Walking Through Shadows

by Sheri Lewis Wohl

  An hour or so into their second hike, they stopped at a sunny spot near the river to eat. Boulders made great seats, and even better, the stones were warm from the sun’s heat. Kind of like her nice heated seat in her car back home. Loba dropped to a patch of grass and stretched out. She appeared to be enjoying their adventure as much as Molly was.

  Slipping the pack off her shoulders, she dropped it to the ground, amazed at how light she felt now. It hadn’t seemed that heavy while they were walking. Only now when it was off her body did she realize how much effort it took to carry the pack. Sweat from the humid weather made her shirt stick to her back. After she shrugged to loosen the shirt from her body, she dug the folding water bowl out of her pack and filled it for Loba, who jumped up from her resting spot and quickly began to drink. When Loba was done, she returned to her grassy bed to sprawl out once more and close her eyes. Molly envied her ability to relax anywhere, anytime. More than once she wished she could do the same thing.

  “Ladies?” Angus held up a bottle of wine he had miraculously pulled out of his pack. “Libations for the weary?” His grin spread across his handsome face. Wasn’t hard to see why Winnie was so drawn to him. Molly’s spidey senses detected that he had a fine soul. Right now, looking at that bottle of wine, she could switch sides and keep that man forever.

  “Count me in.” She smiled. Now, this was her idea of relaxation. In fact, she could kick back on this comfy rock—well, as comfy as a rock got, anyway—and spend the rest of the afternoon imbibing as she watched the sun set. Loba might get bored after she woke up from her impromptu nap, but Molly was pretty sure she could make a day of it.

  “Oh yeah, baby,” Winnie said on a laugh. “Now, this is a man who knows how to lead a hike.”

  As she nodded and watched, Angus pulled a multi-tool from his pocket and uncorked the bottle. His acts of magic continued as he began to pour wine into collapsible silicone cups that, like the wine, appeared from his backpack. What other treasures did he have tucked away in there? A little brie? A loaf of crusty bread? She watched, but nothing else delectable came out of the pack. Darn.

  They sat in the sunshine sipping the fresh white wine, which was lovely. Who needed French bread and brie when they had a wine that danced on the tongue? No drugstore, cheapo purchase here. This was the good stuff. She looked up to see Angus studying her, his head tilted.

  “What?” She could almost see his mind whirling with some unasked question.

  “Tell me about about the Old Ways.”

  Well, that was a surprise, and for a second she remained silent. Molly rarely shared her heritage, and few people asked even if they knew of her background. Even fewer knew their language. Most people were familiar with the terms “witchcraft” and “Wicca.” Not many used the term “Old Ways.” She was a little impressed, though equally wary. For hundreds of years her family had been hunted and many destroyed for no other reason than because of what they were. Being a witch was rarely a matter of life and death these days, but still a social stigma lingered. Molly and others like her were very cautious when it came to sharing. She wrapped her normal life around her like a shield protecting her from a world that had too often failed her family. It was hard to let go of that shield.

  Out here in the beautiful daylight, listening to the sounds of the water rushing by, she felt an unfamiliar desire to talk about her family and her life. Though she would be hard-pressed to explain why, she trusted Angus. “What do you want to know?”

  He shrugged. “Anything? Everything? I grew up with stories of the paranormal and of the witches who could do both good and bad. The stories were meant to scare us into being good and to let us know about the presence of forces out there that could also protect us. The thing is, you’re the first real witch I’ve actually met. Or at least that I know I’ve met. You fascinate me, and I kind of like you a little bit too.”

  She smiled. Lots of people shared her world, many friends old and new, yet none of them besides a select few had any idea what she was. That sounded kind of ominous, but most people wouldn’t understand. Oh, they’d catch the references to Wicca if she were to reveal to them her heritage. She could almost picture the smiles and the nods they’d give her. They’d think she was just a little out there and searching for some alternate way to express herself. Eccentric. Harmless. They’d be wrong. Not that she was a threat to anyone. That wasn’t the way it worked.

