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Colorado mountains, early spring
Alexa Fitzwalter slogged through the knee-deep snow, every step difficult. She’d thought she had survived the worst of her grief over the death of her best friend, a friend who was more like a sister, but here she was, doing something completely crazy. Following a dream, a song that compelled her to trek through the mountains at night. Dangerous and mad. She couldn’t explain her actions rationally, so it must be another aspect of mourning.
Yet she trudged on, knowing that although she couldn’t escape the hurt inside her, she could leave Denver and all her problems behind for the moment.
Such sad thoughts on such a cold, perfect night. The soft feathery snowflakes were as heartbreaking as the sharp, pristine air she drew into her lungs. A night that spoke of mystery and life and challenge, if you dared to take it, shape it, live it.
Just that easily the image of her friend Sophie was back in Alexa’s thoughts—Sophie who had been the sister and only family Alexa had ever had. Sophie laughing and dancing through the snow-crystal laden air, whisking sparkles of ice around her in a shimmering aura.
Sophie had been bold and vibrant; Alexa deep and brooding. But they’d both been risk-takers. Who else would be crazy enough to start up a law firm right out of school, trusting themselves and each other to make it work; knowing that they were both alone in the world with no family and no family money to cushion the start of a business? They had only themselves and their friendship to depend upon. But it had been enough.
Then Sophie died in a car accident.
Alexa’s face chilled as tears froze on her skin. No use wiping them away since others would follow.
She stopped and adjusted her fanny pack, panting through her mouth, sending puffs of white vapor into the air. The cold made the inside of her nose crackle. She squinted up the hill—no sign of a track, but she’d hiked this area often enough to know where she was going. Odd that she was drawn to this point, never a favorite.
It was just one more crazy thing, part and parcel of the dreams and the auditory hallucinations. Alexa had been hearing things that weren’t there, that no one else heard. Not instructions from God—she was no Joan of Arc—but a stream of rising and falling vocal music. Ripples of a chime that brought rainbow colors to her mind. And the gong. The gong haunted her.
It had sounded first, then the chime, then the chants. They had alternated and mixed. First the gong had been muffled as if echoing from a great distance. Then the sound had sharpened, become insistent, reverberating in her dreams until she woke. Awake, the memory of it would ring through her, shattering her thoughts all day.
Finally the sound in her mind had forced her into her car and led her here.
Obviously she wasn’t coping as well as she’d thought with Sophie’s death.
Sophie would have expected Alexa to handle the situation better, to be more flexible. Vital, ebullient Sophie would want her to live, not simply exist in a world temporarily bleak. She would expect Alexa to adapt again as she had so often when her life ruptured. Instead, Alexa followed a song.
The sky was so black as to be eternal, with sparks of light pinpointing lost dreams. The gauzy veil of the Milky Way draped across the bowl of night was so beautiful as to make her soul ache with longing—to be a star, to be the sky, to be a night goddess.
By the time Alexa reached the summit the snowflakes had stopped. Brilliant white peaks encircled her, as if all the starshine in the universe coated them. She lifted her gaze to the stars again and pinpricks of light dazzled her eyes through the tears.
When she blinked them away, she saw the silver net descending, coalescing into a solid silver arch before her. She couldn’t move a muscle. Her in-caught breath was so quick and big that she doubled over, coughing.
The gong sounded, the chimes tinkled a scale. The arch settled.
Her heart thudded fast and she heard her own gasps. She wanted to run, but before she could lift her feet, the beauty of the arch and the stream of music coming from it soothed the ragged edges of her mourning. The sheer relief at having her hurt gone made Alexa stay.
Reality or illusion? If she waited would it fade like all dreams?
Hunched, Alexa saw the shiver of rippling silver in the arch. Silver flowing like mercury, then parted to send a stream of voices lifted in music to her, along with a sparkling rainbow.
Now there were words, heard more in her head and her heart than with her ears, affecting her, feeling real, especially since the chants weren’t songs of exaltation but pleas. “Help us. Come to us. We need you here as no one there ever will.”
