Sweet Shadows
Page 61
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When my fingers first brush the gold, I feel a tingle. Kind of like the shock of static electricity. Just a little spark.
Emboldened, I clamp my fist around the whole thing. Instantly it feels like I’ve stuck my finger in a light socket. Flash after flash of pure energy jolts through me, over me, around me.
My brain swirls with the same kind of hazy image I saw earlier in Contemporary Civilization, only there is no solid object at the center. As much as I try to focus my mind, to rein in all the racing thoughts, I feel that I’m in free fall. Bursts of momentary clarity.
Knife.
Blood.
Prayer.
Then things turn darker. Amid the shadows I see glinting steel and tearing claws. Flesh shredded, bodies piled, deafening roar. It’s like a vortex of blackness, of evil. And high above, I see streaks of purple and gold.
I can’t draw breath. I feel like I’m drowning in air. The images narrow, shrinking down to a—
“Greer!”
My eyes flash open. Grace is screaming, leaning over me with a desperate look in her eyes. Her hands grip my shoulders, shaking me as if she’s trying to bring me back to consciousness. To life.
I struggle to breathe for a minute, my eyes never leaving hers. Silver to silver. She’s like my anchor, keeping me conscious and rooted in this world. Saving me from drifting back into that dark place that almost claimed me.
Finally, when I feel that I have control of myself and my mind, I say, “What?”
“What?” she echoes. “What! Are you kidding me?”
She moves off me and pulls me to a sitting position.
“You were screaming in terror,” she says. “Gasping like you couldn’t breathe. Your eyes rolled back into your head and—”
I place a hand over hers. “I’m fine.”
“Fine?” She shakes her head. “Thanks to me. I had to yank this out of your hand.”
She holds up the pendant, letting it dangle from her fingertips like a poisonous snake.
“I know,” I say, pushing shakily to my feet. “Thank you.”
Things are falling into place, the unconnected puzzle pieces clicking together to form a comprehensible picture.
I don’t have time to think about that dark, scary place. Of where I might have ended up if Grace hadn’t pulled me back. Right now, we have to save our sister.
“I know how to get to the abyss,” I say. “I need a knife.”
I can almost feel Grace’s eyes follow me as I disappear upstairs. Moments later I return from the kitchen with a small paring knife. If I’m interpreting the visions clearly, this is what needs to be done.
“Why do you need a knife?” Grace asks.
“I’m going to open a portal.”
“Then what?” she asks.
“Then …” I hadn’t thought of that. “Then we go in after Gretchen.”
“Just like that?” Her eyes widen. “We’ll need supplies. Who knows what’s waiting for us in there.”
She’s being practical. And she’s right, we shouldn’t go in without supplies.
I nod. We take a few minutes to gather some essentials. I retrieve a long-forgotten backpack from the depths of my closet, and we fill it with bottled water, granola bars, a pair of steak knives, and a handful of zip ties from the household toolbox. When we feel prepared, we return to the basement.
Grace pulls the backpack onto her shoulders and I grip the knife in my left hand.
Our eyes meet, we exchange a nod, and I draw the blade over my right palm. I clench my jaw to keep from wincing at the pain. I move the knife to my right hand and repeat the action, drawing a line of blood on my left palm. I toss the knife aside.
With a little prayer that this works, I clasp my two palms together.
At first, nothing happens. I stare at my steepled hands. Just the feel of blood against blood. Maybe I read the images wrong, or the images were about something else, or—
“Omigosh,” Grace gasps.
I look up and see a black spot right in front of me. As we stand there, watching, the spot grows. It looks exactly like the portal Sthenno was dragged into, just like the one Gretchen dived into. It grows until it is nearly as tall as the ceiling and as wide as a set of double doors.
I take an instinctive step back.
Grace steps up to my side.
“Ready?” she asks.
Am I? I have to be. “Yes.”
She takes my hand in hers and, together, we take a step toward the portal.
CHAPTER 24
GRETCHEN
We set out through the crack, a group of six, leaving the brightness of the cave for the darkness of the cavern. The golden maiden and I are accompanied by another pair of those obsidian-like guardians, Sillus, and a winged horse, a pegasus. The unicorn, whose name I’ve learned is Lex, stayed behind because the light from his horn might draw too much attention. Apparently, where we’re going, staying under the radar is mission critical.
The pegasus is a majestic thing. Sleek and silver gray, his wings fold tight against his body as we walk. I remember enough of Ursula’s mythology lessons to know that the pegasus is also a descendant of Medusa. This creature’s ancient ancestor was born of the blood of my ancestor. I’m not sure I understand how it happened, but according to legend, when Perseus chopped off Medusa’s head, Pegasus flew out of the blood that dripped from her neck. It is amazing that something so beautiful can rise from such an evil act.
“You were traveling in the correct direction,” the golden maiden says. “The Den is far downstream from here, at the place where the dark river falls to a great depth at the edge of Abyssos.”
