Plague of Death Read online

  Her body slammed hard against the rocks, again and again. Her lower spine erupted with pain. Her lungs felt as though they were about to burst as the cold darkness suffocated her.

  My time is over, thought Van as she jerked at the water’s will. Forget about being the best warrior. About protecting my people from demons. None of that matters now.

  Her desire to breathe increased in intensity until she couldn’t hold it any longer. Icy-cold liquid filled her airways and lungs.

  Death had come for her.

  Terrified, her mind searched for a way to survive. She didn’t want to die, to be absorbed into the blackness. To become nothing.

  But, there was no way out. Her life journey had come to an end.

  Fight! A voice came to her. It was her spirit guide, Jacynthia. The beast is coming. You must protect your people.

  The beast? Van’s attention moved to her surroundings; a roar filled her ears. The beast was here. It had disguised its jaws as the undercurrent; slimy seaweed, its saliva; rocks, the beast’s teeth.

  The Quasher! The supernatural shadow-wolf that never stopped hunting the Anchoress—hunting Van. The beast had broken its bindings and returned. Pure darkness and had come through the ocean to snuff her light. To kill her.

  Van trembled. She was not equipped to face such a deadly enemy, one she could never beat.

  And she was out of air.

  As the Anchoress, Van’s bloodline belonged to her people. She had a responsibility never to surrender her light to the darkness. Not without a fight.

  “Fight!” Van said to herself at the same time as Jacynthia.

  Van twisted and punched in the water, but the current slowed her movements. The dark beast gripped her and pulled her deeper into its mouth.

  Her head and shoulders jolted against something large and firm. The beast’s teeth?

  Her shoulders became weighted with pressure.

  The Quasher’s tongue?

  She closed her eyes tight as if blocking out the certainty of her death might stop it.

  The tongue rolled her body, causing her to face upward.

  I’m in the beast’s mouth.

  Her chest ached. Pressure from the Quasher’s teeth crushed her as it chewed her torso.

  Light filtered through her eyelids—so dazzling she partially opened them.

  A shadowy figure eclipsed the brightness. Van assumed the Creator had come to claim her soul. To snuff her out of existence.

  A swoosh of heated air drifted over her face, and then warmth covered her lips.

  What the—?

  Her stomach lurched as a wave of nausea consumed her. She didn’t want to puke, but up came seawater and bile, splashing down her chin and neck. A bit trickled into her nostrils.

  Van coughed so hard it felt as though she needed to expel her lungs to get enough oxygen. Finally, the coughing seizures stopped and her head cleared. She fully opened her eyes and saw a boy’s blurry face hovering in front of her.

  “Van?” She heard Paley’s worried voice off to the side.

  “She’s breathing,” the blurry boy said.

  The tone of his voice gave her a feeling of cozy safeness.

  Van gasped a breath of salty air and hacked again. Then, she threw up a bit more.

  “She’s fine,” Brux said dismissively. He had been the boy doing CPR on her.

  Van rolled onto her side and wiped the drool off her chin and mouth with the back of her wrist.

  Brux helped her sit upright.

  “Besides a few scrapes here and there, you seem okay,” he said.

  “W-w-w-wipeout!” Paley sang and swirled her hips in a dance, trying to make Van feel better. Or at least not quite so embarrassed, especially after Brux had dragged her out of the ocean and saved her life.

  “Did your imaginary friend keep you from drowning?” Paley asked, smirking.

  “Her name is Jacynthia,” Van croaked. “And she’s not imaginary.”

  “Still haven’t seen her, but after last summer, I won’t take anything for granted.” Paley chuckled.

  “Not funny.” Brux scowled. “Van, you almost drowned. What’s wrong with you? Risking your life. A life that’s not yours to lose.”

  “I was practicing,” Van said, resulting in another coughing fit.

  “Practicing what? How to die?” He stood.

  Brux irritated the snot out of her. He never gave her room to breathe. He treated her like a child, always telling her how she should act and what she should think, based on his own opinions rather than letting Van figure things out on her own. She preferred to use her own mind so she could grow in a way that suited her, not him.

