“I’d like to see you too,” she said. “But you’re leaving soon, right?”
He laid a flat palm against the door frame, leaning towards her. Light ribbons of heat stroked her neck. His heat. His beautiful, inviting warmth. “Maybe,” he said. “If nothing keeps me here.”
“What would…keep you here?”
“This place. The freedom that comes with it. The beauty of the countryside. The open sky. And you.”
Gently he pressed his lips to hers; tender, inviting, caring. She felt herself falling, spinning downwards, a bird in flight that had lost its abilities. His hand was on her cheek and she moved into him, pressing herself forward, feeling his every inch of heat against her.
“I see,” she said as she eased away. “I see.”
As she watched him go, her heart seemed to melt and shatter at once; a piece of silver which had gone hot and cold in her chest.
She wanted nothing more than to keep him in Woodland Creek. And yet she knew that she had no choice but to push him far, far away.
7
“Ranach,” said Ashling when she saw the old man the next morning. “I need you to tell me about my parents.”
The silversmith sighed, pulling up a stool, and sat down heavily, his shoulders stooped in surrender to forces beyond his control.
“I’m not surprised that you’re asking, and particularly now,” he said. “I have known for an age that this day would come. But your parents are only the tip of a very large iceberg, Ashling. Are you truly prepared to delve under the surface and learn more?”
She pondered his question for a moment. All her life she’d felt like the odd one out; the ugly duckling in a world of swans. Now it seemed that she had a chance to find her place in the world.
“Yes,” she said. “Whatever you throw my way, it’ll be better than living in the dark another day.”
The old man stood and wandered to a cabinet that he always kept locked, in which he stored jewels, precious stones and the like. But today when he opened it, he extracted an old photo album.
“This relic,” he said, laying it on the table in front of her, “is from the time when photographs were printed on paper.”
“I remember. I’m not that young.”
He opened it, revealing first a picture of her parents, together and happy.
“They loved you,” he said. “Even before you were born they asked me to look after you should anything happen, as if they already knew.”
“Knew what?”
“That they would be removed somehow from you. That at some point you would be isolated, vulnerable.”
“Vulnerable to what? The cold? Hunger?”
“Among other things. But mostly vulnerable to those who search for your kind.”
“My kind? You’re talking like I’m an endangered species.”
“That’s because you are.” Ranach looked at her from under his bushy eyebrows. “Ashling, if there’s one thing I know about you it’s that you would like to figure out your place in this universe. And I have avoided helping you with that, if only for your own protection. You will be far easier to locate when you come fully into your powers, you see.”
“Powers? Like starting fires out of the blue? Melting silver and gold with my bare hands? More a curse than power, don’t you think?”
“That’s the beginning,” he said. “Only the beginning. You have not yet transformed, and I suppose that I should help you to do so. But only if it’s truly what you want.” Ranach stood, his eyes locked on hers. Suddenly he seemed taller than ever before. “Is it what you wish for, Ashling?”
“Yes,” she said, though she had no idea what he meant. She would have given anything to understand.
The old man closed his eyes and spread his arms wide, the dim light of the workshop altering to sunlight. The walls seemed to melt, the ceiling disappear and all of sudden she stood with him in an open field.
“This is the best place for this discussion,” he said. “The grass is moist, the air pure and no one is around to see.”
How on earth had this happened? Ashling felt as though she’d wandered unwittingly into a dream; the strangest one she’d ever had. Was this her doing, or his?
“The best place for what? Please, are you going to tell me what we’re doing here?”
“Your fire,” said Ranach. “Do you recall the first time that it occurred?”
Ashling let her mind travel to that first time, in his studio. The faded memory, a blur of images, of sensations. The surrealism of recalling experiences from one’s youth that may or may not have ever occurred.
“What were you feeling then, and every time since?”
“Anger, hurt, I suppose. Abandoned by my parents. I felt alone.”
“Good. Intensity is the key, then. You felt intensely. But you need to learn to control your emotions as well as the fire. And I can see that you have already begun to train yourself. Fresh burn marks on the studio wall are fairly strong evidence of that.”
“I wanted to see if it could be controlled. All my life I’ve been afraid of it, Ranach. I wanted to know if I actually had any power over the flames, or if they would control me.”
“You must learn to use your power in positive ways. Because the flames don’t come from rage; they are simply a part of you. Of what you are.”
“And what am I?” she asked, her voice weak, deflated. “I’ve always known that I’m an oddity. I’ve always known that I don’t belong. But you’re saying I’m something else?”
“You are a shifter, Ashling. More specifically, a shape-shifter. One of the magical species of this world.”
She wondered if his mind had gone in his old age. “A shape-shifter? What are you talking about? You mean I can turn into a bookshelf?”
“I mean that you can turn into something far more beautiful than that. If you learn how. Come, sit down for a moment.” He laid down the jacket that he’d been carrying on the damp grass and gestured to Ashling to take a seat, doing the same next to her.
