Lichgates (Grimoire Saga #1)

Chapter 1: Kara

Kara Magari stared at an unpainted gazebo that seemed to have been dropped in the middle of the forest, rather than built. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. A breeze ruffled the forest canopy and toyed with the long blond hair framing her face. The rush of leaves clapping against each other rung through her ears like applause. A few half-rotten leaves kicked up in the wind and shuffled across her boots. The trees swayed, casting dapples of light across her body as hints of sunlight penetrated their thick branches.

The pack hanging from her shoulders weighed an ounce or two heavier with each passing second of silence. She ached to sit down after her long day of hiking, but a shiver of uncertainty kept her feet rooted to the ground.

Moments earlier, she'd been hiking an unkempt trail in the Rocky Mountains-one she'd never seen in her years of hiking the same beaten paths of her favorite mountain range. But the trail ended at a simple gazebo made from unpainted wood. Low-hanging branches hid half of its paneled roof, and a tree trunk on either side blocked the way around. Waist-high wooden railings surrounded most of the structure, but left a break in the fencing just wide enough to walk through. A path stretched from this opening across the gazebo to the other side, where yet another gap in the rails would let her through to the blinding daylight. Benches lined the miniature lane through the shelter.

The landscape beyond was blurred and bright: a stark contrast to the heavy green glow of the forest, where only freckled rays of sunlight could break through the leaves. She narrowed her eyes as she got closer to the gazebo but couldn't distinguish anything through the sun's sharp glare.

A plank of wood framed with odd carvings had been nailed to the space above the entrance, and she squinted in an effort to read the dull cuts and make out the word:

Lichgate.

"Who would build a gazebo in the middle of a public forest?" she asked the empty woods around her. Considering its octagonal design

and the patterns etched along the railings, it didn't look like any woodland shelter she'd ever seen the government build. It also didn't have any kind of dedication plaque on it besides the obscure word she didn't recognize. Lichgate certainly didn't sound like someone's name.

The leaves clapped again in answer, as if she'd asked a good question. She shook her head. If she could pretend to have conversations with the forest, she needed to get out more and actually spend time with people.

With the hope of a few moments' rest, she stepped up onto the wooden aisle. As soon as she set foot inside, her stomach lurched. Her cheeks flushed, and she covered her mouth to suppress bile. A blue light flared out of the corner of her eye. It had come from the edge of the lichgate, but as she leaned over to inspect the space by her head, she couldn't find anything reflective or even blue. Another shock ripped through her gut as her head passed the threshold. She shuddered and popped back inside the structure.

Kara frowned and hunched her shoulders. A hint of worry chewed on her nerves. She debated leaving, but it wasn't as if the gazebo could make her sick to her stomach. The structure itself was nothing more than wood and nails, though the finish did seem darker now that she stood inside. Whereas the wood had seemed pale and unfinished as she'd approached it, a dark stain riddled with wear covered the structure's boards now that she stood in its aisle. She bit her lip. It was almost like stepping into a different gazebo entirely. Maybe whatever was toying with her stomach did a number on her brain, too.

She shook her head in frustration, tossed her pack on one bench, and lounged on the other until her stomach settled. Maybe she should have checked the sell-by date on the chicken salad she'd eaten at the visitor center.

Kara closed her eyes and listened to the wind rustling through the leaves, her body relishing the summer air as it coursed along her neck. She breathed deeply again, and her gut calmed. Her foot brushed against the knife she'd strapped to her ankle earlier, and her shoulders finally relaxed. She could handle herself.