Shadowline Drift: A Metaphysical Thriller (15 page)

Read Shadowline Drift: A Metaphysical Thriller Online

Authors: Alexes Razevich

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Genre Fiction, #Metaphysical, #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Thrillers & Suspense, #Suspense, #Science Fiction & Fantasy, #Fantasy, #Metaphysical & Visionary, #Science Fiction

BOOK: Shadowline Drift: A Metaphysical Thriller
12.26Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

He shoved the thought of Pilar out of his mind and willed the line back
toward the clearing. He wanted to look at it, to see what he’d brought, to watch it grow wide. Could Mawgis look at it straight-on? It didn’t seem fair somehow if he could—Jake doing all the work and Mawgis getting to see the glory. Jake shifted his gaze and saw the older man’s eyes locked at the spot where Jake felt the trace—saw the need on Mawgis’s face, how he leaned forward.

“
You see it,” Jake said. “It’s close now. You can almost touch it, can’t you?”

Mawgis nodded.
His voice sounded almost wistful. “It’s magnificent. Silver and blue. That’s what drew me, you know—the cruel trick of its beauty that stranded me here.” His voice hardened. “Open it now, Jake. Open it wide so I can step through.”

The shadowline wavered just outside his sight. Mawgis had said it would widen when it got to them. Not quite the truth, though
Jake didn’t know why he’d expected different. Why did this lie, hardly different from any other Mawgis had told, make his face grow hot, his muscles clench, his head feel ready to explode? Because it was no different. Mawgis lied or told the truth almost
without reason. Nothing he said could be believed. Nothing.

“
Fuck you,” he said, and let the shadowline go.

Fifteen

 

“Bring it back.” Mawgis grabbed Jake’s arm, fingers crushing hard into his skin. “Where is your honor? I gave you the antidote. You have what you want. Hold up your end of the bargain.”

Jake felt
the shadowline slipping, floating away, drifting into the trees, beyond, to the forest, slow, like a curtain in a breeze now, but connected still, as though he held it by his fingertips. Felt a new awareness, like an acknowledgement—he and the shadowline, partners with and against Mawgis.

“
I want something else, too,” Jake said, yanking his arm free from the other’s hold, “before I send you back to wherever you came from. I want my height.”

The older man
opened his mouth to speak but Jake shook his head, cutting him off. “Not perception. Not somehow making people see what isn’t true. I want reality, and proof of it.”

Mawgis glared at him, then
looked toward the trees where the trace had disappeared. “It’s the woman. You want to be
manly
for her. You believe she won’t care for you the way you looked when she first saw you. So what does she care for, then? The man you appear to be, or the man you are? Bring the shadowline back and go find out.”

“
Do you know why I want this, Mawgis? Not for the reason you think. I need it to prove to myself you’re not always a liar. To believe that the real cure is on that piece of paper you gave me. Make me believe, and I’ll send you home.”

Mawgis pulled his
gaze away from the trees and back to Jake. “I told you, I don’t know which is true.”

“You’d better figure it out, or you’ll be here a long time thinking about it.”

Mawgis pressed his lips together, not much
different from the way Pilar did when she was thinking. He gave a small smile and turned his hands palms up.

“
It was just a bit of fun, Jake. Nothing for you to be angry about. A bit of amusement, telling you I didn’t know. Of course I know. I did it, didn’t I? I made you grow. I thought you would take my offer to make you
seem
tall, leave you in my debt, as it were. Even if I weren’t here to see it, I would know that you owed me. It would have made me happy.”

Jake felt the trace slipping awa
y, moving faster now as his anger rose, his tenuous hold breaking. He needed to control it. Needed it to come if he called. He relaxed his head and shoulders, closed his eyes, and stilled his mind. It was funny, the connection he had made with the shadowline—as if they were in sympathy. Had learned each other’s rhythms. He opened his eyes.

“
Which is it, Mawgis? Perception or reality?”

Mawgis shifted from foot to foot.
“Bring the shadowline back and I’ll prove the truth for you.”

He was getting good at
this, Jake thought, feeling the line close now, just outside the clearing. He felt the way the air changed as the line held its position, then slowly, slowly floated again toward him. He caught the trace at the tail of his eye as it moved inside the trees.

“
Prove it how?”

The older man licked his lips
. “Open it, Jake. Open it and I’ll show you.”