“In this town,” he began, “Are what we call ley-lines, areas of land which have mystical attributes. You have felt them, I know; I am aware of your attachment to the earth, to the outdoors, though you may never have deduced why you are so attached. Anyhow, these areas bring out the magic in us, and those with special properties gravitate to such places as Woodland Creek.”
“There are…others?”
“Yes, and there always have been. You have always felt like an outsider, I know. But you have never been alone, Ashling. Never. I must tell you, though. The people that you consider ‘normal.’ The humans — they don’t know about your kind.”
“But you say that I’m a shape-changer. I don’t understand…”
“Your parents trusted me with you because they knew what you are. Because they were of the same sort as you. You come from their blood. But the shifters are a hidden species. You understand — you call yourself a freak. So you know that others feel the same way. But in this very town are many like you. Those who can change into cats, bears, even water creatures.”
“How can I not have known this?”
“Because all your life you’ve tried to be normal. To fit in. You’ve never noticed that ‘fitting in’ has quite a different meaning here. Oh, yes. There are many young people who don’t understand; who see your fire-starting as terrifying behaviour. But there are others — some whom you know well — who understand. Why do you think I had you come work for me, in an underground bunker? I know that you need a safe environment.”
“So all along you’ve known. But if you say I’m one of these…shifters…what will I turn into?”
Ranach looked into the distance. “That I can’t tell you, though I have my suspicions. If it’s what I think then you are one of the ancient kind. One of the special breed. You will not be a simple house cat or a lizard; that is certain.”
“Ranach, how does this happen? How do I change?”
“For most of your kind it comes naturally, but then most are ra
ised into it, taught from a young age what they are. I have kept the truth from you in order to protect you, and to abide by your parents’ wishes. You see, your kind is sought after by some, and difficult to hide. There are those who would perceive you as particuarly dangerous. And I have always wanted to shield you from harm. But I have wondered at times if I was doing more harm than good, allowing you to feel so much like an outsider in your own community.”
She went quiet for a few moments, uncertain of her emotions. Her hands, flat on the ground, glowed faintly, causing the drops of water on the grass to sizzle quietly.
“Are you angry with me?” Ranach asked.
“No,” she said. “Of course not. I know — I’ve always known — that you wanted to protect me. I didn’t entirely know from what, of course. But now that you’re telling me…this is a lot to take in, you understand.”
“Of course. I know that all too well. But now that you know, we need to get your skills in check. You will be a danger to yourself and others otherwise. And now that you are spending time with a certain young man…”
“You know about that?”
“Absolutely. A wizard knows all.”
8
“Wizard?” By now, Ashling felt that she was falling through her prolonged dream, her head spinning. “What are you saying?”
“Shifters aren’t the only ones attracted to a place such as this. We wizards need magical landscapes as well.”
“You’re…Gandalf?”
Ranach laughed. “Don’t I wish,” he said. “Though my eyebrows are nearly long enough to be his younger brother. I don’t have the hat, though.”
“So you’re essentially telling me that Woodland Creek is home to wizards as well as shifters. That I’ve somehow never known this.”
“Yes. And imagine what a pain it’s been to keep it from you, and how difficult it is for the shifters to keep it from the normal folk.”
“Normal folk,” said Ashling. She smiled. “I always wanted to be one of them. Normal, average. And now, suddenly, I’m not so sure.”
“I’m glad,” said Ranach. “Now, do something for me: close your eyes.”
Ashling obeyed, sealing them shut as the sunlight tried to penetrate her eyelids, causing her inner world to glow orange.
“Try and shut out images of what you’ve seen, of the trees and the grass. Empty your field of vision.”
“All right, I’ll try.”
“Now create a blank canvas. Black or grey — just see nothing, if you can.”
A moment later she replied. “Got it.”
“I’m going to show you something,” he said. “Keep those eyes shut.”
As though a film were being screened in her mind, a large book appeared before her: leatherbound, thick. On its cover were no words; just the image of a bird portrayed in some sort in gold leaf, its wings and tail seeming to trail in flames behind it.
Ashling envisioned herself opening the book, and inside once again she found that there were no words: only pictures in vivid colours. More flames, this time moving, burning in beautiful waves on the page itself.
She gasped.
“It’s all right,” said Ranach. “Keep looking.”
From the flames emerged a bird like the one she’d seen on the cover, shooting into the sky. It soared off into the distance, a trail of embers in its wake. And then it was gone.
She turned the page, but the images had disappeared. Only blank sheets of parchment lay before her. Once again her eyes opened.
“What did I see?”
“You saw what you might become,” he said. “And though I have my suspicions, I don’t want you to tell me. It is to you to discover, when you’re ready. Just be aware, Ashling, that there is danger alongside your world.”
Danger.
She thought of Hawke in that moment. He might be willing to accept her as he knew her, but he didn’t know this: that she was truly a freak of nature. As exciting as it might be to gain the ability to morph into something other than a human, he was just a man. He wouldn’t — couldn’t — understand this.
