Shadows and Sorcery: A Collection of Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance Novels

by Adkins, Heather Marie

  Her grandpa waited until Aileen and Eric were gone and then jumped up and tapped Riley’s hand excitedly. “We’re going to the library. Bring the cat and the rock.”

  Riley looked down at the letter in her lap.

  “Sorry, lass.” He stood, touching the wall. “I’ll try to tell you, best I may, what you want you know. Read your letter and come on up. Might beat me there anyway if those stairs fight against me.”

  “Okay, be there in a second. I just, you know, kind of want to read it alone.”

  “Understood, darling.” He shuffled out, trailing his hand along the wall as he went.

  Riley waited until he was gone before sliding her fingernail under the seal. She needed to read it, know what he’d written before she’d found him.

  The letter was folded twice, written on the thin recycled printer paper her mother always used. Her father’s handwriting seemed to lift off the page to hang frozen in front of her.

  My daughter,

  Time grows short for me to tell you of all that has happened since last week, how long may have passed since, I do not know. To be reading this, though, you are coming to terms with your own abilities, abilities you and I share, our heritage from my ancestors, and in some part from your mother’s as well. Both yours in good measure.

  Use the skills I taught you to aid in the awakening and growing of your emerging talents and embrace them. Practice with Carter. I have told him to teach you. He has powerful friends that can help you. Above all, don’t let fear defeat you, Riley. Fear can give us wings or clip them. It rests with you to either let it push you on or push you down. My best advice is to meet it square, cripple it before it cripples you. These powers are not to be feared, daughter, but welcomed as you would a new skill. Remember how proud you were when you finally gave the training dummy a roundhouse? It is the same, but with far greater satisfaction, I assure you.

  My father explained it to me as a way to go through life. Eyes open or eyes closed. Everyone else is walking blind. We are the old ones who must walk open to the world, seeing what is there, hidden in plain sight. Keep your charms near. That may be enough to keep you safe. If you need me, come here again. I will find you unless someone has found me first. Think of it as a world that lies close to our own, like the world you are so fond of imagining in the mirrors. This place is protected and cloaked. It is the best I can do for now.

  Leaving is going to rip me apart, but you will be safer without me. We are all in danger if I stay. Look to your grandfather to help you while I am away. Take care of your mother. She knows nothing, and she needs your strength now. We all do.

  I hope you never read this. Perhaps I will be there tomorrow to put the gazing ball in our new garden and plant the roses Carter gave us. Perhaps I will teach you myself to walk the paths as I should have done long before. If not, know that I love you and your mother more than life, longer than death.

  Saints be with you until I am.

  Dad

  Riley folded the letter, tears clouding her vision as she tried to stand. The cat wove in between her legs, purring and arching her back. Riley closed her eyes and let herself envision that day at the festival. She slowed the pictures in her mind, saw the nail move serpent-like between her fingers, then heard the ripping of tendons in the man’s hand. She could see the hollow eyes hover above her. Instead of closing the image off, she studied it, saw the blackness give way to a flash of red as the face smiled, satisfied. She tried to hold the picture of his smirk, but something else swam into her vision. The plaintive white face of a cat. Riley opened her eyes and looked down at her lap where the cat had perched atop her letter.

  “Belle? Do you know something?”

  “Meow?”

  “I wish you could talk.” Riley tugged the paper out from under the cat and pushed the letter deep in her front pockets as she picked her up. She scratched the cat’s neck and her fingernail caught on something thin and metal. Parting the long white fur, Riley slipped her fingers under the dainty golden chain clasped close around its neck, following the links to a small pendant buried in the thick fur. The cat closed its eyes and did not fight, even when Riley snagged some fur on the chain’s clasp.

  Riley turned toward the light of the kitchen windows and stared at the engraved letters. Written in calligraphy was one word, Belle.

  “I knew it.” She flipped the disk over, expecting an address or number, but it was blank. Riley put her cheek against Belle’s and stroked the soft ears as she carried her up the stairs toward the library.

