Page 34 of Polestar (The Global Paranormal Security Agency #3)

TWENTY-SEVEN

“A na! Can you hear me, Ana?” Antony’s voice boomed through Ana’s consciousness.

“Yes, stop shouting.” She groaned as energy continued to thrum through her while her shoulder throbbed with discomfort. She was back in the white space, the cave of coalescing colors nowhere to be seen.

This time, the texture to the place was different.

Internally, she felt different. The weight—no, the closedness—of her heart had lessened. Like her protective walls had crumbled away. It felt more open. Raw. Free.

“Ah thank God. I thought I’d lost you there for a minute.”

“Only a minute?” She reached out, touching the film surrounding her.

I thought it was more like thirty…

“Yeah, you were talking about a bear, then just went quiet for a minute. I was freaking out here.”

“Sorry,” she murmured, fingers scratching at the film she’d been unable to see before, and pushed with her fingertip. It gave way like a dusty web coating an abandoned doorway.

Swiping at the clingy stuff, she cleared the way to step through into a room she’d never seen before, but instantly knew was the king’s chamber.

And it was a busy place as she took in her new surroundings.

Antony stood to her immediate left, expression drawn in worry as he looked her over. At her feet lay her body, eyes closed and pale. Across from her body, she faced another mirror aspect of herself, which sent a shiver through her.

This is too weird. I really need to wake up.

You can’t wake up yet, she said. Her other self pointed to an old man standing by the king’s bedside.

The shaman.

He needs you to break the spell before the king dies.

Shouting drew Ana’s focus to the other side of the room, where Elias stood inside the doorway facing his mother and her companion. Magnus lay unconscious at their feet, a blanket draped over him.

“That human needs to be imprisoned,” Ulla Matochkin said to the guards beyond the room as she pointed at Ana’s inert body on the floor. “We stopped her from assassinating the king for Magnus.”

Ana laughed at the ridiculous accusation, drawing Yvan’s attention.

He opened his mouth to speak when the shaman suddenly appeared in front of him. “Filth! Despoiler!”

Yvan grinned at the old man.

“What is so funny?” Elias demanded of the magician. “My grandfather is nearly dead, and my home is in chaos.”

“Nothing, your highness,” Yvan said to the prince, checking himself.

It must be done now, before it’s too late. Ana’s other self , pleaded with her. I will help bridge you .

“Shaman,” Ana said, drawing the old man’s attention. “I think I can help you.”

With a final scowl at Yvan, he blinked forward, peering into Ana’s face. She had no idea what he saw, but after a moment he searched the room, his gaze stopping at her twin before he nodded.

“What’s going on?” Antony asked her.

“Seems my other self over there insists we can help the Shaman.”

“Other self?” his eyes widened, looking around the room.

“You can’t see her? The shaman can.”

Yvan, watching the exchange, blanched. Again, he opened his mouth, lifting his hand toward Ana’s body. He shouted two words when he was interrupted.

“Stop!” Elias commanded; eyes narrowed on the man with disgust. “There will be no conjuring in this room.”

Ana’s other self stepped forward, reaching out her hands toward Ana and the Shaman.

The shaman placed his hand in hers. Ana hesitated, looked up into the old man’s eyes, and touched the proffered hand.

So many things happened all at once and none of them eased the uncomfortable sensations roiling through her body.

Yes, her body. The hard floor was distinct below her, the painted ceiling above her was breathtakingly beautiful and Antony’s face was far too close to hers. Her hand lifted, shoving him away, but she wasn’t controlling it or the rest of her as she struggled to her feet, head swimming.

God, I feel like I’m going to puke .

She reached for her head, but the other force occupying her body forced it away as her feet stomped her toward the king’s bed.

“What’s happening? What’s wrong with her?” Elias demanded, eyes wide.

“Silence, young man!” The shaman barked through Ana’s vocal chords.

Ana cringed, almost dislodging herself from her body.

Don’t! Her other Self warned, also from within. You agreed to do this. If you retract your will, the shaman won’t be able to save the king or break the sigils.

From the other side of the room Magnus groaned as he regained consciousness.

“Father!” Elias said, crouching down beside him.

“What’s happening?” he rasped, rubbing his throat where Havard had nearly strangled him to death.

“I’m not sure, but I think your Ana is channeling the shaman.”

The sensation of the shaman’s being occupying her body wigged her out.

“Antony, this feels so weird,” she said as he stepped into the space beside her.

She continued to resist the urge to shake the old man out as their beings seemed to vie for space, slipping against one another while trying not to force the other out.

Relax.

She tried. Truly she tried.

While she focused on that, the shaman continued his work.

“You don’t know what she’s doing. Why would she be channeling your dead shaman? She could be trying to finish what she started to ensure the king’s demise,” Yvan protested.

Elias moved so that he faced Yvan, scowling up into his face. “I know my shaman’s voice when I hear it. Do not interfere.”

Magnus stumbled to his feet. “He’s worried that Ana and the Shaman will break his spell, releasing the control he and Wulker have over their victims. Including Aksel.” He directed the last words at Ulla.

“Don’t listen to his lies, Ulla. We’d never— I ’d never do such a thing.”

Ulla moved next to her son, holding Yvan’s gaze. “Wouldn’t you?”

