Lincoln’s eyes immediately shift to the store. The other man grabs his shoulder, a smirk set on his face directed at me and me alone. “I’ll take care of it. I have to hunt down the employee anyway. Seems he got scared and ran. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
The woman’s body lays on the ground, the bloody sword still clutched in her hand. Her eyes are still open, staring at me, taunting me even in death. My teeth grind together as anger rises. Unable and not willing to stop myself, I march to her. My foot acts of its own accord and slams into her ribs – over and over again. Neither Lincoln nor Emmy try to stop me. Neither of them says anything to me as I take out my frustration on a dead body.
“Violent Violet is a real thing, huh?” the white-haired man asks. His black robes are draping into the puddle of blood beneath his feet, but he doesn’t seem to care. His foot kicks out and hits her from the opposite side. His lips curl into a smile. “Morbid … but fun nonetheless.”
Wasn’t he supposed to be taking care of Stanley and the cashier? My toes throb, but it’s worth it. “Thank you. Both of you. Whoever you are,” I mutter. Did he just use my nickname?
Lincoln’s brows draw together at my words. He faces his friend. “How long has she been here, Watcher?” When the other shrugs, his eyes fall back upon me. “Why are you in the human realm?”
I have no idea what he’s talking about and Emmy looks just as baffled by his question as I feel. He called me an elemental, whatever that means. Is he referring to Earth as the human realm?
“She doesn’t know what she is or where she’s from. Neither does her sister.” The one called Watcher says as he glides toward us. “Your time in the human realm has reached an end. It’s time for both of you to return home, to return to where you belong.”
“And where might that be?” Emmy and I ask together.
Lincoln steps forward as well, the two of them facing the two of us. “Strega. A parallel realm to this one. Magic doesn’t belong on Earth, Violet. It’s dangerous. If you’re caught …”
He doesn’t need to finish his sentence. I know what would happen. The experiments, the testing. I’ve seen enough movies to know that I would be examined until I died. My eyebrows raise as realization hits me like a softball to the face. “Did you just say magic?”
“Haven’t you wondered where the lightning comes from, Violet? It comes from you. From the magic within you. The magic that was blessed to you by Strega itself,” the Watcher chimes in.
Emmy and I glance at each other, neither of us speaking a single word of rebuttal.
“Give us a minute.” I grab onto Emmy’s wrist, tugging her several feet away from them.
“Holy shit, Vi.” Her eyes go wide as she points in their direction. “I mean … holy shit!” You know it’s bad when Emmy curses.
“I know. But right now, that’s not what I’m worried about, Em. These people, the ones after me, are relentless. I mean think about it … they found us at the bar, leaving the damn dentist, and now at a random gas station in the middle of nowhere! It’s like … like they know where we’ll be before we do. We’ve been lucky so far, tonight included. I’d be dead or wishing I was if it wasn’t for them.”
“You want to go with them?” she asks.
I understand her concern, I do. But … what happens when our luck runs out? I grab her wrist, pulling her back towards the men. “Who’s after us? What do they want? Will they continue chasing us until they capture me?”
They share a glance; the Watcher finally nudges Lincoln in the back, suggesting that he be the one to answer me. “This was not the first time, was it? Based on the dead witch’s power, she belonged to Aetheries – a clan of dark elementals. They are dangerous and lethal. I do not know why they want you, but my guess is they won’t stop. Not until they get what they want.”
“Obviously these people are from the same place as the two of you. How would it be safer for us there?” Logic tells me that being at your enemy’s doorstep, being closer to them, isn’t the best of ideas when they’re already hunting you.
“Because we’re there.” He glances to the man standing next to him, taking a deep breath before grinding his teeth together. “Apparently, you even have a … God … on your side.” The Watcher smiles broadly, puffing out his chest as Lincoln rolls his eyes.
I look the robed man up and down. He doesn’t look like a God. Judging by the way he kicked a dead girl with me, he doesn’t act like one either. But he did heal me; does that make him a God?
I nod, dragging Emmy away once more. We both whisper/yell over each other, making it impossible to understand what the other is saying. After several minutes, we stand there in silence, our arms crossed over our chests. “So, are we agreed?”
“Yup.” We always fight like this. I don’t understand how it works, but it’s a tried and true method of resolving things between us and we still come out as friends when we’re done. We walk over to the men. “How do we get there?”
The Watcher takes a large step towards us and places one hand on each of our shoulders. “Simple. I’ll take you. Only if you ask nicely, that is.” Who the hell does this guy think he is! He’s the one asking us to go in the first place! Now he wants me to beg him to take us there?
Lincoln steps forward, never taking his eyes from Emmy. “Watcher, we can’t take the human. You know this.”
“She’s Violet’s sister. Both by blood and by choice. She goes as well.” Umm, what? By blood? He means metaphorically, right? “Actually,” he mumbles as he removes his hand from Emmy’s shoulder. His fingers start to glow before reaching her lower abdomen. I smile. He’s healing her.
