Relics and Runes Anthology

by Heather Marie Adkins

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  Shadows Wake

  Aiki Flinthart

  Shadows Wake by Aiki Flinthart

  Published by Computing Advantages & Training P/L

  Copyright © 2018 Aiki Flinthart

  Cover artwork by Harper by Design

  All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

  A Cataloguing-in-Publications entry for this title is available from the National Library of Australia.

  Print copies available from major online retailers.

  ISBN-13: 978-0-6482878-0-3 (Trade Paperback)

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9945660-9-6 (e-book)

  Created with Vellum

  Note

  This book is written with AUSTRALIAN SPELLINGS, not USA spellings.

  Don’t panic.

  Shadows Wake

  Trust is a luxury and the last person Rowan can rely on is herself

  Rowan Gilmore and her mother, Anna, have spent most of Rowan’s life running, hiding her speed, strength and precognitive powers—but without knowing why she’s different, why they have to hide, or who from.

  And Rowan’s sick of running scared. But she has to continue, because she also harbours a dark power that emerges only when she’s afraid or in danger.

  A power that kills indiscriminately.

  When she moves to Australia, a street fight reveals her abilities to a stranger and she must decide whether to run again or stay and risk discovery by her pursuers. Her mother has found happiness with a new partner and Rowan is reluctant to wreck it. But, after foiling another kidnap attempt, Rowan has had enough. The time has come to stand her ground.

  And new allies arrive with promises to help fight her unknown enemy – and to reveal the truth behind her extraordinary abilities.

  But what’s their agenda? Can they be trusted? And who are the people chasing Rowan? What do they want? What is the ocair thing they keep asking about?

  And what happens if the darkness, buried in her mind, wakes and comes out to play?

  1

  If they find you, run. Surviving is more important than proving yourself. So, promise me, Rowan? Just run.

  My father’s last words whispered in my head and I backed up the aisle between the pews, edging away from the two men and their reassuring smiles.

  Just run? Easy for Dad to say. He wasn’t here. Sometimes running wasn’t possible. And sometimes it wasn’t right. If I ran, sure, I’d survive. I was small for my age, but fast. Sarah was plump, soft, and slow. I had to protect her. She’d brought me here, but she wasn’t part of this.

  Why had I gone along with her suggestion to come into the cathedral? Why had I been stupid enough to leave the safety of my class tour group behind? Now we were both in danger. Thoughtless. Careless. Everything my mother had trained me not to be. How did I get us out of this?

  ‘Carly?’ Sarah’s voice was tight, her face pale.

  ‘We’ll be ok, Sarah,’ I whispered. ‘Just follow my lead.’ If only I believed my own words.

  I pulled at her arm, dragging her towards a doorway about twenty steps behind. My boot heels tapped on the diamond-tiled floor. Around us the cathedral waited, dark and almost silent. Huge, white pillars and arches marched down either side of the central aisle. Sunshine poured through the rose window high in the west wall. A patch of the floor glowed in a blurred rainbow of colours. Dust danced in the beams; tiny angels floating in God’s brilliance. My quick breaths disturbed them, set them swirling in the light. If only I believed in Him, maybe praying would help. Doubtful.

  The two men moved towards us, their solid bodies and hands relaxed. Their faces were calm, eyes hidden by caps and sunglasses. They were dressed as tourists, complete with water bottles and backpacks. But their broad shoulders and sure strides seemed too arrogant. Whatever they wanted, it wasn’t selfies with the stained glass window.

  Fear and anger churned in my stomach. I swallowed them.

  My mother, Anna, always said fear was just my imagination telling stories about how things might go. I couldn’t listen. And anger screwed up my thinking and made me do horrible things. I couldn’t afford that, either. She also said, only when you’re tested do you know who you truly are. Anna thought I was a better person than I am. She also thought I was ready.

  Then again, she wasn’t here, either.

  My mind wouldn’t settle on a plan. It jumped about, playing with the fear-stories. I couldn’t concentrate with my heart pounding so loud, my mouth dry.

  ‘What do you want?’ The quaver in my voice betrayed fear and I ground my teeth. Sarah whimpered.

  ‘We represent an interested party who wishes to speak to you, Carly.’ One of the men held out an empty, upturned palm. His tone was friendly. His mouth shifted into a wide smile. ‘Come with us. You won’t be harmed.’

  ‘Riiight,’ I said. ‘I’ve seen enough movies to know that no-one ever means that.’

  Who were these men? How did they know where to find me?

  ‘You’ve got a smart mouth for a kid,’ one of them replied coolly.

  ‘Is there an age limit for having a smart mouth?’ I shot back. ‘I’d’ve thought thirteen would put me in the right bracket, actually. Teenager and all.’

  The taller of the two men actually stifled a laugh.

  Sarah gasped and tugged free of my hand.

  I shuffled a few more steps backwards. Could I buy enough time for someone else to come into the cathedral and prevent this…whatever this was from happening?

  ‘Go, Sarah,’ I muttered. ‘Run. I’ll keep them busy.’

  Her eyes widened and she bit her lip. The sound of our classmates’ chatter faded and a door slammed. Thick wood blocked out the hum of traffic circling outside. Our school group had moved on. Sarah edged in the direction they’d taken.

