The lights were low and through the windows the lamps at the dock reflected off the lake. It was very quiet in the Byrne’s cottage--so unlike ours. Sherman sat at the table with a pleasant look on his face, Victoria next to him. She looked pretty. It was an odd time to notice, but her hair was down—it made her shoulders look narrower and slightly more petit.
Sherman’s face remained completely placid. “Your friend will be awake very soon, Maggie, and she will have no memories of what happened to her.”
Tears welled up in my eyes and I sat down where I stood, in the middle of the floor, and sobbed. It was a release of emotion that would make my Grandma Sophie proud. I didn’t care that the Fae were here watching me, either. Relief overwhelmed me—I was going to get my friend back and she wouldn’t have images of me slashing her wrists floating around in her head.
“She will remember nothing of that day,” he said.
“Oh, my gosh!” Had Sherman seen me tell her about the Fae? Had he seen my futile attempt to teach her the mind trick to block it all out?
“In fact, I’ve taken the liberty to redirect her interests in a much safer direction.” Yes, he did … oh holy …
Victoria looked at me and smiled pleasantly. “I know you must desire a confidant, but you need to be more careful. She recognized that her attacker was Fae, and she’d spent months at the cottage with the images floating about in her mind for all to see. The Fae that hurt her did so because she suspected Fae involvement in all of those accidents—it saw the clippings. Tell us honestly—you confided in her, did you not?”
I nodded, too embarrassed to try to justify my actions.
“I appreciate your candor, but I must insist that you be more careful,” Sherman said. He spoke like a disapproving grandfather, not a powerful immortal.
“Were the Fae involved in the accidents?”
“Yes, in all of them.”
The memory of what happened to Jonathon Sanderson rattled me. I promised myself that I wouldn’t make the same mistake again.
TWENTY-ONE
CONVALESCING
The nineteenth of June was a blur. I didn’t leave the hospital until two o’clock in the afternoon. By that time, the news of Candace’s recovery had spread across town, and I was exhausted. Chloe and the doctors limited everyone’s access to brief intervals, but still there was a constant flow of people in and out of the waiting room. Candace reacted to each visitor better than I’d expected, though she was exhausted and confused. She fell asleep at ten o’clock that morning. The moment her eyes closed, Chloe panicked and shook her until she woke up angry and disoriented. I understood Chloe’s panic. When Candace dozed off, it scared me too.
Mom and Dad finally persuaded me to leave after I fell asleep in a chair and woke with a stiff neck and drool on my chin. Doug, who had waited with me since six o’clock in the morning, volunteered to drive me home.
I dozed off in the car and only woke up as he carried me to the cottage through the garden.
“Let’s sit out here for a minute, please?” I asked.
He smiled and nodded.
After breathing hospital air for several hours, I wanted to be outside for a few minutes. Doug didn’t put me down until we got to the table overlooking the lake. It was peaceful and not too hot in the shade, so I took a seat where I could see the water. He sat next to me, gently taking my hand, and leaned back into his chair. The mountain air made me feel better.
I watched a red squirrel bound across the rock wall and onto a crabapple tree in the garden before dropping to the ground and disappearing between a stand of purple Larkspur and a cluster of pink Foxgloves. It was Fae, and so was the Bald Eagle perched high atop one of the giant White Oaks shading the Toy Box.
Doug’s laugh pulled me out of the hazy place where my mind had been lingering.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing is funny, Havana, I’m just happy that you’re finally relaxed.”
“Relaxed? No, I’m exhausted,” I said, managing a grin.
“I know you’re tired, but you’re relaxed, too. I can see the difference in your eyes, your posture—this is the most relaxed I’ve seen you since ... well, forever,” he said.
“Maybe you’re right.”
“I am. You’ve carried Candace around with you for two months, putting all of it on yourself—since the day of her … injury. I know that when you’re with me, even yesterday on the boat, you’re thinking about her, fighting for her.” A broad smile crossed his handsome face as he turned his head to look at me. A little ray of sun cut through the canopy and lit up his crystal blue eyes for a moment. “You’ve never wavered or given up hope. I think you’re the most caring person I’ve ever met, and don’t get me wrong, I’m relieved for her, but I’m even more relieved for you.” He squeezed my hand.
