L.O.S.T. Trilogy Box Set

by R. S. Collins

  With the protective wards restricting travel, every witch in every Sanctuary needed our help to get to safety if they were attacked. Not good. Not good at all. With the Erlking making trouble and Beltane getting so close, I couldn’t help thinking that we needed something better. Jazz and I had too much on our hands. But there was no time. There never seemed to be any time.

  When we finally reached the entrance to the 1965 Sanctuary, I drew cloaks around the three of us and our slithers before we left the Path, then sealed the energy ribbon behind us.

  We turned toward the Sanctuary and pulled our slithers up short as we studied the quiet town spread out before us. My heart pounded against my breastbone. The whole place looked abandoned.

  What the heck?

  Jazz had been nervous about this place a couple of days back, but she hadn’t found any problems on her last patrol.

  The lonely whine of wind sounded through cracks in the walls of the once-thriving hippie village. Art commune. Whatever they called it. Shutters banged against wood and I heard the plunk, plunk, plunk of dripping water. The streets were empty. It looked as if everyone had just left in a hurry.

  I shot my gaze to Rol and Acaw who in turn looked at me.

  Rol rubbed his bald head. “This does not bode well.”

  Acaw’s crow-brother squawked, and the sound bounced from lonely wall to wall to wall.

  One of those walls flickered, then disappeared. The crow-brother shot upward, flapping and screeching. Rol’s and Acaw’s slithers stepped back. Rol made signs of warding as I drew my sword.

  What in the—

  Eerie music started. So soft and sweet, but not like anything I had ever heard before. I shivered and blinked. Those notes—it felt like they were trying to put a sock on my brain. Not like a klatchKeeper’s song, no. More like a sleep-the-sleep-of-the-dead song.

  Acaw muttered spells as his crow-brother kept up a racket. All that screeching kept me from concentrating on the music too much, which was probably a good thing.

  “What is it?” I called.

  “We do not know,” Rol admitted. Then he went back to chanting his own spells.

  Another wall flickered and faded. On impulse, I drew my sword and pointed my blade in that direction. Silver-gold light immediately blazed and shot toward the spot where the wall had been-and the music stopped.

  The wall reappeared with a loud crack.

  For a second, I thought I heard a different kind of music then, more like a klatchKeeper singing, but I knew I had to be imagining things.

  As my thoughts cleared, I felt pulled in two directions. The weird, vanishing Sanctuary—we needed to investigate. But the rescue…somewhere close, a witch was in trouble.

  Maybe a survivor of what had happened in the village? Whatever. We definitely had to save the witch first.

  I said some spells of my own to strengthen the Sanctuary’s ties to the Path, then motioned to Rol and Acaw. “Come on. We’ll have to deal with this later, after the rescue. I’ll talk to Jazz and she’ll scope it out in spirit form to see what we might be missing with flesh-and-blood eyes.”

  They both nodded and pointed their slithers toward the skyscrapers outlined in the Eastern sky. New York City.

  Out of trouble, into trouble. I sighed. So what’s new?

  I gave one last look at the forlorn village before turning my attention toward my slither. “Let’s hit the clouds, buddy, before it’s too late.”

  Firestorm pumped his powerful wings. Dirt swirled beneath us and wind rushed over my face as he took to the air. Riding a slither was unlike anything I could begin to explain. The wildness of it, the freedom. The only thing better was my new Harley, but not by much. The Harley was one thing I let myself have, like regular old T-shirts and jeans, computers, televisions, and stereos. Oh, and music. Who could handle hag-chanting?

  Rol and Acaw followed me on Rock and Ironblood. The dragons made low grumbling noises, their way of communicating. We moved faster than fast, powered by mammoth wings and the special magic of the giant winged lizards. In no time we reached the big city. I hadn’t been to New York City of the twenty-first century for a while, but it had sure changed in the forty-plus years since 1965. There were a lot fewer tall buildings in this New York, or at least it seemed that way. And not as much glass and shiny metal. And Times Square, talk about different. No flashing Trinitrons and scrolling marquis for one. But I didn’t have time to really think about it. We had a witch to rescue.

