Blood Redemption (Angel's Edge #3) (32 page)

There was also a lot going on in the background. It looked as if the fighting figures were surrounded by exploding earth, metal clashing on metal, arrows whizzing past, fire, and more that I couldn’t identify. I had to stifle a gasp as I zeroed in on one corner, though. Coffee had soaked into it, obscuring some of the finer details. A young man lay on his side, bleeding out of a potentially fatal wound to his stomach. His head had a huge gash in it too, which bled a lot. I felt queasy just looking. But mostly I was mad at myself. The coffee had soaked in just enough to make it impossible to identify specific features. I had no more idea who the wounded young man was than I did the two fighting figures.

“That’s quite a little talent you have there,” drawled Bain. Cold chills crept up my neck at the sound of his voice, pulling me out of my contemplative mood.

I hastily flipped the drawing upside down so he couldn’t study it anymore, but of course the worst of the damage was done. He’d seen the whole thing in all its gory glory just as Ethan and I had.

“It’s nothing,” I said, clenching and unclenching my hands into fists. I suddenly wanted to be far, far away. Bain was getting on my last nerve.

“That’s right,” Ethan seconded, reaching across me to take the drawing. He blotted the coffee up with a napkin before rolling it into a tube. “It’s probably nothing.” He reached under my chair and slipped the small tube of damning paper into my knapsack for safekeeping. He then stood and interposed himself between our host and myself.

“I think it’s time to be leaving, Caspia,” Ethan said.

Bain backed up a few steps. “Still, you’re one worth keeping an eye on.” He glided to the far door and gave us a curious little bow. “In fact,” he tapped his forehead with one finger to emphasize each syllable. “Consider yourself on my radar even now.” And with that, he was gone.

“What was that?” Ethan asked as we left the dining room. I hadn’t eaten anything, but I had managed to lose all of my appetite after drawing that… whatever it was.

“Do you mean Bain, or the sketch?” I asked as we navigated silent halls. The carpet was so thick it muffled the sound of our passing.

Ethan barked a short laugh. “Either, I suppose.”

I sighed and slumped my shoulders, deflated of all energy. “I have no idea. The drawing made as much sense as they usually do. I couldn’t recognize anyone, and it pretty much looked like Armageddon all around.” I resolutely shoved the image of the dying man out of my mind. It was just as well the coffee stain had blotted out his identity. I didn’t want to know who he might be.

We came to the front doors, and I pushed them open just ahead of Ethan. The late morning light streamed into the clearing and made everything golden. “I’ll show it to Mrs. Alice. Maybe she’ll know what to make of it.”

“Show me what, dear?” Mrs. Alice asked, right on cue. I jumped, sensing her so near. Age certainly hadn’t stopped her ability to sneak up on a person.

Reluctantly I handed over the drawing. Usually I gave them to whomever seemed most important in the sketch, but in this case, there was no one. It reminded me of the one I’d drawn just before meeting Ethan: all confusing and dangerous and raw.

“Wow, what’s this?” mumbled a sleepy sounding Jack. Then, “Wow!” in a much more enthusiastic tone.

I turned to see him peeking over Mrs. Alice’s shoulder. His chest was bare, as usual, and his hair still looked sleep-tousled.

I shrugged, feeling my shoulders bunch up almost against my will. “One of my Gifts,” I mumbled. Mrs. Alice seemed to pick up on my discomfort. She gave the drawing one last good look before rolling it back up the way Ethan had done it. “Maybe it will mean something. Maybe it won’t.”

Her matronly arm came up around my shoulders. “Come along, dear. It’s time for the ceremony to close off the town.”

“Already?” It felt too soon, but I knew that was only me wanting to put off the inevitable. I let her lead me into the house.

She stopped and shook her head at Ethan and Jack when they tried to follow. “Not just yet, boys,” she told them in a firm tone.

Ethan looked like he wanted to object, but he fell back without comment. He and Jack stayed on the porch. They looked as if they were conferring about something, dark and light hair right next to each other, backlit by the slowly creeping sun.

We wound up in the library. I suffered another moment of book lust before focusing in on the rest of the room. The same Guardians were there as before, but this time, they were the only ones here. Cassandra and Jacob Eden were nowhere to be seen.

In the middle of the room sat a low table. Its surface was covered with what looked like flagstone, and a red candle stood lit at its center. The flame guttered and spat wax, which dripped over its side and puddled around the base. A long obsidian knife rested along one of the edges of the table.

Inside, I wanted to moan. I didn’t want to cut myself; it had only been a little while since the last time I’d done it. I flexed my hand, remembering. Cynthia Eden must have seen because I felt her gentle touch on my shoulder.

