Avenging Autumn (8 page)

“The candles join the earth with the air,” he explained. “When the wick burns, the smoke rises upward and joins with the air, and the wax melts downward to join with the earth.” Lakota reached into his pocket and removed a small pouch of herbs. “These herbs will help your spirit rise from your body and join that of the spirit world. You can’t be part of it for too long, though, or you may struggle to find your way back.”

Lakota dropped a pinch of the herbs into each of the candle flames and they burst and spurted with different colors—white, purple, and blue. Using a stick he’d found on the forest floor, Lakota dug into the ground above Blake’s head and then slowly dragged the stick through the dirt, creating a circle around Blake.

“The most important shape in this world is a circle,” his father said. “Both the earth and the sky are round, the seasons go around in a circle every year, a man’s life takes us in a circle—from a weak, helpless newborn, back to a weak helpless man as we die. The Power of the World always works in a circle, and so that is what I am containing you in now. We must call for that power, channel it from the Mother Earth and ask it to release you from your physical bonds so you can find your spirit guide and call it back to you.”

Blake nodded. “I’ll try.”

“Just clear your thoughts, and focus on the wolf. I’ll do everything else. You may feel strange, but try not to fight it. If you manage to reach the spirit plain, don’t lose sight of your body. If you do, you may struggle to make your way back again.”

Blake pressed his lips together and exhaled his nerves. He didn’t know what to expect. While he wasn’t afraid of the spirit world—it was something he’d lived with all his life—the idea of not being able to find his way back again was unnerving.

Perhaps not finding a way back would be a good thing,
a dangerous voice in his mind spoke up.
Why would you want to live in a broken body anyway?

He pushed the thought away. This was the exact thing he needed to get away from thinking. He needed to come to terms with the person he was now, not hate it. Yet part of him simply couldn’t.

“Are you ready, son?” his father asked, leaning over him. Lakota’s strong, lined face eclipsed Blake’s view of the sky and trees above him, his deep brown eyes filled with concern.

Blake forced a smile. “I’m ready.”

“Then close your eyes.”

Blake did as instructed, and the world vanished. The heat of the candles warmed his hands and feet, making him conscious of his connection to both the earth and air. In his mind, he pictured his spirit guide, the beautiful silver wolf with streaks of black through its fur. Mentally, he reached for his wolf, hoping to get a sense of it in the back of his mind, as he always had done, running, or with its nose pushing through a pile of pine needles, following a scent. But there was nothing. Blake was alone with his thoughts.

Lakota’s footsteps crunched on the ground beside his head. Flames guttered and sparked again, the pungent scents of whatever herbs Lakota was using filling Blake’s nostrils. Lakota sang an ancient song, low and deep, as he moved around Blake, following the circle he’d drawn and feeding each of the flames.

Dizziness suddenly overwhelmed Blake, the earth beneath him seeming to sway. Lakota’s singing grew quieter—no, not quieter, simply more distant. Though his father had told him to keep his eyes closed, Blake couldn’t help himself. His eyelids sprung open, but he was no longer lying on the ground. Instead, he stood, twenty or thirty yards from where he’d been lying.

Blake’s heart stuttered, his eyes widening. His body still lay on the ground, the candles placed exactly where they had been, and he watched his father move around his body, singing his ancient song. As he watched, Lakota dropped more herbs into the candles, and the thick smoke filled the air above his body.

Something else made Blake’s head spin in wonder. He glanced down at his feet, placed firmly on the forest floor. His feet were bare, as were his legs, and as he assessed, so was the rest of him—it appeared he was unable to bring clothing with him into the spirit world.

But, more importantly, Blake was standing.

He froze, terrified to attempt to walk in case he fell flat on his face, but he couldn’t just stand in one spot the whole time. Cautiously, he curled his toes, and they responded. Then he pushed up onto the balls of his feet, and he didn’t fall down. His calf and thigh muscles felt strong, his knees and ankles flexible.

Could he walk again?

