Shadow Realms

by M K Mancos

  "I need to contact the authorities and let them know I'm back. But what kind of excuse can I make that doesn't involve me having to come up with some elaborate story about a fugue state or random abduction? I don't want to lie, but let’s face it, the police aren't going to believe I got sucked into a time well."

  She had me there. "No. I don't believe they will."

  She put some space between us and ran her hands down her pant legs. "So, you have any ideas?"

  "I'll make a few phone calls." With the Convention, all things were possible. She'd not get into trouble for seemingly disappearing and using police resources when she wasn't missing.

  Her eyes widened. "Really? You can do that? Make a few calls and things go away?"

  I gave her a knowing smile. "I know people."

  Eighteen

  Kells

  No matter how much I wanted to remain home safe with Aunt Rallie, I also wanted to stay with Malachi. I sat between him and his friend, Colvin, on the flight back to New York. Colvin kept busy on his computer for the entire trip. He barely looked up from the screen or engaged in conversation.

  So far, I hadn't managed to get a good handle on him. If he said two words to me since I'd returned from the past, I would have been surprised.

  For that reason, I wasn't quite sure I trusted him or his part in all this. However, I wasn't going to mention my suspicions to Malachi. At least not this early on.

  I leaned over and tried to get a look at what was so fascinating on his screen. Was he looking at porn at twenty thousand feet? Or trying to find some sports’ scores. I caught the name in the search engine and sucked in a breath.

  Jane Porter.

  What was he doing? Didn't he believe that Jane was real or that she had disappeared back in the 1920s. The times back then were turbulent. Crime was high, and records were easily misplaced, lost, or incomplete. So many people were only records of births and deaths—others, not even that much.

  Curiosity had gotten the better of me. I tried not to narrow my eyes indicating I was onto him. “Find any leads?"

  Earnest bright blue eyes turned to mine. "No. Not on the net. But I'm not finished looking."

  A shiver moved over me. Power resided in his quiet determination. He might not possess the scope or amperage that drove Malachi, but he had enough to register across my senses. Colvin was anything but benign.

  “You want to find her?” A stupid question given the evidence before me, but in cases like these, it paid to have things spelled out.

  He took his attention off the screen again where he’d returned to his work. “Yes. Of course. Why wouldn’t I want to find her?”

  I fiddled with the jacket I had wrapped around my shoulders. A sudden chill had blasted down my back. “I don’t know. It was only a question. Don’t get all defensive.”

  My reply captured Malachi’s attention. He leaned forward to frown at Colvin. “What’s going on?”

  “He’s looking for Jane Porter on the web.” Not exactly ratting the guy out, but at least letting his boss know that his assistant had gone rogue.

  Instead of annoyance, Malachi looked interested. “Find anything?”

  “Not yet. I’m going to have to go deeper into the archives.”

  What’s this?

  I looked between the two of them. Apparently, they’d bypassed me in the conversation and started speaking their own language.

  “Can you access all of them on the notebook?” The frown returned to Malachi’s brow. I wanted very badly to reach out a finger and smooth it over.

  Colvin shook his head. “Not all of them. I’ll have to get on Gutenberg when we get back to the office.”

  “But you think you can locate her?” Malachi pressed.

  “I’ll give it my best.”

  Colvin’s word seemed good enough for Malachi, who gave a decisive nod as if all was decided. “Good. You work on that while we try to recover the grimoires.”

  I should have felt grateful that one of Malachi’s friends was going to work on finding Jane Porter, but it only made me worry more about what had happened to her since she’d been pulled through the well. Would we be able to recover her at the moment she went missing, or would we have to pull her into this place and time?

  Unlike me, she was taken from a point a hundred years in the past. In order to get her back to her time, we’d have to either travel back to hers to extract her or bring her forward and then find a way to get her home. That seemed like too much jerking through time for me, but then I didn’t have the expertise that Malachi and his sidekick appeared to possess.

