American Goth (25 page)

*

The first part was easy:
I drew in energy from the earth, from the air, from the surrounding Aethyr and created the white light simulacrum. The next part wasn’t hard either, to travel through the Aethyr, find the track and print of the night before, to once more seek and see the dark signature that had reached out for Fran and to grab hold of it.

The trick was to maintain the hold, then transfer it with me to the nexus of the Astral. At first, it was a bit of fog, like gray cotton-candy in my hand, and as we moved through Aethyr to Astral, to the higher level only those invited, brought directly, or trained could reach, it thickened, grew heavy, oily and sticky, like an ugly black putty or the tar that was used to repair cracks in the street, and it fought and twisted in my hands, unable to stand my grip, the pure energy of the Light I carried, as we rapidly approached the Mid-Astral proper.

I had only a moment to see what it had resolved into when we arrived, before it tore from my grasp and the simulacrum ran, a frantic, beetlelike scuttle of skeletal legs and arms, while its oily cape billowed behind it.

What a waste of energy, the creation of the aethyric double that was meant to frighten, to intimidate, I thought. I could feel the smile that crossed my face echo on the body that lay inert on the Material as the sheer joy of the hunt sluiced through me, and I flew forward in pursuit.

I was gaining as we ran across the terrain and not twenty yards ahead of us winked a small hole in the ground, a burrow my quarry aimed for. I lunged, reaching for and rewarded with a good hold of the black, viscous cloak, which writhed around my fist, a cold and slimy feel, and together, we fell through.

We tumbled through dirt and water and clouds, a collage of energy and elements until we came to a halt and I maintained a firm grip as I looked around.

We were in the Material, but not exactly. I stared around as I realized we were in the Aethyr itself, the literal energy double of the world we inhabited, and we were in London, not far from St. Katharine dockyards.

“Who do you answer to?” I asked the hound I held in my hands, and as he opened his mouth to speak, a look of horror crossed his face as he choked and clutched frantically at his stomach. The robe was rapidly dissolving and I looked down as he did. There, dangling from his navel like live wire, was the torn end of the lifeline that had kept his soul tethered to his body. And as his now-human eyes met mine, we both knew what had happened: he’d been murdered in the Material to prevent him from speaking to me here.

He mewled in terror and clawed at the robe that was the waste of the resources he had left, shrinking and changing before my astonished eyes until a vaguely human figure, round and childlike, perhaps six inches tall, stood, cowering and crying before me.

“I won’t hurt you,” I promised and it shook in fear as I reached for it.

It trembled as I caressed its small round head and I caught it up in my hand.

No longer tied to a body, it couldn’t speak in words, in language, but it could send pure thought and emotion and it clearly broadcast its remorse and regret.

“I’ll bring you to the River, and you can start again.”

A burst of pure joy, followed by doubt.

“Yes, you can, you really can—would you like that?”

Another burst of joy mixed with gratitude waved forth as it threw itself on my neck. I turned once and was instantly back where I needed to be, the Mid-Astral, and it rode my shoulder as we approached the glowing banks of the River.

A shadow of fear crossed its little body and I understood. “No,” I said, “your Master can’t follow you now.” I carefully set the body of light on the grass of the bank.

It took one hesitant step, then another, and another, glowing brighter and brighter until it leapt with pure joy and glee into the opalescent glow. It took a moment to look back and wave at me as the current carried it past a curve in the bank
and out of sight.

*

I slapped my hand hard on the wood beyond the rug I lay on, before I even opened my eyes, to ground out what energy I could.

“We have a problem,” I announced to the serious brown eyes that greeted me as I sat up and Cort put the food and drink that would help shut the channels into my shaking hands.

He covered me against the chill and after I sipped and swallowed what was now tasteless in my mouth, I was able to speak. “This one’s a killer.” I told him everything I’d seen, and his face grew grim.

“Can you wait here a few moments?” he asked me.

“I’m not in a hurry to move,” I said and gave him a small grin. I was still a bit shaky and unsteady from the work, and I wanted at least a second or two for myself to reflect on what I’d seen and what had happened.

“I’ll be back,” he said as he strode to the door. “Shall I send Fran up?”

“Yes, please,” I answered as I picked at the nuts and raisins in the bowl I held. I had been shocked by the callous murder I’d witnessed, disembodied, to be certain, but murder nonetheless. I wondered which of the many crimes reported on the news and in the papers it would be, or if it would go unnoticed.

And after…what had happened after, I had known what it was, the little soul that stood before me, had known what to do, as if I’d done it a thousand times before, would do it a thousand times again. How…
why
did I know that?

It had happened despite the fury of hunt that had ridden me. Faced with that living Light, my anger had disappeared, to be replaced instead with an overwhelming… What was it I had felt, anyway? Care? Not a strong enough word. Compassion wasn’t exactly right either. I glanced up to see Fran enter the room and as her eyes met mine, I knew what it was. Love. I had felt love for that creature that in the Material had tried to do such damage, had hurt and willfully hurt others out of fear, out of pain.

So small, so young in the Universe, and I had seen it in its pure essence, brought it by its own choice back to the Light, to begin again.

I couldn’t control the shudder that ran through me as I pondered what it meant.

“God, Sam—you’re freezing!” Fran said as she knelt next to me and vigorously rubbed my shoulders. I was unresisting and let her wrap around me until my head rested against her collar.

“Are you all right?” she asked as she stroked her fingers through the hair that feathered against my ear.

“I’m fine,” I said, then kissed the hollow of her throat and sat up straight to gaze into her face. Her eyes reflected the concern that waved off her.

“Did you have lunch yet?” I asked, not ready at the moment to discuss anything.