  “It’s an uphill battle with you.” Brux faced Van, hands on hips. “You’re not fully trained, and you’re fighting the curse your ancestor Amaryl put on the Anchoress bloodline. Do you want to throw your life away? Your powers? That would be a pretty rotten thing to do to your people.”

  “I’m in training to protect your ass from demons, or did that slip your mind?”

  “My ass?” Brux’s eyes widened in offense. “You’re sick. You know why? Because it seems like I just saved your ass from drowning!” He shook his head as he walked away. “Bad luck follows you, Van.”

  “You’re my protector,” Van yelled after him. “What, you want a medal for doing your job?” She raised herself from the ground, hiding that her legs were shaky and weak.

  “I’m well aware why I’m stuck on this island.” Brux’s voiced trailed off as he stomped away, leaving deep footprints in the soft sand. “No more surfing at Blackrock,” he commanded without turning around. “That’s an order!”

  “Bite me,” Van muttered, glowering at his departing figure.

  Paley giggled.

  Done with surfing for the day, the girls retrieved Van’s board that had drifted down the shore and then headed back to the beach hut at Whitecap.

  Van didn’t speak much; she mostly listened as Paley rambled on about who was wearing what to where and whom she suspected had a crush on whom. She used Paley’s chattering like white noise, allowing her to process the encounter she’d just had with Brux.

  He knew how to push Van’s buttons, second only to her stepmother, Genie. Van’s greatest fear, even more so than facing the Quasher in real life, was falling into the emotional abyss that gaped inside her. She hated the idea of exploring her feelings. Especially about last summer.

  Her stomach knotted every time she tried to reconcile her confrontation with Solana. The Balish princess possessed wealth, privilege, and power, yet still succumbed to the lure of evil, to her dark master. A demon so powerful it seduced the heir to the Balish kingdom.

  In self-defense, Van had used the Coin as a weapon against Solana, murdering the Balish princess. However, Solana’s death wasn’t the most upsetting part. Van had used her Anchoress powers to kill a human.

  As a Grigori in training, her career would be to hunt and slay demons in the Earth World. Over time, the negativity, violence, and misery of the unwitting terrigens generated these demons. Once formed, they lurked, existing at a low vibration like that of the Earth World, gaining strength from negativity so they could continue to search for the portal, always seeking the higher vibration of light that was abundant in the Living World. So they could destroy it.

  Van had been warned to use her powers to fight real evil, not against each other. By using the power of the Coin against Solana, she attached to the dark part of her Self and therefore had to pay a spiritual price, damage to her soul.

  Brux’s words rang true. Bad luck followed Van in the form of her ancestor’s curse.

  Though Solana was evil in human form, no doubt, Van had used abilities that gave her an unfair advantage in her fight against the Balish princess. Did that make Van evil too?

  The answer to this question made her queasy.

  Ever since Solana’s death, Van could feel the restless pull of darkness that wriggled inside her, the constant tug-of-war between the good and evil
parts of her soul. She feared to look too closely, afraid she would end up like Solana, drawn to a life of evil.

  So Van closed off all feelings. It was the only way to stay on track, do her duty, and maintain the strength of a warrior.

  Her hand throbbed, breaking her swirling thoughts. The cut from her encounter with the rocks remained bloody and painful. She also noticed aches in at least three places on her body from the trashing of the undercurrent.

  By the time Van and Paley entered the small, wooden beach hut at Whitecap, Van began to hyperventilate.

  “What’s wrong?” Paley clasped Van’s arms to steady her.

  “I need to sit for a bit.” Van collapsed into a cushioned wooden chair.

  “Are you injured?”

  “Shh.” Van covered her eyes with her palms and hunched over. Her head pounded so hard it hurt her eardrums.

  I’m weak. Evil lurks inside me. I should be locked away for the safety of my people.

  She deserved to suffer the same fate as Solana and be murdered by someone—maybe Brux. No, even better, Ferox, Solana’s younger brother, the current heir to the Balish kingdom.

