Spirit

by Shauna Granger

  I tossed pieces of meat and potato to Balor as we ate. When we were done, Balor curled up next to me, his large body a perfect wind break. I was surrounded with heat from Balor on one side and the fire on the other. I scooted down until I could rest my head on his body, pulling Jacob’s coat tighter around me.

  “You know, I left people behind too,” Jacob said, breaking the silence. I opened my eyes to look at him across the fire. He sat with his arms around his legs, his chin resting on his knees. From this angle, his eyes looked like orange and red glass.

  “I’m sure everyone did,” I replied, not sure what else to say.

  “Clara,” he said.

  “What?”

  “That was my girl,” he said, still staring into the fire. “Her name was Clara. Isn’t that a beautiful name? Clara.”

  “Yes,” I agreed, “very pretty.”

  “’Course that ended a long time ago,” he said. “She married someone else over a year ago.”

  I waited, not sure what to say. Jacob was quiet for so long I figured he had changed his mind about sharing, so I closed my eyes, turning into Balor’s warmth. I heard Jacob move, his feet scraping against the ground as he, too, laid down.

  “I wonder if she misses me,” he said, almost too quiet to be heard over the nearby river and the crackle and pop of the fire.

  “I’m sure she does,” I said, thinking about all the people I had left behind.

  “Pretty to think so,” he said, making me open my eyes and pick up my head. I had said that phrase many times in life and had yet to hear anyone else say it, but Jacob had closed his eyes and rolled so his back was to me. Apparently the conversation was over for the night.

  I lay awake, staring up at the starless sky. Sleep eluded me even when both Balor and Jacob’s breathing patterns slowed, telling me they were both asleep. I pushed away from Balor as quietly as I could, but when I sat up, I saw him open one red eye, arching his furry brow at me. I put my finger to my pursed lips, silently telling him to be quiet as I climbed to my feet. I dusted my pants and Jacob’s coat off, the dust puffing out in grey clouds, nearly startling a cough out of me.

  I found the horses still grazing by the river. Digging into the saddle bag where I kept the stolen weapons, I found the bundled fabric that held my magic looking glass and pulled it out. I went back over to our fire. The flames were dying out, so I fed it a few of the unused branches, bringing the flames back to full life. Heat washed over me, easing some of my aches. I watched Jacob for a few minutes to make sure the renewed crackling and popping of the fire wouldn’t wake him up. When he remained asleep, I turned my attention to the looking glass clutched in my hands.

  I closed my eyes and thought of my home, picturing my dad in his recliner, reading the newspaper, and my mother on the couch, a book in her hand. I thought about my room, filled with my books. Our kitchen and the near-constant aroma of coffee wafting through the house. When I opened my eyes, the black glass of the looking glass shifted, becoming fog-like, until it finally cleared and revealed my home. Just as I had expected, my parents were sitting, both reading.

  My father looked older than I remembered. New, deeper lines traced his forehead and the corners of his eyes. My mother looked faded, like some of the light had gone out of her. The same dark circles under her eyes were still there. My throat closed, and I had to force myself to swallow past the lump as I blinked back tears. But the important thing was that they were okay, albeit a little damaged, but they were coping.

  I closed my eyes again and concentrated on Jodi’s image. I had been checking in on Steven so much, but Jodi’s reaction to my death had worried me much more than Steven’s. I saw my soul sister in my mind, her short blond hair lifting on the current of her magic, her blue eyes bright with power and curiosity. I thought of her as she truly was: covered in blue and purple and white electric currents, turning her pixie face into something feral and fierce.

  When I opened my eyes again, the image in the glass was the sight of a familiar forest – the place we had gone when I had been drained of power and where Steven had set the fire. It was the last place we had performed magic together.

  Chapter 11

  Jodi sat in the middle of the clearing where we’d had our picnic. I could almost smell the coffee and chocolate. She’d picked tiny clover flowers to make a daisy chain. The length pooled in her lap as her slender fingers wove the flowers together. She looked much the way she had at the funeral, except through the looking glass I couldn’t see the shadow of death looming over her. Her usually glossy white and yellow hair was lank and flat against her head, tucked behind her ears, and her fair skin just looked pale. The few freckles she had stood out in stark contrast on her cheeks. I couldn’t see her eyes, her lids were lowered as she watched the chain in her hands, but I imagined they were probably dull to match the rest of her.

