Calico (The Covenant of Shadows Book 2)

by Kade Cook

Pulling the door closed, Gabrian places her hands on each side of it—the blue haze of light escaping around the edges of her hands while she works around the fringes and seals the exit, freezing it shut with her magic in the hope it will slow them down long enough for her to find another way out. Her mind races as she rushes through the building, scrambling to make it through piles of debris within. All the windows are blocked and boarded up. Gabrian runs to the next room, through a narrow corridor. There is a door on her left, and she reaches for the knob, trying to turn it, but it will not budge. Locked or seized up, she is not sure. She only knows unless she gets through she is not getting out. Taking a couple of steps back, she rushes forward and slams her shoulder into the brunt of the door. With a loud crack, the barrier gives but not completely—she’ll have to make another attempt. This time she makes it, her body slicing through the broken wooden door, and tumbles nearly halfway down a case of stairs, then manages to stop long enough to gather her bearings.

  Straightening her body around, and bracing herself against the sloping wall, she glances around at where she is—a basement. This is not good but with nowhere else to go, her feet pound loudly on the stairs as she rushes to find the end, only to be greeted by a maze of hallways—three of them to choose from.

  “Really? Great! Just great.”

  Dim light catches her attention to the right in the distance. It’s not bright like a lamp, more like the hazy glow of a window. Whatever it is, Gabrian takes it as a sign to go in that direction. She has limited options, and hearing the muffled pounding at the iced door above, she knows it won’t hold them for long, and chooses to go to the light.

  Slipping her body down through the narrow hallway, a passage between the walls, her mind cannot help but pick up on their hatred—confused as to why they are hell-bent on pursuing her—causing her to wonder if Adrinn is truly back and has something to do with this. It is like they are all under some kind of spell like she had been, all whispering the same instructions without any thought processes of their own. Compulsion, she thinks. It has to be it but why is he trying to kill her? Had he not taken what he wanted last time? If not, she is of no use to him now. She cannot give him what he seeks even if she wanted to. Gabrian is broken—because of him.

  Her body slips past exposed walls that hold nothing more than bare framing, lined with gas and electrical lines that have seen their better days. She ends up in a boiler room empty and barren, obviously being refurbished. Glancing around quickly, she notices the source that had drawn her here—a window at the end of the room which allowed the dusk-till-dawn street lamps to be the beacon in the midst of the darkness.

  It’s a way out.

  A loud crashing sound thunders through the barren building announcing to her that the barrier had been breached, and she is running out of time. Rushing toward the window, her heart falls. The window is indeed big enough to push through easily, but she would have to find a way to pull free the metal security bars wrapped around in a sturdy frame, welded into the wall.

  “Bugger! Figures. I have been here for nearly a year and have never seen metal bars on one business, leave it to me to pick the only one that would have it.”

  With their footsteps pounding on the floor above her, Gabrian pushes against the open door of the room, hoping to close it without creating too much noise. For now, it is all she has. She needs a plan. Taking a deep breath and concentrating inward, she pulls in all of her essence, even the fragments of human disguise she sometimes displays. She needs to disappear, slip off the radar, until she can figure out how to get through that window.

  Gabrian slips her tiny frame in behind the boiler, a makeshift temporary shroud for her physical form, and lowers herself silently to the floor. Quieting her mind, she rummages through the vibrations around her, finding their thoughts, and listens as they grow frustrated in their search for her.

  “He said to do it quick. This is taking too long—too much time has been wasted already.”

  “What if someone comes looking for her?”

  “Then let’s end this game now before anyone does.”

  Their footsteps become less frantic. They are hunting as a pack now—no longer rushing but seeking her out. Her senses feel them—all of them from the Realm, Boragen decent. Her mind dives deeper carefully into theirs. Gabrian catches a hint of essence, not quite what she expects—a shadowy image dances through their eyes, one casting out an aura not exact of a Borrower, no not quite. It has a hazy grey tell but it holds something more, a kiss of indigo, of water—hinting the hue of Hydor.

