Ula (Born of Shadows Book 1)

by J. R. Erickson

  In a single movement, she pulled the rock from her pants and seized a wad of his stringy hair. She did not hesitate, even as Tony tried to buck away, her good hand moved swiftly, slicing across the water and forcing the blunt stone sword up and into his stomach. It caught in the thick sinewy threads of bone and muscle encased there, but she had aimed with precision and missed the hard steel-like grate that protected the evil within. Black blood poured out, filling the water like spilled ink, but she shoved harder, further and felt the moment that she reached the pouch deep inside of him. It burst like a ripe grape and howled as if it had a life of its own. Tony's face twisted in hate and then agony and then nothing. His eyes shrank like pitted prunes and his lips turned in, shriveling into the black hole of his mouth. Abby turned her face away, sickened and fighting to see through the blackness that had swarmed out of him.

  Dafne's head was beneath the water, and when Abby saw her, she remembered Sydney, her dead, bloated face. Time was running short. Soon the others would reach the room, or worse yet, Dafne would drown. Abby reached her, and rather than grabbing Dafne's body, she grabbed the thick black chains that held her. With a single fierce tug she ripped them from the wall. Dafne floated lazily towards her. Abby grasped her tight around the waist and kicked hard against the floor, pushing herself back towards the open doorway. The hallway had flooded, Abby waded through waist high water, some of her energy lost as she dragged Dafne away from the room of swirling black blood.

  In the hallway ahead, Vepars yelled. She saw one emerge from the room where she'd been held captive. A long, stone stairway appeared on her left and she took it, running despite the chains that still hung from her legs and Dafne's weight in her arms. The stairs were slippery and Abby fell once, feeling a shot of pain in her elbow as it struck the step above her. The Vepar chasing her screamed words that she did not understand or perhaps did not want to understand. The ball of blue energy had disappeared, and Abby knew that she now worked on sheer willpower. Up and up she went, ignoring other tunnels and hallways, praying that she'd break the surface soon, searching for any sign that daylight lay ahead. The Vepar behind her, the pixie-ish girl Abby had seen with Tane, was gaining on her. The loud slaps of her feet echoed loudly in Abby's ears and sounded much faster than her own steps that dragged with each lift.

  Suddenly she felt a force, a sort of sixth sense, pull her to a tunnel on her left. Afraid that she might be running right into the Vepars' arms, but too exhausted to continue up, she took it. It twisted endlessly, but Abby did not slow, even when her feet left the rocky ground and she was airborne, she still kicked as if running on the air. A second of disorientation grasped her as she flailed in the wide, open sky. She had let go of Dafne, and they were both falling fast. And then she felt the rush of the waterfall and spotted the black ravine below, before plunging in feet first.

  Chapter 31

  A gentle slap against her cheek brought Abby’s world back. She struck out, narrowly missing Dafne's jaw, her face leaning worriedly over Abby's own.

  "It's okay, it's just me," Dafne said, her voice strangely apologetic.

  Abby sat up and looked around. They were on a patch of rocky beach that hugged the foaming river. Tiny gray pebbles marred the white sand. Tall, rocky cliffs hugged the beach on all sides; they sat in the small canyon that it created. She searched frantically for the waterfall, but it was nowhere in sight.

  "Don't worry, we drifted quite a ways, I think." Dafne's own eyes wandered along the cliffs and then came to rest on Abby's. She looked as if she was struggling to say something, and Abby had a pretty good idea what it was.

  "Thank you, you saved me," Dafne finally blurted.

  Abby nodded, but did not speak, the memories of their near death were too raw to touch, so she shrugged instead. Her head felt water logged, no, her whole body did, bloated times a million. She imagined if she pinched her skin, river water would trickle out.

  “Are we safe here?” she asked suddenly, her eyes darting to the cliffs overhead.

  “I think so,” Dafne murmured, wincing as a breeze lit across the wounds on her arms and legs. The shackles had dug deep red welts into her skin that had not yet healed. “I did an invisibility incantation, but I don’t have any tools, so…”

  “So, will it work?” Abby asked, again searching the cliffs, the sky and the river for signs of trouble.