I smiled and returned the squeeze. His blue eyes were warmer than ever, and it struck me just how beautiful he was, right then, sitting with me in the dappled shade. He wasn’t wearing anything nice, just a worn, gray Razorback t-shirt and old, faded jeans, and he needed to comb his hair, but he was beautiful to me for so many reasons: the emotion in his voice, and the fact that he recognized something about me that I hadn’t—I had relaxed. It was the most relaxed I’d been since the week before my birthday party.
It also struck me that he’d used the word injury instead of suicide. He was there at the hospital this morning, quietly supporting me. My beautiful, strong shoulder to lean on—in every possible way, he’d kept his end of the bargain.
“Doug, I wouldn’t have made it through this without you. You’ve been amazing.” I locked my eyes on his. “Thank you.”
He grinned and wrinkled his nose. “Ahhh, it was nuttin’.”
I laughed, and suddenly I wondered why I wasn’t in his arms. My attraction to him was stronger ever. I considered it for only a moment before I stood up. I needed sleep, and I needed to stop thinking about him that way. Fatigue is clouding my judgment.
“I really appreciate the ride home, but I think I’m ready to sleep a little,” I said with a spontaneous yawn. “Wait, how are you getting home? Isn’t your car at the hospital?”
“No, I didn’t drive. I rode with your mom and dad—my boat’s tied to your dock.”
Mom and Dad? I pondered that for a moment, but let it go. He walked me to the cottage and I reached up to hug him at the door. He embraced me, firmly, and pulled me close. I found the warmth of his body seductive. I felt tingling in my stomach and it quickly spread to my chest and knees. It felt so good to hold him, to feel the muscles in his back and to push my face into his chest. I even liked the smell of his shirt. Tide, if I’m not mistaken.
Ahhhhhh, Get a grip, Maggie! But I did like it. Slowly, I looked up at his face and he smiled. My god, he’s beautiful. The butterflies in my stomach went nuts, and I closed my eyes as my heart sped up. I knew he was about to kiss me … and I wanted him to. I felt him move closer and I readied myself. I felt his lips … on my forehead. It completely knocked me out of my bliss.
I asked for it, I know. He was keeping his end of the bargain, and having a little fun in the process. I could tell by the look on his face he knew I wanted a real kiss—the annoying grin said it all. I laughed a little, despite trying hard not to, and opened the front door. Doug one, Maggie zero. Turning, I put my chin over my shoulder and gave him my best pouty smile. Two can play at that game. He shook his head and took a deep breath. Tie score.
“Goodbye, Douglas.”
“Nighty, night, Havana…”
He turned, with an enormous smile still on his face, and walked by the fountain on the path that led to the boat dock. I climbed the stairs and collapsed into the puffy white duvet cover on my bed, completely exhausted. I vaguely recall thinking about taking off the dress I’d been wearing since dinner last night.
* * *
We stood on the second island by the rock outcropping looking at the Capri. Untied and adrift about a hundred feet from shore, it bobbed on th
e waves, rope floating in front of it in a loose curl on the surface of the water. Doug offered to swim out and bring it back, but I was afraid. We shouldn’t be here.
Actually, I was frozen. I couldn’t seem to move and I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to get him off the island—I wanted to get him as far away from here as possible—before they noticed. It’s the wrong cycle—it’s the Unseelie cycle. A moment later I felt them. I sensed them drawing closer. I stared back up the dark path into the trees looking for the closest one. Oh god, they’re too close—we might not have enough time to get to the boat. Doug laughed at me—he didn’t understand the danger we were in.
A low, deep growl rattled through the trees and sent a chill down my spine. Doug spun and stared in the direction of the noise. I heard it coming now, each step. Limbs snapped, and the growls grew louder, more intense. Doug moved in front of me, shielding me from the thing stalking us in the underbrush. I tried to reach up to pull him behind me, but my arms remained frozen at my sides.