  Gabrian gasps. She tries to cover her escaped sound beneath her hand, but it is too late—her hiding spot is compromised. She can hear them moving in toward her, closing in for the kill.

  One of them snickers as their direction changes, heading for the broken door upstairs. “Come out, little freak, we just need to talk to you.”

  Not once does Gabrian recall knives and being stabbed ever being part of any civil conversation she has had. She glances around for something she can use as a weapon but there is nothing—nothing that will help her defend herself against them.

  You already hold what you seek, all the protection you need to protect yourself—everything—it is within your very hands, a soft voice whispers inside her head. She stretches her fingers, holding them out in front of her face. You just need to believe in order to see it.

  Gabrian nods.

  A near invisible blue hue births at the center of her hands, and her eyes rush to the window then back to the door at the edge of the room. It is not much of a barricade, but it will have to do—it will have to be enough. Slipping toward the door, she and places her hands on the edges, hovering over the cracks in the frame like she had upstairs. Glancing over her shoulder once more at her only chance of escape, Gabrian closes her eyes and concentrates, trying to find her icy muse, but it wavers as the pounding of footsteps descending into the basement causing her fingers to heat, juggling her concentration and clouding her mind.

  “Where is she? I can’t feel her anymore.”

  “She is gone.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “How could she have gotten out? We closed off all the exits.”

  Hearing the confession—a deliberate staging for her attack—sends Gabrian’s state of fear into overdrive. The thrumming in her heart out-drums the sound of their footsteps as they approach. Come on magic...work! She grits her teeth as the ice in her eyes comes to life. Images burst through her mind’s eye in a cold sting and she wills the depth of the magic to move outward through her fingers. The blue iridescent show of Isa appears and flares against the edges of the door. The wildness of her fear fuels the icy magical fire as it burns through her and into the crevices between the wooden frame, clawing ferociously beyond its mark and encasing everything within its wake, stretching the jagged veins of ice down the wall toward the oncoming intruders.

  “Oh, she is not gone,” the tall black-haired hunter declares, sneering at his counterparts, and wiggles his stubby new fingers at the lacy covering of frozen but lethal webs inching their way toward them. “She is very much present, indeed.” He trails his nubby hand across the menacing curve his mouth has shifted into. “Time to end the hunt, boys, and say goodnight to this abomination.”

  The large mangled fiend marches forward, toward the thickest of the ice mass as the others stand back, still marveling at the webs of ice. An odd fascination with them draws one of them in. He reaches out to touch the sculptured strand of ice webbed across a frozen gas pipe and it instantly claims his fingers, making him a prisoner to the traitorous surface. “Son of a...” he curses, pulling at his hand. And with a fierce backward glance from the leader, he mans-up and smashes at the ice display with his other hand, freeing his captured digits and forwarding his approach, leaving behind a fractured pipe—unleashing a measure of death’s muted breath.

  With the frozen barrier in place, Gabrian hurries to the window, sliding the pane open, and pulls hard. The concrete bas
e groans and inches with her effort but does not yield to its conviction. She grumbles out loud and tries again. Hearing thrashing beyond the door, she tries a different approach. Closing her eyes, she searches for the cold sting of her magic and grips the bars tightly within her palms. The blue hue swallows up the dim light coming from outside—her freedom—and crawls along the bars, covering them with a thick coating of ice that sparkles like diamonds against the light that snaps and crackles under her touch. Gritting her teeth and bracing one foot against the wall, Gabrian twists at the frozen bars—bearing her weight down the wall—and summons all of her Boragan strength in her attempt. The barrier groans and cracks as she pulls at it. In a loud snap, she staggers backward and lands onto the floor, two metal bars within her grasp.

  “Yes!” she exhales with a breathy yell and studies the window to see almost enough room to squeeze herself through the remainder of the bars but not quite. She rushes to the window to free up the rest of the space.

