Descendant

by Giles, Nichole

  At the edge of the parking lot, he picks me up and I kick him, fighting with all my strength. A few times my feet connect with body parts, and each time I hear a muffled grunt, I fight harder. I’ve been taught it’s never a mistake for a girl who’s being taken somewhere against her will to fight, but when Boone tosses me on the ground and subdues me with his body—I begin to wish I hadn’t.

  His arm is around my chest and his other hand is over my mouth, grinding my cheek against my teeth until I taste blood. His legs clamp around mine so I can’t move. I can’t even scream.

  Then the energy around us changes and I hear feet crashing through snow and underbrush. Something solid whooshes over us, propelling Boone away from me in a blur of movement. I sit up, preparing to jump and run, but hot air blows on my neck and something wet tickles my ear. Shrieking, I spring about three feet in the air and land on my rear with a thud.

  From the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of Kye and Boone, wrestling on the ground in a tangle of shrubs and tree limbs, but when I look straight, I find myself staring into the bright brown eyes of the white moose.

  His antlers spread at least five feet across, and his square head is lowered, prepared for battle. Never in my life have I been so close to a creature of this size. I should be frightened, but I’m not. I know he won’t hurt me. Instinct tells me to run—run, you idiot!—but I can’t make my feet move. Finn holds me trapped in his gaze, and I get the feeling he’s trying to communicate something I don’t understand.

  When the wrestling comes nearer, he backs into the trees. I leap into action, searching for a weapon I can use to help Kye, and settle on a large, broken tree branch. My intentions are good, but I hesitate too long and before I have a good grip, Boone tackles me. I’m under him again and he’s holding a knife to my throat.

  “Let her go, Boone.” Kye wheezes.

  A wolfish smile spreads across Boone’s face. “You see, honey, I didn’t even have to take you anywhere before lover-boy came running to save you.”

  “I said let her go.” Kye growls.

  Boone’s grip loosens, but he keeps his weapon in position. “You have something I want.” He pulls me off the ground and drags me backward—again. “And now I have something you want. I thought we’d work out a trade.”

  Kye’s eyes flash. “What? What could I have that you want badly enough to kidnap someone?”

  “Where is it?” Boone hisses.

  “Where is what?”

  “The Key! Where’s the Key?”

  Kye looks truly baffled. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about. A key? What kind of key?” Something rustles behind us.

  Rose’s voice chimes in, “I have the keys! Right here. I already said you could have them. Just take the Jeep, already!” From the corner of my eye, I see a flash of color—Jen’s lavender coat, the sleeves now scorched.

  While Boone’s distracted, Kye grabs the hand holding the knife, directing it at Boone’s torso while I roll away. More wrestling ensues, but as soon as I make it to the others, Kye lets go and hurries to put himself between Boone and me.

  Boone howls with rage and his eyes flash violet again. A blackish aura loaded with red darts settles around him. His fury is about to spill over and he’s still clutching the knife.

  “Kye,” I whisper. “We need to go. Please.” I grab a fistful of his coat and urge him to the parking lot.

  Boone points at me. “Who is she?”

  “Just a girl.” For the first time, I sense real fear in Kye. “No one who matters.”

  His words pierce deep, making me stumble. A memory—or vision—jumps into sharp relief.

  Fingers I can’t see press Gram’s ring—my ring—into a stone door, and as they do, it opens. The walls tremble and the floor cracks open.

  I shake off the vision and clutch Kye’s coat, trying to re-orient myself.

  “Oh, she’s someone,” Boone says. “And you can bet I’ll find out who by the end of the day. This is not over.”

  Something large crashes through the trees with such power and speed that I scream involuntarily, like a wimpy girl. Which I’m not. Usually. Finn charges at Boone, hurtling past us so close that his snowy pelt brushes the sleeve of my coat.

  Boone plows into the forest, screaming like a girl himself. His screams make me feel better about my own.

  Kye is shaking when he pulls me into his arms. “You okay?”

  I nod, unable to speak.

  “You’re not okay. Of course you’re not.” He presses a kiss to my head. “I’m sorry.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it was stupid of me to let you out of my sight long enough for him to get to you.”

