Unhidden (The Gatekeeper Chronicles Book 1)

by Dina Given

  My left hand fell away from the sword limply as a deep freeze spread down the length of my arm and up into my collarbone. The sword tip clanged on the pavement before I could compensate for the weapon’s added weight in my single hand. Although, let’s face it, if I couldn’t wield the damn sword well with two hands, there was no way I could do it with one.

  With fluid grace, the second shadow demon swept in and sliced ribbons into the back of my right thigh. With a cry, I fell to my knee, my quickly numbing leg no longer able to support my weight.

  ’Using the sword as a crutch, I staggered back to my feet, placing all of my weight on my good leg. The shadow demons held back, knowing defeated prey when they saw it. However, I wasn’t quite ready to concede just yet.

  Taking a calculated risk, I hefted the sword and flung it with a great heave at the creature closest to me. I didn’t wait for it to react, spinning, lunging toward the Glock that had come to a rest against the alley wall about twenty feet away. I landed a few feet short, crawling the remaining distance as the shadows came for me.

  A cold talon wrapped around my ankle and yanked, dragging me farther from my goal. It tore through my jeans and into my calf, freezing my left leg. I flipped onto my back. If I was going down, I didn’t want the final blow to come from behind.

  Limp and defenseless, the enemy rose up over me. Knowing I would be taken and tortured for God only knew what purpose until death finally took me, fear once again reared its ugly head. It crashed through me like an unending tidal wave, adding to the ceaseless cold that was creeping progressively through my body, turning me into a literal ice princess. That made me think of Jason and Daniel.

  A fresh assault of despair washed over me. I would never see them again. They would never know what had happened to me. I would disappear without a trace, and that would kill them. They wouldn’t rest until they had found out the truth. And what if they did learn the truth? That would put them squarely in the crosshairs of a powerful supernatural enemy they couldn’t hope to fight, let alone defeat. They would follow me into death, and I couldn’t accept that.

  The overwhelming fear transformed into overwhelming anger as I rebelled against the thought of danger coming to my friends, but I was still physically frozen, prone on the ground. The only exception was my right hand … and the warmth that now radiated from the center of my chest.

  Looking down, a deep indigo light pulsed from under the thin material of my torn top. It was radiating from the amulet. I had been wearing the thing around my neck for days, had probably examined it a hundred times, and I hadn’t gotten any closer to understanding its use or significance. Now, at the time of my greatest need, it had chosen to come to life. Was that what triggered it?

  I reached a shaking hand inside my top and pulled it out. The light pouring forth intensified and spilled into every corner and crevice of the alley. The shadow demons that had been looming over me screeched and wailed more sharply than any other sound they had previously made. Just when I thought my eardrums would start bleeding, the creatures disappeared. Whether they had fled to safety or had been obliterated, I couldn’t say, and I didn’t really care. I was simply relieved to be rid of them.

  The light in the amulet gradually died out as if it, too, knew I was safe from harm. When all was dark again, an intense weariness flooded through me. All of my energy reserves had been depleted, and I was running on fumes. All I wanted to do was close my eyes and sleep for days, but I still had Zane and Alex to deal with.

  Digging deep into sheer will and determination, I pulled myself along the cold concrete floor to where my gun still lay. Grasping the Glock in my hand was probably the same feeling a child had when snuggling a security blanket. I propped myself into a sitting position against the alley wall and placed the gun in my lap.

  While debating whether I even had the energy to lift it, I finally got a good look at what was happening between Zane and Alex , and I was completely unprepared for it.

  Although both men were bearing long, wooden staffs, they weren’t using them to bludgeon each other. Instead, odd-looking symbols that covered the smooth polished wood were glowing brightly, throwing what looked like blasts of energy at each other. Streams of white hot lightning flew from Zane’s staff, only to crash into an invisible barrier erected in front of Alex that shimmered almost imperceptibly when struck. A few motes of liquid fire splattered to the ground, alighting the drier pieces of trash, which burned out quickly. Alex returned in kind with a volley of ice shards that Zane countered with a wave of his staff, redirecting them to harmlessly hit the alley wall.

