Shadows of Ourselves (The Charmers Series Book 1)

by Apollo Blake

  You can’t win a war with optimism and numbers—you need to be ready. To fight. To kill. Deep in your bones you have to choose become the wolf who lunges from the trees and goes for the throat.

  When the time came to face Crayton, I would do whatever I had to. To protect what was mine. To survive. To punish him, if nobody else was going to. I would show him I wasn’t something to play with, some mouse to be chased through my own city as if he were the cat.

  If Althea could make it easier, I couldn’t afford not to speak to her. To try. Hunter wanted to go alone, wanted to be the one to take care of Crayton.

  But I didn’t want him throwing himself between me and his father and then being unable to finish it.

  If it came to that, if I had to be the one to end his life, I should be prepared.

  It was slow going, trying to avoid Hunter. I didn’t want to run into him in the mall or on the elevator, so I had to be sure to stay behind him. Once he left Althea’s I would slip in after him and try to figure out anything I could before I ran back to Temptation like my life depended on it.

  The mall was still a ghost town when I stepped inside. I used the upstairs entrance across from the bottom of the market, hoping he would use the main one, downstairs.

  In here I was surrounded by the ordinary, tiny Christmas trees strung with bulbs (God, one month until fucking Christmas), bright florescent lights and lemon-scented floor cleaner. But I could feel the magik of this place, the wonder waiting beneath the ordinary, like it was reaching up to me.

  I waited. I waited some more. Time bottlenecked, dragged, left me dropping onto a bench and staring at my reflection in the long mirrored column next to me.

  I looked louder. Sharper. Like all the weak stone had crumbled away and left nothing but bedrock behind.

  Maybe it was the magik. Maybe I was just done with all the bullshit.

  Walking to the railing near the edge of the escalator, I stared down. I could see the food court, two floors below. I didn’t move. For a minute I had to do nothing but stand there, blissfully alone. This would be the first step of an endless path, a fight that would lead through exhaustion and sunrise and bloodshed and so much pain. A day of hunting, searching before we found him, maybe. A reprieve. And then. . . .

  The escalator kept running around and around. A security guard walked on the other side of the atrium, face blurred from distance. The song playing on the scratchy speakers turned to something slower. Time would trickle slowly on whether I was running or standing still or painting Hunter’s skin with my spit and tears or chasing visions and madmen.

  Resisting the urge to close my eyes and sleep where I stood, I went down.

  Timing was everything. I figured by now Hunter would be down the stairs, well on his way to Althea’s, but there was no guarantee. It was a shame the bond didn’t come with GPS or something.

  I breezed through the empty food court, boots squeaking on the freshly mopped floors.

  It was odd to be retaking this trip again, two days later, after all that had happened. Wednesday morning seemed a million years away now—the fight with Mom, clinging to hunter in the pool. . .killing Crayton was hardly the last of my worries. I had so much I still had to sort out, decisions I might not be ready to make.

  The elevator doors splitting open cut my thought process in half. The cool darkness, the soft, otherworldly glow of the Pathfinders, chiming light through the silence.

  I walked the winding path to the plaza and stared down at the bazaar—lines of booths and huts and a strange crowd, Pathfinders bobbing above them all. I scanned the area as I made my way down the stone steps, gaze crossing over a green-skinned girl dripping water, eyes glowing luminous yellow. A pale boy with shimmery silver hair and a black choker turned to reveal a pair of bat wings protruding from his back. Pixies darted around, through the paths and over the crowd, bits of light twirling in the air.

  And, at the bottom of the stairs, sitting alone, was a dog. No, more like a wolf than a dog, I realized as the canine turned to face me. A coyote. It stared, a pair of familiar silvery green eyes set into its pointed face.

  As I came close, there was a flash of power, fierce and pointed. Heat flooded my body.

  I still wasn’t used to that flash when I got close to other non-mortals. It’d only happened once or twice now, and I assumed it was the ping of their Signature, but I left it alone. This was different, though, than anyone else’s I’d met. It was more. . .thick. . .than theirs, if that made sense. Like I could feel it hanging in the air as if it were mist.

  I halted a few stairs from the bottom and watched it wearily. “I know who you are.”

  It glanced away, tongue lolling, less than impressed.

  “Fine. Ignore me.” I claimed the last few steps and walked around the animal, leaving it behind. It didn’t move to attack me, or at all, so I pretended it wasn’t there.

  I was a few feet away when I heard it move, footsteps shifting in the dirt. When I turned back, Dezba stood watching me in the animal’s place, a smirk on her lips. Dark hair tied back, somehow fully clothed. She looked almost the same as she had that day in the vision, rocking high-waisted jeans and a white bustier top.

  “The eyes always give it away, huh?”

  “They did,” I said. “But that’s not what I was talking about.”

  She raised a single eyebrow and waited. I wasn’t sure I wanted to tell her. She seemed like she could be trouble. If she was, and she didn’t know who I was yet, I didn’t want to give her that advantage. We’d been in a practical cage match in my vision—we could very well be enemies.

