Ula (Born of Shadows Book 1)

by J. R. Erickson

  Abby counted seven people seated, including the gaunt man who had led them in. He took a seat close to the silver-haired woman and stared at them suspiciously. The woman had the same ageless beauty as Audrey Hepburn. Her gray eyes sparkled in the firelight and she clasped her slender hands together as she studied them, her face kind, but interested.

  Abby wanted to observe the rest of the group, but feared their probing eyes, so stared into her lap instead, which comforted her.

  "I'm Sebastian. This is Abby," Sebastian told them bravely, sitting up straighter as he did so. His voice was mingled with curiosity, but no fear. He seemed prepared for the group of strangers.

  "Welcome, Sebastian, and welcome, Abby,” the silver haired woman began. “We are very excited and quite curious to have you here. Shall I begin with introductions?" They did not speak, so she continued. “I am Elda, and your guide here is Faustine.” She pointed to their skinny escort, who grumbled in response. “Across from you, there, is Helena, and then Max, Lydie, and Dafne.” Her finger pointed lightly at each face as she traveled around the room, and Abby took a moment to stare. Lydie looked, by far, the youngest, not much older than twelve or thirteen, her eyes bright with interest. “So, please, do tell us how you came to find our rather secluded location? I dare say that you found us." Elda's eyes were trained carefully on Abby, as were the others.

  Abby cleared her throat, but Sebastian spoke first.

  “No, I brought her.” Each pair of eyes turned to him quickly, suspicion alighting on some of their faces.

  “How is that possible?” the woman called Dafne shrilled, igniting the room in tension.

  She was matchstick thin, except where the tiny red bulb would lie was a long plait of purple black hair, so dark it seemed invisible, as if it sucked the light from the room and ate it. Her face, nose and chin were pointed and pale, which should have made her ugly, but somehow worked. She was a dazzling ice queen - only desirable from the corner of your eye. Abby guessed her age around twenty-five, but the severity of her expression made her appear older. Although Dafne's words were directed at Sebastian, Abby felt them herself, like steel wool rubbed over skin. She leaned back in her seat and shot Sebastian a warning glance. She didn’t want to enrage a room of strangers. Sebastian met their gazes, not flinching at Dafne, who glared at him.

  "What she means, Sebastian," Elda continued slowly, ignoring Dafne's hardened gaze, "is that this is a very special place, and we were not under the impression that you possessed those faculties.”

  “I don’t,” he told them, slightly defeated. “My sister did.”

  Dafne leaned toward Helena and whispered something angrily, but no one spoke.

  “Your sister?” Max asked, sliding to the edge of his chair. Max was grandfatherly with a lined puddly face that reminded Abby of a shar-pei. His hair was short but thick, black and silver making up equal parts.

  “Yes, Claire.” Sebastian’s face looked hopeful as if he expected them to register her name, but no dawning appeared on their faces.

  “She was like you,” he gestured to their group, and fury flashed across Dafne's face.

  “Like us?” She acted as if he’d called them a derogatory name, and Helena turned red, embarrassed by her outburst.

  “I don’t mean it as an insult. She was special, she had powers,” Sebastian quickly corrected.

  Elda nodded, but Dafne continued to look furious.

  Abby shifted uncomfortably. She wanted to defend Sebastian, but felt too lost to contribute - lost, tired, overwhelmed and scared.

  The door to the room swung open, bringing with it a gust of cool air and sending flickers through hundreds of candles adorning the walls. The man that followed was soaking wet, and his bare feet left a trail of water in the thick rug beneath him.

  Abby stared at him - mouth agape. Sebastian stiffened beside her. It was the man from the forest, the one who saved them.

  “Have I missed the party?” He laughed, striding across the room to Lydie and shaking his hair, like a wet dog, in her face.

  He wore the same clothing - a short sleeved white t-shirt of nylon fabric and loose fitting linen pants. He did not carry his bow, but the leather strap and his arrows still hung from his back.

  Lydie squealed and batted at him as the water fell onto her face and head.

  He stopped shaking, stood and looked at Abby and Sebastian.

  “If you’d hung around a bit longer, I would have brought you here myself. Saved you some trouble.”

