Fighting Destiny (Central Coven) (34 page)

“What about your happiness?” He placed his hand against my face, “Please, don’t worry about me.  I have had centuries to consider what makes me happy. You are only now figuring it out.  If fate pulls us apart, and we can find our way back together I will believe we are meant to be.”  “How many times do we have to find our way back together for you to trust my feelings for you?” I demanded.  “I know this is hard, but I know I am going to have to leave soon.  How you manage our separation is your choice.  If you choose to wait for me, I will come back to you as soon as I can.”

“I’m glad you told me.  My father was right.  I did need to know, because now I have an idea how dirty Alexander is willing to play.  Also, if Simone and Alexander have been together a long time, which I am starting to think that they have, she will be just as bad.  This is going to be rough.  I’m not sure we are going to get out of this without some damage on our side.”

“Maybe not.”  Grey shrugged.  At that pessimistic answer I dropped my gaze to my boots.  It was bad enough my confidence was faltering, but I needed him to be strong for me.  I was depending on him.  I didn’t know how to kill, and from what I had just learned about him I knew he could handle it.  He could get me through the violence and see me back to myself. 

“Chloë, look at me.  I’m not saying we are going to lose anyone.  We will all be looking out for each other.  Everyone will do their best to protect each other.  But, I can’t promise you none of us will get hurt.  Still, getting hurt is better than dying.  Alexander is going to die, but he is going to put up a hell of a fight before he lets that happen.  This is going to be a dirty business.  We are going to be damaged, Chloë. It might just be mentally from what we will have to do, but none of us will ever be the same after this.”

All I could do was bury my head in his chest.  He was right.  I was fighting destiny with both fists, but I was the one getting pummeled.  I had a job to do, and whether I liked it or not I had to do it.  For now, at least, I chose to battle what I was meant to instead of fighting the wind.  Maybe destiny will let me keep Grey if I cooperated.

Spirals of smoke snaked high into the winter sky.  Beneath them danced hungry flames consuming large logs of pine and aromatic cedar.  The sap crackled and tiny sparks danced away from the fire.  Dean and Finn were arranging more logs nearby to feed the eager fire while Anita stared transfixed into the colors of orange, red and blue.

Grey and I moved next to her and my father began to chant in a language that had not been spoken in dozens of generations.  “Tonight we prepare to fight that which has no form, but can still do harm.  We fight what we cannot touch, but what can touch us,” Eli Soaring Eagle instructed.

With those words shapes began to appear out of the smoke.  Some took the shape of animals, some ancient Native American warriors, others more pedestrian ghosts.  All of them turned their focus on us, and I knew then I was in over my head.

How do you fight something you can’t touch?  Instinctively, I closed my eyes, and I reached into a magic I had never felt before.  I saw a bridge connecting the human world to the supernatural world. Suddenly I knew we weren’t here to be set apart, but to protect.  We exist to make sure they do. 
We
are the balance.  Necromancers are supposed to ensure passage from this reality to the other.  Shifters are supposed to keep order in the animal kingdom.  Witches are to preserve, to govern, and to
Council
. Vampires, though they were not supposed to have been created, act as a sort of enforcement. 

“How do I keep the balance?” I asked my father.  “Chloë, you amazing girl!” my father exclaimed.  “You are progressing so much faster than I ever hoped.  I will teach you.  Since you are my daughter, this is your gift too.  You must reach out to them, show them that you are here to preserve and protect.  Spirits are pure.  Even Alexander’s spirit, though it is tainted now.  When he is released he can find peace.  Only demonic beings will want to do harm, but a necromancer cannot control those, only ask for their assistance.”

“I wouldn’t put it past Simone to seek the help of demons,” I commented.  “Nor would I, but their assistance is unreliable and just as likely to turn against you,” my father replied.  “Alright then, for now let’s assume that she will be using ghosts to attack us.  But, I’m still unconvinced that she won’t try and use demons against us as well,” I conceded.  “First things first Chloë,” my father cautioned.

