Walking Through Shadows

by Sheri Lewis Wohl

  To expect normal was silly. This was, after all, the home of a witch. Nothing was impossible for those who practiced the dark arts. He had seen it all, and thus this man in the unusual clothing should not be a great surprise. Witches were capable of many things the mind had trouble making sense of. Another reason his work was important. He banished that which strove to confuse and harm.

  With one last kick to the unmoving man, he turned and went back outside. He needed to be ready when she came. She was close, so close he could swear her smell was being carried on the wind. It would not be long now. His body hummed from his head down to the tips of his fingers. It was always this way when his work brought him to this point.

  Outside, he walked over to where he’d dropped his saddlebag before he went into the cabin and first took his Colt revolver from inside it. He lovingly ran his hand over the modern weapon. One of the beautiful things about living a long life was seeing changes like the wonderful gun he held in his hand. Back when he had begun his mission, he could never have imagined he would possess something so magical. His gun allowed him multiple shots, which meant his quarry had no chance for escape despite their never-ending efforts to elude him. He could easily stop them, allowing him to complete his job correctly each and every time. In those early days when so many of the black arts were roaming the countryside, a weapon like this would have been most welcomed.

  The gun was just one of the tools he employed to complete his task. Once he had the witch cornered he really needed only one simple tool, and it lay on the ground next to his saddlebag. He tucked the gun into the waist of his pants at the small of his back and then grabbed the rope he had carried looped over his shoulder as he had walked here. It already had a noose fashioned on one end, for he believed in always being prepared. He tossed the plain end up and over a branch of the same tree he had used only a year ago. It had worked for him then, and it would work for him now. After pulling the rope until the noose swung from the branch, he tied the plain end to the trunk of the tree. He smiled as he looked at the noose swinging from the high branch. Perfect.

  His smile grew as the sounds of movement in the trees reached him. She was still a distance off, but she was coming to him.

  Just as he knew she would.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Molly was plunging along determinedly behind Aquene, still feeling the glow that came with the unexpected kiss, when suddenly she stopped. “What?” Molly asked, not sure about why, when she was certain they were close, they would stop. Perhaps a little more lip-to-lip confidence? Worked for her. Oh, yeah, it really worked for her.

  One look at Aquene, and she was relatively certain that wasn’t why they stopped, disappointing as that was. Her face was dark, as if storm clouds gathered directly above her head. Molly looked up, expecting to see the presence of those black-bottomed clouds that brought the rain, a little surprised not to see a single one. The sky was clear, and though it was beginning to shadow, the day was simply fading into twilight.

  “Do you not feel it?”

  “Feel wha…” She took in the weight of the air that swirled around them. It was as if it carried a dump-truck load of dirt. Grave dirt. The thought hit her with frightening force. The universe, or perhaps Aquene’s Great Spirit, was trying to tell them something, and she was pretty sure the message started with the word beware!

  “Yeah…I do,” she said softly. “And it’s scaring me. Like a lot scaring me.”

  This guy they were chasing, or more likely was chasing them, was close; that much she instinctively understood. What bothered her wasn’t so much his proximity as her own feeling of inadequacy. What was she supposed to do? The book tucked inside her zipped jacket gave urgent warnings of his presence and alluded to the idea he’d been walking the earth for hundreds of years. If that was true, and it was kind of hard to believe, how was one baker from a couple of centuries in the future supposed to stop him? She didn’t even have one of her sturdy baking sheets to smack him with. One whack with one of those babies would ring anyone’s bell.

  Then she smiled. It was funny. If she was, as Aquene liked to say, speaking true, she’d have to admit that all along she’d been wondering how he could be an evil entity walking through time while also convincing herself this was just some sort of folk legend. Kind of like people who travel through time are just good plot lines for novels or books. Yeah, just like that.

  “Damn,” she muttered. “What do we do now to stop this bastard? It would be nice if we actually knew who he was, what he looked like. You know, little details like that.”

  For all she knew he could be six three and a good three-fifty. Between the two of them he would still outweigh them by over a hundred pounds and would have almost a foot in height over Molly. Not exactly the kind of odds she wanted to go up against.

  Of course, the opposite could be true as well. If history could be relied upon and he’d been around for as long as Hannah suggested, chances were they could look each other in the eye, so maybe the two of them could take him down. She wouldn’t need that baking sheet.

  For a brief moment, she thought about taking a chance that her latter assumption was correct. Then she decided maybe not. Gambling wasn’t exactly her forte, and now wasn’t the time to start banking on odds going her way. She patted the grimoire and had a thought.

  “I want to take a look at the book.”

  “We do not have time.”

  “Let’s make time.” For some reason she couldn’t explain, she felt strongly about this. Hannah was going to show her something, and it might very well be exactly what they needed to gain an advantage over this devil.

  “We must hurry,” Aquene said. “We have little time.”

  Molly kissed her on the cheek and once again felt the flutter of excitement that happened every time they touched. “Trust me. I’ll read fast.”