  If death weren’t so final, Van would ask Jacynthia to snuff her out of existence, take her Anchoress light and give it to someone else. Unfortunately, only Van had the power to transfer the magic of the Anchoress bloodline, and only to her first-born daughter. Without an Anchoress, the Lodian people were at risk of being taken over by the Balish and vulnerable to losing Dishora—a Lodian prophecy that describes an inevitable war between good and evil, a time when darkness rises seeking to destroy all light.

  That wouldn’t do at all.

  Van began to calm herself and quiet her mind by using controlled breathing techniques. She leaned back in the chair, allowing her hectic thoughts to be overridden by the distant splashing of the waves, the lull of the seagull’s cry, and distant voices of her classmates playing volleyball. Paley remained mercifully silent.

  Van’s anxiety subsided.

  An amaranthine glow entered her mind’s eye.

  Van’s lips curled into a smile. As expected, the luminescence came into focus.

  A woman appeared before her with white-gray, waist-length hair that flowed in an ethereal breeze. Her light-blue eyes twinkled with the energy of youth.

  Jacynthia!

  The elderly woman appeared to Van in times of emotional crisis, to offer guidance. Van’s delight over a visit from her friend faded as she noticed her spirit guide was not smiling. She braced, ready to get another scolding for surfing at Blackrock. In her mind’s eye, Van looked questioningly at her spirit guide.

  Jacynthia said in her monotone voice, “All losses have a purpose. It aids in our understanding that true reality is something greater than ourselves. We should not seek reality in form but in the infinite.”

  Like so often, Van had no idea of the meaning behind Jacynthia’s words. Van’s aching body entered into her consciousness. Her connection to her spirit guide faltered, and Jacynthia flickered.

  Van breathed to calm herself again and refocused her attention on Jacynthia.

  She opened her mouth to ask for clarity, but Jacynthia continued as if to answer Van’s unspoken question.

  “You must heal the soul before the physical body is healed. Although emotions are painful, we cannot escape them. Do not attempt to avoid them or it will lead you into darkness.”

  Jacynthia’s words confused Van and for some reason made her feel alone. She wished the Elementals would let her date Brux.

  “Life is not always going to give us what we want,” Jacynthia said. “Negative emotions like bitterness and disillusionment will feed the dark part of the Self. An important step on the path to spiritual maturity is to learn how to relate to these realities. Remember, you are never alone. You are never separate from the Creator.”

  “Van!”

  Van’s shoulders shook from Paley’s grip, breaking her connection with Jacynthia.

  Van opened her eyes and glared at Paley. “Why would you do that?”

  “I didn’t know if you were in a coma or something.” Paley looked pale. “You scared me.”

  “I’m fine.” Van raised herself from the chair. “Let’s get going.”

  The girls changed and headed back home. Along the way, Van updated Paley about her latest visit from Jacynthia.

  “I don’t get it,” Paley said. “Why can’t she tell you what you need to know straight out. Why be so cryptic?”

  Van shrugged.

  They reached the crossroads.

  “You coming over for breakfast before we hit training?” Van asked.

  “I can’t today. Head Mistress Griselda is going through a phase where she wants us to eat breakfast together at the same time, to make us feel like a family.”

  Even as Paley rolled her eyes, Van could see the joy shining in them.

  “Make sure you take care of that hand.” Paley continued walking forward as she turned to give Van her parting words of concern, not paying attention to where she was headed.

  “Watch it,” Van cried.

  Paley swerved, almost taking down a slim tree with a birds nest tucked between its branches. It wouldn’t have hurt Paley to walk into the sapling, but Van could hear the chirping of hatchlings. Paley plowing into the tree would’ve upset the nest.

  Van’s chest ached in the area of her heart, and she rubbed her fingers over it, hoping to stop the sensation.

  “Make sure you’re on time for training,” Van said, disappointed over the obliviousness of her friend. Part of being a warrior involved awareness of your surroundings.

  “Natch,” Paley said with a smile.

  Van grimaced as she watched Paley disappear down Reservation Road toward the Gables Orphanage. Her friend had no ichor in her blood, meaning she was a terrigen, a person who belonged in the Earth World. A terrigen could never become a Grigori. The Elders would never allow it.

