Shadow's Dream

by Jami Gray

  Rory’s hands went to his hips, and he blew out a harsh breath, his face pale but resolute. “Right, okay then.” He looked at Cheveyo and motioned to a matching pair of smooth flat stones that suddenly took shape between them. “Let’s do this.”

  Walking over, Cheveyo took a seat, while Rory did the same. “First, tell me what you remember.”

  Rory sat tailor-style on the stone, one elbow braced on his thigh, chin in his hand. He closed his eyes. “I was coming back from a meeting in Phoenix, heading up the highway. Traffic wasn’t bad, the sun had gone down. Even though night hadn’t completely moved in, it was dark. I was worried, anxious…” his voice trailed off and frown lines inched over his forehead, slowly deepening.

  When he stayed quiet, Cheveyo prompted, “About what, Rory?”

  Rory’s eyes blinked open, his gaze unfocused, his confusion clear. “There was something I wanted to tell Tala.” His frown grew, and he tilted his head as if listening to invisible voices. “I saw someone—they shouldn’t have been there—” His pale face grayed, his eyes widened, then his breath hissed out as he winced. He pressed the heel of his hand into his eye. “I can’t—see them.”

  Hearing the agitated panic creeping into Rory’s voice, Cheveyo kept his voice low, soothing, “It’s okay, let’s focus on the accident, okay?” Because whatever it was Rory wanted to share with Tala, his inability to capture it would do nothing to help get him back to Anne and Pax, only agitate him. Better to leave that for the moment. When the druid’s breathing evened out, Cheveyo nudged him again. “So you’re driving home, it’s dark, what next?”

  Rory began speaking, and, as if dropped by an invisible hand, a movie screen filled with images appeared behind him, a visual accompaniment to his retelling.

  A dark highway, curves cut by headlights, Rory’s hands on the steering wheel, his wedding band winking in the dash’s light. A quick check of mirrors as he switched lanes when, from the other side of the road, a bright explosion coincided with a muffled report of a…gunshot?

  Cheveyo wasn’t sure on the sound, but he kept his attention on the images, letting Rory’s voice provide the narrative.

  The bright light faded, leaving behind burning afterimages. Rory instinctively jerked the steering wheel away from the light, the receding afterimages making it near impossible to see. The point, obviously, since the scene’s perspective tilted wildly, the car careening out of control as it bounced off the asphalt on to the rough easement.

  Rory’s voice rose as he fought the steering wheel, desperate to stop the inevitable. Sharp cracks sounded in time to the spreading spider web of cracks creeping across the windshield. Metal groaned and wailed. Rory’s curses went from shocked to angry to panicked. The airbag burst forth in choking cloud of suffocating white, while a searing punch of burning air carried chemical overtones. The scene turned and continued its sickening spin, horrific noises supplying nightmarish accompaniment. Pain bloomed in an unrelenting wave, then blessed darkness descended, the images fading to black.

  Cheveyo shook free of the phantom pain while across from him, Rory breathed heavily, his head hanging, his fists curled against his knees. Cheveyo gave Rory space to regather his composure and decided to play back the images. This time with no sound, no emotional resonance, just visuals. He kept his attention focused on the scene playing out, slowing it down so it crept by in a strange freeze frame. The flash of light that triggered the accident. Could be an oncoming car with its brights engaged. But there was something—there! He stopped the memories.

  Cheveyo inched back the memory, as if hitting rewind on a movie, going over each individual moment carefully. In that moment, as the afterimages faded and the car initially tipped, while the tires lost traction, he found what bothered him. There was no car attached to the sudden appearance of light. This wasn’t a careless use of brights because there was no car coming down the other side of the road. If there was no car, what was behind the light?

  Chapter Fourteen

  “A spell,” Rory answered Cheveyo’s silent question, his voice tight, angry. “It’s subtle, but there. I wasn’t looking for anything, was too caught up in getting home.” He stood up and pointed out an area to the left, by the side mirror. “Anchored, I think, in the mirror.”

  “Mirror magic?” Cheveyo wondered aloud. It would be a dangerous spell to master, thanks to the distorting properties of the mirror, but it could be done. If the witch or wizard was talented enough, subtle enough. He could think of a couple of names in Tala’s house that fit that particular bill. The suspicions he harbored gained teeth.

