“I thought the islands...”
“They are important too, but by comparison, they are no more than a playground, a place for a few of my kind to take any form they desire. The world still has some isolated places, so the islands are not as important as you’ve been led to believe. Seoladán is the Fae word for conduit—it is also an Irish term with the same meaning. The Seoladán is a conduit between different parts of our world and the physical world. The conduits are connected to one another, and each has an entrance—a portal. There are similar places to the one at the Weald on each continent, and each is accessed by a portal. They were created by the Fae, and before man began to spread to every imaginable surface of the physical world, they weren’t particularly important. But now, with people everywhere, they are extremely important. In our natural form, it is a passage. My kind can travel through any one of them to any other in moments. It might be helpful for you to think of it as a Naeshura highway.
“That is what Gavin used to escape. He would certainly have been destroyed had he tried to leave like Sara did—slow, cumbersome and easy to track. While Ozara could have followed him into the passage, she wouldn’t have been able to follow him through it. The moment he entered, he could have gone anywhere, but now he must avoid the portals. None will be left unguarded. By avoiding them, and avoiding you, he may never be caught.”
I felt a small sense of relief, though I was still worried about him.
“The portal is a doorway, like the fairy circles I read about.”
“Fairy—I loathe that term,” he said in disgust.
“Sorry.”
“No, quite alright. Conceptually, you’re not far off. We typically don’t mark the portals so obviously, and when we do, we don’t mark them with rings of mushrooms—at least not in millennia. There is no need. It is impossible to use them in physical form. However, the one in the Weald Fea is marked. It is also among the oldest in the world.
“The Fountain?”
“No, too wet. Ironically enough, it’s in the well.”
I searched my memories and I didn’t remember seeing one.
“It’s a small brick and stone well with a timber roof and slate tiles—terrible place for a well, on top of the hill—never holds water.” He smiled again. “But a great place to mark a portal. My idea.”
“Why do it there, have Frank and Vita build a cottage in such an important place.”
“They were unaware of our existance, and both were gardeners, like so many of your family.” He paused and smiled. “As much as my kind was enthralled with the cottage garden that Lola created, I thought it a good idea to build one at the Seoladán—a tribute to its significance. As it turned out, your family’s contribution to the area was simply amazing. While it is in ruin now, the garden at the Seoladán rivaled and perhaps supassed Lola’s. No one enjoys it now, I imagine. The images in your mind are a travesty. Only one creature in the world is twisted enough to find comfort there now.”
“Billy, what alignment are you?”
He smiled. “Can’t you guess?”
“Fire would be my first guess, but you heal the cats, so I don’t know. You could be Earth.”
“Go with your intuition.”
“Fire. So what is it with Fire Fae and big cats. Gavin reminds me of a jaguar, Danny Johns a lion, and you, you remind me of a leopard.”
He smiled a fifth time. “That’s a wonderful compliment. I have completely forgiven you for using the F-word. Many people have made a similar connection to Fire aligned Fae and large predatory cats. So much, in fact, that big cats are often the symbol of Fire. But why, I don’t know. There’s just something about us I suppose.”
Though more relaxed with me, he was still a little on the aloof side. I decided to push my luck anyway.
“Billy, are you going to be my Treoraí?”
His face grew stern again and he stared at me.
“I haven’t decided.”
“Please, I don’t trust the Seelie.”
“Usually, it’s the Unseelie that people don’t trust,” he said, studying me again.
“I don’t trust them either, but I don’t agree with the Council’s decision. If you’ll forgive the crass language, I’m completely pissed that Chalen escaped unscathed after all he did.”
He studied me again. “You are a paradox. You hide your emotions and shield the images in your mind, you’re on your way to becoming the first Maebown in two millennia, and you don’t trust the Seelie Council because of a decision they made under an edict that I’m certain you understand. Yet you seem to be genuine.”
