Spirit (19 page)

“Shayna!”
Jacob’s voice cut through the din, startling me. I pulled on the reins and put
my heels into Fearghus’s thighs. Reluctantly, fighting me the whole way,
Fearghus turned toward Jacob’s voice and his horse. Balor ran alongside him
now, nipping playfully at the horse.

“Jacob?” I
called out, shaking my head. Where had he come from? I had made sure no one saw
me leave.

“Shayna,” he
breathed as he came alongside me. He reached out to put a hand on Fearghus’s
bridle, as if he was afraid we would take off running.

“Jacob, what are
you doing?” I asked. “You said you didn’t want to come with me.”

“I know,” he
panted, trying to catch his breath as if he’d been the one galloping and not
the horse.

“You realize I’m
leaving, right?” I inclined my head toward him.

“Yes, but…” He
paused to swallow, his nostrils flaring as he tried to slow his breathing. “You
took my jacket.”

“What?” I was
confused for a moment until I remembered the jacket I had snatched just before
I left, the jacket I was now wearing.

“My jacket,” he
repeated, giving me a pointed look as he glanced at his jacket.

“Oh, right. I’m sorry;
I didn’t realize it was yours.” I gathered the lapel in one hand, clutching it
to my chest.

“Yeah, I saw you
filch it, but I thought you were just cold. I didn’t realize you were taking
off with it.”

“Did you
seriously follow me all this way for a jacket?”

Jacob opened his
mouth, but the words seemed to catch in his throat. After a moment, he closed
his mouth and glanced away from me, staring off downriver.

“Jacob,” I said
as gently as possible, “it’s all right, you know; you can come with me if you
want to.”

“What makes you
think you can find the edge?” he asked, his voice harsher than I expected.

“I don’t know,”
I said honestly. “I just can’t not try, you know?”

He glanced away
again. “The Hunt caught me. I doubt, even if we do find it, I’ll be allowed to
leave.”

“Maybe,” I said,
nodding, placing my hand on his hand that still clung to Fearghus’s bridle.
“But maybe you will. Do you really want to wander here for eternity wondering
what would have happened?”

“No,” he said,
letting go of the bridle just to take my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “No,
I don’t.” I squeezed his hand back before letting go. Fearghus took a few steps
to put a little distance between him and the other horse.

“So,” I said,
“do you really want your jacket back?”

Jacob grinned at
me and said, “No, it looks better on you anyway.”

***

We rode for
hours and hours, sometimes galloping, sometimes at a brisk walk. We didn’t want
to wear out the horses like Gwyn seemed to. With the moon never moving, it was
hard to be sure just how long we’d ridden, but when my legs began to ache and
the muscles in my back began to protest, I knew it was time to stop.

Because neither
of us knew what Gwyn did to make us shift locations in a heartbeat, going from one
type of scenery to the next, we were still in the aged forest, the river
rushing by alongside us. We agreed the camouflage of the trees was safer and
used the river as a marker, just following it. We watered the horses and let
them graze on the riverbanks while we set to making a fire.

Jacob gathered
tinder, dried twigs, and small branches while I set up a ring of stones. I
pulled out the flint and dagger I had stolen once Jacob had the pyramid of wood
all set. Holding the flint and dagger in front of me, I hesitated. I had never
actually lit a fire like that and was suddenly very self-conscious with Jacob
watching me, an expectant look on his face. My braid swung forward over my
shoulder. Jacob reached out and brushed it back, away from my face and the
flint.

“Don’t want to
catch it on fire,” he said with a grin. As he drew back his hand, his fingers
grazed my neck lightly. A shiver ran through my body, but I told myself it was
just a chill and struck the flint with the dagger. The sparks drew Jacob’s
attention away from me. The sparks landed on the wood only to wink out of
existence almost immediately.

“Damn it,” I
whispered, trying again. Each time the spark ignited but never caught fire.