  But that wasn’t the feeling the relived encounter had given me—I’d felt a sense of camaraderie there, pulsing beneath the vision, an emotion leftover from another life, imprinted on the history of the memory forever. It had been more challenging than dangerous. I got the feeling that we’d been working out together or something, a practise fight. At the same time, she didn’t seem like someone I would be friends with—coy and mysterious. Abrasive. She reminded me of our old neighbors’ Siberian Husky with heterochromia—beautiful, but paralyzingly eerie, in a way that suggested it might bite you if you got too close.

  Still, curiosity would tug at me until I pulled this loose thread. I had to see what I could find out, if there was anything she knew. “We knew each other in my last life.”

  A slow, delighted grin spread across her face, slightly smug. “I knew who you were the minute I laid eyes on you.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “How?”

  She actually tossed back her head and laughed. “You don’t know how to read signatures yet, do you?” She clicked her tongue, and said, “I wouldn’t worry about it. It will all start to come back in time. You always were one of the best. Although, I have to say” —she looked me up and down— “the whole ice princess twink look isn’t working for me. But I’m sure that old fire is still right there underneath the surface.” She grinned. “All I have to do is toss in the match and step back to watch the flames rise.”

  “Do you have any idea what a psycho you sound like?” I stepped closer to her, looking her in the eyes. “I have no idea how we’re connected, but I swear to God, if you fuck with me, I’ll find a way make you regret it. Fair warning.”

  “Oh, I’m counting on it.” Ugh.

  Her smile didn’t fade. She turned away and started up the stairs, no goodbye. I watched her go, heard her footsteps on the stone, and wondered if I was listening the sound of another mistake. I turned for the bazaar before she was out of sight.

  I wove my way through the crowd, a strange group as always, and ducked into the space between two of the wooden stalls—one covered in bright cloth bracelets and woven hemp jewelry, while the other was heaped with gears of different sizes. Some of them were stained—flecks of purple and green powder on shiny bronze and brass surfaces. God knew what those were for. . .

  The woman behind it, a pale thing with a narrow face and copper hair, pushed her glasses up her nose and ey
ed me suspiciously. I looked in the direction of Althea’s.

  The sapphire curtains draped over the open front end of the shop betrayed nothing. Light shined out around the edges of the blue fabric, assuring me that someone was inside. The place to the left of theirs, which looked like a magikal pet shop—all stacked cages and strange sounds—was lit up bright, and even as I watched a young, ordinary looking couple stepped inside to browse. On the other side, what looked like a tattoo shop was closed up, wide front windows showing a dark, sparsely furnished space with a modern design.

  Someone had stacked a few wooden pallets against the rear side of the copper-haired woman’s stall, which gave me a bit of cover. I stood just behind them, covered by distance and darkness, sure Hunter would miss me when he came out.

  I watched. Waited.

  Twenty minutes ago I’d been ready to fall over and sleep for a hundred years, but I wasn’t as tired now. In fact as I waited I had to resist the urge to pace. My thoughts had come to me slowly, like I had to pull them through thick layers of mud, but now my mind raced.

  Was it the energy of this place filling me up like some kind of magikal brain stimulant? It felt like a different world down here, time passed differently—who knew what kind of effects it was really having on us?

  Whatever it was I was glad for it—I just hoped it didn’t wear off before I could take full advantage of it.

  After about twenty minutes the curtain parted near the edge of the wall and Hunter slipped out of Althea’s. I ducked further behind the wooden pallets, watching as he walked towards the bazaar. Panic. Was he about to stroll right by me?

  I held my breath, pushing deeper into the tight space behind me, but seconds passed and he didn’t come by. I peered out slowly, cautiously. He was gone. He’d taken a different path through the row of huts. I looked over my shoulder, but I didn’t see him in the crowd either.

  Heart in my throat, I stepped out into the lane between the bazaar and the wall of the cave. Coast was clear.

  I ran to Althea’s and slipped inside without stopping.

  Fuck. This is going to kill me.

  Warmth, and comforting light, and Althea watching me without a bit of surprise.

  “Took you long enough,” she said, and reached for her tea.

  Easy for her to say, but I wasn’t here to piss the ancient thing off. I had to get answers. Stepping deeper into the shop, I ran my hands over the thighs of my jeans, trying to wipe away the sweat from my palms. The air in here smelled like incense and tea leaves and perfume, and my head swam.

  No point in wasting time.

  “Did you visit me in a dream? Send me a vision?”

  She took a long, deep sip and set the cup down. “You can never be sure with dreaming, can you?”

  “Oh for God’s sake.” I walked over and dropped onto the couch beside her armchair, slumping down. “Can we please not be vague right now? I’m trying to hunt down and kill your son. It’s kind of got me in a rush.”

  There was a commotion as Ursa walked in from the next room. They were working pretty late. I wondered when Althea ever left, where she went. Ursa clearly had a normal life—they were holding their iPhone in one hand and a paper coffee cup in the other. Althea was the freaky paranormal one. What did she do, when she wasn’t doing this?

