Shadows and sage, p.1
Shadows and Sage, page 1
SHADOWS AND SAGE
By
A.N. Payton
Copyright © 2023 A.N. Payton
Edited by Danielle DeVor
Cover Design by MiblArt.
All stock photos licensed appropriately.
Published in the United States by City Owl Press.
www.cityowlpress.com
For information on subsidiary rights, please contact the publisher at info@cityowlpress.com
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior consent and permission of the publisher.
To Jake.
For everything.
Contents
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Epilogue
Sneak Peek of Deathbringer and Desire
Find Your Next Read
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Acknowledgments
About the Author
About the Publisher
Additional Titles
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Chapter One
Movement flickered at the edge of the tree line. My hand froze, inches above a cluster of green herbs. My muscles locked, refusing to turn toward the twisting phantom in the shadows. The ghostly image faded, and I sighed.
“Are you seeing it again?” Penelope reached for a yellow flower, her fingers short and thick with youth. “You’re supposed to tell us if you see it again.”
“I didn’t see anything.”
“You have to tell us before something bad happens.” She studied the bud, then let it fall. Not the right one.
“Something bad doesn’t always happen.”
Between the weeds, under the hot sun warming our hair and the gentle rustle of wind through the trees, I knew we were both thinking about the cat. Starving, pregnant, and sick, my ghostly stalker had poured magic into the animal and healed her in a heartbeat. Now, she and the six kittens meowed and rubbed our legs whenever we left our cottage.
“That’s true.” Penelope brushed a strand of golden hair from her face. Sweat streaked down the sides of her hairline and dampened her locks. The heavy weight of regret sunk deep in my chest. An eight-year-old should be playing with friends in the river on such a hot day. “But it’s usually bad.”
Memories trudged from the depths I tried to drown them in.
A thief on the road.
The silver flash of a knife.
His heart stopping under my palm.
I pushed the thoughts away, but Penelope’s face twisted as the memory ran through her mind.
“I promise to tell you if I see it again,” I lied.
She bobbed her head in acceptance, and I bit my lip to hide the guilt.
Grass crept up a gently sloping hillside and disappeared into the edge of a thick forest. Yellow flowers popped up here and there, taunting us as we searched for the correct herb. The recipe for our father’s medication required tansy flowers, but the blooms mirrored dandelions, wild sunflowers, and golden orbs of chamomile. My mother’s spellbook displayed a single, hand-drawn image of a tansy flower, and Penelope and I took turns squinting at the page. No luck so far.
I reached for another bud, plucked it from the woody stem, and brought it close to my face. A sweet, floral smell escaped from the plant, a chemical warning to its neighbors that danger lingered nearby. The other plants quivered in the wind, unable to run.
I pulled the spellbook closer and smoothed a crinkled edge of the worn paper. The tiny flower in my hand matched the elegant sketches from my mother’s pen. Finally. Only a few more and I’d be able to concoct another batch of my father’s medication.
The pages shifted beneath my fingers. My brow creased. The wind could barely flutter a page at its current strength, much less move such a hearty spellbook. I lifted the book, and the ground shook under its wooden cover. The vibrations strengthened until a low rattle buzzed inside my chest. I pressed my palm to the damp grass, and the roughness scraped against me.
“Natalie?” Penelope said.
“Just a moment.” The sensation intensified. The earth rocked beneath us in smooth, rhythmic motions. An earthquake?
“Natalie!”
“Penelope, I’m busy.”
“Look!” Her shaking finger pointed to our little house nestled in the crook of a shallow valley.
A black and silver tide swelled through the cluster of houses composing our village. Men and women on horseback, dark clothes buckled into armor that flickered in the sunlight. Thundering horse hooves rattled the ground, enough of the creatures to shake the earth from nearly a furlong away. As the soldiers neared, war cries drifted to us, followed by a more distant sound of screaming.
The twist of fear turned in my gut.
“Vampires?” Penelope’s face reddened.
“It’s a raid.”
“A raid?” Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. “The last time that happened…”
“I know.” I didn’t need to hear her say the words.
The soldiers flung open doors and rummaged through houses. They poured out, dragging goods and people in their wakes. The dark tide flowed closer to our perch on the hillside, and the smacks of horse hooves pounded a constant drum beating in my ears.
“Will they go to our house?”
I chewed my lip and tucked the spellbook under one arm. “I don’t know,” I answered honestly.
