by Ann Gimpel
Hours passed. Luke paid out the wood, a bit at a time. He maintained a thin line of flames between them and the wraiths, but the feeble fire flickered ominously. Could it last through until dawn? That was looking less and less likely. Fear for his other sisters nagged him, but he reasoned if Ma and Pa were here, they weren’t at the Waverlys’ farm, so Marta and Lilly should be safe. He added them to his prayers as a hedge against a phalanx of unknowns.
Luke cast a desperate eye about for something else to burn, but didn’t see anything. Tamra had used up the straw to get the fire going. Only a couple chunks of wood remained, and it was still black as pitch beyond where Ma and Pa had planted themselves.
“We’re runnin’ out,” Tamra whispered, clutching his arm and pointing to the few remaining shards of wood.
The husks of his parents leaned closer, their mouths curved in feral grins.
They’re practically salivating. They’ve figured out there’s not enough wood. Soon as the fire wanes, they’ll be on us.
Luke cursed himself for a fool, his anger flaring. All his prayers had done was keep him from coming up with a real solution.
Tamra twisted and stabbed a grimy finger in front of her. “What’s that?”
An odd light, all colors, and yet no color he could name, oozed through the rocks at the rear of the cave. “I don’t know,” he muttered. As he stared, mesmerized, the otherworldly glow grew to such a brilliance it hurt his eyes. The amulet, still clutched in his hand, warmed and began to throb.
The fire made a wet, gurgling noise and guttered. Like a hunting dog on red alert, his father jumped the pit, grabbed Tamra, and hauled her toward the mouth of the cave. His sister wailed piteously, writhing and kicking in Pa’s grasp.
“No!” Luke screamed. “Noooooo...” He let go of the amulet and lunged after the pair, grabbing Tamra’s feet and yanking as hard as he could. Tam screamed louder. Luke kept on tugging. As Ma lowered her face for the kiss that would steal Tamra’s soul, the amulet turned red hot against his chest.
The brightness coming from the rear of the cave pulsed with energy.
His father cursed, words he’d never used before spewing from him, but at least he loosened his grip on Tamra. Luke sprinted toward the rear of the cave holding his sister close. His mother shielded her own body with her hands, but the light curled around her, creating noxious-smelling smoke.
The brilliance was so intense, Luke had to shut his eyes. When he pried them open, Ma and Pa were gone—and so was the mysterious light. The cave sat empty, except for him and Tamra, who was dangling from his hands and still screaming.
Repositioning his sister, he cradled her against him. “Ssssh, hush,” he murmured over and over.
“I wet myself,” she sobbed, face buried against him.
“Never mind. I would’ve too, if it’d been me.”
“Put me down so I can get my drawers off.”
A burnt smell, different from the fire pit, rose and he realized it was his own flesh, scored where the amulet rested against it. He rubbed at his breastbone, but that made it hurt more.
“They’re gone,” Tamra mumbled from somewhere behind him. “You saved us, Luke.” She was still snuffling, but seemed in control of her fear.
Luke readied himself to sit out what remained of the night. He’d just settled against a damp, curving wall when an unpleasant thought struck. “The wraiths. We ran them off here, so they’ve likely gone after Marta and Lilly.” He recognized the ring of truth as soon as the words were out.
A dim version of the curious light in the cave returned, almost as if it agreed.
“If Ma and Pa are truly gone,” Tamra sounded much less scared than she had earlier, “we might could take the horse to the Waverlys’.”
Of course. Why didn’t I think of that?
“Great idea.” Luke realized he should’ve taken the horse when he went after Aethelred—not that it would have altered the outcome. But Abel was a plow horse and rarely ridden, so it never occurred to him.
He pushed heavily to his feet. “Let’s go get Abel. We’ll toss a blanket over him. In fact, bring that one.” He pointed to hers, wadded in a heap near the wall.
Nodding, she scrambled up. “Think it’s safe?” she muttered and peered at the odd light, still suffusing the cave with its comforting warmth.
“Truth?”
“Yes, I’m wantin’ the truth.” Tamra drew herself tall, a solemn light in her eyes.