Fool me once, Jake thought, but really, what was the alternative?
Connection or not, how many times could he let the shadowline go before he couldn’t bring it back? And then what? Then Mawgis would be here forever. Mawgis, trapped and bored, and thinking up ways to amuse himself that were worse than loosing benesha on the world.

If opening the shadowline
was a matter of will, then he had to want it, and want it badly. And he did. Wanted Mawgis gone. Wanted to get out of this place of too much green and not enough light and too many things he didn’t understand—and to bring the world the cure. Wanted to be Tall Jake when this was all over. Wanted to see what was really there, if anything, with Pilar.

“
Good, Jake,” Mawgis whispered. “You’re doing good. Just a little more.”

He
shifted his view and saw Mawgis—the older man’s fists clenched at his sides, his eyes
closed—willing alongside him—brothers now, with different motivations but one goal.

The air felt thick, like a blanket constricting him.
Jake opened his mouth to breathe. The low thrum grew to a high-pitched whistle that seemed to fill up the world, and Jake wanted more than anything to cover his ears, but he didn’t, couldn’t—afraid he’d spook the shadowline. Mawgis muttered under his breath, harsh-sounding words in an unknown language. Jake could feel the line receding. His pulse sped. Stopping his growth had been an accident. What had made either of them think he could open the shadowline on purpose?

Closer
. Blood rushing to his face, burning beneath his skin. Ears ringing.

Come closer
.

He felt the shadowline inch back, saw it from the tail of his eye
—silver and blue, gleaming in the dim gray light in the clearing.

Closer. Closer
.

Saw
Mawgis’s frown draw to a straight line.

Here. I need you here. Now. Open
.

The upward curve of the lips
. The older man taking a slow, tentative step forward.

Stay,
Jake willed the shadowline.
Stay and open. Let this bastard go home.

Mawgis took another step, moving out of Jake
’s vision. Jake could see the line glittering at the edge of his peripheral view, drifting slowly, growing darker, wider. The wind rose, scattering leaves, dirt, and small stones around his legs. The
call and song of birds, the chattering of monkeys, the buzz of insects—all gone. The high-pitched wail grew loud, louder, a stabbing, sharp pain in his ears.

“Almost, Jake,” Mawgis shouted over the wail. The older man anxiously rubbed his hands on his thighs. “Just a little more now.”

Deep
breath in. Jake tried to shake off the fatigue clutching at him and the giddiness it’d brought.

“Now’s the time, Mawgis. Answer the question. Show me the proof.”

A
new sound in the wail, raw and guttural, from where Mawgis stood. Jake wanted to look, started to turn his head, but stopped, afraid any movement would send the shadowline off again. The urge to grab Mawgis by the throat and shake the truth from him was nearly overwhelming.

He
caught sight of a long green snake wound around a fern with thick, fleshy leaves. The fern shook and danced, but the snake held on, a thin green surfer on a great green wave. He focused his eyes on the snake and set his mind on opening the shadowline, still not sure how to do that. He wanted the cure to be real. He wanted Mawgis gone. All of it impossible if the shadowline didn’t open.

Lightning
from a cloudless sky hit a nearby tree—smell of burning wood. Real lightning? Or something bleeding through from Mawgis’s world?

A gasping, strangled sound from where Mawgis stood.
Jake gritted his teeth to keep from looking. Was the other man caught in the
shadowline? Had it suddenly shut? The wail in the air grew so loud that Jake could hardly bear it.

Open. Open
.

He huddled
in on himself, arms pressed to his sides, eyes slitted against the sound. Maybe it was all a lie. Something Naheyo had said came back to him—that she wanted Jake gone before he “kicked over the anthill.” Before the ants came flooding out. Naheyo had kept him drugged and asleep so this moment wouldn’t happen—so he wouldn’t help Mawgis. Because maybe Mawgis didn’t want to go home. He wanted his kind to come through. “We are gods to your kind,” Mawgis had said. Jake’s shoulders trembled, fear rushing through him. Was he helping to bring an invasion?

He
clenched his fists and stared at the snake in the fern. The acrid smell of ozone drove out the smoke scent in the air. Hold the shadowline or let it go? Truth or lies. A choice to make.

“
Jake,” Mawgis called, his voice as sharp as flint.

