by Kade Cook
Shaking her head at the cryptic words, Gabrian asks, “What does that mean? Madorrah?” Gabrian steps closer to the spot where Madorrah had just stood but she is gone, no longer in the space that occupies the room. Gabrian turns to Shane wearing a sour dip in her mouth, her eyes confused and blank.
“I think she is done being social for today,” Shane says, rising from his wooden perch, and slides it back against the wall where he found it and sighs, hoping he has not strained his good graces with the little creature and that she will not run—knowing there is nothing he can do about it now. What he does know is that it is time to take Gabrian home and deal with the unfortunate aftermath that may follow.
“I know you didn’t get what you came for but at least she let us in the door. That is huge. I think she likes you,” he says, trying to help her see the magnificence in that.
But Gabrian just marches past him, making her way to the hole in the ceiling, and ignores his attempt at humour. “What is it with you people? Can’t any of you talk without twisting everything up into riddles?” She grips onto the wooden ladder and begins her ascension to the surface, hoping that this was not just a waste of her time—wondering if the old woman’s words held more within in them than what was allowed—that somewhere in between the lines of their strange conversation there is something hiding, something she can bend that must not be broken.
42
NECESSARY MEASURES
IN THE STILL OF THE night, Gabrian lies motionless on the surface but beneath her skin, every nerve is alive and aching to explode. A replay of Madorrah’s cryptic message and odd encounter is on repeat accompanied by images of Rachael’s body lying vacant without its owner.
I know that the old woman seemed crazy, and maybe she is, but I feel that she was trying to make me see something, something just for me...but what?
The old woman’s mood shift was immediate when questioned about Cera and the request of the stone denied. Rules, there must be rules...they cannot be broken but they can be bent, Gabrian whispers in her mind and eerily enough, the line reminds her of someone else she knows. Her body shudders, eyes scanning to see if her movements have disturbed the large body next to her, but he only utters a low guttural growl as he rolls over on his side.
She slides her fingers down to rest them over the smooth stone lying flush against her skin—its subtle vibration warms her as the tips of her fingers run along its edges, memorizing every curve of its existence. Pushing gently against the delicate metal that sheaths the gift, it bends with her touch, entrapment easily manipulated by her will. Her thoughts continue to search through the riddle, searching for a clue as she continues to twist and mold the enchanted metal.
Then, like a whispered secret from a long-lost friend, something enters her mind, the clue revealed, clearing in its meaning and of what she is to do with it.
Not wanting to be babysat or have eyes on her every move objecting to her decision, she slips inside Shane’s mind, only for a moment, and dances with his tumbling coloured images of slumber. A hint of guilt shadows her decision for what she is doing but she pushes it away as she takes his hand in hers and coerces his subconscious into a deeper level of slumber, temporarily—just long enough for her to slip away.
Removing her covers, she carefully slips out from beneath them. Finding yesterday’s clothes draped over a chair, she bundles them up beneath her arms and quickly dresses just outside the room, and steps out into the darkness of night.
STEPPING AS LIGHTLY as she can, Gabrian makes her way down the corridor, closer to room 231. Ducking into every shadow, she avoids any and all life forms as much as possible, wanting to stay out of the eyes of the nearby watchers. Nearing the last few steps of her trek, she hears the rumbling of two minds. The two thugs she encountered no more than a few hours ago are on guard, senses still on high alert searching for anything and everything—especially for a certain unwanted ‘Borrower’ who may try to pay her friend a visit.
“Damn it,” Gabrian curses under her breath. She bites down on her bottom lip, knowing what she has to do. Compulsion is not something that she likes to do—taking away someone’s choice or tampering with free will is against her morals—but she has to get to Rachael and these two are not going to let her do that unless she uses this part of who she is. The price of the guilt she will carry is worth it, just this one time.