  The looking glass edges bit into my fingers as I gripped it, wishing I could reach out and give her some small measure of hope. She finished the ring of flowers and laid it in the green grass in front of her in an imperfect circle. Setting her elbows into her knees, she propped her chin on her fists. From this angle, I could see the red streaks on her cheeks and the dark circles under her eyes that seemed a normal part of her appearance anymore. Before she would never have set foot out of her house without applying concealer and base until her complexion was just perfect. But now she just didn’t seem to care.

  Jodi drew in a deep breath through her nose and exhaled through her mouth, her thin lips parting slightly. I expected a sudden breeze to swing through the clearing before picking up the delicate chain of flowers and tumbling it away, but nothing happened. Her shoulders slumped imperceptibly, almost as if she wasn’t entirely surprised at the lack of results. In the last few years, Jodi’s Air abilities had really been something to behold.

  At some point, she had found her Air, the inner spark inside of her body, inside of her soul, that was the very essence of her being. She had no longer needed to ground, center, and concentrate to use it. Jodi had just become Air. I think it was after harnessing the power of the storm as we fought for our lives against the nymphs. Electricity from the lighting had filled her body, and she had come out the other side, not only alive, but full of power.

  As I stared down at her in that tiny window in my hand, she seemed to have even less power than she did when we met as little girls on the playground. Every day since my death, time had stolen more and more of her powers. Even that feral wind that chased her steps at the memorial was lost to her. She shook her head and closed her eyes, holding back the tears filling her wide blue eyes.

  She drew in another steadying breath and said, “I call to the East, by the strength of intellect and Air, to guide me this day.”

  “Whoa, Jodi,” I whispered into the glass. “You’re gonna try casting?”

  “Creatures of Air, hear my call.” Her voice rose with every word, becoming stronger, her face more determined. “I call to the East, by the strength of intellect and Air, to guide me this day. Creatures of Air, hear my call!”

  She held her hands up in front of her, lifting them until they were above her head, palms up to the sky. She said the invocation once more, just as I expected her to, before nearly screaming, “By the power of three times three, answer me!”

  Nothing moved around her, not even a breeze to stir the foliage. She remained in that position until her arms shook with exhaustion. Her fingers drained of color as the blood rushed away. My lungs burned from holding my breath, praying something, anything would respond to her desperate call.

  Jodi opened her eyes when the chirp of a bird, almost too faint to hear, sounded off to her right. After a few moments, three tiny sparrows darted into the clearing, two flitting close enough to land on her outstretched hands. Something between a laugh and a sob burst from her, scaring the third, as yet unsettled bird. He darted away into the shadows of the trees he’d come from.

  Her hands still trembling, Jodi slowly lowered her h
ands until they rested in her lap. The two sparrows chirped in protest, but when she stopped moving, they fluttered their wings and resettled their feathers, never leaving her hands. Tears rolled down her face, strangely clear due to her unusual lack of mascara. I blinked rapidly, making the tears that stung my eyes fall as well.

  “It’s not all gone then, is it, Shay?” Jodi asked, lifting her face up to the sky as if she could see me looking down on her.

  “No,” I answered even though she couldn’t hear me, “it’s not all lost.”

  Jodi laughed with a strained smile as she looked down at the tiny birds. She was probably hoping some faeries would answer her call, but these two precious birds were a huge relief, for the both of us.

  I closed my eyes again, and when I opened them, the glass was black and the image of Jodi was gone. I glanced around and saw our two horses were finally still by the river, their heads hanging low and their large black eyes closed. Jacob still had his back to me, but his back rose and fell slowly as he slept. Balor dozed quietly next to me, waiting for me to lie back down. I wrapped the looking glass back up and tucked it between me and Balor before I laid down, finally feeling the fingers of sleep pulling at me. A knot in my shoulder was suddenly looser, and I was able to fall asleep.

