Paranormally Yours: A Boxed Set

by Alisha Basso

  LAUREN hoped they would be gone from Steepside quickly, but it was not so simple. The names of the dead needed to be spoken.

  Three times.

  Once to acknowledge the person’s life, once as a promise to remember, and once more to release them from the physical plane. The more people who participated in the ritual, the better. She untacked Pindar and let him loose. Traces of grass clung to the edges of the lake, and she didn’t think the horse would stray.

  She resigned herself to join the ceremony and felt relieved to make this gesture for the people of the tiny village. Armody had been too distraught to remember everyone’s name, even though she had lived in Steepside her entire life and there were fewer than one hundred people. She had tried, but kept getting mixed up, and had become paralyzed with fear that their souls would go to the sea if she didn’t do it right.

  Those with no one to say their name got forever stuck under water, evidently. Unless someone came along to speak for them. Lauren figured it was no weirder than many superstitions of her own world.

  Leinos knew everyone’s name. And their ages. And their relationships to one another. He added this information as he recited the roll of freshly dead. Lauren stood with the others in a circle. Armody had found a bell in the rubble. She rang it after each name had been invoked three times.

  “Erranor, son of Erran, life-mate of Arrala, father of Erranorla, seventy-five.” Leinos said.

  “We thank you.”

  “Erranor.”

  “We remember you.”

  “Erranor.”

  “We release you.”

  The bell clanged, echoing over the lake.

  The recitation became a chant, an incantation to stir the soul, prodding hot grief to the surface where it could be released.

  Lauren cried and didn’t try to stop it or hide it. Armody had to hand the bell to Malek who looked proud to be entrusted with the task. Artepa and Pheeso held hands. Leinos closed his eyes and stayed steady. Lauren imagined him picturing each person, etching them in his memory. His voice was beautiful. Deep and rich and filled with love for the people he’d known and whom he hadn’t been present to save.

  The wind picked up, swirling smoke and ash in a dense cloud over the lake. Pindar huffed his displeasure, but didn’t stop cropping grass sprigs down to their roots. The air currents shifted. A cloud billowed around them, pushing cinders into their eyes and making their cloaks flutter and snap like flags. Lauren felt she was being buffeted by the spirits of the dead taking a final turn around their village, caressing the warm flesh of the living one last time.