  September 30, 1836

  The time has come, dearest granddaughter, and the little strength I have left is for you. I carry great hope in my heart that you will survive. My own daughter’s life rests in your hands, and by stopping this monster, you will ensure the survival of our family and the magic that rests in each of our hearts. We are good people and always have been. Century after century we heal and we save. We do not take life. Ever.

  Until today. Sweet, sweet Molly, you are the chosen one, and I believe you have always known you were special. Your heart is that of a warrior, which is one of the reasons you were chosen for this task. You, with your hand joined to the one you love, will be able to stop him once and for all. You will help change the world. I know I ask of you great things. Do not worry, for it has always been written in the stars. You and the beautiful one who speaks to the Great Spirit will make his madness cease and send him to the hell that will embrace him with open arms.

  My strength is yours. My secrets are yours. My time has come to an end, for my blood spills on the floor, and the sound of many hooves herald his coming. I will not see another sunrise, but I go to meet my destiny with my heart free, for I know that one day you will come, and on that day, you will set the world right.

  My love to you, Molly of my blood. Blessed be.

  Well, if she’d had any doubts that Hannah was her ancestor, she didn’t any longer. Any residual denial faded like the daylight. She was in the middle of nowhere reading a grimoire a couple of hundred years old, and it was talking directly to her. Pretty cool.

  Even more cool was what else she wrote. A beautiful woman who speaks to the Great Spirit. Molly’s eyes met Aquene’s, and she had to accept without any lingering reservations that the magic in her family was powerful and strong, Hannah had taken a look at the future. She had known Molly would come, and she had known that Molly, along with Aquene, would stop the madness.

  Okay, so she’d just found her destiny. She had to send this guy to the lake of fire, and if she was reading between the lines correctly—and she was pretty sure she was—Granny wanted her to kill the guy. Great, just fucking great. How was that
going to play out in the threefold law of return? Mom would definitely not like this.

  She thought about Hannah’s words and all that she’d been taught. Her decision wasn’t that hard. Sometimes going on faith was the best thing a person could do. How many times had she been told that, when her time came, she’d know it? It was the day, and it was time to meet the monster head-on. If Hannah was right, she was going to put him six feet under. She still didn’t exactly know how. Then again…if Granny said she could, well, then just maybe she could.

  Tucking the book back into her jacket, she straightened up and held out her hand to Aquene. “Come on. Let’s go kick ass and take names.”

  * * *

  Winnie almost broke down crying when she realized she’d gone farther into the woods rather than toward the river. It had cost her time, and she didn’t have enough of it to lose even a minute. Once she righted herself, she ran as hard as she could. Every muscle screamed, and in the back of her mind she knew she’d be lucky to be able to walk tomorrow.

  Trail runners were nuts, she decided after the second time she picked herself up off the ground when she tripped on a fallen tree branch. It was hard enough to figure out how to get to the right spot without having to worry about every single flippin’ step. Unfortunately, she didn’t have a better choice. At least after she emerged from the trees, the land that spread out before her was blessedly free of thick trees. It made her time getting to the water much quicker.

  When they’d stood on the basalt rock cliffs and looked down this way, she’d been able to see both the man on horseback and what she hoped were Molly and Aquene. From all appearances they were heading in the direction of the cabin. Good, at least where Molly and Aquene were concerned. The man was an unknown, and out here in the Wild, Wild West, she wasn’t leaning toward helpful savior. She remembered her history lessons, and violence wasn’t unheard of, particularly considering many of the early settlers came out here to escape and hide.

  Well, she refused to worry about it. She’d deal with the guy if she had to. The most pressing issue wasn’t the stranger in the black hat. It was water. She had to get some up to Angus. Besides, as stressed out as she was right at the moment, she felt like she could take on anyone. If that butthead guy showed up, she’d kick the ever-lovin’ daylights out of him, and the horse he rode in on, to save her man. She guessed that’s what really being in love with someone meant. That and a combination of fatigue, fear, and adrenaline. Especially adrenaline.

  Funny, she’d known for a long time that she was falling in love with Angus, and what he’d said to her had made her heart soar. She just hadn’t realized until now how deep her feelings went. That she would take on a bear to protect him was enlightening and, well, kind of empowering. For the first time in her life, she felt kickass outside of the kitchen. She was talented with food, always had been, but she’d never stopped to consider that she might be more than a chef. Angus gave her so much more than love, and by God, whatever it took, she was going to make sure he survived so she could tell him.

  Carefully she picked her way down the incline to where the water rushed by. The ground was a little unstable, and she tried to make sure her footing was solid. Every year she heard stories of people who went missing in this river, and she didn’t want to be one of them. Particularly not in a century that didn’t belong to her.

  At last she made it safely to the water’s edge and was able to fill the kettle. As she retraced her steps, again making sure her footing was solid, she needed to use both hands to lug the heavy kettle up to the grass. She let out a big sigh of relief when she made it to flat, firm ground. Now she just had to get it back to Angus. He needed water in his system and a cool rag against his flaming skin as soon as possible.