“I don’t know how safe it is.” He swallowed hard. “Probably not safe at all, but we have to warn the Waverlys.” He hesitated. “There’s something in this cave taking care of us. Let’s hope it follows us out of here.” He took Tamra’s hand. “Come on.”
It was black as pitch outside. And cold, but at least it had stopped raining. A slender thread of the multi-hued light floated out of the cave and wrapped itself around the two of them, rather like a length of shimmery rope. Its soft glow was welcome, and Luke managed not to stumble as he led the way to the moss-coated shed where Abel was tethered.
Clucking softly to the horse, Luke tossed the blanket onto his broad back. He untied Abel’s halter, and then boosted Tamra up. She ducked to avoid the shed’s low-hanging roofline. Luke led the horse out, vaulted onto its back, and turned its head toward the Waverlys’ farm. They bounced unpleasantly once he whipped Abel into a ragged trot. When he looked down, Luke was surprised to find his free hand still clutching Aethelred’s amulet.
A lighter gray painted the far horizon, and pink streaks formed, pale as seashells. “Hurry,” Luke urged, gripping Abel with his knees. “Hurry.” Tamra’s small body, rigid with determination, pushed against him. He stared down the deserted road, willing the Waverlys’ farm to appear.
The glowing rope unwound itself and stretched outward into a straight line.
“I think it means for us to walk from here,” Luke muttered, not understanding how he could possibly know that, but knowing it all the same. He wrapped his arm around Tamra and jumped down.
“Abel’s leaving,” Tamra whispered urgently.
“It’s all right. He knows the way home.” Luke looked around nervously and followed the ghostly light’s trail, with his sister clinging to his side. The amulet warmed again in his hand. He clutched it so hard it cut into his flesh, and blood trickled down his palm.
The road turned a sharp bend. Light shone from the windows of the Waverlys’ rambling, two-story farmhouse. Folks used lanterns sparingly because it took a lot of work to render the fat to fuel them. Did all that light mean Ma and Pa were somewhere close? The fine hairs on the back of Luke’s neck stood on end, and he combed the dark for any sign of the wraiths.
Tamra gasped, “Luke! Look there,” and clung even tighter to his hand.
Outlined in the light of the coming day, Ma and Pa grinned at them from the far side of the Waverlys’ front yard. They weren’t as...solid as they’d been in the dark of the cave, but they leered and beckoned, calling for their four children.
“Blood knows its own,” Ma crooned, her voice simple and terrible. “I birthed you all. Come to me now.” The farmhouse door opened, and then thudded shut. Luke heard raised voices inside and understood one of his sisters tried to go to Ma, but had been pulled back. His parents shambled toward the farmhouse, their eyes glistening brightly.
“Go,” he hissed at Tamra. “Run onto the porch and get inside.” He placed his body between his sister and his parents. Acid curdled his empty stomach and tears stung his eyes. He wanted Pa to be, well, his Pa again. And Ma... She’d fed him, cared for him... How could she have turned into the atrocity advancing across the yard?
Tamra’s footsteps pounded as she raced for the porch and safety. Another slam of the door told him she was in the Waverlys’ capable hands. With the glowing rope of light in place around him, and apprehension chewing a hole in his guts, Luke shut out the rest of the world and faced the wraiths.
“You shall leave here,” he called out sternly, except it wasn’t his voice. S
omeone else spoke through him. It terrified him, but that didn’t matter. What did was sudden understanding he’d been picked to kill the wraiths that had been his parents—or be killed trying.
His head whirled, but power humming through him kept him on his feet. Things grew disjointed after that. Pa leapt toward the porch. Before Luke could react, Ma jumped him and he had to push her chill weight off himself again and again. Then it was Pa he grappled with, and then Ma again. In a distant corner of his mind, Luke wondered which was worse: killing his parents or letting them kill him.
He struggled to his feet for the hundredth time, or maybe it was the thousandth. He’d lost count. His head pounded, and his heart ached as if he’d been stabbed.
The amulet grew hot, blazing hot, and the shimmering cord tightened about him. Fire erupted from his outstretched hands, but his parents—and something else he couldn’t quite make out—were finally fading, scattering in the light pouring off him. In moments, they’d be gone.
