"That horse would have stomped you into itty-bitty kitty pieces if I hadn't shouted at it."
The purring stopped.
"Ungrateful beast."
It started again.
"I hate cats."
He sounded like a car engine.
"I hate you, especially."
The cat opened his weird green eyes and blinked at her.
With each insult, the gnawing anger inside of her dissipated a little.
"You're ugly."
Knot stretched and yawned.
"You shed fur everywhere."
The cat sat up.
"I should kick your butt for peeing in my suitcase."
Knot licked the fur on his tail with his pink tongue.
"Ew! Gross!"
The cat hopped off the bed and meandered over to the door. He sat down, his head turned expectantly toward Keelie.
She scooted off the bed, walked over to him, and stared down at the insolent feline, her hands on her hips. "I'm not your door girl."
He blinked up at her.
"All right." She cracked the door and the cat squeezed out. She reasoned that if she didn't let him out, he might spray the room. It would be unliveable. As it was, she might never get the noxious smell of his urine out of her underwear and suitcase.
She heard her father speaking to a woman at the base of the stairs. Keelie could see his back and heard her low response. Keelie closed the door but left it open a wee smidge so she could hear and see.
"I don't know how to get through to her," Zeke was saying.
The woman answered, "Give her time, Zeke. Keelie has just arrived to a whole new world. It's the total opposite of what she's known, and on top of that she's grieving for her mother."
It sounded like nosy Janice. Keelie didn't need anyone going to bat for her. If she was blowing her father's mind with her rebellious attitude, then her plan was working. He would want to get rid of her all the sooner. And that meant she could live with Laurie in Los Angeles.
Keelie was doing him a favor.
She watched as her father's shoulders slumped. "I should never have agreed to be hands-off with Keelie's upbringing all those years ago. But that was what Katy wanted. She was so afraid of what Keelie would become. As if keeping her away from me would change the facts."
Keelie sucked in her breath. It wasn't Mom's idea for Zeke not to see her. How dare he blame his absence all these years on Mom!
"What are you going to do? It's obvious what she is," the woman said. "The whole Ren Faire's buzzing about her. She needs to know, Zeke, and be taught some control. She's already wreaked havoc. That cat, for example. And poor Elia-not that she didn't deserve it. But if the mundanes notice, it would mean real trouble, for all of us."
Keelie almost jumped out of her hiding place. Had they gone crazy?
Her dad sat on the stairs, long legs sprawled out. He leaned his head on his hand. "She doesn't want to learn about her gift. Katy let Keelie think we were divorced, that I abandoned them."
So it was true. Keelie's head felt heavy.
Knot hopped into her father's lap, and he absentmindedly scratched him behind the ear. The cat closed his eyes and swished his tail.
"Stinker," Keelie mouthed silently.
Knot opened his eyes. They glowed like freaky green swamp gas. What was even freakier was that the cat stared right at Keelie as if he heard her. He began purring so loudly that she could hear his thrum upstairs.
Keelie quietly shut the door. The whole Ren Faire was talking about her? Well, la-de-da. She was leaving anyway.
No way she was going to wait around for Zeke to have another life-changing chat with her. She waited until Zeke left the stairs and returned to work, then put her shoes on and took off down the hill. She needed to see Ariel. She had a lot in common with the imprisoned hawk. Maybe she could just talk to her.
The sky was a lot darker than usual for this time of the evening, even though the tornado watch had been called off. She'd probably be missing dinner, if Zeke was planning to cook. More likely he'd send her back to Mrs. Butters. What a weird little woman.
Keelie passed merchants putting up their wares and locking their shops. A few glanced at her, then quickly turned back to their tasks. Keelie frowned. Was it her breath? Here she was dressed like one of them, living here, and she was being treated like a leper. Not that she wanted to be the local princess. But, still-would it hurt them to say hi?
She slowed as she reached the Birds of Prey show stage. A little sign next to a giant pine read "The Mews." Behind it was the place where the bird cages were kept. It was dark and silent.
What if she went in and woke the birds up? The great owls and vultures and hawks? The squawking would bring down a crowd. She stopped and looked around. Sir Davey's shop was not too far away, but she didn't feel like another lesson on dirt and mud. Thunder rumbled above, but it seemed far away.