  I turned to Malachi. “Did you want me to switch places with you so you two can consult?”

  He shook his head. “I want you where you’re protected on both sides. No jostling. No hitting you with the drink cart. No strange men bumping into you on the way to the restroom.”

  I gave a snort of laughter. “You’re a bit overprotective there, Sayer. I think I can survive a brush with a drink cart.”

  “The shadow realms can infect anything—including inanimate objects. I’d rather not take a chance.”

  Of course, I’d heard of possessed objects. Haunted mirrors, paintings with trapped souls, dolls that housed entities. Anyone who studied the paranormal ran across those stories; thinking it might come from those who lived in the shadow realms solidified the concept. Made it real.

  “Wouldn’t they have to know this was the particular flight we were on?” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I wished to call them back. “Never mind. We’re talking about time here. It doesn’t matter to them. They can manipulate it any way they like to their advantage.”

  Instead of giving me a lecture or a verbal pat on the head for my observation, he looked down for a moment. When his gaze met mine again, his expression was bleak. “A few months ago, I lost my sister Maddie for about six weeks to the nether realms. She was bounced through dimensions, plucked down into alternate versions of her life. I had a horrible time locating her. They hid her well. I always managed to find her, but it cost me a lot. They can manipulate time as easily as we blink. No effort at all. I’d really like, if at all possible, to keep you here with me, now that you’ve been recovered. They’ve tasted your power, I have no doubt they’ll try again.”

  I sat back in my seat, stunned. No wonder Maddie had looked grim-faced when I mentioned I could see time wells.

  Without much thought, I slid my hand into Malachi’s and squeezed. “I’ll stay with you. You know, for my protection.”

  He lifted my hand to his lips and gave my fingers a light kiss. Heat seared me in place. This was the man destiny told me was mine, yet so many obstacles stood between us—a possible horrific future to name one.

  We landed, picked up our luggage then took a shuttle to the long-term parking. I climbed into the front seat with Malachi as we headed to the police station to pick up my confiscated belongings.

  Things didn’t go as planned.

  The police, though they’d been assured I’d been found safe and it had all been a misunderstanding, decided to take it out on us for wasting their time.

  The desk sergeant who was in charge of giving me back my property, sneered. “Typical little girl. Wants to create drama and be the center of attention because she doesn’t get enough at home.”

  My mouth hung open at the accusation. I signed my name along the bottom of the paper that released my belongings to me. “I’m sorry that any of your precious time and resources were wasted looking for me, but I never asked for any of it and was perfectly content to continue my studies where I’d gone.”

  The sergeant started to open his mouth when Malachi stepped in. He put a gentle hand on my arm. “We’re prepared to make a sizable donation to your PBA earmarked for officers hurt in the line of duty as a way of apology.”

  “That’s very kind of you.” His expression indicated he’d rather eat glass. What else could the sergeant say to that? If he mentioned they didn’t want the money, he was hurtin
g those who’d given it all to protect and serve.

  Malachi had effectively cut him off with money. Because he’d made mention of the PBA, it couldn’t really be classified as the bribe it was meant to be. I had to hand it to him, Malachi had real style.

  Though it hurt like swallowing whole pinecones, I tried for a look of humility as I said, “I am thankful that, if I had been missing, everyone would have done their utmost to find me. And not stopped until they had.”

  The sergeant might have snarled something, but Malachi had taken my arm and pulled me away from the desk with my meager belongings tucked up under my arms. Colvin had my suitcase, rolling it out the door and to the parking lot.

  When we reached the car, I rounded on Malachi. “I thought you said you’d make some calls? The jerk acted like I’d inconvenienced him personally.”

  “You might have.” He gave a shrug and unlocked the door. “And, for your information, I did make calls. I have no control over what happened after, or what goes through the heads of those receiving the calls.”

