by A. W. Exley
Dawn glanced to Elijah, picking cornflowers. Poor lad, how could she plot the removal of his mother without giving him a say in her downfall?
“We never know what we can achieve if we don’t try.” She might fail, or she might bring peace back to this troubled family, but for the first time in her life, she had a larger purpose.
“You should never have come here. It’s too dangerous.” Lettie shook her head.
Danger was a relative concept. Dawn could have expired climbing the stairs in Whetstone. The threat of death had hung over her all her life and somewhere lost sting. “Life is fraught, Lettie. None of us know what dangers lurk around the next corner. We simply live our lives the best we can.”
“No, you don’t understand. You should have stayed hidden where they couldn’t find you. Here, the garden will reveal what you truly are.” Lettie wrung her hands as though she tried to remove something from her skin.
“What do you mean? Who will find me?” Dawn wanted to dismiss the woman’s ravings, but a familiar cold dread stroked between her shoulder blades.
Lettie turned back to the oak. She huddled against its rough trunk. “The Soarers didn’t know about you. You were hidden so long as you stayed in Whetstone.”
“I don’t understand what you’re talking about. Who are the Soarers?” Her book about the elementals was going to need an index with all these strange terms explained.
“Soarers are the other side of the pendulum. The sylphs and salamanders. Here, you will be exposed. You’re not safe. Jasper couldn’t save Julian, and he won’t be able to save you.” Lettie’s voice rose as she became agitated. “The Soarers killed your parents, and now you have stepped into the open, they will find you.”
Cold water rushed down Dawn’s spine. “You are mistaken. My parents died in a terrible accident.” She glanced to Elijah, who abandoned picking flowers and walked back to them, a frown so like his uncle’s marring his young brow.
Lettie turned so her back rested against the tree and waved her hands in the air. “It was a trap. Did you not wonder why your parents didn’t get out of the carriage when the train bore down on them?”
Dawn gasped for air as her heart tightened and strained as the pain of loss flooded back through her. “You’re wrong. It was an accident. There was a heavy fog that afternoon and they never saw the train. Why are you saying such things?”
She had thought Lettie wanted to establish a friendship. Why would she invent such horrid lies about how her parents died? It was cruel. Her parents had been quiet and respectable members of their town.
A silent no whispered from Dawn’s throat. She couldn’t listen to anymore or the fractured woman would pull her down into her madness. She needed to think, to sort through the riot Lettie’s words stirred up. She needed the tranquillity of the lake.
She turned and ran, trusting that Nurse Hatton and Elijah would settle Lettie. Dawn’s feet pounded the forest path. Mouse barked and loped at her side, keeping pace in case she faltered and needed to draw on his size and strength. Dawn learned that speed was the best way to cope with the suffocating growth on the heavy wooded paths, and she tucked her head down and kept running as tears spilled down her cheeks.
Had Soarers murdered her parents?
17
Dawn emerged from the overgrown forest on unsteady feet. Her head was dizzy as words and images spun in her mind and her vision blurred from the tears cascading down her face. She drew a deep breath and wiped her eyes with a handkerchief pulled from a pocket. Now able to see where she placed her feet, she walked to her favourite spot along from the narrow jetty and dropped down on a moss-covered mound that sloped toward the water’s edge. She drew her legs up and hugged her knees.
Lettie was deranged, and her words were thrown without any understanding of their meaning. Perhaps she had confused Dawn with someone else or other events. If you lived for hundreds of years, it might become difficult to keep people separate, and the lives of those around you might meld into one.
There was no way Lettie could know such details of how Dawn’s parents died. To say they were lured into a trap and were unable to escape the carriage was a vile lie from a disturbed mind.
Yet the words ate at her. What did Lettie mean that the garden in Whetstone had sheltered her, but here her true nature would be revealed? Lord Seton had probably told Lettie he suspected Dawn to be a Meidh and the other woman latched onto that.
A week ago Dawn had been an ordinary woman living an ordinary existence, beneath the notice of anyone. Now there was a slender possibility that mythical creatures had murdered her parents and would seek her out because of her supposed heritage. Not to mention that she had decided to battle the evil wraith poisoning the estate.
She should have applied to be a governess. This would never have happened if she were wrangling unruly children.
The earl burst through the trees to her right, and he scanned the lake’s surface before settling on her. Mouse wagged his tail and then dropped his head back to stare at dragonflies skimming along the water.
Jasper sat on the moss behind her, with a boot-clad leg on either side. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back to his chest. “Elijah said you were upset and ran off. Whatever happened?”
Dawn rested against him and let out a long exhale. It probably wasn’t very proper to sit on the ground in a man’s arms like this; certainly she never saw her parents do anything so frivolously romantic. Or it might be something only younger, courting couples did. Either way, it was delicious to have his arms secure around her while she talked to the lake in front of her, without having to meet his serious scrutiny. “It was something Lettie said. But I’m sure she did not know what she meant and was confused.”
“Will you tell me?” His voice was a low whisper from by her head.