  “Maybe,” Rory muttered, his head canting as he peered closer. “Probably,” he corrected. When Cheveyo moved to stand beside him, he asked, “But why me?”

  “That would be the question, wouldn’t it?” Cheveyo murmured. “Perhaps it has something to do with what you saw.”

  Rory shot him a puzzled look.

  “Whatever it was you wanted to tell Tala?” He let the images inch forward, checking to see if there missed anything else.

  Next to him, Rory turned and began to pace, his hand gripping the back of his neck.

  Cheveyo let him go, giving him time to pull his fragmented memories together. Not that he held out much hope on getting much more, not now. The accident and the spell would wreak havoc on Rory’s recall ability for a while.

  Finally, Rory stilled, frustration radiating from him like a heat wave. “The more I try to remember, the more it slips through my fingers.”

  The pained obsessive note in Rory’s voice triggered an instinctive warning. “Then stop,” Cheveyo advised sharply, letting the memories drift away. There was nothing more to learn, not here. Better to concentrate on getting Rory out of this dream and back to the real world. “It’s enough, Rory, you’ve given us enough.”

  “But—” he protested.

  “No,” Cheveyo cut the younger man off, pieces coming together on one possibility of why Rory was in a coma.

  He stepped into Rory’s personal space and grabbed his upper arms, forcing the druid to focus on him and what he was saying. “You have a wife and son who need you. Anne and Pax.” He waited until recognition inched out the driving confusion. Picking up on his intensity, Rory’s gaze clung to Cheveyo’s even as he wrapped his hands around Cheveyo’s arms, his fingers digging in deep. Taking that sign as a positive, Cheveyo kept pushing, “You can’t afford to remain here, trying to capture the pieces. Let them go, and let’s work on finding your way home.”

  Standing so close, gave Cheveyo a ringside seat to Rory’s internal struggle and the barely there shadows clinging to the energy surrounding him. Strain was visible in the taunt lines of Rory’s neck, and a shudder wracked his frame.

  That damn mirror spell must have contained a weakened compulsion spell, one keeping Rory focused on what he couldn’t remember, instead of the loved ones waiting for him.

  Using his hold on Rory’s arm, Cheveyo wrapped his magic around the druid like a protective cloak. He didn’t break eye contact as he offered, “I promise you, Tala and I will figure out the rest. That’s not on you.”

  Rory swallowed, hard, and gave a jerky nod. With Cheveyo’s magic standing guard, the druid managed to gather his frayed energy together, the thin shadowy tendrils pulling like taffy strands before breaking. Each time he sucked in a deep breath, another strand broke. Then another, until only a fragile few remained. His body gave another shudder before he finally spoke. “You swear you’ll figure out what’s going on? I don’t like being used, especially against Tala.”

  Recognizing that Rory would use Cheveyo’s vow to break the remaining holds of the compulsion, he lifted his hand from Rory’s arm and place it over his heart. “I swear to you, I intend to figure out what is happening here, and I will do everything in my power to keep Tala safe.”

  He didn’t make the vow lightly, and even here in this non-corporal realm, his promise rang with power, tying him more tightly than any crafted spell. He didn’t mind, because
he meant every word. He couldn’t leave Rory here to die, and he had absolutely no intention of leaving Tala until her safety was assured and the threat eliminated.

  “Thank you,” Rory choked out, his body slumping as the last of the compulsion snapped under Cheveyo’s promise. “Damn, I’m sorry I didn’t sense it.”

  “No apologies needed.” He kept a steading hand on Rory. “We need to get you back.”

  Rory straightened slowly as if pained. He stepped back, and Cheveyo let him. Despite its paleness, grim determination colored the druid’s face. “Let’s do this.”

  Taking him at his word, Cheveyo didn’t waste time in forcing the world around him to shift. Ensuring his magic was tethered securely to Rory, Cheveyo brought the rest of his power to bear, forcing the river to slowly sink into place. Using the floating stones, he climbed out of the river, Rory on his heels. It should’ve been easy, but it was like climbing through cement. Each step was a fight, but eventually they made it to shore.

