Seeker’s World

by K A Riley

  “I heard Miranda’s been trying to sink her press-on claws into Callum ever since he moved to town,” Liv said. “Not surprising, but still super-irritating.”

  As I watched him, Callum turned and shot me a look, his blue eyes flashing behind the large, angry-looking eyeholes of his mask. His irises flared under the last rays of the setting sun so that, just for a second, they looked as though they were glowing gold before shifting back to that icy ocean blue.

  Callum nodded and stepped away from the Charmers, and before I knew it, he’d tucked himself somewhere up ahead in the pack. I couldn’t help feeling hurt that he hadn’t come over to say “Hi” after what had happened between us earlier. Then again, maybe he’d just been playing with my mind for kicks. Maybe he was the kind of guy who thought it was fun to tell a girl she was beautiful and then blow her off.

  “Vega? You okay?” Will asked, taking hold of my arm as we shuffled along with the rowdy crowd.

  Snap out of it, I told myself. It’s not like Callum’s your boyfriend. You just met the guy today.

  “Fine,” I lied. “I’m fine.”

  “Come on, let’s do this!” Liv said, tucking herself between Will and me and hooking her arms into ours. It was nice having her next to me. Her presence made me feel like the world had at least retained some element of normalcy after all of today’s wackiness.

  The crowd pushed forward down the road between the yellow police barriers lining the jogging path in the park. Our candles lit the way as the sun finished its descent and the moon rose high over the Commons. After a time, a chorus somewhere within the crowd began to belt out a traditional song written for the procession. I’d never really paid attention to the lyrics, but for some reason, this time I forced myself to listen, especially after one verse in particular caught my attention:

  Midsummer comes, the dragons wake,

  The lands begin to shift

  New doors open to the world of old

  As the Seekers gain their gift

  I nearly stopped in my tracks, stunned to hear the word Seeker—a word I must have heard every year at Midsummer Fest without ever registering it. I turned to Will, who was busy listening to Liv recount a radically embellished story about catching what sounded like a very small fish at the cottage with her father.

  What does it mean? I wondered. The Seekers gain their gift? What gift, exactly? Was this about the key? Nana’s present? And what was that line about the dragons?

  I tried to make out the rest of the lyrics, which were mostly about falling leaves, music, and wind. None of them gave me any hints as to what a Seeker was, or just why I’d been given the key.

  We walked until we made our way out of the park, then proceeded down High Street. Residents of Fairhaven who weren’t participating in the procession had come to watch and were lining the street on either side.

  We’d just wandered past The Novel Hovel when I spotted a set of dark eyes to my left. A tall, thin man with black hair was staring at me, his fingers balled into menacing fists. I recognized him immediately as the groundskeeper who’d waved at me when Liv and I walked past the park that morning. As we passed him, I turned around to see him tucking himself into the procession behind us.

  To my right, Liv was busily asking Will questions about every topic imaginable. What courses he planned to take at college, how often he’d be coming home, if he was living in residence, how likely it was that he’d remain single for the next four years. As room on the street grew narrower, I pulled up to walk behind them, smiling quietly to myself as I studied their body language. Will was keeping his distance, but Liv kept sidling up right next to him as though hoping for a little accidental contact. I almost wanted to put her out of her misery by offering to set her up on a date with some guy or other. If only I actually knew any boys. I would have suggested Kevin Lewandowski; after all, he was smart and cute. Then again, he hadn’t spoken to me or made eye contact since our little spin-the-bottle disaster.

  So, instead of contemplating potential mates to distract my hyper-amorous friend, I found myself looking over my shoulder as we walked, searching for the dark-haired man in the crowd. At one point I saw him, his ghostly face standing out among a sea of masks, his dark eyes oddly luminous under the pale street lamps.

  When I turned back, I’d lost Will and Liv in the jostling crowd. I was about to leap forward through the revelers and try to catch up when a car pulled out of a driveway in front of me, blocking my path.