  “So far, so good,” Dafne said feebly.

  "How do we get out of here?" Abby asked finally, noticing for the first time that her shackles were gone as well.

  "I removed them," Dafne told her. "And my own." Dafne held out her wrists, and Abby grimaced at the puckered flesh. "Faustine will be here soon."

  "Faustine?" Abby asked in disbelief. How could he possibly find them?

  "He sent me. When we were both captured, he came for us," Dafne explained. "Telepathy, remember?" She pointed at her head. "Anyway, his connection with me is much stronger than yours, and while I was unconscious he lost us, but when I came to in the river, he reconnected. He's close by now, I can feel him."

  Abby nodded and struggled to her feet, feeling weak and nauseated. She had almost thought that the nearby water would give her another surge of strength, but she felt only drained and exhausted. She tottered and nearly fell, but steadied her legs wide apart for balance.

  "It happens sometimes," Dafne told her. "The dizziness, when you've really drawn on your energy, it just totally wipes you out."

  "I'm starving," Abby said, listening to the angry rumble that stirred in her stomach.

  "Yeah, me too." Dafne gingerly touched the pink spot on her scalp where Tony had ripped out her hair. "I wish I healed as fast as you."

  Abby gave her a small smile and walked down to the water, staring at her disheveled appearance in the surface. Her hair had dried in what her mother would have called a rat's nest and stuck mostly to the right side of her head. Black streaks that she knew were Tony's blood stained her t-shirt.

  "You killed him," Dafne breathed, noticing that Abby was studying the blood on her shirt. Abby heard a mix of awe, envy and maybe even annoyance in her voice.

  "Yeah," she said gravely.

  "How did you know…"

  But Dafne did not finish, because on the cliff directly in front of them, Faustine had appeared. He moved down the cliff face easily, his heavy boots knocking hunks of stone and dirt into the river. He was dressed for hiking in green windbreaker pants and a gray Capilene shirt. His face was lined with worry, but he forced a polite smile and offered a curt nod before striding across the beach toward them.

  * * * *

  Abby, Dafne and Faustine received a warm, but concerned welcome on their return to the castle. Sebastian kissed her on the head, but he seemed anxious. They were all bubbling with questions, but none would be answered that day. Instead, Abby slipped silently to her room, barely settling on the bed before sleep stole her from their curious faces.

  Sebastian, desperate for reassurance that Abby was - in fact - okay, settled in a chair beside her, refusing to leave until she woke. Unfortunately, Abby slept for nearly fourteen hours, unaware that every gasp and toss evoked in Sebastian the bitter memories of his sister's death and the constant fear that he would lose Abby as well. When she finally came to, in the early morning hours, Sebastian, exhausted, had drifted off as well. Abby watched his peaceful face, unshaven and grisly, the flutter of his lower lip as he snored. He lay cockeyed on the edge of her bed, his right leg dangling over the side. His red Lake Superior t-shirt looked rumpled.

  Abby crept from the bed into the bathroom, scowling at the face peering out from the mirror. Her skin looked sallow, and every surface of her body was coated with blood, dirt or grime. She turned the faucet on the claw footed tub, allowing the water to reach near scalding level, and slipped out of the nightshirt that she did not remember putting on.

  As she slid into the water, she allowed her brain to retrieve the memories of the previous few days. Her hands shook as she meticulously scrubbed black
smears off her forearms and palms. She had killed Tony, had murdered him. Or perhaps murder was the wrong word. But was self-defense the right one?

  She did not know and might have felt guilty, but she could not. Her new mind would not allow the shame that had so closely followed the Abby of her previous life. She was a witch now, and he was an enemy. He intended to kill Dafne, and surely he intended to kill her if given the chance.

  When Faustine had first begun to lead them back to the castle, “back home,” as he referred to it, Abby had fought him. “My parents!” she'd shrieked. “They might still be inside, the Vepars have them.”

