Shadow Forest- The Complete Series

by Eliza Grace

  I glance at Jon as I head for the front door. He’s looking at me with one of his odd, unreadable expressions. He suspects something. I can’t fool him it seems. I struggle with the front door, not looking behind me to see if anyone is coming to help. I push with one hand, and roll forward with the other. I make it out the freaking door by myself, thank you very much.

  Jon catches up to me first. Hoyt and Jen hang back, talking quietly.

  “So… Tilda,” Jon takes control of the wheelchair. He doesn’t have to hunch over like Hoyt does. “What’s going on in that brain of yours?” He gently taps the back of my head.

  “Nothing. I mean, I’m worried just like everyone else. But nothing else.” I don’t sound convincing, not at all.

  “Liar, liar,” Jon sing-songs. He’s in control now, more so than he has been since our escape from the forest. Maybe he’d been hangry the whole time.

  “You seem better.” I try to change the subject. He doesn’t bite.

  “I am. So, what’s going on with you?”

  “Just leave it alone, Jon. I’m fine.”

  “There’s that lie again. I’m fine. It’s fine. Everything’s fine.” He pushes me a little faster through the empty-of-people streets, past abandoned cars and spilled drinks and stains on the ground that are dark and could be blood. After a minute or two of rough pushing, he steers the wheelchair off the beaten path and next to a bench near the second mom-and-pop pharmacy in town. He faces the wheelchair towards the seat and then sits down to look at me. “What’s going on? The truth.”

  I sigh. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

  “No, I’m not. And you can bet your odds that Jen and Hoyt are talking about how you’re acting weird too. Only they think you need to be handled delicately instead of treated like the grown person you are.”

  “Fine,” I push out the word and then swallow hard. “Fine, I’ll tell you.” I pause. He waits expectantly. I was hoping to think of another way to avoid this conversation. “The witchfinder is still here.”

  Jon’s gaze darts around the town, looking for the danger that should be dead.

  “No, you don’t understand.” I tap my forehead. “He’s still here, Jon. He’s in my head. Some part of him didn’t die. I think he survived because of the magical connection.”

  “That’s bad, Tilda,” Jon breathes out. “We need to exorcise that monster now.”

  I hold up a hand to stop him from saying more. “I think we need him.” When he looks like he’s about to lose his temper, I speak again. “Listen, he knows more than I do about magic. He knew how to steal my power in the first place and how to get out of the border spell and lock me in. Maybe he knows how to… how to do the spell once more, put it back in place and force all the prisoners into their original cage.”

  “Keeping him in your head on the off chance he might have the key to solving our problem is stupid, Tilda.”

  “And you have a better idea? You know the spell or some way to get rid of the monsters I released into this world?” I feel exasperated. He needs to understand that I can see no other way. Up until now, I’ve only been tolerating the witchfinder in my head, but sitting here now with Jon I know there must be a divine purpose to why he survived death. “He has the answers, Jon. I know he does. I can deal with his meddling and mean-hearted comments, if in the end he shows us the way to correct my mistake.

  Jen and Hoyt catch up then. They’ve walked slowly and I suspect Jon is right—they were talking about me and how to approach me with hard questions I might not want to answer. They could take a card from Jon’s deck; I apparently respond to the blunt jerky approach.

  “You should tell them,” Jon calls me out on my secret, standing up from the bench and walking away. “I’m going to see if there’s anyone alive in these buildings around here. I can move faster without humans tagging along.” He darts away, becoming a Flash-like blur of motion.

  “Tell us what?” Jen asks gently, taking Jon’s now-vacant spot.

  It’s harder to admit the truth to the two people I love most in this world, but I force myself.

  Jen goes pale. Hoyt curses.

  They both agree with Jon that we need to figure out how to destroy the witchfinder’s continued hold on me. They don’t want to listen to my reasoning.

  I’m surprised you don’t also wish to banish me from your mind. His voice is a gentle breeze through me. You possess a shred of intelligence after all, little witch.