Emboldened, I clamp my fist around the whole thing. Instantly it feels like I’ve stuck my finger in a light socket. Flash after flash of pure energy jolts through me, over me, around me.
My brain swirls with the same kind of hazy image I saw earlier in Contemporary Civilization, only there is no solid object at the center. As much as I try to focus my mind, to rein in all the racing thoughts, I feel that I’m in free fall. Bursts of momentary clarity.
Knife.
Blood.
Prayer.
Then things turn darker. Amid the shadows I see glinting steel and tearing claws. Flesh shredded, bodies piled, deafening roar. It’s like a vortex of blackness, of evil. And high above, I see streaks of purple and gold.
I can’t draw breath. I feel like I’m drowning in air. The images narrow, shrinking down to a—
“Greer!”
My eyes flash open. Grace is screaming, leaning over me with a desperate look in her eyes. Her hands grip my shoulders, shaking me as if she’s trying to bring me back to consciousness. To life.
I struggle to breathe for a minute, my eyes never leaving hers. Silver to silver. She’s like my anchor, keeping me conscious and rooted in this world. Saving me from drifting back into that dark place that almost claimed me.
Finally, when I feel that I have control of myself and my mind, I say, “What?”
“What?” she echoes. “What! Are you kidding me?”
She moves off me and pulls me to a sitting position.
“You were screaming in terror,” she says. “Gasping like you couldn’t breathe. Your eyes rolled back into your head and—”
I place a hand over hers. “I’m fine.”
“Fine?” She shakes her head. “Thanks to me. I had to yank this out of your hand.”
She holds up the pendant, letting it dangle from her fingertips like a poisonous snake.
“I know,” I say, pushing shakily to my feet. “Thank you.”
Things are falling into place, the unconnected puzzle pieces clicking together to form a comprehensible picture.
I don’t have time to think about that dark, scary place. Of where I might have ended up if Grace hadn’t pulled me back. Right now, we have to save our sister.
“I know how to get to the abyss,” I say. “I need a knife.”
I can almost feel Grace’s eyes follow me as I disappear upstairs. Moments later I return from the kitchen with a small paring knife. If I’m interpreting the visions clearly, this is what needs to be done.
“Why do you need a knife?” Grace asks.
“I’m going to open a portal.”
“Then what?” she asks.
“Then …” I hadn’t thought of that. “Then we go in after Gretchen.”
“Just like that?” Her eyes widen. “We’ll need supplies. Who knows what’s waiting for us in there.”
She’s being practical. And she’s right, we shouldn’t go in without supplies.
I nod. We take a few minutes to gather some essentials. I retrieve a long-forgotten backpack from the depths of my closet, and we fill it with bottled water, granola bars, a pair of steak knives, and a handful of zip ties from the household toolbox. When we feel prepared, we return to the basement.
Grace pulls the backpack onto her shoulders and I grip the knife in my left hand.
Our eyes meet, we exchange a nod, and I draw the blade over my right palm. I clench my jaw to keep from wincing at the pain. I move the knife to my right hand and repeat the action, drawing a line of blood on my left palm. I toss the knife aside.
With a little prayer that this works, I clasp my two palms together.
At first, nothing happens. I stare at my steepled hands. Just the feel of blood against blood. Maybe I read the images wrong, or the images were about something else, or—
“Omigosh,” Grace gasps.
I look up and see a black spot right in front of me. As we stand there, watching, the spot grows. It looks exactly like the portal Sthenno was dragged into, just like the one Gretchen dived into. It grows until it is nearly as tall as the ceiling and as wide as a set of double doors.
I take an instinctive step back.
Grace steps up to my side.
“Ready?” she asks.
Am I? I have to be. “Yes.”
She takes my hand in hers and, together, we take a step toward the portal.
CHAPTER 24
GRETCHEN
We set out through the crack, a group of six, leaving the brightness of the cave for the darkness of the cavern. The golden maiden and I are accompanied by another pair of those obsidian-like guardians, Sillus, and a winged horse, a pegasus. The unicorn, whose name I’ve learned is Lex, stayed behind because the light from his horn might draw too much attention. Apparently, where we’re going, staying under the radar is mission critical.
The pegasus is a majestic thing. Sleek and silver gray, his wings fold tight against his body as we walk. I remember enough of Ursula’s mythology lessons to know that the pegasus is also a descendant of Medusa. This creature’s ancient ancestor was born of the blood of my ancestor. I’m not sure I understand how it happened, but according to legend, when Perseus chopped off Medusa’s head, Pegasus flew out of the blood that dripped from her neck. It is amazing that something so beautiful can rise from such an evil act.
“You were traveling in the correct direction,” the golden maiden says. “The Den is far downstream from here, at the place where the dark river falls to a great depth at the edge of Abyssos.”