  Dafne shot him a look of angry surprise, and he shrugged casually.

  He smiled at Abby, and small lines creased his full mouth. He was boyish looking, but not a boy, a man.

  Abby blushed beneath the pierce of his green eyes as they sparkled in the light of the candles. She glanced at Sebastian who stared indignantly at their savior, his lips a line of contempt.

  “Oliver, you’ve met our guests, then?” Elda asked, but did not sound surprised.

  He grinned, unstrapped his arrows and let them fall to the floor, pulling a stool from Lydie’s feet and straddling it. She protested, but giggled and let him take it.

  “Yes, though I dare say not under the most happy of circumstances. Our friends were in the clutches of Tobias and Vesta and a new one, I didn’t catch his name.”

  “Tane,” Sebastian answered, continuing to stare at Oliver, sizing him up.

  Oliver nodded dismissively.

  “He’s not a Vepar, just a wanna-be right now.”

  “And Tobias - did you get him?” Sebastian demanded, fidgeting in his seat.

  “What business is it of yours?” Dafne snapped, her face coloring when Elda frowned at her.

  Oliver cast Abby a mischievous smile and continued. “I did not kill him. The Vepars have a new lair that I have not been able to track. Twice now, he has escaped me.”

  “Drat,” Helena chimed in, slapping her palm angrily on her leg. Like Elda, she had a strange beauty and a calming quality, though she was younger and reminded Abby of her Aunt Sydney. Her long auburn hair was pushed entirely over one shoulder and her brown eyes were soft and creamy, like puppy eyes. She blinked them, and Abby could see light blond lashes against her golden skin. Unlike Elda, who wore a simple floor length black dress, Helena's attire set her apart from the group. She wore a caramel colored tunic that fell mid-thigh over black leggings. Her wrists were nearly covered in bangles of gold and silver and they jangled when she moved.

  “Yeah, pretty nasty beasts, those two,” Oliver continued, wringing his shirt out onto the floor. “I do apologize for my late arrival,” he said to Abby. “I would have liked to reach you sooner.”

  “How did you find us?” she asked.

  “Luck, really,” Oliver answered. “I’ve been visiting the area on and off. We sensed a death there, and Faustine suspected that it was a witch who died.”

  He paused and cast a questioning gaze at Elda, who nodded for him to continue.

  “But Vepars are good at covering their tracks and erasing any signs of the death and of the witch.”

  Abby listened, bothered by the word 'witch.' Did he mean that literally?

  “They usually stay near a ritual scene for several days to absorb any remaining power, and they picked up your scent and started to hunt you. I found you by chance. I sensed something in the woods the last time I visited and decided to return to the spot, and there you were.”

  “That’s it?” Sebastian asked incredulously. “You sensed something there?”

  “And what did you do?” Dafne asked coldly, knowing how to hit Sebastian where it hurt. “Were you planning to save her yourself?”

  Sebastian exploded from his chair and pointed a finger towards Dafne, his hand shaking visibly.

  “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Elda stood, interrupting. “We are not enemies here. We are friends. Sebastian, please, take a seat.”

  He fell back into his chair, but scowled at Dafne. Oliver looked amused, and Abby saw
him gently kick Lydie’s chair; she smiled in return.

  "I believe that we are better served by privacy now," Elda continued, addressing the group, and Abby wasn’t sure if she meant her and Sebastian or the others.

  Max stood and coaxed everyone from their chairs, carefully avoiding eye contact with Sebastian, who was clearly miserable. Abby started to stand, and Max gestured her back down with a wave of his hand. Dafne looked mutinous and stalled, smoothing her bony hands along her heather gray slacks. Faustine sought her eyes and nodded toward the door, a silent demand.

  The young one, Lydie, walked to where Abby stood and stopped before her.

  “You can't learn to swim without getting in the water." She spoke very matter-of-factly and then strode to the door, her short curls bouncing and her pale, pink pedal pushers making her appear even younger from the back. She shot a final, knowing, stare back at Abby's puzzled face and skipped from the room.

  "She speaks almost entirely in clichés," Oliver told her, smiling at her confused expression. “It’s endearing about two percent of the time.”

