by Jana Oliver
After considering that solemn warning, Joshua reluctantly followed his friend towards the porch, avoiding the chicken droppings that lurked in the grass. Just in front of the door was a line of red grainy powder.
‘What’s that for?’ he asked, pointing.
‘It’s brick dust. It’s used as a ward to keep the folks inside the house safe. If you’ve got bad intentions, you can’t cross it.’
OK. ‘Just how old is this place anyway?’
‘It was built right after the Civil War,’ Reena replied. ‘Not much has changed since then, except for indoor plumbing.’
Reena paused on the porch to pet the dog. Then she took a deep breath and moved to the door, but she didn’t open it and barge in even though she was family. Instead she knocked and waited. It was that respect thing she’d talked about, and Joshua took note of it.
‘That you, Reena B?’ an aged voice called out.
‘It is. I brought Joshua Quinn with me.’
‘I know. Carl told me.’
Apparently she means the dog.
He followed Reena inside the cabin, and the moment he crossed the threshold he felt something slide over his skin, as if it were scanning him. His eyes must have widened and Reena nodded in understanding.
‘Told you,’ his companion said.
The small space was neat, everything in its place, not that there was much in the way of possessions. The floor was hand-hewn wood and it creaked as he took each step. The exposed rafters were put to good use – herbs hung from them in bundles, as well as some old baskets. A small kitchen held a table and a few chairs and down a short hall was a bedroom. A worktable sat along one wall, covered in roots and herbs. On it a mortar and pestle rested near an open book, and above the table was a portrait of Jesus at Gethsemane, flanked by pictures of John F. Kennedy and Martin Luther King, Jr.
Mrs Lily Foster occupied a rocking chair near the big window that overlooked the backyard. On top of the chairback was a tabby cat that nimbly rebalanced itself each time the rocker moved. It had big green eyes and a crooked tail, as if it’d been hit by a car sometime during its nine lives.
‘Come hug me, girl. It’s been too long,’ the old woman said, opening her arms.
‘We just saw each other last night,’ Reena replied.
‘At my age, that’s a long time.’
As they embraced, Joshua could feel the love between them. It’d been like that with his grandmother until she’d passed away a couple years earlier. She’d always been a counterbalance to the underlying discord in the Quinn household. Once she was gone, it’d only got worse between his parents.
‘Come forward, boy,’ Lily said, waving. ‘Don’t be frightened. I know yer family’s story, and their sins. They ain’t yers.’
He moved nearer to her, but not as close as Reena. ‘I . . .’ he began, but didn’t know the right words. ‘Good day, ma’am.’
She grinned, revealing worn teeth. ‘Polite, that’s good. Need more of that in this world.’
This wasn’t getting them anywhere. Surely this woman knew why they were here.
‘Patience,’ Reena whispered, as if she’d read his mind. She pulled a kitchen chair closer to her eldest relative while Joshua chose the floor. It was a bit cooler there as it seemed Lily wasn’t into air conditioning, and the ceiling fan only stirred the heat around like a big spoon in a pot of boiling stew.
‘Briar needs your help, Gran.’
The old woman closed her eyes and kept rocking back and forth like she’d not heard her great-granddaughter. When the cat grew tired of the movement, it jumped off and wound its way to Reena, brushing against her jeans. Then it moved to Joshua. Peering up at him, it placed its front paws on his leg in a frank bid for attention. As sweat ran down his back, he scratched the soft head and the cat began to purr.
‘Hobbes likes ya,’ Lily said, her eyes open now. ‘That makes sense, though. Yer much like a cat, always watchin’, real quiet and thoughtful.’
‘Don’t have much to say,’ he replied.
‘But what ya do say is worthwhile. It means ya have good sense.’
He’d never thought of himself like that. He’d just thought he was shy.
‘Reena tell ya what happened last night?’ Lily asked.
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘I did some scryin’ this mornin’,’ she said.
Joshua gave Reena a confused look, unsure of what the old lady meant.
‘My gran uses a mirror so she can divine things.’
