Shine: The Knowing Ones (23 page)

“Good one,” he replied.

Trin and Sam ran along the campus path. Trin began asking random questions. “Are you nervous for your performance tonight?”

“Not really,” she replied. “I’m actually looking forward to the distraction. It’s my first college performance. I’ll be fine. That final lift is the only thing I’m worried about.”

Trin huffed. “Yeah, that’s
my
favorite part.” He remembered “the lift” all too well.

Sam looked up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” he replied.

“Trin Kosolov,” she smiled. “Are you jealous?”

“I’m not jealous,” he said. “It just wasn’t my favorite thing to watch.” His speed increased.

Sam met his pace. “Ivan is gay, Trin.”

“I know,” he replied.

She cocked her head. She had never said anything before. Dismissing the thought she said, “So it’s kind of silly to feel threatened.”

“I don’t.” Again, he increased his speed. This time Sam took note. What was he doing? She tried to stay with the conversation. “Ivan is Russian.”

“I know.”

She looked up at him. “What do you mean you know?”

Trin glanced down at her. “Different cultures manifest in energy. Have you never noticed that?”

She looked down, intrigued. “No, I guess I never have.”

He glanced at her. “It is amazing the way you move,” he said “It’s really something watching you dance. I love it.” With that he sped up again.

At first she figured it was just his superior strength. His legs were a lot longer than hers and who was she kidding; he was an Olympic athlete. She had been pushing herself, not wanting to lessen his workout. But it was now obvious he had an objective. They were no longer jogging. They were
running.

“What are you doing, Trin? I don’t usually go for a daily sprint.” She tried to match his considerable speed.

He looked down at her; his hypnotic eyes glinting. “Keep up with me, Sam.” He took off in front of her at an unmatchable pace.

Sam gawked, soaked with perspiration, heart thundering, muscles aching. They had been running at a near sprint for a full minute now. She was about to voice her complaint when she realized that aside from the burning and aching she
was
able to continue. She pushed to catch him. When she reached his side she glanced up. His eyes shone.
He jerked his chin in the direction of the hill. They rocketed across the sidewalk, side by side, approaching a dirt path. Sam knew he intended to take it, and he wasn’t slowing at all. In fact his speed still increased. His eyes gleamed. “Outrun me, Sam.” Again, he shot past her, his powerful legs propelling him forward at a pace she could never hope to match, let alone beat.

Shaking her head she said, “I can’t do it, Trin.” They rapidly approached the inclined pathway.

“Yes, you can!” he yelled over his shoulder. “It’s in your core, Sam. Find it!” He lunged ahead, making no effort to accommodate her. For only an instant Sam felt defeated, overwhelmed. She gazed ahead at his masculine body in motion.
He
was convinced she could do this. She watched him, breathtakingly beautiful, his powerful muscles moving like a graceful, unstoppable, machine. He seemed to know her better than she knew herself most of the time, and if
he
knew she was capable he was probably right.

She dug deep, trying to find what he told her was there. Determination flared. Deep within her core, a source of power churned. An energetic sensation, seeping into her flesh, expanding throughout her body, invigorating every cell; every nerve it passed. With labored breath her energy increased. A rush of power and she flew forward, pulled by some unseen force. With no effort she passed Trin.

The pulling became suction. The suction became
powerful
suction and within a millionth of a second, a brilliant light flashed, a rushing sound, and the landscape around her ripped apart, yanking her forward, and she was gone.

“Sam!” Trin went from a sprint to an abrupt halt, spinning around, scanning, searching, finding nothing. She was gone.

CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

T
he eternal sky above was a thick black, with what seemed like a million bright stars twinkling in startling silence. Her heart thundered in her ears as she felt the cool grass and gritty dirt beneath her hands. Terror and confusion held her in place, shallow breath escaping her lips, in and out, thin and slow. Lush cool air, spiked with pine filled her nostrils, thinner but somehow cleaner—more of it to breathe.

She lifted her eyes from her ground position, scanning the foreign landscape. Behind her, a thick stretch of woods created a bristling wall of massive pine trees reaching to impossible heights toward the blackened sky. In front of her, an enormous mountain range capped in snow rose upward from a vast glacial lake. She sat in a field between the two. Deafening isolation filled the air, as though she had reached the farthest corner of the world.

“Trin.”

No response. She gasped under her breath, trying to reach him again, this time with her mind.
Trin, please,
she begged.

Nothing. She placed her palms against the dusty earth, pushing herself to her knees, trembling.
Where am I?
She tried to seek reason in a space that contained none.
How did this happen? What was I doing or thinking right as this happened?
She took a deep breath, trying to stay calm and find a way back.

A swoosh of branches, crunching undergrowth, and the sound of many feet.

Sam stopped breathing again, frozen still. Not an animal. Not wildlife at all. Footsteps coming toward her through the woods. She
scrambled to her feet, searching for a place to hide, and found a thick area of overgrown vegetation. She sprinted through the field, ducking down behind it.

“Он пошел сюда! Следуйте за мной!”
He went this way! Follow me!
The voice rang out through the towering pines. She knew the language and she knew the voice, her head dropping further, moving the brush aside just enough to confirm her suspicions. Sam went limp. This wasn’t happening.

About twenty feet from where she sat crouching, a group of men appeared, moving together through the wooded forest with the determination of a soldier platoon. Beautiful white-blue energy enshrouded each one, invigorating the environment around them as they passed through, the elements knowing them, welcoming them, especially the one in front—bathed in blinding gold blue the aura of a Keeper.
Anvil
.

