What if forward is the only way back?
What an odd thing to think, and yet the thought compels me further. Tonight, my body belongs to these woods, the same woods that have stolen me from wherever I’ve come. My body moves onward despite myself, and the music grows louder. Between the notes, there’s a fluttering of wings in the distance and the burble of a creek.
Then I see them. A flock of sparrows. Verity and I used to watch the birds fly. ‘Birds are friends that stay together like family,’ she said. ‘This is a good sign.’
Tonight’s cold is mild and the ground is sprinkled with acorns. All signs of good things to come, as my friend would have me believe. I don’t believe in such superstitions, but yet I can’t help but feel some small flicker of peace.
A few feet farther and a path starts up again. I have never taken this path before, yet it’s as though I’ve known the way here all my life.
Deeper in the woods, a fire glows orange behind the trees, illuminating my path with an ever increasing brightness. An oddly familiar sensation hums through me. I belong here. I step closer, step around the trees and into the clearing.
The music stops.
A young man pokes at the fire with a large branch. The fire illuminates the clearing, though the night keeps the colors of the world around me muted. The man by the fire is not dressed as most Puritans—no breeches or stockings, no cravat or waistcoat—but his clothing is just as dreary, from the woolen charcoal sweater to his long dark pants.
Most surprising, however, is the golden sheen to his skin. At first I think it’s the fire glistening off his pearly white complexion, but the more I stare, the more I realize the sheen is part of his skin. But where the darkness of the spirits instills fear, his unique appearance has the opposite effect. It’s as though he is radiating a good nature.
“Cordovae,” he says, hoarsely.
The name sparks a memory. Rose, hiding in her mind, using that name to bring her comfort. That had been me, and only those I could trust ever called me Cordovae. But those people had never been real...
Yet here is this man, standing right where I can see him, calling me by that very name. How?
His head swivels toward me, shifting earthy-brown hair from his dark eyes. He’s a bit older than I’d thought at first. Mid-to-late twenties, would be my guess. But none of this dismisses the most important detail of all: I do not know this man. I am not familiar with his red-rimmed eyes, nor his square, shaded jaw or defeated expression.
“You’ve come.”
“It was not so much intentional.” I’m surprised by the odd peace that overwhelms me in his presence. It’s as though my path has crossed with an old friend instead of a stranger.
“Sorry about that,” he says.
I can’t fathom why he would be apologizing for my arrival; I sense I am expected here. Shivering cold, I pray silently for the night breeze to die down. But I don’t know if that is why I’m shaking or if it’s nerves that rattle me.
“Why have you called me Cordovae?”
“It is the name of your spirit.”
I feel both safer and more vulnerable that he knows this. Is it really the name of my spirit, though? I do not flee, but I do not move closer to him, either. Though he has done nothing to threaten me, I am at the same time cautious of him.
“What was that music?” I ask.
“A song only you can hear,” he says. “Your calling. Ankou, as you are destined to become, are air elementals, and as such ruled by the Earth. We all hear the drums, but only you will hear your music.”
“Would not air be ruled by the sky?” I ask, ignoring his senselessness in favor of simply pointing out the holes in his logic.
He grabs a stick and draws a star within a circle. He marks each point clockwise: Spirit, Air, Fire, Earth, Water. He retraces the line from Air to Earth in the star. “See? Air is called by Earth.”
It’s time to leave. This man cannot be mentally stable. But my feet remain rooted where I stand.
Before I can form a coherent question, a young woman with the same golden skin comes out from the brambles, carrying a large bowl. Behind her, beyond the wall of trees, an ocean crashes against a rocky shore. But once my gaze reaches her eyes, I can’t stop staring at her. She stumbles before continuing over, the skirts of her fitted, dark violet dress rustling against the forest floor. Her bell-sleeves are unfamiliar to the style of the Puritans as well, as are the black cords around her waist. After she sets the bowl on the ground beside the man, she assesses me with her sharp, pear-green eyes.
“I thought we were going to wait,” she says sharply. Both her voice and appearance indicate she is barely a woman—perhaps not much older than sixteen.
The man shakes his head. “Please, Tess. We’ve waited long enough.”
Tess sits across from him on a twisted log that reminds me of melted wax. I know not what to do but stand there, though I feel horribly awkward doing so. In the bowl, the moon reflects in the slosh of liquid. The man ladles some into three chalices.
Verity would say not to drink that. Never drink anything that reflects the moon. It’s bad luck.
He steps a bit closer—close enough that I can smell the ocean on his skin, but not so close as to crowd my space. Not close enough to make me panic. So why are my hands getting moist and my heart fluttering?
His lips fall slightly apart, and he tilts his head, staring at me now as though his vision has finally registered my existence. His eye contact is firm, eyes shining, expression softening. My cheeks grow hot.
“You look flushed,” he says, and my heart beats even faster. “The cold will do that to you. Come—sit by the fire.”
I’m too stunned to disobey. An odd sensation wracks my body, as though something outside myself commands my actions, yet I still feel in control—I feel I could deny my compulsion if I wanted to.
Why don’t I want to?
