Walking Through Shadows Read online

  Table of Contents

  Synopsis

  Praise for Sheri Lewis Wohl

  By the Author

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Books Available From Bold Strokes Books

  Walking Through Shadows

  Molly Williams is a powerful hereditary witch who manages to keep her powers under control as she tries to be normal. Most of the time, it works.

  An invitation from friends Winnie and Angus is just the diversion she needs right now, and she jumps at the offer to go backpacking along the Umatilla River in northeast Oregon. When a freak storm forces them to take shelter in a secluded, crumbling cabin, their trip takes an unexpected turn. The moment Molly touches a leather-bound book discovered in the floorboards, they’re transported back in time.

  Only with the help of the mysterious and beautiful Native American woman Aquene do they stay one step ahead of a band of witch hunters. Will Molly find the right magic to get them home before the hunters find her? Or will she risk it all to stay at Aquene’s side?

  Praise for Sheri Lewis Wohl

  Scarlet Revenge

  “Vampire stories have been written by hundreds of authors, but this is probably one of the few times that you will actually see one who works at the Library of Congress…With the setting of the story, it almost gives the feel of National Treasure meets paranormal.”—American Library Association’s GLBT Round Table

  Vermilion Justice

  “It’s probably impossible to read this book and not come across a character who reminds you of someone you actually know. Wohl takes something as fictional as vampires and makes them feel real. Highly recommended.”—American Library Association’s GLBT Round Table

  Necromantia

  “This is one of the most sensational and thrilling books I have read in a long time. From the stirring opening scenes to the dramatic and exhilarating conclusion, this novel keeps the reader completely engrossed.”—Inked Rainbow Reviews

  Walking Through Shadows

  Brought to you by

  eBooks from Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  http://www.boldstrokesbooks.com

  eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  Please respect the rights of the author and do not file share.

  Walking Through Shadows

  © 2017 By Sheri Lewis Wohl. All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN 13: 978-1-62639-967-9

  This Electronic Original is published by

  Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  P.O. Box 249

  Valley Falls, NY 12185

  First Edition: August 2017

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

  Credits

  Editor: Shelley Thrasher

  Production Design: Stacia Seaman

  Cover Design By Sheri ([email protected])

  By the Author

  Spiritus Group Series

  Crimson Vengeance

  Burgundy Betrayal

  Scarlet Revenge

  Vermilion Justice

  Reluctant Psychic Series

  Twisted Echoes

  Twisted Whispers

  Twisted Screams

  Necromantia

  She Wolf

  Walking through Shadows

  In Memory of

  Loba & Falco

  As you crossed the Rainbow Bridge

  you took a part of my heart with you.

  I find solace in the knowledge

  you left behind a world just a little better

  because you were in it.

  “If Satan’s kingdome be divided

  against it selfe,

  how shall it stand?”

  The Discovery of Witches

  Matthew Hopkins, Witch-Finder

  M.DC.XLVII.

  Prologue

  Along the Columbia River, 1836

  The pounding hooves finally stopped. The pounding of Hannah’s heart did not. Outside, the storm raged, and rain pelted the roof as the wind howled. Chills raised the skin on her arms, and water dripped onto the rough floor from the hem of her dress. Had there been light inside the small space, she would have seen the water did not run clear. Instead, it stained the floor red as it saturated the wood.

  Hannah clutched the book tight to her chest and looked wildly about, trying to see in the veil of darkness. Her eyes adjusted, and she was finally able to make out a bit of detail. The room was small, with only two windows, one with a broken corner where the wind pushed through, bringing a spray of rain with it to dampen her face and spot the leather binding of the book she held.

  Time had run out. She had hoped and prayed the gods would give her more, and now she understood it was not to be. Just as had happened to so many of her sisters as they had pressed westward in the hope of finding safe haven, she had failed. Her powers could no longer aid her, and soon her spirit would be set free from the restraints of this earth. She would join those who had gone before her. She looked forward to gazing upon faces she had not seen for many years. She ached for what she would leave behind. Now she prayed only that her daughter would remain safe. Deep in her heart she had to believe what she’d done would carry her precious daughter to a long life.

  Leaving her beautiful, trusting daughter outside the gates of the fort was risky, but she had to take that chance. All they had built, all they had sought rested solely in the hope of the child of her heart.

  She held the vision of her little girl’s face in her mind and the book close to her body. How many had died to protect the wisdom between its pages? It would do her no good to think of that now. As the last, she had to protect the knowledge it contained. Perhaps in the future the gods would lead her descendant to it. She had written her words to the child she prayed would one day be born and walk the same path as she.