  It was so close, I had to put my hand on the hood of the car and skip back to avoid being hit. When it had pulled out again, I picked up my pace, pushing forward to try to locate Will and Liv. I’d just come to the narrow alley between the bakery and the travel agency when a hand clamped down hard on my shoulder and dragged me to the side. Thrown off balance, I staggered into the alley, my hands reaching for the brick walls to either side in an attempt to steady myself. I spun around, cursing my mask for cutting off my peripheral vision.

  Right in front of me was the dark-haired man whose black eyes were staring into my own, though I knew all he could see was an eyeless white face staring back at him.

  The man’s face contorted as he edged toward me, his lips curling down into a savage, canine snarl as a low, animalistic grumble emerged from deep inside his chest.

  “What do you want?” I asked, reaching inside my satchel, hoping to find something I could use as a weapon. My fingers curled around a tube of lip gloss and two packs of gum but nothing deadly enough to scare anyone off. Damn it. Now I really wish I had brought that scythe from the garage.

  “You have something,” the man said, his voice raspy and low. “Something I need.” He moved toward me, pushing me deeper into the alley. I couldn’t run at him. He was too big for me to knock over, and besides, who knew what he’d do if he got his hands on me?

  I shouted at him to back off, but he didn’t budge, so I yelled again, this time louder, hoping someone on the street would hear me and come help. But by now, the Midsummer Fest parade had shifted into overdrive with hundreds of people singing, calling out to each other, and blasting out thundering rhythms on an orchestra of tambourines, kazoos, and kettle drums.

  I realized with a sinking sense of doom that my next best option was to run all the way down the alley until I came out on the other side. If I could just make it to the other end, I might be able to get away from this psycho and find help.

  “Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, backpedaling and looking the man in the eye. I had to work hard to keep my voice steady while I backed slowly away, deeper into the narrow alleyway. “I don’t know who you are.”

  “Who I am doesn’t matter. I know who you are, Vega Sloane,” he said. “I know what you are.”

  “Well,” I half-laughed, “that makes one of us.”

  Before he could take another step toward me, I spun around and sprinted down the alley, running as fast as I could through an obstacle course of garbage cans, wooden skids, and a line of overturned shopping carts. But as fast as I was sprinting through the dark, the man’s rapid, heavy footsteps pounded right behind me, getting louder and closer with each step. I bolted, my eyes locked on the bright spot of light at the end of the alleyway up ahead.

  After twenty or so seconds, I began to wonder how it was that the brick walls were still rising up on either side of me. By now I should have freed myself from the oppressive, narrow corridor and hit the street at the opposite end. But the alley refused to end. Even stranger, a thin mist had begun swirling around my feet, turning quickly into a dense fog. As I tore along, losing sight of my own feet, the walls to my left and right disintegrated. In their place, thick, arching trees appeared, imprisoning me beneath their limbs. The scent of wet leaves hung in the air. All around me, shadows appeared, swayed, and disappeared like panthers preparing to pounce. Reeling, I pushed forward, willing this nightmare to end…and praying it wouldn’t end in my death.

  Bursting from the fog, I slid to an abrupt stop at a l
arge wooden door blocking my way. The thick, impenetrable barrier was ornately carved with the twisting neck of an immense, fire-breathing dragon that was all too similar to the one I’d seen in my nightmare earlier.

  With my throat raw and tears of terror welling up in my eyes, I slapped my palms against the door and then tried pounding on it with the sides of my fists. It didn’t budge. Whipping around, I saw the man slow to an easy jog and then to a determined stride, confident he’d trapped me at last.

  I spun back to the door, my eyes locking onto a large keyhole, glowing like a lighthouse beacon in a storm. Without thinking and acting on a combination of instinct and pure adrenaline, I snatched the dragon-headed key off the chain around my neck and thrust the silver shaft into the lock. I was already patting myself on the back for my quick thinking when a pair of powerful hands grabbed my shoulders and yanked me backwards.

  I watched in horror as the door vanished into the mist, and the key fell to the ground with a sickening clang.

