by Ainsley Shay
The smile he had just moments ago also collapsed. “What happened?”
In hasty and jerky movements, I tumbled away from him, picked up my bag that had fallen, and went to the door. “I have to go. You weren’t meant to—that wasn’t meant to happen—you shouldn’t be—you should go.”
He reached for me. “Everly, wait.”
I viciously shook my head. “Cameron, you don’t understand—hell, I don’t even understand—but whatever is happening to me, it’ll be better if you keep your distance. That is the only thing I am sure about right now.”
“Please, Everly. Let me in. You are nothing like the magic my parents practiced. You’re pure and good—”
“Stop!” My hands clenched in frustration until they hurt. I squeezed my eyes so tight I saw tiny speckles of silvery lights behind my lids. Only a minute ago, I was content, but then harsh reality slammed into everything that was good. “Cameron, please just go,” I begged in a low and distant voice.
I opened my eyes to see him trudging down the steps toward his car. My aunt was moving about inside the house. The hollow wooden floor thudded as she moved from room to room.
Cameron caught my attention as he got into his car. “Everly, I won’t just let this go.” His features tightened into a pained expression. “I can’t.”
Dread welded its way through my chest. Its ugly and heavy weight caused me to sag against the side of the house. Too much had happened today. I needed sleep, but there was still one more thing—rather, person—I’d have to do some explaining to.
I opened the door to the house. A light breeze bustled behind me. The skulls swayed, and the wind chimes played their part.
“Oh my God! Sweetie, what happened to you?”
It was the reaction I was expecting so I already had my spiel all planned out, which wasn’t far from the truth.
“Had a little spill on the gravel drive.”
She examined my shoulder, then my knee. “A little spill? Darling, it looks like you got run over by a Mack truck.”
To anyone else, that might seem far-fetched and funny. I giggled despite myself. “Nope, not today, just a minor bike accident.”
“Whatever you say. Let’s get you cleaned up.” After she guided me to her bathroom, she took out a small first aid kit.
“I made a batch of cornbread and a pot of chili. I hope you like chili.”
“Yeah, I do. Thanks.”
Aunt Juju held the bottle of antiseptic over my knee with a towel under it. “I’m not going to say this may sting a little—”
“Just do it.” I braced myself, held my breath, and waited for the sting of a lifetime. And there it was. “Shh…” My curse word faded off into nothingness. “Can you do my shoulder with that stuff before you bandage my knee?”
“Sure.”
Better to get the worse part over with all at once. I winced as the cool liquid drenched my shoulder and raw flesh.
“Oh baby, you did quite a number on yourself.”
“Yeah, gravel isn’t too forgiving.”
She took out a salve and bandages from the box. “I’d say not by the looks of these scrapes. Although, it looks more like road rash than from gravel.”
I stiffened, hoping she hadn’t noticed the action. “Yeah, well, it may have been the road, too. It was right as they meet.” Lies, lies, and more lies.
She tsked. “I’ve almost wiped out there several times when I took the bike into town.”
A few minutes later, she was done. I looked into the mirror and cringed. Who the hell stared back at me, I didn’t know.
“Let’s eat,” she said as she cleaned up the wrappings and bloodied towels. “I want to hear all about your day.”
I threw my head back in exhaustion. Would this day ever end? I had to be grateful I didn’t have to go to school tomorrow. Sleeping in was all that was on my schedule.
Aunt Juju had dinner already on the table when I came into the kitchen. The sweet smell of cornbread and chili mingled in the air, and my stomach growled. Thinking back on my day, I realized the only thing I had was a cup of coffee from Dude’s. God, that seemed like a lifetime ago.
“Sit down and eat,” she said as she took her seat.
I did. “This looks and smells incredible.”
