I smile for a moment. “If you’re sharing.”
“I am.” He leads me over to a leather beige couch and sits me down on the cushions. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really.” I don’t know what I would say. It was too sudden. I haven’t even really processed it yet.
“Do you want to talk about why you were upset this afternoon?”
I roll my eyes. “No. But…my dad saw my passport and freaked out. He pretty much forbids me to go anywhere.”
Griffin’s lips form a line.
I take a deep breath and lean back, letting the cushions fully support me. “It’s not just that…” I stop myself. What am I doing? Why do I always feel the need to dump all over Griffin? That’s not fair.
“What’s going on?”
“How’s school?”
He shakes his head. “School is school. I’ll be done in December. What’s going on?”
“Besides my grandfather dying for no reason and my dad acting crazy, per usual?”
“Yeah.”
I watch him for a bit. “If I killed someone would you still want to go out with me?”
“You didn’t kill your grandfather.”
His words stick in my brain. I wasn’t even thinking about that. But now I am.
“Jade…you didn’t give him a heart attack. You know that, right?”
My breath catches on something in my chest. Something guilt-shaped, maybe. “What if I did?” My voice comes out as a whisper. This would be a bad time for Aric to get his crazy hearing ability back. I sit up a little and stretch my senses out around me. I feel Griffin’s neon energy and not much else, but I still feel like Aric is listening in through the soil or something.
“What’s wrong?” Alarm is stamped all over Griffin’s face.
“Nothing.” My throat feels dry. Very dry. All of a sudden. He’s so normal.
“Jade—”
“I just feel like I’ve done something terrible.” I move to stand, and he pushes me back down.
“What is it?”
“I’m always whining.”
“You don’t whine.”
I peer at him out of the corners of my eyes. “You asked me for coffee, and I dump all that crap on you about Logan and Fallon.” I almost choke on her name. She’s dead now. She’s dead because of me. I might as well have stabbed her in the heart.
“Jade—”
“And now I come over here with all these issues again. This isn’t what people do when they’re dating. You’re so…I don’t know, together, and I’m a mess, and I’ve always been a mess.”
“So we balance each other out.” He scoots closer to me. “Listen, I don’t care if things with us are not traditional. I’ve had a few traditional relationships with women who have been outstandingly common. And things ended.” He laces his fingers through mine. “I know you’re not like other people. If you need to rant or be a mess or confess that you’ve killed someone, then do it. I know what I’m getting into. Trust me.”
“Because you know I’m crazy? My diagnosis was wrong. I don’t have any kind of psychosis.” Unfortunately. How screwed up is my life that I actually wish I was schizophrenic?
His brows draw together. “Okay. That’s not what I meant. I just meant that I know you’re strange. And that’s okay. I had a great childhood. I’m pretty stable. I can handle it. You know, because I don’t really have any issues.”
That makes me laugh, and the laughter relaxes me some.
“Talk to me. Let me carry some of that weight for you.”
My brain and instincts are at a near war with each other. Logically, I know I need to talk to someone. I have no friends. Probably my fault, but my upbringing didn’t help. It was certainly hard to make connections with any of the girls at the prep school. We had nothing in common outside of trying to get into trouble. And I know hanging out with the crazy rich girl earned them status points, for some reason.
Instinctively, I want to run and dive into a hole like I always do. Sit in the dark and do nothing. Go to bed super early.
“What do you mean your diagnosis was wrong?”
He’s probably just asking to get me talking, since I’ve fallen silent, but I’ll take the bait, since he offered and all.
“I found a family tree.”
“That’s cool.”
“Yeah, but…you know how my grandfather used to always say that this family was cursed? Or more that I was cursed?”
He nods and waits for me to continue.
“That’s why I want to go to Scotland. There’s a lake there.” Hidden from the eyes of mortals. “I want to see it. One of my relatives wrote some stuff about it, and there’s a lot of mystery around it.”
“The frozen lake?”
“You’ve heard of it?”
“Yeah, but I probably don’t know too much more than you do.”
“What do you know?”
He narrows his eyes as he thinks. “It’s doesn’t have a name. It’s in the middle of a forest. One of the stories your grandfather told me about it was about a woman who haunts the area. No one knows what she looks like, because no one’s seen her and lived. Allegedly.”
That’s a bit more than I know. I’ve never heard that story, but that isn’t surprising, given my limited freedom and all.
“This is going to make me sound crazy, but I think there is a curse. And I want to figure it out. The family tree had all these names crossed out. All the women who have died over the years. I mean, I don’t know if I believe it’s an actual curse, but there’s something…” And I don’t think Aric is being entirely forthcoming about it.
“I’ll help you.”
“You’re busy.”
“I’m not that busy. I mostly just have papers to write. I need to take regular breaks from that anyway.”
I should let him help. He’s offering, and I need it. But if I let him in, I’ll have to tell him what I did eventually. I can feel the pressure building behind my ribs. If I don’t tell him willingly, it’s just going to burst out on its own.
“So, there’s a kind of curse in the family,” he says, prodding me to continue. “A nameless lake that was referenced by a relative. What else?”