  Don’t push it, butt face. I hit him with the weakest comeback of all time. If you know what we can do, then freaking tell me. I’m so tired of you. And if you don’t want to help, then maybe everyone’s right. Maybe I should focus all of my efforts into completely destroying you.

  He says nothing for a while. Jen and Hoyt have moved away from me, talking quietly once more, plotting my fate for me probably since I’m hell-bent on self-destruction.

  I will help you, if you help me, little witch.

  You don’t deserve any help!

  Maybe that is true, but I know where the knowledge lives that will return all of the beasts to their caves, restore the dead to the living, and erase the history of all the dark things that have happened in this town.

  He’s promising me impossible things again. It is not my legs this time. He is offering to rewrite time, to bring people back to life, to change memories.

  I know I shouldn’t believe him. I know I shouldn’t.

  But how can I say no to the hope of it?

  Tell me what you want me to do.

  Oh, it’s simple, little witch. I want to go to the Neverwhere. I want to go to the place she lives. I want to be her constant, hateful companion. Let her taste prison for a change.

  You want… whatever piece of you is still alive inside of me to go to Elisabeth? I can’t believe it’s possible. He is only a fragment in my mind. Only the spark of a body that is gone.

  It is not impossible. And yes, that is exactly what I want.

  Fine, I agree. I’ll help you. Now tell me how to remake the spell.

  Go back to the woods, little witch. Follow the marks that only show in the light of a full moon. All of my knowledge you will find at the end of the path. All my knowledge. Knowledge is power. Our wishes will be made true.

  “We need to go back to the forest,” I say loud enough for Hoyt and Jen to hear. Their voices instantly fall into silence. “I know you don’t trust him, but trust me.”

  “It’s not a matter of trust,” Jen begins, walking over and tracing her hand gently down my hair. “Of course I trust you. But he’s a maniac, Tilda. You can’t trust that psycho.”

  “Jen’s right, Tilda.” Hoyt joins in.

  “Look, I have no idea how to get rid of him in my head. Jen’s power is premonition basically. Do you know what to do? Have you seen what happens in the future?” My gaze pierces my Aunt and she flinches. “What about you, Hoyt? Does your physical therapy background give you some unique insight into the magical predicament I’m in? Can you heal my head like you’ve tried to heal my legs?” He frowns at me. I don’t care. They’re both wrong. We don’t have a choice but to trust the witchfinder.

  “Tilda, let’s just talk about this,” Jen’s voice is small. I’ve hurt her.

  “There’s no time to—” A deep scream in the distance arrests my voice. It’s a man’s yell and there’s so much fear wrapped up in the utterance.

  Jon appears, materializing as if out of thin air. His chest is rising and falling quickly. “I startled the hell out of some guy sleeping in the storage of a china shop.”

  “Older gentleman? White hair, big nose?” Jen probes Jon for more information.

  “No. Uniform. Young guy. I came to get you because I think I recognize the name. Wheaton? Didn’t you say something about a guy named Wheaton?”

  “Archie,” Jen breathes out and she begins to race down the street towards Pullman’s China Palace.

  We lag behind, only because Hoyt can only push my wheelchair so fast over
the uneven sidewalk and road. Jon keeps darting ahead and returning to us with updates. “It is the right guy. He’s hurt, but not badly. He dragged himself into the store last night after fighting off something he described as a pack of garden gnomes with spiked clubs. Sounds like rock trolls. They’re angry little things, and hard as heck to kill with their skin the way it is. I’m surprised he survived that.”

  Jon disappears again, but we’re almost there. I can hear Jen crying and a man’s voice consoling her. “Look at me. I’m a mess,” Jen talks. “You’re bleeding and yet I’m the one who’s an absolute wreck. I should be comforting you.”

  “I’m okay, Jen. Glad to see you. I was worried. So much for our date.”

  The pair came into view and I saw how Officer Wheaton was hugging onto Jen, his face absolutely pure with joy that the girl he likes is okay.

  When I get past the initial scene, I study Archie. He’s got more wounds than I’d originally seen. Punctures dot his uniform and most of the blood has dried. Nothing important must have gotten hit, artery or vein-wise or whatever. But he is pale. He does look weak.