She blushed. “Well, it’s one of my signature dishes. In fact, it was your grandma’s recipe. She’d make this on the coldest day for your dad and me. We knew the moment we left for school what we would be coming home to.” She picked up the knife, then buttered her cornbread. “I’m telling you, our legs couldn’t go fast enough to get home.” Her eyes glimmered, a distant smile playing on her lips as she reminisced.
I picked up the spoon, then scooped up a heaping bite. The melted cheese sprinkled on top refused to break. The tasty and gooey string made my mouth water even more. I shoved the bite into my mouth. Flavors of all kinds burst on my tongue.
“This is delicious,” I said with my mouth still half full.
My aunt nodded. A grin swept across her lips. “Not to sound full of myself, but I know.” She laughed, which made me laugh.
It took a day of being on a roller coaster to get to this moment. I wasn’t sure if it was completely worth it, but it was damn close. With each bite I took, I felt more relaxed—
“So, tell me about your day.”
BOMB!
—Relaxed until that moment.
My brain went haywire for a moment until it deciphered how exactly I was going to answer that question. Diner, article in paper, preacher/protector, magic, funnel-thingy, Cameron, Hartley, Veil Rock, creepy white lady, my mark, Cameron again, more wind-funnel thingies.
I settled for the easy way out. “I went to work this morning. Mina came in, and she asked her dad to take us to Veil Rock. So that’s what we did.”
Aunt Juju’s eyes widened. “That’s fun. What did you think?”
I half smiled and shrugged. Forgetting about the injury to my shoulder, I winced when pain shot down my arm. “Ouch! Going to have to remember that next time.”
“You’re young. It’ll be healed in no time.”
I chuckled, then grew serious. “Veil Rock wasn’t like I’d imagined. I think I got the same impression you did.”
She swallowed her mouthful of chili. “Just a big rock, right?”
The empty feeling that had consumed me when we approached the rock welled up again. “Yeah, that pretty much sums it up.”
She took a sip of her iced tea before setting the glass down. Scooping a spoonful of chili, she asked, “So what else did you do?”
“Nothing, really,” I lied through a mouthful of cornbread.
She looked down at her bowl with her spoon in her hand. “I’m not a snooper, nor am I nosy—well, no more than most—but I heard you outside on the porch talking to someone… a boy perhaps.” Her eyebrows bobbed up and down.
Lying was no longer my friend; there was no way it could get me out of this line of questioning. “Yeah, um… Cameron Hunt, Isla’s grandson, stopped by. We have a class together.” That was the truth, and omitting answers was quite different from lying, I told myself.
Aunt Juju’s face developed a very devious grin. “Do you like him?” Her tone matched her overzealous smirk.
“No! He’s just a friend.”
Her face fell. “He is so handsome, and I just thought—”
“Nope—not gonna happen,” I reconfirmed.
“You guys would make a beautiful couple.”
“Thanks, but still not going to happen. Besides, he’s with Hartley King.”
My aunt almost choked. “Not her.”
I nodded. “Yep.”
She made a grunting noise. “Anyway, it sounds like you had a very eventful day.”
You have no idea. I wasn’t sure how much I could tell my aunt, since I hardly knew her. But she was amazingly easy to talk to, and that alone was comforting.
“You must be exhausted,” she said.
I was more than exhausted. I coul
d easily sleep with the dead tonight. “Yeah, a little.”
She laid her hand over mine. “Why don’t you get some rest and I’ll clean up in here?”
“Are you sure?”
She waved her hand dismissively. “Absolutely, it’ll only take me five minutes.”
I normally wouldn’t take her up on that offer, but I was all over it tonight. “Okay, thank you.” I stood, then took my dishes to the sink. “And thank you for dinner and helping with my scrapes.”
She stood, brought her bowl to the sink, and set it down. Being careful with my shoulder, she hugged me. “I love you, baby. I know I’m not around that much, but if you need me for anything, you let me know.” She pulled away, searching my face. “Okay?”
“Okay.”