Slipping in as gentle as she can, and trying to make her way in undetected, Gabrian finds the hum of their consciousness. Interweaving her own vibration in with theirs, she whispers her wordless enchantment. You do not see me. I am nothing more than a mirage manifested from fatigue. Close your eyes, search for nothing more than a moment of slumber, a moment that will wash away the ghost before you. When you awake, all will be well, as it should—undisturbed and forever on guard.
Never really having done this depth of compulsion before, Gabrian holds her breath as she steps out from her hiding spot behind the wall of the adjourning corridor and into the watcher’s direct line of sight.
A quick shift in their movements, and a sudden flare of blue shifts within their enclosing auras, sends Gabrian’s heartrate through the roof and nearly deafens her from the pounding in her ears. “Ah crap, I am cooked,” she spits out, turning on her heels slowly, ready to make a run for it.
One of the guards raises his hand and rubs at the edge of his eye just before lowering it and closing his lids, resting in their positions.
She halts her retreat and exhales a loud breathy reply. “Huh, cool.” Hoping that she sent them deep enough into their dream, Gabrian hurries across the floor, turns the knob on the door, and slips out of sight.
The high-pitched beeping of the monitor drags Gabrian from the shadows of the door. Her light steps echo loudly in her ears, though they are nothing more than the sound of the flutter of a butterfly’s wings against the wind.
She reaches in across the metal bars, slipping her fingers beneath Rachael’s motionless hand and grips it gently. Her response is void and it rips at Gabrian’s heart, her sight quickly blurring. She lifts a hand to wipe away the wetness then reaches out to trace her fingers along the edge of the bracelet bound to her wrist. Prying gently at the metal binding, she slips her thumb beneath its hold and pushes. At first the metal refuses but then gives way, allowing her to pull it free from her arm as if it were attached by mere string. Holding it tenderly within her palm, she lowers it over Rachael. Twisting her wrist over to face the ceiling, Gabrian touches the bracelet to her skin, preparing to attach it. Upon contact, the metal reacts and recoils from the touch, twisting inward, refusing to give in to its owners request to bond with her friend.
Gabrian’s eyes widen as the stone flares in a quick burst of iridescent light then darkens again. She twists her mouth as she watches the strange manifestation of the metal. Seeing it twist and bind protectively around the precious stone it is sworn to, Gabrian’s heart drops in her chest knowing what this means.
It will not accept her. It is only meant for one.
Refusing to believe that she went through all this trouble to get it to Rachael for nothing, she holds the defensive stone within her hands, staring down at it angrily. “Ah! You have to help me. I know you can...help me...help her.”
Hearing the minds of the watchers outside begin to stir from Gabrian’s forced delirium, her heart leaps into her throat. Panic swirls around her, making her aura flare out tinted with slivers of violet and iridescent white. Grabbing the hem at the bottom of her shirt, Gabrian pinches the edge and pulls hard, ripping the material into a frayed strand of cloth. Pulling hard again, she rips it free then slips the edge in around a loosened coil of metal.
She can feel the watchers waking, their thoughts more lucid and clear.
“If you won’t help me the way I want, then I will ask you to protect her as you have me,” Gabrian whispers to the stone, placing it against her lips and lets the words slip out around it, encasing it with her plea. “I know you are listening. I know you can hear me.
I know I don’t deserve anything for doing this to her...but she does, so please just help her find her way home.”
The noise outside is more than just inside her head. Someone is coming. Gabrian quickly stretches herself out to hover over Rachael. She reaches in behind her head, gently coaxing Rachael’s hair out of the way, and ties the contraption around her neck, tucking it discreetly under her Johnny-shirt and hiding it from sight.
The handle of the door clicks and Gabrian throws herself across the room to slink within the shadows behind the door, waiting motionless for it to open. Hearing the footsteps of both of the watchers enter the room, inspecting the premises, Gabrian presses her luck one more time and sneaks into their minds to force the clouds to cover their sight once more and touches their consciousness, asking it to surrender to her will, to believe she is not there and invisible to them. Gabrian leaps out from the shadows and slips through the narrow crack in the doorway, fading into the emptiness of the corridor beyond.