  An hour later they were on their way with no new provisions and another mouth to feed, headed for a sacred spring that might yield fish to fill the hollows of their bellies if not the craters in their hearts.

  ~~~

  The afternoon blurred into sensation—the cadence of Pindar’s stride and the matching swing of her hips, the squeak of saddle leather and glide of reins along his neck, the wanton grumbling of her stomach and the plod, plod, plod, plod of everyone’s even footfalls punctuated by the occasional slip on loose gravel followed by muted curse. Lauren let her eyes close and kept her ears open. Goddess blood…frit dung…frit spit…son of a frit. Later, she’d ask what a frit was. Pheeso either missed his footing more often or simply liked to complain, but he swore the most.

  When she thought—which she resisted but couldn’t help—she tried out arguments against sleeping with Leinos again. A frivolous thing to ponder compared with the implications of flowers sprouting in their wake, a whole town incinerated by flying bird-men, and reviving an entire country. Exactly why she stuck with this subject. The other topics were beyond big. They were huge.

  Her attraction to Supreme Guardian Leinos, on the other hand, was of immediate concern.

  She was fairly certain he wouldn’t be able to use the cold in his favor tonight. The temperature rose as they descended, and while it was by no means hot, she didn’t think they’d have to share body heat to stay alive, or give their cloaks to Pindar to keep him from freezing.

  She slept better alone, that’s what she’d say. They were so respectful of her, surely he would acquiesce to this simple request without challenge.

  And if he didn’t? Could she tell him the truth? What was the truth? She was terrified of him, although she couldn’t justify the word terrified in this context anymore, not after today.

  Scared.

  Afraid.

  His strength and kindness, that rare smile, pulled her to him as surely as gravity kept her feet on the ground. She shook her head. It was too much. She already felt a part of this place, as if she’d always been here. As if this were where she belonged, just as he’d said.

  If she worked at it, she could conjure up her daily routine at home, but it seemed less distinct—less real—by the minute.

  She’d been here, what, two days?

  Pindar’s stride changed as if he’d stepped in a hole, and the sharp scent of pine filled her nose. She opened her eyes. They were strung along a narrow path, deep in needles, surrounded by dense blue-green branches and quiet. Lauren inhaled to her toes and sighed.

  Artepa walked a little ways ahead of her, no one behind, and the others were farther up the trail, so Lauren decided this might be a good time to broach the subject of their sleeping arrangements. Scaredy-cat that she was, raising the question with another woman was easier than confronting Leinos. She hopped down, slid up her stirrups, and jogged to catch the other woman. Pindar trotted along as well, snorting into Artepa’s hair when they stopped at her side.

  Artepa jumped.

  “Sorry!” Lauren brushed ineffectually at the thousand specks of wet dirt clinging to the woman’s sleek hair.

  Artepa stepped away and kept a wary eye on the horse looming over her shoulder. The wariness wasn’t born of fear, though. Longing and reverence flitted across the woman’s features, and the desire to do right without being sure what that entailed.

  Suddenly, Lauren felt overwhelmed with the task before her. She couldn’t very well call the horses, then leave these people to their own devices. Who would train them?

  “Hey, there’s nothing to be afraid of.” Thankfully, it had grown warm enough to shed their gloves. She raised the woman’s hand to the stallion’s soft muzzle. “Just let him sniff you.”

  Artepa looked unsure, but held her palm where the horse could smell it. He sniffed and licked her fingers. She jerked away, then giggled like a girl and put her hand out again.

  “He’s looking for treats,” Lauren said. “Wait a sec.” She went to her pack, scooped out a handful of grain, and transferred it to Artepa’s cupped hands. “Hold it near his mouth. Keep your fingers together and flat…”

  She watched as Pindar’s whiskers tickled Artepa and delighted wonder crept over her face. A smile transformed the woman, erasing years of care and thwarted hope. This was a start. Lauren would do what she could, one person at a time until she could return home.

  A belligerent voice in her head asked, And return to what?

  Lauren didn’t have a ready answer.

  Artepa waited until the horse had licked her hands clean, then brought them to her nose, inhaling deeply. “Sweet horse breath,” she said. “Just as in the prophecy.”

  “What does that prophecy say exactly?”

  “The ground will not shake from sacred hooves, nor the wind carry a proud whinny, nor warriors smell sweet horse breath for two-hundred and twenty-two courses,” Artepa recited. “But before the horses leave forever, a new Horsecaller will come along dark, unused paths.” She sniffed her hands with a smile.

  “And here you are.”

  Up ahead, Leinos had stopped to wait for them.