The warmth of the fire is a welcome relief from the cold, but soon the heat makes me queasy. I scoot back.
The man hands a chalice to Tess who takes a long sip and sets it aside. The other two chalices he leaves on the ground by his feet. There is something about him...something about this night.
Tess pulls her dark hair in front of her shoulders and weaves a long braid. “I suppose it is up to me to explain, as you’re draining William.”
“Excuse me?”
“William’s energy—you’re draining it. If you stop resisting, it would make this easier on all of us.”
“Resisting?”
“That’s what I said.” The annoyance is heavy in her sigh if not clear in her tone.
I glance over my shoulder from the direction I came. I know which way to go if I want to leave, yet I cannot see the path from my seat by the fire—not in the way I had been able to see the fire from the path. It’s as though I have stepped into a secret world.
“What do you want?” I ask, turning back to them.
Tess laughs. “If you are asking me, nothing. I’d like you to go back to your cabin and your town and forget this ever happened.”
William clears his throat.
Tess shifts her gaze to William momentarily. “Unfortunately, this has little to do with what I want. You were brought here yesterday to assist us.”
“I wasn’t here yesterday.”
“Not here,” she says, pointing to the ground, her teeth clenched together. “Here.” She widens her arms. “To this settlement. To this century.”
“I’ve lived here for three years.” Even as I say it, I know it’s a lie. But how else can I explain my memories living this life as Abigail?
“Your voice—does it sound like your own? Do your thoughts sound as you think they should?” Her face contorts in disgust, and she motions at me loosely with her hand. “Do you really think you are this woman?”
I press my lips together and narrow my eyes. There is no way she could know these things. No way she could know that I feel trapped, not just here in this town but in my
mind as well.
William places his hand on Tess’ forearm. “Be patient. You were in her place once before, too.”
Tess grits her teeth. “I know that,” she says, her voice edgy. She reverts her gaze to me, lifting her chalice closer to her lips but not sipping from it.
“You’re a Seer,” she says, over the cusp of chalice. “And you’ve been taken from another time and brought here to serve your purpose.”
“A Seer?”
“A human that can see the spirits of elementals. It happens to the human descendants of Ankou.”
I laugh and shake my head. I don’t know what’s come over me.
“Perhaps I best leave,” I say. I turn to go, but her next words stop me short:
“If you complete all that is required of you, you can go back.”
“Go back?” I ask slowly, turning to her again.
She nods.
“Back where?” I ask, testing her. Could she help me get back to Anna?
Tess swings her arm to one side, some liquid spilling from her chalice. “How the hell should I know?”
William snaps his attention toward her. “Tess!”
“Should we be soft on someone we want to fight at our side?” she asks testily, but she blows a breath through her nose and seems to compose herself. “Cordovae, have you had any fragments yet? A memory not from this lifetime?”
Immediately, my mind goes to Anna, my child. I look to my hands and scratch at the overgrowth of my cuticles. I am not sure I should tell her.
“No,” I lie. “I don’t think so.”
“It’s not something you think, it’s something you know. And you want to get back to that memory, don’t you?” she asks, as though I had admitted to her I did have such memories. “We can help you with that. We can get you back to your memories.”
I can’t believe I’m entertaining any of this—can’t believe I have even a modicum of trust for these complete strangers. Tess particularly doesn’t seem fond of me, and I have no idea why. Some people are just that way, but it doesn’t exactly make me believe she wants to help me.
“I never wanted to leave her in the first place,” I say. “I never would have left Anna behind.”
She scoffs. “I knew you had fragments. What were they? Tell us.”
I shrug, not liking the direction the conversation is going. My memories are personal, and I’ve already shared more than enough details with her.
“Well, at least you know who or what you are trying to return to. Some of us are stuck here until we figure that out—if we can figure out before it’s too late.”
“Too late?”
Tess nudges her companion. “You can stop now, William. She’s going to stay.”
The calling that pulled me here earlier fades, and I sway backwards.
Tess smiles thinly at me—a placating gesture without the placating effect. “You’ll have to forgive us. William used his influence to compel you to stay. We won’t do that to you again unless we need to.”
Why bother stopping then?
For some reason, I’m infuriated more than I think I should be. What right would anyone have to force me to stay anywhere? It is my body and my right.
“If you try to force me to do anything again, I will leave.”
“Okay, sugar,” Tess replies. “Whatever you say.”
I admit, though only to myself, that it speaks well of their intent that they didn’t hurt me while attempting to hold me under their control. But how were they keeping me here anyway? Had I imagined that pull, or does William really have some way of controlling what I do?
Ultimately, all that matters is that they said they can help me return to Anna.
“Tell me then,” I say, “what do I need to do to get back?”
My desire is so strong that I know right then I would try anything—anything—for a chance to return to my baby.
December 1691
William lifts a chalice and hands it to me. “First, you need to drink this.”
“I’m not drinking anything.” I slant my gaze toward him. Does he really think I would drink some unknown potion in the woods at night?
“It will connect you to us and make you what you need to be to fight this war,” he says, as though this will change my opinion.
“There’s no war here.”