  The energies being thrown around the tight space of the alley formed themselves into swirling ribbons of flame, jagged forks of ice, and glittering bursts of dust and ash. For a time, I could do nothing except gape at the power, intensity, and sheer magnificence of the attacks.

  Blinking rapidly, I attempted to pull myself back to the reality of the situation. Looking more closely at the two men, I realized neither appeared to be in very good shape. Zane staggered on his feet after deflecting the last attack, looking for all the world like he was about to pass out. His skin was pale and glistening with sweat, looking like thin parchment stretched over hollow bones. Dark circles hung under his eyes, and he was breathing heavily.

  Zane pulled it together and countered, throwing another attack at Alex, who fell to one knee, cradling his arm when the energy hit the shield he had been holding in place. Deflecting the blow had clearly caused him physical pain, even though it had never actually touched him.

  This was ridiculous. These two were at a stalemate, and they couldn’t keep up the volleys much longer. Someone was going to throw a blow that the other would no longer be able to avert, and then the battle would be over. However, it was impossible to guess who would luck out in the end. I didn’t like those odds, and I was prepared to fix the game in my favor.

  Zane had tried to kill me and come very close to succeeding. I knew he wouldn’t give up until he had completed his mission; as a result, my life would be in danger as long as we both kept breathing. I wasn’t certain where Alex stood, but he hadn’t yet posed any threat to me. If he did, I would take care of him at that time, but until then, I had no good reason to kill him.

  I wrapped my weak fingers around the handle of the Glock and raised my arm. Between the exhaustion and the uncontrollable shivering from the shadow demons’ icy attack, I was struggling to take steady aim. When I got a clear shot, however, I took it.

  The sound of the Glock’s discharge was a loud crack, painful to my ears. Although the gun was fitted with a suppresser, in the enclosed space of the alley, the sound of the shot was magnified and reverberated off the walls.

  My aim had been off. I hit Zane in the shoulder instead of the head. He went spinning with the force of the bullet and slammed into the opposite wall, dropping his staff and clutching his wound, blood leaking out from between his fingers. He looked at me wild-eyed and in pain as I kept the weapon aimed at him. However, I simply couldn’t hold it any longer.

  The exhaustion and cold won out, my arm falling heavily to the ground. I didn’t release it from my grasp, but I wouldn’t be able to will my arm back up again if I tried.

  Zane wasn’t in any better condition than I was. He was spent from the battle as well as blood loss and didn’t even make an attempt to try to recover his staff. He probably didn’t have the strength left to lift it anyway.

  Alex recovered from his shock at the gunshot and ran to Zane’s side to assess his wound. With a relieved sigh, he said, “The bullet is lodged in your shoulder, but it missed anything vital. You’ll live as long as you get medical attention.” He tore off a piece of his shirt to use as a tourniquet on the wound. “That’ll slow the bleeding enough to buy you time until an ambulance arrives.” He pulled a Smartphone from his pants pocket and dialed 9-1-1. When he was done, he stood and came to me.

  Looking up at him in confusion, I asked, “Why did you just do that? Why are you trying to save
him when he would have killed you without hesitation?”

  He knelt by my side. “Emma, that is a very long story, one we’ll have to save for another time. Right now, let’s get you out of here so we can fix you up.”

  He hefted me into a fireman’s carry. Although it was the easiest way to carry a person, I was surprised he was able to manage at all, given his own current state of fatigue and burnout. He wasn’t moving fast, and his breath was coming in heavy pants, yet he somehow managed to make his way the few blocks to my apartment.

  You had to love New York City; no one even gave us a second glance.