  Waerg

  I twisted around to confront my attacker, ready to scream. To fight. To do whatever I needed to do. My pulse pounded in my temples. My stomach seized into a rigid knot. A million scenarios—none of them good—flashed through my mind about how this might go. I might not have had the greatest life ever. But it was my life, and I wasn’t ready for it to end.

  Give me one more chance, I prayed to the universe and to whatever guiding force might be out there. One more chance to see Will. To see Liv. To see Callum. I promise to do better. To be better. Just please, please, please let me out of this.

  My prayers went unanswered.

  The man swung me around, pushing me hard against the alley wall. Every instinct I had to run fizzled away to be replaced by a strange paralysis. It wasn’t fear. More like I was frozen, hypnotized. Unable to move, I had no choice but to look into the face of the man glaring fire at me.

  Only he wasn’t a man. Not anymore.

  Staring into my eyes was a monstrous gray wolf, its lips pulled back in a snarl, its teeth jagged and razor-sharp. The fur on its back and shoulders bristled, its back legs coiled under its broad body as it prepared to pounce.

  Tearing off my mask, I leaned back against the cold brick wall, my hands open and extended in front of me. My heart and lungs tightened with horror, tears burning in my eyes at the thought of being ripped apart and eaten alive. But as the mask fell to the ground from my trembling fingers, the wolf—in less than the space of an eye-blink—morphed back into the man who’d been chasing me. In the place of a mouth full of sharp teeth was a set of dry, thin lips. In the place of a long muzzle and fur were creased skin, a crooked nose, and eyes as black and cold as a rag doll’s.

  My throat went raw. My eyes were stinging and wet. Either I was dreaming, seeing things, or else I’d gone completely insane. “What do you want?” I stammered through a trickle of tears.

  My pursuer pulled his eyes to the ground behind me, focusing on the spot where the dragon key lay shining in the darkness by my heel. “Mistress sent me for it,” he said in a voice more animal than human. “Mistress says you must not find them…You must be stopped.”

  “Leave me alone!” I shot back, a lump forming in my throat.

  “Give it to me,” he said with a nod toward the ground at my feet. “Offer it to me, and I will accept.”

  “Fine,” I stammered, twisting around to pick the key up and thrusting my arm toward him. “Take it!”

  He started to hold out his hand but jerked it back.

  “Here! Take it!” Anger was bubbling up inside me now, feeding on my fear. I hated feeling so vulnerable, so helpless.

  But instead of taking the dragon key and leaving me alone, the man dropped his eyes and shook his head. “I can’t.”

  I chucked the key to the ground at his feet and started to step away. “You wanted it. It’s all yours. Just leave me alone.”

  The sinister look in my stalker’s eyes softened as he knelt down and cupped his hands around the key without touching it.

  “I can’t accept it if it’s given out of fear. The Old Magic doesn’t allow it.”

  “Then we’re in for a long night, Buddy,” I stammered. “Because fear is pretty much all I’ve got right now.” As I stared at him, the sudden realization flashed through my mind that he could have easily shoved me out of the way, grabbed the key, and bolted. But he just knelt there, looking back and forth between me and the dirty ground where the key sat, glinting in the yellow light cast by a pair of curtained windows on the second floor above our heads.

  “Look,” I said, inching along the wall toward the far end of the alley. “You wanted the key. It’s yours. My brother is right down there in the parade. I’m going to get back to him, and you can have your Precious, and go terrorize someone else for a while.”

  “You should never have been given such a gift,” the man snarled, his face returning to a knot of crumpled rage as the wolf’s features flashed across his own. “You don’t know anything about the lands beyond the Breach.” He stood up again and stepped back, his chin tilted down so he was glaring at me through the tops of his eyes.

  “You’re right,” I said. “I don’t know anything about lands or breaches. But I promise to read all about them as soon as I get home.”