With his heart in his throat, he took a tentative step forward. It was more of a shuffle, but everything seemed to work, so he repeated the process with the other foot. Tears of amazement and delight blurred his vision. He could walk again! But then his elation burst. No, he couldn’t. His spirit could walk, his body still lay, half paralyzed on the ground. He needed to remember the reason he was here. He was supposed to find his wolf spirit guide, and reconnect.

Blake listened. How would he know how to find his wolf?

The spirit world was different. He’d always imagined it would be brighter and more vibrant than the real world, but instead it was faded. The colors were mute, the sounds not as sharp, and, with a shock, he realized the place was utterly devoid of all smell. For the first time in his life, Blake was unable to smell a thing. He’d never noticed before how his nose had constantly picked up on the slightest of scents—smoke from the candles, musky dirt of the forest floor, even his own breath—but here there was nothing. It was a strange and disorienting sensation. No wonder the spirit guides were often so eager to shift.

Except his wasn’t, he reminded himself. That was the whole reason from him being here.

Blake opened his mouth. “Hello?”

His father’s head moved slightly in his direction, as if Lakota had picked up his voice on some level. But otherwise, he felt alone. He turned away from his body, and his father, and looked into the forest. He remembered what his father had said about him not losing sight of his body, but he needed to explore. He’d never find his spirit guide just by standing here. Besides, he wanted to experience how it felt to walk again—hell, he might even try a quick run. Too much time had passed since he’d been able to stand, and he’d almost forgotten how it felt.

Blake walked away from his body, his steps growing more confident with every stride. Where normally, the forest would be filled with life, this place was empty. No insects buzzed around his head, or beetles bored their ways into the trees. The branches overhead didn’t rustle with alighting birds, and the sound of their songs didn’t fill the air. He could have been looking at an intricate painting, beautiful, but devoid of life.

If this is the afterlife,
he thought,
I’m not sure it’s such a great place.

“Where are you?” he called out. “I’m here. I can walk again. I need you to come to me.” He sent out the energy he’d always channeled when he’d wanted to shift, hoping his wolf would sense it once again. Every part of his body was poised to pick up on his spirit guide, his ears straining, his eyes wide.
I’m here,
he spoke with his mind.
I’m here ...

In the distance, came the lonely, mournful howl of a solitary wolf.

A smile touched Blake’s lips.

His wolf had heard him.

He continued in the direction in which he’d heard the howl, his feet moving him forward. He ducked his head to peer through the trees, hoping to catch sight of a streak of silver fur.

There! Movement darted between the tree trunks. Blake increased his pace, breaking into a trot.

I’m here,
he called again with his mind.
Don’t go.

He was so focused on finding his wolf, he almost forgot the thing his father had told him to remember—don’t lose sight of his body. Blake turned to look over his shoulder. Suddenly, all of the trees appeared the same, and his usually excellent sense of direction had vanished. He glanced up at the sky, planning on using the position of the sun to find his way back, but, though it was light, the golden orb was nowhere to be seen.

Shit.

Blake spun in a circle, fear spiking through him. Up ahead, a faint whine filtered through the trees. His spirit guide must have sensed his unease. Blake felt the animal distance itself from him again, but he couldn’t think about that now. The idea of being stuck in the spirit world—even if he could walk again—didn’t appeal to him. He needed to get back to his body.

He figured he’d been running toward his spirit guide, so, hoping to head back the way he’d come, he turned one hundred and eighty degrees. He’d trained for orientation during his army days, but this situation removed any of the usual things he’d look for to find out his direction—no sun or stars to pinpoint his direction, no moss growing on certain sides of the tree trunks. Even the lack of scent in this plain served to heighten his disorientation.

He couldn’t have gotten far from his body. He’d only lost sight of it for a minute or two. He wished he could still smell the pungent aroma of the herbs his father burned. With his ears straining for the sound of Lakota’s singing, he pushed through the low hanging branches in his way. Had he come this way before? He couldn’t be certain.

A rising panic began to build in his chest, but he tamped it down, drawing on all of his military training. If he panicked, he would lose control, and that would be the end of him. He needed to stay calm in order to process things properly and find his way back.