  Hurrying, Winnie felt confident, even as her arms screamed at the weight of the kettle and the narrow metal handle dug into her palms. If she could drag Angus to the cabin on her litter, she could carry a container of water back there too. Her arms could fall out of the sockets, her hands shredded, and she would still hold on to the precious water. Her determination worked really well too, until she hit another one of those damned downed branches. She sprawled, face-first, toward the ground. Instinct made her let go of the kettle in order to use both hands to break her fall. It worked. Sort of. Pain shot up to her shoulders as her palms collided with the hard earth and her knees smacked the edge of the branch. She didn’t have to look at her legs to see if she’d injured herself. She could feel the warmth of the blood as it soaked through her pants.

  Finally, she succumbed to tears. The kettle lay on its side, pouring the hard-won water into the ground. “God damn it,” she roared up at the sky. “Why? Why would you do this to me?”

  Little surprise, she didn’t receive a response. God wasn’t answering her, and neither was anyone else, because she was alone. As in all alone in the wilderness of nineteenth-century Oregon. If her life could get any more fucked up, she’d be surprised.

  With the back of her hand, she wiped away the hot tears and then pushed herself up to her feet. Her knees felt like someone had smacked them with a baseball bat, and her palms were now red and swollen. Where was an EMT when you needed one?

  “No time for tantrums,” she muttered as she picked up the almost-empty kettle. The handle pressed against her tender flesh, and she winced. The thought of the kettle being filled again wasn’t appealing. No time to whine about it. She had to do what she had to do. Her aches and pains weren’t important. The life of the man she loved was.

  Overhead, the sun was marching toward the west, and that worried her. She was not an experienced navigator in her own century, where apps and GPS devices could help even the most inept to make their way out of a strange place. All she had today was her recollection of the track she had taken to get here, and she wanted the chance to retrace it all in daylight. This time, she ran to the river’s edge, slid down the embankment to the water without worrying about her footing, and filled the kettle again. She scrambled back up with no grace at all and began to run as fast as she could without spilling the precious contents. No way was she going to empty it again, and no way was she going to be out here alone once the sun set.

  “Hang on, Angus,” she said into the cooling air and fading sunlight. “I’m coming.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Though Aquene did not completely understand what Molly said, she did understand what she meant, and it made her heart happy. The warrior inside this woman was strong, powerful, and courageous. What was there not to admire in her? Nothing that Aquene had seen in their brief time together.

  “Before we go,” Molly put a hand on Aquene’s arm, “I want to throw out a little more magic.”

  “We must defeat him with our hands.” Molly’s magic was good; she had seen that herself. Now they did not have the time for it, for they, not the magic that Molly was born into or the powers the Great Spirit had blessed Aquene with, must stop this evil being. It was to be a battle of the flesh.

  Molly nodded. “I agree it’s going to be a very human-style takedown, but I truly believe we must arm ourselves with every weapon available. I don’t have much to offer. I plan to use what I do have. For me, it’s all about my family’s magic. It’s really the most important weapon I can bring to this fight.”

  Those were good words, and Aquene thought them well spoken. “What would you have me do?”

  Stretching out her arms, she said, “Take my hands.”

  It was the easiest thing she had been asked to do since she had left Alumpum and the others. She clasped Molly’s hands in hers and felt the immediate flow of power between them. If she lived to be a white-haired elder, she would always remember this moment.

  “You feel it too, don’t you?” Molly was gazing into her eyes.

  “Yes. It is there each time we touch.”

  Molly nodded. “Good. Now just hold on. I have got to concentrate and remember what my mother tried so hard to teach me. With any luck, it will work.”

 
; Holding Aquene’s hands tightly, Molly closed her eyes and began to speak quietly. “Now is the time for gathering in the shadows. We have suffered persecution at his hands for our beliefs, and many have died. Yet we have been reborn among our own. I am one of the hidden children, and from generation to generation knowledge has been passed on. In remembrance, I come now to honor the past, the present, and the future. All things are remembered. All things are restored. As it was in the time of our beginning, so it is now, so shall it be.”

  As before, the winds whirled around them and the air felt heavy. It also felt safe, as though whatever Molly’s words meant, they coaxed the world to close around them in the same warm, protective way a hide could keep her from dying when the winter snows came.

  Molly’s words trailed off and her eyes opened. “We’re ready now. It’s the best I can do for the moment.” She dropped Aquene’s hands.

  Aquene was not quite ready. “Wait,” she said at the same time she took hold of a leather thong that hung from her neck. She tugged on it and pulled the small bag that had been hidden beneath her clothing. Slipping the thong from around her neck, she took it and put it around Molly’s neck. The bag lay between her breasts.

  Molly’s hand went to the bag, and she started to open it. “No,” Aquene said at the same time she stilled Molly’s hand. “It is the way of my people and the bag is sacred. It must remain tied.”

  “But what’s inside?” She held it out and looked at it.

  Aquene shook her head. “I do not know, for as I gave it to you, so too was it given to me. It is not for us to see. We must only accept the gift of the magic and believe that it will protect.”