  Her powers were real and developed to extraordinary levels through generations of her family. Not strong enough to prevent her bakery from catching on fire, however. Apparently, precognition wasn’t in her toolbox. Of course, her grandmother would point out that wasn’t where her strengths lay. Each of them had their own special touch, though hers hadn’t shown itself quite yet. It was frustrating because she was not-so-patiently waiting to discover her place in the universe. Right now, she was the only one in the family in flux. Or maybe, more likely, she was the only flunky in the family.

  “Here’s the deal,” she said, deciding she wanted to share her history with Angus. “I’m what you call a hereditary witch. Nothing unusual for my family, as it goes back in my lineage for centuries. All the women in my family have powers, hence the hereditary. We’re born with it.”

  “Wicked. So you can cast spells and vanquish bad guys?”

  Molly was just taking a sip of wine and almost spat it out as she began to laugh. “You make it sound so cloak-and-dagger. Nothing quite that mystical or magical. Yes, I can do healing spells. Not as good as the rest of my family, mind you, but I’ve been taught the basic skills. I can’t say I’ve ever been asked to vanquish a bad guy. Doubt I could, even if I was asked. We’re healers, not executioners.”

  “Ah. I’ve heard stories from my granny about waving wands and disappearing creeps.”

  “Molly is pretty awesome,” Winnie said. “She’s kept me out of the emergency room more than once.”

  “Easy enough. Again, my family is all about healing and using what we’ve been gifted with to make things better. Besides, Winnie isn’t prone to major injury, thank goodness, and honestly, that’s less about magic and more about using what nature provides to heal. We’ve been utilizing our skills throughout the years to help others.”

  “Ah, that she is,” Angus said, obviously referring to Winnie and her tendency to injure herself. “I’ve had occasion to dress a minor wound or two myself. For such an accomplished chef she’s a wee bit dangerous with a knife.”

  Winnie’s protest was quick. “You two make it sound like I’m accident-prone.”

  “Well, darlin’, if the shoe fits.” Angus turned a look on Winnie that warmed Molly’s heart. She wished someone would gaze at her that way. Her own fault really. She’d spent all her time building her business and keeping her secrets safe. The only risk she’d ever taken in her life was starting the bakery. Financial risk she was willing to go for, emotional never. Pretty much a coward in that respect.

  As she watched the interaction between Angus and Winnie, the feeling of isolation grew. She didn’t want to be alone. Didn’t want to turn into a crazy cat lady, and the way things were going, that’s what might happen. As much as she liked cats, not exactly how she wanted to end up. Maybe after the fire damage was repaired and life was back to normal, she’d try to start dating. Wait, no, not try. She would start dating again. It was past time to let go of the fear.

  “What’s the coolest thing you can do?” The question broke into her silent planning. Angus, sitting on the rock leaning into Winnie in that comfortable way that spoke of two people in harmony, was watching her intently. She had a funny feeling he could almost read her thoughts. What kind of family did Angus come from? Perhaps a little magic in his blood too?

  She started to answer that she couldn’t really do anything cool and then stopped. For a moment, she stared up into the clear sky and gave the question serious thought. She’d learned to do some unique and wonderful things from the women in her family, yet even with all that education, she still did
n’t hold the special thing that would let her stand shoulder to shoulder with the elders of her family. It was a little like being a toddler and learning to walk while navigating between surfaces—from tile, to carpet, to hardwood.

  Bringing her gaze back down from the blue sky, she stared over at Angus. “I don’t know yet. My mother is a true healer. My grandmother, a precognitive. Me? Well, the universe hasn’t seen fit to show me what my bit of talent is yet.”

  “Really?” Winnie asked. “You never told me that.”

  Molly shrugged. “No big deal. In time, I’m sure I’ll find out. In the meantime, I’m good. Mom and Grandma were great teachers, and I’ve learned a lot throughout my life. I can do easy stuff, like the blessing I put on what’s left of my shop. That’s about it.”