  “Let’s take him back to the house,” I suggest. “We can patch him up there and regroup.”

  Jen nods and then looks at me hard. “We’ll regroup and talk over what you’re thinking of doing. We’ll talk it over, Tilda. Do you understand? No rushing off into danger. I will not lose you again.”

  It’s my turn to nod. I knew I had to go into the woods, no matter what anyone else said. I had to trust the psycho, but for now I’d let Jen have a win.

  Danger Swims and Flies

  “We need to see if there are more survivors,” Archie holds his side and limps next to Hoyt who supports him.

  “It’s a ghost town, Archie,” Jen looks around. “You’re the only person we’ve seen. The only… human.”

  Archie pales, the little bit of pink in his face rushing away. “That’s not possible.” He closes his eyes for a second, reopens them quickly. “I could hear the screams. I tried to move, to go outside and help. I’m supposed to help people.”

  Jen reaches out to hold Archie’s hand; she gives it a squeeze. “You were hurt, Archie. There was nothing you could have done.”

  “Sawyer and Lane were having an evening birthday party for their twins. They’d rented out the clubhouse and pool. I was supposed to stop by after my shift.” Archie tried to walk faster, shifting Hoyt’s direction forcibly. “I’ve got to check on them. They have to be okay. They’re my best friends.” He kept talking, mumbling about how he’d grown up with Sawyer and Lane. They were more like siblings than anything else. He was their twins’ godfather.

  The community pool is a few blocks removed from the main street. I’d taken swim lessons there when I was really little, when my grandparents were still alive, before we’d moved and mom had tried to keep me as far away from magic and the forest as possible.

  Please don’t let there be bodies. It’s the only thought I have as I turn the wheels and try to keep up with everyone. I can’t handle bodies, especially kid bodies.

  The French doors that lead into the pale yellow club house are broken. Pink and blue balloons hang, deflated or punctured, from bright green ribbons. A happy birthday sign hangs perfectly still above those doors, but I realize as we get nearer that the confetti design around the words hides the fact that there are splatters of blood in the mix.

  “I don’t think I can go in there,” Archie’s voice shakes. “I don’t think I can face it.”

  “Stay here then,” Jon says; his voice is neutral. Hoyt helps Archie lean against one of the exterior columns.

  “You okay, man?” Hoyt doesn’t leave Archie until he’s sure. Jen stays with the shaken-up officer, holding his hand and murmuring calming words.

  I begin to move forward, making my way to the broken doors, but Hoyt stops me. “You don’t need to go in there either, Tilda. We don’t all need nightmares.”

  Shaking my head, I push the wheels forward. “This is my fault. Maybe I deserve nightmares.”

  We pass through the club house gathering room. A table is overturned and two cakes—one princess and the other superhero—are smashed on the floor. There are also dinosaur cupcakes and I wonder which child loves those as well. Is it the little girl who is into tutus and fairy tales, but also triceratops and raptors? Or is it the little boy who could not choose between batman and a stegosaurus?

  There are a second set of French doors at the back of the room. These are also broken. Not hanging from hinges, but busted in the middle of each—as if a great creature had launched their body through the glass. I stop pushing the wheelchair forward. It’s hard to breath, hard to face the tragedy I have wrought.

  “There’s a lot of blood,” Jon is also stood still. The black veins are reaching out like spider webs again. His eyes are that unsettling burgundy. “I can usually resist. I’m sorry. I just ate and the predator is still at the surface.” He closes his eyes and doesn’t move a muscle. The lines in his face recede as he gains control.

  “I don’t see any bodies.” The relief is obvious in Hoyt’s voice as he says the words and takes away the biggest fear we’ve all held gingerly in our minds. “The pool is really dark though. And there is… blood everywhere.”

  Jon walks forward to join Hoyt. They open the doors slowly, though they both could have walked through the middle of each easily. Not me though. I need the path clear. I follow them out into the daylight. There’s so much blood. So much evidence of slaughter.

  And the pool is dark. Deepest navy blue instead of an inviting summer time aqua.

