepping around him.
With a curse Owen shoved me farther behind him and dove for the book, sliding under the shadow as it reached for him. Just as he grabbed the book, the shadow curled a smoky tendril around his hand. Owen shouted in pain.
Rage filled me. I lashed out, drawing from an ancient power within me that was dark and hungry and not entirely unwelcome.
“Let him go,” I snarled in a voice not my own. Owen’s head snapped to me.
The shadow paused, assessing me. It reached out a tentative tendril, and I let it briefly touch me for confirmation of what we both knew.
I was its master. There was nothing darker than me.
The shadow released Owen and shrunk into a corner of the room in supplication.
“Stay,” I commanded.
Owen jumped to his feet, book in hand, and yanking me toward the beaded curtain.
“Not yet,” I said, and he stopped, his eyes wide.
“Kira, we have to go.”
“It’s okay. It’s under my control now.”
I took the book from him, laid it on the table, and flipped through the pages to find the spell used to create the shadow guard. The shadow waited patiently in the corner. I was dispassionate, removed from my actions, and completely in control of my dark servant.
But I couldn’t find the spell. If it wasn’t in the book, how had Sylvia created the shadow?
“Who created you? Speak,” I ordered, but the shadow just drifted silently in place.
I couldn’t leave it here, and it damn well wasn’t coming with us. There was only one thing to do.
I opened myself up to the darkness in my chest and embraced the rage burning within. Raising my hand, I sent forth my own smoky tendril.
“Begone,” I commanded, my voice absolute.
The air turned cold, and when my tendril reached the creature, it sighed and unravelled, collapsing in on itself and leaving nothing but the scent of ashes.
Then I turned and left Sylvia’s shop, moving as one with the shadows and darkness.
I stood again inside Sylvia’s shop, but it was darker than usual, and the edges of my vision blurred.
I tried to turn and flee, but my feet carried me forward as if my body was not my own.
My hand reached toward a wall of leather-bound ledgers, which vanished to reveal a hidden staircase that spiralled downward like a coiled root.
As I descended, the air grew cooler and denser, the scent of damp earth and rotting leaves filling my nostrils.
The staircase opened into a subterranean chamber with a dome carved from earth and stone.
Shelves stretching to the top of the dome held hundreds of chained books, the iron darkened with age.
A large round table made of black stone sat in the middle of the room under a chandelier of fire. A hooded creature hunched over the table, the fire above bathing it in bloodred light while casting shadows that reached for me.
The creature looked at me, and I stared in horror at myself.
It was not my face, although I knew with certainty that it was me: a dark Druid born from blood and shadow with eyes like molten coal, a mouth too wide and hungry, and skin with twisted veins of ash.
Kira, I hissed. Come home. I pointed a clawed finger at my own chest, and I looked down in terror. Black roots spread out from the bruise, worming their way under my skin until they covered every inch of my body.
The roots were a part of me, but the most repulsive part was that I welcomed them.
The creature skittered across the table on all four limbs, unnaturally fast, and then it jumped at me. As it landed on my chest and face, I woke up, screaming and thrashing.
Owen burst into the room, flicked on the lights, and slid across his bed, kneeling beside me. “Kira! Kira, it’s okay!”
“My skin!” I yelled, frantically running my hands along my chest and arms. “Do you see anything? Anything black?! Roots?” I shook uncontrollably, soaked in sweat. The black roots were under my skin. I was sure of it.
We searched my body and even the bed around me but found nothing unusual. There was only the same dark bruise above my heart.
“There’s nothing, Kira. Nothing. It was just a dream.”
“Nightmare.” I shuddered with revulsion, lying down and curling into myself. Tears streamed down my face.
A tentative hand brushed against my shoulder, and I flinched.
“It’s okay. I’m here.”
I drew strength from his voice and grasped at Owen’s hand like a lifeline, pulling it toward me. He immediately lay down, hugging me close to his chest.
It took a long time for the terror to fade and for my body to stop trembling.
“What happened after the shop?” I asked after a while. “I remember leaving but nothing after that.”
“We dropped off Jace, and I brought you back to my place. You said you wanted to go to bed. We haven’t been home that long. I was tidying the kitchen and was about to join you in bed when I heard you scream.”
“He’s calling to me.”
“Craos?”
“Yes. I feel like I have to…”
“Have to what?” Owen’s arms tightened around me.
My voice filled with panic, and I sobbed. “Like I have to answer. What does it mean, Owen? Why can’t I be a normal Druid?”
Owen pressed kisses to my head and cheek. “I don’t know what it means, but I’m here, Kira. Always.”
“I know. You’re my light in the dark. Don’t leave, okay?”
“Okay.” He rubbed my arm and eventually his warmth against my back made me drowsy.
“Promise?”
Owen’s words wrapped around me like his arms, offering the safety I so desperately needed. “I promise, Kira. I won’t leave you.”
The nightmare did not return, but I felt the shift deep within me. Something dark and monstrous had awoken. No longer a distant whisper, it was a living thing taking shape beneath my ribs, growing stronger with every heartbeat and clawing and scraping as it tried to break free.