Free A Grave Tree by Jennifer Ellis Page A

to an abrupt stop. (Mark was going to try to use proper names for people, at least for Sylvain, who had just rescued Mark and now seemed so determined to rescue Abbey that the “bad man” title did not seem to fit as well as it had before, although for a rescuer, Sylvain did not seem overly concerned about Mark’s well-being, or the fact that he was bleeding.)
    “It’s no use,” Sylvain said. “They’re moving way too fast. We’re going to have to try something else.” He held a curled finger to his lips and lowered his gaze to the ground. Then he raised his eyes to Mark, his angular face hard and sharp. “We’re going to have to use projection. We need to go back to the Madrona.”
    Mark froze. He had appraised the Madrona out of the corner of his eye when they passed it a few minutes ago (checking to make sure the dogs were not lingering at its base waiting to leap out at them). It had seemed deserted, but there was something in the way Sylvain was looking at him now that he did not like.
    Sylvain cut inland in the direction of the Madrona, and the procession followed. Mark tried to reassure himself as he ran. Sylvain would not want him to do anything, even though technically he was the second-oldest person present and the only adult other than Sylvain. But nobody regarded him as an adult, and nobody depended on him to do anything.
    At the foot of the blessedly bereft-of-dogs Madrona, Sylvain turned to them. “Okay, here’s the deal. Mark is going to follow the path of the river with his mind. He can go faster that way. In order to project that far, he’s going to need our help. We’re going to have to stay here at the Madrona and concentrate on sending him energy.”
    “What?” Mark managed to eject from his mouth in a rather clipped yelp. “Why me?”
    “Because you’re the only one of us, as far as I know, who has the ability to do it. Projecting requires a keen sense of geography and a certain kind of mind that notes the details of place. I’m pretty sure you’ve studied and know the path of this river. I’m pretty sure Jake and Russell haven’t. Besides, you’ve already demonstrated that you’re capable of projecting based on the fact that your head was flying around my office last night. If we send you energy, we can help you go farther distances in a more sustained way. You might even be able to partially teleport, which would mean you could help them.”
    Mark opened his mouth to deny this, to deny something, anything, to make it so that he was not responsible for doing something, for doing this. But his brain came up blank, and he ended up standing there with his lips open wide and unspeaking.
    “We don’t have much time,” Sylvain continued when Mark said nothing. “I don’t know how to project myself, but I understand you need to allow yourself to go into a bit of a trance. Being close to the Madrona helps, as they serve as conduits for our connection to the world and the energy that allows us to perform witchcraft. The rest of us will gather by the tree and focus on helping you. You need to follow the course of the river as quickly as you can, checking both sides all the way down. If you find them, see if you can steer the boat or help in any way. If not, come back, and we’ll go to them.”
    Sylvain motioned Russell and Jake to the tree. Russell moved immediately and obediently. Jake hung back a little, but after shooting Mark a raised-eyebrow look as if to express his deep misgivings about trusting Mark with any task, he, too, went and stood by Sylvain.
    Mark stood dumbly, gawping at the tree and the three men who stood beside it. He didn’t know how to project. He had only done it last night by complete accident, although he supposed he had in fact done it again just an hour ago, when he found himself in his own room looking at the map of Coventry and Granton. But that had again been by complete accident. He couldn’t do this. He imagined Abbey and Caleb being carried farther