Calico (The Covenant of Shadows Book 2)

by Kade Cook

  “That’s not what this is...”

  “But it will be if I don’t end this now.”

  A tremor of fear rips through her soul hearing the words fall from her lips, regretting their sound but celebrating their meaning—hoping he will not hate her forever for giving him back his freedom. She lifts her hand to cup his jaw, feeling the sting of loneliness already setting in as his sea green turns in his irises with a haunting shade of blue, revealing the pain his soul must be drowning in—the same swell of pain that threatens to make her take it all back, knowing he would let her. But she will not, she cannot. Willing her feet to move, before she drops to the ground, Gabrian takes her first steps forward, away from the pain she knows is killing them both.

  “Gabrian, wait...” he whimpers, reaching out to grasp her hand as she steps away and disappears into the heavy sheet of rain, making her a ghost within the tears that pour down from the Gods as they mourn for him.

  It is all he can do not to scream, to call out her name through the unrelenting storm of pain just unleashed within, to tell her to stay...that he needs her to stay.

  But he won’t.

  He will remain her protector still, whether she likes it or not—even if it means he must love and protect her from the shadows, he will do so. But he will never be selfish. He will never put his heart first and ask her to stay if she does not want to, even if it kills him.

  46

  STRANGE EXCHANGE

  THE COLD STING OF THE rain slips away unnoticed as Gabrian follows her feet, wandering in no particular direction. Drowning with emotions and choking on the words she wishes she could take back, her mind is torn between knowing she has done the right thing and clinging to guilt of her selfish reasons for ending things. Letting him go is the only way she can free herself from the weight she carries of watching him throw his life away because of her. They both will be better for it, even though it feels like hell now. Shane will be better for it. He just doesn’t know it yet.

  The dusk to dawn streetlamp shines like a halo around her as she steps in front of the college campus. Wiping the dampness away from her eyes, partly due to the rain and mostly due to the pain seeping out from within, Gabrian looks up from her feet and the large wooden doors of the Turret building beckons to her. The image of Cimmerian’s sickly-sweet smile enters her head and his melted voice offering to help her whispers through her ears.

  Not realizing she had wandered so far away from her car trying to out walk the pain, she decides that she may as well get it over with. She is here now and having to see his face will not ruin her mood any worse than it already is.

  Her feet touch the walkway that leads to the doors—each step heavy, knowing she is allowing someone else to be in charge of her life once more. Reaching the top of the steps, she pushes on the large doors, hearing them groan in protest to her entry, but they give way just the same, making her dread who she is here to see a little more prominent. Normally, these doors open easy and hold the promise of comradery but today is not the case. Instead, she is on a different mission. Not knowing exactly where she is going, she heads straight to the directory on the far wall, in search for a name.

  Her eyes scroll down the list of present professors, seeing a few names she has heard whispered within the Realm but not the one she seeks. Retracing her search from the top, she finally sees it.

  Professor Cole – Dark Arts Room 313 Lower Level – Section D

  Making a quick stop at the college lavatory she is already acquainted with, Gabrian tries her best to wipe away the rest of the wetness from her rain soaked hair so she, at least, is not dripping everywhere when she finds her new instructor. Checking quickly in the mirror, she calls it good enough and exits, heading for the stairs.

  She slowly descends, hearing her steps echo loudly against the bare walls to announce her presence to all within earshot. Her mind drifts helplessly back to the image of Shane’s pain-filled eyes and his quivering lower lip, trying to remain unshaken as her sharp words sliced at his heart. She feels the water welling again as she sinks into the travesty her only real relationship has become.

  Rounding the corner at the bottom of the landing, a young man appears, almost from out of nowhere, taking her by surprise and making her gasp. Why had she not heard him on the stairs or at least sensed him—this kind of thing never happens anymore, making her leery.