  The Slithers circled the city as I yanked the paper with the specific location from my pocket. I shouted out the street names and we followed the map on the page. I squinted, looking for the flare of a witch on top of a building.

  “There.” I jabbed my finger toward a building where a kid was crouched, hiding behind some rooftop equipment. The glow he gave off—was it silver?—let me know right away that he was our witch. I guided my mount faster toward the building when I saw a gang of deadbeats nearing the kid’s hiding place.

  They laughed and waved around a baseball bat. Oh, yeah. Real tough to beat up a little kid six-on-one-with a bat. My jaw clenched. Sensing how pissed I was, Firestorm let out a growl. One of the gang brats froze and looked around.

  “May I intervene, Your Majesty?” Rol’s growl was almost as low and loud as the slither’s.

  I had to smile. And did I ever want to say yes, then show those pukes how to really use a bat. But I shook my head. “Not yet.”

  The rooftop trembled with each thud as the slithers landed. The guys in the gang stopped cold and looked around. A couple of them dropped their smartass expressions. The one with the bat raised it a little higher.

  “What the—” bat guy started to say just as I released the shield from around the three slithers.

  I almost laughed when the jerks completely freaked. Bat guy started yelling and swinging, bashing his own crew. As for the crew, they went ghost white and shouted. One of them ran in circles. My big, scaly ride gave a low roar and stretched his neck out so that his head was practically in bat guy’s face. Smoke puffed from Firestorm’s nostrils and the boy’s “Oh, sh—” was drowned out by my slither’s sudden screech.

  He threw down the bat and ran. The rest of the jerks took off right behind him. They bolted for the open door leading to a stairwell. I thought about using my magic to trip them up and make them take a tumble down those steps, but figured that wouldn’t be exactly kingly of me.

  “Too bad none had the courage to stay,” Rol said in that growling voice. “I would have liked to discover what they know about hand fighting.”

  Acaw’s crow-brother gave a shriek as the last guy vanished through the stairwell. “We are uncloaked,” the elf said. “We should not linger.”

  “Yeah. Right.” I slid off my mount and sauntered around the corner to where I’d seen the kid hiding. “He’s over here somewhere.”

  “Youngling!” Rol boomed, like that was going to help the kid not panic. I shushed him with a wave, then called out, “It’s okay. We’re here to help.”

  The kid remained silent.

  I got closer and let my silver glow shimmer over my skin. “Listen, the jerks are gone. I’ll make sure they don’t bother you anymore.”

  A slight intake of breath.

  I rounded the corner and faced the boy, who was in a big heap with his head covered.

  “Believe me, I’m a friend—” My words got all crammed up in my throat as the kid raised his head.

  He made eye contact with me and I couldn’t help stepping back.

  It couldn’t be. It wasn’t.

  But…

  The kid looked almost identical to Todd. Only this guy was about three years younger than my brother.

  And his glow, it was silver like my brother’s and mine.

  “Your Majesty,” Acaw said loudly from behind me. “We must go. Now.”

  The kid blinked at me and stood up. “Are you—are you a witch? A real one like me?”

  All I could do was nod and hold out my
hand. He walked toward me, scared-like and nervous, but his mouth had that determined set I’d seen so many times on my younger brother’s face.

  As the boy took my hand, I glanced down to see a heavy chain around his neck with a purple stone hanging from it.

  A Circle stone.

  He dug in his pocket, then brought out his hand and uncurled his fingers. Lying on his palm was another Circle stone—this one rainbow-shaded and attached to a thick gold chain.

  “I think,” the Todd look-alike said as he held his hand up higher, “this is for you.”

  “Um, yeah. Okay.” I reached out and took the stone—and the kid fainted.

  ***

  Chapter Four

  I didn’t intend to sit for long in the glen. I only wanted to rest my feet, my eyes and refresh myself after the trials of the morning. Sparkles of light danced on the pond, and a gentle breeze teased grass and leaves into cheerful whispers. So beautiful. So peaceful. I leaned forward and grasped my legs, resting my head on my knees. The sun felt warm on my back as I closed my eyes.