  Sebastian stared after him as he walked from the room, following behind Dafne, Helena close at his heels.

  When everyone was gone, Elda returned. She stopped at a shelf of books and pressed a small iron eagle bookend. The books disappeared on a rotating counter, and a small platter with several ceramic pots and black mugs swung into the room.

  Abby and Sebastian stared, surprised by the secret compartment.

  "Yes, our library comes fully equipped," Elda laughed. “Though, still, I am not sure why we have to hide the tea.”

  Sebastian smiled, and Abby sank back into her chair, relieved to see his sense of humor returning.

  "Tea? Or coffee, perhaps?" Elda placed two mugs on a silver tray.

  "Tea, please," Abby told her, the first twinges of sleepiness stirring in her mind. Sebastian asked for coffee, and Elda busied herself preparing, not only drinks, but also small sandwiches and cookies.

  Abby sipped her tea. The scalding fluid added to the heat of the room and she blinked away the sleepiness creeping in. She should have gone with coffee. The tea, some mix of chamomile and other herbs, added to her tiredness. She nibbled a molasses cookie and sat up straight, watching as Elda pulled a chair closer to the fireplace.

  "Are you warm enough?" the older woman asked them, settling into her chair.

  "Mmm, yes, fine," Abby murmured.

  “More than enough,” Sebastian nodded. He scooted his chair away from the fire and sat munching a sandwich hungrily. “I am starving.”

  “Well, eat up, those things appear around here like magic.” She winked at Sebastian as he grabbed another sandwich and several cookies from the tray.

  Abby stared at the room lazily, taking in the soft, luxurious décor. Thick velvet drapes shielded the windows and fell onto tasseled oriental rugs. Thousands of books lined the shelves, many with broad leather bindings, their titles engraved and glinting in the firelight. Dozens of chairs, each one different, were scattered in a loose semi-circle facing the enormous stone fireplace.

  "Where shall we begin?” Elda asked gently, moving her chair so that she faced Sebastian and Abby directly. “With you, Sebastian? I think you may be able to shed light for both Abby and myself."

  He nodded, looking more alert as the coffee set in. He opened his backpack and pulled Claire's journal out, laying it on his lap.

  "This belonged to my sister, Claire. She started writing in it when she was seventeen, at the beginning of the change. She’d never been a diary keeper, and I remember thinking it strange, but…”

  He traced his fingers along the worn pages and smiled, remembering.

  Abby sat up taller in her chair, listening.

  "Something happened to your parents?" Elda asked knowingly.

  He nodded, staring at the fire.

  "They were killed in a car accident when I was eighteen and Claire was fourteen. I became her legal guardian." Sebastian's voice thickened. “We received an inheritance, a pretty large one, and after I graduated from high school, we sold the house and moved into an apartment and things were good. We were happy. Claire gave me a purpose and I never resented that. During her junior year in high school, just after her seventeenth birthday, I saw the journal for the first time. She acted very weird about it, protective. I thought maybe she was dealing with it finally, ya know, our parents' deaths."

  Abby tried to pay attention but she had begun to feel strange, sort of dizzy and euphoric, as if she'd had too much to drink.

  "Then I noticed this peculiar woman who showed up in the most random places,” he continued. "At the grocery store or when I'd pick up Claire at school. She was… I don't know, astonishing, I guess. She had long black hair down past her butt and bright green eyes like cats' eyes. And, then, one day I came home from work and she was at our apartment, just sitting in the living room with Claire, talking crazily like they were old friends.”

  "Adora," Elda whispered.

  "Yes, yes, Adora. You know her?”

  “I do, and I will tell you about her later. Right now, I want to hear about you.”

  Sebastian nodded and continued, taking another sip from his coffee. The cup clattered as he returned it to the saucer.

  “They began spending so much time together that it sort of bothered me. I was jealous, maybe, it had been just Claire and I for years. Anyway, we fought about it and she completely broke down. She told me everything.” He trailed off, his eyes wandering towards Abby and then the floor.