  Their eyes meet. The yellowish hue that dances around his irises sparkles—matching the colour of his golden hair—but she is transfixed by something else, his pupils. They are wide and inviting, much like the half grin warming his face as he passes by. This strange exchange between them dances to the foreground of her attention for what seems like minutes maybe even hours to Gabrian, caught in a silent rapture of peacefulness, until his eyes blink. The boy’s pupils flex, stretching wide across his irises into a straight line, much like that of a cat’s but inverted diagonally—shocking her—breaking the trance.

  She looks away, just for a moment, but it is too long. Her eyes now strain as she stares into the emptiness that remains. She halts her descent and chases the memory of the young man up the stairs, but he is gone—nothing left but the sound of her breath and the echo of her movements in the empty stairwell—leaving her alone again on her trek to seek out Cimmerian.

  “Huh,” she breathes out, perplexed, and purses her lips, restarting her course.

  With her mind preoccupied on the young man, she forgets to watch for the signage on the walls—her thoughts replaying the mirage in more detail as she wanders through the corridors of the lower levels, lost in her daydream. A voice cuts through the images in her head, disrupting her silent journey. “Miss Shadwell, are you lost?” it says, halting Gabrian in her steps. “Can I help you find something?”

  She refocuses her eyes and looks around at her surroundings, completely overshooting her voyage through the halls. Growling inwardly at herself, she back steps toward the voice and pokes her head inside the open door, biting on the inside of her lower lip, then replies to his question. “Um, no...I,” she clears the rough itchy catch in her throat and continues, “I came to see you.”

  Setting his pen down and raising his eyes from the papers lying before him, Cimmerian allows her his attention and swallows down his discontent with her presence, even though it was he who had asked her to come find him when she was ready. He rues the day that he met her, wishing he could make her and all the entanglements within the web around her—namely Adrinn—go away. His mind slips to a dark place as he fantasises a world free of all this torment which she represents, if only there were some way to erase her from his life but still reap sympathy from the fiend within the mist in order to gain his aid—an accident maybe, leaving his hands clean.

  Cimmerian pulls himself back from his wicked ponderings and sighs. He forces himself to smile—an encouragement to allow his guidance with her new gift, giving the monster on his shoulder what he wants, perhaps taking him one step closer to Symone.

  “Well, I am glad to know that my efforts have not been wasted.” His words are dry and without emotion.

  Unsure whether she should be offended by this statement or whether his demeanor is just the cold, and abrupt person he is, Gabrian lifts the edges of her mouth, and shakes her head no in reply.

  “Splendid.” He nods his head and switches his brow. “Now, as you can see, I am at the moment otherwise engaged,” he says, waving his hand over the pile of papers on his desk. “We shall convene with this discussion tomorrow evening at dusk,” he informs, staring at her over the top of his glasses sitting pretentiously on the bridge of his nose, no longer entertaining her with fake charm. His cold black eyes hold onto hers, unblinking. “Is this acceptable?” Cimmerian utters flat and monotone. “Or shall I reorganize everything in order to accommodate your needs?”

  Gabrian can’t help but feel the dislike for her within his words—somewhat confused by his sway of attitude toward her. She wishes she could choose a different teacher but knows this must b
e his way of helping out as an Elder. She bites her tongue, stopping herself from snapping at him and telling him exactly where he can stick his offer, then digs deep down and finds the professional within, swallowing the statement she wishes to say, and retorts with a proper reply, “No, dusk is fine, thank you, Professor.”

  “Very well then,” he says, turning his eyes back to his paperwork once again, ignoring her presence.

  Gabrian stands in the doorframe, wondering if she should leave, his silence deafening her with his unspoken and immediate dismissal. She raises her eyebrows and tucks her lips in between her teeth, spinning on her heels, and turns her back to him, taking a step forward, and heads to the point of exit. She exhales and lets all her dislike for this man leave her body and hopes his teaching skills are much more appealing than his obvious lack of social skills. If not, she is in for one hell of a roller coaster ride.