Alexa straightened and her throat tightened at the truth. No one needed her here.
The music enveloped, the gong enchanted, the words invited. She could only stand and stare, bemused. It went on and on until she couldn’t feel her feet, and her fingers hooked around the straps of her pack, numbed.
“Come to us.” Warmth and light and sound tugged at her.
She brushed a hand down the silver arch. It was warm to her touch. Planting a hand against it, she pushed. It was solid.
“Come to us.”
The delicate scent of spring blossoms and renewal drew her to the rainbow. Most appealing of all was the small bud of hope that unfurled within her, the hope that she could help. She could find a place of her own where she was valued, where she fit.
At her back was the cold, friendless night.
Alexa stepped through the arch. Rainbow crystals bathed her and sunk into her skin to shimmer like glitter all along her nerves. Her loose hat fell off. Her fine hair lifted straight out from her head. She’d look like a brown dandelion. She threw back her head and laughed at the joyful effervescence. Hope and excitement flowed through her. She flung out her arms and twirled into a dance.
The monster attacked.
Big, twice as big as she. Black hairy bristles all over its body. Long fangs. Claws sliced, shredding her down coat, releasing a flurry of feathers into whistling winds.
Fear jolted her. She screamed but heard no sound. A paw-hand sporting foot-long gleaming claws slashed at her head. She ducked, but its hair brushed her face raw.
Move! How? She had no weight.
She rammed her own arms up against the beast. They stung with shock, but the blow propelled her and the monster apart.
Another clawed swipe. Her pack loosened and vanished. Her gloves whipped off in the wind. Better her stuff than her.
Alexa saw an opening. Escape!
It was a bright hole with rainbow traces. Panting in terror, she kicked with all her might, connected with the monster, ducked, rolled, spun, struggled to the hole and plunged into it feet-first. The last thing she saw was a huge red mouth and teeth dripping yellow spit. She didn’t know if the beast growled in fury or tried to bite her head off. Or both.
The hole sucked her through.
And into a maelstrom of sound. A full orchestra rose in triumphant crescendo.
A flash swept across her vision—a pentacle? She landed hard in the center, on a pavement of multicolored stones. The groan rattling from her teeth echoed.
Solid. Real. The music faded to a background murmur.
She looked up. People in rich robes stared at her. She was among humans. She closed her eyes in gratitude.
When she opened them she was circled by swords.
“This is our savior? The one we risked our lives for? It’s puny. And ugly,” Reynardus said.
Thealia stared in shock at the small being in the pentagram’s center. It was partially feathered, something she’d never seen before. Never anticipated. A female avian.
The chanting, gong and Summoning had gone well up to a point. Thealia had been sure they’d lured their Exotique fighter, caught her—the spirit and Power of her had sung through the connection. They’d lost her in the doorway, but only for a few seconds.
Looking at the entity, so different from the woman she’d anticipated, Thealia felt her blood drain from her face until her lips felt cold and stiff. There must be some way to save the situation.
Reynardus sneered down his nose at her. “This is the ‘fighting woman of the greatest magical Power’ you promised, Swordmarshall Thealia. Those were your words, were they not?”
If he said so, they were. His Power included a perfect memory.
He didn’t wait for an answer. “Just as I thought. Wasted effort. The Power we used to bring this thing here will keep us all drained for days. This is a disaster.” He dropped his sword and turned.
“Stop!” ordered the Medica. She was a healer, not a Marshall, but they listened. “You’ve already broken the link between us, but don’t break the circle. And do you, Knight Lord Swordmarshall Reynardus, think small is weak? What of this?” She opened her hand and blew away a protective sphere. The glowing starlike atomball floated free. She flicked it to Reynardus.
Reflexively his ivory baton appeared in his hand and tipped the ball away, sent it spinning across the circle.
