The Light-Bearer's Daughter Read Free

to him that she wished he were more normal, like her best friend’s dad who worked in a bank. Gabriel didn’t even own a suit.
    “I want to go back,” he said quietly. “I haven’t been there since … before you were born. I know it’ll be hard for you at first, but you’ll love it in the end. Canada is a great country.”
    It was the quiet tone that convinced her his decision was final. She stared at him speechless. Had she been the sort of girl who cried, she would have burst into tears. Instead, she gritted her teeth and spat out her words.
    “You didn’t even ask me! We didn’t even talk about it! Like it’s got nothing to do with me! You’re just a … a dictator! I hate you! ”
    Jumping up from the table, she stormed into the house.
    Minutes later, he heard the bedroom door slam.
    Gabriel stared at the last of the raspberries pooling in red juice at the bottom of the bowl. The days ahead would be a nightmare. He knew what to expect—quarrels, tantrums, and sullen silences. But wasn’t that at the heart of his decision? Not her moods or defiance, but his inability to handle them. His own fears and lacks. There were times when he simply didn’t know what to do. While he had managed to muddle through her childhood with reasonable success, the past year had unnerved him. There was no manual for rearing an adolescent girl on one’s own. He needed help. His mother was eager to see more of her grandchild, and his two younger sisters were like teenagers themselves. When things got rough, he could call in the cavalry.
    Gabriel started to clear the table. Yes, it was the right decision. For both of them. Now all he had to do was convince his daughter.

 
    eep in the woods, the spoor of red mist trailed through the trees. Squirrels sat up in their dreys, alert. The chirr of insects ceased. A fox stopped in its tracks, nose to the air, hair bristling. A wild rabbit thumped the ground . Warning. Danger. All held themselves rigid, awaiting catastrophe .
    At first the demon clung to the fetid shade of the undergrowth, avoiding the light that worsened its pain. In misshapen and inchoate form, it instinctively sought life to feed upon, consuming the insects that crossed its path. Killing brought relief. It grew ravenous for more. The mother bird screeched helplessly as her young were devoured. The hare tried to outrun its fate but to no avail. And the great antlered deer fought with ferocious courage before it, too, fell .
    As the shadow’s strength grew, shreds of image and memory coalesced into thought .
    It had a mission .
    A target to destroy .
    What? Or who?
    It knew that it did not belong to this place, yet it had been here before. Before the fiery blast that had ravaged its mind .
    So much was lost. So much it needed to remember! And even as it grasped for knowledge, it sensed the two worlds that existed around it, peopled with many different beings. One world was solid and visible; the other of a different fabric, lapping against the first like waves against the shore. In which of these worlds would it find its prey?
    And how could it carry out its mission in its crippled state?
    It needed to grow, to learn, to know .
    Creeping through the half-light of dusk, under cover of the forest canopy, it came to a clearing where a bonfire burned. The warmth and brightness of the flames repelled it, but it did not flee. Already it sensed some kinship here. Cloaked in gloom, it watched and waited, brooding upon the scene .
    A band of brave companions sat together, laughing and talking. Drinking cups were passed among them and plates of cheese and oaten bread. The chieftain was a robust man with a weathered face and a hearty laugh. There was a flame within him as bright as the campfire itself .
    With the firelight flickering in his features, the chieftain put a question to his comrades .
    “What is the most beautiful sound in the world?”
    They cheered at each other’s replies .
    “The calling of a cuckoo from a high