“Here,” Jacob
said, holding his hands out for the tools. “Let me show you.” I passed him the
flint and the dagger, a pang of regret flitting through me that I couldn’t figure
it out on my own. If I was alone, I would have eventually figured it out
because I wouldn’t have stopped until I did, but I had help with me, so in the
interest of saving energy, I took it.

Jacob leaned
closer to the wood than I had, putting the flint close to the bundle of tinder
under the pyramid of branches before he scraped the dagger across it. Sparks
flamed bright, jumping and landing on the soft tinder, making it smolder and
curl in bright orange. Jacob leaned back and began to blow on it in slow, even
breaths until it burst into flame. When the twigs took flame and then the
branches, we had a proper fire. For one heart-stopping moment, I thought about
how easy this would have been if Steven had been with us. I closed my eyes
against the sudden sting of tears and pushed that thought out of my mind.

“Everything all
right?” Jacob asked, the triumph on his face fading away at the sight of my
pain.

“Yeah,” I said,
waving his concern away with one hand as I scrubbed at my eyes with the other.
“Just missing someone.” Jacob watched me for a moment, but I refused to meet
his stare. I didn’t want to talk about it, and he wasn’t going to make me.

I walked over to
Fearghus and opened the saddle bag with the food, pulling out some of the
salted meat and a potato (or at least what I hoped was a potato) and a purple
onion. Jacob had two tankards and a pot for cooking since he hadn’t unpacked
his saddle bags before he’d run after me. We boiled river water with some mint
he found, and I chopped up the food. Soon we had a fragrant hash and comforting
mint tea. Within minutes, my shoulders relaxed, the knots loosening under the
comfort of a warm fire and food. And though I could feel his prying eyes on me,
wanting to know what I was thinking, having another person around was nice.

I tossed pieces
of meat and potato to Balor as we ate. When we were done, Balor curled up next
to me, his large body a perfect wind break. I was surrounded with heat from Balor
on one side and the fire on the other. I scooted down until I could rest my
head on his body, pulling Jacob’s coat tighter around me.

“You know, I
left people behind too,” Jacob said, breaking the silence. I opened my eyes to
look at him across the fire. He sat with his arms around his legs, his chin
resting on his knees. From this angle, his eyes looked like orange and red
glass.

“I’m sure
everyone did,” I replied, not sure what else to say.

“Clara,” he
said.

“What?”

“That was my
girl,” he said, still staring into the fire. “Her name was Clara. Isn’t that a
beautiful name? Clara.”

“Yes,” I agreed,
“very pretty.”

“’Course that
ended a long time ago,” he said. “She married someone else over a year ago.”

I waited, not
sure what to say. Jacob was quiet for so long I figured he had changed his mind
about sharing, so I closed my eyes, turning into Balor’s warmth. I heard Jacob
move, his feet scraping against the ground as he, too, laid down.

“I wonder if she
misses me,” he said, almost too quiet to be heard over the nearby river and the
crackle and pop of the fire.

“I’m sure she
does,” I said, thinking about all the people I had left behind.

“Pretty to think
so,” he said, making me open my eyes and pick up my head. I had said that
phrase many times in life and had yet to hear anyone else say it, but Jacob had
closed his eyes and rolled so his back was to me. Apparently the conversation
was over for the night.

I lay awake,
staring up at the starless sky. Sleep eluded me even when both Balor and
Jacob’s breathing patterns slowed, telling me they were both asleep. I pushed
away from Balor as quietly as I could, but when I sat up, I saw him open one
red eye, arching his furry brow at me. I put my finger to my pursed lips,
silently telling him to be quiet as I climbed to my feet. I dusted my pants and
Jacob’s coat off, the dust puffing out in grey clouds, nearly startling a cough
out of me.

