Chapter One – Evaine

“What the hell am I doing here?” Eva peered around the edge of a crumbled stone wall, looking down into the gully below her, trying to pierce the darkness with her eyes. It was no use: she couldn’t see further than three feet in front of her, the rest was just shapes draped in shadows. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, summoning the courage that she had left two miles away, next to her parked car.

Which was exactly where she should be. This had to be a joke, right?

Only she was certain it wasn’t. Images like memories floated around in her head; skills she knew, but had never learned, circled around in her brain. A voice was whispering in her head, telling her this was what she was born to do.

“No,” she told the voice adamantly. “I’m a bank clerk from Bournemouth. Not Indiana Jones.”

Yet here she was in the middle of nowhere, with the fate of her mother in her hands. “No, with a stupid sword in my hands.” She tightened her grip on the sword. Wasn’t the weight of a sword supposed to give you confidence? Eva figured she was more likely going to puke. There was no way she was going to use it to kill anyone.

But what if she had to? Would she have the stomach for it? The voice in her head whispered, yes. Maybe this was all a prank, and someone was about to jump out at her and shout, “Caught on camera.” If she stepped out, this would all end. Yeah, she would be embarrassed, but at least it would be over.

“Do it now. Get it over with.” Eva willed herself to leave her hiding place, but her legs did not respond. “Come on.” She took deep breaths, puffing out her cheeks, and letting it out. Huff. Puff. Huff. Puff.

It didn’t work. “The longer you stay here, the more chance someone will find us,” she reasoned.

What someone? It was dark, and she was in a remote part of the forest, with no houses for miles.

She slid her head around the wall again; the shadows hadn’t moved. Flexing her fingers around the rough leather that bound the hilt of the sword, she tried to imagine swinging it. It didn’t work, she had no use for it, and wished they had given her a flashlight instead.

Something practical. But the men who had kidnapped Eva and threatened her mother didn’t appear to be practical men.

Which left Eva no choice. If she wanted to get her mom back, she had to get what they wanted. And she had to get it now. Her legs still wouldn’t move. She’d got this far, she reasoned to them. Nothing had tried to stop her. The place seemed deserted.

Closing her eyes, she let her other senses roam. They stretched out, like a living beast, sliding over grass and rocks, listening to the rustle of the leaves as the breeze disturbed them. The recent rain had run off the nearby hills down into the gully, causing rivulets of water to gather, joining together to trickle down into a stream at the bottom of the gully.

Her brain processed all of this, along with the scents she breathed in. Undergrowth—damp, decaying, leaves rotting down to feed the trees. Soon fungi would erupt, littering the gully with its spores. Wait. There was something else. Something she couldn’t place. Eva took one more breath, letting it play over her taste buds, wondering how she knew this was the best way to distil the air.

Discovery Channel, her brain filled in. What else?

Eggs, rotten eggs. Out of place—just like Eva.

The breeze shifted, the smell evaporated, and Eva knew she had to move. Knew it deep in her core, like a message ingrained in her soul. The first step was the hardest, the second exposed her completely to anything below her, and the third took her deeper into the gully, leading her past the point of no return.

They’d told her where to look, they told her she would know how to find the thing they wanted. They told her they would release her mother if she found what they wanted. So she would find it, and she would rescue her mom—a woman who was a stranger to Eva, the woman who had dumped her on the steps of a hospital when she was only a couple of months old.

She slid down the gully, putting her hand out to stop her fall, righted herself, and continued. A branch caught at her coat, and ripped it, but she carried on, because, as unnatural as the feel of the sword in her hand was, the sense that this was what she should be doing was there, stamped on her brain, burning like a hot brand.

This was what you were born to do, the voice whispered in her head, and the more she tried to deny it, the louder it became. So she let it go. There was no room in her head for voices, especially not crazy ones, brought on by the stress of this ridiculous situation.

She needed to concentrate; she needed to find the Dragon’s Tear. Oh, yeah, dragons. As if the sword wasn’t weird enough.

Eva slipped again, her feet sliding over the wet grass like a surfer riding a wave. She put her hands out to help balance herself, and they slammed into a stone wall that had appeared out of the shadows. “That was lucky,” Eva said, cursing; she’d grazed the knuckles of the hand that held the sword. But at least she had found what she was looking for. A wall. Something clicked in her head: she had to hurry. Instinct took over.

Smooth stone. Manmade. Out of place. Her brain processed this new information in staccato bursts. This was it, this was where they told her to come, the rest was up to her, there was no treasure map, except the one they said was in her brain. He’d touched her head, the man with a cross tattooed onto his cheek. Immediately, Eva’s head seemed bigger inside, as if he had opened a door into a part of her brain she never knew was there.

That was when the voices had started. The same voices that were guiding her now, shifting around in her head and unlocking more doors, letting out new senses. New instincts.

It started as a prickle along her spine and spread out, taking over her body. Her fingers searched the stone wall for a gap, an entrance. When she found it, she was compelled to go inside, despite her conscious mind screaming at her not to. She’d seen enough horror movies to know this would never end well.

