Of Shadows and Death, page 1
Of Shadows and Death
Sharlene Healy
Copyright © 2023 by Sharlene Healy
Hailstorm Publishing
All rights reserved.
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This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any real persons or places is entirely coincidental. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in, or encourage, the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author's rights is appreciated.
Cover@Blue Raven Covers
Editing@Magnolia Author Services
Images@Adobe Stock
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Chapter Fifty-Six
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Chapter Sixty
Chapter Sixty-One
Chapter Sixty-Two
Chapter Sixty-Three
Chapter Sixty-Four
Chapter Sixty-Five
Chapter Sixty-Six
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Chapter Seventy
Chapter Seventy-One
Chapter Seventy-Two
Chapter Seventy-Three
Chapter Seventy-Four
Chapter Seventy-Five
Chapter Seventy-Six
Chapter Seventy-Seven
Chapter Seventy-Eight
Chapter Seventy-Nine
Chapter Eighty
Chapter Eighty-One
Chapter Eighty-Two
Chapter Eighty-Three
Epilogue
Epilogue 2
About Author
Also By
Chapter One
495 NE, Month 9, Day 3/30
The window rattles, and I jump, my heart racing as an eerie feeling washes over me. “Impossible,” I mutter, tearing my gaze from the delicate mending project in my lap. The room feels colder, as if touched by an otherworldly presence.
It rattles again, and hate-filled red eyes pop into view, a fanged smile grinning at me wickedly from the other side. Dread clutches my heart, and my breath catches in my throat.
Hastily, I haphazardly toss my mother’s moss-green robe to the side in a rush to cover the window. In three quick strides, I am there and I throw the dark gray curtains shut. My breaths are short and full of fear, hoping the magic holds. The sharp red eyes linger in my mind, and I try to banish the image as the candlelight flickers across my face.
The glass shakes once more, and peals of wicked laughter fill the air. “We’re waiting for you outside,” says a voice, full of malice. “Come down and play.”
An icy chill runs down my back, and with a shudder, I ignore their taunting. To join them would mean death. The glass shakes one last time, then suddenly stops. Slowly, I draw the curtain aside, just enough to see the creature scale down the entire seven story stone wall. He reaches the bottom and scurries off into the cluster of trees.
Vampire.
They’ve never dared come this high. They’ve always feared Mother’s magic. Are they testing the boundaries since she is gone?
I shiver as several pairs of red eyes blink from the trees up into my window. Vampires are an unavoidable hazard of the forest. They’re always hiding in the trees, the dark canopies keeping sunlight away. Even now, the bright orange leaves hide the creatures.
My tower is safe, usually, because of Mother’s protection spell. At the very least, it’s intact. Whether made that way or held together by Mother’s magic, I do not know. It sits in the middle of a forest, and I know there’s a lake nearby. I’ve never seen it, though. I’ve only left my tower once, briefly, when I was thirteen. I didn’t even venture into the forest then, or any time after.
It’s not too bad, my tower. It’s seven levels high, but I mostly stay on the fourth and fifth. The bottom ones are crumbling on the inside and the stairs have been unsafe to use for as long as I can remember. I don’t understand why the vampires don’t attempt to infiltrate the tower from there, since no one would stop them. Not that I could from here. The top two levels are Mother’s, and she warned me to stay out.
“Rapunzel,” she said. Her eyes glinted, narrowing in on me. I hated when she called me that. I prefer Penny. “Magic is dangerous and unstable. You must never, ever go upstairs. Do you understand?”
I was only three when she told me, but even then, I felt the thrum of power leaking out from under the door, a tug I imagined felt like a friend asking to play. A sound like the wind on a sunny day. The underlying sense of danger, as if an explosion would happen with just a look. It’s been easy to avoid those floors since.
The rest of the castle is crumbling, too. When I stare through the window, peering out of the corner, I can see the evidence. Stones strewn across an overgrown grass field and shattered glass reflecting the scant light shining down.
On the first floor of the tower, the door opens to dilapidated stairs. I haven’t seen it myself, not being able to make it past the first half of the second level. It’s simply too cramped and dark.
With a sigh, I leave the window and carefully step over the coils of my hair on the ground and sit back down with my mending. The fire cackles, warmth seeping into my skin, calming me down as the light plays against the walls.
In no time, my mind focuses on the project at hand. I’m fixing a long gash in Mother’s robe, a green flowing garment that she wears on errands for the king. The simple stitches eat away the seconds, and before I know it, I hear a call from the ground.