  “And here I am,” Lauren said. But she didn’t want to discuss prophecies. “More importantly, are we there yet?”

  “Where?”

  “Wherever we’re going to camp tonight.”

  “Ah, yes. The spring. I have not been there in so long.” S
he rubbed her abdomen. “I hope the fish are willing.”

  “Willing?”

  “It is said that if you are true, and you immerse yourself in the spring’s water, fish will jump out onto the ground for you.”

  “Really. And you’ve experienced this?”

  Artepa lifted her shoulders in an apologetic shrug. “Only one fish offered itself, but he made a fine supper. And the water is hot.”

  Interesting and a little crazy, but she needed to steer the conversation back before they caught up with Leinos. “It’s not as cold here as it was on top of the mountain.”

  “True, but the water will feel good just the same.”

  “Right. But we won’t need all those furs for Pindar because it’s not cold out.”

  “That is up to you, Lady Horsecaller.”

  “I’m thinking not.” Now that it came to it, she couldn’t find the needed words. Then, inspiration struck. “Is there a place for horses at the spring like there was last night?”

  “I do not think so.”

  “Then I’d better sleep near him.” She pointed over her shoulder at Pindar. He swiveled his ears to attention and looked like he might snort again at this absurd suggestion.

  Artepa hesitated a moment, then said, “Of course, my lady. As you wish.” She didn’t sound convinced.

  “Alone,” Lauren added, wanting to make sure this was clear. Leinos was striding toward them, his long legs closing the distance too quickly.

  “Alone, my lady?”

  “I sleep better that way.”

  The Supreme Guardian came abreast. Lauren kept forgetting how big he was until they were side-by-side again. The top of her head barely reached his collar bones. She tried to forget how her stomach did happy little backflips whenever he came near, but that didn’t stop it from happening.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked.

  “No—” Lauren started.

  “The Lady Horsecaller does not wish for the comfort of another tonight,” Artepa supplied helpfully.

  Unhelpfully. The Supreme Guardian’s eyebrows drew together, deepening the crease between them.

  “Perhaps you prefer someone else’s comfort?”

  Oh, brother, she hadn’t expected he would take it personally. Lauren forced a laugh and began walking to cover her chagrin. “You want to talk about comfort?”

  Leinos kept pace and Artepa fell back.

  “I’ll tell you what comfort is,” Lauren continued. “It’s a pillow-top mattress and Egyptian cotton sheets. A coffee machine that brews to my exact specifications at the exact moment I want it in the morning. It’s central heat and air-conditioning and hot and cold running water with lots and lots of hot. A pantry full, full of food.” She paused and pointed at Leinos. “Especially chocolate. And fresh raspberries. In season, of course. A toilet. God, I never appreciated what a luxury that is. Lip balm.” She ticked items off on her fingers. “Red wine. Shelves of books. Thick towels. Soap…”

  At the expression on his face, she heard herself for the spoiled brat she sounded like. He looked a little bemused and a little indulgent and a lot…disappointed. Hurt, even. She shouldn’t care what he felt. She’d kept her emotions in check for some time. Since long before the divorce. She never got pulled into anyone else’s drama. If she didn’t get involved, she couldn’t get hurt. Or upset others. Life stayed small that way. Safe.

  Images from Steepside slammed into her. “Oh, God, I’m an idiot, I didn’t mean—”

  “Of course,” he said, cutting her off.

  Leinos was master of his feelings as well. He’d revealed his inner world only briefly, but now had arranged his features into cool indifference.

  “We will do what we can to accommodate your…comfort, my lady.”

  Terse. Formal. Restraining anger.

  No, Lauren wanted to scream. I take it back. But it was too late.

  Artepa circled behind the Supreme Guardian. Her eyes were round, her lips pulled in nervously as she stared at them with a shake of her head. Leinos turned from Lauren. Artepa froze in her tracks. He walked up the trail without glancing at either of them.

  His withdrawal clouted her like a punch to the gut. “What have I done? What does it mean, the comfort of another?”

  They watched Leinos stalk away, then Artepa appeared to gather her thoughts. “It means simply that all a warrior’s glory—all the things you listed—mean nothing without the comfort of another to rest with, to be easy with, to hold you if you need holding, or simply to be present so you know you are not alone.”

  Lauren had only been venting. Hadn’t she? Three days ago, all those things did matter. She knew they weren’t really important. She remembered the emptiness when she first moved out of the house she’d shared with Darren. She didn’t want Darren or anyone like him. That didn’t mean she preferred being solitary or didn’t need…comfort.

  “The Supreme Guardian sees to the needs of Cirq,” Artepa continued. “He gives comfort when needed, as he did today for Armody.”

  “And doesn’t ask it for himself.”