‘Sort of like looking in a crystal ball?’ he asked.
‘Yeah, just like that.’
Lily kept rocking. ‘That curse took her deep inside herself, in some sort of dream. It’s up to her to find a way back.’
‘Is there some way we can . . . go help her out?’ Joshua asked.
Lily’s piercing eyes zeroed in on him. ‘What happens if that dream is more like a nightmare, and it tried to kill ya?’
Did he care? ‘Doesn’t matter. This is my fault.’
‘No, it’s not. Ya did what was right all those years back at the river. This curse isn’t on yer head, boy.’
‘You’re wrong – it is. At least I feel it is,’ Joshua said, his voice rising.
One of the woman’s silver eyebrows crept upward, but she didn’t chastise him for his mouthiness. ‘There are only a few ways for ya to get into a curse dream and none of them are easy. Ya’d have to borrow power to do it, and that’s always dangerous.’
‘Borrow power?’ Joshua asked. Next to him, Reena stiffened.
Lily didn’t reply, but rocked a bit faster now, her eyes on her great-granddaughter now. ‘If ya did get inside, who’s to say that if Briar died in there that curse wouldn’t go right back where it came from?’
Josh grew cold, despite the stifling heat. ‘Back to me, you mean? Can it do that?’
‘Maybe. Or the dream could kill ya outright.’ She shook her head sadly. ‘This conjure’s out of control. It’s taken strength from both sides of this wrong, and it’s doin’ what it wishes now. I’ve never seen nothin’ like it before.’
Which was really bad news as this lady was ancient.
Reena took a very deep breath and then slowly let it out. ‘We should be going,’ she said, rising from the chair. ‘I’ll come by and see you tomorrow and bring you some of Mom’s homemade rolls.’ She dropped a kiss on the old woman’s cheek.
‘I’ll be lookin’ forward to it,’ Lily said, rocking away. ‘In a couple weeks we’ll do that trick ya’ve been workin’ on. Ya know, the one at the crossroads. Ya should be ready by then.’
Reena hesitated, as if sorting through some hidden subtext. Then she nodded, her eyes moving towards the table. ‘Can I borrow your spell book tonight? I need to read up on it.’
‘Surely. Just bring it back tomorrow.’
After Reena had taken the thick book, Lily called out to them. ‘Don’t y’all do anythin’ ya’d regret, ya hear?’
‘Yes, Gran,’ Reena replied, but her voice held more resolve now, as if she’d come to some momentous decision.
Once they were in the yard, Joshua felt like punching something. Mike maybe. Yeah, that would make him feel a lot better, for about three seconds. Even after talking to Mrs Foster they were no closer to helping Briar escape the curse.
‘That was a total waste of time,’ he said.
Reena slowly drew the spell book out of a paper bag. Now that he saw it up close, it seemed rather ordinary. She leafed through to a page near the middle, and smiled down at the spidery handwriting skittering across the paper.
‘Gran isn’t plain sometimes – it’s just her way. I figured out what she was hinting at when she talked about borrowing power. That’s the next conjure I’m studying. It’s a crossroads spell.’
‘Whatever,’ Joshua said, not really listening.
Keeping her back to the house, Reena used her free hand to pull a purple ribbon from under her shirt. Attached to it were two old-fashioned skeleton keys. Before he c
ould ask why she was wearing them, a tiny spark of magic danced from the book to the keys and back.
‘Did that just . . . ?’ he began, eyes blinking.
Reena nodded. She looked over her shoulder at the cabin and then back again. ‘These are crossroads keys and I can tap into the power with these. That power might get me inside Briar’s dream.’
Joshua gaped. ‘Hey, that’s the huntsman charm from Briar’s bracelet,’ he said, pointing. ‘What are you doing with it?’
‘I took it this morning when her folks were downstairs. I needed a connection to Briar, one that also links to you since you’re where the curse started. This is it.’
‘You said you didn’t know about the curse until last night,’ he said, suddenly suspicious, ‘but you were the one who found the bracelet on the internet and said I should buy it for Briar’s birthday. You set this up all along.’