Maybe waking the birds was a bad idea. She needed warmth and to be around people. She thought of the Shire. Keelie turned toward the path. Maybe she would take more than a couple of swallows of the bottle when it was passed around. She needed something to warm her on the inside as well as the outside.
Last night, the tent had been warm and dry. She wondered what tent Sean slept in. And if he slept alone. Maybe Raven knew. She'd go to the Shire and ask her. She whipped around and started back down the hill, staying close to the merchants opposite Heartwood, in case Zeke saw her.
She walked past Galadriel's Closet and scooted quickly down to the bridge. She remembered Raven's instructions. "Over the bridge, past the meadow," she muttered. Stay on the path.
As the shadow of the bridge came into view, she saw lights to the left. Bingo. She remembered the lovers doing it underneath the bridge last night. With so many tents and buildings around, you'd think people would pick some place warmer and dryer. A troll didn't under live under the bridge. Or did it?
She thought about the slugs and frogs and spiders that no doubt did live there. Creepier than a troll, in her book.
She touched the handrail. Her hand buzzed, tingling. And she knew. Redwood from California.
"Far from home, aren't you?" Keelie murmured. Quickly, she withdrew her hand. And inhaled. She had to stop this. She just needed to be around the other kids that hung out at the party. Hopefully, she could find Sean. She imagined placing her hands against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her. She envisioned the warmth of his body soaking into hers.
"Keliel." Her name wafted around her like half-remembered perfume. A ghost of her name, carried on the faint breeze, and drawn out, as if the speaker were singing, but forgot the tune.
She looked around nervously. Keliel. The voice had plainly called her by her given name. Not Keelie, the nickname her mother had called her. Who besides her dad and Ms. Talbot even knew it?
The rain-laden breeze ruffled her hair. "Keliel," the voice moaned, and it sounded as if it was coming from beneath the boards under her feet. "Keliel, swim with me."
What the heck? She looked down. Not cool. She thought of walking up this path yesterday with Raven, talking about horror movies. Creepy films where girls walking around in the dark alone always ended up as chick nuggets.
The girls in those movies were too stupid to live. She didn't consider herself stupid, so why the heck was she out here in the dark? She wasn't going to stick around to find out whoever or whatever knew her name. Her real name.
Suddenly, she realized that it was quiet. As in, not even any insects. No light. She looked behind her, up the path toward Heartwood. No light showed. Only the moon illuminated the path. Fast clouds moved in the purple sky around it.
She looked around, then stopped. There was a light. It was on the other side of the clearing. She wasn't afraid, she told herself, breaking into a run. Gravel in the path crunched underfoot as she sped toward the light. It must be the Shire.
She was off the path now, trying to ignore the buzzing on her skin as she passed tree after tree. So many. Pine, pine,
oak, hawthorn. Something about the hawthorn was different. She didn't stick around to find out.
She ran faster, eager to get to the light. She veered north, the moon at her right shoulder. The meadow she ran through was fragrant with tall grass. At the end of the meadow was a forest. The light came from there. Suddenly, a cloud of bugs sprang out of the weeds. Fireflies. Hundreds and hundreds of them.
Storm clouds covered the moon, and it was suddenly dark. Pitch black. No stars. No way of orienting herself. The fireflies glowed brighter, seeming to gain light from the darkness. They hovered, a living wall.
She stopped, afraid. Bugs didn't get brighter. These fireflies didn't twinkle, turning on and off like regular ones. They just glowed. Like lightbulbs. She backed away. She didn't want to go through them. Her stomach ached, as if it had been clenched for a long time. She shivered. She had to find a way home. She wanted her mom.
Maybe she could ask the voice at the bridge for directions. Okay, maybe not. This was weird. She wasn't afraid of the dark. And she sure as heck wasn't afraid of bugs or lights.
She forced herself to take a step forward. Fireflies were just little bugs. Bugs were creepy, but fireflies were like lady bugs. Raven would forge ahead and not be afraidshe'd march right into the creepy dark, and whatever was in the woods would be afraid.