“No?” William asks. He sweeps his arm toward the forest’s trees—toward the shadows and the Dark Ones. “I know you’ve seen them. Your attention drifts to them almost unknowingly. They are mortuss phasmatis, the dead spirits. We call them Morts. There are more here, in these times, than the times you come from. This is because of the elemental war.”
Tess smiles in a way I am sure is not meant to be kind. “We’re your guides. And you’re theirs.”
“Excuse me?”
“You have to redirect them,” she says. “The ones who are pure of spirit need to be moved to their next lifetime, and the others need to be destroyed before their destructive ways destroy mankind.”
“So then...people can be reincarnated?”
“No,” William says. “Not people. Elementals.”
“Then how did I get here?”
“You’ve been moved here, temporarily, by the Universe.”
I’m in no place to doubt anything. Not after all I’ve been through. “That doesn’t explain why the Morts need to be moved. Why don’t they just leave on their own?”
Tess quirks her eyebrow. “Surely you can understand not wanting to leave your past behind?”
“I don’t want to help them after what they’ve done to my family.”
“They aren’t all evil.” Tess’ lips twist in a frown. “And those who are were evil in life as well.”
“Why, though? Why are some evil and some good? Why don’t the good ones help?”
“Why is anyone evil?” Tess asks. “Why are some good people afraid to protect those being hurt by awful people? No one knows the answer to these questions, and I imagine no one ever will. All of which is irrelevant.”
William nods. “There is no hope your town will survive the Morts without your help, Cord. That’s why you need to be like us. Now drink.”
The urge to back away surges through my stomach again. My heart palpitates, and my chest tightens. “What’s in the cup?”
“We can make you drink it,” Tess says.
“Stop, Tess. She must drink it of her own will, with knowledge and understanding of what it will mean.”
“We don’t have time to convince her!” At her sudden outburst, I glance over. She’s tugging at her earlobe and seems frantically distressed. “She won’t believe until she sees for herself. Just make her do it.”
William hands me the chalice. “It does not taste bad,” he says. “It’s sweet, like berries. It comes from the Ankou—that is what you are to become to fulfill your purpose.”
I would think this is all so crazy, but I can’t deny all I have seen. Still, that doesn’t mean I should drink some unknown substance, no matter what it tastes like.
While my mind tells me trusting them is not a wise choice, my heart senselessly believes them. But that does not mean I have to blindly accept their direction.
“You’ll have to give me more than that,” I say. “What is this Ankou you expect me to become?”
“Ankou are the air elementals sent to move the Morts, as you will learn to do,” William says. “I fear you will simply have to take our word for it, for the time being.”
“I fear you are wrong,” I counter. “I don’t have to do anything.”
Tess smirks, crossing her arms. “Still want to leave this up to her?”
William glowers at her, then slides his gaze back to me, pressing his fist against his mouth. He sighs heavily. “We’re certainly wasting time arguing. Then tell me, what is it you wish to know?”
“Everything. What are elementals? Why is there a war? Why do you need me? What do I have to do?”
“The questions you ask would take centuries to fully
understand, but I will tell you what I can with so little time to spare.”
I’m already confused. “How can there be little time to spare when people can be moved through time on the Universe’s whim? Wouldn’t that make time irrelevant?”
“Do you want to understand this?”
I press my teeth into my bottom lip and nod.
“It started with the Universe’s attempt to purge evil from the human race. They created a new life form—the Cruor—who were sent to hunt and kill any humans who had strayed from their intended path.”
I stare down at my hands. “Had some omnipotent being really thought that would be the answer to the world’s problems?”
When William doesn’t respond, I peek up at him. He’s cocked an eyebrow that says, ‘Are you very well done with interrupting me?’ Or maybe it doesn’t say that. But seeing as I don’t know him much at all, I feel inclined to talk a little less.
“Their intentions were in the right place,” he says finally. “But some of the Cruor themselves were evil, and so the Universe sent the Strigoi, with their ability to change form to hunt the corrupt Cruor.”
“I’m guessing their troubles didn’t end there?” I ask, trying to be a little more agreeable to hearing what he has to say.
“No.” William relaxes back, his legs stretching his feet closer to the fire. “That’s why the Ankou were sent. Their magic was intended to bring peace among the elemental races, but incidentally this opened gateways for the races to intermingle, which brought with it its own hatred and violence.”
I want to be surprised by the negative outcome of something as wonderful as what he has suggested, but I know mankind too much to be shaken by this revelation. “Who did they send after that?”
William shakes his head. “No one, not yet.”
“Maybe they thought they did enough damage...”
He chuckles silently, but it’s a bitter, humorless laugh. A laugh that hides deep-set anger. “Not quite. A council formed shortly after that. The Maltorim. They were going to oversee the elementals, bring order, but of course they too became corrupt. Power has a way of doing that to people.”
When William looks at me next, chills rush along the fine hairs of my pale arms. He’s absolutely right. But what does that say about him? Doesn’t he have powers of his own? Isn’t he suggesting that, if I join him, I will, too?
COME, THE DARK: (Forever Girl Series Book Two) Page 4