Eli turned to all of us and began to instruct on how we could disperse misplaced spirits.  “If Simone has been able to convince them that you are trying to disrupt the natural order of creation they will attack you to protect themselves.  Their existence depends on maintaining the balance between the supernatural and the natural.  It is their sacred duty to protect the afterlife when a necromancer calls them into this world.  Ordinarily, only a necromancer with good intentions calls a spirit into this realm.”

“We have to show them she is a black-hearted head-case then?” Anita asked.  Eli laughed quietly, displaying soft wrinkles around his mouth, “Yes child.  Something like that.”  “Chloë and I will open the gates to the after-life, by asking the Creator to take his children home, while the rest of you lead them to the opening.  Since you are not spirits you will not be able to enter. Don’t worry, there will be no risk of getting too close,” he explained.

Dean’s usually confident expression melted into one of confusion.  “Dean you have a question,” Eli observed.  “I’m sorry.  I don’t mean to doubt you, but this sounds too simple,” Dean admitted.

“It does sound that way.  But, until we are able to lead these spirits back to where they belong they will be able to reach into your soul and play on every doubt and pain you have ever had.  When I said they would be able to do you harm it was not physical harm I was referring to.  Sometimes the most lasting harm we can endure is emotional.  The scars these spirits might inflict can be more damaging than anything Simone or Alexander can do to you.  Do not forget that,” Eli warned.

“So are you going to show us how to fight these ghosties or what?” Anita demanded impatiently.  “Anita,” Dean chided.  “Oh c’mon Dean.  I’m with her.  These see through spooks give me the creeps too.  I feel like they are looking right through me,” Finn spoke up for the first time.

“They are,” my father confirmed.  “They are looking through you and into you.  They are seeing your worst fears, your hopes, your biggest mistakes, and they are preparing to use all of them against you.  They will find every shred of doubt you have inside of you and manifest it until you are not sure what you are fighting for.  Be prepared for that.”

“Fantastic.  Because, I wasn’t creeped out by them enough before.  Thanks for the pep talk,” Finn replied sarcastically.  “Hey, when did you start sounding like Anita?” I asked him.  Finn jokingly pushed my shoulder.  Grey scowled at our playful banter.  “That’s good.  Hold on to each other.  The good things in your life keep you strong.  It shows them who you are and that you are here to help,” Eli replied to Grey’s unvoiced criticism.

Eli threw some logs on the fire, and the smoke swirled and tumbled madly.  I knew something was coming.  I knew it was time to fight.  First the animals raced down out of the choking cloud, and instinctively Dean transformed into a cougar.   Then Native American warriors thundered toward us on their long dead horses.  Finally, ghosts of regular humans from all time periods walked out of the haze, wearing the clothing from their eras. 

At first we all reacted out of fear.  Dean tried to attack the animals that raced at him.  Finn threw up walls of branches.  Anita hurled herself at her attackers.  I launched fire and other magical explosions at warriors on horseback.  Grey, at least, tried to dodge the ghosts that came at him.  The result was the same. Everything we tried went right through our attackers.

The sound was deafening.  It was like hearing every conversation you have ever had at the same time.  Every voice, plus your own heartbeat, and your own breath, amplified in your ears.  Then all of that is joined by that nagging ringing sound that begins deep in your ears when noise gets too loud, and you feel like you are going mad. 

I looked around me and I saw a green thread linking me to each of my friends and my father.  I tried to take a deep breath in, focus, and grasp it, when I heard a scream of intense pain. I lost my concentration.  I turned around trying to see who was hurt, and there on the ground to my left laid Finn, crumpled in a ball. 

He opened his mouth to scream again, and in rushed a spirit dressed in clothing from the Victorian age.  Finn began to thrash about violently.  He pulled on the dead grass.  His eyes rolled into the back of his head.  His back arched up off the ground as if someone tied a string to his middle and tried to pull him up by that one point alone. 

