Awen Storm Page 4

  “Not the dog,” Shalane wailed.

  A fat tear rolled down her cheek. A gaping hole had opened inside of her. But why? The disaster was a boon. It would fill the seats of the Fox Theater. And that was a good thing. Advance ticket sales had been bleak. Southern Baptists weren’t as forgiving of Shalane’s lifestyle as the rest of the country.

  She stared at the screen and tried to swallow past the constriction in her throat. What was wrong with her? Disasters usually had the opposite effect, but for some reason she felt a deep sense of loss. What was different about this?

  Giving in to the impulse she’d had since waking, she threw a jacket over her street clothes and left the charming inn. She had checked into it the day before, needing a break from her crew and a real bed and full-sized shower.

  It was twelve-oh-one. Seven hours until curtain call. Plenty of time to get to the zoo, then to the Fox Theater. She had to know why she was feeling this way.

  She programmed her destination into the rental car’s GPS and searched the radio for the latest news. Halfway to Atlanta, a call from Cecil interrupted. She punched the hands-free.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m here, where are you?” her husband demanded. “Your room is empty. I only agreed to stay in Villa Rica because you promised to go with me to the gold museum. What happened to our lunch at Chat & Choo? You said you liked that restaurant. And you promised, Shay-Shay.”

  She had forgotten. Seeing Cecil’s number had reminded her. But his tone had her seeing red, and Lord help her, she snapped.

  “Goddammit Cecil, can’t you let me have one stinking minute without you or anyone else climbing up my butt? Just one lousy minute? Is that too much to ask?” She growled and ended the call, then felt guilty for hanging up on the one person who loved and accepted her for the freak that she was.

  “GODDAMMIT!” she shrieked at the top of her lungs, fresh tears streaming down her less-than-cherubic face. She didn’t want Cecil. She wanted…what? Something she couldn’t have. But what? Neither the screeching nor the temper could fill the mysterious, expanding hole in her heart.

  The zoo was closed when Shalane arrived. National guards and civilian troops swarmed the front entrance. She would have to find another way in. She detoured around the Cyclorama and left the grounds to traipse through Grant Park, grateful she’d had the presence of mind to wear comfortable shoes. Other than looky-loo’s, helicopters, and blaring sirens, Shalane detected no sign of an earthquake.

  She came upon a gap in the fence and looked around. No one was watching, so she slipped inside. Zoo employees scurried along the trail, impervious to her presence. When they passed from sight, Shalane slipped from the bushes and followed the same path.

  Soon she came upon a buckled sidewalk. From there, all she had to do was follow the wreckage. Matchstick-size splinters that had once been mature bamboo trees littered the landscape. Employees and troops worked side by side, still rescuing animals whose habitats were destroyed.

  A peafowl cried. Another answered from farther away. Shalane rounded a corner and stopped when she spied the broken peak from which Emily Hester and the others had fallen. It looked taller from here than it had on TV.

  The fissure below it was easily a hundred yards long, and a quarter as wide. Emergency personnel spilled over the pinnacle. Forming a human chain, they were manually cleared rubble from the site. Which she thought was odd, until she spied a backhoe that had fallen into the crevasse.

  The bottom of the pit was deserted. Reinforcing the spell to make her inconspicuous, Shalane circled the ridge. She had to get down there or she would burst from not knowing what was drawing her.

  The air reeked of sulfur, destruction, and death. A perfect combination for winning souls. Glee warred with Shalane’s horror. The weekend services were sure to sell out. From the opposite side, she picked her way down the unstable slope, trying not to disturb the rocks or call attention to herself.

  In no time at all, she was huffing from exertion. And only halfway to the bottom. She rested on a boulder and took a swig of the water she’d brought with her. Despite the slightly overcast day, her cheeks blazed. She peeled off her jacket and tied it around her waist, mopped the sweat from her brow, and took another pull from the water bottle.

  From this vantage point, Shalane could see the top of the crater and the line of workers. All else was hidden by the rise. Broken concrete and asphalt, trees, and mangled fences littered the slope. She thanked God there were no dead bodies. Her belly rumbled, reminding her she had skipped breakfast in favor of this odd, unscheduled jaunt.

