Guardian of the Gate (8 page)

His words find me as I turn to leave. “Good night.”

I do not look back. And as I make my way to the tent, it is not the prophecy or my sister I see but the fathomless blue of
James Douglas’s eyes.

I do not expect to travel the Plane our first night in the woods. I am tired. Exhausted, really. I have no desire for anything
but the dreamless sleep that becomes ever rarer as I am drawn deeper into the prophecy.

Yet travel I do, awakening to the now familiar sensation of being in a dream that is more than a dream.

I do not have the sense of being summoned, exactly. That is something I have come to
feel
when it happens — a calling of sorts that tells me someone is waiting in the Otherworlds just for me.

This is different.

I know there is a reason I am in the Otherworlds. I know there is something I am meant to see or realize, but my destination
and purpose seems controlled by something other than a simple
being. At times like these, it seems that the universe itself
draws me across the realm of the Otherworlds toward a revelation that is no less urgent for my ignorance of its purpose.

I am in the world most closely linked to ours. The one in which everything looks the same. The one in which I can sometimes
see those I know and love, can sometimes see my world as it exists but with the finest of veils between the physical version
and the mystical one that exists in the Otherworlds of the Plane.

I am flying over a wood I know instinctually to be the one in which my body lies sleeping — the one in which we have traveled
on horseback. It is dense with trees, and I fly fast enough over the verdant foliage that it appears as a soft, green carpet
beneath my body.

At first, I see nothing under the thick canopy of leaves between the sky in which I fly and the ground beneath the trees,
but soon, something moves beneath me, first one direction and then another. It is ethereal. An apparition flitting among the
trees. I think it an animal, but it travels so fast I cannot imagine how a simple forest creature could seem to occupy every
corner of the wood all at once.

Then I hear the breathing.

It is heavy, very nearly labored save for the fact that it does not sound human. It closes in from every direction, and though
I cannot name the thing that gives chase, the fact that it appears beneath me does nothing to ease my fear. I know well that
the laws of the Otherworlds do not follow our own. I know just as well that my fear is not to be ignored. It has saved me
more than once.

The creature draws closer, its breath coming from nowhere and everywhere all at once. There are no landmarks in the forest
underneath my flying body. Only mile after mile of trees broken by the occasional small clearing. Even still, I know I am
close to safety. I feel the pull of the astral cord. It whispers,
You are almost there.
If I fly just a little longer, I am certain I will return to the body that is mine.

It is not long before I see the clearing ahead, a faint curl of smoke drifting upward from the cooling campfire, our two tents
side by side and not far from the horses tied to the trees near the edge of the campsite. I head for the larger tent, knowing
it is mine and that Sonia and Luisa are probably sleeping soundly within the shelter of its thin walls. The threatening breathing
is still there, but I do not think the creature will catch me. It is not the capture of my soul that has called me to the
Plane this night.

Not an imminent threat, but a warning.

I drop into my body effortlessly, without the harsh surprise that accompanied my first travels, and awaken immediately. It
takes me a while to settle the racing of my heart, but even then, I cannot sleep. I do not know whether it is my imagination
or simply a result of my return from the Plane, but I believe I hear things moving about the trees outside the tent. A rustling,
a shifting, a careful stepping over the leafy forest floor.

I look at Sonia and Luisa, still sleeping peacefully, and think I must be going mad.

When I emerge from the tent the next morning, sleepy-eyed and groggy, it is to a murky haze that blankets every inch of the
campsite. The air is heavy with mist, and it is impossible to see more than a foot away. The horses can be heard whinnying
and my friends can be heard speaking to one another, but it all comes as if beneath a thick layer of wool. I feel very alone,
though I know the others are not as far away as they sound.

We manage a hasty breakfast and begin breaking camp. Having helped Edmund pack the food and cooking supplies, I head to the
tent to help Sonia and Luisa with the blankets. When I get there, Luisa is stuffing articles of clothing into the satchel
lying on the ground.

She looks up as I approach. “We will be lucky to see one another in this fog, to say nothing of finding our way through the
forest.”

I hear an undercurrent of tension in her words, though her face remains impassive.

“We can only hope it doesn’t rain.” I refuse to ponder the unpleasantness of crossing the forest through not only heavy fog
but torrential rain. “Where is Sonia?”

Luisa waves her hand in the direction of the woods without looking up from the satchel. “Attending to personal matters.”

“I thought we agreed to accompany one another when we had to leave the camp.”

“I offered to go with her, even insisted, but she said she had an excellent sense of direction and would return well before
we departed.” She pauses, and her next words are spoken with sarcasm under her breath. “Though I imagine if
you
had offered she would have accepted without hesitation.”

I tip my head. “Whatever do you mean?”

She continues packing with fervor, avoiding my eyes. “I
mean
you and Sonia have been together for months while I have been stuck in New York with the ninnies at Wycliffe.”

Jealousy is evident in her voice, and my heart softens. I drop next to her on the ground, touching her arm. “Luisa.”