I found the
horses still grazing by the river. Digging into the saddle bag where I kept the
stolen weapons, I found the bundled fabric that held my magic looking glass and
pulled it out. I went back over to our fire. The flames were dying out, so I
fed it a few of the unused branches, bringing the flames back to full life.
Heat washed over me, easing some of my aches. I watched Jacob for a few minutes
to make sure the renewed crackling and popping of the fire wouldn’t wake him up.
When he remained asleep, I turned my attention to the looking glass clutched in
my hands.

I closed my eyes
and thought of my home, picturing my dad in his recliner, reading the newspaper,
and my mother on the couch, a book in her hand. I thought about my room, filled
with my books. Our kitchen and the near-constant aroma of coffee wafting
through the house. When I opened my eyes, the black glass of the looking glass
shifted, becoming fog-like, until it finally cleared and revealed my home. Just
as I had expected, my parents were sitting, both reading.

My father looked
older than I remembered. New, deeper lines traced his forehead and the corners
of his eyes. My mother looked faded, like some of the light had gone out of her.
The same dark circles under her eyes were still there. My throat closed, and I
had to force myself to swallow past the lump as I blinked back tears. But the important
thing was that they were okay, albeit a little damaged, but they were coping.

I closed my eyes
again and concentrated on Jodi’s image. I had been checking in on Steven so
much, but Jodi’s reaction to my death had worried me much more than Steven’s. I
saw my soul sister in my mind, her short blond hair lifting on the current of
her magic, her blue eyes bright with power and curiosity. I thought of her as
she truly was: covered in blue and purple and white electric currents, turning
her pixie face into something feral and fierce.

When I opened my
eyes again, the image in the glass was the sight of a familiar forest – the
place we had gone when I had been drained of power and where Steven had set the
fire. It was the last place we had performed magic together.

Chapter 11

Jodi sat in the
middle of the clearing where we’d had our picnic. I could almost smell the
coffee and chocolate. She’d picked tiny clover flowers to make a daisy chain. The
length pooled in her lap as her slender fingers wove the flowers together. She
looked much the way she had at the funeral, except through the looking glass I
couldn’t see the shadow of death looming over her. Her usually glossy white and
yellow hair was lank and flat against her head, tucked behind her ears, and her
fair skin just looked pale. The few freckles she had stood out in stark
contrast on her cheeks. I couldn’t see her eyes, her lids were lowered as she
watched the chain in her hands, but I imagined they were probably dull to match
the rest of her.

The looking
glass edges bit into my fingers as I gripped it, wishing I could reach out and
give her some small measure of hope. She finished the ring of flowers and laid
it in the green grass in front of her in an imperfect circle. Setting her
elbows into her knees, she propped her chin on her fists. From this angle, I
could see the red streaks on her cheeks and the dark circles under her eyes
that seemed a normal part of her appearance anymore. Before she would never
have set foot out of her house without applying concealer and base until her
complexion was just perfect. But now she just didn’t seem to care.

Jodi drew in a
deep breath through her nose and exhaled through her mouth, her thin lips
parting slightly. I expected a sudden breeze to swing through the clearing
before picking up the delicate chain of flowers and tumbling it away, but
nothing happened. Her shoulders slumped imperceptibly, almost as if she wasn’t
entirely surprised at the lack of results. In the last few years, Jodi’s Air
abilities had really been something to behold.

At some point,
she had found her Air, the inner spark inside of her body, inside of her soul,
that was the very essence of her being. She had no longer needed to ground,
center, and concentrate to use it. Jodi had just become Air. I think it was
after harnessing the power of the storm as we fought for our lives against the
nymphs. Electricity from the lighting had filled her body, and she had come out
the other side, not only alive, but full of power.

As I stared down
at her in that tiny window in my hand, she seemed to have even less power than
she did when we met as little girls on the playground. Every day since my death,
time had stolen more and more of her powers. Even that feral wind that chased
her steps at the memorial was lost to her. She shook her head and closed her
eyes, holding back the tears filling her wide blue eyes.