  Picking her way around a tangle of barbed wire, she slid on loose gravel and grabbed the root of an upturned tree. She hung in midair for a long couple of seconds before gaining a foothold. Letting go, she scrabbled the rest of the way to the bottom and looked up. It was a daunting ten stories to the top. Or more.

  She pushed away thoughts of scaling it and focused her attention on the fracture zone. As far as she could tell, the cave-in had started somewhere else, then ripped through here and kept going.

  According to the news reports, this was where Emily Hester and her friends had disappeared. But there was something else Shalane had not expected. Ancient magic imbued the land. And it was overlain and countermanded by another sort of magic, one she’d never encountered.

  She knelt and laid her hand on the loose stones. Ripples of energy wafted over her. Baffled, Shalane changed positions and took another reading. The result was the same. Inconclusive. She sat back on her heels, wiped her brow, and took a sip of water. Never had she encountered either brand of magic.

  Conscious she was taking longer than planned, she called on Archangel Michael, then listened with all her senses. But no answers came. Only more questions.

  Raising her eyes to the heavens, Shalane sighed and hauled her bulk upright. No wiser than she’d been before, she began the treacherous climb to the top.

  Out of the Frying Pan

  To Brian’s amazement, the spell worked—the pile of rocks rolled right off his legs. And with Hamilton’s healing charm, his legs were as good as new. Maybe this togetherness thing wasn’t so bad. He had learned more magic in the last few minutes than in weeks of training. He should talk to someone about adding it to their curriculum.

  “I think you just did.” Hamilton’s voice inside his head reminded Brian he wasn’t alone.

  His stomach grumbled and he thought about what he’d been trying to forget. “So what’s the game plan? I’m hungry,” he answered silently.

  “Me too.”

  They both laughed. It was weird having another experience your bodily functions.

  “Notice anything different about our surroundings?”

  Brian opened his eyes. He’d been keeping them closed, a trick he had learned from the therapist his mother made him see after his dad left. It hadn’t gotten rid of his separation anxiety, but it had helped with his fear of the dark.

  “It’s lighter. But why?”

  “Not sure,” Ham said aloud. “Is that a knife in your pocket? How’d you get it through zoo security?”

  Brian shrugged. “I don’t know. I just figured it was too small. Nobody’s ever bothered me about it.”

  “Well good for us. We have a knife, even if it’s a little one. Too bad you didn’t throw some matches in your pocket. Or a lighter. Those would help.”

  “Well excuse me for not bringing my Cub Scout survival kit to the zoo,” Brian huffed. “Believe me, if I had known, I’d have stuffed a couple of candy bars in my pocket.”

  “I know, kid. But cheer up. Judging from the light, we must be close to the surface. Which means help is near. Ready to explore?”

  Brian peered into the darkness. It might be lighter, but not much. “No. I’m not. But if it’s the only way we’re getting out of here, let’s go.”

  “Walk slowly and be on the lookout for low ceilings and bottomless pits. And we should probably keep the chatter inside your head.”

 
Shivering, Brian hunched his shoulders and whispered a prayer of protection to Brigit. He put his hand to the wall and reached out with one foot to test the ground before proceeding. When he had trudged downhill for what seemed hours and miles, Hamilton prompted him to stop and listen.

  A low-pitched hum whirred up ahead. And farther away, someone was talking. Brian’s heart sang. Rushing toward them, his legs locked and he pitched forward.

  “Why’d you do that?” he whined, picking himself up. “There are people. We’re saved!”

  “No, I don’t think so. The language sounds alien. It might be a trap.”

  “Know a lot about aliens?” Brian snickered.

  “A little. Enough to know to be careful. Shush!”

  That hit home. Brian flattened his back to the tunnel wall. The voices were louder and approached at a fast pace. Panicking, he turned to retreat but Hamilton stopped him again.

  “Shhh. Don’t move,” the druid said inside Brian’s head. “Aliens have acute hearing.”

