Lichgates: Book One of the Grimoire Saga (an Epic Fantasy Adventure) (10 page)

He laughed. “Fantastic. I can survive isen, but I’m not certain I could survive a crash in this archaic box.”

“Something tells me you can’t exactly be a car guru.”

“I told you that I travel out to the human world all of the time, remember? I usually find my way out here on isen hunts. I spent half of my adult life out here.”

Kara took a deep breath and gripped the wheel tighter.

Just go with it.

“Right. So how do you find the isen?” she asked.

She shifted gears, toying with the fantasy of driving her borrowed car along the old, hidden trail and straight into the lichgate. In her daydream, the gazebo exploded in what she considered to be just revenge. Lots of fire was involved.

“We get reports of missing yakona, usually,” he said, answering the question she’d already forgotten she’d asked. “Whenever there are rumors of even one isen, I have to investigate. When Richard taught me to hunt them, it was the only thing I could do better than anyone else. Since Hillside is the closest thing I have to a home, this is how I repay them.”

“I can’t tell which you hate more, isen or Carden.”

He scowled and looked out the window as she turned onto the main road. She should’ve kept her stupid mouth shut.

“Isen enslave souls. It’s hard not to hate something like that,” he said.

It took roughly fifteen minutes to get to the rental house, which had light streaming from every window. The car bounced as it pulled into the driveway and sputtered as she threw it into park. She unbuckled her seatbelt and took a deep breath before she could bring herself to slide out of the car.

“Stay here, Braeden.”

“Do you think he’ll like it if he sees me when he looks out the window? I should come in.”

She leaned on the Camry and examined the prince. His smudged green tunic and black pants matched the thick broadsword resting against the window. Its silver hilt peeked from the green leather scabbard and glinted in the street light. She cocked an eyebrow.

“You look like something out of a trashy romance novel.”

“I promise it’ll be worse if I stay out here.”

“You don’t know my—whatever. Suit yourself.”

She slammed the door and headed inside, avoiding the cracks in the sidewalk on her way. A row of bushes lined the path and Molly, her father’s limestone gargoyle, peered out from under one of them. Molly was about the size of a cat and bared its stone teeth from behind the sharp leaves, serving its purpose as the guardian of spare keys.

Kara twisted the front doorknob without trying the lock, and the door opened with a loud creak. The tiny hallway was warmer than the cool summer night outside, but she left the door ajar for the yakona behind her. She doubted her dad would care about the electric bill much longer.

There were several doorways along the hall, each leading to the various rooms of the first floor. Stairs hugged the wall to the right, and a china cabinet filled with photos rested against the wall across from them. Her dad had packed every photo they owned this year and set them up in their rental home as soon as they’d walked in. That way, he’d reasoned, her mom could be there with them on this lonely summer trip.

Kara swallowed the uncomfortable tightness in her throat and looked over the shelves. Her well-documented childhood sat on the wooden planks in frames and poorly made macaroni art.

A sharp thud and a muffled curse came from behind her. She turned to see Braeden rubbing his head, and on his second try, he took much better care to duck through the entry. He loomed in the hallway once he was through, the hardwood floors creaking as he walked, and his loud bang was answered by a flush upstairs.

“Lovely, Dad,” Kara muttered.

“Your mother was a beautiful woman,” Braeden said, nodding to a family portrait framed in the cabinet.

She wanted to say,
‘so was yours,’
but she never got the chance.

Bathroom light flooded the upstairs hallway. Her dad barreled around the corner and down the stairs, only stopping when he saw her standing in the foyer. He crumpled his newspaper and took the last four steps in a single leap before he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into the tightest hug of her life.

“Are you okay? Who is that? Where were you? Why didn’t you—”

“Dad, I’m fine, but we don’t have much time. You need to sit.”

She pushed him into the dining room and into one of its antique chairs, but she didn’t know what to say once he sat down. Her dad’s eyes flitted between her and Braeden, no doubt trying to figure out what was going on using the few clues he had.