  “Liar, liar, pants on fire.” Winnie turned and looked at Angus. “Whenever she tells a lie she does that shrug thing. She’d totally suck at poker.”

  “I do not.”

  “Ah, yeah, you do. Let’s play poker sometime. I’ll wipe you out.”

  Well, maybe she did have a tell. Lying wasn’t exactly her strong suit. Neither was poker. “Okay, so it is kind of a big deal. Apparently, I’m a late bloomer. Most women in my family develop their superpower, if you will, well before they’re my age. I’m beginning to wonder if I’m the family’s black sheep. Gran keeps telling me that it’ll come to me when I need it most. I guess I just haven’t needed it yet.”

  Angus tilted his head and studied her intently. “No,” he said slowly. “You are no black sheep. I can feel the power in you just waiting to come out.”

  “You can feel the power in me?” For the first time, she looked at him closer. Much closer than simply as Winnie’s boyfriend. “What are you?”

  Winnie leaned away and stared at him too. “Yes, my handsome Irishman. What are you?”

  His smile grew radiant. “A simple man from the green fields of Ireland. That’s all.”

  Sure, she thought, and I’m a simple baker.

  * * *

  Though they’d been hiking again for at least an hour, Winnie kept mulling over their conversation as they drank the entire bottle of wine Angus had brought along. It was fun to sit in the sunshine and share the spirits, but she was a little unsettled by what they’d talked about. It wasn’t so much the turn toward Molly’s being a witch. She’d known that little secret for years.

  What did surprise her was how quickly Molly had shared it with Angus. That wasn’t like her. What made it even stranger was the vibe that rolled off Angus when she did. It threw Winnie off in an unexpected way. For heaven’s sake, she’d been sleeping with the man for over a year, yet she’d never felt that wave of something she couldn’t describe come over him. It sent chills down her arms. It was exciting and scary all at the same time. It made her wonder: Did she really know him at all? Did it really matter?

  “What are you thinking about so hard, love?” Angus put an arm around her shoulders. His closeness felt as wonderful as always. Some things didn’t change. “You’re frowning on this glorious day. Have I not shown you, Molly, and Loba a wonderful time?”

  Her first instinct was to say yes. But she gazed at the sky and suddenly questioned exactly how glorious it really was. It had nothing to do with Angus either. He was a pretty good team leader. It was less about Angus and more about Mother Nature making her question their adventure. An hour ago, it had been clear skies and sunshine. That was pretty much gone now. Dark clouds had moved in to push out the blue, and the air, so warm earlier, was taking on a chill. It sort of matched the mood settling on her.

  “A good time? Yes, you have. That’s not it.”

  “What is it then?”

  She looked at him. “I’m thinking that parts of you are a mystery to me.”

  He leaned away with a surprised expression. “You know me better than anyone.”

  How true was that? This morning she would have said that she knew him well. Not now. “Do I?”

  His green eyes mirrored his surprise. It might be her imagination, but she thought she glimpsed a bit of hurt along with it. “Indeed. Better than anyone. I don’t understand, love. What’s bothering you? What’s brought on this change?”

  She looked back to see Molly wandering to the water’s edge with her phone up. She was intent on taking a picture of an eagle soaring over the river, presumably in search of a tasty salmon. For the moment, the two of them were alone.

  Taking his face between her hands, she stared into his eyes. “Something you said back there, it changed you. It was an Angus I’ve never seen before.”

  He put his hands over hers. “Ah, the secret me,” he said in his beautifully accented voice. Regardless of anything else, she didn’t believe she’d ever get tired of listening to him.

  “The secret you,” she whispered. She felt left out somehow, and it hurt.

  “I owe you an explanation.”

  “You think?” Please let him open his heart and his secrets to her.

  He kissed her. “I do indeed think.” He looked over her shoulder and then back at her. “Later, luv. You and I will talk. My secrets will be your secrets.”

  “You promise?”