  ***

  The sounds of the horses screaming woke me. Balor jumped to his feet, making me fall back and nearly hit my head on the ground. Jacob yelled something, but the rumble of the earth and the cat monsters’ screaming as they tore down the river toward us swallowed his words.

  They looked just like the pack that had treed me so many nights ago, but the river matted their white fur, turning it a dingy grey. Their black lips were pulled back over their razor teeth in wild sneers. Fearghus and the other horse reared up, their hooves peddling in the air as they screamed. Balor had squared off in their path, growling and snapping his jaws, just waiting for them.

  “Shayna!” Jacob’s scream was so close to my face that it jarred me from my frozen state, and I scrambled to my feet, barely remembering to snatch up the looking glass as I ran for Fearghus. Catching his reins took me three tries, but I pulled his head down, making him put his hooves on the ground.

  “Fearghus, stop!” I yelled, trying to get my foot in the stirrup, gripping the saddle hard enough to make my fingers ache as I fought the terrified horse.

  “Shayna, hurry!” Jacob yelled from atop his mount. Unable to stop myself, I glanced over my shoulder and saw the pack of grey and white fur boiling over itself, the water splashing wildly in every direction. One broke away from the pack in a mad dash, barreling right for Balor. I screamed for him to come, feeling a stitch forming in my chest. I watched the creature launch itself at him, knife-like claws extended.

  Balor waited until the cat was airborne before he launched himself off the ground, his wide jaws open. Balor hurled himself into the cat’s soft underbelly, his teeth sinking into the wet fur, breaking the skin so that bright red blood burst from between his teeth. The cat monster howled in anger and pain, bringing his claws to clutch at Balor as they tumbled to the ground. When they stopped, Balor was on top, and with one forceful wrench of his head, he ripped the monster’s belly open in a shower of red and darker colors of things I didn’t want to think about.

  My stomach roiled and threatened to lose what little food I had before I turned my face away, refusing to watch anymore. With Jacob screaming for me and the cat monsters yowling their anger, I swung my leg up, settled into the saddle, and pulled forcefully on the reins. I wrenched Fearghus’s head around and put my heels to him, urging him forward. Fearghus took off like a shot, galloping away with Jacob and his horse following.

  “Balor!” I screamed over my shoulder. “To me! Balor!” I heard him bark twice, and in a few more strides, the white streak of his body barreled by me. A sob of relief escaped me. I leaned over Fearghus’s neck, curling my fingers into his mane.

  “Faster, Fearghus, faster,” I urged and felt the almost imperceptible change. The wind whipped wildly around us as he increased his speed. Carefully, and without raising my body, I looked behind me. We were putting distance between us and the pack of cat monsters, to my great relief. I only wished some of those carnivorous birds would come to my rescue again. Their growls and yowls faded. Only when my fingers ached from holding on to Fearghus did I realize how far we had run.

  After a while, I sat up and said, “Easy.” I untangled my fingers from his mane, taking up the reins again. “Easy, Fearghus.” Fearghus took some yards to slow his gallop to a trot and then finally a gentle walk. I called to Jacob as Balor doubled back to circle around Fearghus’s legs.

  “Shayna, what are ye doin’?” Jacob asked, his accent becoming thicker with the speed of his heart rate.

  “They aren’t behind us anymore. I don’t want to run Fearghus until he collapses.” I patted Fearghus’s neck, feeling the lather on his coat.

  “They can still be after us though,” Jacob pressed. His terror made his horse prance in circles, unable to stand still.

  “Yes, I know,” I agreed. “But let’s just change course or something; I don’t want to kill Fearghus or make him break a leg in our rush.”

  “If only we knew how to move to another area in this godforsaken place!” Jacob yelled into the sky, blood rushing to his cheeks. I nodded, not needing to say anything. It occurred to me I hadn’t run into these cat monsters when I was in the valley, only when in wooded areas. If only we could figure out how to shift planes like Gwyn!

