Thunder: The Shadows Are Stirring (Thunder Stories Book 1) (5 page)

“Yes,” I whisper, “you are
ours
.”

Chapter Three: Circle Time

(OLIVIA)

T
HE NEXT EVENING
, as the sky paints itself pink and gold, we join Gunther and his current crew at the fire pit behind the house. Though Gunther’s house is perched on a mountain, the land behind it forms a beautiful plateau surrounded by trees. The fire pit, a large clearing with a ring of head-sized rocks, is centered here in a meadow that slopes gently to the edge of the forest. At that point, the land plunges and heaves again. Circling the rocks are four half-hewn log benches. A perfect spot for marshmallows and spooky stories. In the springtime, the grasses and flowers create a multicolored sea, with waves that rise and fall in the breeze. By summer everything is at least waist high; we used to crawl through it, flattening trails and hiding from each other.

Although Jamie, Sam, and I are the last to arrive, nobody seems to be paying any attention. Ethan and a much younger boy sit on a bench to the left of Gunther. The boy, scrawny despite his round, freckle-spattered cheeks, has a wild shock of red hair crowning his head. He’s scuffing the toes of his shoes through the dirt like he’s having a hard time holding still. Cute kid.

On the next bench sits a girl who appears older than the others. Maybe early twenties? She’s too old to be a foster kid. Pretty, with solemn dark eyes and shiny black hair, she totally pulls off her asymmetrical wedge cut. Sam tries to appear older and adds a swagger to his step, so I slug his arm. He slugs me back and the girl smiles at us.

I think we can fit in with this group, and my shoulders relax as I smile back.

“Welcome to the Circle!” booms Gunther with a smile. “Grab a seat.” He gestures to the bench at his right and we sit across from Freckles and Ethan, who’s absently rolling some kind of bead at the end of a short necklace tied around his neck.

Curious about the group, I watch as Ethan nonchalantly leans a little to his left and jabs Freckles in the ribs. The kid jumps about a foot in the air and tries to glare, but he can’t stop the wide grin from splitting his face. He tries to jab back, but Ethan’s too quick and grabs his wrist and holds the boy’s arm in the air, waving it around until the kid starts to laugh. Though Ethan doesn’t look at all like him, what with his light brown hair and thin face, they act like Sam and Jamie. Brothers, even if not by blood. It’s sweet to see.

Gunther leans back and stretches his long legs. He always seems most content outside with kids scruffing around and making noise. “Jamie, why don’t you do the honors tonight?” He gestures to the empty fire ring, and Jamie sees the test for what it is.

There’s wood and kindling, but nothing by which to light it. Knowing Gunther expects everyone around him to be adept problem solvers, Jamie doesn’t ask for help. Without speaking, he places what he needs inside the ring and smiles a secret as he digs his hands into his pocket and pulls out two black rocks. I laugh. Old habits and all—he’d always had those with him on our mountain, too. With a couple of brisk clicks, he has a spark and is able to coax it to the dry kindling. He sits back as the small flames begin to dance.

Sam bumps shoulders with him. “Good job, Squirt,” he whispers.

Over melty, blackened marshmallows, we all introduce ourselves like a twelve-step program for foster kids. “Hey, I’m so-and-so, and I’ve been here for X amount of time.”

Freckle’s name is Owen Ashby and he’s eight and has been with Gunther for six months. His single mother has recently entered a rehab program. Ethan Stone is sixteen and has been here for two years, which means we may have met before on one of our visits. Callie Dickson is nineteen and has stayed with Gunther for several extended periods over the years. Ever since she hit eighteen, she’s been using his house as her home-base away from college. She’s going to be a teacher, she says.

That’s one of the consistencies of Gunther’s kids. Almost every kid who has spent time in his care has become something pretty cool. Many, like my parents, work in the medical field or as teachers. A lot have gone into the military or police or firefighting forces. Some are counselors or child advocates. That’s something Dad used to stress: Learn! Work! Find something you enjoy, but give back to the world! He probably got that from Gunther. The thought makes me smile. Gunther is a good influence on people with shaky starts.

“So. Kids. It’s time.”

I’m brought back to the present by Ethan’s loud snort. “Hah! Just like that, Old Man? No warning? You’re going to kill the newbies at their first Circle Time!”

“Aw, they’ve known me for years. We’ll be good.” He winks and Ethan shakes his head with a wary smile. The glint in his eye says he’s expecting something of a train wreck.

Gunther stands and spreads his arms wide, like he’s welcoming the evening. He turns his palms out, as if he’s warming his hands over the fire, and the flames leap towards the sky. The air seems to shimmer and I swear to all that is good in this world, I can hear the fracking stars sing. Then these little floating lights start to dance through the breeze like fairies, and whispers trail in their flipping wake. Holy mackerel! Holy smokes!

Sam and Jamie both jump to their feet and spin around a tad frantically, waving their hands like they’re shooing bugs. I, too, am on my feet. Rather than trying to shake off the wonder, I close my eyes and tip my chin up and let the beauty of it all seep into me. I sense movement and open my eyes; the others are standing with us. Something inside me slips. Whatever’s going on, we’re in it together. And that feels right. Ethan nudges me with his elbow.

“That was absolutely nothing,” he smirks. “You’d better hold tight.”

I don’t take him literally until the ground lurches under my feet. I grab onto Sam’s shoulder and watch Gunther as the smoke of the fire seems to weave around him. My eyes can’t seem to focus and Gunther, standing right in front of us, flickers with the firelight. His body puffs apart like the fluff off a dandelion, except his, um,
particles
, stay in a tighter formation, appear to readjust themselves, and then reform. I gasp and distantly hear my brothers’ more verbal responses. Nobody else says anything, but I’ve grabbed somebody’s arm without realizing, and I’ve imbedded my fingers deep enough to bruise, maybe even scar.