  ‘Who do you work for?’ I glared at the men. ‘What do they want?’ I searched for other exits as my mouth bought time to reach them.

  ‘Just to talk about...you.’ Came the calm reply. ‘And the ocair. You tell us where the ocair is and everything will be fine.’

  ‘Ocair? What’s th—’ I shut my mouth. No point in even talking to these thugs. They probably didn’t know either. It didn’t matter, anyway. They stank of deceit.

  ‘Run, Sarah,’ I urged. ‘I’ve got this.’

  ‘Yes, Sarah.’ The second man switched his gaze to her. ‘You can go. You’ve done well. Speak to no-one or you know what will happen.’

  I gasped. Sarah’s brown eyes, usually narrowed and glittering with mischief, were wide and haunted. She swallowed hard.

  ‘I’m sorry, Carly,’ she whispered, moving further from me. ‘I’m sorry. They said they’d take my sister if I didn’t bring you.’

  I had no words. They lodged in my throat behind the sick lump of betrayal. How could she? I gulped down tears and steeled myself. It was my own fault for trusting her. I should have known. Why else would she suddenly start being friends with me today?

  With one more terrified look at my face, Sarah fled. Her sneakers made barely a sound on the hard tiles but her sobs echoed, almost like laughter.

  I looked back at the men and squared my shoulders. I had this. Eight years of training ha
d prepared me for this. They wouldn’t expect a kid to fight. Staying calm was the key. I shuffled back, lifting my feet so my heels wouldn’t catch. Behind, my fingers touched cool stone: the doorway arch.

  I turned and ran into the half-lit space beneath the spire; on tiptoes to stop the echo. An open door cast a deep shadow. I slipped behind. Blood roared in my ears. My throat closed on a cry. Calling out was useless. The cathedral was empty. Besides, this was my problem. A witness would just make it harder to do what was needed.

  Shadows shifted and slid across the walls, into my mind. My head throbbed. I leaned against the cold stone and stared into the darkness within.

  Not again. Not now. Suddenly fighting seemed like a terrible option, but there was nowhere left to run.

  Feet scuffed on stone. Red-hot blackness pressed against my thoughts. I bit my lip to prevent a cry; dug nails into my palms to distract from the pain. Tears made the dark space shimmer.

  Strong fingers clamped onto my hand, grinding fine bones together. Images flickered and I knew his intent. But I froze, afraid to act, afraid of the result. Spikes of pain drove through my flesh and nerves. Into the prison holding blackness fast inside.

  Something broke in my head. Darkness billowed out.

  A gargling scream. The man dropped to his knees. He clutched his wrist, which dangled, broken. I lashed a kick at his head. He collapsed. A rustle of cloth gave warning. The second man grabbed for me. I ducked, turned, grabbed, twisted. Drove home an elbow then a knee. His blood warmed my skin.

  Sickened, I stared down at the two men. One lay unconscious. The other groaned, holding his face. Scarlet seeped between his fingers. The scent of blood hung heavy in the cold air. My hands shook and I gulped for air in the still, hushed gloom.

  The conscious man squinted up at me, sunglasses gone, eyes pained and astonished.

  Fearful. Of me.

  What should I do? Both men knew what I looked like.

  What did they want with me? What was this ocair thing?

  As I stood there, unsure, pain flowered in my head. An aching expectation gripped my chest and the metallic taste of ozone caught in my throat. The skin on the back of my head tightened. I rubbed it and looked around, searching for a new threat.

  Strong fingers grasped mine again. The ground trembled. Low and soft at first, it rose through my feet into my chest until my body shook in time with the bones of the Earth. From somewhere outside, a scream floated, faint through the thick, grey walls. Stone cracked.

  The man at my feet staggered upright.

  ‘You’re coming with me,’ he snarled, and pulled at me.

  The darkness surged forth again as the walls shuddered. Ozone and blood danced on the back of my tongue. My attacker fell back to his knees, eyes wide. His face twisted into agony and his eyes rolled up in his head. His skin crumpled to brittle paper. On my wrist, his fingers withered to brown, mummified sticks.

  I burned from within. He was mine. The world was mine.

  The room imploded.

  Darkness...dust...a scream of despair...dust...a roar of unending, thundering destruction...blackness...nothingness…

  I coughed through lips crusted in grit. My eyelashes were clogged as I opened them and saw...little dust-angels dancing in beams of sunlight. Sunlight? I’d been dreaming of forests, soft in silver-shadowed moonlight, keeping me safe from darkness and fire. Sunlight stabbed through the comforting scraps of my dream and blinded me. My head pounded.

  Through a haze, inside my head and out, I squinted up. Blue sky arched above where before were shadows and stone. Why?

  Voices called. Was it my name? Who was I supposed to be at the moment? Whoever called, they mustn’t find me. Run. I had to run, like my father said.

  I reached up to wipe my eyes but my fingers were bonedust-white. Brushing them on my shirt made no difference. With the inside of a collar, I rubbed most of the dust away. I struggled upright, leaning heavily on the gritty stone wall.