“I will consider it,” he said, after a long pause. “You, however, need to think more clearly about your actions in the future. I’m surprised the Council allowed you to stay after you used your considerable abilities against the Unseelie. Most impressive, especially for someone who hasn’t taken the Water trial.”
“I’ll be careful.”
“You had better be.” He paused for a moment. “If you are removed from the Weald, it is likely that Ozara will compel you to forget your abilities, to forget everything about the Fae.”
“What?” I’d never considered it or knew it was possible. None of them told me, either. It made perfect, terrifying sense. The thought of being forced to forget was nearly unbearable, because memories were all I had of Gavin. I stiffled my fear—the fear of losing him completely. His memory was pain to me, but it was my pain—I owned it, and I wouldn’t let it go without a fight. I couldn’t let Aunt May down either.
“I am sorry, Maggie. I thought you should know and I guessed correctly that none of them told you. I am not saying I will be your Treoraí, but I will accompany you to the Water trial—I always knew I’d have to go back to the Weald someday.”
There was a break in his stoic façade—he was sad, painfully so.
“Thank you,” I managed, after getting my emotions back under control.
“Let’s talk about your practice now.”
“Practice? Swimming practice?”
“Don’t be obtuse,” He said, exhaling.
“Ugh,” I said to under my breath, “I hate that word.”
“Your elemental practice. If you don’t trust the Seelie, and I don’t blame you, you need to practice somewhere they aren’t. Your ability to hide images and emotions is remarkable, but any of us can tell you’re doing it. If you can, you need to learn to make it more believable. It could be a truly powerful gift, and perhaps the most important you learn.”
“How do I do that?”
“It may not be possible, mind you, but I want you to visit me, here, and we’ll work on it together.”
“When are you here?”
“I’m always here.”
“Thanks, but you know...” I said, feeling playful.
He smiled. “What?”
“You’re sounding an awful lot like a Treoraí.”
The smile spread across his face, finally big enough to reveal his perfect Fae teeth.
“Get out of here. I have a rather large litter box to clean.”
The drive back into town went quickly, but the feeling of isolation came hammering back. This time I found Jason Mraz on my iPod. He always cheered me up. I knew I needed to think about something else or I’d go nuts. The first thing that crossed my mind was how unhappy it made me that Sara and Gavin had kept the Seoladán a secret. It’s not like I planned to voluntarily spend time up there where Chalen hung out like some creepy garden troll.
Leaving the Weald scared me more than ever, because now that meant having my memories erased. Gavin was still with me. Images of him flashed in my mind all the time. There were reminders of him everywhere I looked. Like he was actually here, I could see him in the seat next to me, I could hear his beautiful baritone voice in my head, and I could see his incredible smile. Just thinking about it made my knees weak.
There was no choice—I had to stay in the Weald. Even if it meant I would never see him again, I could live with that easier than not
remembering him at all. It made no sense, and I knew I was being selfish over nothing more than a memory. I also knew that if everything was erased I wouldn’t know to miss him. In my heart, though, I didn’t think my life would mean as much. The memories were mine, all of them, and I wanted each one. Especially the kiss. Awkward and foolish as it was, I’d dreamt of doing it from the moment he stepped off the stoop into the snow and flashed his wicked smile.
If I was being honest with myself, it was more than Gavin’s memory holding me here—it was everything I’d learned, too—my ability to alter the elements. I liked the person I was becoming—I was stronger than before. I had also discovered a purpose—a purpose bigger than me. If I truly was a Maebown, there was a critical reason for it. And I had made a promise to Aunt May.
TWENTY-SIX
SLOW FUSE
Everyone, except Rhonda, was at the cottage on the Fourth of July. She was undoubtedly consumed by a more pressing and important, Rhonda-centered, engagement. Mitch had a gaggle of his friends with him. He was every bit as popular as I predicted. So was I, with his friends at least. Scotty, the little redheaded boy who always seemed to be with Mitch, and Michael, the boy I met on the inflatable, competed to see who could sit next to me. They also took turns shooting dirty looks at Doug, who was to my left. Cute.