“Ma, Pa,” he moaned, surprised to hear his own voice. “I love you. I’m sorry, so very sorry...”
Something constricted his throat, choking off his air, and the other voice took over his vocal chords again. “You are banished from the light,” it shouted. “You shall not return. Not ever.”
After that, saying anything became a struggle because the magical cord cut off his wind. The stench of his own burning flesh filled his nostrils, gagging him. Gasping for air, he collapsed in the wet mud of the yard.
* * *
When Luke came back to himself, he lay on a sofa in the Waverlys’ familiar front room. Aethelred bent over him, wrapping soft bandages around his hands. “You came after all,” Luke said weakly.
“That I did,” the wizard replied. “You called for the goddess, and she sent me to help things along. Hold still now so I can finish with your hands. One was burnt nigh on down to bone.”
“Are they gone?” Luke was almost afraid to ask, but he had to know.
“Yes,” Aethelred replied, and a savage note chimed beneath that one word. “You did it, lad. They’ll not be bothering any of us, not ever again.” The wizard hunkered down and looked right into Luke’s eyes. The amulet was back around his neck and this time his piercing gaze didn’t hurt. “I’m sorry they’re lost to you, but we saved your kin from the half-life of the damned. There couldn’t be a better outcome.”
“Others,” Luke croaked. “There must be other wraiths.” He looked blearily at the wizard. It was hard to think because his brain felt swaddled in wool.
“Yes, there are other undead, but they’re not your kin. It makes a difference. Once you’re better, we’ll—”
“Can we see him?” Tear-stained voices interrupted the wizard.
Aethelred frowned against his white beard. “Those sisters of yours have been nattering on ever since I carried you in here and laid you down.”
Footsteps clattered on wooden risers. In a flurry of long hair, wet cheeks, stroking hands, and soft words, his sisters surrounded him.
“All right,” Luke said gruffly. “I really am all right. No need to fuss so.” He disentangled himself from the bevy of embraces, afraid he’d cry.
Recognition of something wrong sank slowly into his befuddled brain, and his eyes widened. “Tamra, where’s Tamra?” He staggered to his feet and stared stupidly at the corners of the room as if she might crawl out from under a piece of furniture.
Joad Waverly moved in front of Luke and placed gnarled, work-stained hands on his shoulders. “It was my fault,” he said. “I wouldn’t let her in.”
“But I heard the door—” Luke began.
“Yes, and I slammed it. I’m sorry, son.” Joad’s nostrils flared. “Tamra’d been out of doors in the dark with...with what was left of your folks. Couldn’t risk it.” He shook his head sharply. “I had Clare and your other sisters to think of.” The big man let go of Luke and turned away.
Luke sat down hard because his legs shook so violently they refused to hold him upright. The tears he’d fought against earlier rose hot and bitter. Anguish roiled through him and he sobbed helplessly, beyond caring if it made him look weak. Marta and Lilly hovered, trying to stand in for the father and mother all of them had lost.
“Once you’re a bit better, you’ll be coming with me.” Aethelred spoke as if it were fact.
Throat thick, Luke swiped ineffectually at his streaming eyes with a bandaged hand. “I can’t,” he croaked. His littlest sister, the one he’d sworn to protect, was lost to him. “I’ve got to take care of them.” He gestured toward Marta and Lilly wedged on either side of him.
“Where would you be taking him?” Joad asked, and pushed a hand through his thick, dark hair streaked with gray. His brown eyes caught the wizard’s gaze and held it.
“To my school.”
Joad nodded. Exchanging glances with his wife, he blew out a sharp breath. “Me and Clare, we thought as much when we saw all them lights out in the yard. We’ll look after the girls and both farms till Luke can get back here. Least we can do.”
Shaking long, gray hair out of her lined face, Clare echoed, “Yes, it’s the least we can do.”
“I couldn’t let you,” Luke protested. “My family’s my responsibility.”
“Go, son,” Joad said. “Soon as you’re strong enough. Things will be all right here.”