Finding nothing out of the ordinary, the watchers turn and exit the room, leaving it dark and without disruption, nothing but the steady monotone beeping of Rachael’s heart monitor to keep her company. Nothing at all—except Gabrian’s gift hidden beneath the cloth hospital gown, resting gently upon her chest.
A blinding flare lights the room for only a second from beneath Rachael’s cloak, casting a faint iridescent glow to wash over her skin that ripples and runs over the entirely of her form. The heart rate monitor spikes with a sharp pitch in one long shrieking beat then settles again into its irritating squeak, the magic spent and the room once more as it was—empty.
43
UNNATURAL SHOW OF KINDNESS
HURRYING TO THE DARKEST corner she can find, and as quickly as she can, Gabrian tucks herself into a ball upon the cold ceramic tiles within the darkest part of the closet, her skin burning from beneath as the massive surge of adrenaline expires in her quick attempt to get away. With her arms wrapped securely around her head, her body tremors in the wake of the tears that have welled their way back into her eyes, drowning her once again in the sorrow of her sins.
“She will be all right.” A familiar voice breaks through her silent breakdown, jarring her from the grip of her own internal war, and causes her to jump straight into defence mode knowing that she has broken the rules again.
Raising her arm, Gabrian swipes at her eyes, trying to remove the layer of water blurring and interfering with her sight of the Elder before her as she prepares to be scolded by him. But once her view clears, she notices his eyes are not cold. They do not carry the harsh hateful glare that he usually bestows upon her when they meet. A soft concern lies within his gaze that meshes with the gentle tone in his voice.
“I am sorry,” she stammers out, her words rushed. She recedes in her battle stance and stands upright before him. “I know I am not supposed to be here unless...” She continues searching for help that she knows will not come.
Cimmerian raises his arm and waves his hand at her. “Enough. I am not here to turn you in,” he says, ceasing his wave, and returns his hand to its tucked position behind his back. “I am here to speak with you about another matter—one of actual importance to me.”
Her eyes desist their futile search and quiet, resting upon her Elder, confused and wondering what on earth, other than her breaking the rules again, he could possibly want to discuss with her. “Oh...of course,” she says, biting gently on the tip of her thumb but removes it, knowing it is a show of her weakness. “What is it?”
Washing a hand lightly over her small form, Cimmerian casts a wave of violet and black spindled light to spin rapidly around Gabrian, causing her to appear as nothing more than a ghost in the hall. He smiles down at her. The cruel and heartless man she has come to know is no longer there. She sees a glimpse of a younger soul that once walked this Realm, filled with warmth and kindness—a stranger to her. So much that it causes the hair on the back of her neck to rise. “It’s merely a cloaking spell to hide you from unwanted eyes,” he offers, stepping away from the darkened corner they stand in. “I need to discuss something with you, an offer, and I cannot very well do that if we are interrupted by pleasantries, now can I?”
She follows behind him, and nods her head in agreement, looking back over her shoulder reflexively. “No, I suppose not. Thank you,” she offers, still wary of his sudden and unnatural show of kindness toward her.
“Rumour has it that you have developed the gift of the Derkaz Fellowship,” he says, continuing his trek down the empty corridor, hands tucked neatly together behind his back again. “Is this correct?”
Gabrian hurries her stride to walk beside him and turns to him. “Yes, I don’t know how I...it just happened. When the Gargons came to take...” Her words catch in her throat, ceasing the continuation of her confession.
“Yes, quite a display, so I have heard.” Cimmerian turns his head to glance down at her, trying to care and show a convincing expression of concern for the youngling obviously terrified for her life. “You know, Gabrian, having the gift of Darkness is no easy burden to carry but as you have witnessed, it is at times its own miracle.”
She remains silent, listening and reliving the horror of that day—understanding the message he delivers to her as they walk the halls of the hospital, nearing its exit to the outside world.