  As the man gave me a puzzled, head-scratching stare, a strange thought occurred to me: If this guy wanted the key, I should want it as far away from me as possible. But something about it was drawing me in, and something about his reaction told me the key might offer the protection or leverage I might need in case he changed his mind and decided to come after me again. Hesitant but drawn forward by a force beyond anything in my mind or body, I knelt down in front of the man, my eyes never wavering from his. With my fingers shaking, I picked up the key and held it next to the chain around my neck, where the two pieces of jewelry bound themselves protectively together, the chain embracing its partner by whatever bizarre magnetism made it work.

  “Look,” I said, standing back up with a sudden glimmer of confidence. “I don’t know what you want from me. But I do know that you’re a psycho, and I’m looking forward to seeing the cops come back here and taze your creepy ass back to whatever hole you crawled out of. I don’t know why I didn’t phone them the moment I set eyes on you.” Reaching into my back pocket but never taking my eyes off of my would-be assailant, I slipped my cell phone out, glanced down, and started to tap out 9-1-1.

  Before I could hit the last number, the fog around us dissipated, and the brick walls of the two buildings on either side of the alley reappeared. I didn’t know what was happening, only that I could hear the parade again.

  Will had to be close by now.

  So why did I still feel like I was about to die?

  Without warning, the man lunged at me as though he intended to rip my throat out, his hands reaching for my neck, clawing like the paws of a wild animal fighting for its life. “You should not have the dragon’s key!” he shrieked. “You cannot be worthy of it!”

  I leapt backwards, my phone skittering under a palette of wooden skids. Tripping over a break in the uneven surface of the dark alleyway, I fell with a heavy thud, and in a flash the man was on me again, gripping the neckline of my hoodie in his hard, bony fists and hauling me to my feet. I grabbed at his wrists, trying desperately to wrench him off, but he was too strong. I kicked at his legs as hard as I could, but he shrugged off my attack and slammed me hard against the alley wall. My head cracked against the jagged bricks, and nausea overtook me as I felt the heat of blood trickling down my neck. I crumpled to the ground, my body giving out under the shock.

  With a cluster of aluminum garbage cans on one side of me, a blue recycling dumpster on the other, and the menacing man looming in front of me, I was totally cornered. The man took a step backwards, a twisted smile on his lips as he cocked his head to the side like a curious dog.

  Determined not to die in that alley, I’d just begun to scramble to my feet when a deep voice from behind th
e man bellowed, “Get away from her!”

  I looked up past my enemy to see a pair of blue eyes piercing through the darkness, reflecting the dim light like a cat’s. A tall figure walked toward us, a dragon mask in his right hand.

  “Callum?” I breathed.

  “Did he hurt you, Vega?”

  I shook my head. “What? No. I mean, not really.”

  “Good.” Callum shouldered past the man to help me to my feet before turning back to take an intimidating wide-legged stance between us. “Leave,” he ordered. “You don’t belong here, Waerg. You know it. And your mistress knows it. She was wrong to send you.”

  “You don’t speak for my mistress, Callum Drake.” The words came out like the guttural warning of a feral animal. The sound was so shocking it didn’t even occur to me in the moment to question how the stranger knew Callum’s name. “She sent me here for a reason.”

  “I’m here for a reason, too,” Callum said, an unmistakable threat peppering his voice. “And your reason and my reason aren’t going to get along too well.”

  I could hear the crack and pop of Callum’s knuckles as he clenched his hands into fists at his sides.

  The man hesitated for a moment then tried to leap at me again, but as he did, Callum intercepted him, grabbed him by the collar and shoved him so hard against the alley wall I swore the ground shook beneath my feet. A spray of dust and pieces of brick blasted into the air.

  “Touch her again, wolf-kin, and I’ll kill you right here,” Callum hissed, his face an inch away from the other man’s.

  Cowed, the man nodded, the whites of his eyes glowing in the darkness. A toxic mist of fear clouded his face, and he whimpered like a frightened dog.

  Finally, Callum released him. The man recoiled in horror, shrinking into a small, curled up ball on the ground against the wall. “You don’t have the right,” he sniveled. “Mistress says…”