threatening place. I saw a place where, just for once, the dangers that my dad had warned me about were real. My dad. I remembered something he’d once said.
We were walking past the quarry, and I’d asked him if anyone ever went in. “No,” he’d said. “No one who’s supposed to.”
“What do you mean?” I’d said. But he’d just frowned, changed the subject. I’d asked him again and again. But he wouldn’t tell me. And he wouldn’t say why.
Now, a chill ran through me as I wondered what my dad had known. Who had been in the quarry? And why would they leave such a vicious trap?
I ran my hands over my face, swore under my breath. I’d been careless, blundering. I’d been lucky to have escaped unhurt—so far. I looked again at the car, squinted doubtfully all around. If I could see something to stand on, I’d grab it and turn back. I’d take it as a sign. And I’d take all the bad things that had happened to me—the stinking bog, the leaking chemical drums, the hidden nails—as signs that I should go no farther, that I should go straight back to the fence and get the hell out of there.
But there was nothing useful in sight. And that seemed like a sign I should go on. “Stick to the plan,” I said. “Now you know what to watch out for. Be careful.” And cautiously skirting around the carpet, picking my way through the long grass, I went on. “You’ll be OK,” I said. “You’ll be OK.”
Chapter 6
3,500 BC
BURLIC BARELY NOTICED the sounds of the village fading into the distance as he strode into the night. He thought only of Waeccan. And revenge.
Ahead, the path led into the forest. Into darkness. Into wind-creaked branches and shifting shadows. Into the lair of the spirits, the Shades. This is their time , Burlic thought. This is their forest . He should stop, turn back. He stumbled, tripping over his feet, but he did not slow his pace.
“Just you wait, Waeccan,” he muttered. “You can’t stop me with your trickery now.”
Next to the path, a broad oak stood solid, unmoved by the breeze. And yet its shadow stirred. Burlic did not see. He blundered ahead, noticed nothing. Soon, it would be too late.
Beneath the tree, a man watched, waited. Clumsy and careless , he thought. This shouldn’t be too difficult after all . He readied himself. Waited. He had been waiting for a long time. Now he could hear Burlic’s every breath. He tensed. His moment had almost come. A heartbeat. And then he pounced.
There was barely a whisper of rushing air as he launched himself at Burlic. Even so, Burlic managed to turn to face the danger, his hand flashed to his knife, his knees bent, ready to fight. But it was not enough. Someone was on him, and Burlic was down, flat on his back, the breath crushed from his body. His assailant loomed above him, his weight pressing him down, pinning his arms to his sides. Burlic gritted his teeth, sucked in a breath and strained to free his arms. But it was no use. There was no escape. You fool , he thought. How could you have been so stupid?
Burlic glared at the silhouette of his attacker, bared his teeth. But the snarl died on his lips as the figure slowly leaned down toward his face. And spoke. A single hissed word: “Burlic.”
Burlic gasped. This man knew his name. But no one from the village would do this. Who then? Or what? He stopped struggling. A cold fear squirmed in his stomach. It was a Shade. A Shade was on him. He had trespassed in their forest, and they had caught him. And now they had his name. And if a Shade spoke your name, you were lost. Burlic could feel his strength, his life, draining away.
Still the figure’s face grew nearer. Burlic moaned. His stomach turned. And yet something was wrong—something familiar, something he couldn’t place. A smell. That was it. He could smell meat on its breath. The Shades didn’t eat, did they? So this was a man. An ordinary man. And he could be fought. Burlic clenched his teeth, gathered his