  Sleep claimed me all too easily.

  Seconds later, I smelled it. Something wrong. Off. Coppery and sweet and dreadful. Blood, and lots of it.

  My eyes flew open, but I saw nothing.

  “Goddess.” I got up in a hurry.

  Where had the sun gone? It was black as death, black as nothing. Black as Shadows choking out all light and happiness. Dank air wove in and out of huge, swaying shapes.

  Plants. Giant plants. Trees. Inky grasses that reached above my head.

  Help me …

  “Todd?” I lurched forward, hands outstretched, willing spells of light that refused to leave my fingertips. “Where are you?”

  Help us …

  The voice came from everywhere. Right, left, before, behind—I stumbled forward, slamming into leaves and vines and stems as big around as tree trunks.

  Someone was weeping. Children. Children were crying all around me.

  Help … help …

  “Todd!” I yelled spells for light, for finding, for ceasing. Nothing worked. The vines striking my face and hands got stickier. Thorns dug at my cheeks and chin. The grasses and stems crowded in on me. The children wailed. I cried with them. Where were they? I had to find them. Had to!

  Todd called out again and again and I couldn’t stop running toward the sound, but it moved, and it moved, and I couldn’t find him. I couldn’t find anything.

  “Todd! Todd!”

  I screamed again.

  And woke from the dream. I fell back as sunlight struck my eyes. My breath came in short hitches. I scrubbed my palms against my cheeks, but my hands came away clean and bloodless. No thorny rips. No vine-milk or leaves. Only my own tears.

  Dreaming. Again. The nightmare, again. I always ran and ran through the jungle, but never found Todd or the sobbing children.

  Slowly, I sat up. Then I shook my head to clear it. I needed to see the healers about a sleeping draught. I couldn’t go on like this, tortured every time I closed my eyes.

  The healers. Yes. I stood and shook out my arms. Then I stretched my legs. Later. Maybe in the afternoon, after lessons with the Circle. For now, I was late.

  I didn’t even get two full hours of peace. In fact, I heard the screams just after the singing started.

  “Damn the fates!” I jumped up, leaving Helden and two hags in charge of working with the Circle. “Those infernal klatch witches again.” I reached my hand to the sky. “Wind!”

  A loud crack and whistling announced the arrival of the live oak branch I had summoned. I leaped aboard and took off, shooting toward the far reaches of oldeTowne, to the spot where the Dana’Kell priests labored at their gardens and temple construction. Cool spring breezes whipped against my face and knotted my hair, but I was in no mood to appreciate the pleasant weather. It wasn’t even midday, and already, somebody was trying to eat somebody else in L.O.S.T.

  Another beautiful day in the neighborhood. That’s what Bren would say.

  What I said—well, best not to repeat it—but I was still letting loose a fine stream of words when I came flaming down to land between three full klatchKovens and a clump of terrified priests. The holy men, dressed in red robes, had their arms covering their hooded heads, and they were trembling. Those not already mesmerized and crawling toward the klatch witches, at least. Quinn, their high priest, resisted bravely, but even his knees had begun to tremble and bend.

  I whirled on the three Keepers, who beneath their veil of human beauty showed purple jowls double-lined with wicked teeth. One of them was even drooling.

  “Stop this nonsense immediately. We haven’t time for this sort of dissention!” I pointed my hands at them and let my blended gold and silver magic crackle for emphasis. “No singing. And no eating people!”

  “They are not people, they are red priests.” The lead Keeper summoned her young klatch witches closer with a single curl of her deadly, clawed fingers and hissed, “Stand aside and let us do what must be done before it is too late.”

  “You will not harm these refugees. They were tortured Shadows until a few months ago.” I let a rope of my magic encircle the klatch witches, leaving the three Keepers free. I was angry and nervous, but not insane. A direct attack on the Keepers might fracture what little unity we had managed to build amongst modern witches and the oldeFolke. “What they have been through, for centuries, no less, is unimaginable. Why must you persist in torturing them?”