Keelie took a step toward the forest, then another. The lights were closer, and then they were gone, and she was at the edge of a village. An honest to goodness village, not the crappy mudfest of the Faire.
Why didn't her dad's place look this good? She stepped onto the pine-needle cushion of the forest floor and felt immediate relief, as if an unknown pain had been relieved.
A stone tower pushed toward the tree tops, embellished with carved, jeweled dragonflies and stone leaves. Really, Dad had the forest thing going on, but these people took it to designer level.
It was no Bel-Air mansion, but if she was roughing it, this was roughing it with style. A beautiful smell clung to the place. Like going into a Bath & Body Works. What was that smell? It was like Christmas here. A subtle hint of cinnamon imbued the mostly pine forest.
A movement at the base of the tower caught her eye. Elia was inside, wiping down her harp. Holy cow. Keelie crept closer. She lived upstairs from a wood shop, and Elia lived in a stone tower, like a princess? So not fair.
Before she could get closer, a man appeared. He looked like something from The Lord of the Rings. Tall, with long blonde hair and a long, cold face, he wore crimson robes that swept the forest floor as he stepped in front of her, barring her way.
"Whoa. Am I glad to see you. Can you tell me how to get back to the Faire?"
"Who are you? How did you get here?"
Elia came to the door. "Father, is something wrong?" She saw Keelie and froze. "Keelie? How did you get past the Dread?"
This guy was Elia's dad! Immediately, Keelie saw the family resemblance. Sneering must be in their genetic code. Elia angled her head in that snarky I'm-better-than-you tilt that irritated Keelie. She'd have to do an impression of Elia for Raven.
But, the Dread? What was that, their guard dog? "I didn't see any Dread. I got off the path and got lost. Really, if you show me the way back I'll be out of your hair in a minute. By the way, love the outfit. Where did you get it?" Gold embroidered leaves trailed around the wide sleeves: a back-to-nature theme with bling, bling. It went with the designer feel of the camp.
Glowering at Keelie, Elia's dad swung a silver chain back and forth like a pendulum. "You're Heartwood's brat. His little human half-breed."
Keelie's eyes were drawn to the strange pendant, a vine of thorns twined around an acorn. She shivered as the man's glance caught hers. The thorn-imprisoned acorn spun around hypnotically. Clasping his hand over the pendant, he shoved it up his wide sleeve.
As it vanished, she regained her courage. "I am Keliel Heartwood," she confirmed, giving him her full name. "And who are you?"
His eyebrows surged together in a glacial frown.
A voice spoke a name in her mind, green and fragrant with sap, counteracting the strong odor of cinnamon.
"Elianard. That's your name."
He stepped back.
"How did she know, Father?" Elia's voice was almost frightened.
Suddenly, an overpowering darkness enveloped Keelie. The trees swayed, but she couldn't feel the wind; instead, it was hot. Very hot and sticky. Sweat dripped down her back as she stumbled away from the blurring images of Elianard and Elia. His crimson robes becoming a morphic swirl of crimson and darkness. A nasty giggle surrounded Keelie as she woodenly ran away from the camp. She had to get out of here. Now. She couldn't stay any longer. If she did she wouldn't be able to breathe.
Something scratched at her legs as she ran. She only knew one thing: Get out of the forest. Green ropy fingers with sharp pointy nails snagged her skirt. She saw briars and thorns, but she thought she saw eyes and limbs tangled in the mess.
Keelie ran up to a beech tree and wrapped herself around it. She pressed her face into the smooth bark. Its life-giving sap pumped through its trunk like the red blood that flowed through Keelie's body. A branch touched her hair with sticklike fingers in a comforting gesture, sort of like Mom use to do when Keelie was upset. Raw grief burst forth. Unbidden tears flowed down her face, but it washed away the fear, revealing a hollow hole inside her heart.
She said in a soft whisper, "Mom, where are you? Which way to the Faire?" As if in answer, Keelie heard water flowing nearby. It had to be the stream. She lifted her head up toward the branch, and for a second she swore she thought she'd seen some primitive puppets made of sticks, grass, and leaves way high in the uppermost branches of the tree. She shook her head. Ever since she'd arrived here at the Faire, she'd seen things that she'd sworn were there, and when she looked they weren't. It was like the lines between reality and pretend had blurred. Did she really want to see stick men?