  That was when she had learned the truth. Vesta did not have her parents, no one had her parents. Faustine had already placed a protective barrier around their house after he had learned of Sydney's death. The barrier, according to Faustine, prevented the Vepars from getting closer than the sidewalk and cloaked them when they left the house. If they found a way to reach her parents, he would physically feel their passing and know to act. Devin had only fabricated the story to lure Abby to the Lourdes, who frequently tormented lost souls or witches trapped in relics. The Lourdes was known for using the dead to lure witches and other victims to her lair.

  Abby had cried then, and though Faustine had attempted to soothe her, his naturally cold demeanor had fallen flat. He explained the horrible existence for Devin, a witch residing in what he called the middle world. A place of shadows, of existence without life. He told her not to blame Devin, because, despite her wrong actions, her motives had not been all bad. Abby had wanted to believe that, to seek out some good in Devin, but she felt nothing except a cold anger towards her.

  Abby knew that Faustine was trying to console her for what had happened. He did not want Abby to fear the new world that she had entered.

  Faustine talked throughout their trip back to the castle. For the first time, Abby had not cared to hear the information offered so freely. Abby and Dafne had nearly died. Abby had killed, Abby was now a killer.

  She dunked her head beneath the hot water, trying to wash away that thought, but it stayed. A tiny tap sounded on the bathroom door.

  "Abby?" Sebastian murmured, his voice sounding groggy.

  "Yep, I'm here, Sebastian. I'll be right out."

  * * * *

  Elda sat in a tall walnut chair, her arms resting easily in her lap. She smiled when Abby walked into the library, but did not speak until she had found a seat. Abby chose one nearest the fire, a thick, rounded chair covered in blush chenille fabric with small gold tassels brushing the floor.

  "So," Elda began, lifting a finger to her chin and studying Abby across the room.

  Abby maintained eye contact, though it hurt to do so. Guilt gnawed at her insides, creating a constant barrier to any feelings of euphoria that the whole ordeal was over. She felt that she had let everyone down, and though no one had said as much, how could it not be true? Dafne had nearly died. Worse, what if they had tortured secrets of the castle out of her? What if, in a state of delirium and pain, she had led them all back to the Coven of Ula?

  "Abby, I know that you are battling yourself right now," Elda murmured, her long coppery dress shimmering in the firelight. "But those thoughts that you're having come from within, only from within."

  Abby listened, almost unwillingly, her head bowed as Elda spoke.

  "But I put everyone in danger," Abby whined, a juvenile ploy that immediately embarrassed her.

  "No, you did not. You trusted your instincts, and right now those feelings still have one foot in your previous life. The life where you don't want to burden anyone with your problems, the life where you don't fully understand the powers that we all have individually and as a unit. Dafne saw you leave, Abby. When she alerted the rest of the coven, we took action. She volunteered to find you. We all made choices."

  Abby sighed and gave a short nod that hardly reflected belief in Elda's words.

  "Listen to what I am saying, Abby." Elda's voice was sharper now. "You are one of us and we of you, there is no blame, no single responsibility. Every weight is shouldered by all of us, not one, never one."

  Tears dripped down Abby's cheeks, and she pulled her legs up to her chest, hugging them tightly.

  "You eliminated an enemy that has killed savagely for over thirty years. Antonio, you killed him, Abby, do you understand how important that is?"

  Abby didn't, how could she? All she had done was follow the directions laid out in a book in their very own library, information that every one of them had access to. Not to mention she killed him to save herself, to save her family, or so she’d thought at the time.

  “Abby, of all the witches in our coven, only Oliver, Faustine and Dafne have ever successfully killed a Vepar.”

  “How is that possible?” she asked in disbelief.

  “It is possible because they are very difficult to murder. They’re evil, their power and their desire for our blood makes them the most horrific of enemies. To kill them means to get close enough to taste their scent, feel their fingernails on your skin.” Elda shuddered. “We have found that they kill us more frequently than we them.”

  Again, Abby stared incredulously at Elda, fighting the urge to shake her head, “no.”

  “It’s true,” Elda confirmed. “That is why we created Covens, that is why we band together. Only our hunters, Oliver and Dafne, seek out the Vepars and only if threatened.”