In
the bright crack of Mawgis’s word, Jake felt something fill him. It should have gone the other way. The tone should have made him angry, made him let the shadowline go. Instead he felt peaceful. Weightless, and perfectly grounded. Poured full of sure knowledge—knowledge that at that moment, whatever he believed would be true. Whatever he chose would happen. The shadowline, open as a lover’s heart. Mawgis gone. Him as tall as a mountain. Whatever he wanted. Felt it in his own
heart, the golden moment when everything was right—he was invincible, and could do anything.

Leaves, dirt, and small twigs
whirled—a dust devil spinning crazily through the clearing, knocking bits and pieces hard against his legs and arms. A new smell in the air—sweetly putrid, decaying. An acrid, chemical taste in his mouth. The whine grew high pitched, louder, covering all the sound in the world. Jake felt a trickle of blood, warm and wet below his ear. He could go deaf, but no—that wasn’t possible, because he was a giant and the smell and taste and sound were small, and the blood was small, and nothing, nothing could stop him.

The laugh started low in his belly, a chuckle growing, sliding up th
ough his chest into his throat. He threw back his head and let the laughter escape, run free into the shrill whine and the rotten air. Not the way he’d laughed with Pilar, in relief. He laughed now from joy. From power. Because he owned the world and Mawgis was a tiny ant he could crush anytime, and the shadowline was his to command. He laughed, hands crossed over his stomach, leaning forward, and when he thought maybe he sounded insane, he didn’t mind, and kept laughing, washing the acrid taste from his mouth. Laughter stilling the wild shriek in the air, bringing quiet. Settling the dust devils that had thrown dirt in his eyes, making them burn. Calming the flying debris in the clearing. He laughed and laughed, and
rubbed his eyes with his fingers, wiping away the grit. Felt the water there, and knew he was sobbing.

 

 

A lone bird chirped in
a tree. Harsh, staccato chirps. He would have liked a lilting song. The bird fell silent.

He
pulled himself up, spine straight, and pushed the hair out of his face, smeared away the tears. Dazed, he listened, waiting for the bird to call again, and looked around the clearing.

Mawgis was gone.

The bird called again, and was answered by another.

Mawgis was gone.
And the wail. The smell. The acrid taste of the air. He looked up, and through the small opening in the canopy, saw a clear, blue sky.

He stood alone in the clearing, listening to
the returning noise of birds and the whir of insects. Normal. His muscles burned. His breath came shallow. He shifted his view to the tree that had been struck—split down the center, blackened almost to the edges. He stumbled back to the stump where he and Mawgis had sat and collapsed onto its hard surface, hands between his knees, eyes staring down at dirt and leaves, at shifting shadows—seeing nothing.

 

He pulled his head up and looked around. The paper
in his pocket was real when he stood and
pulled it out, holding his breath as he unfolded it. There were words—not words that made sense, but they were there. He exhaled and carefully folded the paper back into a little square and stowed it away again. His skin felt prickly. If not for the lightning-struck tree, he might not believe what had happened here. What he’d done.

He
’d been smart this time and had broken several branches at the spot where they’d come into the clearing. He’d broken branches and torn leaves all the way along their route, determined that Mawgis wasn’t going to leave him alone and lost this time.

Slowly h
e walked around the clearing until he found the spot where they’d entered—where the snake had ridden the fern, he realized. The snake was gone. He picked his way carefully, watching for the torn leaves and broken branches that marked the route back to the compound. To the world outside the forest. To a telephone, and a warning.

He came to a large tree with thick roots spreading over the trail. He stepped over them easily, and thought that proved he wasn
’t small again. With Mawgis gone, Jake thought the illusion would vanish. The broken branches and torn leaves weren’t high above his head now; they were waist-level. The same height they’d been on the mad run with Mawgis. He was taller. The man he was meant to be.

Unless the illusion persisted awhile, only to vanish in the morning, or the moment someone saw him. The moment
he saw Pilar.

The ar
m of a tall fern slapped his face. He pushed it aside.

Other books

Jonathan's Hope by Hirschi, Hans M.
The Perfume Collector by Tessaro, Kathleen
Black Hole by Bucky Sinister
Nothing Real Volume 1 by Claire Needell
Gail Eastwood by An Unlikely Hero
The Serpent and the Scorpion by Clare Langley-Hawthorne
Pure Red by Danielle Joseph
Drowning Lessons by Peter Selgin