  I licked my lips and spat out dirt. Of my attackers, nothing remained but a pile of broken stone and timber where they had lain, some ten metres away. How had I ended up so far away?

  The church spire had collapsed. They couldn’t possibly have escaped. A twisted, stick-like arm protruded from the stones, unmoving, dusted ghost-white. What had I done? I closed my eyes and clung to the wall, weak and trembling. Only the distant wail of sirens and screams of survivors broke the shivering silence.

  Whoever wanted me, they had come too close this time. If it weren’t for the earthquake I’d be in their hands now. Or maybe not, if what I thought I’d done was true. I didn’t want it to be true. Either way, I’d been lucky to get out alive. I might not get a second chance.

  I staggered a few steps and stopped, trying to think. I needed to get out of the building, find my mother and protect her. Hopefully they hadn’t connected her to me yet and didn’t know she existed. If she was safe we could get out of Christchurch, out of New Zealand entirely; make a new start under a new name. Leave it all behind.

  Again.

  Crap.

  I yanked off the short blonde wig that made me Carly Edmonds and jammed it into my pocket. I wiped sweat from my forehead. My fingers came away red. Blood dripped into my eyes. Tears dripped from them. No. Crying wouldn’t help. I tore a strip from my shirt and bound the gash by touch.

  Voices screamed and called in a confused babble of wordless sound. I had to leave before anyone found me. Between me and safety lay a treacherous pile of broken timber and masonry. By the time I reached level ground again, my hands, knees and elbows all bled from deep grazes. I stumbled out the ruined square, mingling as one more frightened victim. The sun beat on my head and the stench of blood and pee rose from the ground, mingling with dust, catching in my throat as I picked my way through broken concrete and brick.

  Huddled in the middle of the open square, my school group clung to each other as the teachers counted heads over and over. Off to one side, Sarah sat on the ground, staring in blank horror at the collapsed church spire and damaged cathedral. Tears left pink tracks down her white-dusted cheeks.

  She looked around dully. Her eyes caught mine. She bit her bottom lip and glanced at our teacher. Sarah’s mouth opened. I shook my head. She nodded and mouthed ‘Go’. I slipped behind a car and hid myself from view.

  In the midst of frantic people running, sirens, and the wails of the injured and lost, a moment of stillness stood out. Across the square: a man wearing almost the same “tourist” clothing as my dead attackers. He watched me. His bony face was hard and calm, his dark eyes thoughtful. A mocking smile curved thin lips.

  They’d sent three.

  After a quick check around the square he lifted his arms. A coat hid his right hand, but the hollow end of a pistol or tube was just visible in the shadow.

  I froze. My legs refused to move and I trembled, awaiting death.

  Darkness stirred again, rattling its cage.

  Something plinked off the stone wall next to me. Liquid splashed onto my arm, bright sparkles glittering in the air like fireworks. A needle tinkled to the cobbles at my feet.

  Darts. Some sort of drug?

  He took aim again.

  A black-windowed Hummer drove up, bouncing over debris to stop in front of him.

  The ground rumbled. Dust shivered in the air and the screams took on new notes of terror as walls swayed and stone clattered off stone.

  The shaking eased. I forced my feet to move and used the moment to slip out of sight. Hiding behind a half-destroyed building, I peeked around the corner at the rubble-strewn square.

  He was gone.

  Why did they want me? And what was this ocair thing? If I could find that out, it might answer a lot of questions. If they wanted the ocair badly enough, I might be able to use it as a bargaining tool to keep my mother and me safe.

  Sick and sweating, I fled. Well-meaning emergency workers tried to stop me. I dodged them, uneasy as the world saw my real face, Rowan Gilmore’s face.<
br />
  I pushed down, into darkness, the memory of my attacker’s wasted body. He’d been dead before the building fell on him. His light had burned within me. I tasted the remnants of it, still; lightning on my tongue. Whatever lay inside me had taken over and I hadn’t been able to stop it.

  Never again. I would be so careful from now on. I had to keep it under control; had to stay out of sight of these people, whoever they were. People weren’t safe around me and I wasn’t safe around them.

  I wouldn’t trust anyone. No one would ever find out. Ever. Because if I lost control completely…

  I shuddered and ran on.

  ‘Rowan! Rowan? Where are you?!’

  I froze, then turned towards the voice. My mother stood at the edge of the cordon being erected by emergency workers. Her red hair danced in the breeze and she squinted against the sun.

  I stumbled to her side. ‘Anna!’

  ‘Oh, God!’ Her arms engulfed me and I was home. I sobbed into her shoulder as she stroked my back and held me tight against her softness.

  Finally, we parted and she studied my face, her blue eyes anxious. ‘Are you hurt? I was on my way to pick you up when the quake hit.’ She lifted the bloodied cloth on my forehead. ‘Not too bad. Anything else?’ Her hands roamed over me, seeking assurance, giving it.

  I shook my head and the words tumbled out: the men, the earthquake, the dartgun. She paled and glanced at the mad collapse of civilisation around us.

  ‘You’re sure you’re ok? And they were definitely after you?’ When I nodded, her jaw hardened and her eyes glittered as she swept the square with a piercing look. ‘Damn!’