I tried to run to him, but someone held me back.  I carelessly tossed a jolt at them to let me go.  I acted on instinct.  I only knew that Finn was suffering, and I had to stop it.  I placed one hand on his forehead, which was rocking back and forth wildly under my touch, and with the other hand I raised it up to the sky.  “Creator,” I asked, “please welcome your child back with you in the after life.  Show him we are the true guardians of balance between the supernatural and natural worlds, and allow him to, once again, rest in peace.”  The gate that opened glittered with colors of pearl white and gold.  Once again at peace, the spirit stopped thrashing.

Finn tried to speak, but instead of words coming out the ghost’s cold presence travelled up his chest, up his throat, and out his mouth.  Finn shivered violently, heaved, and threw up.  I kept one hand on him, while motioning with my head for Anita to take my place. 

She objected with her eyes, to which I responded by rolling mine.  “Eegh!” she protested audibly this time.  “Oh come on whiner!” I said with a laugh.  “He needs someone, and I need to keep this portal open.  You don’t think a man can do this do you?”  “No,” she said with a scoff.  “I mean sure Dean is sensitive, but look at him, he’s still a cougar.  He’d probably pee on him or something,” Anita joked.  Dean walked past and growled at Anita, and pushed Finn with his nose.  “Sorry babe, it was just a joke,” Anita apologized.

Seemingly content, Dean approached me.  I looked into his nearly glowing, feline eyes, and I could tell he was trying to communicate with me.  I’ve never had a pet before, I’ve always wanted a dog, I’m fairly certain I’m allergic to cats, and I certainly don’t know how to talk to one.

Cougars are loud.  Dean began staring at the animal ghosts and released an ear shattering, “Reeyaohhh.”  He bared his large, sharp, canine teeth, and shifted both of his shoulders back and forth in a rhythmic motion as if he was about ready to pounce on prey.  It was then I understood what he was thinking. 

I reopened the portal the same way I had before.  Then I charmed Dean to glitter in similar colors of brilliant gold.  It took only a fraction of a second for me to link him to the portal, and even less time for him to launch himself forward away from where I was standing.

Ghosts of deer, elk, rabbits, moose, and even a bear scurried from the golden cougar.  The natural order, hunter and prey, superimposed itself over the ghostly disorder.  In ones and twos the animals fled into the golden gateway.  The only remaining animal was a large buck.  He stopped just outside the entrance of the portal, glanced at us over his shoulder, and nodded. His majestic antlers made the gesture all the more profound.  Then he calmly, and with dignity, stepped into the after life.

Dean began to purr, content with his part in the lesson.  I took note of Dean’s success, and decided it was my turn to lead spirits back into paradise.  I thought about my greatest asset to convince Native American warriors I had not completely forgot the ways of my people, and I would preserve the balance.  I closed my eyes to think.

I felt the icy touch of the dead.  It was not
on
my skin so much as
in
my skin.  I heard voices in harmony saying, “You’ll never be good enough.  You’ll let them down in the end.  The world would have been better off if…” “Enough!” I screamed.  Everyone looked at me.  Finn said in a shaky voice, “You heard it too?”

“Yes, Finn.  I heard it too.  Now I’m going to stop it,” I replied with confidence.  They were trying to play on my doubts, but I had decided to be done doubting myself.  Instead they pissed me off.

“Mickey!  Are you here? I need you,” I called out trying to find my spirit guide.  Mickey, the red tailed hawk, was around almost constantly. I knew she was now, but I wasn’t certain if she would come to me.  Suddenly, with the slightest disturbance of air, she swooped down and landed on my outstretched arm.

When the ghost warriors saw me with my spirit guide they dismounted from their horses, and regarded us with puzzled expressions.  Though they did not speak, I could feel the tenor of their thoughts.  They decided I was one of “the people.”  I ran one hand down Mickey’s feathered back, and she began to sparkle with the same charm I cast on Dean.  The portal was still open, and Mickey flew towards it leading the warriors. They entered the gate singing ancient songs of victory.

There was still the matter of the ordinary ghosts to return to the after life.  I was expecting this to be the most difficult.  The shifters wanted us to prove the environmental order would be preserved, and Dean did that.  The warriors wanted to see that their ways were not being forgotten, and I showed them I had not forgotten.