Sister? She looks nothing like me. We don’t share skin tones or hair color. Our body shapes are night and day different. Our eyes though. Silver eyes are rare. In fact I’ve never seen another set remotely like mine before or since I met Emmy. Is she my biological sister? Can it be possible?
Once the Watcher’s grip on Emmy’s shoulder returns, Lincoln releases a heavy sigh and places his arm around my waist anyway. I hiss at him, receiving a flawless smile in return. Seconds later, darkness floods my vision and cold permeates deep into my soul.
5
Hands planted on my knees, I try to collect myself. Everything is spinning to the point that my stomach rolls with eagerness to purge its contents. Emmy vomits the moment her feet touched the grass of wherever we now are. I don’t dare move until the queasiness subsides. Once I do, my mouth falls open.
We’ve landed in a valley, surrounded on all sides by towering mountains with white peaks. Trees bigger around than I am tall are scattered throughout this otherwise empty field. To one side, wedged up between two mountains, is a stone wall at least twenty feet high with a wrought iron gate in the middle. The men on top of the wall look more like ants in comparison than normal sized people. The sky is the most unique feature though. There are no puffy white clouds in a light blue sky. A mix between a rainbow and the Northern Lights, the sky is a variety of colors, in wisps that dance around in the wind. “What is this place?” I ask.
“Pensatore,” Lincoln answers. “It’s one of the three witch clans in Strega. This is our home.” The look on his face is one of boredom. Perhaps for someone who grew up here and saw it every day, it wouldn’t be much to look at anymore.
“What is the name of the place, though?” Emmy asks finally getting her bearings back. “You said Pensatore was the name of the clan.”
Lincoln cocks his head ever so slightly and frowns. “Name? There is no name, it is merely the location that Pensatore members call home.” He turns his back to us and begins walking through the knee-high grass towards the metal gate up ahead.
Emmy darts after him. “What are the names of the other clans? You said there were three?” Her voice is high pitched and almost squeaky.
“Rovente and Aetheries,” he answers stiffly. At the gas station he’d seemed almost confused as to what was going on. Now he seems annoyed that he had to bring us back here.
/> I run up to him, tugging on his elbow. Standing this close to him, I really notice the height difference between us. At 5’6”, I was above average for a woman, I’ve always felt tall. But Lincoln is clearly over six feet, his shoulders broad and hips narrow. He stares down at me with that annoyance plastered on his face. “So we aren’t on Earth anymore, right?”
“No,” he answers through gritted teeth. He jerks his arm free then continues his march.
The gate opens as we approach. I can only assume that it was done by someone inside of the walls. Inside of this area is nothing but grass for about a quarter of a mile and then another moss covered wall similar to the first. It almost reminds me of Troy and their giant wall that was supposed to keep them safe from their enemies.
The air smells like honeysuckle and the threat of rain. The grass crunches with every step. Birds chirp from overhead and laughter is seeping from the interior of the second wall. Is this truly the place that Emmy and I are from? Is this strange city and land going to be our new home?
The second iron gate grinds open. As we walk through it, the people atop the wall stare down at us, watching as both Emmy and I stop dead in our tracks. Lincoln continues walking, not realizing that he is very quickly leaving us behind.
Cobblestone paths lead in almost every direction. Straight ahead is a picnic area, complete with towering trees and little glowing bugs, where several sets of families sit in the green grass eating and talking together. To our right, in the direction that Lincoln is heading, is a wide wooden bridge extending high over a glistening blue stream. To our left appears to be mile after mile of gardens. Baskets are littered in each row, filled to the brim with colorful vegetables.
“I don’t have all day,” Lincoln barks loudly once he notices we aren’t behind him anymore.
Emmy speed walks towards him as I give her a hefty shove in the back. Past the bridge and stream, we reach an orchard. The fruit trees’ branches are heavy with their goods. People balance on the top rungs of ladders, reaching up to pluck the fruit free. The air is rich with the smell of something I can’t quiet put my finger on. It isn’t apples – in fact, none of the fruit looks familiar to me – it’s more of a cinnamon and sugar and pomegranate and peaches type aroma. And it smells good enough to eat.
Once through the orchard, the paths branch again. To our left appears to be a neighborhood. The houses are close together in a way that reminds me of a brand new housing development. They all look very similar to each other. Each is built with tan/brown stones, the same small front yards and identical heavy wood front doors.
Lincoln takes us to the right of that fork. The cobblestones here are heavily worn. Clearly this section is used enough to keep even the moss and weeds between the stones at bay. The laughter and constant chatter of people grows louder as we approach. Taller buildings stand on each side of the ever widening pathway. The clitter clatter of horse hooves on rock echo from the walls. Emmy and I find ourselves stopping once more as we take it all in.
This must be the hub, the main area for the residents. A woman stands in front of one of the shops whose windows read THE BURNING WICK. Her hands are stretched over her head and the green paisley awnings over each window spring up and lock themselves into place. Two children dart out in front of us, chasing each other. One of them, a little boy maybe 5 years old, tugs his shirt free, dropping it on the cobblestones, then white feathered wings shoot out of his back and he takes to the air. The boy being chased stops and his face turns into a grimace, his hands balling up into little fists. Suddenly he nearly doubles his size and starts barreling towards the other side of the street.