  I awoke the next day in my own bed, surrounded by the pleasant scents of rosemary, basil, pine, and other aromas I couldn’t immediately place. Opening my eyes, I found my wounds slathered in some sort of green paste, which was the source of the fragrance. I also took note that I was completely unclothed except for the Hello Kitty underwear and black bra I had been wearing yesterday, my torn and filthy clothes strewn across the floor. I was grateful Alex had saved my ass, but I figured he could have thrown away my clothes or, at the very least, tossed them into a corner rather than simply leaving them unceremoniously lying about. Men were such slobs.

  I tested my limbs and was immensely grateful when they responded. The numbness was gone, replaced by the dull ache of muscle soreness. I used my hand to wipe some of the paste from the wound on my calf, revealing angry red lacerations, although they weren’t deep enough to have torn muscle as I had feared. The flesh wounds would heal and likely leave behind some thin scars yet no permanent damage. I had no doubt the shadow demons could have inflicted much more serious wounds, but they must have been holding back based on Zane’s orders to capture, not kill.

  I wasn’t entirely certain what the paste was meant to do, but I guessed it was for healing or pain relief. I would have to remember to ask Alex.

  I climbed slowly out of bed and stripped the sheets. As much as I liked the smell of the poultice, I didn’t want to sleep in green puree. I threw my torn clothing into the trash and grabbed a clean outfit, making my way downstairs to the shower.

  Stopping short at the kitchen, I groaned in annoyance at the mess. Alex was nowhere in sight; however, the sink was piled high with dirty, encrusted pots. Stems, leaves, and other scraps littered my white granite counters along with the dirty knives and spoons used to cut, chop, and mix the concoction. Alex clearly hadn’t even tried to tidy up after himself. Maybe I was being overly sensitive, but it felt like he had left this mess on purpose. I didn’t even know the guy, and he was already trying to irritate me. I seemed to be on everyone’s shit list these days.

  Despite that, when I saw him again, if I saw him again, I would have to thank Alex for getting me out of there last night and taking care of me. I had so many questions, and he had just disappeared without even leaving a note or a phone number. The only place I could think to look for him was back at Raines, but it wouldn’t open until this evening. In the meantime, I did have another stop I needed to make today that I was hoping would yield some answers.

  Sighing in resignation, I made my way to the shower.

  I emerged from the bathroom thirty minutes later, clean and dressed in jeans and a vintage Star Wars T-shirt, armed with my Glock and a wicked combat knife that I had slid into my boot. I didn’t want to get stuck again without a back-up weapon.

  I got to work, scrubbing pots and wiping down counter tops. When my apartment was back to its usual spotless condition, I grabbed my purse and headed to midtown.

  The sun was shining and the air was warming up quickly as I picked my way through the throngs of tourists in Times Square. Even though I had lived in Manhattan for years and walked through this area hundreds of times, I still couldn’t help looking up in awe at the massive video screens cycling through movie trailers and advertisements; billboards of male underwear models plastered onto the sides of buildings; and flashing marquees for Broadway theater productions.

  Hundreds of people were lined up at the TKTS booth, hoping to land discount tickets to their favorite musicals. Knock-off costumed characters of Elmo, Mickey Mouse, and Cookie Monster were trying to earn money by getting their photos taken with children and even some adults who saw the humor value in it. The Hard Rock Cafe and Toys R Us had lines that spilled out the front doors.

  It was just another ordinarily extraordinary day in New York City.

  A few blocks past Times Square and two avenues to the east, I found what I was looking for. A hanging sign swung gently in the light afternoon breeze above a shop entrance. Gold lettering on the sign’s midnight blue background identified the establishment as Alfreda’s Antiquarian Bookshop. Below the name was a beautifully intricate drawing of a tree with its curling gold branches extending out from a slender trunk to form a canopy of mesmerizing swirls. In the heart of the tree’s trunk was a single blue gem that glittered in the sunlight.

  This was the shop Daniel had recommended I visit because they might know something about my amulet. I’d had no intention of coming here when he had first mentioned it, but after last night, I needed to learn more about the object I wore around my neck. I had to tread carefully though; there were killers after me, and I didn’t want to draw undue attention to myself or to anyone else, for that matter, by flaunting the medallion.