I lower my voice. Even if Aric can’t hear me, he can still sense me. For some reason, I’m afraid he’ll know if I talk about him. “What do you know about Merlin?”
“Other than the sorcerer stuff?”
I nod.
“Hmm.” He props his elbows up on his knees. “I don’t know. Your grandfather loved talking about him, I know that, but your grandmother would always leave the room. I don’t know if you noticed.”
I shake my head.
“I was helping her out in the kitchen one afternoon, and she said that she really wished her husband wouldn’t talk about that man. When I asked her why, she said that those stories were fake, and it was unhealthy entertainment.” He pauses and frowns. “Then she said that Alara thought he was real, and it killed her. I’ll never forget that. Her whole demeanor just changed.” He drops his eyes to the fluffy carpet at his feet. “Now that I think about it, I think those stories really hurt her.”
I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Alara was her daughter. Surely she cared about her. “What would you say if I told you I thought he was real?”
He shifts his eyes to my face and says nothing.
“You think I’m crazy.”
“Why do you think he’s real?”
“I was just asking.”
He continues to stare at me, his expression almost unreadable. It’s almost as if he’s waiting for me to crack a smile and declare I’m joking. But I don’t. Because I’m not. Because it’s so far from being funny.
“I’ll help you figure that out, too,” he says. Then he stands, takes my hand, and pulls me to the kitchen.
23
The Sword is Cursed
My grandfather’s body lies in an ivory coffin in the sunroom. Because getting as much light on the body as possi
ble is such a good idea.
Griffin stands against the far wall with my brothers, being unnaturally reserved. He hasn’t spoken much since last night. He tried to keep the conversation light while we ate. And he tried to keep his demeanor calm while we watched a couple of movies afterward. But he kept giving me looks of unsettled confusion. Even now. He keeps peeking at me from across the room.
Way to go, Jade. I just had to go and complicate his life with my crap. He can’t handle it. I retreat to the kitchen, because no one is in there, and lean against the center island. I bury my face in my hands and take slow, deep breaths.
At his request, I texted Griffin a picture of the family tree this morning so he could start dissecting it. I don’t know how it’s going to help him. Or me. I wish I had just kept my mouth shut and worked on figuring this crap out myself. I wish I knew where to start. I wish a lot of things right now.
“Are you okay?”
I look up at the sound of Kaius’s voice. “Are you?”
He shakes his head, his features drawn tight.
“What did you guys do last night?”
He leans against the opposite side of the counter. “Just talking, mostly. We haven’t really talked much since getting back from Europe.”
“I didn’t figure you had.”
He sighs. “You remember when everything used to be…I don’t know…simple?”
A small smile touches my face. “Barely. I remember how much I used to love to come here and listen to all of his stories.”
Kaius’s face relaxes some. “Yeah. Good old legends. Bold knights. Powerful sorcerers. Fetching damsels.”
I straighten some. “Kaius? Do you remember much about Merlin?”
He nods. “Yeah. Merlin’s my favorite. That and the history of Excalibur.”
“I don’t remember it very well.”
He grins. “It’s a classic. I love how he always started that tale.” He stands to his full height and paints some rolling hills in the air with his hands. “Merlin was an ageless and mysterious wonder. Some say he came from the hills. Some say he came from the deep south. Some say, even, that he came from heaven itself.”
I laugh a little at his dramatic tone.
Our grandmother walks into the kitchen with an empty glass pitcher. She gives us both a hard look before setting the pitcher in the sink and filling it with water. “Why are you two in here talking about that old crap again?”
Kaius is wholly unbothered by her coldness. “We have to carry on the legend so it won’t die.”
“It should die,” she says, her tone bitter as she retrieves a fresh pitcher of iced tea from the fridge. She removes the plastic wrap from the opening. “You should both be ashamed.” Her eyes cut briefly to my face. “And you should know better.” She tosses the plastic in the trash and rejoins the crowd of people in the living room.
“Regardless of his origins,” Kaius continues in her absence, in the same dramatic air as before, “Merlin was a man of many gifts and strength and charity. As you know, the old kingdom of the north mountains was in turmoil. Old Uther Pendragon had fallen ill and died, leaving behind two daughters and a young boy of twelve. The people needed a new leader they could rally behind, but they found Arthur too young and wild for the responsibility. Morgan, the middle child, was already betrothed to a prince from the southern mountains. His oldest daughter, Anna, was married to a Danish king across the North Sea.
“Merlin, using his many gifts, searched long and far and stumbled across a most curious sight while strolling through the forest, deep in thought. You see, it was a sword, stuck in a stone.”
I have to laugh again. He laughs with me and takes a moment to compose himself before resuming.
“He tried to remove the sword, but it wouldn’t budge. While he pulled and grunted and broke into a heavy sweat, a couple of hunters crossed his path. They watched him for a while and laughed, and then upon discovering that he was a stranger in this land, they told him the story of how the sword came to be in the stone.