  A flash of lightning lit up the cabin, and though she had spent many days and nights in this room, it was the first time she noticed the space between the boards of the floor. Dropping to her knees, she laid the book next to her and began to work at the crack with her fingertips. As she pried, slivers from the edges of the floorboards dug into her skin. Blood dripped as she clawed at the boards until she had loosened two of them enough she could pull them free. Her blood soaked into the leather of
the book as she maneuvered it through the opening. At last it lay flat on the ground below. She had created it herself and hoped the attention she had given it would keep it safe and intact. After she replaced the boards, she kneeled on them and began to chant, holding her arms out at her sides, palms toward the heavens. Her words were low, drowned by the raging storm outside. No one would hear them anyway, save the gods she prayed to.

  As her words trailed away, she heard the sound of approaching hoofbeats. They had found her trail again and were tracking her as if she were a deer fleeing from the slaughter. She pressed her bloody fingers against her lips to stop the scream that threatened to burst forth. A metallic taste filled her mouth.

  She sagged to the floor, and the pain began to push at her spirit. On the shelves at the walls hung herbs she could use to help ease her discomfort. She did not move. It did not matter any longer if she was in pain. It did not matter if they found her. It would be useless to run; she had nowhere left to hide, and she lacked the will to even try. Curling into a ball, she closed her eyes, and calm settled over her. Her daughter was safe, which gave her peace. So too did the knowledge that a time would come, had to come, once more for the power of the book to be released.

  It was not this night. She had left what little magic she could summon with the book and the spell to keep it hidden at least for a little while. It had to be enough.

  The door slammed against the wall, and a gush of wind and rain poured through the opening. A spray of cold rain water whipped across her face, only to slide down her cheeks like the sobs she did not have the strength to produce. Rough hands grabbed her arms and dragged her back out into the storm, her blood surely leaving dark streaks across the wooden floor. She could barely feel their harsh touch or the wind or the rain.

  Chapter One

  Spokane, Washington

  Present day

  “No, no, no, and no.” Molly Williams could hardly grasp a disaster of such proportions. She stepped back and ran her hands through her hair. Standing in the open door of the walk-in freezer, she stared at what was left of her week’s work: piles of sodden cake, dripping decorations, and running colors. The fire that had started in one of her ovens overnight had turned her business into a huge wet and worthless mess, one that smelled nothing like its usual sweet scent of vanilla. Now it reeked like a nearly dead campfire.

  The fire marshal stood behind her. “It’s not a total loss, but we’ll have to complete the investigation before you can move toward repairs.”

  Molly turned and stared at him. “Investigation?” It was a fire, plain and simple. Button it up and let her get back to business. How hard could that be? Then it hit her. “You think I did this?” She waved her arms to encompass the mess that less than twelve hours ago had been a shining operation filled with wonderful baked goods and prize-winning cakes.

  His neutral expression didn’t change, and she suspected he was quite experienced at dealing with distraught victims. And she was a victim, regardless of what he thought. “Ms. Williams, you have to understand that it’s routine procedure to trace the source of any fire. I’m not saying you did or didn’t do anything. The fire will tell us the full story. It always does.”

  All right, she actually did understand. It was just hard to stand in the middle of the charred shell of her dream and not want to stomp her feet and throw a childish tantrum. It wasn’t fair. It had taken ten long years to make this place a success, and now it all, literally, had gone up in smoke. She’d given up so much to make a go of it, including a personal life. Now she had nothing. No business. No one to go home to.

  Her shoulders dropped and she sighed. She blinked, though she told herself it was against the smoke that rose from the still-smoldering remnants of her business and not because she was close to tears. “I understand. How long?”

  “We’ll have our part done in a week or two. Once your insurance company has our report, you’ll work with an adjuster to restore your business. Hard to estimate how long that will take.”

  She looked around and shook her head. “What do I do in the meantime?” She wasn’t really asking him, but herself.

  He shot her a sympathetic look, and she sensed he didn’t believe she would torch her own business to collect on insurance money. He’d be right. She would never, ever destroy what she’d worked hard to build, and she found a little solace that he did consider her innocent. “Take some time off,” he suggested. “We’ll do what we can as soon as we can.”

  She shook his hand. “Thank you.” Looking down at the soot she’d transferred from her hand to his, she added, “Sorry.”