  The hallway was fully lit. The metal dogs were in full relief, and Riley shied away from the metalwork as she walked through into the room. Her grandpa’s back was to her by the spiral staircase. He was looking up and holding a thick volume that had a tattered spine and covering.

  “Grandpa. It is Emma Aubrey’s Belle. Look.”

  He turned to her and inspected the tag she held up. “Well, sure and it is. Leave it to Emma to send reinforcements. At least, I hope that’s what happened. Here, thought I’d show you something about our dear Emma. Remember her eyes?”

  “Yeah, they were hard to forget. One blue, one green. Why?”

  He passed the volume to her, opened to a drawing of a woman with three large cats circling her on one page, and a passage about her on the right. Riley scanned the picture, pausing at the face. The overlarge eyes of the drawing were different. One an almost purplish blue, the other an emerald green. The hair was golden and curled high on her head. It reminded Riley of the old Egyptian drawings in her art history book, especially the hands, which were covered in tattoos of birds and crosses shaped like ankhs.

  “What is this supposed to be?” Riley glanced at the text. “It’s in another language. Is it Gaelic?”

  “The old language, yes.” He scratched his chin. “I’ve never seen this stuff before. I know most all the old legends, but this—" He pointed to the picture. “This is Greek to me. I think I heard Sean talk of some of it. I just wish I had paid more attention, instead of chasing girls.”

  “What does it mean?”

  “I think she’s descended from old goddesses with more power than she lets on, but I dare not ask. I wouldn’t want to pry.”He smiled. “Besides, she’s been very good to me.”

  Riley tried to make sense of the page. So many secrets were held from her. She thought about her father’s letter.

  “Grandpa, the letter said you were supposed to teach me. Why did you wait until now?”

  “I tried. Every time I’d bring up your father, Gillian would shut down, shut me out. It was like she automatically stopped listening to me anytime I even got close to mentioning magic.” He sat down on the third step and took Belle from Riley’s arms. “She never wanted anything to do with what I believed. Didn’t want me messing up your head with nonsense, she said.”

  Probably her father’s spell, but her mom was always a no-nonsense woman. Still, why hadn’t he told her, tried to tell her in secret? “What about me needing to know?”

  He nodded. “I know, lass. No one knew you’d be this powerful. But you have to believe all things work out as they should. It’s the law of magic, the law of the universe. What will be will be. Besides, you’re getting an education now.”

  “Very little, it feels like.” She heard the frustration in her voice. “Dad said you had powerful friends. Did he mean Aileen and her family?”

  “Part,” he said, taking out his pocket watch and turning the dial. “And part, no. There are others as have skills, abilities or powers, if you will.”

  “Who? Should I meet them? If I have to face Brown again, what will I do?” Riley drew a shaky breath. “He’ll kill me, won’t he? Like he tried to kill Dad and probably did kill Sean.”

  “He’ll have to get through some pretty good defenses and then me at the end of said line. I’ll show him to mess with the O’Donnell family.” He slammed a fist on the stair. “And we have started your education in earnest. Your father has prepared you well, whether your reali
ze it or not. Plus, tonight, the best teachers of the old way will dine with us. You’re in for a real treat, darling. A spectacular show of agility of mind and body.”

  “Sounds good. Who are they?”

  “Your teachers, the guardians, members of the Order, my dear. Here.” He handed her the book. “Look through this before dinner. Maybe something will jump out at you.”

  “Okay.” Riley shrugged and leaned against the shelves. It gave way, almost knocking her off her feet. “Oh gah.”

  He grabbed her waist. “Steady, darling.”

  “Oh, Grandpa, I’m so sorry.”

  “Pfft, darling, that old shelf has been creaking since I got here. As long as you didn’t hurt yourself?”

  Riley flexed her wrist. “No, I’m okay.”

  “Not to worry, then. It was bound to go sooner than later. When I moved these books off while ago, that one among them.” He pointed to the illustrated tatters in her hand. “It kind of gave a sigh at the lost weight, like it gave up the ghost.”

  He smiled and pulled at the splintered boards that had fallen. He coughed at the dust particles that rose with each shift of the old wood. His brow knit together and he traced the discolored mortar that surrounded an almost perfectly rounded stone.

