They lay there another moment, their bodies pressed close together, and Rowan realized she was shaking. Then, lifting their heads, they faced each other, and Jude nodded. She pushed herself up to sit, and when he reached out to touch her face, she didn’t recoil. Gently, he brushed the tears from her cheeks, then let his hand linger there a moment before she pulled away.
“Is it gone?” she whispered, and he looked at her with something like hurt.
“How should I know?” he said, the edge returning to his voice, but they both knew the thing, whatever it was, had departed. She could feel it. The air was different now, thinner, normal.
“What are you doing out here?” she asked.
“The same thing you’re doing. Only you fell in a pit and I saved your life, and we lost him, so good one, Ro. Real solid work,” he said, standing up and dusting off his pants.
“You did not save my life,” she said.
“I didn’t?” he laughed, a defensive note to his voice.
“No. You clambered on top of me, and we hid together in a pit. If it had found us, we would have died together.”
“I was trying to protect you,” he said, but she just shook her head and pulled herself up to stand. He did not, she noted, offer his hand.
“Come on,” she said, climbing up the embankment.
“Where are we going?”
“We’re going to keep looking. We’re going to find where he went.”
“Rowan,” he nearly yelled. “What is wrong with you? We’ve lost him. We need to go home.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“You’re hurt.”
“I’m fine,” she said, and started walking in the direction she’d last seen Tom go.
“I’m not going with you,” Jude announced, and she turned to see that he meant it.
“That’s fine. I didn’t invite you. You followed me.”
“I followed Tom.”
“Then go back home, Jude,” she said, waving him off. “I don’t need you.”
“Don’t do this,” Jude said.
“Why not?” she said, more defiant than curious.
“Because whatever it is you’re searching for, I have a feeling it’s something that’s best left unseen.”
Rowan looked at Jude standing there in the moonlight, his chin lifted to the sky, and then she turned and headed deeper into the woods, determined to find Tom.
As she darted through the trees, the darkness closing in around her, she feared that Jude was right. She had lost Tom, but still she searched. He was out there somewhere, and she would find him.
The pain in her leg grew, and eventually she stopped. She chose a clearing near an ancient yew tree for her resting spot. She leaned against the tree’s massive, twisting roots and tried to steady her breath.
That was when she heard it. Tom’s voice somewhere far below the earth. Slowly she backed away from the tree, taking in its full breadth for the first time. She knew this tree. When she was a child, it had frightened her. Tom’s grandmother had called it a fairy tree. She said it was a poison thing, thousands of years old. Erupting from the ground in a gnarled tangle of knots and eyes, it shot up, only to spring forth like a terrible insect in a multitude of twisted twigs and branches. The farther Rowan moved away from it, the more distant Tom’s voice seemed to grow, and the tree itself seemed to whisper to her:
Death … death … death …
And then she heard it again, coming closer, moving through the trees. She was in its path. She could feel it—feel her insides begin to change, altered in the very presence of the beast. Darting to her left, she scrambled up a large rock and lay flat, her cheek pressed against its surface. She could hear it now, approaching fast. She willed herself to keep her head down, not to look, but she found that she couldn’t. It was right below her now. She had to know. She had to see. She poked her head up and opened her eyes. What she saw was so vile, the sight of it made her feel foul, dirty.
It walked upright, clicking along on legs made of splintered bone. It had teeth like great needles and eyes like the blackest of pits. It moved in a jagged way, lurching forward unexpectedly, and then suddenly standing stiller than still, so still, in fact, that Rowan could not tell the beast from the forest around it. Just when Rowan was certain it had disappeared, it would spring forth again, chattering its monstrous teeth, arms spindly as branches searching before it like spiders closing in on their prey.
The monster paused, rising to its full height, and exhaled, clouds of gray vapor issuing from between its slivered teeth. Guiding its rotten head from left to right, it appeared to be looking for something. And then in a flash, it fell down on all fours like a grossly elongated and skeletal wolf, and with a horrifying noise like the grinding of saw against bone, it pushed off and disappeared deep into the woods.
Rowan’s whole body shook. It was gone. It was gone, she kept telling herself, and she had to get home, get indoors. As she climbed down from the rock, her limbs were like rubber, and she nearly lost her grasp more than once.
When her feet touched the ground, her legs were shaking so badly that they nearly gave way. And then she was running, her ankle no longer a nuisance. It was only when she’d made it home and was safe inside that she really understood that whatever that thing out there in those woods was, it was something much more terrifying than she’d ever considered.
Tom tried to tell himself that his life hadn’t gotten wildly out of control. He tried to tell himself that any man would make the same choices he was making. He tried to tell himself that he was somehow special, that he had been chosen for his exceptional nature, and that he was therefore uniquely capable of dealing with what was clearly an exceptional situation.
Since their first encounter, he had been spending every night with Fiona, and what nights they were. In the morning, there were always parts he couldn’t remember, parts that seemed to run together, flashes of her red lips, her creamy thighs, the slope of her neck, and words that didn’t match, words from another time. And always his memory of the previous night was disjointed, as if it existed outside of time. At home in his bed, lying in the light, begging the Goddess for sleep that refused to come, his mind would run over it all, and he would see Fiona laughing in the woods, spinning around, then suddenly howling and beautiful, and then he would be totally alone somewhere he didn’t recognize, only to be back with her greeting him in the ghostly moonlight as he arrived, and then laughing while she showed him some new trick she had taught herself since their last meeting. And all the while, inside him, something seemed to be changing, twisting him, sucking the anger out of his cells and pulling it ever closer to the surface so that at any moment, he feared he might snap.