  “Abby.” Rose’s voice is hoarse. “We need to talk.”

  “Ya think?” I lead the way to the Jeep. “What was that fire all about?”

  Rose hits the remote start button again. “What was any of it about?”

  “Haven’t I told you never to talk to strangers?” Kye drapes his arm across Rose’s shoulders. “You know how trouble always finds you.”

  She grins. How could she not? Cousin or not, Kye’s smile is warm enough to melt the coldest heart. “And, yet,” she says, “I’m still alive and thriving.”

  Kye’s face sobers. “Well, today you’re lucky. Really, Rose, you have to be more careful.”

  Jen sputters. It’s the first sound she’s made in fifteen minutes. “We’re in the middle of a national park. We came in a group of three. What else should we have done?”

  He cocks his head. “Duh. You should have brought me.”

  We all burst out laughing and book it across the parking lot to the Jeep as the snow starts coming down hard. Kye holds the seat forward while I climb in the back. When he’s seated next to me, I glance out the window, noticing there are still no other cars.

  “How did you get here, anyway?”

  He bites his lip, leaning closer. “Didn’t you meet Finn? He’s my moose.”

  I nod. Of course. It would have to be a white moose.

  FOURTEEN

  Healing the Injured

  By the time we park at the Inn, snow is falling in sheets of white, making me glad we returned when we did. As we run for the building, I’m hit by the weight of something else in the air. Worry. Panic. Fear.

  A fire burns in the fireplace, but there are no other lights on in the building. The power must be out. Kids crowd in a half-circle near the bottom of the stairs, and the collective mood isn’t good.

  One of the teachers holds a cell phone to his ear, mumbling under his breath, “Please connect. Please connect.” My stomach clenches at the sight of a student lying on the floor, immobile. His breathing is shallow, strained. Mr. Akers leans over him, murmuring.

  I try to inch forward, but a chaperone holds me back. “You need to stay out of the way until we can get an ambulance here.” As he says this, Mr. Akers moves and I get a better look at the injured person. “Eric!” I push past the restraining arm and drop to my knees beside Mr. Akers, a sick feeling welling inside me. “What happened to him?”

  “He fell over the railing from the third floor.” Mr. Akers looks anxious. “The phone lines aren’t working and no one has been able to get cell service this morning. At this point, we don’t even know how seriously he’s hurt, but he definitely needs help.” Mr. Akers holds my gaze, sending me a silent question.

  He wants my help. My Healing help. I glance down at Eric and know I should, I could help him. Isn’t this what I’ve always wanted? To be allowed to help my friends? To not keep my Gifts a secret anymore?

  I nod my acquiescence, though I’m nervous. What if I can’t do it? Akers instructs the chaperones to escort the rest of the kids to their rooms, “so they’ll be out of the way when medical assistance arrives.” But really, he’s just getting rid of them. Once they’re gone, I run my hands through Eric’s energy field. My palms hover above his clothes while I ask his energy to tell me what’s wrong.

  Energy ripples as I
pass over an injured rib on one side, then again over another. Pressure in a lung, bruises on a kidney. My hand trembles as I pass it over Eric’s face, distracted by a memory of Gram lying on the floor dying. I pause to swallow a lump in my throat and am grateful when Kye squeezes my arm and whispers, “Don’t give up, Abby. Eric needs you.”

  With a steadying breath, I check Eric’s head again and sigh in relief when I discover his concussion is mild, something I might be able to handle. “I’m going to try to help you,” I say. “In a few minutes, you’ll feel much better.” I hope.

  Eric’s eyelids flutter and he lets out a moan.

  “Shh. Eric, it’s me, Abby. Try not to move too much.”

  “Abby?” He tries to smile, but it turns into a grimace. “I knew you’d come for the party. You love me already.”

  I wish I could laugh, but I’m concentrating. “Don’t count your money yet.”

  When I glance up, Kye is scowling at Eric. Shaking my head, I give him a list of kitchen herbs to look for and tell him where to find my Healing crystals, then turn to Mr. Akers. “Can we move him somewhere more ... private?”