Damn, was this the whole point? Send her out here with a sword and let the stupid, untrained woman try to defend herself against men who wanted to hunt her? Like some kind of perverse sport. Bile rose in her throat, and she pushed it back down. They wanted a fight, so this stupid woman would give them one.

With the sword held firmly in her hands, raised, ready for whatever, or whoever, might attack her, she walked into the abyss. The darkness was complete, the air cloying, dampening her senses—except one. A sixth sense, that’s what it was called, wasn’t it? The sense that fed you information that wasn’t real, wasn’t tangible.

Eva allowed this new instinct to dominate her other senses. One slow step forward, after another, she tapped into it, relying on it to guide her through the darkness. Her feet stepped over unseen objects, and she ducked her head under a low doorway, all hidden from her eyes. The deeper she went into the dark void, the more she trusted this sense.

Eva tried to block out her fears, the rational thoughts that entered her head, terrifying her. How deep under the ground was she? Too far to run back to the entrance if the roof caved in. What lurked here in the dark? There were no animals big enough to give her more than a nasty bite in England. But what about snakes? An adder holed up here for the winter?

And then there were the other things. Otherworldly things. Demons and vampires, stuff of nightmares.

Not real, her conscious mind told her. But the other sense disagreed. That was why she had been given the sword. For other things.

When she came back to the present, she realized she had stopped moving. She had been standing in the same spot long enough for the chill temperature around her to make her shiver. Fear gripped her. What if her sixth sense abandoned her, and she never made it back out? There was no way she would follow the right path and escape the darkness without it.

“Calm down,” she told herself, her voice muted by the stagnant air. Deep breathing, that was what you used to contain panic; she’d learned that the first time she got on an airplane, and nearly had a panic attack. Funny, no matter how weird this was, it was more natural than getting inside a tin can that was meant to fly.

In and out, she concentrated on her breathing, until she had stilled her mind and her body. And then she heard it, like a whisper, calling her, Evaine. Eva turned sharply, looking around the room, reaching out, searching for whatever was calling her name.

How did it even know her name?

It was a setup, a trick, she should have known. Could they see her fumbling around in the dark? Were they filming her? Laughing at her? Pricks.

“Evaine,” the whisper came again, louder. Eva dropped the sword and put her hands over her ears; the last thing she needed was to be creeped out by a voice. Turning full circle, she tried to figure out which direction was the way out, and took a step forward.

The voice came at her, louder, insistent—it was in her head. Eva crouched down, hands outstretched as she searched for the sword, finding comfort when her right hand closed around the hilt. Pushing herself upright, she hefted it, ready for anything that might come at her. If this was a trick, she wasn’t just going to laugh it off, but deep down, that sixth sense nudged her forward, telling her it was no trick and she needed to get out of there. People would know she was here.

“What people?” Damn it, now she was talking to herself. How long did it take for people to go mad?

“OK, what am I supposed to do?”

“Evaine,” the voice called in answer.

“Great, follow the voice.” With her left hand outstretched to feel her way and her right hand gripping the sword, she moved toward the voice. It grew louder, more insistent, like a homing beacon, and she followed it, until her fingertips touched a rough stone wall. The stone was natural, cool to the touch, like the caves she had visited as a child. The feel of it soothed her; it was the first natural thing she had encountered since she had entered the gully.

Eva stepped right, keeping her fingers in contact with the wall. Wrong way. The voice yelled her name, deafening as it pulled her to the left. Shuffling sideways while the voice hammered in her head, Eva didn’t think, she just obeyed. Until the voice stopped.

Her head felt empty, no voice, no sixth sense. She was alone, as if cocooned against the world outside. This had to be the right place. Great, she was going to get what it was and get out of there. Tucking the sword under her arm—it was not the best way to hold a sword, but she didn’t want to risk putting it down and losing it. With two hands she could search faster, and Eva put both hands against the rough wall and began to explore the rock face inch by inch.

What was she searching for? Eva had no idea, but held onto the certainty that when she found it, she would know. Whatever was here, wanted to be found. Something else. It wanted to be found by Eva.

“Then show me where you are.” Stroking the rock, she reached as high as she could, and systematically searched the rock from left to right, moving down a hand’s length, and repeating the process, until she was at eye level. As she stroked the rock, her eyes, blind until now, caught something glowing just beneath the surface.

This was it. This was the Dragon’s Tear she had been sent to retrieve. Retrieve. How could you retrieve something, when you weren’t the one who put it there? However, as she reached into the rock and took out the small glowing stone, it felt familiar, as if she had held it before.

It was warm in her hand, a myriad of colors shimmering across its surface. “Treasure,” she said out loud, her voice making her jump. A shiver ran through her, and she pushed the stone deep into her pocket and made sure it was safe. Time to get out of there.