“It’s almost dinnertime,” she said softly, “you’ve been here all day.”

I had known it would take some time, I just hadn’t known how much, and that explained the cold and the stiffness I felt in my limbs. I stood and stretched until I felt my back loosen.

“I think they might actually be arguing,” Fran said and passed me my tea from her perch on the floor.

“Who?”

“Cort and Elizabeth—no one’s yelling or anything like that, but…” She shrugged, then stood herself and handed me the rest of my clothes.

She was right. I let my senses extend and felt not anger but fear and frustration roil through the household.

What was between Fran and me could wait. This had to be taken care of
now
and I took her hand in mine to go downstairs, but we heard their discussion in the hallway as they approached.

“She’s mastered movement through the Aethyr and the levels of Astral on her own. You’re certain?” Elizabeth’s voice said.

“Yes.”

“Guide for the willing return to the River—you didn’t teach her that?”

“No.”

“Then she’s more than Wielder.”

“More
what
than Wielder?” I asked. Fran’s fingers were warm and steady in mine as Cort and Elizabeth stepped into the room. They’d each brought a tray.

They stared at us in apparent surprise.

Given the look they shared, it wasn’t difficult to guess what they were thinking.

“I’m not avatar.”

“How do you know?” Elizabeth asked as Cort set a tray down on the desk, then took hers, placing it next to the first.

I shook my head. “I’m not. We’re all…” I cast about for the right words. “We’re all a part of that, all of the same Light, and if I was avatar, I think…I’m certain I’d know it. I’d think differently, see and feel things differently.”

They all looked at me curiously and I shook my head in an attempt to clarify my thoughts. “Every avatar I’ve learned about—they’ve each had a sense of mission, of message. Most of them seem to have been born with it—even if they didn’t know what they’d do or who they were while on the Material.”

That, I realized, was it, the real difference. Avatars incarnated knowing they had a mission and it was the guiding force in their lives, whether they recognized their true self or not. Me though, I’d had no such self-knowledge of my role in life—I’d been born into it and stumbled upon it, unknowing.

Elizabeth smiled at me. “Well, you might not know if you were, but you do know that you’re not—and at this point, we have to decide what to do. Right now, you need something a bit more substantial than that,” she said, nodding at the bowl I’d left on the table, “so tonight, we’ll eat up here.”

The covered bowls and plates revealed a simple but hearty meal: a thick potato soup, with no sprigs of green on top because I hated the superfluity of garnishes (which Elizabeth took a moment to tease me about), several steaks (Cort promised me the “raw” one was mine), and string beans, which, as far as vegetables went, were the most innocuous so far as I was concerned, which meant I’d actually eat them.

“Please eat,” Elizabeth requested, “and then let’s discuss this.”

Cort built a fire, and it wasn’t until after we had finished dinner and the plates had been cleared, when I was comfortable on the sofa with Fran curled at my side and a blanket over both of us because I was still a bit chilled, even with the merry sound of crackling in the grate and the occasional pop of wood, that I felt functionally human again, or that anyone spoke.

My uncle went first. “You’ve so much yet to learn, but your abilities outstrip my training. In fact, you’ve gone out of the sphere I’d normally teach within. We still don’t really know,” and he began to tick off the points on his hand, “what your natural gifts will be once you’ve been sealed, or what your blind spots will be. We know the threat to you is physical, but I suspect…” And he glanced over to the fire.

For a moment, I saw the salamanders dance in the flames, an urgent jump as they tried to convey a message, or merely a greeting, before the world righted itself again.

Once it did, his eyes were steady on mine, the same flame within them. “This one is very close, and will not stop, even after,
especially
after, you’ve been sealed to the Circle. That he…eliminated one of his own adepts proves it.”

I knew that. I knew that, had expected it, and even as the quick rise in Fran’s heartbeat was as audible to me as the quick catch of her breath she tried to quiet, part of me relished the challenge.

“Ann, you’ve changed all the rules,” Elizabeth said into the silence that greeted the last statement.

“How?” That puzzled me. I’d been certain I’d been almost rigid in my adherence.

She smiled at me again. “We didn’t know what would happen—how you’d face your training, your testing. You’ve done things no one has done before—you’ve managed to change the whole game, and you didn’t even know you were playing.”

I stared, fully confused.

“Your abilities, your senses—they’re still somewhat intermittent, are they not?”

“Yes, sometimes,” I answered.

“We call that being head blind, or mind blind. And when you have been stripped, as it were, blinded, you were tested—you’ve had to make decisions. What were they based on? What you wanted, or what was needed?”

I thought about the times I’d found myself trapped in my skin, forced to act based solely on the information the usual five senses gave me.

“Always what’s needed,” Fran said and put an arm around my waist.

I gave her a grateful smile and wrapped my arm around her shoulder. “I try.”

“When faced with your first real threat, there would have been no wrong, none, in taking you to a safer place, yet you chose to stay—and then? And then you teach yourself how to change your own projection.”

Elizabeth got up and poured a cup of tea, then offered me one, but I declined, fine as I was for the moment. It was bizarre, because she spoke as casually as if this were one of our normal discussions about history or literature. Perhaps we’d discuss Blake, or Joyce, or Hemingway in a few moments.

“Now, you’ve faced several of the deeper trials, passed those tests, and on your hunt, your
first
solo hunt—no small milestone—you decide to track using the Aethyr, and then? You’re not only successful, you moved through at least three different levels of the Astral, all while attached to another. Do you have any
idea
of how…” She paused to shake her head, and her eyes were lambent as they gazed at me.

“Of all the things you could have done, from pursuing your curiosity to your own revenge, you instead gave someone something precious. You gave them back their free will.”