“I am offering to help you,” Cimmerian says, halting his movements, and gazes down at her with kind, yet unsettling eyes to hide something she cannot seem to put a finger on. “With such a sudden and strong show of magic, a gift this potent would be best molded under an experienced hand, a teacher per se, such as myself.”
Gabrian’s face contorts involuntarily, a show of her confusion in his proposal to help. Tucking her bottom lip between her teeth, and willing her mouth to hold any inappropriate comments that may spew out and get her into trouble, Gabrian forces a smile at the Elder then lets the tension in her jaw release just enough to let out a simple acknowledgement. “I don’t know what...”
Holding his hand up, halting her words, Cimmerian presses a smile again. “You do not have to answer right now,” he offers, slipping closer to the door, causing it to slide open and let in the cool night air to mix with the stale smell of chemical infused oxygen within the hospital walls. “Consider it. When you are ready to discuss it, come find me. We shall converse again,” the Elder finishes, dipping his head to her once then slips out the door.
Shaking her head with the realization of the magnitude of his offer, Gabrian rushes through the door behind him and calls out to say thank you. The violet and black tendrils of magic that were woven loosely around her form let go of their duty, unmasking her attendance to any onlookers in the vicinity, and return to their master as he steps within a swirling veil of purple rain, disappearing into the night.
Unveiled, and out without her guardian in front of the very place she is not supposed to be anywhere near, Gabrian hurries to her car and slips inside. Wanting to go home, but not wanting to see the pity in Shane’s eyes that he has been wearing since everything happened, or feel the guilt of trapping him inside his precious moments of rest, Gabrian grips the steering wheel and stares out across the sky, watching as the cover of night recedes, and longs for a place to find a moment of comfort. She ponders going to the office, but she left the key at home and the thought of running into Ethan right now twists her stomach into knots. She can’t face him just yet, but she needs to talk to someone—someone who might understand, someone who always seems to understand without the pity party.
Looking down at her watch and seeing the time, the edge of her mouth curls up just for a moment. She slips her key into the ignition and brings her car’s engine to life, heading for the perfect place to hide out that just happens to serve coffee.
44
BITTERSWEET COMPANY
THE WARM ELIXIR SLIPS between her teeth and falls deeply into Gabrian’s throat. Her eyes close and her head tilts upward as the magic of her muse begins to unwind the
tension within her. Sitting on her usual perch alongside the large window that faces the ongoing foot traffic of Bar Harbor’s Main street, Gabrian rejoices, hiding away at the Coffee Hound.
Her mind ponders Cimmerian’s offer, replaying his odd show of concern for her over in her head. Now, she has a gift that pertains to his Fellowship, so it makes sense that he would want to keep a close eye on her—especially since her track record of staying out of trouble is less than desirable.
The serene bubble enclosed around her pops as a familiar voice addresses her and slides in close to her left. Usually this spot is reserved for a particular Shadow Walker, but today it awaits another. The man peeks at her from across his shoulder, his lips pressed and curved crookedly to one side. “So, what are we watching today?”
Her nose wrinkles at his question. “What?”
Matthias turns to stare outward into the street and points his fingers at the people stirring on the street just outside the window. “It is live entertainment at its best—the world’s biggest reality show on big-screen, right in front of us. I was just curious as to what was on.”
Gabrian shakes her head and bumps his arm playfully with her shoulder, pulling her cup to her smiling lips to take another sip of her latte. “Nothing too exciting, I can assure you.”
Without warning, a black flash of feathers lands on the ground in front of them and focuses in on Gabrian, tilting its head to the side. Turning to her counterpart, the ebony-coloured creature shrieks its disapproving calls at him, clearly irritated that he is there so close to his friend.
“Oh, great. If I would have known he was going to join us, I wouldn’t have agreed to come see you,” Matthias says, teasing her and giving her a wink, but she can hear a hint of seriousness in his voice, not to mention the outright displeasure reeling within his thoughts.