Thealia’s wasn’t the only gasp. A loose atomball, and the whole circle of Marshalls depleted from the Summoning! She froze with horror as it sped to her husband, Partis. He didn’t have the Power to hold it even at full strength. His round face showed only minor strain as he caught the ball on the tip of his staff.
“I believe this is the first Test for the Exotique,” Partis said, “to measure her Power.” He tossed the ball directly to the small female rising to her feet.
Alexa wanted to believe she dreamed, but the physical sensations were all too real for her to ignore. She wondered—
Shit! The little star the strangers played keep-away with came straight at her! She ducked, held out her right hand, and the ball smacked into her palm with stinging force. It burned and sent rivulets of heat pouring through her veins, up her arm. And here she’d followed a song to help. Look where it got her. Somewhere else.
She gritted her teeth and bore the pain from the searing star.
Pretty nice tricks these people had. She had no intention of being “monkey in the middle”—and she knew by the tone of his words that the big guy with broad shoulders considered her something like a monkey. He swaggered with arrogance even standing still.
Holding the light made her dizzy, but when it finally cooled she loosened her fingers and dropped it. A golden walnut clattered to the floor and rolled away with a clatter.
The circle of people stared at her, some with their mouths open. She tried to suppress her shuddering, wishing it was from the lingering cold of the Colorado night, but she knew it was from adrenaline pumping through her. She fought to gather her wits, sure the fantastic events would continue to move at the speed of light—or magic. She must be ready and think on her feet, as she had so often done during her childhood in foster homes.
Alexa had concluded that they’d brought her here—the big silver gong shining within the circle was sufficient evidence of that. With the pentacle she was in, their circle, and another on the floor that they stood within, magic seemed to be the method they’d used.
Inhaling deeply, Alexa studied them. They were all taller than she. She lifted a shoulder. Nothing new. Everyone was taller than she.
They looked suntanned—a light golden brown—and all had black hair, though the tints and highlights weren’t the same, nor was the thickness. Even the man with the most lines on his face had a full head of hair. No male-pattern baldness here. In fact, they all had streaks in their hair—silver or gold, over their left or right temple, or both. That was the oddest thing about them and she sensed it was significant.
Every one of them emitted a low note, something that she seemed to hear with her mind, vibrating her eardrum from the inside. Together their notes wove into a strong melody. She shook her head, but the song remained, as did the background music.
They stared at her with dark eyes. They were almost Asian, but the structure of their features was subtly different—a very beautiful people.
Alexa gazed back at them, conscious as never before of her pale skin, light brown hair and green eyes. She shifted awkwardly—knowing one side of her face was red and raw made her feel even more scruffy.
The elegance of their velvet robes adorned with fancy gold or silver braidwork looked too impractical for any activity other than magic. Each wore heraldry embroidered above their hearts. Or on their left side, Alexa amended. She didn’t know where their hearts were. She recognized a coat of arms when she saw one, even if she didn’t know what it meant. She figured these beings must be of high status.
They seemed to be grouped in pairs, two wearing emerald green, two sapphire blue, and so on around the circle—usually a man-woman pairing.
Most held their swords pointed at her chest, as if she were a threat. The big man wearing rust red turned to the angular woman—Alexa had decided they were the most important two.
He made another snide comment. Probably about her.
She looked down at herself and winced. She appeared to be molting. One side of her coat spilled feathers, some more drifted across the rest of her clothing, and with every breath a few separated to float around her. Her long jacket was dead.
She shed her coat and dropped her fanny pack. A mutter ran around the circle. Alexa raised her eyebrows at the big guy who glared at her, staring at her right hand.
Alexa folded her coat. Feathers puffed out. She flexed her fingers. Her right hand was pinkened, but didn’t hurt as much as her face. Her down vest ripped when she moved. It, too, had tears. She realized the beast’s swipe with the tips of its claws had come close to killing her. More adrenaline kicked in. She’d been very, very lucky. Particularly since she sensed the monster had been waiting for her.