  “Look at this.”

  Riley leaned forward as he wiped the stone off with his handkerchief. A missing stone had been replaced at some point perhaps. “What is it?”

  “I don’t know.” He pressed a fingertip to the caulked line. “I need a chisel or something sharp to dig out the mortar. Have to use my knife, I guess.”

  He pulled out a tiny ivory-handled knife, like the one Eric had wielded in the field.

  “You have one just like Eric’s.” Riley saw the tiny button that blended with the design. It sliced through the muddled air just as Eric’s had earlier. “That’s pretty awesome, Grandpa.”

  “We all have these. Aileen’s husband makes them. She sells some knock-offs in her shop, but we like to think of ourselves as a select group. Wielders of power, as it were, as well as wielders of powerful weapons. The weapon fits the person’s strengths. As you can see, mine is only for up-close damage.” He laughed and let Riley touch the handle.

  “It tingles a little.” Riley let it balance on her fingers. “Is it an object of power, too?”

  “Yes, but not for projecting or locating. It’s solely for protection, though I’m hoping a bit of stone and mortar work won’t damage its sensibilities.”

  He scraped at the seal. The dust motes played thickly in the air with each movement he made. Between the fallen shelf and the flaking mortar, the air looked like bacteria under a microscope.

  Riley coughed and stepped back, fanning the particles from her face.

  “Watch your step there. Did Eric show you aught else this morning?”

  “We played around with elements, except for water. He taught me to let a stone fall through my hand.” Riley massaged her palm, still feeling the oddness at its center.

  “Good, practice that, too.”

  He chipped at the seam. The seal began to crumble at the bottom.

  “That’s promising,” he said to himself then glanced back at her. “Magic with stone, eh? Your father was a master of it. The old gods, they put a lot into the stones of our world. Stands to reason, it’s a great skill to have. Never was able to do it, myself.”

  “Oh, well, it took me a lot of tries.”

  “You don’t have to spare my feelings, darling. That’s the way of it, is all. As late as I came to the game and as unprepared, I count myself lucky to work what power I can harness.” Her slid the blade in at an angle and worked it back and forth. “Your father now, he’s a horse of a different hue. Born to it. The things he can do, your father. It fair staggers the mind, it does.”

  Belle jumped to Riley’s shoulder and hissed. Her meow was guttural but strong, and Riley thought she saw movement just beyond the shadows.

  Her grandpa seemed unaware. Riley huddled closer to him and unconsciously threw out a hand over his back. She looked behind her toward the section of books flanked by sputtering sconces. Something caught her eye, and a small, dark shape scurried under the empty fireplace. Her neck hair rose.

  “Grandpa, do you have mice?”

  “Yes, probably will until all the restoration is done. So many places for them to get in. There.” He closed the blade and pulled at the stone. “Put your fingers in there and pull a little, Riley.”

  Belle clung to her shoulder still as Riley helped Carter pull the stone free from the wall. Her grandpa coughed, and Belle sneezed.

  “This is it?” Her grandpa’s incredulous question boomed out in the library. “A chisel? I chiseled out a rock to get a chisel? A rusty, deformed chisel.”

  “Let me see.”

  He handed her the chisel. It was sharp-edged at one end and rounded softly at the other. Flakes of rust came off as her thumb rubbed it. “I think it’s pretty old. Could be something else, I guess.”

  Riley tried to match it up to ancient tools she had seen and came up empty.

  “You keep it, then.” He was plainly disappointed.

  “We’ll figure it out, Grandpa. We will.” Riley patted his slumped shoulder and he straightened. “Might be valuable.”

  “I know, lass, I appreciate your efforts. It means the world to me to have you here and to have your help finding what happened to Sean.” He patted Belle and wiped his hands on his pants. The dust clung to them in parallel streaks on either pant leg. “Why don’t you take a rest in your room and look over that book, and I’ll fix us some sandwiches and tea in a few hours. Want me to come and get you up?”

  “Okay. Or just yell. I’ll come down.” Riley followed him out of the library, the chisel in her back pocket and the book under her arm. She was still conscious of the very watchful Belle clinging with sharp claws dug into her shoulder.