  As I stepped through the front door, a small bell tinkled delicately, announcing my presence. The store wasn’t large, and a clutter of numerous mystical books and other paraphernalia filled every available space. Yet, rather than making the shop feel cramped and claustrophobic, it felt welcoming and cozy.

  Honey-colored shelves lined all of the walls, floor to ceiling. They were filled with books about magic, Wicca, philosophy, meditation, divination, and more. Other shelves were packed tightly with apothecary jars in an assortment of shapes, sizes, and colors, but all were labeled neatly with names like Adder’s Tongue, Devil’s Bone, Dragon’s Blood, Horehound, and Unicorn Root. Chest-high shelving units stood in the middle of the store, overflowing with crystals, wind chimes, beads, bowls, tarot cards, and other magical and spiritual trinkets. The air was scented heavily with sandalwood, vanilla, and other perfumes from the incense, candles, and oils available for purchase.

  The high-pitched musical voice of a woman who sounded more like a twelve-year-old than a twenty-something-year-old resonated from the checkout counter at the back of the shop. “Hey there!” came the bubbly welcome. “Feel free to take a look around. I don’t want to hover over you or be too overbearing, so I’ll stay back here. But you just let me know if there is anything I can help you with.”

  “Okay, thanks,” I responded, grateful I would be able to approach the discussion in my own time instead of being forced into a falsely cheery chat with the checkout girl.

  I walked slowly through the store, making a show of peering at all of the shelves, as if I were truly intrigued by their contents.

  “Hi, again!” came that same cheerful voice from directly behind me. I was uncharacteristically startled by her sudden appearance. It wasn’t often someone could sneak up behind me without my awareness. “I know I said I would stay back there, but then I thought you might need some help, and maybe you were too shy to ask, and I didn’t want you to leave here and think you got bad customer service, so I thought I would pop over and see if you had any questions or were looking for something in particular.”

  I stared at the woman as she was speaking, wondering when she was going to take a breath. She had made it through that entire speech in one lungful—impressive. Despite her tendency toward verbosity, she was quite striking. Anywhere besides New York City, she would have easily stood out in a crowd.

  Her hair was a bright, burnished red that most women achieved only from a bottle yet appeared to be natural on her. It shone like silk under the fluorescent lights, and she wore it loose and full to just below her shoulders. She was boyishly slim with an athletic grace and several inches shorter than me, but the four-inch bright green stilettos she was w
earing compensated for her lack of height. Her eyes matched the color of her shoes; however, what drew my attention was the tattoo she had centered on her forehead. It was made of curving lines that appeared to represent a flame and was the same shade as her hair. It was startling yet beautiful.

  I realized I was merely standing there staring at her. “Um, I like your tattoo.”

  “Thanks!” She smiled widely, showing perfect white teeth, framed by full lips painted an alluring red. “You have no idea how many comments I get on it. Most people who come in here tell me they love it, but every once in a while, I’ll get some stodgy old fart who tells me I ruined my beautiful face with it, and when I’m old and wrinkled, I’ll regret it. I don’t worry too much about that though. It’ll be a while before I get old enough for wrinkles.”

  “Oh … um … yeah, it’s—”

  “Oh, my, where are my manners? My name is Lilly Alfreda, and I own this shop. So, is there anything I can help you find?”

  I forced what I hoped looked like a friendly smile on my face. “Yes, I could use some help. My grandmother recently passed—”

  “Oh, no! I am so sorry. I would be devastated if I ever lost my grandma. She practically raised me. Were you close to her?”

  “Who? Oh, my grandmother. Well, she—”

  “What am I saying? Of course you were close to her. If you hadn’t been, you wouldn’t be so upset. I can see the grief all over your face. It causes premature aging, you know.”

  “What?” Had she just told me I looked old?

  “My grandma is an amazing lady. She is ancient, but so wise. Just the other day, I was asking her advice about this guy I met—”