  He shrugged. “Not to worry, Ms. Williams. It’s an occupational hazard.”

  A pair of arms wrapped around her from behind, and she jumped. Winnie. She’d recognize the scent of her perfume anywhere, even standing in this mess, and it was a lovely thing to smell right now. She turned and embraced her friend, no longer able to hold her tears in check, and they flowed down her cheeks. “It’s gone. It’s all gone.” She choked, sounding like one of those wounded heroines in a sappy romantic movie. The day was just getting better and better.

  Winnie kissed her cheek and then turned her toward the front door. At least it was still intact, so she could pretty well button up the place while the fire department did its investigation. “Not all gone,” Winnie countered. “Temporarily out of commission. Come on. Let’s get out of this furnace. It’s depressing.”

  “You think?” If it depressed Winnie, how did she think Molly felt?

  Her sarcasm didn’t even faze her best friend. “Absolutely. Come on.” Holding Molly’s arm, Winnie led her outside where the air was clear, though the lingering scent of fire wafted out behind them. She shivered, and tears welled in her eyes again. She longed for it to all be a nightmare that she would wake up from any minute.

  Using her sleeve to wipe away her tears, she stood a little taller. She refused to make a spectacle of herself out on the street. Darn it, she had her pride even if she didn’t have a shop. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

  Winnie, as usual, didn’t miss a beat. “I do. Come on, this way. Let’s have a little coffee while I explain your game plan.” She couldn’t imagine what Winnie had in mind, given that Molly had called her only an hour ago to relay the bad news.

  At the coffee shop half a block down—the same small shop that bought her baked goods every day to sell with their specialty beverages—she sank into one of the chairs on the outside patio. “I’m glad you have a plan because I’m completely lost.” Lost seemed like a very inadequate word for what she felt. It was just the best her brain could come up with at the moment.

  “Sit tight,” Winnie commanded her as she pushed open the shop’s door and disappeared inside. Less than five minutes later she returned with two lattes. One she set in front of Molly and one she held on to. “Okay. Now let’s talk about what we’re going to do.”

  Molly turned the warm cup between her hands. “We? This is my mess. You have a job to get back to.” They’d picked different paths after they finished culinary school. Molly had turned her love of baking into a successful bakery, while Winnie became the executive chef in one of the most successful restaurants in the city. So successful, she opened a second one last year. Both were doing fantastic.

  Winnie sat up straighter and smiled. “Well now, here’s the kicker. I’m on vacation for two glorious weeks.” She leaned back in her chair, turned her face to the sky, and spread her arms. “Two weeks.” She lowered her arms and looked at Molly once more. “So, this is what’s going down. You, me, and Angus are going on a walkabout.”

  She was taking a sip of the latte and almost spit it out. “A what?”

  “We’re heading south and doing some day hikes along the Umatilla and Columbia rivers. We’ll spend a night or two in cool places like Hood River and probably even Portland. It’ll be a blast.”

  “And I would want to do that why?” Winnie was way more adventurous than Molly and way more impulsive
too. Molly was too often conservative, and her friend was about the only one who could get her out of her comfort zone. Sometimes it was pretty sweet. Sometimes not so much. Like right now, when all she really felt like doing was going home, opening a bottle of wine, and polishing it off while she felt sorry for herself.

  “Because it will get your mind off all of this. By the time we get back, the fire department will have their report submitted, your insurance company can help you start rebuilding, and you’ll be a hundred times more relaxed.”

  “I’m not going to be a third wheel. Besides, I have to think about Loba.” Her valid objection was twofold. Trotting along behind Winnie and her honey would totally suck. She also didn’t want to stick her beautiful German shepherd in a kennel. Loba was sensitive and would pick up right away on the mood this fire had brought on. It wouldn’t be fair.

  Winnie waved her hand dismissively. “Trust me, you’ll be a welcome addition to this adventure. Angus is doing some hands-on research about the trails, tribal lands, and history of the area. I told him I’d tag along, and now you and Loba are going too. It’s a win-win for all of us.”

  “Research?” For some reason that was what jumped out at her.

  Winnie nodded. “He has a keen interest in the history of the Pacific Northwest and has been working on a book. He wants to hike around, make some notes, and take a few pictures. So, what do you think? It’ll be fun.”

  “I didn’t even know Angus was a writer.” If Winnie had told her before, she’d forgotten.

  “He’s a man of many talents. Now, come on. What do you say? Up for a little adventure?”