Dawn laid her hands over his. The Cor-vitis wriggled into life and wound itself around their forearms. It had more leaves now and even sprouted off shoots that wove intricate patterns as it advanced up their arms. There was a slight tingle when it crept over bare skin, like a pleasant version of a stinging nettle’s touch.
“She was talking of my parents’ deaths. But how would she know about it?”
“I must confess that is my fault.” He held out a finger to a seeking tendril, and it tested his skin like a dog scenting a treat.
“I don’t understand.” Or rather she feared that she did. How much did his watchers see?
The vine ignored his left hand and went back to finding a way under his right shirt sleeve. “I mentioned the newspaper article detailing your parents’ deaths to Hector, and Lettie must have overheard. She should have been born a Soarer. She has a way of ferreting out information you don’t want disclosed.”
Another memory stirred in Dawn’s mind. Her mother had once become upset at discovering a weasel in the garden, seekers of secrets she called them. Just as the Warders had a watcher observing her family, had Soarers planted their own spy in their garden? There were so many strands to this world, more and more it seemed she had stumbled into a spider’s web that sought to bind her. No matter how much she struggled, she could not free herself.
Lord Seton’s explanation raised more questions – what was the Whetstone paper that detailed her parents’ tragic deaths doing here at Ravenswing Manor? “You were investigating my background.”
His arms tightened around her as though he feared she might flee. “Yes. That a gently bred woman with no family arrived here to undertake such employment was unusual enough. Then I found myself drawn to you in a way I had never experienced before, and Lettie said the garden could sense you. If you were indeed an Elemental, I needed to discover if there was a chance you could restore balance to us all.”
They sat for a moment in near silence, with only the gentle gurgle of water as it tumbled over the rocks at one end of the lake. She traced a vein on the back of his hand, and the vine mimicked her action. “Lettie said my parents didn’t die in an accident, that they were kille
d on purpose. Do you think it is possible that Soarers murdered my parents?” It was a gently asked question with such harsh implications. If there was any truth in Lettie’s ramblings, what had her parents been involved in, and was she truly in danger now?
Jasper couldn’t save Julian, and he won’t be able to save you.
Were their lives entwined in ways beyond the green stalk that wound around their arms, seeking its way to their hearts? Was his enemy also hers?
His chest was a solid presence behind her and his heart a rhythmic beat. It lulled her, like listening to a metronome. When he spoke, his words rumbled through both their bodies. “Do you truly want to know the answer to that question?”
Her comfortable existence had been torn apart when her parents died. Ravenswing Manor offered her a fresh start in a new place, but if she were going to be part of this world she needed to know everything. Including the truth about her parents – particularly her mother who had kept so much hidden. No longer would she be the sheltered child. Her mind sought knowledge to better defend herself and to inform her decisions.
“If my mother was an Elemental, then I need to know why she never told me, why they hid me away, and why the Soarers would have any argument with them.” Questions spiralled through Dawn’s mind in a never-ending eddy. There was a vast amount of knowledge she lacked. Did her congenital weakness stem from a human or Elemental condition?
Jasper kissed the top of her head. “There are constant feuds between Elementals, as we each protect the interests of our creators or seek to address the imbalances the actions of the others cause. Your mother might have remained neutral her whole life or, more likely, she may have been involved in a larger event. If she kept your true heritage from you, then perhaps it was to protect you.”
“We should hold a séance and ask her directly.” If only the solution were that easy. Tears welled up in her eyes. How she ached for her mother’s warm presence. Jasper’s arms around her were comforting, but they weren’t maternal ones that could eliminate all her worries with one hug.
It seemed the familial similarities between mother and daughter went far deeper than bone structure and colouring. They also shared Elemental blood. How could her mother have been connected to such a marvellous and terrifying world and not tell her only daughter? Keeping her ignorant of potential danger was no protection. Jasper was right, her mother must have had a reason for keeping her hidden and unaware. Dawn wondered if some larger tragedy had touched their lives, and her mother hid her only child from the repercussions. It was something Dawn could imagine doing, if she were ever blessed with a child.
“I have vowed to protect it and it will protect us,” she whispered.
“What will protect you?” Jasper lifted a finger that had been wrapped in a sliver of tendril. The plant rose up like a puppet having its string pulled.
“Something silly my mother used to say about a paperweight.” Another thought buzzed into Dawn’s head as a raven flew to the trees beside them. Her mother had been fit and healthy, and partook of what appeared to be a normal life. Why did she not have Dawn’s delicate heart?
“Do all Meidh share the same traits and abilities?” She had told no one of her weak condition, and as she had improved here, perhaps it would become a moot point. She just needed to become accustomed to the physical labour and the tiredness would dissipate. What she would give for a normal lifespan, even if it paled in comparison to the centuries that Jasper had at his disposal.
“No. The fifth element has many different manifestations. Quintessence is said to be the element that created the universe and all of us. From our observations, each Meidh possesses a particular trait in such a high concentration that it becomes a type of power. Often their name reflects that trait.”
“Dawn doesn’t reflect an affinity for gardening. I should have been named Rose or Violet.”