She stared, captive. She had never seen him in the flesh, but it was him without question; the living, breathing version of the powerful spirit she’d met at Trin’s house just days earlier.

In a brief moment, prompted by desperate instinct, she nearly cried out to him for help, flooded with relief and comfort at the sight of him, but reason returned, holding her tongue. Anvil was alive in front of her. She had gone back in time.

She remained still as the dead as warriors dashed past her, the voices and footsteps faded until at last they were gone. Sam’s frenzied heart pounded, fists clenching at her chest. One deep exhale, then another.
Pay attention, Sam. Pay attention.

Another sound; someone returning from the direction the men had gone. She remained hidden as the figure approached, as he came into view she breathed in comfort. Anvil was back. Even if she couldn’t speak to him or illicit his help it soothed her to see his regal face, making her feel less alone. She watched him as he approached, drawing what comfort she could from him while trying to decide what to do next.

An energetic front hit her like lightening. Wrong aura. Not golden blue;
black.

Sam began to shake, not even daring to breathe. This was not Anvil. He came right for her, aura black, eyes black, even blacker than the thick of night he walked through. His beautiful features darkened with rage, radiating pure evil, anger and hatred, and he was looking right at her.

Tears brimmed her eyes as she tried to remain quiet. Closer, closer, his aura of rage flooded the area around her. Crippling fear consumed her and she opened her mouth to scream, but he walked past. Right as he reached her hiding place he turned, taking him to the right, into the wooded area beyond.

Stunned, and overcome with relief, Sam remained frozen, watching him retreat.

He stopped.

Sam shrunk deeper into the brush and froze.

He glanced down, head tilted to the side, muscular shoulders square. Unmoving, he stood for a moment, then turned. Raising his head, his eyes locked on Sam’s. A sense of bewildering shock flooded her at the confounding emotion that followed—
loss.

Ashbel turned back to the woods in front of him and continued forward disappearing into the massive, darkened forest.

Sam trembled in the brush, not understanding what she had just experienced. She should have been grateful he hadn’t seen her and should have started working on a plan to get back to Trin, but instead she rose, leaving the protective brush behind and followed.

She trailed him by a powerful inner pull keeping a safe distance, knowing full well Ashbel’s heightened gifts, hoping he would remain too consumed with hatred to notice her. She continued through the brush, barely allowing her feet to touch the ground, remaining as hidden as she could while keeping a sharp eye on the thick, dark head of hair that rested upon the same massive shoulders Anvil possessed. The same shoulders Trin possessed. She ached for him. She continued, slipping behind trees and shrubs as they became available.

Approximately five minutes had passed when a clearing came into view, a small, ornate village, dark, quiet. Ashbel continued, moving through the abandoned streets, his venom stinging the air. Sam stopped at the forest edge, uncertain if she could remain undetected. She watched as he made his way through the town.

The compulsion to follow remained, nagging. She darted out onto the dirt path, straight to the first available building for cover. Faint light radiated from several of the houses, but the sporadic luminescence was no match for the oppressive darkness that covered the village.

For a moment she lost him, not easy given the far reaching sting of his anger. Hugging the wall, she peered around the corner. The street still, no sign of movement anywhere from anyone.

Panic rose within her as she strained for a glimpse. A light, cool breeze swirled through the streets and houses, reaching Sam with a brisk reminder she was not dressed for a late night stroll in mountainous Russian terrain. She leaned against the wall, hugging herself, rubbing her arms, missing Trin like crazy. Rationale returned, forcing her to realize the danger of her actions.
What am I doing? Am I insane?

Her thoughts turned to Trin, contemplating how to get home, when she felt the familiar sting saturating the winds, wafting in her direction. He was back. She rushed to the eastern end of the house, darting around the corner waiting for him to pass. He never came.

She peered around the corner, finding him about twenty feet down the path from where she stood. She pulled back, heart pounding, trying to breathe. She hesitated, watching him go, knowing she had to follow. She tried to remember what Trin had taught her: breathe, abandon fear, and pay attention.

He crossed to the other side of the street and disappeared behind a corner shop. Dodging out from behind the wall she resumed trailing him. Falling in step, keeping a safe distance, and thanking the heavens above she had the cover of the village to hide under, she maintained her pace, ducking in and out of doorways as she went.

A large green hill came into view. She cast her glance off into the distance, finding a beautiful castle high on a cliff overlooking the large body of water she had seen upon arrival. A large stone structure complete with turrets and a grand staircase that stretched the full expanse of the front façade. Sam hung back a bit, shielded by a tree as she watched him ascend the hill.

As soon as he was at a safe distance she took up following him again, checking the thick grass and rocks beneath her feet, catching the elegant pines and foliage gleaming in the light of the moon. She arrived at the top, breathless, casting her eyes to the immense fortress and stared. Its presence as commanding as the individuals who built it. Behind it the bordering land made a sharp drop to the water. A massive mountain range surrounded the opposite side of the lake like a painting against the blackened night sky, the endless body of water stretching like a giant mirror between the mountain range and the cliff on which she now stood.

Strings of brilliant flowers draped the grounds, hanging from trees and working into the landscape. The surface of a small pond shimmered with white lit candles, floating like ghosts on glass.

Ashbel moved toward the castle door. Sam followed, getting as close as she dared. A tree close to the entrance provided cover. Ashbel stretched his hand out toward the door, checking for something. Something, it seemed, he expected. Upon touching the handle, his hand flew back as a visible shock of energy blasted outward, covering and sealing the entire castle in gleaming golden blue. A gale of wind ensued, steeped in the same energy veiling the structure, alive with intelligence. Anvil’s intelligence.