“Rapunzel, I’m home. Let down your hair.”
I grimace, knowing no one can see the distaste on my face, thankful for this small freedom. Providing my hair as a rope is one of my least favorite tasks. Only my hair can be used, according to Mother. Something about the magic wrapped around the tower.
I tuck my mending into the basket at my feet and make my way to the window. Not checking for vampires, because Mother would surely destroy them, I throw my brown coiled hair, the same color as my eyes, out the window. The long lengths thump against the side of the tower, pooling onto the ground. I hold on tight until Mother climbs up the entire tower.
Her green robe is covered in soot and dust, as well as her red hair. Her usually pale skin is covered in dirt, too. She jumps down from the windowsill and wipes her brow while I take deep breaths. She hauls in a giant basket, which she sets on the floor. Her bright green eyes squint as she adjusts to the light. I assume I look like my father, with my dark brown hair and brown eyes.
Before Mother can say anything, words tumble out of my mouth. “A vampire shook the window.”
Instantly her eyes flash with rage, eyebrows drawing together, and the smell of burned leaves, acrid and bitter, fills the room. “What?”
I cast my eyes downward and nod. She growls, and I glance up through my lashes. “How dare they? I will deal with them.” She stomps upstairs, slamming the door shut to her workroom.
My shoulders drop in relief. That would take care of the vampire threat. I turn to the window and pull my hair up, slowly drawing in the dark brown coils. I glance into the trees and my stomach flutters with nerves.
A vampire stands at the edge of the trees, his arms crossed. His expression is full of rage as he surveys the castle. Instead of the two red eyes I expect, though, his right eye is completely white. His eyes catch mine, and even from here, I see surprise that mirrors my own. I open my mouth to scream, but he disappears before the smallest note of sound leaves me.
Chapter Two
The next day, I wake early to cook food for Mother. I open the windows, letting the sunlight filter through. We have a candle chandelier on the ceiling, but I can’t light it without magic.
I debate whether or not to make enough stew for her dinner as well. I never know how long she’ll stay, and this time is no different.
I finish making fruit pancakes, her favorite, when she walks down the stairs. Her fire-red hair is pulled back into a severe bun, not a stray wisp in sight, although I notice more gray than the last time. She’s wearing a simple green dress that falls to her feet and covers her wrists.
She sits down at our round wooden table and stares out the window. “I reinforced the magical barrier. They shouldn’t even be able to touch the windows.”
I sigh in relief and set a plate in front of her. “Thank the crown.”
“Thank me. I’m the one who did it.”
“Of course, of course, Mother. Thank you.”
She digs into her food while I make another for me. I sit down at the table across from her, adjusting myself on the wooden seats. I wanted to paint them, but Mother prefers them plain.
When I finish chewing, I put down my fork and glance at her. “How was this trip?”
She exhales audibly. “So difficult. I honestly don’t know what the king would do without me at this point. I had to put out a fire covering five buildings.”
My mouth drops open. “Buildings right next to each other?”
She flashes me an expression of disbelief. “Obviously, right next to each other. Anyway, I put them all out at once.”
“So you’re home for longer now?”
She makes a sound in her throat, a cross between a grunt and a cough. “No. The king only wants more work from me.” She rolls her eyes. “I work so hard for him, and not even a thank you. How ungrateful.”
I nod sympathetically to the tune I’ve heard so often before. “What will you do now?”
She methodically scrapes her fork tines against the metal plate, the sound piercing my ears. I wince once before tamping my reaction. The sound continues until Mother abruptly stops, flinging the utensil onto the plate. It crashes with a clatter and bounces to the ground. She makes no move to pick it up, so I reach down and grab it, placing it gently on the table.
“He wants me to use my earth magic to seal a crack in the land.” She folds her arms and stares out the window. “Down south, in Ixtla.”
I gasp. “That’s at least a week’s journey.”
Mother grumbles. “Thanks to the idiot who broke the portal there. I swear, sometimes I wonder if I’m the only one who knows what they’re doing.”
My heart jumps into my throat as I ask the question burning on my tongue. “Can I come?”
Mother raises both eyebrows, and my heart continues to race. I take slow, deep breaths, making sure not to show my excitement. Otherwise it’ll be a sure no. “You want to go to the desert with me? The desert with monsters no one can identify? Because you get too close and they destroy you?”
I look down at my hands, and in an instant realize it’s a mistake. I should be bold, strong. Face Mother. But I can’t bring myself to. “I’m twenty now, Mother. I’d like to see more than the trees out my window.”