“They told him that a sorceress lived in the woods once, and that before the Pendragons were given the throne, another family sat there, a family with impure hearts and malignant intentions. Her own origins were as unknown as Merlin’s, but it is said she kept to herself. In any case, this family found the woman and had her forge them a powerful weapon that would allow them to rule over the kingdom for many centuries to come. But the woman didn’t trust the men. She made them the sword, for they had threatened to have her head severed from her body if she refused, but the sword was cursed. A madness fell over the family, and they all shortly died of strange and sudden diseases and ailments.
“In a fruitless effort to protect the dying king, one of his brave stewards took the sword to the woods and offered it back to the sorceress in exchange for their lives. The sorceress accepted the sword and plunged it deep into a nearby stone.
“The noble gesture was too late. The king died that night, and Canon Pendragon took the throne at the vote of the people. He was humble, he had a deep heart, and they knew he would serve the kingdom well.
“The story went on to say that if the kingdom should ever find itself in upheaval again, that whoever was able to pull the sword from the stone would break the curse upon the blade and be crowned king of the land.
“Merlin was wise and knew that young Prince Arthur, with the right mentor, would be a great king to his people. So, he found the youth, brought him to the sword, and when he removed it, he was crowned king of the northern mountains. But the story, as they say, doesn’t end here.
“After many years of faithful guidance and service to the family, during which Merlin’s relationship to Arthur grew from mentor to very good friend, and during which Arthur aged considerably and Merlin stayed the same, Merlin once again found himself in the presence of that old stone. A beautiful woman sat upon it, singing a hauntingly beautiful song. It is said that Merlin was taken with her at once.
“Some say the woman was a figment. Some say this was a prophetic vision he had. Some called her the spirit of the nearby lake, a protector of the region. Whatever the origins, she came only to warn him.
“She told him the curse remained upon the blade. That it could never be broken. Everyone was well now, but it was a ticking time bomb, in a sense, and a very dangerous weapon. Though it would give the wielder great power, there is a balance, and to protect the family from the terrible price to be paid, it would need to be returned to the witch who had forged it.
“What the power was exactly was something that couldn’t be agreed upon. There are tales that say it would give the bearer strength over the gods. There are tales that say it’s all superstition. Unfortunately for the Pendragons, Merlin leaned towards superstition and considered the sword harmless.
“After tragedy befell the family, Merlin ran into the forest, desperate and wrought with guilt. He found the woman sitting upon the stone again, and asked her how the sword could be returned to the sorceress. Instructions were given to discard of it in the nearest deep body of water, that her spirit would claim it from there.
“The task was given to Loholt, favored knight and heir to the northern throne. He did so at once, delaying not even a moment, and his actions restored peace and order to the land and family, under a new name, and Merlin remained a faithful and much-loved ally by the throne’s side for many generations to follow.
“Legend says that the family always loved Merlin like he was of their own blood. But eventually, they parted ways, tearfully, so that Merlin could venture out and bring peace and balance to another family. This one no longer needed him, and it was selfish of them to keep him.”
I slow clap the end of the story, and Kaius laughs again. “So, the sword is at the bottom of the sea?”
Kaius rubs at the light stubble along his chin. “Not necessarily. Granddad always said that it could have been any body of water. The deep part of a river. A lake. A loch. Whatever was nearby.”
Our grandmother co
mes back into the kitchen, rolls her eyes, and opens the refrigerator. She pulls out two wrapped trays, one with sliced cucumbers and cheese that she shoves into my arms, and one with tiny tomato sandwiches that she gives to Kaius.
“Make yourselves useful.” She grabs a tray filled with fruit and mumbles to herself about us being ingrates as she leaves.
Kaius lifts his tray as if giving a toast, and grins. “I guess we’re waiters now.”
24
A Bit of Normal
I pace around the penthouse, Alara’s journal in my hand. Aric’s energy stirs around me, hot and overpowering. It follows my pacing like a personal storm cloud above my head.
“Aric?”
He still doesn’t answer. Part of me wonders if he’s just trying to get me down there, but I still don’t want to see him.
He knows that his version of events doesn’t quite align with my family’s. According to that story, Merlin was released back into the wild and probably still roams Britain to this day. According to Aric, he was respected for a time and then, in their greed, they locked him up. It’s interesting though how similar they are up until that point. Grandpa always spoke highly of him, as Kaius’s retelling of the story reminded me. It raises a question though. Who changed the real story? And why?
The fact that I heard his voice scared my parents so much and scares my grandmother still. The only person who wasn’t afraid was my grandfather. While the rest of them treated the so-called madness as some kind of certificate of death, Grandpa always looked at it as something that could be healed and removed.
According to Alara, their great-aunt was murdered to keep the secret safe. Which leads me to believe that maybe it was great-grandfather Holton who changed the tale. Because if he killed his sister to keep her away from Aric, then he must have known the real story. Of course, I don’t know if that’s true, but why else would he have killed her?
If he was afraid of retaliation—and why wouldn’t he be?—I can easily see how that would drive him to murder. Aric is very real. Meaning he was very much imprisoned. Meaning…he would possibly be very angry about that. A horrible thought slides into my head.
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