  “But why?” Abby demanded, “why not just rush in and attack? Take all of them down in their cave or hole or whatever it is that they live in?”

  Elda sat up straighter and rotated a smoky quartz ring on the middle finger of her right hand. Finally she spoke. “Abby, the Vepars surpass us in some ways. Not all of them, of course, but enough. They have a direct link to the darkest magic that exists. They can conjure the dead, they can bring people back.”

  This final remark sent a strip of chills down Abby’s spine, and she burrowed further into the chair, pulling her thin black cardigan more closely around her.

  “How?” she croaked.

  “That, I do not know,” Elda replied, standing and moving towards the fire. She rested a hand on the mantle, fingering a small silver picture frame. In the frame, a sepia colored photo revealed a row of smiling faces. They may have been ordinary people, but Abby doubted it. Their clothing dated them, maybe 1920s or 30s. The men wore tuxedos, the women slinky flapper dresses, and the children, three boys, were dressed in matching white tuxes, their hair combed flat against their melon shaped heads.

  “Who are they?” Abby asked, fishing.

  “They are a story for another time,” Elda whispered, sweeping away from the fire and back to her chair. “Let’s talk about the Lourdes.”

  Abby frowned, but bit back the gurgle of disgust that threatened.

  “She was horrible,” she told Elda, unconsciously rubbing her palms along her pant legs, as if still trying to remove the red moss that had momentarily pooled within them. “And I think I helped her.”

  “Perhaps,” said Elda simply. “But that is of no matter. What I would like now is for you to understand what the Lourdes is.”

  “Isn’t she a witch?”

  “Yes, she is a witch, but she is also one of the Depraved. The Depraved are witches who are seduced by dark magic and choose to align with Vepars.”

  “Why would they do that?”

  “Because Vepars cross lines that ordinary witches will not. You see, Abby, it is part of our contract with the earth to do good with our powers. That is a sacred belief in the witch community, ‘Harm None.’ The Vepars have no such convictions. If anything, their supreme goal is to murder, maim and destroy anything with even an ounce of good residing in it.”

  “But why the Lourdes, why did she go bad?”

  Elda paused and stared across the room. Abby saw her eyes settle briefly on the picture over the fireplace.

  “Because her child was murdered by a Vepar, and she wanted her back,” Elda spoke so casually that Abby almo
st misunderstood.

  “Wait, the Vepars killed her kid, and she joined them?”

  “Not exactly,” Elda hurried on. “You see, the Lourdes was one of the most powerful witches in the world. She could see things, the future, in a way. She was clairvoyant, could tell fortunes, and concoct potions that have never been replicated. The Vepars wanted her badly, and there are witches who are also Vepars, who choose that black world. One such Vepar, Ira, was a man who had a very strange ability. He could block witches who read minds. Not just telepathy, but tarot readings, astrology readings, even dream analyzers. His mind was impenetrable; however, he also had the ability to create thoughts so that a witch attempting to discern him would get whatever message he intended to send. He befriended the Lourdes, and she began to fall in love with him.”

  Abby shook her head slowly from side to side, almost afraid to hear more.

  “Just imagine that? Is he true? Does he love me? Yes, loud and clear and passionate, yes. That’s what she heard from his thoughts every time. So she fell for him, and when her daughter, Delphia, was murdered, the Lourdes very nearly went insane. Only her new lover, Ira, consoled her. He conjured thoughts of grief and devastation. Then he showed her a false memory that involved glimpsing Delphia with a group of human men, a group of men supposedly luring her to her death. The Lourdes wanted to kill them, to burn their village to the ground, but Ira convinced her that there was another way. “A Vepar,” he said, “one whom could help them.” Not only would the Vepar drive mad the men who had murdered Delphia, they would bring her back from the dead. The Lourdes, in her grief, obliged.”

  Elda stopped, waiting, and Abby slid to the edge of her seat, enraptured with the heinous tale.

  “Why couldn’t she do it herself?”

  “Because our oath is to ‘harm none.’ It is sacred, and it comes with sacrifice. Sometimes that means losing people who you love because revenge is dark. To think it is one thing, but to act it out, that’s something else…”