Between the trees, he caught sight of a flicker of light, and the shape of a couple of feet.

Blake exhaled a sigh of relief, and stopped, bent at the waist, his hands on his thighs. Movement signaled Lakota circling around his body. His father’s face was lined with worry, and Lakota glanced in his direction. Blake wondered if his father sensed him standing there. He must be worried, and Blake had no idea how long he’d been gone.

He needed to walk over and lie back down, but though he wanted to be in the real world again, part of him hesitated.

When he opened his eyes, he’d be back in a paralyzed body.

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T
ENSION INSIDE THE soldier’s truck stacked high as Autumn drove north.

“I think you’re making a mistake,” growled Chogan from the back seat.

“Yeah, you may have mentioned that already,” she snapped back.

“You can’t trust these guys.”

“I don’t care. I only want Vivian dead. If they’re willing to help, who am I to question it?”

She heard Chogan suck air in through his teeth, and she knew he was biting his tongue.

“How much farther?” she asked, directing the question at Todd Newby.

The soldier leaned forward. “A couple of hours. No more.”

Autumn glanced over at where Daisy sat in the passenger seat. “You’ll help, won’t you, Daisy, if these other shifters start misbehaving?”

The girl gave a brief smile and turned back to stare out of the window. Autumn wished Daisy could talk. She could do with hearing the other girl’s opinion. A pang of longing went through her, not just for Blake, but for Mia as well.

Autumn sat back as she drove, lost in thought as the road and time passed by.

Mia was a shifter now, and Autumn felt as though she had lost her friend to another. She was being selfish, but she missed her best friend. Everyone she’d taken for granted to offer her advice had been removed from her life in some way or another. She still had Blake, but he wasn’t here with her now. Mia was with another and in a different form, and her father would never be able to offer her advice again—not that he’d been so great at it when he’d been alive. Even though she was surrounded by people, she’d never felt so alone. Self pity swelled inside her, but she tampered it down. She needed to stay focused on one thing, and that was making sure Vivian Winters was dead and unable to hurt anyone ever again. Once she knew Vivian was in the ground, she’d go back to Blake and figure out how they would spend their lives together. The idea of living with someone in a wheelchair was daunting, but she would never say so to Blake. He was a strong, proud man, and if he saw even a moment of doubt in her face, it would break him. Not that she had doubts—she loved him and wanted to spend the rest of her life with him—but she just wondered what their futures held.

Todd Newby leaned forward. “You need to take the next exit. The property is about three or four miles down the road.”

“Maybe we should find somewhere to pull over,” said Chogan, “and do the rest on foot?”

“Okay, but we don’t want to be too far away from the vehicles in case we need to get out of there quickly.” She turned to Todd. “How far out does Vivian have people patrolling the property?”

“Oh, not far, a mile at most—probably not even that. Things might have changed now she knows I’ve not returned when I should have, and so she might have more people on the watch now.”

“I’m sure she will have. And I hate to break this to you, Todd, but you weren’t ever meant to come back unless it was with us. That’s the whole reason she had you deliver my father’s hand.” Autumn felt cold inside, as if her heart had turned to stone. She’d never known hatred like this before. It was as if the emotion had changed her into someone else.

“It’s this exit,” Todd said, nodding to the small sign up ahead.

Autumn signaled and took the turn off. They exited onto a much smaller, dirt road, the gravel crunching beneath the wheels.

“We’re armed,” said Chogan. “We have the other shifters, too. Don’t worry, we’ll take down Vivian.”

“I don’t want a whole heap of people getting hurt as well,” she said. “Let’s try and do this as peacefully as possible. If she has soldiers there who start shooting, then shoot back, but don’t be the one to fire first. I think Vivian will want to come face to face with me. I don’t want men killed unnecessarily.”

“I won’t let you face Vivian alone,” Chogan said, his strong, noble face resolute.

“I know you won’t.”

Autumn spotted a small picnic area on the side of the road, and signaled to pull over. She lifted her eyes to the rearview mirror to make sure Angie had spotted what they were doing, and had pulled over behind them.