Before going to bed, I washed my face and brushed my teeth. I wanted a shower, but the idea of taking off the bandages, the stinging hot water, and redressing my injuries was too daunting.
I took Legend of Veil Rock from my bag. The sheets were smooth and cool as I climbed between them. Debating whether to skip around or start from the beginning, I opened the cover and turned to the first page. I flipped through the copyrights and table of contents. The dedication read, To the one I once loved.
Awkward, I thought. I turned another thin yellowing page.
Prologue
Millennia ago, a warlock fell in love with a human. He wrote in the stars that he would love her forever. The only problem that stood in their way was he was immortal, and she was not. He did not get sick, so he knew of no other suffering until his heart broke when he realized she would not be with him for all of eternity.
The warlock’s first thought was to find a way to end his own life, so he would never have to endure a single day without his true love. As a being of the most powerful magic, even he knew there was no spell for immortality. Still, he was driven with a mad obsession to find a way for his love to live forever.
Through hundreds of magical trials and thousands of drops of blood, he created creatures that should have never come into existence. His spells failed over and over until one day, he succeeded. The last trial was more than successful. He had indeed created the perfect spell to make his lover immortal.
She, however, was not the same.
They did not live happily ever after.
“Holy Hell.”
Closing the book, I examined it again. The worn cover was proof it had been read by many. But how many of them believed what was between its pages? Veil Rock was a town so far from any norm I had ever known, but warlocks?
I set the book down, turned off the lamp, and pulled the covers to my chest. The glow from the hallway light seeped under the door. The pale white woman haunted my thoughts. Then, Cameron was the one taking her place, filling my head with secrets of his own real nightmares.
A whirlwind swept around me. Something on the nightstand fell. Reaching over, I turned on the light.
Nothing had fallen.
The book’s cover had slapped the surface of the nightstand. It laid splayed open. I glanced over the heading, then quickly rushed to close the book.
Once, there was a Protector
I took the loose band out of my hair, then hastily tied it around the book.
It was close to ten when I finally was able to settle down enough to close my eyes. It was 10:02 when my phone buzzed. Damn, I had forgotten to turn it off. Groggily, I reached for the irritating device.
It was a text from an unknown number. It had the same area code as Cameron’s.
This is Macias. Elyza is here. Please try to stay out of sight until I talk to you.
Elyza—was she possibly the pale woman who had already seen and touched me?
I texted back: If she looks like Casper, then too late. She already found me.
He responded: Then the end isn’t far. I’m sorry I failed you.
If I hadn’t already spent what energy I was afforded today, I might have had some left to get worked up, nervous, maybe freak out, or even panic with an immense amount of fear, which was probably the proper response, but I didn’t. I was completely drained. There was nothing left in me to react in any way. I turned off the phone.
The end of what? I wondered in the darkness.
14
Upon waking, I found that my sense of fear had renewed itself. Daring to look at the book, I saw that my hair tie was still secured around it. Did I also dare to read the chapter about the Protector the book had mysteriously flashed to last night? Ironically right before the text from Macias?
“It’s only a legend—hence the title,” I told myself. My shoulder ached as I reached for the book. I took a breath before I flipped through the pages until I found the familiar heading.
Once, there was a Protector
The Protector was all knowing and all good. He, himself, had no protection, but offered it to those who needed his help the most. What was most curious about the Protector was he rarely knew what he was protecting his subjects from. Without senses for what the future held, he could only guess the power some possessed and what their value could mean to those in his own world.
The life of the Protector was not an easy one. He was naturally a giver and a caretaker, which left little time for himself. The Protector had only one subject he could look out for at a time. When their time had come to pass and they no longer needed protection or they perished, either to greatness or to the shallows of death, it was then he could find another to protect.
He had many ways to protect his subjects. Although his powers were limited, the Protector was able to use simple magic to create charms. The charms could be anything from pieces of cloth, sentimental objects, to jewelry. If the item was misused or removed, the Protector no longer had the power to protect his subject. Their fate was usually death at an early age.