Still, something inside her felt liberated. At last, she was beginning to know what she was. She almost had an identity for the first time in her life. A shifter — and there were others like her, in this very town. How had she not known this? No doubt she’d even grown up with some of them.
“How can I tell,” she began, “Who’s my enemy, and who’s an ally?”
“You can’t, not always. There is good and bad in everything. But you will find that you learn to better trust your instincts. Listen to them and heed them, because they’re your greatest ally. If you meet someone who makes you feel comfortable and comforted, chances are good that they’re a friend. Likewise for the reverse.”
“There was a man, the other night. Outside the bar. He said some very strange things…”
“Yes, and there will be more. You have the power to defend yourself, Ashling; to be all but invincible against threat. But you need to learn to trust in it, and in yourself. Be kind to yourself. This is not an easy life.”
Ashling felt tears well up in her eyes; whether from sadness or joy was difficult to tell.
“Will it ever get easy?” she asked.
“Something tells me that it will get easier,” he replied with a warm smile. “And that it already has. Remember to accept people into your life. Stop pushing them away.”
“I’ll try,” she said. “You’re talking about Hawke, aren’t you?”
“Perhaps. Don’t reject the young man because you feel that you and he are too different.”
“What do you mean? Because I’m a shifter, or because he’s a movie star?”
“Either one is the result of prejudice, isn’t it? Judging him for not being enough like you is unfair. And so is the assumption that he’ll reject you for being who you are. Remember that. Be open to the possibilities.”
Ranach was right. She’d been doing exactly that — finding reasons to push Hawke away: that she wasn’t good enough, that he didn’t know what she was really like. But for once, there was someone in her life who seemed to like her as she was, and she should learn to embrace that gift.
But this wasn’t a simple matter. Hawke had a life, a reputation to uphold. If she was a shifter, as Ranach said, it would have all sorts of implications for her life. She would have to keep her true nature hidden in order to protect those around her. And for someone like Hawke, constantly in the public eye, it was a simple impossibility.
She forced herself to put a halt to the series of thoughts. She’d been on one pseudo-date with the guy, after all; it wasn’t as though they were engaged to be married. Maybe she could put a stop to things before they became any more serious.
Maybe she had to.
9
Ashling’s phone rang again that afternoon. But this time, it wasn’t Hawke. The number was one that she didn’t recognize; no doubt another cell phone.
“Hello?” she said, her voice hesitant.
“Ashling,” said the confident voice on the other end. “It’s Wayne. We met last night.”
“Oh, right. You’re the location scout.”
“That’s right. Listen, Hawke is busy today but he told me I might get you to show me the wooded area outside of town. He said it might work very well for one of our scenes.”
“Um, sure. I mean, I’m supposed to run some errands, but maybe around four I could meet you there? There’s a stream not too far from the east end of the parking lot at...”
“I know just what you mean. That sounds great. Four it is, then.”
“Sure. I’ll see you there.”
The truth was that she’d hardly gotten any work done all day; her mind had been filled with thoughts about the previous night — her too-brief time spent with Hawke — and with what Ranach had said earlier.
Hawke, like Ranach, had hinted that she was special, and that he knew something. But he didn’t know what her mentor did. How could he? The old wizard had said th
at humans were out of the inner circle of shifters, unaware of her kind.
But then, Hawke had been on the verge of kissing her when he’d said those things. Maybe he was just paying her a compliment when he’d spoken of her specialness.
Ranach, on the other hand, had told her of her legacy, of a fate that seemed to be tied to her very genes. A life ahead that was unlike what she’d ever imagined she could face. She was an even bigger freak than she’d ever thought — but at least now she had some answers; an explanation for her strange abilities. And to think that there were others like her, to know that she wasn’t alone. It was all reassuring, if shocking. She was part of something greater than herself. Something magical, even.
But as for Hawke — if he learned the truth, he would run a thousand miles. That she was one of these mysterious shape-shifters who lurked in shadows, who congregated in Woodland Creek and hid themselves in broad daylight. And if she got involved with him, how could she possibly hide it from him? It seemed, from what Ranach had said, that her life was on a path of change. She was no longer weird little Ashling Jones. She was something remarkable, and would continue to develop.
Well, at least she was potentially remarkable. The fact remained that she’d never changed into anything at all. She was a shifter who didn’t shift; all she did was burn things.
But in the end, she had to accept it: for the first time in her life she felt genuinely excited about the future. She had something to look forward to, even if it was a little frightening. She had a purpose, and her life was beginning to make sense. Maybe the fact was that she belonged right here in Woodland Creek. Maybe it was the “normal” people that she’d once envied so much who didn’t belong. This place was threaded with magic, and she would learn to manipulate it as she manipulated molten silver, shaping the powers to fit into this new world — a world of her own making.
And at 3:45, stepping back into a world of the normal and the mundane, she found herself heading towards the creek to meet the location scout. As she walked, her stomach braided itself into nervous knots of anticipation. Something about the meeting was making her anxious. It occurred to her that this was likely a result of the fact that Wayne knew Hawke well. And after all, she still wanted to make a good impression on him.
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