“Don’t worry,” her melodious voice reassured me. “You’ve already healed.” She held out her palm for me to inspect. It was a flawless, unmarred beige.

I unfurled my fingers slowly. My hand was as unscarred as the moment I woke up this morning. “What…?” I sputtered.

“It’s part of being a Guardian,” Cynthia assured me. “You draw power from the land, and part of that dynamic is that it heals you. Not of everything, of course, but enough so that you shouldn’t have to worry about colds and flus and minor injuries.” Her smile was radiant. I caught myself wishing I knew her better than I did. Perhaps there would be time… after. If there was an after.

As the other Guardians gathered around the table, I took up my appointed direction. Soon we stood at all cardinal points. The candle flame was straight and tall as the last of us took our place.

Bain was the first to cut himself. I watched, fascinated, as the blood welled. It was thicker and darker than normal blood; again I caught myself wondering just what manner of creature he was. The blood dripped down onto the candle. Instead of putting the flame out, however, Bain’s blood made it crackle and flare up even higher. Everyone followed suit until it was my turn. I stood there, holding the knife and feeling like a frightened child. I thought of all that was on the line, gripped the handle harder, and sliced myself. My blood spattered onto the fire, which leapt at the contact.

A pulling sensation settled deep inside, along with a pressure like a migraine building, but without the blinding pain. It wasn’t unlike the binding ceremony, where I felt the power of the land moving through me like something sentient. This was slightly less overwhelming. I wondered if all the ceremonies I would perform as Guardian I’d feel the same force.

Mrs. Alice began to chant. “We invoke the ancient wards that protect this place. Surround and guard our people in this, their hour of need.” The smoke grew thicker and wafted through the room, forming itself into a thick wall around us. This seemed to be the sign Mrs. Alice had been looking for. She bowed her head over the candle and said solemnly, “So be it.” She clapped her hands together, and the candle flame went out.

The smoke had become so thick it cast shadows about the room. We looked at each other, my fellow Guardians and I, and fear reflected back in more than one face as the ramifications of our actions sank in.

Bain was the first to move. His low chuckle echoed around the room. “I hope everyone is comfortable with my hospitality,” he said with the barest hint of trademark mockery. “Because for the time being, everyone is trapped here.”

stood at the very fringes of the Nightmare Forest, entranced by the pearlescent light right in front of me. It arced upward and away from the rest of Bain’s property, soft as mist, but impossible to see all the way through. The light emitted a low grade humming sound, and a faint warmth. I held out my hand toward it as if I was a moth drawn by candle flame.

“It’s so pretty,” I said, feathering my fingers through the air. “I didn’t expect it to be pretty. When I think about shields, especially powerful ones, I think steel walls and iron bars. Not something so… light and airy.” I frowned, my hand still just inches from the barrier. “It’s hard to believe it will really work.”

Beside me, Ethan cracked a smile. “It will work,” he assured me. “It already has.” He sounded so confident.

“How do you know?” I challenged.

He shrugged. “Jacob Eden and I had an interesting conversation while you were conducting the ceremony. He said it’s a variation of the energy that surrounds the town normally―the kind that redirects outsiders and keeps them away from Whitfield.” He squatted on the ground to examine the base of the barrier. “He says it’s at least partly because the town is built on a bed of quartz crystal. It amplifies spiritual energy and creates a kind of natural shield. It’s why so many supernaturals live and thrive here.”

I didn’t know much about gemstones and their properties, but I thought of the Hollow, where Jacob and Cynthia lived. It had always seemed to hum with an energy all its own. And it did explain why visitors to Whitfield were so incredibly rare. Any kind of newcomer was enough to draw attention as Ethan had drawn mine when he first arrived.

“I wonder what would happen if I touched it,” I said. Part of me wanted to make sure it was strong enough to keep the town safe, and another part of me was just fascinated with its beauty. But I didn’t want to wind up scorched or injured or worse.

“Go ahead,” Ethan prompted. “Jacob says it doesn’t hurt people. It just keeps them out.”

Encouraged, I closed my eyes and stepped into the beckoning, misty light. At first, it felt like a soft breath bathing my entire body. After a minute I felt brave enough to open my eyes. All I saw was glimmering radiance; it was as if the rest of the world had disappeared entirely. Since nothing bad had happened yet, I took another step forward.

Suddenly the humming got louder until it was all I could hear. The mist thickened until it resembled a solid wall in front of me. It seemed to cling to my skin like glue; an image of a spider caught in a web flashed through my brain. I heard a gentle voice―more of a whisper―in my head. “Go back,” it murmured, but I was too stunned to move.