“You’ll never guess what I found today, Dad.”

“You are in so much trouble, kid. I don’t care if you’re ‘just taking a break’ from college. If you live in my house you need to be in touch with me! I was scared out of my mind, Kara! Your phone went to voicemail, you—”

“I know, Dad. I know. I’m sorry. Some roots ate my phone. Well, no, that’s part of the story. I should start at the beginning.”

“Look at those scratches! Your shirt—did you fall again? Are you okay?” He reached out to check her arms for bruises.

“What? No. Well, kind of. But Dad, just listen!”

Kara took off the clover pendant and set it in front of him. He glanced at the necklace, but quickly glared at her again.

“Girl, you have two seconds to give me answers.”

“I found a secret path while I was on Salish. It took me to this gorgeous overlook with a little gazebo. Well, it wasn’t a gazebo. It was a lichgate—no, I’ll explain that part in a minute—I walked through it and I took this second little trail down a cliff. There was this door—no, Dad, listen!—a door in the mountain. I’m serious!” She cut off his very reasonable argument that people don’t build doors in mountains.

“It started raining so I opened the door and it kind of, well, roots grabbed me and ate my phone and I left my pack in the lichgate. I fell into this library and found a book and there was whispering, and then—” She groaned. “This isn’t working.”

She rubbed her face in frustration as Braeden desperately tried to stifle his laughter behind one of his massive hands. Her dad pointed a firm finger at him.

“You rufied my daughter, didn’t you?”

“No, sir.”

“I’m getting my shotgun”—he pointed again to the prince—“you better be gone when I come back. And young lady, you’d better not move.”

He glared at Kara and thundered from the room.

“Dad!”

Braeden shrugged. “You tried, Kara. I’ll grab him and we can explain later.”

She tapped the necklace. “Grimoire, what do I have to do to make you come back? Book, come on!”

Her dad returned with his shotgun in time to see glittering specks of dust jump and spark out of the necklace. They gleamed and congealed until they formed the glimmering blue outline of a book. As they all watched in the heavy silence, the Grimoire solidified. The stone in the pendant was clear once more.

The Grimoire’s thick red cover and aged pages were as heavy and real as they had been in the library. Kara sighed with relief and rubbed the binding.

Her dad sat down and stared at the book, the gun forgotten in his hand. He reached out to touch the leather as if it would bite him and flinched when his fingers grazed the spine. He jumped up from the table, rubbed his neck until it was red, and looked back at Kara. He didn’t even blink.

“What was that?”

“That’s called magic, old man,” a woman said from the doorway. “And tonight, your baby girl became one of the most coveted magical artifacts on the planet.”

Kara recognized that voice. Panic raced through her body. She slipped the clover necklace over her neck and pushed her chair back, its wooden legs scraping against the hardwood floor. A familiar brunette strode into the dining room.

Braeden drew his sword, and her dad did a double-take at the outdated weapon when he raised his shotgun.

Deidre clicked her tongue at the Stelian prince and grinned. “Haven’t you learned your lesson, boy? I always win.”

He wrung his hands on the sword hilt. “Not this time. Kara, you need to go.”

“Hold on there, Prince Charming. I just want to have a little chat. Girls only.” Deidre said. She looked at her reflection in a mirror on the wall and patted her hair as she spoke.

“Kara, why can’t you have any normal friends?” Her dad ran his hand over his receding hairline and licked his lips. His hand shook as he hovered over the trigger, his eyes shifting from the isen to the yakona without knowing what either of them truly was. He pointed the shotgun at Deidre.

“Oh, how scary.” She snickered.

“That’s enough! You and the boy need to get out of here. Now!”

Deidre glanced toward the Grimoire sitting on the table and walked toward it. Kara grabbed it and held it to her chest, backing away without knowing what else to do. Deidre shifted her gaze and walked with her, matching her pace.