She continues as if she doesn’t hear me. “It’s natural that you and she should become close.”

“Luisa.” This time my voice is more forceful, and she stops her constant motion, finally meeting my eyes. “I’m sorry you could
not be here with Sonia and me. We would have liked nothing more. Things are never the same without you. But you must know
that eight months apart could not change the friendship we share.
The friendship we
all
share. Nothing could ever change that.”

She looks at me in silence a moment before leaning in to embrace me. “I’m sorry, Lia. I’m being foolish, aren’t I? I suppose
I’ve let this worry me far too long.”

I feel a moment’s sadness for all that Luisa has missed. She is right. While Sonia and I have been in London unsupervised,
riding horses and attending events with those of the Society, she has been trapped amid the same intolerance and small-minded
thinking I once longed to escape.

I pull back and smile at her. “Now, let me help you pack.”

She favors me with a brilliant smile, the kind that is all Luisa, and hands me some of the things lying on the ground.

With both of us at work, packing the tent and its contents goes quickly. And still, Sonia has not returned. A seed of worry
takes root in my stomach, and I vow to go looking for her if she is not back by the time the horses are ready to leave. While
we wait, Luisa and I carry the tents and packs to Edmund. We give him everything except my bow and knapsack. These I plan
to keep with me every day until we arrive safely at Altus.

He straps everything else to the animals and has just loaded the last of the packs onto Sonia’s horse when she finally stumbles
through the trees at the edge of the campsite.

“Oh, I’m sorry to be so late!” She brushes leaves and twigs from her hair and breeches. “I suppose my navigational skills
are not what I imagined! Have you been waiting long?”

I lift myself onto the back of my horse, stifling a wave of
irritation. “Not long, though I do think we should stick together
while in the wood, don’t you?”

Sonia nods. “Of course. I’m sorry if I’ve caused you worry.” She makes her way to her horse.

Luisa is already atop her mount. She says nothing, whether out of annoyance or the impatience to embark, I do not know.

We follow Edmund out of the clearing that was our first campsite. No one speaks for a long while. The mist is suffocating.
I feel nearly claustrophobic as it wraps its arms around us, and I have to stuff down occasional moments of panic. Moments
when I feel as if I am being swallowed whole by something oppressive and all-encompassing.

My mind is oddly blank. I do not think about Alice. I do not even think about Edmund’s confirmation that James and Alice have
become friendly. I think of nothing except the backs of those who ride in front of me and my effort not to lose them in the
fog.

By the time we break for lunch, I have become used to the long stretches of quiet. We move about, settling into scattered
positions near a small stream as we fill our canteens with fresh water and chew bread that is already becoming stale. But
we do it all in silence. And in the end, it is no matter, for there is nothing to see or speak of anyway.

Edmund feeds and waters the horses while Sonia, Luisa, and I enjoy the break from riding. Sonia lies on her back amid the
grass near the stream, and Luisa, eyes closed and her face serene, leans against the trunk of a tree. I watch them both, feeling
as
if I am looking for something — something other than the missing pages.

But I do not have long to dwell on my feelings. Edmund soon gives the signal that it is time to get moving, and move we do,
mounting our horses and making our way deeper into the forest.

“Lia? Do you think Luisa is all right?”

We have finally retired after a long day of riding, and Sonia’s voice drifts to me from her side of the tent. Luisa is still
sitting by the campfire — or she was when Sonia and I decided to go to bed.

I think back to the conversation Luisa and I had in the tent that morning and am not entirely certain she would like me to
repeat her earlier jealousy. “Why do you ask?”

Sonia’s brow furrows as she tries to find the right words. “It seems she has something on her mind. Don’t you sense it?”

Hesitating, I try to think of a way to honor Luisa’s confidence. “Perhaps, but we are on horseback all day long, and it is
ever so hard to carry on a conversation while riding, especially in this infernal fog. Also…”

“Yes?” she prods.

“Well, you and I have been together for a year now, Sonia. Don’t you think it possible that Luisa feels a bit left out?”

She chews her lower lip. I recognize the gesture as one she employs when pondering a question of significance and
choosing
her reply carefully. “I suppose, but I wonder if it isn’t something more.”

“Such as?”

Sonia looks at the ceiling of the tent before turning her eyes to me in the darkness of the tent. “You don’t think… well…”

“What? What is it?”

She sighs heavily. “I was just thinking about how Virginia once said the Souls would stop at nothing to get to you, to cause
dissension among us.”

She does not have to finish. I know what she means to imply. “Sonia.” I say her name to give me time. “I know the Souls are
out there. I do. But we cannot make anything of a distraction we all feel traveling through this gray and misty wood.”

Her eyes find mine across the tent.

“All right?” I say again.

She nods. “All right, Lia.”

Some time later, long after Sonia has gone quiet, Luisa returns to the tent. She moves about quietly, easing into her blankets
without a sound. It would be simple to ask the questions brought to mind by Sonia’s worry, and yet I say nothing. I do not
want to give credence to Sonia’s fear by voicing it aloud.