  The sunshine from earlier was gone, replaced by the ominous threat of a raging storm. Frigid wind tore at them as they fought their way back to the hunting trail, and Cheveyo bit off a curse, recognizing the signs for what they were.

  A few times he was forced to help Rory to his feet as the natural elements took savage pleasure in fighting them. By the time they made it to the bridge, Cheveyo was bent double under the gale-force winds and punishing rain.

  Rory dropped to his knees, even as he kept his grip on Cheveyo’s belt.

  In front of them, the bridge swayed violently. Getting across would be a bitch. Cheveyo knew he could make it, but it was the exhausted and drained Rory that worried him. The spell was determined to keep the druid, but Cheveyo was equally determined to wrest him from the magical hold.

  The faint scent of lilac and sage snuck under the ion-singed air and curled around him before slipping away. He raised his head, searching for the woman behind the magic. No one was there, but he could tell she was doing what she could to help.

  Sure enough, behind him, Rory found a new strength and pushed to his feet. Leaning in, he shouted in an effort to be heard over the screaming wind. “Keep going, I can make it!”

  Registering Tala’s unexpected support of the druid, Cheveyo took Rory at his word and began crossing the bridge. Each step a fight. Clawing one hand over the other, he used the bridge’s railing and the combined effort of their magic to pull them both along. In between the brutal gusts of wind and rain, he could barely make out Rory’s voice repeating the names of his wife and son, a talisman against the spell’s hold and a focal point as he continued to give what energy he could to Cheveyo’s fight.

  Only as they stumbled over the bridge’s midpoint did the insidious mirror spell shatter and break. Around them, the winds died, and the rain drifted away. No longer worried about being tossed off, Cheveyo let go of the railing and half turned to wrap an arm around Rory’s waist. The poor druid was exhausted. “Hang in there, Rory,” Cheveyo murmured even as Rory continued to whisper Anne and Pax’s name. “We’re almost there.”

  They crossed the last of the bridge and stopped. Fog hung in thick curtains, obscuring everything. To their right, the fog thinned and lightened.

  Next to him, Rory stiffened then lifted his head. “I can see her.” His voice was hoarse, but his wan face lit from within. “Anne!” He jerked away from Cheveyo and lurched forward, disappearing into the bright mist.

  Knowing he couldn’t follow, Cheveyo let him go, a sense of gratitude rising that Anne and her son would soon have their husband and father back. Like a taunt line being snapped, he felt the moment Rory returned to the mortal realm.

  The scent of lilac and sage grew stronger, wrapping around him like a physical touch, pulling him forward. “I’m coming,” he told the woman demanding his return.

  One moment he was walking through the fog, the next he was blinking his eyes open while alarms blared a hectic cacophony, blending in with a rush of bodies and voices. Blinking his way back, he found himself staring into Tala’s beautiful eyes as she crouched before him. Without thinking, he reached out and cupped her check. “Demanding woman.”

  Her smile chased away the worry in her eyes as she turned and pressed a soft kiss to his palm. “Stubborn man.”

  “You back?” The question came from above and behind him.

  Letting his head fall back, he found Chay glaring at him. “Yeah, I’m back.”

  As Tala shifted to get out of the way of hospital personnel rushing around Rory, she stood and tugged at his hand. “Let’s get out of here and let them work.”

  He stifled a groan as he got to his feet and stumbled after her, Chay bringing up the rear.

  Out in the hall, they were met by a smiling Danny. “Good job, son.”

  Feeling battered, Cheveyo shook his head carefully and turned to Chay. “I need you to check something out for me.” Catching movement farther down the hall, he adjusted his request. “Actually, I want you and Wyatt, to check something out.”

  Tala’s hold on his wrist tightened then relaxed, but he was grateful she didn’t let go. Instead, she stayed quiet, listening.

  Hearing his name, Wyatt sauntered up and joined them. It was a risk to send the wizard, but even if he was the one behind the mirror spell, Chay could more than handle him. Besides, best to know where your possible enemies were than worry about where they weren’t. “Go find out where they took Rory’s car and check the driver’s side mirror for magical traces.”