  I move around the boys. If I get closer, maybe I can see through to the depths of the water. What has caused the color to change? What manner of monster has killed so many?

  The boys are walking around the pool, checking beneath the large lounge chairs and within the thick, expertly-trimmed bushes that stand in a line a yard from the pool deck.

  “Guys,” I say slowly, staring down into the dark water that is now rippling with little bubbles rising to the surface and popping. “I think there’s something in there.”

  Jon is by my side quickly, grabbing the wheelchair and jerking me back from the edge. A giant, sleek body catapults upward. It is dark brown with a taupe pattern lightly imprinted on the pelt. I see a thick neck and forearms with claws and back legs that are webbed.

  “Selkie,” Jon grunts hoarsely behind me. “Son of a…” He turns me quickly, the wheelchair rising onto two wheels as I’m jerked about.

  The giant seal lands where my wheelchair once was by the edge of the pool. It tips back its head and barks loudly.

  And then, as we watch, the pelt of the seal begins to melt away, like molten lava has been poured over the animal. Bones pop and crack and the seal is barking again, the sound so pained it hurts my chest. Off-white spine appears, pushing through the liquefied flesh. The fur that once covered the seal sloughs to the ground in a mass of blood and hair. The bones are still repositioning, reforming.

  Eventually, a woman stands, naked and coated in viscous pink. “I like this world,” she says, her voice deep and heady with ulterior meaning. “Such easy prey.” She takes one step forward, her bare feet pushing into the skin she’s shed with a sickening squelch. Tipping her head back, just as her seal form had, she barks again. Four quick successive sounds.

  And the pool moves behind her, water gushing over the sides onto the deck as four more menacing seal bodies exit. They do not change forms. They bark and bare their teeth. Jon picks me up, wheelchair and all, and he races in blinding speed away from the pool.

  I scream Hoyt’s name, the sound disappearing into the wind that slaps my face as he employs vamp speed. When he sets me down, I realize we are back at Jen’s car. The pool is so far away. And Hoyt and Jen and Archie stand no chance against the selkies. “Oh my god. Oh my god. Jon!”

  I yell frantically for the vampire, but he is already gone. I start to move, rolling the wheelchair fast and furiously back from whence h
e’d carried me. I am startled still when Jon appears again, carrying Hoyt in his arms. He drops him unceremoniously onto the road in front of me. And then he is gone again.

  I scramble to the ground, throwing my upper body onto Hoyt as my dead lower body drags behind me. I cry and hug him. “I was so scared. You’re okay though. You’re okay,” I whimper into his neck and he holds me tightly.

  “I got to say, when push comes to shove, it’s not so bad to have a jerk vampire on our side.” Hoyt’s voice trembles; I wonder if there are earthquakes in his chest like there are in mine.

  Jon arrives back with Jen. Then Archie.

  “Get in the car,” he commands. He picks me up, pulling me away from Hoyt. I protest, but then fall silent. Jon is saving us all. I hug onto his neck gratefully as he supports me with one arm and opens the car door to shove me inside.

  ***

  We’re still technically in town. I watch the passing houses closely, hoping to catch a glimpse of movement in any of the windows. There had to be someone alive still. The monsters couldn’t have torn through town and killed everyone in so short a time. Could they have?

  And where were the monsters? An absolute army had poured out of the forest when the spell broke. Bigfoot and the two werewolves couldn’t be the only creatures still in town after the carnage. Did they eat their fills and then move onto the next town? Or did they go their separate ways, finally tasting freedom?

  What I think is a giant hawk dips low in the sky and almost looks as if it’ll hit the hood of the car before it rushes upwards again. It repeats this wave in the air several more times. And it seems to get larger every time it drops into view.

  “That’s strange for a bird to act like that,” Hoyt comments, leaning into the passenger window to try and see the bird better. I was in the front again with Jen.

  “Everything’s a little strange right now,” Jen says offhand, steering deftly around an overturned shopping cart outside the market. She doesn’t miss all the spilled food though, leaving a wake of crushed tomato carcasses behind.