  47

  ABOMINATION FACTOR

  REACHING THE EXIT OF the college, Gabrian pushes open the door and breathes in the salty air dampened with night’s cool mist. She shakes her head, wondering what she has just gotten herself into. Letting the heavy doors swing shut behind her, she steps out into the night and starts the trek back to her car, hoping she can climb in behind the wheel and drive home without any uncomfortable interactions with anyone.

  Gabrian turns her head around, feeling a presence behind her. For a moment, out of the corner of her eye, she catches a silhouette of a female’s shadow with a hint of purple outlining a petite frame, but it slinks out of sight. “Huh, that is weird,” she says, speeding up the march toward her car. Once again, she feels a presence, so she turns quickly, but not quite quick enough. Only a glimpse of the purple haze is caught. Gabrian determines she is too tired for this nonsense. If she appears again, she will be more clever.

  Once again, she feels a presence. Annoyed by this cat and mouse game going on, she flares out her grey aura—speckled with violet and iridescent sparks—seeking out the tormentor playing with her. But it is different this time, she can tell. The purple aura before is not of which she has found—and there is not just one, but many.

  Her heart jumps through her chest as a throaty caw catches her by surprise as the whooshing of wings lifts loosened strands of her hair with the wind of its close proximity. His calls are loud and somewhat frantic, setting Gabrian into an already uneasy state. “What are you doing here?” she asks the ebony bird as he continues to cause a commotion in front of her then settles on a garbage bin nearby. “You should be fast asleep by now. What has got you out and all worked up, Theo?”

  Her eyes glance around, studying her surroundings, and feels the energies getting closer, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand. The tips of her fingers begin to tingle, warming her hands in the coolness of the damp night air. She is being ridiculous. It’s Bar Harbor. People are out and about, living—it is what normal people do. She convinces herself she is just imagining things after the day she has had but the dark messenger will not settle his frantic call. It reminds her of dreams—the ones where she is surrounded by ravens and they keep calling out their warning that something is coming. His black silken head peers around in sporadic movements, straining to see the things hiding in the edges of night, then takes to higher ground, flapping dark wings and moving in the direction of her destination, closer to her vehicle.

  Maybe there is something more to this than she can understand, and unable to calm the bird, she answers its unrelenting squawking. “All right, Theo, I am going. Settle down,” she whispers to him, her steps quickening to appease her black-feathered friend. “See? Everything is fine. Now get yourself to bed,” she tells the bird, wishing she was already home in hers, wanting the day to be over.

  Satisfied that Gabrian is hurrying, the bird gives one more scolding and decides to do as he is told.

  But there are silent whispers in the darkness—she can hear them on the wind.

  That thing, one hisses.

  It must be dealt with, says another.

  Her fingers burn warmer hearing the eerie messages. They cannot be about her, can they? She wonders, especially with Theo’s sudden display of madness and the disturbing ghosts in the mist that taunted her tonight.

  Her pace quickens.

  “Who is there?” she calls out, her voice loud, but wavers at the end of the inquiry. She should not be afraid, but her heart and senses tell her differently. They shout at her, much like her feathery caller, that she should be very afraid.

  There is no vocal reply—only the whispers again. He says to do it quickly...the Boragen abomination must not be allowed to live.

  Gabrian’s pulse explodes, this is definitely about her. She thinks about stopping, turning around to face whatever is hunting her, but falters in the act of bravery and instead tucks herself in between the walls of the alley to her right, gifting her with a quick hiding spot for the moment. Her car is too far away for her to get to, even with her speed it would be a miracle to get there in time. She stills her breath and tries to will her body to quiet the loud thumping in her chest and her ears. Preparing to send another energy wave out into the night to locate the position of these things wanting to destroy her, she is distracted by a flash of silver. She jumps backward into the darkness behind her, avoiding the strike but slips, landing on her hands and knees—her footing compromised by a discarded piece of plastic waste someone tossed into the emptiness between the two buildings.