No.
Keelie stepped away from the tree and brushed away her tears. If Raven were here, she would have marched over the bridge and all the way back to New York. But what if Keelie heard the eerie voice again? Taking a cue from Raven's example, Keelie summoned her bravado, what was left of it, and marched with determination. What was another weird voice in her head? She was going to get back to the Faire, and she was going to get back to California ASAP
She started to touch the redwood handrail but pulled her hand back. Enough. Her wood-channeling days were over. From the corner of her eye, she saw a small shape run in and between the trees. It was too fast to be a raccoon, and it didn't move like anything from Animal Planet. She shuddered. No. She wasn't going to let her boundaries between reality and imagination blend like two primary colors.
She just had to get over the bridge and get her ass back to the Faire. "Over the stream, through the woods, back to Daddy's bungalow, I go." Her whispered song faded as she heard the watery voice from under the bridge.
"Keliel. Danger."
She stopped.
Twigs snapped in the woods. In between gathering dark clouds, the moon silvered the forest as the red blur streaked through the trees. From the distance, thunder rumbled. Adrenalin pumped through Keelie as she ran across the bridge.
On the opposite side she tripped over a rock, tumbled down the bank, and landed face-first in the shallow water. As she pushed up on her hands, something heavy and solid landed on her back. Whatever was on her pushed Keelie's head back underwater.
Water filled her nose, her mouth. She couldn't breathe. She kicked her legs as she tried to roll over to get the thing off of her. She opened her eyes, but she couldn't see anything. The eerie voice that she'd heard under the bridge was clearer, sharper. "Touch the bridge."
Keelie searched frantically for the bridge. Inches from her head was the bridge post, but she couldn't reach it. She forced her way over to it, using her elbows in the sandy bottom as the heavy thing on her back pushed her head farther down into the water. The tips of her fingers scraped the wood
. Energy flowed through her. The solid weight on her back was suddenly gone. Keelie flung her head up, gasping for breath.
Rivulets of water streamed down her face and over her body as, teeth chattering, Keelie rose to her knees.
Shock and cold coursed through her. Someone had tried to kill her. Or something, she thought as she stared at a pruny-faced little man with a red cap and pointed teeth, gesticulating wildly at her with his hands as he danced a jig on the other side of the stream. He looked like a Christmas elf gone bad.
"Death to the daughter. And grief to the father," he sang in a tinny, singsong voice. The Twilight Zone moment was interrupted by a bundle of orange fur that landed in front of the repulsive Rumpelstiltskin.
Knot hissed as he swished his tail back and forth like a deadly whip. Teeth bared and ears flat against his head, a deep growl rumbled from his throat.
"Get him, Knot," Keelie yelled, then stopped. What if the hideous thing hurt Knot?
The little man growled back, snapping his teeth together. The cat crouched lower, his bottom moving back and forth, ready to attack. Keelie held her breath, unsure how this would end. She crouched, too, and felt for a stick. If Knot needed her, she'd play Whac-A-Mole with the little creep.
The red-capped man reached down to the ground and pulled up a black, decayed mushroom. A horrid stench filled the air as it disintegrated. The little man danced a jig, and more rancid mushrooms popped up from the ground. Old autumn leaves from the forest floor swirled around the hideous creature in a leafy tornado, hiding him.
Knot attacked, but when he landed there were only old dried leaves and mushroom goo. He waggled his left front leg and then his right front one to dislodge the fungus yuck from his paw pads. The smell was outrageous.
He meowed and turned his head toward Keelie. His swampy green eyes glowed like two full green moons. He headed away from the stream and through the woods, with his tail swishing back and forth. His orange fur gleamed with phosphorus luminosity.
"You know this place better than me, old cat." She followed him. He was hateful and obnoxious, but he'd come to her rescue. She glanced once more toward the bridge, but saw only darkness.
The Tree Shepherd's Daughter Page 10