“We don’t have anything expensive.” Her voice sounded quiet but strong, and her little face hardened with courage much greater than her age. “And Papa’s too sick to be a soldier.”
“You’re right,” I said.
But I’m not too sick. Or too old.
Penelope wrapped her fingers around mine. I squeezed her hand as we watched the flood envelop our village.
The mass of soldiers paused at the edge of the community. Our house sat at the end of the valley, half-hidden by a swell of overgrown wheat that was once farmland but recently returned to wilderness. Two men peeled away from the rest and trotted toward it.
Penelope sucked in a breath and clutched my fingers until the tips turned white. I held hers just as hard.
More memories crept through my mind. Slick, warm blood on my fingertips. Pain in my throat as my useless chanting became screams. I shook my head. I couldn’t drown in my past failures. Penelope’s safety relied on my focus.
The men burst through our front door, and the frame buckled. My heartbeat filled my ears, blocking the shouts and horse cries. A red haze covered my vision until the only things left in the world were Penelope’s grip on my hand and the reassuring weight of my mother’s spellbook under my arm.
The pair retreated from the house almost as quickly as they’d entered. Nothing they wanted.
My breath released. The red haze slipped away.
“They’re leaving,” Penelope whispered.
“Looks like it.”
One of the men swung onto his horse. A giant man, practically dwarfing his partner, with thick red hair as visible as a beacon from the slope we stood on. His monster steed reared, stomping the ground and snorting with its ears pushed back. The man jerked the reins, and the animal turned the other way.
My heartbeat slowed. They were leaving.
The redhead glanced over his shoulder. He scanned the terrain and paused, looking in our direction.
Penelope stilled at my side. “Do you think he sees us?”
One arm, buckled into silver armor, lifted and pointed at us. His partner, mounted on a smaller steed, turned our way and nodded. The two directed their mounts toward us and started up the hillside.
Butterflies beat against the confines of my stomach. Penelope’s grip should have been painful, but panic numbed me. Bile clenched up my throat as my thoughts focused on the pair trekking closer.
“Can you do magic?” Penelope’s voice shook more than her hand in mine.
Good question. I glanced into the distance for the hovering phantom. Nothing. Of course, when I needed it, the creature disappeared completely.
I drew a breath. Maybe I didn’t need the phantom’s touch to direct my power this time. Maybe it would be different.
I closed my eyes and reached for my magic. I could feel it, a flu
Come on, work just this once.
I fought against the invisible cage that trapped my abilities. Mother may be dead, but the spell she cast to contain my magic remained as strong as ever. Every time I tried to purposefully wield the power, it failed to answer my call.
The spells slipped like sand through my fingers.
“No,” I said.
“What do we do?”
The men galloped closer. Weapons weighed them down on one side, but their horses appeared unhindered by the massive weights on their backs. I couldn’t see the vampires’ eyes, but I imagined the depths filled with fury and hatred. Two hundred years of war had clouded all our gazes with the same expression.
“Run.” The word fell from my lips as a combination of instinct and reality. Outrunning a vampire on or off a horse held little promise of success—but we had to try.
“What?” Penelope’s eyes pinched and glistened with unshed tears.
“Run!”
I pulled her up the hill. After two or three steps, her body caught up and she sprinted beside me. We ran toward the tree line while the smacks of hooves on damp ground grew closer behind us.
The trees stretched higher as we neared. Their shade should have been a welcome respite from the heat, but it felt like an ominous shadow swallowing us up. Vampires could easily outrun us, but dodging the trees would slow them down. The wooden pillars would either be our salvation or the bars on our cage.
The wet grass turned to mud at the forest’s edge. I conjured a mental map of the terrain. I’d grown up browsing these woods for ingredients for my mother’s spells. I never expected that the same places where lifesaving plants grew would become a haven from vampire pursuers.
I pulled Penelope to the left, and our feet sunk into the chalky forest floor.
Someone swore. The mud would make their pursuit miserable, maybe deter them completely. Surely, two witch girls weren’t worth following into the treacherous terrain.
“Did you see where they went?” asked the deep gruff of a man’s voice, much closer than I expected.
“No. I’ll go left. They can’t be faster than us in this damn muck.”
Heavy footsteps sloshed nearby. They had abandoned the horses.
I darted right, deeper into the trees. Penelope’s grip on one hand and the spellbook in the other slowed my speed. Vines dripped from the overhead canopy and spilt like poison into the dirt. Animals scurried out of our way, brushing across branches and rocks, an eerie symphony for our escape.