  His index finger drew made a cross against his chest. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

  “Cross your heart, but please don’t hope to die.” Just the thought of it made her grow cold. Her world would never be right without him in it.

  His smile returned and, with it, the twinkle in his green eyes. “Your wish is my command, my beautiful lady.”

  “Hey,” Molly said as she walked up next to them. “Things aren’t looking or sounding so good.” Just as the words left her lips, thunder roared and lightning flashed. The storm was way too close. “I think we’re going to get dumped on. Anyone bring a rain jacket?”

  The question was barely out of her mouth when the sky opened up and rain began to pour. Great, just great. She was trying to show her friend a relaxing, good time to take her mind off the bakery, and what happened? Everything turned to crap. Her man morphed into mysterious. The weather soured. And to top it all off, she didn’t have rain gear.

  “This way,” Angus shouted over the crashing thunder. “There’s an old cabin up here where we can get inside for a few and wait out the rain.” He ran from the open fields along the river and into the trees that stretched like a barrier wall to the north.

  “How do you know about a cabin?”

  He flashed a smile. “Not my first time here, luv. Now, come on, before we get drenched.”

  She should be surprised, but at this point, she wasn’t. Apparently they had a lot of getting to know each other left to do. As he said, though, later. She was all for running for cover right now.

  It was a great idea, at least until they burst through the trees and into a small clearing. She was hoping to see some kind of sturdy lodge-type structure. What she saw didn’t come close to her expectation. The cabin wasn’t much. It was blackened from age and disuse, and twenty feet from the drooping door stood what once, long ago, must have been a magnificent tree. Now it was battered, and on one side, it looked as though it must have suffered burns. There was no odor on the air. The fire had to have been a long time ago. Why hadn’t nature repaired the damaged portion? Wasn’t that what it usually did?

  She didn’t stop to give it any serious consideration because she was getting drenched. Getting under cover was a bigger priority than understanding nature’s quirks. Angus opened the door to the screams of its stiff and rusted hinges and held it open as both she and Molly raced through. Clearly, nobody had been in here for a long time, and judging by its outward appearance, she had a good idea why. Hopefully it didn’t crumble on top of their heads from the force of the storm.

  Molly stopped just inside, pleading with Loba. “Come on, my good girl. Get inside. You’re getting all wet.”

  Winnie turned as she shook out her hair, sending droplets of water in every direction. Angus was still holding the door open, but Loba remained ou
tside. It was like an invisible barrier blocked her entry. “What’s up with her?”

  Molly dropped to her knees at the door. “Loba, come.” The plea in her voice was tinged with concern. Winnie understood, because the two of them were always in sync. That Loba was hesitating to go inside with Molly didn’t make a whole lot of sense, and it sent an uneasy feeling racing through Winnie. She’d never seen Loba hesitate at anything Molly asked of her. While Winnie didn’t have a dog of her own right now, she’d grown up with them. One lesson she’d learned along the way: always trust your dog.

  After a long pause, the beautiful dog, her head down and her eyes narrowed, gingerly stepped inside. A low growl came from deep in her throat.

  Chapter Four

  1837

  Aquene rode along the Umatilla River until it became one with the Columbia. She and Tilla shared the clear water and drank until their thirst was quenched. At night, she slept beneath the stars and breathed in the air that filled her with life. She did not worry that she traveled alone, for she felt the Great Spirit with her always. The days were bright and the nights warm. The fish were plentiful and the grasses nourishing. Both she and Tilla were full of health and happiness. Every sign assured her that her quest was most certainly a gift of great importance.

  Until now. Above them the skies grew sullen, and angry screams filled the air. Soon the rains would come, for that was the way of the darkness. Turning Tilla away from the river and the grassy shores, she rode toward the trees that grew thick, not far from the mighty waters. As she grew closer to the trees, the scent of burned wood filled her nose. It was not a fire of recent time, yet its scent lingered from many full moons past, as if to remind all who traveled by that destruction had visited here.