“You can’t run from me, little one,” she said.

Kara held her breath and wished that the Grimoire was hidden like it had been before. She thought over the library, trying to figure out how she’d made it disappear the first time.

The book glowed in her hands as if it had read her thoughts, casting blue light on everyone in the room. It imploded, leaving a cluster of dust suspended in the air. Kara coughed. The stone in the pendant glowed blue. Deidre continued forward, only a dozen feet away, now, but Kara stopped when her back hit the wall.

Braeden ducked between her and Deidre, his sword raised to the isen’s neck. The demon laughed but stopped moving, throwing her hands up in mock surrender. Her dad took a step closer, his shotgun still trained on Deidre, but he grunted.

“Kara, why do I get the feeling that this gun is useless right now?”

“I’m sorry, Dad.”

“Get to the car, both of you!” Braeden ordered.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Deidre said. “All of Ourea is looking for the two of you. Some were only a few miles behind me. I promise that I’m your least painful option. Just come on over here, Kara dear, and I’ll make all this nastiness go away.”

“Kara, get out of here!” Braeden yelled again.

He raised his free hand and every vase in the room floated at the command. He flicked them toward Deidre with a sudden twitch of his fingers. Glass and porcelain hurled toward her. The isen shifted her gaze to Braeden and winked; when she did, all but one of the vases shattered. Flowers and potpourri rained onto the floor. Water splattered and rushed along the hardwood. Deidre smirked, lifting a freckled hand toward the last airborne vase and making a fist. It exploded in mid-air.

Kara froze, back to the wall, as shards of glass flew into her hair. Her dad grabbed her wrist and ran for the back door, clenching his shotgun so tightly that his knuckles bleached from the effort. She ran with him but turned her head in time to see Deidre lunge. The isen’s outstretched hands reached for Kara’s neck. A thin, silver barb extended from her right palm like a cat’s claw.

Braeden dove faster, though, and grabbed the isen’s outstretched arm, spinning her around so that she flew onto the table with a hard crash. The wood shattered beneath her weight, shooting splinters into the air. Something outside wailed. The lights flickered. Window panes shook, and her dad stopped short at the back door. He peered through the glass and shivered at whatever he saw. Kara turned back to the fight.

Deidre pushed herself to her feet and swung at Braeden. He ducked, his fist erupting into black flame. She slid behind him and kicked out his knee, sending him to the floor long enough for her to wrap her arm around his neck. His face went purple from the lack of air. She spun him onto his back and kicked him in the gut with the heel of her boot. He sputtered and curled around the blow, but Deidre grabbed his collar and hurled him through the dining room wall with a single, crushing blow.

He barreled into the night as the cool summer darkness leaked through the ripped wallpaper and splintered wood of the shattered wall. The power flickered and popped as it went out completely.

Moonlight shone a spotlight on the now-dark room, icing Deidre’s cold face as she stood and cracked her neck. The isen snarled and charged Kara again, fingers once more outstretched.

Kara lifted her hands in defense. Her veins smoldered. The familiar heat from the library raced through her, making her pulse ricochet through her ears. Time slowed. Every ringlet on Deidre’s head rippled behind her like a slow wave in the air. Warmth pooled in Kara’s palm, ready to spring, just waiting for a command.

Something threw its weight against her shoulder, tossing her off-balance. She toppled. The floor loomed closer, and the moment sped up once more. She looked back as Deidre wrapped her hand around her dad’s neck. The isen scowled, but couldn’t stop. The silver barb dug into his spine. His body tensed. His breath stopped. Deidre’s eyes glazed over. In seconds, he choked and fell with a thud to the ground.

Kara screamed. Her heart pushed against her ribcage as her father’s corpse stared back at her with wide eyes.

Deidre’s skin stretched and cracked. Bits broke away and fell to the ground to reveal the familiar nose and bushy eyebrows of her dad’s face beneath the demon’s. His features overwhelmed hers until he stood next to his own limp body.