  Akers hesitates. “Are you sure that’s wise? I wouldn’t want to hurt him more—”

  “His back and neck are fine. We need to be careful of the ribs on his right side—at least two of them are cracked and maybe putting pressure on his lung. He has a concussion, but it isn’t too bad, considering the distance he fell.” I brace my hands on the floor. “I prefer not to do this in the lobby.”

  “If his ribs are broken, moving him could be painful. What if I can promise no one will see?”

  I open my mouth to object and decide it doesn’t matter. “Fine. I’ll treat him on the floor.”

  Akers rests a steady hand on my shoulder and lowers his voice. “Are you sure you can handle this?”

  Doubt dances in my stomach, but I brush it away. “I think so.” Then with more confidence, “I have to try.”

  I kneel, stroking Eric’s cool cheek with my fingertips. His eyes flutter again. “Abby?”

  “Yeah?” I unclasp the chain around my neck and set the crystal between his broken ribs.

  “I think ...” he coughs, wincing in pain. “I might not be able to dance tonight.”

  “Probably not.” His raspy breathing concerns me, so I focus on his ribs first. “Shh. Don’t talk.” I spin his chakra, calling the broken energy away from him. Kye approaches and sits next to me on the wooden floor, holding an ice bucket full of dried kitchen herbs and teas.

  I hold out my hand, trying to stay focused on Eric. Kye drops the crystals in my palm.

  “Thanks.”

  “Anytime.” He slides a possessive hand across the small of my back and my heart soars.

  Realizing I’m distracted, I swallow the metallic taste in my throat, focus again, and place another crystal over Eric’s ribs, two more over his lungs, and one on his forehead. The thyme and comfrey Kye has brought me are dried, which means they have to be steeped into teas or packed as a poultice, but there is a fresh sprig of wormwood leaves.

  I crush a leaf between my fingertips, roll it into a ball, and place it under Eric’s tongue to help with pain. “Can you get me some hot water, and either cheesecloth or gauze?” Kye jogs back to the kitchen.

  Eric opens his eyes and moves his limbs like he wants to get up. “What are you doing?”

  “Hold still. You can’t move yet.” I replace the crystals where I want them. “Close your eyes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I said so,” I snap. Then more gently, “I’m trying to help you. Please, just stay still and close your eyes.”

  I move my hands over him again, this time attempting to spin two chakras—one with each hand, both clockwise to speed the energy—and sing the Healing tones. The crystals lift above his chest and start to turn faster and faster, until Eric’s energy forms a ball of bright, greenish light. I raise my hands to the sky and call the energy into myself. The crystals continue to hover over Eric, but the light moves into me, hovers above the top of my head, and sends an uncanny chill down my back. I sing louder and my heart pounds in anticipation of the pain I’m about to feel.

  The energy trickles into me like a thin column of ice and brings with it Eric’s agony. My head throbs, and breathing gets difficult as the pain travels to my lungs and ribs. I keep singing and continue moving my hands in the clockwise motion that keeps the energy flowing, and all the while I’m shaking with unexpected cold. Something doesn’t feel right.

  Focus. Focus. Focus. I try so hard to focus, but the room swirls with milky fog that feels like frost. When the throb in my head becomes unbearable and my muscles can’t handle any more, my arms drop. I barely catch myself from tipping sideways onto the floor. Someone speaks, but I can’t hear what is said over the wind in my ears. I’m still trying to sing, but my voice cracks and then stops working, my throat frozen. I rasp in a mouthful of frigid air, but it doesn’t move into my lungs. Again and again I try, until I can no longer stay upright.

  Warm, strong arms cradle me and I’m floating off the floor in a cloud of pain. My head lolls to the side and rests on something solid. I hear a steady rhythm—a heartbeat. Breathing takes so much effort. I force my eyes open but can only see Kye’s outline. The lights are too bright. “Did it work?” I rasp. “Did I do it?”

  “I don’t know.” He squeezes me gently. “Are you okay?”

  I close my eyes and try to relax against him. “My head hurts. And I’m so tired. I just need to sleep for a while.”