Dad had been strange all day, and showed no improvement as the evening lazily approached. Several times I caught him looking at everything—the cottage, the lake, and the gardens—with sad eyes. He didn’t say much to anyone, but when he did talk, he was oddly nostalgic and spoke in the past tense. It worried me.
After spending the first part of the evening on the patio getting pelted with Mitch’s snap-pops, we walked down to the lake. I tried to stay focused on everyone around me, but I kept drifting back to Gavin. There were painful reminders of his absence everywhere—the log where he told Caorann’s story was right in front of me.
Doug always seemed to have a way of engaging me that made all my troubles disappear. He tried again, but it didn’t work. Gavin’s departure was still too fresh. Nonetheless, he seemed to notice that a potential obstacle was gone. He gave me space, but not nearly as much as before. My reticence didn’t matter to him—he kept trying anyway. If I didn’t hurt so badly, I would have enjoyed being pursued.
With the sun setting, the temperature gradually dropped and everyone seemed to relax as it cooled off. Even Dad seemed to get better at twilight. It was another beautiful Ozark evening. The clouds on the western horizon were brilliantly lit in pinks and violets, and the sky behind them gradually blended into a deep sapphire blue. As the evening grew darker, the locusts became louder. At times, they were deafening.
At dusk, Dad and Doug set up a platform, about a hundred feet from our fire, and from it they began launching fireworks. I ignored the islands looming in the distance, keeping my back to them. I couldn’t relax, though. The Fae were everywhere and it made me uncomfortable. Most, if not all, were in physical form. Their presence was a mystery until I remembered Sara joking with me about watching fireworks. For such sophisticated beings, the Fae certainly enjoyed the little things.
It seemed Justice was the only creature that didn’t like fireworks. He lasted for two aerial bursts. He whimpered before he tucked his tail between his legs and darted up the hill to the cottage. Shortly after his departure, Doug and Dad struggled to get a big, gold-colored cylinder to light. Dad fussed about how expensive it was before they both backed up quickly. I could see, and sense, that the fuse had caught. After a few seconds, though, I also knew it had burned out—I sensed no fire. They waited a little while longer, and finally agreed it was a dud.
“No, step back, it’s about to go,” I yelled at them.
Both jumped back, and I tried to light it. I extended my mind until I could feel the cylinder, and then the burnt wick. It took no real effort, much less than I’d assumed—I had sensed the fire in each firework they shot off, and I simply recreated it down at the base. I had to make it a little hotter, but the fuse caught. The first shot fired loudly, and sent a barely visible package into the air that erupted into a giant red ring in the night sky. I knew exactly where it was before it burst, because I could see the shimmer of the energy in it just like I saw the Fae.
The more I studied the shimmer, though, the less it felt like I saw it in the usual sense. I focused again on the third shot and realized I didn’t see it as much as I felt it. When I concentrated, it shimmered. It wasn’t just the fire from the fireworks that I noticed either. I looked at the trees behind me—I could sense the energy in them as well, and in everyone at the campfire. Concentrating on the fire, I realized that I’d been watching its shimmer the entire time—there was more there than flames and glowing embers.
The hotter or more powerful the source, the easier it was for me to detect, but when I concentrated I saw the shimmer in everything. Even the rocks—I sensed the heat in those closest to the fire. Amazing. Each new firework was something for me to concentrate on. I learned more about each one as they exploded and lit the air around them. I caught a glimpse of other displays across the lake. I concentrated on them but couldn’t sense the energy that far away. My new sensitivity had a range.
* * *
As Doug and I headed out across the lake, I thought about how quickly July had flown by. In the two weeks following Independence Day, I spent most of my time on the lake, at swim practice, working in the garden, or with Billy, practicing my abilities. I’d also spent more time with Doug than ever. He was a constant companion—warm, funny and caring. He’d practically adopted Mitch as his little brother. Doug’s presence made it all the more painful that I still couldn’t put Gavin out of my mind.