  “What was that?” one fiend yells.

  “That is our prize trying to escape. If we fail, it will be our undoing. There will be no forgiveness if the abomination survives, I can assure you that.”

  “Then stop playing around. Time is up.”

  Gabrian hears the groans in the door behind her as it readies to fall from the battering of Boragan assaults. If she had only broken one more bar, but time has run out for her, and she must stop them the only way she knows how. Her guilt makes her hesitate, but the voice is back, it returns to whisper in her ear once more. It is the only way.

  She knows the voice is right. She will die if she does not. Closing her eyes, and opening her mouth, she inhales. The sweet succulent taste of white life essence seeps through the widening cracks from behind the door and touches down on her tongue. Her eyes open, blazing with a different and dangerous light swirling within them. This way it will be easy for her to stop them. The rapture of drawing in their life invigorates her, but the sickeningly sweet taste catches on her conscience, the weight of her sins pulling her back, drowning her within the stolen life essence, and halts her efforts.

  Her memory dances on another option.

  She will not steal their life as they intend to do to her, but she will indeed slow them down. With the decision clear in her mind, she widens her hands, and closes her eyes once more. Snake-like fragments of pure energy slithers though the fault lines of the building from outside—cascading freely, dancing on air, past the dangers that surround her. Feeling the warm buzz of energy gathering between her hands, she increases her draw. The outside lights surrounding the building dances and flickers on the strain of her demand. The ball of energy sparks and sizzles as it swirls counter clockwise in her hands, growing hot—her hair nearly standing on end in presence of pure power.

  She steals one more glance at the broken bars. It is almost big enough to slip through.

  She just needs to distract them long enough to break that last bar and get away.

  Do it, the voice whispers to her so sweetly that she no longer questions its intentions, and with little choice, she listens.

  They are Borrowers, they will heal.

  The room glows in the wake of the growing sphere of pure energy as the orb nears a dangerous level of capacity, even for her it is a struggle to contain it, and its magical magnitude shows on the other side of the door, confusing the intruders. “What the...?”

  “Doesn’t matter, bust that door in. Kill the abomination now!”

  With the heat rising on the opposite side of the door, one last kick against its frozen side finally causes the barrier to falter and give way.

  The room lights up, every corner removed of shadow. All that is and was contained within the walls are now ablaze—present company included.

  48

  BEAUTIFUL CHAOS

  ALL THAT GABRIAN HEARS is the yell of thunder as the whole world explodes around her. Everything brightens as her body is thrust against the wall, crushing the wind out of her lungs and crumpling her into a mess upon the floor meshed with the piles of burning rubble as darkness consumes her.

  WITH BLINKING EYES, she wakes from the darkness, studying the world smoldering around her. Shades of darkness dance within auburn bursts of flames encircling her. Wiping her eyes to clear the debris that scrapes at her lids every time she blinks, Gabrian pushes herself out from beneath the floor boards and wills her body to stand.

  She tries to find her bearings, searching through the haze for the window and the metal bindings that hold her captive. Gabrian follows the rolling smoke and locates it—no longer an issue. The blast widened the opening, disintegrating it. Pulling herself up, she hurries to the window, recalling the reason for her present situation, and clamors for the exit. Not able to hear anything but a high-pitched ringing in her ears, she is unsure if she is still being pursued—she just wants out. Closing her hands around what is left of the now crumbled window, she pulls her tattered body into the world outside. Gathering her strength onto her knees, she tries to steady herself—still in a daze, she feels the ground shifting around her.

  Taking in a deep breath, she coughs as she tries to clear some of the damage in her smoke-filled lungs, and looks back over her shoulder at the fiery prison that held her captive only moments ago, and seemingly, the only one to escape its walls. She turns to leave, seeing the flickering lights of the silent sirens inching their way toward her from the blackness in the distance.

  Help is on its way.