With unsteady hands Alexa took off her vest and laid it on her coat, then stood in sweater and jeans.
The people spoke amongst themselves. The small round man ran a stick along glowing gemstone crystals arranged in a rainbow—the chime—and the sound shivered through Alexa. She jerked, sensing she was trapped here.
A pattern of tinkling chimes followed, each one affecting Alexa. At one, her balance tipped and she strained to keep upright, another sent her heart pounding loud enough for her to hear its rush in her ears. On and on the glasses rang as if testing every one of her reflexes, plucking at her organs.
It ended just before Alexa fell to her knees. Her body was coated with a cold sweat. She gritted her teeth and stiffened her spine. Posturing and attitude was all she had, and everything that counted in this game of strategy, as in all power games. Whatever safety, status and position she had in this world—in this time?—depended on this first confrontation.
The circle opened and a woman a few inches taller than Alexa left it, crossing to the edge of the circular room, to the gray stone wall. The woman was dressed differently than the others. No chain mail gleamed beneath her robe. This lady wore no armor. She wore a robe of dark red, with a coat of arms over her left breast, but in the center of her chest was a big white cross. Not hard to deduce that she was a doctor.
Alexa was profoundly glad that the woman was moving away from her. She shook out her arms and legs, steadied her breathing. No one else in the circle moved. They all watched the doctor and Alexa. And waited.
The healer unfolded a fur on a wide padded stone bench near a fluted pillar and murmured something soft and lilting. She picked up a bundle and proceeded straight across the room. To an altar.
Alexa looked wildly around. Everyone had sharp weapons. A fist of dread squeezed her stomach. Surely they weren’t going to sacrifice a living thing. She couldn’t stand that. She’d have to stop it—somehow.
She hoped it wasn’t a dog. She would totally freak if it was a dog.
Breath strangled in her throat. What if they were going to sacrifice her?
The doctor stepped into the light cast by the chandeliers’ wheels and Alexa saw it was worse than a dog.
It was a baby.
Face impassive, eyes hooded, the healer showed the naked infant to Alexa. It was a little girl of about one year old. Short black-and-silver hair was ruffled into tufts. The little one grinned at Alexa.
She moved to block the way to the altar.
The doctor glided across the room in front of Alexa to a square of blue polished marble.
Alexa didn’t see the pool until the baby splashed into it.
2
Alexa had thought the dark pool was a slab of polished blue marble. Horror ripped through her as she ran to save the child.
There were six steps down. She slipped on the first and toppled into the pool, dog-paddling to keep her head up.
It wasn’t water, but thick, like syrup. The liquid sliced fire into a raw blister on her foot, burned the tender quick of a fingernail she’d broken that morning. The pain in the cuts was bad, but worse on her scraped face, and now she felt scratches on her torso from the beast. The fluid even affected her bruises. Every ache seemed to be an open wound eaten by acid. It crawled from the edge of a bruise to burn hotter as it reached the center of the hurt. Alexa’s breath came in anguished gasps. Her mind reeled.
She saw the little girl near the bottom of the far side of the pool. Alexa plunged into the liquid to reach the child, in too much pain to even prepare herself with a deep breath.
The fluid closed over her head. Tensing, she opened her eyes. And saw perfectly. She dove for the baby and grabbed her, pulled her from the pool. Staggered out.
A scream rose from her throat at the sight of the limp little body. She didn’t know what to do. She looked at the doctor. Though tears ran down the woman’s face, she stood with folded hands.
Alexa shifted from foot to foot in endless agony for a few seconds before wiping the baby’s eyes, then pushed her finger into the girl’s mouth, checking for obstructions, feeling if the child’s tongue blocked the air passage.
She turned the baby over, grabbed hard when the infant slipped. Alexa patted her back. Thumped a little harder. Nothing.
Alexa cradled the baby and whirled to the people who stood on the other side of the room. She thought she cried, What kind of fiends are you to do this! But what came from her mouth was, “Shit. SHIT!”