  “Never.”

  He probably needed it after today. So did she. They began walking again. “It’s just that…”

  Lauren’d been about to describe the tingly frisson of awareness every time the man came within a few feet, the shock of want at his touch, the fear of losing herself, then remembered Artepa and Pheeso were Leinos’s guardians. Probably anything she said would go straight from her mouth to his ears. She’d keep her feelings to herself, like she always did.

  “Are we almost there?”

  “It is ahead. Perhaps the spring’s warm waters will bring you comfort.”

  Great. She’d alienated Artepa as well. When Lauren decided to stay in Cirq—as if there’d been a choice—she’d blithely thought she could do what they needed and leave. Quickly. Without getting involved. How wrong she’d been. Foolish, really.

  As foolish as when she’d married Darren thinking he would change.

  He didn’t.

  As foolish as she’d been when she accepted her brother’s invitation to move back home, thinking it would fix everything for her.

  It didn’t.

  She continued to berate herself as she followed Artepa, leading Pindar along a widening path that muffled their footfalls with layers upon layers of pine needles. The deeper into the grove they went, the larger the trees. Taller and thicker and farther apart with few lower branches to obstruct the view. Yet all that could be seen to either side was an increasing density of trunks until they blended into darkness. It was getting toward evening and not much light penetrated the thick canopy from the cloudy sky above. Did the sun ever shine in this place?

  Still, their steps churned scents of fresh and decaying pine into the air and this reminded Lauren of one of her favorite places to ride. But picturing it didn’t bring any measure of peace to her agitated thoughts.

  By the time they reached the gate to the sacred spring, she had solved nothing nor drawn any helpful conclusions. Instead, she merely plowed the same furrow over and over—how stupid and insensitive she was, and, if she were completely honest—how apathetic she had become long before arriving in Cirq.

  As they approached, two guards snapped a smart salute. Leinos nodded, but did not return the gesture. The man and woman assessed the rest of the group and exchanged nods with Artepa and Pheeso. Then, their gazes landed on Lauren and Pindar.

  “Any activity?” Leinos asked.

  “None, Guardian.”

  “Steepside has been destroyed by yekerk.”

  Both guards blanched and looked up sharply.

  Leinos moved closer to them. “They will not enter here.”

  “They penetrated Raverwood,” Pheeso said.

  Without moving, Leinos said, “It is impossible for them to enter the sacred grove of the goddess.”

  “It should have been impossible for them to enter Raverwood,” Pheeso said. “But they did.”

  Leinos turned slowly and stared a
t Pheeso, silencing him with a look as icy and bitter as the mountain’s wind. Everyone took a breath and held it. Pheeso either hadn’t gauged the Guardian’s mood or didn’t care. Lauren suspected this wouldn’t end well.

  “Vraz said the aegis over Raverwood had been broken,” Pheeso continued. An apprehensive note in his voice. “That it could be removed by another powerful sage. If he did it once—”

  “The aegis that protects this grove is not made by sages or crones or any mortal,” Leinos said, his tone clipped and icy. “But by the goddess herself.”

  He appeared to expand as he spoke. The air around him vibrated. He looked younger for a moment, the creases of his face eased, the hollows in his cheeks filled out. Around his shoulders, sparkling golden light glowed as if a beam of sunshine had escaped the clouds. Lauren looked up. No, the light emanated from him. She took a step back, deeply regretting her earlier flippancy if it had any part in bringing on whatever this was.

  Shock waves drummed through her chest like thunder rattling windows. Next to her, Artepa muttered something under her breath that sounded an awful lot like uh oh.

  “Yekerk. Will. Not. Enter. Here.”

  The words resonated from every direction as if projected by huge concert speakers. Everyone stepped back. Pindar shook his head, pranced and shook again. His hearing was so sensitive. Lauren stroked his neck but he wouldn’t be soothed. She reached up and grabbed his ears, trying to gently close them, but he tossed her away with a swing of his head. The noise reverberated through his entire body just at it did hers. She understood its source—sort of—the horse could only feel and react. He tried to escape—side-stepping, backing, lunging forward—she stayed at his shoulder and moved with him as if they were dancing a tango.

  Whatever it was, it ended quickly. The light around Leinos dimmed. The air stilled. Pindar settled with one last shake of his big body. And a little ball of annoyance lodged halfway between Lauren’s chest and belly. Was the Supreme Guardian put out because his guardian had challenged him? That’s what it looked like. And because she had rejected the comfort of another. What were these Guardians, anyway? She needed to educate herself. Her life might depend on it.