I slammed the book shut. My heart raced at the speed of a cheetah catching his prey. This all had to be a massive coincidence. I had wanted to experience magic; I had wanted to know what or who I was being protected from. But I did not want to die. I opened the drawer to the nightstand, then quickly pulled out my bracelet. The metal was cold as I slipped it over my hand. The red stone glistened in the rays of the morning sun streaming through the window. Calming my pounding heart through slow breaths of air, I twirled the stone. The familiar, insignificant motion was comforting.
My knee was as sore as my shoulder when I stood. I went to the bathroom, sitting on the edge of the tub to change the bandages. The scrapes were deeper than I thought. Scars were inevitable. As I cleaned the raw areas, I knew there was no way on this earth I could be a nurse. I could hardly dress my own wounds without gagging. When I finished, I changed into shorts and a tank top to avoid any fabric rubbing on the injured areas.
After eating a bowl of cereal, I spent the first half of the morning catching up on my online classes and homework from the aye-aye school of hell. All the work Mr. Greer had given me to catch up on was easy, and I was able to fly through it. One of my classes online, Art History, I wasn’t so fortunate. The text was as boring as some of the art. It wasn’t that I didn’t have an appreciation for it, but I lacked the means to care.
I finished around one-thirty, scarfing down a quick snack before heading to The Warlock’s Workshop. My legs wobbled as I straddled the seat of the bike. I closed my eyes and muttered, “No more accidents. No more creepy pale people. No more wind.” I kissed the red glass bead.
The sky was mostly blue with white cotton ball-like puffs scattered throughout. I smiled in the relief I felt that all this weird crap was coming to an end. The preacher had won. But I had my life back, and whatever danger I had been in was now in the past.
I pumped the pedals a little harder as I passed the church. Macias was the last person I wanted to see.
Isla was feeding Boone when I arrived.
“Hello, dear.”
I wished my homework had taken me a few minutes longer, so I could have avoided the disgusting scene. Half a limp, dead mouse hung out
of its beak.
Ugh. I threw up a little in my mouth. “Hi, Isla.”
Owls were supposedly night birds, and it was only one in the afternoon. Boone should have been one messed-up bird, but he didn’t seem to mind. I averted my eyes before it inhaled the second half of the rodent.
“Cameron will be by after school. I need him to move a few shelves around to make room for a dragon.”
“A dragon?”
“Oh dear, he’s glorious. I’m sure you’ll find him as delightful as I do.”
A delightful dragon? I smiled. “I’m sure I will, Isla.” I was sure I’d be more delighted by it than by Cameron when he showed up.
“I plan on putting him here,” she pointed to the book area, “so let’s start clearing away some of the smaller things.”
“You got it.”
I went to the back storeroom to get a couple boxes.
“Good day, Preacher Macias.”
Cold shock ran down my spine. I dropped the empty boxes.
“Hello, Isla. I hope all is well with you?”
“It is. It’s another wonderful and beautiful day,” she exclaimed with a clap of her hands.
“That it is,” he agreed.
“What brings you in on this lovely Monday?”
“Actually, I came to see Everly. Is she here?”
“She just got here. Give me a sec and I’ll get her for you.”
The air in the small room was diminishing fast with the harsh breaths pumping in and out of my lungs.
“Better yet, follow me, and you two can talk in the back.”
“Thank you.”
The shuffling of their feet as they neared almost caused me to topple over. Grabbing Isla’s desk, I steadied myself.
“Here’s my lovely assistant,” Isla chimed.
Happy she hadn’t noticed my reaction before she walked away, I tried to gain the strength needed for whatever was coming.
Macias, The Protector, stood in the doorway. His face still had the kind expression of someone who cared.
“Everly, please listen—” He paused mid-sentence. “What happened to you?” He eyed the bandages covering my knee and shoulder.