  I looked down at my feet, feeling a bit ashamed of myself for thinking he hadn’t done as he’d promised. I mean, I hadn’t been with him every moment since our conversation in Rallie’s garden.

  He unlocked the door and I got inside without saying a word. He obviously had some pull somewhere that I wasn’t aware. At least I hadn’t been arrested. For that, I was grateful.

  We drove for a while before jumping on the New York Thruway. I recognized it from my trip up the first time. “Are we going to the farm straight off?”

  Malachi exchanged looks with Colvin in the rearview mirror. “No. I’m going to drop Colvin at the office, so he can consult with Gutenberg, then we’re going to drive over. I’ve already called my cousin. He said it’s cool if we come by.”

  I froze a bit before all my senses came back online again. I turned slowly to face him. “Your cousin? He owns the farm now?”

  He took his eyes off the road and glanced over at me with a raised brow. “Yeah, and I’ll tell you right now it makes it hella easy to get access with family living there.”

  No doubt, but he had probably already found the grimoires if they’d been located during any renovations. If they were even kept after Gemma’s death.

  I rubbed my forehead where a tension headache had decided to start pounding out a dubstep beat. “What happens if Gemma lost control of them years ago? There’s no guarantee she managed to hold onto them after she left New York. Hell, after she left Jane’s apartment that day.”

  Malachi turned to me with a shuttered expression. “That’s quite possible.”

  Not for the first time I wished I’d stuck with researching my dissertation rather than stirring up the pot of my talent. Life would have been so much easier. Instead, it continued to snowball into one brush with the shadow realms after another.

  I cupped my hands around my head. My hair fell into my face, hiding me from my traveling companions and bad decisions.

  Malachi reached out and touched my shoulder. “Hey. You, all right?”

  It hit me then that this was the road I was always meant to travel. By hook or crook, destiny had brought me to this pass, to know this man and aid him in getting those grimoires back. I’d never stood a chance.

  I lifted my head and looked at him through a narrow-eyed view. As if squinting my eyes might allow me to see any odd auras or shifting timelines. “I want the entire truth from you, Malachi Sayer. Who or what are you? Why have you been a part of my consciousness for as long as I can remember?”

  Again, he exchanged glances with Colvin.

  From the back seat, Colvin sat back and shook his head in something akin to defeat. “You might as well tell her, Mal. She’s going to figure it out with or without your help. Hell, her aunt already knows.”

  I spun to frown at Colvin. “My aunt knows what?”

  “Tell her, Mal.” Colvin sounded as if he was the boss instead of the other way around. Hell, maybe he was, and I’d gotten it all wrong.

  Malachi took his eyes off the road for a second to glance at me. “Have you ever heard of the Convention of the Rose Hand?”

  I almost snickered. The title made me decidedly uncomfortable though I couldn’t say why. “What? Is that like some porno or kink/fetish term?”

  To my surprise he gave me a sly smile and shook his head. “Far from it, but I see where you might think that. The name is actually taken from a very loose translation of an old dialect spoken by only a few hundred magical practitioners during the time of Christ. We mostly call it the Convention.”

  Admittedly, it was rather exciting to hear him mention an organization that went back so far, but I had no idea what it had to do with me. “Got it, but what’s the connection to our present situation?”

  “Colvin and I both work for them. I was recruited in San Antonio by my current superior, Astrid. I’m what the Convention classifies as a war mage.”

  I sat back in my seat. This explanation was beyond anything I had imagined. I’d fallen into a rabbit hole so deep, not even Alice could get me out using one of her “drink me” bottles. “That sounds like something out of a video game.”

  “And yet I pulled you through time.”

  I started to open my mouth to say something, but what? He was right. He’d reached through a time well and grabbed me from the 1920s to bring me home. What he’d accomplished was remarkable. Who was I to judge?

  Then it hit me. Like the weight of a building landing on my chest to knock all the air out. “You’re battling the shadow realms.”