I felt the fear, the forced fear the creature pressed down on us. Doug shuddered in front of me—he felt it too. He looked back at me for a split-second, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly agape. He tried to say something, but there was movement directly in front of us. It must have caught his eye, because he turned to face it. Run, Doug, Run! My mind screamed again, though no sound crossed my lips.
At first all I saw was dark fur, and its size—it was massive. What shape did it take, a bear maybe? Again I tried to move, but fear paralyzed every muscle in my body. I knew that we should swim for the boat. He wasn’t as fast as me, but Doug could make it in thirty seconds or less. Yes, that’s our best bet. But I still couldn’t move and Doug wouldn’t leave me. I sensed another one, just a few feet to the right, and yet one more above us—the third, still just out of view, advanced toward us from atop the stone promontory.
This isn’t supposed to happen. I had permission to be here anytime, and no harm was supposed to come to anyone with me. I knew, however—I felt—that we were both in mortal danger.
Doug gasped and shuddered again when the closest one pushed its enormous head through the brush. It resembled a bear and a wolf combined. It appeared much crueler and more frightening than anything I’d ever seen, pulling its black lips back over long, yellow canines. Underneath the head, a massive paw emerged from the brush and wrapped its long, black claws around a stone in the clearing—I watched the claw tips cut into the earth.
Doug jerked his head to the right when the second one appeared, as black as the first, its yellow eyes locked onto him. Concentrating with all of my strength, I tried to move my hand, just my hand. If I can do that, just that, I’ll be able to move the rest of my body, and we might still make it. Over and over I said in my head, just move, but in my heart I knew I couldn’t. I tried to scream, to call Gavin or Sara, anyone to help us, but my voice was hoarse, weak—inaudible.
In a nightmarish flash, it happened. All three leapt in unison and dragged Doug, screaming, into the gravel at the water’s edge. I tried to catch them with my mind. If I could, I would smash them flat into the bluff face, but I couldn’t feel anything. Doug’s muffled screams filled my ears as the beasts clawed, snapped and slashed at his body beneath them.
Unable to scream, unable to move, I tried to lash out with my mind again, to use the air to knock them off him. I could hear him fighting for his life—I couldn’t move. It wasn’t possible to look away, either. I couldn’t even close my eyes. All I could see under the mass of rippling, black fur and claws was Doug’s left foot. I concentrated on it, hoping to break free, but it went slack and his screams stopped. The beasts continued the carnage.
Frozen and horrified, I just stood there watching as one of the beasts slowly lifted its head. The foggy blue eyes locked onto mine. My heart jumped into my throat.
“Maggie, are you still asleep?”
I sat up in my bed gasping. “Oh my god … it wasn’t real.” I laid my head back on the pillow and wiped the sweat from my face as adrenalin surged through my veins.
“Maggie, honey?” Mom called again.
I took a deep breath and tried to orient myself. It was eight o’clock in the evening and getting dark outside. After another deep breath, I finally calmed myself—I focused on Doug in the garden earlier, alive and healthy, and my heart slowed.
“I’m awake, Mom.”
She came in and started laughing,
“Oh honey, you fell asleep with your dress on.”
“I guess I did,” I said, wiping the sleep out of my eyes. “I’ll be right down, okay? I just need a quick bath.”
She sat on my bed as I stumbled to my closet, still trying to shake the nightmare, and found a pair of shorts and a t-shirt.
* * *
Mom and I had helped Chloe move Candace back into her house three days ago. The doctor had finally released her from the hospital a week after she awoke from the coma. She began meeting with a counselor to help her with recovery. She didn’t like it, but her doctors said she had to do it. I thought it was a good idea, even though she didn’t actually hurt herself. Thanks to Sherman, she remembered nothing of what happened that day. She had been through a traumatic experience, though. As far as she knew she’d tried suicide, and coming to grips with that was taking its toll on her.