There!
I ground my heels into the mud when I saw the downed tree. At some point, the giant had succumbed to disease or a storm and fallen to the forest floor. Years had carved away the inside of the trunk, leaving behind an empty space the perfect size for an eight-year-old.
Skidding to a halt, Penelope ran into my legs. I jerked her forward and stuffed her toward the opening of the log.
“Get in and be quiet.”
She ducked into the hollow, then froze. She tried to pull herself out.
“What are you doing?” I pressed against her back, squishing her inside. “Get in there.”
“There’s not enough room!” she chirped. “You won’t fit!”
“Of course not.” The lies clung to my lips like expensive wine. “We have a better chance if we hide in different places.”
Penelope hesitated, caught between fear, logic, and trust. Regret cut deep into my chest. Her brown eyes, set into her paled face, looked at me with naïveté. If I didn’t stop lying to her, one day that trust would disappear.
“Okay.” She wiggled into the hollowed space and settled in the darkness.
“Here, take this.” I held out the spellbook, and it filled her arms, cradled against her quivering chest. “If you beat me home, put it under my bed with the others.”
I stepped from the log and dragged my feet through the mud until the evidence of a second set of footprints faded away. Relief washed over me in a cold wave. Penelope was smart. She would be quiet when they came.
More curses filtered through the trees. One of the men walked beyond the clearing. It wouldn’t be long until he caught me.
I bit my lip and did another scan of the area. I ached to find a place to hide, but the rocks and barren trunks offered little concealment. If I ran, the sound of my steps would give away my position.
Instead, I waited. Resolve became a noose around my neck, tightening with every moment of stillness. I fought against my flight or fight response as adrenaline coursed through my veins. My fingers shook. My breath came out ragged. Imaginary blood slipped down my fingertips. Would I meet the same fate as my mother?
The crashing grew louder, snaps of broken branches were almost on top of me. My mind filled with the sound of rushing water, a great icy river washing away logic, trapping me with only one thought: protect Penelope.
The redhead giant emerged from a thicket of clustered trees. Mud and grime marred his armor. Cuts he must have gotten from stubborn foliage healed as I watched. The skin knit together into an unbroken line, without even the hint of a scar. My mother would have been jealous.
Up close, the vampire was impressive. His massive form boasted ancestry from the gods of old. Those golden-red locks sat in neat rows, adorned with beads that glimmered in the wisps of peeking sunlight. They piled on his head like a crown, a radiant deity calling for my soul. A straight nose centered on his wide face, above full, rosy lips that broke into a smile when he raised his ocean-blue eyes and caught sight of me. Two pointed teeth shone sharper than the rest.
The frantic beat of my heart paused. My tongue turned to lead. The sweat on my skin became icy daggers, warning of the danger before me. Just like those plants I plucked from the soil, I had nowhere to run.
The intensity in his expression shifted. They flicked across my body, and my cheeks burned. I rolled my shoulders back and jerked my chin up. Laughter wrinkled the creases in the corners of his eyes. My defiance amused him.
“You’re a civilian.” His deep voice sounded like a stampede about to trample me.
I peeled my tongue from the roof of my mouth.
“Y-yes.” I flinched at the smallness of my tone. If my power wasn’t bound, I wouldn’t have been so weak.
“There were two of you.” He glanced around. “Where’s the other one?”
“She went a different way. If you haven’t found her by now, then she’s already gone.”
Please, Penelope, stay hidden.
He tilted his head, studying me. Something rolled across his face under the smooth mask he wore. Something dangerous.
“Come here.” He beckoned with one hand while the other palmed the top of a great battle axe, almost affectionately.
I shook my head. No way.
“You can’t be more than a hundred and twenty pounds soaking wet. What do you plan to do?”
He reached toward me, and I took a step back. His lips turned up in a grin, and a flash of silver rolled through his irises. I’d heard rumors of vampires showing emotion through their eyes. Seeing it in real life drew a shiver down my spine.
He clutched at me again, and I backed away, but he proved too fast. One hand caught a firm grip on my shoulder and the other grabbed the bottom of my chin. Though bands of muscle suggested his strength, he kept his hands soft. Tight enough that I couldn’t escape, but not to leave a mark on my skin.
He lifted my face up to the hint of illumination filtering through the trees. The smell of evergreen and mint wafted over me, taking me to the vague remains of an almost memory. A layer of surprise escaped through the fear. I expected the sharper scents of sweat and blood.