  Pushing off the ground and placing some distance between her and the shadowy attackers, Gabrian bounds backward again, this time finding a solid foothold on the ground. She strains to see auras but only finds the antique white of a human. “What do you want from me?” she yells out, panicked, and hopes her voice will carry enough to attract some attention from someone—help.

  It does.

  But it’s the wrong kind. The bodies closing in on her are not coming to her aid, but to the attackers—filling the small space between her and the point of exit. Their eyes are hidden by the absence of light, but she can feel the coldness in their eyeless stares—moving forward, crowding her backward—making her unsure of what to do next.

  Her eyes sting as the stress of her situation mounts, her vision flickers, and she blinks hard against the strange tingling now lingering under her lids. Images in the darkness uncloak, and Gabrian now can make out the outlined details of everything—night vision, a gift from the Derkaz Fellowship, she guesses. Well, that is handy, she jests in a panicked conversation with herself. Now all I need is a way to slow them down so I can find a way to get out of this mess.

  With a quick exhale of her breath, a white vapor of air drifts from her lips and a strange grin slips across her face. She lets her focus relax and drift, the light blue hue that colours her eyes moves and shifts within the tender sheath of her irises as Gabrian envisions crystalline swirls of light expelling from the center of her palms. Her mind paints the picture as the glow grows across the unpleasant littered gravel then climbs up the narrow sides of the alley, lacing the walls in a web of beautiful but deadly shards of ice.

  The blackened space in front of her bursts into a flare of royal blue. Talons made of fire claw out from her hands and veins across the dampened ground before her, consuming—claiming it within the blue inferno. The Magik splits and expels outward, climbing meticulously up along the outer walls. It twists and bounces—jumping from side to side in an elegant dance of precision but cruel and definitive in its mission to obstruct the narrow pathway—eager to skewer and mar with razor sharp strands of Isa magic through whatever dares enter into its pristine yet lethal maze.

  The shrill cries of her attackers sing out and dance in her ears as they try to follow her. She smiles in triumph, admiring her artwork for a moment, then turns to take her leave only to be halted. Her outerwear, it seems, has not gone unscathed. A layer of intricate weaved ice encompasses all within its path, even Gabrian’s footwear.

  “Well, crap!” she grumbles, looking at the frozen mess.
Hearing the cracking of ice and the cursing of victims trying to bully their way through the magical web getting louder, Gabrian slips her boots off quickly, not wasting any time. Not able to get past the wall of struggling bodies in front of her, she turns to study the darkness behind. At the far end, she sees a small rectangle that resembles an entry to some degree or at least she hopes. She bursts into a run and reaches for the door, pulling at the knob.

  Mother of Pearl, she growls. Locked, but she bears down on the knob and pulls hard. It creaks in her strain but gives way, popping open under the stress of her demand.

  Her arm is burning. Gabrian glances down at it to find a long tear in her coat, the edge turning dark, and the scent of copper hits her nose as a fisted hand closes in to make another slice. Throwing her body back and spinning left, Gabrian kicks her left leg out as hard as she can, sweeping the feet out from beneath the attacker. She ducks down and grabs onto the hand holding the knife. Sending an iridescent blue sliver of light flare across his skin, freezing his entire arm to his shoulder, Gabrian kicks out at the man’s hand. The knife, still tightly bound within frozen fingers, clangs toward the collection of men dragging themselves through barricades of icy webs, now laced in crimson.

  The handless man sits up, cradling his stump. From within his hold, tiny nubs begin to form—a regenerative display, informing her they are more than human or at least he is.

  Boragen. “Why are you hunting me?”

  He growls, raising his piercing eyes upward, he glares at her with a sinister grin, eyes showing her something dark, something not right within them.

  Hearing his one-track mind still on the hunt to destroy her, Gabrian knows she is wasting time trying to figure out any logic to explain his intense desire to end her. Backing away, Gabrian slinks into the small opened door, searching for another exit.