Small bistro tables are scattered everywhere, filled with people eating a variety of breads and drinking steaming teas. About five large chairs sit along the wall of one building, a makeshift sign next to it says THE SHINY COBBLER. Several teenage boys are crouched low, polishing shoes of the people in the chairs.
I finally start walking, the desire to see more of this place is more important than the need to stand awestruck at seeing people’s powers at work. I pass a narrow path that is wedged between two shops that apparently leads to THE SLANTED ANVIL. Pings and pangs of metalwork reach my ears even though I can’t see what is causing it. SPILLED INK’s window is filled with ancient looking paper, feathered pens, jars of black ink, and stack upon stack of books. Dozens of colorful carts are spread out as well, selling fresh meats, vegetables, and fruits. Their fragrance is delicious enough to make my stomach growl with hunger.
If this place has a fashion trend, I can’t seem to pick it out. Some women wear dresses with hidden petticoats beneath, completing their outfits with umbrellas and fans. Some of them have on cotton pants and loose fitting shirts that match the men’s attire. There are a handful of people of both genders that are dressed in black leather and have swords either on their hips or crossed on their backs.
“What is this place?” I ask Lincoln once we find him again.
“It’s called the Market,” he answers without slowing his pace at all. “It’s where you buy your food and goods. You can find just about anything here.”
Finally making it out of the Market, we come to the top of a small hill at the base of one of the mountains. This time, all three of us stop.
“Is that a castle?” Emmy asks in a dumbfounded, airy kind of way.
“Yes,” Lincoln answers immediately.
It’s not hard to tell what it is. It might be carved into a mountain, but with its huge pillars and balconies and stained glass windows, there is no mistaking it. “Is that where you are taking us?” I ask. “To your King?”
He glances over his shoulder at me but his gaze doesn’t linger. “Pensatore has no King and that title is frowned upon in this settlement. Maddox is our elected Lord.” The way he emphasizes that one word is not lost on me, but I decide not to ask about it. Not yet anyway.
Emmy starts heading down the hill, toward the thick forest of trees between us and the castle that is carved into the mountain face.
“Not yet,” Lincoln says abruptly. “We are waiting for someone.”
“Who?” I demand. When he doesn’t immediately answer me, I push harder. “Who are we waiting on?”
“My brother.”
My feet start to throb after statically standing for fifteen minutes. Emmy can’t seem to keep her mouth shut and keeps bombarding the poor guy with question after question. According to Lincoln, the handful of cash we have on us is not good in this settlement or anywhere else in Strega. The currency here uses coins and coins only. Each piece of silver has the same monetary amount – the equivalent to one coin is one dollar, at least that’s how I understand it.
He also explained to my sister that the primary clans in Strega are Rovente and Pensatore. Rovente is in the northern territories towards the ocean and those that belong to that clan possess elemental powers. Pensatore – where we are now – is snug in the Dewy mountain ranges in central Strega. This clan comprises those with physical and mental abilities. I’m about to ask about the third clan he mentioned earlier – Aetheries – when his brother shows up and interrupts us.
“Sorry,” the man mumbles. They do share some similarities but not many. Their eyes are the same, both a vivid shade of blue. His hair is cropped short and a darker brown than Lincoln’s. He’s a few inches shorter than Lincoln also, but has the same broad shoulders and narrow hips. He looks between both me and Emmy, his brows furrowing together when he sees the two of us.
“The Watcher said to bring both,” Lincoln says, answering the silent question that his brother clearly asked.
He nods in response then holds his hand out to me. “Hello, I’m Ben.”
My eyes jump from his face to his hand and back again. Feeling nicer than I normally do, I reach out for his hand, attempting to shake it. “Violet.” He seems utterly confused by my gesture and doesn’t know how to respond to it. Giving up, I finally just drop my hand.
“Emmy,” my sister announces with a large sm
ile on her face.
Ben simply nods. “Sorry to keep you both waiting. We should get going though.”
The two men take the lead, walking side by side into the forest. Emmy and I trail behind them a few feet. She twirls around and around taking everything in. She’s talking but I don’t hear a word she says. My attention is on Lincoln and Ben, walking in front of us.
“The guard took his time coming to get me. I got there as fast as I could,” Ben says.
“It’s fine. Where’s Kaleb?” Lincoln asks.
Ben laughs once before answering. “It’s Kaleb so who knows. He should already be there, though. At least, that’s what he told me this morning at breakfast.” Ben looks over his shoulder and I quickly avert my eyes, not wanting him to know I’m eavesdropping. “Two?”
Lincoln shrugs his muscled shoulders. “I don’t know. The Watcher didn’t elaborate. He said that they are sisters and both belong here. The dark haired one, Violet, she’s an elemental. Lightning.”
Enemy Of My Enemy (Price Of Power Book 1) Page 5