  “They were not tortured,” the Keepers sang together in eerie harmony. My skin prickled at the sound, and at the relentlessly murderous look in the Keepers’ eyes.

  “They were tortured along with every other Shadow I freed from Alderon’s dark grasp.” My jaw clenched at the memory of Bren’s foul half-brother, and how I had battled him to the death near this very spot.

  “We must destroy the Dana’Kell,” crooned the Keepers, again as one, as if they recited some ancient passage in a scroll. “We must destroy the Dana’Kell.”

  “Please, help us.” Quinn struggled to his feet, looking exhausted and terrified. “Whatever quarrel they may have had with our kind, it’s long in the past, Your Majesty. We want only peace and solitude, to build our temple and our meditation gardens and assist in the coming battle at Beltane.”

  To the Keepers, he said, “I beg your forgiveness for whatever wrongs the Dana’Kell did you in ancient days. Please understand, we are not those priests. We are but hostages freed from evil, wanting to recover our lives and atone for wrongs we committed in Shadow form.”

  The three Keepers hesitated for about three seconds, then lunged forward, horrible jaws unhinged.

  “Cease!” I commanded, both hands raised, doing my best to limit the geographical scope of my spell.

  Everything around me came to a complete halt. The klatch witches froze within their magical bonds. The Keepers hung in the air, claws extended, drool suspended, teeth flashing in the bright spring sun. The Dana’Kell remained in various stages of breaking out of the klatchKoven’s spell. At my count, there were ten in this group. Some were sitting, some were kneeling. A few like Quinn had managed to stand. Quinn was much taller than the others, with long golden brown hair and features so finely honed he looked like he had the blood of the lost fae races running through his veins.

  Odd, but his eyes seemed to change shade as I gazed at him, even though whatever magic charmed them should have been stilled. And they seemed bright, almost aware, despite the power in my spell. Aware … and a little angry.

  Goddess, I was letting myself get too tired. I only focused on such minutiae when I got so exhausted I couldn’t keep my thoughts collected. I rubbed the bridge of my nose and resisted an urge to blast Keeper drool into oblivion.

  If I let myself start cleaning and straightening, there would be nothing left in all of L.O.S.T. when I finished. No. No, no, no. I needed to concentrate, think through the problem, and implement a solution. There was nothing more to be done. OldeFolke hated to be
spelled, even by their queen. Perhaps especially by their queen. Any caught inadvertently in my command would leave a load of wicked messages for me in the box outside my mother’s home, where I lived. Worse yet, the messages would repeat themselves until I listened to each one.

  Shadowhispers. Great. Whoever came up with that idea should be exiled to a Sanctuary full of slither dung. Give me a stack of nice, quiet, handwritten nasty notes any day.

  The longer I left these oldeFolke immobile, the more snarling whispers would fill my box.

  So, I got started.

  First the klatch witches. I released their bonds and set them free from my ceasing spell just before I sent them all back to their lairs in the darker reaches of oldeTowne where they lived, along with some small game to satisfy their appetites. The Keepers went next, one at a time, so I could control them as I worked the sending spell. None of them were too happy. I could tell from the fire in their eyes that they would soon be back. I’d have to find more permanent protection for the Dana’Kell, but what? If I sent them to some other place or time, no doubt other klatchKovens would find them.

  “Resume,” I commanded, releasing the spell completely.

  Quinn lurched forward, hands up, frowning. His color-shifting eyes searched the air where the klatchKeepers had been. Then his furious gaze came to rest on me. Immediately, his features softened. He offered a courteous bow.

  “My thanks, Queen Jasmina.” He straightened and brought the other nine priests to attention with a clap of his hands. “You have kept faith with us, but no doubt the klatch witches will return.”

  I managed a smile at him, and a courteous, “You’re welcome,” even though his unspoken question hung in the air.

  What will you do to keep us safe, Your Majesty?

  Despite my best efforts at self-control, I sighed. Where was Bren? Probably playing with swords or off on some rescue. And Mother would be with the orphaned Shadow children. Acaw and Rol—who knew? Why did I always have to be alone with decisions like this?