  She exhales a sigh of relief just as a loud thunderclap steals the remainder of her hearing, lighting up the night sky with one more display of lights that sends a burst of heat and sharp pain to slice into her back as it does, throwing her to her knees.

  An orange hue surrounds her skin as Gabrian’s hands rush to the source of pain, and her fingers wrap lightly around the piece of the metal bar she had so desperately tried to escape from. It is now gingerly lodged within her innards, protruding from her stomach. Her mind screams at her to pull it out, but her body doesn’t obey.

  She pushes herself back up on her feet, still glowing in orange. But with each step she takes forward, toward the flashing lights, she staggers, feeling the last strands of her strength waver. Hollow voices make their way in through the ringing in her ears as silhouettes of ghosts edge closer to her—running in slow motion.

  The world flickers. Another blast of heat encases her in silence, throwing a large piece of debris on top of her engulfed in flame. Her knees buckle under the heavy unexpected impact, finally betraying her determination to reach safety, demanding that she crumble and bow to the ground. Tiny orbs of light in her eyes dance amongst the crimson embers that pepper the world around her.

  Lying still within the silence, swallowed up in flame and drowning within this beautiful state of chaos, Gabrian slips into the darkness once more.

  49

  FROM THE MIDST OF ASHES

  FROM THE MIDST OF THE human barrier being constructed by the locals, a large body draped in fireman’s gear rushes toward the fire, axe in hand as he inspects the damage, determining the best course into the burning building.

  As he nears, raising his ax, readying it to strike out the small pile of rubble still aflame, he halts his assault, seeing a glimpse of something that does not quite fit. Wedging the edge of his ax beneath the flame, he jerks back at the wood, giving it a swift flick, and pushes it away. The sight of the small charred body cloaked in the midst of the ashes, still ablaze, changes his course of action.

  His voice bellows out an immediate command that parts the nearing crowd as they all turn to see the commotion behind them. He stoops low, dropping the ax, and repeats his words, “I need a medic!” His eyes narrow at what he observes. Quickly removing his jacket, he covers the girl, dowsing the flame still dancing across her flesh, then lowers himself to check the severity of her injuries. Gently shifting her and rolling her to the side, he clears away matted ebony locks from the girl’s face and sucks in a deep breath, recognizing who he h
as just unearthed from beneath the destruction—her aura flickering faintly above the soot-smeared skin.

  She has been in his presence before at the place where he, Arramus, holds the honour of Elder to the Egni Fellowship—the Fellowship of Fire—the gift that allows him the ability to do his job so effectively and save the lives of many that may otherwise have perished within the grips of the death-filled infernos.

  A medic slices through the crowd, tucking a stretcher under one arm, a first aid kit beneath the other, and heads toward the Marshall. Arramus flings off his gloves and presses his index finger to her flesh below her discoloured jawline and pauses, looking for a pulse. It’s there, pounding wildly beneath her skin—her body is in shock, having tasted the devastation of fire. Slipping his hands between her slender form and the Earth, Arramus scoops Gabrian up into his arms, cradling her against his chest, broad structure swallowing her up, as he turns to meet the medic on his way.

  His eyes flare at the medic with a subtle nod of his head, an understanding of silent commands they have shared before, and the Medic drops his equipment to relieve Arramus of his parcel—securing her in his hold. A hand grips the edge of the medic’s coat as he turns to go, engaging him to look back.

  “Cash,” Arramus whispers.

  “I’ve got her, Arramus.” Cash looks deep into his Elder’s eyes, ensuring him of his words. “Go back to the fire, I promise she will be tended to.”

  50

  RECOVERY

  “SO, HOW IS SHE?” ARRAMUS slowly closes the door behind him and turns to address her caretaker. “She was a bit of a mess when I left her with Cash.”

  Kaleb scratches the back of his head and leans against the frame of glass that separates them from Gabrian. “Truthfully?”

  “Truthfully.”

  “Well, in all seriousness, I think she is ready to go home.”