  Brian froze. The voices were low and gruff, clipped and scary. Hamilton was right. These were no humans. Brian wrapped his arms around his shoulders and realized he was shaking. Ham mumbled something and his trembling quieted. The fear eased, but only a little.

  “Those things are headed our way,” Ham whispered in his head. “We need a plan. Some aliens are friendly. Others, not so much. These live underground, so they probably belong to the second category. Either way, your youth could be an advantage. Play it up. Cry. Bawl. Tell them about the earthquake and how you got here. Don’t be threatening, and maybe, just maybe, they will let us live. Got it, son?”

  In the shadows, two tall beings approached carrying on a steady stream of conversation. It sounded like nothing particularly important, like they were passing the time, shooting the breeze. Brian prayed they were friendly. Oh, goddess. What if they wanted to eat him? To boil him alive and fight over his carcass?

  “Hold it together,” Hamilton warned. “Here they come.”

  A brilliant beam of light pierced the darkness, joined by another. The exchange ceased as the beams found Brian’s face. Screeching in pain, he covered his eyes and doubled over. Then wailing as instructed, he crumpled to his knees and cowered on the floor with his arms over his head.

  “Don’t hurt me,” he sobbed with genuine fear. “I was trapped by the earthquake. I’m lost and need help. Can you help me? I’m just a child. Please don’t hurt me.” From the corner of one tear-filled eye, Brian watched the creatures. He was glad Hamilton had warned him, else he might’ve crapped his pants.

  More than seven-feet tall, the aliens stood upright and had greenish scales and snake-like faces that reminded him of Lizard from the old Spider Man movie. Or Killer Croc from Suicide Squad. Brian and his friends played those video games a lot.

  The aliens looked back and forth at Brian and each other. They wore nothing but wide belts with gadgets hanging from them. Above the belts, the breast and abdominal plates were much larger, and a lighter shade of green. The creatures were thin and muscular, with clawed hands and feet that could easily rip Brian apart with one swipe.

  He lifted his head to peer up at them. “Please, can you help me? Can you get me home?”

  The leader grunted something. The other responded.

  Would they let him live? Neither had drawn a weapon from those belts. Not that they needed one. The biggest guttered something meant for Brian. Not knowing how to respond, he remained silent. It grunted again and motioned for Brian to stand.

  When he did, the other twisted Brian’s arms behind his back and clamped something on his wrists.

  “Good job, Brian,” Ham whispered in his thoughts. “They’re not going to kill us. At least not yet. Otherwise, no need for restraints.”

  The brute shoved him and pain shot up his back. He yelped and nearly fell in the dirt. The creature prodded again, this time higher and not as hard. Brian took a tentative step. Were they taking him to their headquarters? Would they make him battle some ferocious monster to the death?

  “Doubtful,” Hamilton chimed. “But you do have quite an imagination, Brian. Ever think about a writing career?”

  “Writing? Are you kidding?” Brian stumbled ahead of the Croc-man. “I’m about to be eaten alive and you’re talking to me about books? What is wrong with you? I thought you were supposed to be some big-deal druid master and you’re talking to me about what I want to do with my life? Well, listen up, Sir. I may not be around much longer, in case you haven’t noticed. So unless you have something useful to say, like where they might be taking me, or how I can escape, then maybe you shouldn’t talk right now.”

  The druid had the nerve to chuckle in Brian’s head. Either the gravity of their situation wasn’t registering with Ham, or all the shifting between bodies had affected his brain. Or maybe, considering he could jump into an alien if need be, Hamilton wasn’t all that concerned about Brian.

  “What an awful thing to think!” Ham sounded genuinely hurt.

  “Alright, I take it back. But promise I won’t end up lizard food.”

  “I have a few tricks up my sleeve. Or rather, your sleeve. Just stick to the plan, keep up the harmless, help-me routine, and with luck, we’ll live.”

  Brian smacked his lips. “I need water,” he said over his shoulder to the creatures. “And food. I’m thirsty and starving.” His plea fell on deaf ears.