  “Okay.” His voice is strained. “Okay.”

  I float in and out of consciousness, aware only that I’m buried in blankets and my whole body aches. Every so often a voice breaks through the nothingness, but comprehending words requires too much energy.

  My dreams are filled with bits and pieces of things and non-things. Scary, gray-coated men trashing my bedroom at home. Faeries fluttering in the forest, cooking wild vegetables on fire that hovers above the ground. A white moose that speaks English and charges bad guys. Little round men with yellow eyes rolling down Las Vegas Boulevard ... and Kye. Dancing with Kye at a faery party. Kissing Kye. Kye’s smile. Only, in my dreams, Kye has a different name and I can’t remember it, even though I think I should.

  Light flickers on the other side of my closed eyelids and I hear a voice. I roll over and pain shoots through my side. Someone screams, loud. Doesn’t she know how bad my head hurts? I mumble for someone to tell her to shut up, and sink into oblivion once more.

  Rhys, the queen’s bodyguard, brings a young man dressed in royal clothing to meet Isleen outside her chambers. “There you are, my darling.” Isleen takes Theron’s chin in her hand and draws him down to her level so she can kiss his cheek.

  Theron returns the kiss. “Good evening, Mother. I trust you’re enjoying my party.”

  “As is the entire kingdom, dear boy. And each one asks after the newlywed couple.”

  A pink tinge colors Theron’s cheeks. “I am sorry, Mother. We do not mean to be rude. Raina and I simply wish for time alone.”

  Rhys chuckles.

  Isleen sends Rhys a demure look. “Honestly, son, I do understand. It was not so long ago that I—”

  A shrill scream erupts from the ballroom, soon joined by a cacophony of other screams and the clashing and clanging of swords.

  Rhys grabs the queen around the waist and holds her tightly to him. “Theron!”

  Theron sprints to the great hall, with Rhys and Isleen close behind. The scene that unfolds before them nearly brings Theron to his knees in anguish. A group of men dressed in dark hoods has attacked the party and a large number of Dryden’s subjects lie sprawled across the ballroom floor, injured—and worse.

  Isleen gapes in horror. Damon’s throne is empty, the king nowhere in sight. The powers of protection, bestowed upon Theron by the goddesses Morrigana, glow in his eyes as he clasps hands with Rhys. “By the power of Macha, goddess of war, you will protect my mother and kee
p her safe above all other things. Swear it.”

  Rhys nods, grasping Theron’s hand tightly. “I swear protection to the queen until peace and order is restored. My life and hers are joined from this moment.” Their clasped hands glow.

  “The goddesses will hold you to this bond.” Theron releases his friend’s hand. “If Tynan is behind this, my mother’s life is in danger. You must flee.”

  Isleen grips her son’s arm before he can rush into the melee. “What of you and Raina? What of Damon? Our people are injured. I must help Heal them!”

  Theron shakes his head. “It is too risky, Mother. Go! For the sake of our people, you must live.” He shakes out of her grasp and rushes forward.

  “Theron.” Rhys meets him at the door. “Find Sergeant Liam. Swear him into the protection of Raina. When Tynan doesn’t find Isleen in the castle, he will attempt to take Raina in her stead. He is looking for a Healer.”

  Theron nods, wrapping an arm around the man who has been as a father to him. “Live well, until we meet again.”

  Rhys returns the embrace. “And you.”

  The bright winter sunshine soaks through my eyelids. I turn my head slowly, testing the ache. Finding the pain bearable, I open my eyes. The curtain over the sliding glass door is pulled back, revealing a foot of fresh snow on my tiny wooden deck. Crystals of all colors and shapes hang from the doorframe and rest on the windowsill.

  Erda dozes on the hardwood floor in a pool of sunshine, her favorite tennis ball between her front paws.

  I take a deep breath. It doesn’t hurt too badly, so I try again and smile when my lungs fill with herb-scented air. Several potted plants adorn my desk, along with another handful of multi-colored crystals. My heart warms at Mom’s attempt at Healing. I shift and try to sit up.