  She fought to pay attention, but her brain felt like a sticky puddle in the basement of her skull. Were they talking about her? No, Claire, they were talking about Claire. She looked at the half filled cup of tea, horror struck, as the room began to swim around her. Had this woman poisoned her? She looked at Elda, whose gracious face regarded her with concern.

  "Abby, are you okay?" Elda asked, her brow furrowed.

  Sebastian stood abruptly, kneeling in front of her.

  "Abby?" Worry paled his face.

  "I'm just so tired," she whispered, as the heat of the fire slowly traveled up her legs and into her back. "Did you poison me?" she croaked, looking at Elda.

  “Oh, dear, no,” Elda laughed, looking embarrassed. She rose from her chair and moved toward Abby. “No, no, it’s just chamomile and Valerian root and some other herbs. It was meant to calm you, not put you to bed, honey. It's our home, I would imagine." Elda waved her slender fingers at the room. "It affects … some people, differently."

  “Not to mention the night we had,” Sebastian added, rubbing a hand on his swollen wrists where the ropes had cut in.

  “I’ll get something for that,” Elda told him.

  She held her hands out to Abby, who stood shakily, leaning on Sebastian for support.

  "I will call Oliver to show her to her room. It’s the energy here, for new witches…" Elda trailed off and moved across the room, pressing a button near the doorway.

  Abby stared at her, tempted to ask what exactly she meant by 'new witches,' but too exhausted to go there.

  "She's right, Abby, I think it's just shock and exhaustion." He looked tired as well, but she knew that he wanted to continue his conversation with Elda.

  Abby trusted that he was right, and, strangely enough, she trusted Elda. She needed to rest, to allow the demons of the day to leave, at least for a bit. She would welcome sleep.

  Oliver entered the room, and Sebastian bristled.

  “I can take her,” Sebastian said quickly to Elda. “Just tell me where.”

  “Whoa, there, friend,” Oliver chimed, raising a hand to calm Sebastian. “It’s a short walk and I already know the way.”

  Oliver took Abby’s hand in his own and began to lead her from the room. She cast a fleeting smile at Sebastian, who looked agitated, but Elda was already appeasing him with more coffee and cookies.

  "I think bed sounds about right,” Oliver said happily, closing the door behind him. “You have had one ve
ry long night.”

  Abby nodded and murmured, “Yes,” trying not to trip over her sluggish feet.

  “I can carry you, if you’d like,” Oliver told her, squeezing her hand.

  “Oh, no,” she said, though it sounded easier than carrying herself.

  He talked amicably as they traipsed down a long hallway lit with golden candelabras. A thick gold rug lay before them; something like the lavish red carpets she’d seen on Hollywood awards shows. His golden hair sparkled in the flickering light, and he smelled sweet like cinnamon. If exhaustion had not been robbing her of logic, she might have questioned the enchanted atmosphere, but instead she struggled simply to stay upright as he led her up a tight spiral staircase. He pushed through a massive honey colored door into a room dimly lit with candles. She stumbled blindly to the bed and collapsed onto it, remotely aware that he’d pulled a heavy comforter up to her neck and made a hasty exit.

  * * * *

  Sebastian chewed another cookie grumpily and forced himself not to act like a jerk in front of Elda. He should have been happy that Oliver saved them and happier still that he was part of the coven, but he wasn’t. For one thing, he didn’t like the way Oliver looked at Abby, like she was available. He also found him arrogant and too attractive. Why should he be so attractive?

  “Don’t worry, Sebastian. Oliver is a wonderful witch. He wishes you no harm,” Elda said, shifting her eyes to his.

  Her voice was very soothing, and he tried to relax into the sound. He was tempted to question her about Oliver and the coven. He wanted to hear that Oliver was a new witch and not a very powerful one. He wanted to glean some tidbit of flaw that would make their rescuer slightly less heroic. He took another drink of coffee and returned to their conversation.

  “Anyway,” he started, forgetting about Oliver momentarily. “Claire told me that she was a witch and that Adora was her witch guide or something like that.”

  “Yes, Adora is a keeper of a Book of Shadows and thus a guide or helper for new witches.”

  “Adora started to teach her to use her power. She was an air element.”

  “I’m not surprised,” Elda said. “I sense air in you.”