Despite trying to each day, I couldn’t stop thinking about Gavin. Common sense told me that I’d never see him again, but my heart wouldn’t let go of the possibility that he’d find a way. No matter how minute or unrealistic that possibility was, I clung to it. In some ways, it would be easy to be with Doug, but I knew I couldn’t be serious about him while I held out hope for one day reuniting with Gavin. I had to let go of the thought and return to the present, to reality, where Doug was a wonderful friend but could never be any more than that.
Mitch and his redheaded friend, Scotty, were with Doug and me. Since the incident on the inflatable, I refused to allow Mitch out of my sight, and as a result, he and I were closer than we’d ever been. My reward was his smile, which did more for my mood than anything else in the world. I liked to believe that without the tragedies he’d seen as a boy, Dad would have been exactly the same.
The bright blue sky was filled with enormous fluffy white clouds and a light breeze blew out of the southwest. It was another perfect day. Doug wanted to take us to the south end of the lake. Mitch and I hadn’t been to that part. He looked forward to exploring. Me, I just wanted to get away from the Fae for a few hours. After we filled up at a marina and cruised past Horse Shoe Bend, Doug slowed the Capri and circled to the right into a wide, wooded cove. To the right stood a solitary stone building surrounded by a chain link fence. The abandoned building was really no more than a ruin. It looked like a sad, lonely place, and the graffiti covering it only reinforced that impression.
When Mitch started telling Doug and Scotty about the “fairies” who built the dam and flooded the “man’s hotel,” I realized we were at Monte Ne. It reminded me that the Water trial was only two-and-a-half months away. I shuddered. It was also a reminder of what happened to people who crossed the Fae. Seeing the ruin, and knowing that we floated above the remains of a man’s dreams, drove home just how serious it was.
The Fae weren’t satisfied with merely getting their way. For those of us who knew what really happened, Monte Ne was a haunting reminder of the utter and complete destruction the Fae were capable of inflicting. Not only could they get to your life, they could find a way to get revenge after you were gone, whether that meant flooding a valley, or sinking a city below the sea. As I listened to Mitch retelling hi
s exaggerated version of Aunt May’s story, I thought of him and what might happen if I made the wrong decision.
As if the ruins weren’t enough, I felt one of them nearby. It wasn’t in the water, so I reached out with my senses. A Fae in the form of a man stood in an upper window of the three-story ruin watching us. My gut told me it was Chalen. It didn’t look like him, but I knew better. Watching, always watching.
I hadn’t seen him then, but I knew Chalen watched us on the Fourth. I occasionally felt a Fae presence along the road—lingering in the woods—as I drove into town. Aunt May had been right—after I passed the third trial, the Unseelie began stalking me. I hated it, but I hid my thoughts like always.
After a few minutes, I suggested that we get on our way. The Fae in the building never moved. It was still in the same place when we cruised far enough away that I could no longer sense it.
I don’t remember the rest of the afternoon, except that I kept my senses spread as far as I could to detect more of them. It was a Fae-free afternoon until we got back to the Cottage. The Fae in the garden were still there, unmoved. Others moved about the Weald, and they appeared to ignore us as we tied the boat up.
Dad was home, a fact I found strange because it was only four o’clock. He wasn’t alone either. When we came through the lower garden gate, I saw a Cadillac Escalade in the drive, and Dad, with Mom at his side, was talking with several men in slacks and dress shirts. Dad saw us and said something to the men, who turned and smiled at us. At first I thought there was trouble because they looked a little like cops. As we got closer, though, the men returned to the silver SUV and pulled away a few seconds later. Mom looked sad, and Dad tried to hide his emotions.
“Who were they?” I asked as I watched the vehicle disappear past the cedars.
“They were lost,” Dad said.
I noticed Mom’s expression change when he said it—she stared at him and she looked slightly angry.
“Mom? Were they cops?”
She thought about it for a second and looked sad again. She and Dad exchanged a quick glance.
Weald Fae 01 - The Steward Page 31