Ana couldn’t maintain her focus on the exchange any longer. Whatever the shaman was doing, he pulled her into it.

The old man chanted a Barentian song, hands extended over the King’s head and torso. His soul’s force drew power up through the soles of her feet, along her legs and into her heart where it churned around and around, making her feel like she had awe-inspiring heartburn.

The power gathering, combining with the emotion in her physical body, made her shake and tremble with possibility.

She was an open conduit to the Shaman’s will as he pulled what he needed from the surrounding earth to boost the king’s soul energy and keep him alive.

Next, Ana felt as though the shaman jack-knifed the power, swinging an extended right arm in Yvan’s direction.

Hold on! Ana’s other self —her Higher Self yelled as her grasp on Ana’s and the Shaman’s spirits tightened.

Yvan lurched toward the Shaman, chest first, as though dragged closer.

The tenor of the words changed as the Shaman’s left hand hovered an inch above the black ink sigil marring his king’s throat.

Yvan struggled against the invisible grip, grunting and crying out as though the Shaman was clawing something out of him.

The inked sigil appeared to burn off in layers until it streamed away, soaking into the king’s pillow, leaving his skin clear again.

Once the sigil was gone from beneath the shaman’s right hand, he swung it too, in Yvan’s direction, an inch from his throat now. Chest arched out, throat pressed in, he struggled on tiptoe against the shaman’s power, gasping.

“No. No. No!”

“You wish to steal and defile our sacred magics?” The shaman growled at the human magician.

Now, the energy of the Shaman’s bear surged forward, snapping at Yvan with vengeance.

Its energy threatened to overpower Ana. Had it not been for the hold her Higher Self maintained on her, rooting her in her body as the Shaman exacted justice, she would have been consumed by it.

Ana snarled in Yvan’s face as her fingers curled into claws, as though she held his heart in one hand, his throat in the other. She felt the rapid beat of his heart against her palm, the gush of air through his windpipe at her fingertips.

From her left palm, energy, white and hot, seared the skin of Yvan’s throat. By the time she was done—the shaman was done. It scarred him with the same sigil, without the ink.

Instead of the octopus shifter’s venom fueling the curse, Yvan’s own power looped back into it, binding his will, containing any magic he had within his own body.

Done. The Shaman released his hold.

Yvan dropped to the floor at Ana’s feet.

The room was silent except for her panting.

“Havard!” a guard outside the room shouted at the sound of another body dropping to the floor.

The shaman turned toward his king, and seeing that the king’s breath came steady and strong in his still-unconscious state, he nodded, released his hold on Ana and stepped outside of her.

She collapsed to the floor.

“Oh god, I’m going to puke for real this time.” She gagged, hand to her mouth, trying to contain herself.

Having tied the blanket around his hips, Magnus pulled Ana to her feet, crushing her to him. “What the fuck just happened?”

She couldn’t draw enough breath to answer with her face mashed into his chest. Her arms encircled his waist, drawing comfort from his nearness.

The king groaned, and everyone turned their wide-eyed stares in his direction.

“Mngsf.” Ana’s muffled plea earned her instant release as Magnus peered down into her face.

His thumbs traced the bruises as he scowled. “I should rip them apart for this.”

“Your highness, there are some outsiders requesting an audience in the great hall.” A guard said, glancing between Elias and the King.

The king struggled to sit up.

Ulla rushed forward, “You shouldn’t strain yourself—.”

“Get away from me!” the king roared. To the same guard, he said, “Take this woman and detain her in her quarters. No one in or out until I decide what to do with her. And send someone to tend to our guests while I prepare.”

“Yes, sir,” the guard said, clearly shocked, as he reached for Ulla.

“Don’t touch me!” she ripped her arm out of his grasp and marched out of the room. Yvan moved to follow her.

“Take that one downstairs with guards. If he tries to run away, maim him.”

Ana scanned the room. Only the king, Magnus and the prince remained. The shaman and Antony looked on.

The shaman’s curious stare made her uncomfortable. With a quick glance, she noticed that not only was her other self not visible, but that she felt solid. Whole in a way she never had before.

The shaman’s wrinkled, tattooed faces split in a grin. “Even more enhanced human now.”

She blinked, not understanding what that meant.

Beside her, Antony laughed.

“I’m going to check on my guys, Ana. I’ll find you again soon.” He was gone before she could respond.

She whispered to Magnus. “Should I wait outside while you talk to your father and son?”

“I’m going to hazard a guess that our outsider visitors belong to you.” The king said to Ana and Magnus. “Am I right?” He turned to Elias.

Elias nodded. “Kane’s team is here for you.”

“Wulker?”

“They have him,” Elias confirmed.

Tears sprang to Ana’s eyes.

Magnus gripped her to him. “Then it’s done.”

She pulled away, smiling up into his face. “It’s done.”

He bent to press his lips to hers. “I will join you soon. Unless I’m to return to my cell.” He glanced at the king over Ana’s head.

“We have things to discuss,” the king said, dismissing Ana.

Magnus nibbled her lips one final time, whispering, “I had one hell of a dream while I was unconscious.”

Ana slipped out of his grasp, her fingers lingering in his as she moved toward the door. She slid her hand over the shoulder he’d bitten. “That wasn’t a dream.”

His eyes widened as she exited the room, closing the door behind her.