“You need to take a larger view. Dawn is the beginning of something new. Is that not a type of creation?” He wove a pattern on the back of her hand that was replicated by the tiny vine on the other. Except his motion produced a slow heat in her body that made her shift in his embrace.
“Mother’s name was Verity, and father called her his truth taster. She used to say that lies were sour in her mouth but the truth was sweet. Do you think that was her ability?” The vine had stopped its progress. Perhaps they had worn it out with such continued contact, or it was frustrated by the fabric of their clothing. If there was naked skin-to-skin, how would it spread over them?
“Verity means truth, so I would say that yes, that was your mother’s Meidh trait.” Jasper also stilled his movement and laid his larger hand flat over hers. “I will contact the Lord Warder of the Eastern District and see if he knew of your mother and any fight that may have touched your family. Until then, let us try a more ordinary approach: Did your father have any enemies?”
Dawn laughed. Her father barely ever had cross words with anyone. Her parents had a gentle and quiet marriage, and Dawn imagined his business dealings were similarly subdued. “He was a book keeper. His type don’t have enemies apart from columns of numbers.”
Jasper made a noise in his throat as he thought. “Many a family has been ruined by columns of numbers. Book keepers also have access to confidential financial information about businesses and investments.”
“Investments,” she whispered. One word and horror of events crashed over her. Dawn’s head slumped forward as fresh tears stained her eyes.
“You’ve remembered something?” Jasper leaned forward to shelter her body within the confines of his as she cried.
With a few deep breaths she brought her grief under control. She lifted her head and wiped her face on the hem of her skirt. “The day of the accident, Father had been called to an urgent meeting at his office. Mr Stevens – he’s the family solicitor – said it was about a rather large investment. Father received news the business dealing had failed. He had borrowed against the house, thinking to secure our future, and instead lost everything.”
“Money is often a motivator that drives men’s actions. It could be Soarers were not involved at all. Would you allow me to make enquiries with Mr Stevens?”
She wanted to scream NO! Let the dead lie undisturbed. No good could come of dredging up that horrid day. But Lettie’s words took root in her mind and burrowed deep. If there was any grain of truth, then she owed it to her parents to find out. What if another hand had plotted their deaths?
Vengeance, her mind whispered.
She made a decision and sat a little steadier in his embrace. “Yes, dispatch your ravens and let us see what we can uncover.”
A laugh rumbled through his chest. “I shall use the post for Mr Stevens. Solicitors don’t often communicate by raven.”
So many questions to be asked! How would she bide her time until answers arrived? She followed Mouse’s line of sight to the particular dragonfly that hunted over the lake. The entire estate deserved to experience the sense of peace that was found in this one spot. Not just the estate, but those who lived here.
“What of Ava? Will you tell me who or what she is and how she took control of the estate? I will no longer be kept ignorant, and I cannot restore balance if I do not know anything of my opponent. Lettie said she had wanted to scare me away because it’s too dangerous.”
Jasper’s chest heaved in a sigh behind her. “Yes it is dangerous, but I will protect you.”
Jasper couldn’t save Julian. Would she lose this fight? Not so long ago she had lain on her bed and waited for death’s embrace to claim her, but now she would wield any weapon at her disposal to increase her time on this earth.
“Is she alive and living in the hermitage?” Dawn asked.
Jasper stroked circles over Dawn’s inner wrist with his thumb, and a tendril of the vine transcribed the action into her skin. “She is alive, of sorts. She gave up what she used to be decades ago, after Julian died. Now she is the embodiment of the rot feeding on this estate. As to where she resi
des, who knows. It could be the hermitage, a shepherd’s shack, or under a tree.”
“The vine is hers.” Dawn imagined Ava as a witch and the vine her familiar.
“Yes. As it spreads, it destroys those areas of the garden that it touches, but I have been able to limit her to this estate so the village remains unaffected.”
“Did grief change her?” The sickness in the estate could be the reflection of a woman consumed by grief for the man she loved. Rather than a true malevolent spirit, she might be like the ghost in a story that needs help to move on to the next realm. She could be healed. Then Dawn remembered the look in Hector’s startled eyes as he hushed her and told her never to mention that name by the maze.
A shorter laugh vibrated through Jasper. “I doubt Ava ever truly loved him. She used Julian and then abandoned him once she had what she wanted. Julian and Lettie were ambushed, and I believe Ava set the trap.”
Dawn couldn’t imagine what the other woman valued so highly that she had sent a good man to his death and perverted nature with the black vines strangling the garden. High-born women pursued titles and comfortable livings. But Ava and Julian never wed, and it appeared she roamed wild on the estate and possibly sheltered in the hermitage. If she hadn’t seduced Julian for wealth or position, what form of greed possessed her? “What does she want?”
Jasper traced a finger up the nape of Dawn’s neck and pushed a loose curl back into her bun. As his hand went upward, a tingle descended along her spine. “His essence and Elemental power. Ava sucked Julian dry of his longevity, which left him vulnerable to the attack by the Hamiltons.”
Dawn closed her eyes and sorted through his words. “I am trapped in another realm. How can any of this be real?”