  “For so long I think I’ve been doing it forever.” His voice was soft, tired, either from the long fight or the fact he continued to do so, I couldn’t tell.

  “So, this Convention has a history and a hierarchy?” Any club that had been around during the time of Christ had to have a long and arduous history. I loved history as much as I did putting together the genealogy of witching families. The reason being history went hand in hand with my career goals.

  "Very much so. As long and as complicated as the history of the world." Malachi put on his blinker and smoothly moved over to take the exit for Fox Run.

  "And you've worked for them for how long?" I couldn't help but ask. He didn't look all that old. Maybe thirty or a little older but had the world-weary look in his eyes soldiers got from doing one too many tours of duty.

  "About eight years now."

  "That's a long time." I'd never worked that long anywhere in my life. Well, maybe at school, but that was a different animal.

  "It's a long time of trying to beat back the darkness and feeling we're only spinning our wheels." He sat forward a bit as he watched the road. His attention so complete, I felt the tension in him all the way over to the passenger’s seat.

  We came to a place in the long winding road that led to town where Malachi pulled over then got out. Colvin followed him as I watched from the front seat. What were they doing?

  Malachi bent down and picked up something from the ground. He and Colvin talked about it and looked off into the distance from where they'd come. A short argument ensued. Malachi cut his hand across the air shutting down whatever Colvin suggested.

  I leaned over, trying to better see what they were doing but hadn't a clue. It appeared they waved a small brass disk around like a flat magic wand.

  What in the hell?

  A truck came speeding by, nearly taking out both men and would have had Malachi not pulled Colvin to the shoulder. Malachi turned and flipped the driver off, extending his long arm as high as it would reach.

  For a self-proclaimed war mage, he sure did flip a person off like a plain, homespun New Yorker.

  The truck stopped, and white lights came on. Oh, God. The asshole was putting it in reverse. That’s when I noticed the complete absence of engine noise. Even the tires floated about an inch above the ground. My heart shuddered, and I started to shiver. A dark, oily presence slid around my heart. Without a doubt, we were in the presence of e
vil.

  I leaned over and opened the driver's door. "C'mon! He's coming back."

  Malachi reached into his pocket and pulled out something that fit into his palm.

  "What in the hell, Malachi. Colvin. Hurry!"

  Malachi threw the object down the road, skipping it like a stone on the lake. The entire scene in front of us melted. Trees, truck, road, leaves, everything. Watercolors in the rain. I sat there blinking, hoping my face didn't look like Munch’s The Scream. Just looking at it freaked me out so bad I started screaming.

  I hid my face in my hands. What had he thrown on the ground?

  "Kells. Sweetheart, look at me." Malachi gripped my arms. "It's all right. Just an illusion stone."

  I lowered my hands.

  What the ever-loving hell?

  I was not having it. Not even a little bit. “Warn a girl! Warn. A. Girl!”

  I hit his shoulder with my open palm and looked out of the passenger side, still shaking and trying to get myself under control when he pulled back out onto the road. Malachi executed a one-eighty and went back the way we’d come.

  I turned to look out the back window. The truck had either gone around the bend in the road out of sight or fell into a void. I hoped for the latter.

  “Now, where are we going?” By the moon, I just wanted to get someplace safe, and this particular stretch of road wasn’t it.

  “Taking the long way around. That stone isn’t going to keep that illusion going indefinitely. We need to put some distance between us and that truck before the driver makes out what I’ve done.” He slowed to take a turn at a junction where the road split.

  We started back north, but this time heading a bit more west than our previous course.

  As I sat there, quietly contemplating the turns my life had taken, I wondered not for the first time about the shadow realms and beings who inhabited that dark place. Mostly, I wanted to know what one was doing driving a truck on a New York turnpike. Did they test for road safety at the Shadow DMV? How long were the lines there? And did they have to sit for a horrible picture that really didn’t look like them? Then again, they could probably get out of a ticket, so did it even matter?