  “There would probably be monsters everywhere else anyway,” I grumbled.

  “We didn’t see monsters in the valley,” Jacob said, echoing my thoughts. His horse had finally settled, standing so his head was next to Fearghus’s, letting Jacob face me as we spoke.

  “The first night I got here, those things came after me.” Jacob’s head snapped to me, his eyes wide and bulging. “Yeah,” I nodded, “a scout, I guess, happened across me, and the rest came and I was stuck in a tree. They were about to climb up and get me, but then these creepy birds came and started attacking them.”

  “Birds attacking cats?” Jacob said with a strangled laugh. “Well now, that’s a turn.”

  “I know. I feel a little like Alice down the rabbit hole here.”

  I twisted in the saddle to reach into the bag with the weapons and retrieved the pistol grip crossbow, setting it on my lap while I pulled out the short sword and the quiver of small arrows. I had never used a sword before, unless you counted the many times Steven, Jodi, and I had battled through the aisles of Toys R Us with red and green light sabers. Even in my self-defense lessons with Michael, we hadn’t progressed to traditional weapons. He wanted me to learn how to use improvised weapons like my purse or a rolled up magazine.

  “Where’d you get those?” Jacob asked, rocking in his saddle as his horse shifted its weight.

  “Filched them,” I said, using his term.

  “Smart,” he said with a quick nod.

  “Here.” I leaned over Fearghus’s neck to hold the sword out to him. “I’d probably end up cutting myself.”

  “And you know how to use one of them, do ya?” he asked, nodding toward the crossbow.

  I pulled one of the arrows out of the quiver and set it into the groove on the crossbow, pulling it until the string was taut and there was an audible click. “Actually, I’ve never used one before, but it’s a pistol grip, and my grandfather did teach me how to shoot a gun,” I said as I lifted my arm, gripping the crossbow and squinting my eye as I aimed. “Shouldn’t be that different.”

  Jacob made a noise of derision, not that I could blame him; it probably was very different from firing my grandfather’s six-shooter. But I had never wielded a sword, so I would take my chances with something at least a little bit familiar.

  “And you? Do you know what to do with that?”

  “I took fencing as a kid.” He shrugged, rotating his grip on the sword.

  “Yeah, so you’re no expert either,” I said. J
acob lifted his eyes to me; the red fringe of hair fell into his eyes. He shook his head, tossing his hair out of his eyes, and he laughed.

  “I suppose I’m not. Well, it’s better than being empty-handed. Thank you,” he added, lifting the sword in the air with a nod.

  “You’re welcome.” I nodded back. “We should keep moving.”

  We decided to stay near the river but moved up into the line of trees for a little coverage in case the cat monsters were still running downriver. After the close call, we decided to eat while we rode, munching on the salted beef and raw vegetables. We let Balor run off into the woods to hunt and the horses stop to graze for a few minutes. When Balor rejoined us, the fur around his muzzle was streaked in pink and red. I chose not to dwell on what he did to make that happen.

  Later, when we finally decided to stop to rest, I practiced with the crossbow. I chose a tree with a natural circular knot at shoulder height and paced off ten feet. My first shot went way high. I had to climb up the trunk until I could pull it free.

  “All right,” I mumbled, “so it is a little different than a gun.” My next shot went wide, veering to the right and landing in the ground about twenty feet past the tree. Gritting my teeth, I stalked over to get it. When I was back in position, I heard Jacob approach behind me, trying to be quiet to keep from breaking my concentration. I didn’t know if he had seen the two wild shots or heard my mutterings and curses, but now that he stood behind me and watched, I felt my shoulders inching toward my ears. I really didn’t need an audience right now.

  I heard my grandfather’s voice telling me to relax my shoulders. For a moment, I thought I could feel the gentle press of his warm fingers, urging my shoulders down. “Remember to breathe,” he’d always said. Closing my eyes, I drew in a breath through my nose, holding it for a moment and letting it press my lungs open, and dropped my shoulders. I eased the strain I was putting on my elbow, and when I opened my eyes, I squeezed the trigger.