  Her grandpa paused at the head of the stairs. “I’ll be down messing with the phone lines. I’ll yell up in a bit.”

  “Okay.” His mention of the phones reminded her that she hadn’t responded to Liz’s text from earlier. It was an excited hope-all-is-hotties-and-sunshine text. Normal. How did she respond to normal? She made a mental note to text her back, feeling like a bad friend.

  Her room was chillier than the library. Shutting the door behind Belle, Riley put the book on the dresser and tucked her father’s letter into her purse before pulling the chisel from her back pocket. She placed it on top of the book and wiped the rust off her hands before she took off her shoes. She changed out of her damp clothes and into the nightgown her mother had given her and snuggled down under the covers.

  She grabbed her phone and texted Liz a long message about how great Ireland was. She lied about having a lot of fun and hit send. Liz responded almost immediately, and Riley felt she owed her more than short replies.

  Belle joined her on the bed, springing up gracefully and walking the length of the bed before settling near the footboard. Riley listened to the sounds emanating from the walls, the slow grindings of stone against mortar, of stone against stone where mortar no longer ran. She could imagine the whole castle falling to pieces in a pile of dust. Something nagged at the edges of her memory. Hadn’t Sean written something about the shifting stones?

  She told Liz she had to go help her grandpa, which was true, and signed off with enough heart emojis to feel less like a jerk for not talking to Liz. She put the phone on the nightstand and nudged Belle. The cat stretched and pawed at the blanket near Riley’s feet. Yawning, Belle snuggled closer and purred softly. Riley tried to keep her movements as smooth as possible as she reached for Sean’s journal.

  She read, frowning more and more with each page. Getting caught up in his life again was unsettling. His depiction of his days in the castle made her heart ache in sympathy. What he had once considered his favorite haunts had been taken over by Dr. Brown, who was wooing his mother. Only the library and his room seemed to be safe from Brown’s oppressive
shadow.

  I am learning the secrets of rock and stone, despite his thwarting. How he knows when I am here, I do not know. At least he cannot find me when he searches. I taste the pleasure of that for days. And now that I know how to stand here among my father’s books, among the hidden knowledge of Donahue and Mangan, these men from under the hills, he has grown angrier. I fear he will hurt them if ever he finds out.

  The them he mentioned had to be his mother and sister. Riley hated to read more. The entries became brief, sometimes only a line, until there, on the last page was one word: Smaed.

  She frowned and closed the journal. What happened to Sean? Had Brown killed him? The thought saddened and enraged her. She remembered the fears she had felt at the fall festival, the horrible defense that had saved her. And Tsura who’d risked exposure for her. Her family, her grandpa’s friends … everyone had rallied around her. Poor Sean had been all alone. A tear ran down her cheek and wavered at her chin. She wiped it off with the back of her hand and ran her finger over the journal.

  A strong tingling sensation played at her hand. Riley pushed back the sleeves of her frilly gown and traced the gold letters on the journal’s cover. The sensation intensified, and she was falling like before, projecting.

  Everything was suddenly dim. Her eyes strained to see the objects in front of her that her hands and feet sensed before they touched them. It was wood, shelves lined with books, and trinkets. Riley eased forward and groaned as something metal made contact with her stomach. Her hand reached out to steady herself and she felt the smooth, round globe spinning slowly on its axis. Why was she in the library?

  The light became brighter.

  “Who goes there?” A voice from behind the bookcase startled her.

  She stopped the globe with her hands and glanced over her shoulder.

  There was a boy standing there holding a lantern and a book. He met her gaze. She couldn’t stop staring at him. He looked like he stepped off the cover of a magazine. His white shirt was unbuttoned and his chest bare. His slightly curly hair contrasted darkly against his pale skin. She took in the abdominal muscles moving as he walked and could see only a faint suggestion of hair at his navel. She felt herself blushing and tried to meet his gaze again without letting her face grow redder. He smiled and reached toward her, dropping the book. He stepped on it, and its spine ripped, but he kept walking toward her, oblivious.