A strange desire mingled with Luke’s grief. It was so foreign it took him a few moments to sort it out, to realize he wanted to learn about magic, needed to learn. Just like he needed to eat and breathe. Whatever he’d awakened in the cave called to him, sang to him, dared him to pluck the strings holding his inner knowledge captive.
“I feel it too, lad.” Weariness creased Aethelred’s forehead, yet his eyes shone with hope. “It won’t go away. You have no choice after tonight. The call, it comes to each of us in its own fashion. The way your magic found you, well, it was harsher than most.” He exhaled softly, his dark eyes full of warmth as they rested on Luke. “Rest now. There’s time yet before we must leave.”
Luke’s eyelids felt suddenly heavy and he let them close. The warmth stealing about him was probably Aethelred’s doing, but he didn’t fight it. Burned, weary, and heart sore, he called up images of his parents and sister. Once he’d bid them farewell, he let the wizard’s spell carry him away.
~~~~~~~~~~
Luke’s story doesn’t end here. If you enjoyed this short story, which was a Northwest Artists contest winner, you can keep right on reading in Blood and Magic, book one of the Coven Enforcer series. Here’s a link for more information. Also available in print and audio.
The Wolf Next Door
Miranda flicked a spot of lint off the hem of her black suit as she fidgeted in a straight-backed chair. Her eyes darted longingly at more comfortable chairs scattered about the plush office, but she’d been told to wait right where she was. And so she did. A corner of her mouth twitched, and she reminded herself this was nothing compared with other tests Rubicon International had set for her. She’d completed all of them; at least she thought she had. Now she was about to find out what would happen next. For the briefest of moments, her mouth half-opened, panting in anticipation. Then she pulled her tongue back in and got a grip on that side of her nature. Thank Lucifer it was daylight. Had it been past twilight, the wolf part of her would have been much harder—if not well-nigh impossible—to keep under wraps.
Rubicon International didn’t know about her secret, and she aimed to keep it that way.
A shudder coursed through her. No one ever returned after their final interview with the chairman. Either they were elevated to the inner circle running the company, or they disappeared. What happened to the ones who failed? Were they...disposed of in some neat but nameless way? The way she’d dispatched others on Rubicon’s orders. No one ever told her exactly what to do, only that someone had become extraneous.
That was the word they used.
Extraneous.
They never gave her a name, but
told her exactly where she could find her targets. And what they looked like so there’d be no mistakes. A thin string of saliva materialized out of nowhere, courtesy of her wolf. She hastily wiped it away, taking care not to smear her lipstick.
Near the small of her back a familiar sensation nagged at her. Her tail was trying its damnedest to swish back and forth. Because sitting wasn’t working for her, she rose to her feet, swiveling her head to relax the iron bar of tension that had settled just between her shoulder blades. Most of the time her human form was comfortable, but not today. Stress always had that effect, though. It brought her closer to the primal parts of herself. The parts that could morph into flashing canines at a moment’s notice. Her lips curved into a predatory smile until she caught a glimpse of herself in an ornate mirror. The lupine cast to her features was disturbing enough, she took a couple of ragged breaths as she forced the more rounded planes of her normal, “Miranda” look back into place. Patting her cheekbones to ensure her face stayed that way, she wondered again just what the chairman had in mind for her today.
Even in her human form, her senses were preternaturally sharp, and she caught the sound of distant footsteps. Miranda recognized the pattern and cadence of those steps and folded back into her assigned seat. The chairman was coming. It wouldn’t do for him find her anywhere other than where she was supposed to be. Seconds later the door opened with its metallic, whooshing sound as the electronics were activated.
“Ah, right on time as always, my dear.” The chairman, with his full head of gray-black hair and cold, blue eyes, fixed his steely gaze on her. He was razor thin and impeccably dressed in his usual dark suit, white shirt, and blue tie. Finely chiseled features included a strong, square chin and sculpted cheekbones, but today he looked tired. Lines creased his forehead, and day-old stubble peppered his cheeks. There had been times when she’d thought him...attractive, but there were rumors he preferred men. And young ones at that. Besides, sex always caused at least a partial transformation, so she’d never seriously considered flirting with him. Or anyone else for that matter.