Eva half expected the roof to start crumbling, rubble piling down on top of her, now that she had removed the glowing stone. It didn’t: everything seemed as it was before, quiet, still, yet menacing. She turned, and her sixth sense kicked in, insistent and urgent, telling her to move her ass and get out of there.

“I’m not arguing,” she said, and turned, following the voice, trying not to run in her haste to leave the place. As she burst out of the entrance, she had to stop and take a moment to calm herself down. Her body shivered as if in shock, and Eva had to put her head between her knees to stop the darkness surrounding her spinning.

Time to move, the voice warned her, and she pushed off from the wall, scrambling across the grass, trying to keep on her feet. The air in the gully was cool, and moisture covered her face as she climbed up the slippery sides. Whether it was mist, or sweat cooling on her face, she didn’t know, didn’t care. All she cared about was being out of that place.

The sense of relief lasted until a great hulk of a beast crashed into her, driving her to the ground. The stench of rotten eggs made her gag. She’d found the source of the smell. That was her last thought before something took over her. Eva’s instinct was a little more proactive than her sense of taste or smell—it knew how to fight.

She raised the sword, warding off the beast; it faltered at the sight of the sword, but didn’t stop, its need to attack her overpowering its sense of self-preservation. Eva evaded it, stepping to the side, its bulk carrying him forward, and it skidded along the ground, slamming into the wall at the bottom of the gully. The beast lay still for a moment, and Eva thought it had knocked himself out. Her hopes were quickly dashed when it staggered to its feet, shaking its head, before turning to charge at her again. She raised the sword, only faltering when the thing got close, and she realized that it wasn’t a beast, it was a hulking giant of a man, with green eyes. Not a natural green, but a vibrant, glowing green that pierced the darkness, like the headlights of a car.

He was human, but not human. A degetty, a demon from the Otherworld, her sixth sense told her.

Whatever he was, she had to fight. It was him or her, and she was not dying here in the mud.

Eva raised the sword, judging the right time to strike. She parried, and he danced to the side, unnaturally light on his feet for a beast so big, but she caught him with the edge of the sword, drawing blood. He made no sound, nothing to indicate he felt pain. She’d expected a roar at least, or a curse word aimed at her. Maybe the degetty were mute. Or maybe he is bound?

Her sixth sense knew things. It reminded her of a talking encyclopedia. When this was over, she wanted answers.

The beast came at her again. This time he was ready for the swing of her sword, and he reached out and grabbed it, yanking it from her, his hand dripping with blood but he didn’t let go. Neither did Evaine; she held on to the hilt with two hands, despite being flung around like a doll as the degetty tried to loosen her grip. It didn’t work, and so the degetty changed tactics and slammed her into the ground, winding her. As the air left her lungs, and a moment of panic overtook her as she tried to force air back into them, she knew that she was beaten.

Black blood dripped along the blade of the sword, making her want to let go, but she clung on. The degetty reached out with his free hand, his hand gripping her throat, trying to choke the life from her. As the world dimmed, a bright light broke through the darkness, like a beacon guiding her home.

So this was it, she was dead. What was she supposed to do? That was it. Go into the light that was the path to heaven.

Only she didn’t have time to go toward the light, before it smashed into the degetty with an explosion of sparks. As the beast fell away, releasing her and the sword, Eva looked up and saw the ghost of a man walking toward her, his clothes white. An angel?

He spoke, reaching out and pulling her to her feet. “Come on, that won’t keep him down for long, and my power is diminished.”

“Who are you?” she asked.

“A friend.” He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her up the slope, out of the gully and into the open country.

Together they ran. “My car is over there.”

“Then let’s get you to it,” he said.

In the dark she could not make out his features, other than shoulder-length blond hair, arched eyebrows, and sharp cheekbones. She waited for her sixth sense to fill in the details, but it gave her nothing. It didn’t matter, she was safe with this man, he had rescued her from the beast.

Exhaustion and an ache deep in her bones from her tangle with the degetty slowed her. But he dragged her along, his urgency making her delve deep to find the strength to run.

“You aren’t coming with me?” she asked, when they finally reached her small red car, where he bundled her into the seat and slammed the door shut.

“No. I have something I have to do,” he said in a grave voice.

“At least tell me your name.”

“My name?” He smirked. “Why not. My name is Gareth Hollingsworth.”

“I won’t tell anyone, if that keeps you safe,” she said thinking of the big beast that had tried to kill her.

“You don’t have to keep it to yourself,” Gareth said, his smirk widening. “In fact, I insist you tell everyone, so they might know the name of the man who helped you.” He put his hands on the open window, leaning closer to add with a dramatic flair, “And fear me.”

Then he was gone, slipping back into the shadows. “Weird.” She started the engine, her hand going to the stone in her pocket, relieved it was still there and Gareth hadn’t stolen it from her. Then she drove off, trying to put as many miles as possible between her and the degetty.

She had done it, she had succeeded, and now she was going to go and get her mother back, and she might finally be able to ask all the questions she had about who she was, and why she had been abandoned.