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