‘No,’ she said, glaring over at him. ‘I didn’t. I thought the bracelet was a good way for you guys to get closer, maybe . . . end this bullshit between your families. I had no idea I’d be using it to try to save Briar’s life.’
‘Oh . . .’
‘I’ve never tried the trick, but I know which spirit to call up now. Gran had the book on the worktable opened to the exact page I need.’
‘So why is she messing with us? Why doesn’t she do it herself?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe she can’t for some reason.’ Reena replaced the skeleton keys down her shirt. ‘It might not work, but I have to try.’
He gnawed on that for a time. ‘What happens if it goes wrong, the spell I mean?’
‘Nothing good,’ she said, her expression sobering. ‘I might end up asleep like Briar . . . or dead. Same for anyone around me when it goes down. Keep that in mind, if you’re going to join me in this.’
Joshua took a deep breath, but there was never any doubt as to his answer.
‘Just tell me when and where.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Briar and Ruric walked back to the stable in silence, though around them many of the villagers spoke in hushed voices. One man said the prisoner had it coming because he’d tried to harm the princess.
‘Don’t be a fool,’ a grizzled woman barked. ‘He was here to break the curse. I saw it in my dreams.’
‘Nightmares, more likely,’ the man retorted. ‘The princess will never be free unless—’
‘Hush! You know what happens to traitors,’ an older woman warned. ‘Be careful of that tongue of yours.’
Silence fell after that. Given what Briar had seen in the field, they were right to be afraid.
How did the regent gain so much power? What was that magic of hers?
There were no answers, not yet at least, so Briar forced herself to examine the little details she’d missed on the hurried journey to the field. Maybe that would give her some idea of how to return home. At the very least, it would help block out the graphic images of the dying man.
The Village of the Damned, as she’d begun to think of it, had houses and shops jammed together so tightly it was impossible to see daylight between them.
As if he knew what she was thinking, Ruric pulled her out of the flow of the foot traffic. ‘Note the houses here,’ he said as they stopped in front of one structure. This house was half wood, half brass, as if the builders couldn’t quite make up their mind which they preferred.
‘Watch closely,’ Ruric murmured.
Briar wasn’t sure what she was supposed to be watching, but she did as he asked, feeling like an idiot. Who stood around and stared at houses for fun?
As she waited, her eye caught on a small piece of the metal. It rippled, then cloned itself, layering over the neighbouring wood as if it were a scale on a dragon’s wing.
Whoa. ‘Why does it do that?’ she said, astounded.
‘It is the regent’s magic,’ he said quietly. ‘She seeks to make everything metal. She loves it more than she does flesh or wood or stone.’
Now that’s creepy.
‘It is like her warriors, the ones you saw in the field. At one time they were men, now they are covered in metal.’
Ohmigod. She’d just thought they were some sort of robots.
As they moved on, Briar peered inside one structure and spied the man she’d seen earlier, selling a loaf of bread to a thick-waisted woman. Two grubby children sat at her feet. Briar winced when she saw one of them had a band of brass round its throat. It was crying, tugging on it as if it hurt. Maybe it did.
Why would anyone put that on their child?
Ruric cleared his throat nervously. ‘How are you faring, cousin?’
She realized he wasn’t just being polite: there was deep concern behind his words.
‘I’m . . . scared,’ she admitted. ‘I’ve never seen someone die before.’
He took her hand and squeezed it gently. It was a kind gesture.
‘Surely there have been deaths among your family or friends,’ he said. ‘It is the way of things.’
‘In my village you die when you’re really old, unless you get really sick, which doesn’t happen very often.’
He didn’t reply, a slight frown creasing his forehead now.
Deep down, the longer she was here, the more Briar kept thinking about the car dream. How things kept happening to her until she took control. Was that the lesson she was supposed to carry into this dream? If she did take control, could she beat the curse and go home to her parents, her cat and the real world?
No clue.
Her stomach took that very moment to rumble, loudly.
‘When did you last eat?’ her companion asked.