Standing in front of us is a huge horse, so dark he’d blend into the shadows if he’d close his eyes.

It’s
our
horse. Thunder.

I blink, the world shifts, and Gunther is back to human form, standing there guffawing so hard he’s doubled over. “Gawd, I love doing that!” he wheezes, holding his sides.

Oh. My.

I can tell everyone is enjoying our shock, but, I mean
really
, how do you even respond to this kind of … of … I don’t know. Forgotten detail? Whacked out craziness?

Jamie, however, has no such trouble. “Shoot, Mr. Gunther! You’re a horse?” Trust him to skip over plausibility and get to the main factual points. Though how I can use the word “factual” when it comes to our uncle-guardian-parent being a farm animal, I don’t even know. It’s probably not legal somewhere.

“Not ‘a horse,’ Boy.” Gunther glowers, but with a twinkle in his eyes. “I am ‘The Horse,’ thank you very much.”

And he sweeps into a low bow and plunks down on his bench, like the world didn’t just become even more bizarre. Sam whistles low through his teeth, and I shake my head while snickers float around us. The ‘sparkle and shimmer’ effect has disappeared, leaving behind a regular dusky evening. The stars are silent. We all sit down again and Gunther becomes more serious.

“Right, then. We’ve got some stories to swap.”

You think?!

“It’s getting late; you can use this as a bedtime story.” He grins at the groans and eye rolls. “Just don’t fall asleep on me.

“Once upon a time there were three amazing children named Olivia, Samuel, and James, who were uprooted from their family and placed in unfamiliar surroundings. What they did not know at the time was the Layer Effect. Life is all about layers. Layers to people, to stories, to time, and to the realities of our world. Some layers to our world are very shallow, overlapping the human reality with just a skimming touch. That’s how we all have our fairytales, legends, and folklore. On some level, they are all true. And each layer has a ripple effect. What happens on one layer can leech through to the next and sway the balance, changing the course of things that are.

“What happened that snowy evening was a wrinkle in the Layer Effect. Sadly, nothing could be done for the parents, but the children had just enough time to be pulled through the protective Barriers by their so-called magical horse, Thunder. Thunder, also unknown to the children, is what’s known as a Shifter. Shifters are beings that can shift between the layers of the world, living in-between and having some capacity at manipulating their surroundings within the confines of their current level, so to speak. Shifters help guide and are an essence of light and hope.

“There are other forms, negative and dark, which can slip between as well. These are the Sliders. They are more like leeches or parasites; they cannot take a true form in the outer human level. Instead, they must attach to a host who will then take on their negative energies and build on all the qualities humans call hate, rage, and cruelty.

“Within the Shadow Layer, from which your fairytales are pulled, they show themselves as any number of beasts. Wolves are common, as are serpents, and vaguely human forms like trolls and such. On deeper levels still, they become shadows of negative force, which survive by sucking in the energies of other layers. Human malice feeds the Sliders, and the stronger Sliders become, the more malice humans exhibit. It is a cycle the Shifters try to keep in check. With balance, humanity is safe.

“If the three children, on that night, had been looking out their window, they might have seen the reckless car coming from behind. Humans, with the exception of infants who are closely tied to the most miraculous of layers, can only process their senses humanly. They can wish and hope and have faith, but they cannot ‘see.’ It’s essentially what makes them human.

“Time was of an essence to save these children’s lives. The quickest, safest way was to bring them to the Training Grounds we use for Benders, where the Barriers are the strongest. A Bender is a human who has a flexible mind and can be taught to breech the Barriers and slip between the layers. No one knows how long the training will take, for humans are different in their needs. The Grounds, however, adapt to these circumstances and invariably the trainees learn the skills they require. When the goals of their specific training have been reached, the mist separates and the trainees simply walk back down the mountain to the cabin.

“Before this particular event, trainees have always known who they are and have been prepared for the learning. They would have walked up the mountain with Thunder, with the understanding that making it through the mist was the first step. The Barriers would repel, if not fully evaporate, anyone with an impure heart or soul.

“It was an unusual situation with these three. There was no way to prepare them nor to test their suitability; Thunder based his decision on his knowledge of the children’s characters and hoped for the best. Bending into a layer is not easy, as it is often experienced as a shutting down of the body. This is because the physical body must deconstruct itself in order to force its molecules through the Barriers. Then it needs to be capable of restructuring on the other side.

“The three survived the transition, the healing from the crash, and the learning on the mountain. At that point, the next unforeseen occurrence took place. A Slider penetrated the Training Grounds. And—”

“What?!” Ethan’s voice is hard as it cracks through the night, and it makes me jump. I had forgotten the others were here. “There’s a Slider on them already? They were in training, for Pete’s sake! Since when is that even possible?”

In the firelight, I can see his taut muscles and clenched jaw. He seems to be a contained and focused kind of guy, like he’s taking in everything around him. I’ve noticed when he stands he tends to balance on the balls of his feet, ready to spring into action if needed.

My brothers and I are still processing the meaning of the story, but Callie voices her agreement to Ethan’s sharp words.

Gunther nods solemnly. “That is the concern. You see, to continue the story, Thunder found the three children in the Grey and brought them back.”

I have no idea what that means, but even six-monther Owen looks horrified. “Um, the gray stuff is bad?” I hazard a guess.

“The Grey,” says Callie, “is the very last safety feature of the Barriers before you enter the deepest layers. Not typical for trainees to get there, even if they know about it.” Her questioning eyes slide to Gunther’s face. “Is this why you summoned me?” Without waiting for an answer, she turns back to us. “You see, once you’re eighteen, you can no longer cross through the layers. It is our humanity that allows it in the first place—that we can be open to the possibility before we experience the reality.