Candace had made a lot of progress, but she still suffered from the effects. She was understandably confused and had a lot of trouble keeping her temper in check. Mostly, she felt embarrassed, and even more she resented the doting attention everyone seemed to want to shower her with. Having me around seemed to bring her some peace as we joked often and I got her to laugh every chance I could. Because of that, Chloe was eager for me to spend as much time with her as possible.
Today, Gavin and I dragged Candace to the Garden Bistro, her favorite restaurant in Eureka—it was her first time out in public since the injury. Away from everyone else, and with a bowl of the best tomato bisque in the state, she seemed more at ease. She wore long sleeves to cover up the scars on her wrists—the wounds were two-and-a-half-months-old, and mostly healed, but they left long, jagged, puffy, dark-pink reminders that stood out in sharp contrast to her pale skin. As a sign of solidarity, I wore long sleeves too, even though it was ninety-five degrees outside.
We’d been sitting at the table outside on the tiny patio for fifteen minutes when she tugged at my shirt and rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to sweat your butt off on my account.”
I laughed. “Please, I’m just trying to keep up with the fashion goddess of Northwest Arkansas.”
“Thanks,” she said.
We ate, but she scanned the shaded patio to see if anyone was staring at her. She checked her cuffs, tugging them down, every thirty seconds. Gavin and I engaged her with school gossip, news of my most recent water-skiing trip, and the latest speculation that Ronnie was dating Rhonda’s brother, Greg. Gavin silently manufactured calmness, just as I’d asked him to do. She relaxed with us, and while she was far from being back to her old self—how could she be—I felt relieved that we were together, eating a meal under the warm sun.
After taking Candace home, Gavin drove me back to the Weald. When we got in the car, Gavin handed me the red stone.
“Oh, my gosh, I forgot all about the Fire trial. When is it?”
“Tomorrow. It would have been last week, but because of Candace we decided to postpone it for you. I think she’ll be fine on her own tomorrow,” he said, a warm smile following his words.
“Gavin, can you do me a favor?” It seemed almost unfair to ask him for another one.
He nodded, keeping his eyes on the road. “Do you want to know about the trial?”
“Yes, I do, but that isn’t my favor.”
He had a puzzled look on his face, but he nodded again. “Okay.”
“Can you, or Sherman, visit Candace and make the scars go away ... you know, another miraculous Healing Spring cure for old time’s sake.”
He smiled, and watched me
for a moment. “Yes, we can do that.”
“Thanks, because I think healing the scars on her wrists will help her to begin healing other scars.”
He put his hand on mine, and shook his head as we headed out of town.
“What?” I asked, as my goofy grin fought its way to the surface.
He just grinned and looked into the rearview mirror, before shifting his eyes back to the road. “So, interested in the Fire trial at all?”
I nodded.
“I’ll take you to Fayetteville tomorrow. We’ll tell your parents that you’re spending the day in the botanical gardens furthering your new found love affair with horticulture.”
“Okay, great. So tell me, where will we really be going?”
I was actually very happy, at the moment, that there were no volcanoes in Arkansas.
“A volcano,” he said.
I looked at him, shocked.
“I’m kidding ... you let that one slip through,” he said, pointing to his temple.
“Okay, psychic stalker!”
“Naw, you’re just getting soft,” he said playfully
I punched his massive bicep, and rolled my eyes.
He laughed at me, genuinely amused. “We’re actually going to the Botanical Gardens of the Ozarks. Your trial will take place there, by Lake Fayetteville. You are to find the Fire symbol, and place the stone…
“…Place the stone inside and follow the instructions,” I said cutting him off.
“No, this time you have to answer a few questions.”
Questions? That’s new.
“In the back seat you’ll find a duffel bag—take it with you and study the contents tonight. I’d say to memorize the Fire sign, but you’ve already got that committed to memory I see.
“Yes, and I intended you to see that one, by the way.” I laughed.
“Sure…”
Dad was in the Toy Box when we pulled up. He had the cover off of his Mustang, working under the hood with Mitch and Justice by his side. He smiled at us and went back to work.
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