  The tunnel opened to another that was wider and brightly-lit from an unseen source. Something about it looked familiar. The floor was as slick and clean as the walls. Brian had heard about underground mazes and knew the druid nation had an extensive network. But this was not the same. These had been carved from bedrock and polished to a high sheen.

  The long corridor slanted downward, opening onto many side routes that veered off to who-knew where. The deeper they went, the hotter it grew.

  The leader hissed something into a handheld communications device. Brian paused, only to get shoved again. Grunting, he stumbled forward, wishing he could wipe the sweat from his brow. A hundred yards later, they turned left at a bank of elevators.

  What the hay? Was this an old bunker, abandoned and forgotten after the World Wars?

  The leader’s communicator beeped. He answered and growled something to the other brute, who turned and hurried back the way they’d come. One of the elevator doors slid open. Yelling gibberish, the alien shoved Brian so hard he flew across the threshold into a vacuum tube.

  Brian had just enough time to wonder why the alien hadn’t come with him before the door slammed shut. The car flew, down, down, down, until the heat became unbearable, and the tube bucked and shook. It continued hurtling downward for what seemed an eternity, then stopped abruptly. Brian slammed into the floor of the tight enclosure and something snapped. Had his wrist broken? If so, it didn’t hurt.

  “Well that wasn’t pleasant,” Hamilton said over the rumbling of the earth.

  “You can say that again.”

  “Well, that wasn’t pleasant.”

  “What? Are you five?” Brian stood to see what bones were broken and found his hands were free. The snap had been the wrist restraints breaking. He jabbed the air with both fists. Beneath his feet, the rumble intensified, then moved away through deeper chambers. The floor stilled. “Don’t you know we’re in danger?”

  “Of course, but I thought a teenager would appreciate my attempt at humor in what is certainly a dire situation. Lighten up, little raven. At least we’re free.” Hamilton gave him the internal equivalent of a prod. “I have a feeling this is not where they meant us to end up. We’ve been waylaid.”

  “And I smell those rotten eggs again. Is that why it’s so freaking hot down here?” Hamilton was silent. Brian mopped his face with his sleeve.

  They were not in a dungeon as Brian had feared, but a dirt cave. Or maybe this was what they used for a dungeon. Something about it, too, seemed familiar. He spied a dimly-lit passage and followed it until he reached a place where three t
unnels intersected. Two were blocked by crude doors.

  “And now I’m getting the feeling we’re being herded.” Hamilton cleared his throat.

  There were no knobs, levers, or finger holds in the doors, nothing carved out to assist in getting to the other side. Brian shoved against them, but neither budged.

  “It looks like it’s either go back or down that tunnel,” he said out loud. Something about it seemed slightly sinister. Even more than where they’d already been.

  “I vote tunnel,” mumbled the druid master.

  “Okay,” Brian gulped. “Here goes.”

  He walked as quietly as possible. It helped that the floor was hard-packed clay, soft and spongy beneath his sneakers. It muffled any sound he might’ve made. In places, the clay was damp and slippery, making progress slow. He soon figured out that water was seeping around the edges where the floor met the wall on his right. A plink sounded and echoed in the void, like glass or thin metal clinking together.

  Straightening slowly, Brian searched the dim tunnel. It all looked the same, but his awareness ratcheted up a notch. On high alert, he put one foot in front of the other until he reached the place he thought the noise had sounded. Inspecting the walls and floor, he found nothing. Just dust on the left side, sticky clay to his right.

  In his head, Hamilton said, “I’m with you, partner. That sound wasn’t natural. Let’s hurry, shall we?”

  Brian needed no further motivation. Remaining cautious, he quickened his pace until he spied a brightening at the end of the tunnel.

  “The sun!” he cried and hurried toward it, glee building. Until his legs buckled and Brian collapsed in a heap with a grunt. “What’d you do that for?”

  “I didn’t,” his hitchhiker said in his head. “You tripped.”

  “Did not.” Brian stood, dust flying as he patted his pants and wiped his hands on his ripped shirt. “My legs collapsed. There’s a distinct difference. But it’s probably a good thing. There might be more monsters out there.”