  Chay frowned, putting the unspoken pieces together with lightning quick accuracy. “A mirror spell?”

  “That’s what I’m thinking, but I want you two to confirm it.” Cheveyo split a look between them both. “Track it if you can, but let me know what you find.”

  “On it,” Wyatt said before lifting a hand to Danny and starting down the hall.

  “Hold up,” Chay’s voice brought Wyatt to a standstill, but Chay wasn’t watching him, he was staring at Cheveyo with a frown. “And where will you be?”

  “Tala and I are going to figure out who Rory was meeting, then head back to her home.”

  Chay was shaking his head before Cheveyo finished. “Nope, Wyatt can go check it out on his own.”

  “No, Wyatt can not,” Cheveyo snapped. “You will go with him and ensure that whatever was left behind won’t harm anyone else.”

  Chay’s face darkened and he took a step forward. “My job is here.”

  Chay’s clear challenge caused Cheveyo’s temper to slip a bit more. He pulled free of Tala’s hold and got into Chay’s face before growling, “Right now, your job is whatever I tell you it is.”

  “Think again. My assignment is to keep you safe.” Chay’s voice dropped lower, keeping their conversation between the two of them. “Even from yourself.”

  His implication swept through Cheveyo, lighting worn fuses until a white-hot conflagration swept away his tenuous hold on his temper. Despite the drain of dream walking, he called a flow of power with a flex of will. Ensuring the magic touched only Chay, Cheveyo ruthlessly sank controlling barbs deep. It was time to remind this admittedly lethal warrior who really was the biggest threat in the room. “Best you remember that I am your Magi, Chayton.”

  With each word, his power forced Chay to step back, his physical body under Cheveyo’s control. “And I protect myself.” Despite the younger witch’s impotent fury, Cheveyo forced Chay to turn until he was facing down the hall toward the exit door. Coming up behind him, Cheveyo whispered into Chay’s ear. “Lest you forget a recently learned lesson, before there were Wraiths, there was the Order.” He released his hold and added, “You were not the first to be feared.”

  Then he stepped back.

  Chay’s eyes widened in shock, and he turned his head carefully to Cheveyo. The questions swirling in his eyes held mute behind his clenched jaw.

  Holding his gaze, Cheveyo waited a heartbeat, then two as Chay readjusted his worldview, before asking calmly. “We good?”

  Ch
ay gave him a stiff nod, his reluctance obvious, then stretched his neck side to side with an audible crack. “Watch your ass.”

  Despite the fact the warning could be taken one of two ways, Cheveyo simply returned Chay’s nod.

  Chay studied him a moment longer, opened his mouth, rethought whatever he was considering, shut it, and shook his head. Instead, he turned to their silent witnesses. “Tala. Danny.” Then he headed toward where Wyatt waited.

  As he walked away, Cheveyo warned softly, “Be careful.”

  Chay raised a hand in acknowledgement and kept walking.

  Cheveyo watched the wizard and witch disappear down the hall, aware of Tala and Danny standing silently nearby.

  Only after the swinging door at the end of the hall closed, did Tala speak, breaking the heavy quiet. “Know that I’m not making aspirations on your authority, but what the hell, Cheveyo?”

  Catching the mix of worry and puzzlement in her voice, he sighed, trying not to wince from letting his temper get the better of him. “Chay takes his responsibilities too far sometimes.”

  “Be that as it may, he had a valid concern,” Danny pointed out. “You’ve not fared very well during your visits here.” When Cheveyo glared at him, Danny raised his hands in a conciliatory manner, a small smile playing over his lips. “Through no fault of your own, but still…”

  Between Tala’s exasperation and Danny’s gentle reprimand, Cheveyo couldn’t escape the niggle of remorse for his behavior. “Look, he means well, but sometimes he needs to remember who he’s dealing with.”

  Tala’s eyebrows rose until they nearly touched her hairline. “Oh, I’d say he won’t be forgetting who you are any time soon.”

  Behind them, Rory’s door opened and a nurse pushed out some sort of monitor on wheels. Amusement fading, Tala waited until she passed, before she asked, “You going to share what has you so on edge?”