I glance up through my lashes. Mother’s eyes light with rage and the rest of the words die on my lips. Fire surrounds her hands while her bun unravels, hair floating into the air, as if moving in an unseen breeze. “I’ve told you before, again and again. You will not leave this tower.”
I watch her hair move, and the fight leaves me. My shoulders slump. “But why?” I whisper.
“You know why. It’s dangerous. You would be eaten alive.”
“But if you—"
"—Enough. End of discussion.”
Abruptly, Mother stands up, shoving the chair back from the table so hard it topples over. Her hair gathers itself into the severe bun. She walks steadily up the stairs to her tower floors, head held high, leaving me to clean up.
I take a deep breath and rub the back of my neck. It aches sometimes from the weight of my hair, especially the day after Mother climbs the coils.
I really hoped that today would have been different, notably since my birthday was last month. It’s been four weeks since then, and still, I am in the tower. Mother prefers not to have calendars, claiming they rush her. One of the books she had brought me, however, had a special calendar showing which dates aligned with which stars in the sky. It was intricate and intense, but I studied for months until I could pinpoint the date of each day based on the stars.
My birthday is the last day of Month 8. The twelve months used to have names, according to another book I read, but no one remembers what they are. All written records have either been destroyed or lost, human memories unreliable over centuries.
My shoulders slump in defeat as I stand and clean the breakfast mess. I twirl around the kitchen with practiced movements, putting away dirty dishes. Even though the castle is crumbling, our kitchen is spectacular. Mother spelled an oven to work using a special magical fire which could be increased or decreased with a small dial. She also constructed a special cold box as tall as me, from which I take out a variety of vegetables. It keeps food chilled for days at a time. Since ice magic isn’t her specialty, Mother has to redo the spell every three months. It’s handy since I cannot leave the tower to get food from the garden.
Ultimately, I decide to make stew for the both of us. It’ll keep long enough for me to eat tomorrow, in case Mother leaves today. Judging by the movements and thumping upstairs, she’s packing right this minute. I hope, someday, she’ll say yes to me leaving with her.
I’m right in the middle of chopping carrots when Mother stomps down the stairs, carrying a leather satchel with a larger bag slung across her shoulder. The muscles in my shoulders tighten as the noise echoes in the room. I really should have known better than to push the issue. With all she has going on, her stress levels must be astronomical. The king makes her work long, thankless hours. I should do my best to be grateful that I have a warm tower to live in rather than begging to leave it.
“You’re leaving already?”
She raises an eyebrow. “Obviously. The king is demanding. It’s as if I’m the only one who works for him.”
“Are you going to be safe?” I ask.
She nods. “You always ask that. I know how to defend myself.” She purses her lips and gives me a pitying look. “Unlike you, magic is woven into the depths of my bones.”
Shame turns my cheeks red and I stare down at the stone floors, studying the tiles I know so well. “Yes, Mother.”
She moves closer to me and puts a hand under my chin, raising my face. “Just be grateful I’m here to protect you. If not, those vampires would make quick work of you.” She pauses. “If you’re lucky.”
Mother puts down two bags near the window and looks at me. “I’ll be gone for a while. I’ll spell the garden and anything that’s finished will float up to you.” She smooths her hair back. “I’d hold off baking for now, if I were you. It’s starting to show.”
I grimace. It’s true. I baked more than usual these past few weeks, but I didn’t think it was making a difference in my figure. None of my clothes were any tighter. “Yes, Mother.”
She tosses her bags out the window, watching as they float to the ground, a special spell she invented last year. It works for anything under a certain weight. She motions me over and I head to the window, cracking my neck back and forth.
“Let down your hair, Rapunzel.”
I gather up the ropes of hair and throw them out the window. Mother slides onto the windowsill, but just before she grabs onto the coils, a pigeon flies into our tower, landing on the table. A cylinder is attached to its leg. A royal messenger.
Chapter Three
Mother huffs irritably and climbs down from the sill, walking over to the bird. It waits patiently while she unravels the message attached to its leg. When she finishes reading, she pulls out her quill and writes a reply, sliding it back into the cylinder. She carries the bird to the window and releases it. I watch it fly off.
“Change of plans. I’m headed to the capital.” She curls her upper lip in disgust. “I’ll be back in a few days.”
She stomps up to her floor, taking her third bag with her. In a few minutes, she returns, carrying a much smaller satchel.
“Since you are going to the capital instead,” I say hesitantly. “Do you think it would be okay if I came with you?”