‘A long time ago,’ she said. At a party by the lake where the guy of my dreams broke my heart.
‘Then I shall share my food and, in gratitude, you will help me clean the stable. It’s honest work, or so my father always claimed. He sent me to work in the stables when I was eight. He said it would keep me from frivolous behaviour.’
‘Did it work?’
A lopsided smile lit his face. ‘No, it did not.’
I bet you’re a player. The way the girls fawned all over him, that was a given.
Since he was talking about his family . . . ‘What does your father do?’
‘He is . . . sort of a reeve, the man in charge of it all. And your father?’
Her dad sold pharmaceuticals so she worked on a term Ruric would understand. ‘He’s an apothecary.’
‘An honourable profession.’
By the time they reached the stable there were two men waiting for them, one who wanted to collect his horse, and the other who wanted to buy one. Ruric took care of the first customer and then told the second he had nothing to sell.
‘You must. The prisoner had a mount and he has no use for it now,’ the man replied gruffly. He was stocky with a burgeoning stomach. His clothes were fairly nice, which suggested to Briar that he had a steady income. Some official maybe.
‘The mare is not for sale,’ Ruric replied evenly.
‘Does Quinton know you’re not handling business like you should?’
Uh-oh.
The look in Ruric’s eyes promised trouble if this man kept pushing. ‘Quinton is quite pleased with my services. I repeat, there is no horse for sale. Should there be one, I shall send word to you. Now good day, sir.’
The man’s attention shifted to her. ‘This is your cousin I hear tell?’
His tone was caustic – apparently he wasn’t used to having someone tell him no. She resisted the urge to check that her hair wasn’t showing.
‘Yes, this is my cousin Briar,’ Ruric replied.
‘It would be a shame if something happened to you. What would become of her?’
‘Then I shall have to be very cautious.’
The man huffed, then strode away, muttering under his breath.
When Ruric entered the stable, he headed directly for the mare. He patted her flank fondly as if to reassure himself she was OK.
‘I thought y
ou planned to sell her,’ Briar said.
He half shrugged. ‘I’m becoming increasingly fond of her. In fact, I shall keep her. Hopefully her new master will have better sense than the old one, though I doubt it, given what I’ve just done.’ At her puzzled expression, he explained. ‘That was the village reeve. He answers directly to the regent.’
‘Oh . . . and he’s not happy with you.’
‘No. He’s not an evil sort, but he never questions his orders. That makes him as much a threat as his mistress, for he has no conscience.’ Ruric patted the horse again, then moved away. ‘Come, let us eat.’
‘I have to wash my hands. Seriously.’
He gave her a confused expression and then pointed to a wooden bucket. She peered into it and was pleased to find it wasn’t yucky or anything. She wet first one hand, then the other. It took some work rubbing them together, but finally they looked cleaner, though her nails were a complete disaster. It was the best she could hope for.
‘Are you fit to dine now, my lady?’ Ruric said, his eyes dancing with mirth.
Briar bit back a snarky reply. ‘Yes, I am, my lord,’ she said, executing a rather clumsy curtsy.
Ruric led her round to the back of the stable where there was a small grassy patch under a tree. There he laid out their meal on the thick grass: yellow cheese, two hunks of dark bread and a liquid he poured into a heavy metal cup. He handed the cup over to her.
‘What is that?’ she asked, giving the contents a sniff.
‘Mead. It is particularly fine.’
She wrinkled her nose, worried about the taste.
‘If you wish, perhaps I can ask a dairy maid to draw you some fresh milk from one of the cows.’
Briar almost agreed, then remembered that their milk wasn’t pasteurized. Just how many germs could be in the stuff? Squillions. All of them designed to make her very, very sick. There was no guarantee she had any immunity to the illnesses this village harboured, and there had to be a lot of them.
‘No, I’ll just have a little of this.’
Briar took a test snip and was surprised to find it was sweet and quite tasty. Thirsty, she took a good half of it down before returning the cup to Ruric. Then she attacked her portion of the bread and cheese. By the time those were gone – along with more mead – she was feeling much better.