A Curse of Shadows

CHAPTER ONE

ISLA

I’m quite certain something has possessed me. That must be it, because I can’t think of any other reason why I just hiked a mountain…for fun. Not because someone was chasing me up the steep incline, with its plethora of switchbacks that are numbered with a baffling disregard for accuracy, but because I chose to.

Yet I can’t lie. The panoramic glory unfurling from the top of Multnomah Falls is nothing short of incredible. The cascade of water rushes over the edge with a ferocity that almost looks intriguing—another reason I believe someone’s taken control of me—and makes my heart soar.

Looking up, the sky is a bright azure without a cloud in sight, and a steady breeze cools my heated skin. My gaze wanders, following the expansive Columbia River before me, and I see the fishermen out on their boats with the small whitecaps around them, reminding me just how fierce the wind can get around here.

The last thought is enough to have me stepping back from the rail at the trail’s end and returning my attention to the water behind me. Going back up the steps, I cross over a few fallen trees and take a seat on a log. The creek that feeds the falls is calm, as if the deadly drop only fifty feet ahead isn’t anything to be worried about.

Minutes tick by as I watch the tranquil waters, a surprisingly welcome reprieve from the vibrant mayhem of the big city I’ve fallen in love with. Living in Portland, Oregon isn’t for everyone, but the chaos of the people, the mazes of traffic, the whimsical weather, and everything in between—they’ve always appealed to me. One thing I’ve never taken to that most do around here is all the opportunities for outdoor activities we’re surrounded by in our city. At least until today.

Waking up before dawn, I sat up in bed and an inexplicable yearning took over, encouraging me to escape the confines of my apartment. Even now that I’ve accomplished my task, I still don’t understand why I came here. A part of me hopes that this doesn’t happen again, but I also don’t hate that after twenty-five years of city living, I’ve finally hiked Multnomah Falls.

A smile graces my face as that same urge comes back, this time telling me it’s time to head back to my car. Maybe whatever demon possessing me has finally had enough—kidding. Mostly.

Portland has some weird happenings in it, and plenty of supernatural movies have been filmed here, but that’s nothing more than fiction.

It’s still early, the sun having just begun rising in the sky as I started my hike, which means I’m the only one heading down now. Plenty of others are making their way up, smiles on their faces and seemingly eager for the torment that the sharp ascent promises.

I shake my head as I’m practically forced to jog down the mountain. Never again will I see this trail. I’ll light some sage when I get home and everything will go back to normal.

There’s a twinge in my chest, one I’ve been ignoring for weeks now. My life hasn’t been normal for over a month. Not since my best friend was promoted at work and transferred to Seattle for her new role. She’s only a few hours’ drive away, and we both promised to visit, but that’s yet to happen.

While I love my city life, even being surrounded by a couple million people doesn’t take away the pain of living without one’s soul sister.

For as long as I can remember, Elodee has been by my side. We both grew up in the foster system, and for a lot of those years, our only saving grace was having each other. Until she moved, we’d never spent more than a few nights apart.

To say living alone and doing everything myself this last month has been an adjustment would be an understatement.

I shake off the negativity. I really am happy for her. So much so that I’ve been looking at making my own job change—maybe something different from the banking job I’ve had for the last few years—so we can live in Seattle together, even if that feels a little too codependent. I know Elodee would love to have me there, but I also know that I should be okay on my own. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself whenever I fail to apply for new jobs that could be perfect for me.

Thirty minutes later, I walk under the freeway to get to the parking lot that’s located right between the north and south lanes of the interstate. Not sure who had that bright idea, but it doesn’t much matter. It’s time to get home.

Getting to my car, I unlock the driver’s door of my white two-door Honda, or Susie, as I like to call her. She was the first big purchase I made as an adult and while she’s a bit rusty, I love her all the same. Plus, it’s not like I actually drive much. I probably spend more on paying for my parking spot at the apartment complex than she’s worth, but I don’t care.

Now to navigate my way out of this place. I drive toward the interstate, patting the dashboard. “All right, Susie. I know you don’t like to go fast, but let’s hurry and get home, okay?”

I swear the engine groans in response, but that doesn’t stop me from pressing my foot on the accelerator so that I’m not a total hindrance while merging with the traffic.

“Oh, you’ve got to be shitting me.” Now, it’s my turn to groan. I don’t know how I read the signs wrong, but I suddenly find myself going east on the interstate when I should be heading west.

A trucker speeds past me, honking and making me jump in my seat. “Yeah, dude. I know she’s slow, but she’s a city car.”

I’ve never been out this far on the freeway by myself. Even as an adult, I don’t like to get lost. My knuckles turn white from gripping the steering wheel so tightly, and my breathing feels too rapid as I try to pay better attention to the exits. I need to find one that will allow me to turn around, but I’m so freaked out that I miss the first couple.

Taking some deep breaths, I take the next offramp, called ‘Bridge of the Gods.’

That makes me snort. “So much for thinking there’s nothing supernatural out here.”

One turn after another, and… “No, no, no. What is wrong with me?”

I’m somehow in a line for a tollbooth to go over that damn bridge instead of getting back on the interstate. This is why I never leave the city. One-way streets and roundabouts are less stressful than this crap.

I get to the window, doing my best not to cry as she says, “Scan your card.”

“I’m really sorry,” I reply with a sweet smile. “I made a wrong turn and?—”