  “You just missed Hunter,” Ursa said, coming over to sit beside me.

  “That was on purpose.” I jerked my thumb at Althea. “Know how to make her stop talking like a fortune cookie?”

  Althea swatted me on the back of the head faster than I’d even thought she could move. Jesus! I scooted away from her, glaring daggers, but she was already settling back into her chair, looking perfectly serene.

  She’d taken on Axel and Destiny on her own—what else was she capable of?

  "That’s just how she is.” Ursa took a sip of their coffee and set it on the table. When they sat down they placed their phone on the arm of the couch and leaned back, looking between us. “What are you asking her?”

  “If she came to me in a dream,” I explained, and looked at her. “Did you?”

  Althea’s dark eyes met mine—she had the same black orbs as hunter, impenetrable and full of emotion at the same time, a flickering blackness, always shifting. “I did.”

  I slid forward, coming even more awake. “What did it mean?”

  “Next question.”

  “What?”

  Althea moved forward and I winced, but she just scowled and reached for her tea again. “If I thought you were ready to know everything I wouldn’t have given you a cryptic prophecy now, would I? It was something that came to me a long time ago to be passed on when you arrived—and you’ll divulge the meaning when you’re ready. Now, next question. I’m assuming there are more, are there not?”

  “Fine.” I huffed. “How do I awaken the powers I got from the relic?”

  “You found a relic?” Ursa asked, sitting up. “That cathedral creeps me out.”

  “It’s old, powerful magik,” Althea explained, “and it takes time to settle in. But I can speed the process along, like nudging someone forward as they run. You’ll need to help. Give me your hands and be ready to focus.”

  “On what?” I slid to the edge of the couch and took Althea’s cold, slightly wrinkled hands.

  She wore three rings on each finger, amethyst and aquamarine and rainbow jasper. (I’d spent hours poring over web pages about gemstones in middle school, on the beat up old school computers.) And she had a tiny tattoo, a rose unfurling its petals, one of them dropping toward her wrist as if caught in a breeze. For someone well over seventy, she’d aged well—I would place her in her early fifties if Hunter hadn’t told me how old she was. Althea’s grip was still warm from holding the mug of tea, and I felt her power pulsing through my skin, setting my teeth on edge. Crayton may have drained some of her gifts, but this woman was still a formidable power, that much I could tell.

  She met my gaze and bowed her head. “Focus on your magik, reach into the well inside of you and try to feel the form of it, learn how it moves and shapes itself around your desires, how it flows. Your magik is part of you, an extension of your soul, your will. It bows to you alone. Find it.”

  Because that was specific. I let out a sigh but tried to follow instructions. This could save my life soon if it worked.

  Eyes closed, heartbeat racing, unsure of where to start. I focused on the feel of magik, the way it ran through my limbs and my blood and my brain like nothing I’d ever felt, a kind of thrill rushing through me, its own brand of adrenaline or energy. An electrical current. Like touching the end of a live wire. Slowly, as if reluctant to show itself, something new began to snake through my magik, though, like a reaching hand pushing into it—and suddenly something snapped open inside of me.

  Sensations flooded me, and I fell back, away from Althea. “Christ!”

  I felt them, sensed them—Althea and Ursa. Their signatures.

  It was more than I’d gotten before, as if I’d only been receiving half of a signal, across too much distance. Now they were unique and crackling, all-consuming for a few precious seconds. Althea’s was a slow, steady hum, the brush of dark velvet, the lone cry of a wolf in the woods before the crack of thunder, while Ursa’s was more vibrant, strings of raw silk and the brush of a wingbeat.

  I could tell were they sat, the distance between us a palpable thing, like even if I closed my eyes, or left the room, I would be able to feel them, through the dark, through the concrete, and place them perfectly. It was like a sixth sense had awakened. Althea’s energy snapped like a whip, burning white-hot, while Ursa’s was lighter, something ethereal and brisk.

  And outside—oh, there was so, so much to feel. It was an overload, like I’d become part of a new species, or even the atoms in the air, my mind expanding into directions I hadn’t known existed until now.

  Magik swirled around me, leaving me dizzy and punch drunk and laughing like a lunatic. It wasn’t just part of the landscape down he
re—it was part of the world, part of everything. I finally understood what they all meant when they’d said that, they way it brought you down to the core of everything until you felt the world combine into one particle that just exploded into a shatter of confetti and light around you. Magik raining in my mind.

  On top of Althea and Ursa’s essences were other things—like traces of cologne clinging to your coat after you brush against someone else, bits of other Charmers that lingered on them—the same way Hunter’s signature had clung to me, it now clung to both of them.

  And it flooded the bond, overloaded it, sent streams of lust and energy and grief and rage through me in equal measure. His emotions, anxiety and affection and dread, were carried to me on a black wave, the swell of the ocean and whistling howl of arctic wind.