  Van made her way down Sandy Cove Lane in the direction of Mt. Hope Manor, worried about her concern for the baby birds. She had let her emotions take control. Bad move for a warrior. She resolved to train harder to make up for it.

  When she reached her driveway, Van paused to notice a beautiful, lone, amber-colored flower growing out of a crack. The flower had risen despite the adversity of the concrete. It had grown from a small glimmer of sunlight, giving hope to passersby that they too can break free of their own difficulties.

  Van huffed. She had no time for another emotional distraction. She had to focus on building her inner strength to fulfill her destiny as a legendary warrior.

  Disgusted with herself for displaying emotional weakness, she crushed the flower with her foot as she strode toward the front door.

  Chapter 3

  Van swept through the back door of Mt. Hope Manor, the one opening directly into the kitchen. She expected to see Genie prepping breakfast. But her stepmother wasn’t there.

  After Van’s father died, Genie reduced their housekeeper’s hours. Luma still cleaned the house, but she also used to cook all their meals. At first, Van dreaded the thought of Genie taking over the household cooking. However, Genie apparently excelled at everything she put to task.

  Another change included Genie rarely leaving the house. Her stepmother still made trips to the reservation to use the portal in the House of Lacus so she could go shopping in Lodestar Village. That was about it.

  Van never cared much for her hypercritical stepmother. Yet, her dislike grew stronger this past year as she watched Genie ramble around the manor like a lonely, old lady.

  The wall clock ticked, showing the time to be a few minutes before 8 a.m.

  “Humph.” Van leaned back against the wall by the open window, crossing her arms. If she couldn’t be eating or training, then she didn’t want to be doing anything. She wondered when Genie would decide to get her butt out of bed. In the meantime, Van had time to do something, but what?

  “Eppp errp.”

  A fluffy white puff nestle
d on the lawn looked up at Van through the open window.

  “Hi, funny little thing,” Van answered.

  Wiglaf chirruped, fully raising his long ears.

  She went outside and met Wiglaf on the grass. They meandered through the manor’s maze gardens.

  Van’s footsteps crunched under the river rocks forming the garden’s pathways, whereas Wiglaf didn’t make a sound. He hop-scurried, using his little legs on his bunny bottom and longer front cat legs to bounce up and down. He seemed happy to accompany Van to her favorite spot on their property, a hilltop that overlooked the Atlantic Ocean.

  Van stretched her arms high above her head.

  She blinked. “Did I glimpse a speedboat?”

  Wiglaf turned his whiskery nose toward the sea, then he quizzically looked up at Van.

  “I saw something bobbing in the open water.” She furrowed her brow. “I think.”

  Strange. The authorized docking areas were in Buzzard’s Bay, on the opposite side of the island. She blinked again to gain focus and saw nothing but empty ocean.

  She shrugged, kicked off her sneakers, and placed her feet with big toes touching and heels slightly apart. She raised her arms toward the sky and settled into the mountain pose. Then, began the Sun Salutation yoga sequence.

  Wiglaf curled into a ball on the lush grass for a snooze.

  Doing yoga made good use of her idle time. The practice increased muscle strength, tone, and flexibility, enhancing her ability to excel athletically.

  She bent forward. Her injured hand throbbed, her back and ribs ached, but she breathed through the pain. Warriors didn’t feel pain. She didn’t feel pain.

  Then she moved into her favorite pose, virabhadrasana, the warrior.

  She had learned to do the Sun Salutation in her gym class as a continuous sequence with no stopping between poses. But Van held the warrior pose to push her body.

  Van breathed deeply, filling her lungs with fresh sea air. She took in the beauty of the horizon—the gorgeous blues of the sky, the blue-greens of the ocean, the varying shades of greens in the trees below her and in the surrounding fields.

  Even as her muscles strained to maintain her pose, Van fully appreciated the glorious day. She treasured the scents of pine and oak and the salty sea. The vibrant colors of the landscape. The ability to do her yoga sequence. All were energizing and positive. Yet when Van looked deep inside herself, she felt…nothing. Perfect.