He was in the middle of the woods, near her tree, when he heard the whistle. It seemed to come from above, so he looked up. Ribbons of moonlight slipped between the trees, and he delighted in the way the snow seemed to dance through the beams. And then he felt her hands slide over his eyes from behind.
He always knew it was her because of the heat and because of her scent, that rich earthy scent she’d had since coming to him that first night. Sometimes he wondered if it had something to do with the way her feet and shins never seemed to come clean. Even when she washed, they always seemed to remain dirty.
“Guess who?” she purred into his ear, and he smiled wide, his heart nearly bursting with joy. She spun him around and there her face was, more radiant, more beautiful than ever. And then he was somewhere else—inside her tree hollow, warm and drunk on her beauty. With each passing day, she seemed to grow more exquisite. She smiled at him, and instantly, his body was on fire. He was suddenly awake, out of his daze, everything crisp and clear like it never was back home. He kissed her, and she pressed herself against him.
“I’ve missed you,” she said.
“It hasn’t been all that long.”
“It’s too much for me,” she said, smiling up at him with those limpid eyes. “I don’t know what to do with myself
when you’re gone.”
“Then come with me,” he whispered, burying his face in her neck, her hair.
“You know I can’t do that, Tom. This is my home now. But maybe, somehow it could be yours too.”
He held her face in his hands, and in that instant there was nothing more precious to him in the world. And then she paused and held a finger to her lips. “Quiet,” she whispered, pointing to the forest above them. “Someone’s up above.”
He moved to ask what she meant, but Fiona held her hand to his mouth. And then he heard it as well—the beast, Fiona’s beast—that thing he could never completely see, and yet which always seemed to be nearby. Sometimes it looked like the snow through the trees, sometimes like jagged bones, and sometimes it looked like death itself.
“It’s safe now,” she said, removing her hand from his mouth and kissing him. “The girl is gone. Come on.” She pulled him to his feet. “There’s something I want to show you, but first you must close your eyes.”
And then they were up in the woods again, and though his eyes were closed, he knew they were moving through the trees, through the night. After they had walked for a while, Fiona told him he could open his eyes. He stood a moment staring ahead of him before he understood where he was. The air seemed to swirl around him, so cold and yet always bearable in her presence. In front of him stretched the icy expanse of Seelie Lake, laid out below Cairn Hill and Lover’s Leap like white silk. It looked magical, somehow more real than nature had ever seemed to him before. It was as if the lake from his childhood, that lovely creature so filled with possibilities, had returned to him more beautiful and mysterious than ever.
He started laughing, though he wasn’t sure why.
“Isn’t it wonderful?” she asked, smiling like a child. “I had no idea it was here. And wait, here’s the best part. You have to see this.”
And with that, she let go of his hands and ran out onto the ice, and her bare feet sliding across it, she twirled until she fell down. Panic rose in Tom’s heart, and he reached out to her.
“Don’t!” he yelled. “The ice might give.”
Fiona laughed and pointed to the ice below. “Look at them, Tom. Just look at them!”
And then he saw—swarming beneath the lake’s frozen surface, spiny teeth and monstrous eyes, circling, hungry hands clawing at the ice from below. The water nixies, real as the night, thirsty for blood. But they couldn’t be real. They just couldn’t.
“Fiona,” he said, trying to remain calm. “Please come away. I think you might be in danger.”
“Because of them?” she laughed, tapping the ice to provoke the terrible nixies. “They’re so hungry, aren’t they? But the ice won’t break, and it’s fun to tease them.”
Tom took another step toward her. “Please, Fiona. Come away from there. Those things, they’re monsters.”
She smiled, a shy kind of smile. “And what do you think I am, Tom?”
He closed his eyes, once again convinced this all had to be part of a terrible dream, and then she was laughing.
“My pet fears them too,” she laughed. “But then, water is not his domain. See him over there between the trees? He doesn’t dare come out on the ice.”
Tom turned to look where she pointed, but he saw there only darkness and slivers of snow.
“Come on, Tom, please try it. It’s magical, isn’t it?” she crooned.
Staring at her, so beautiful, he felt a fire rise in him, and he realized he couldn’t disobey her if he tried. He walked out to meet her, the nixies surging toward him as he did. He tried to ignore them there below the ice, to focus on Fiona. Sliding across the silvery whiteness, she twirled and danced into his arms. He kissed her.
“You have to try it,” she bubbled. “Take off your boots.”
“I can’t take off my boots. I’ll freeze.”
“Come on,” she teased. “Don’t be afraid. You’re with me now.”
“Yeah,” he said, smiling down at her face, which at that moment was as lovely as a summer rose. “A lot of good that will do me when I’ve lost a toe.”
“Don’t be like that,” she said, and crouching down, she began to untie his laces.
“What are you doing?” he protested, but he didn’t try to pull himself away.
In a moment, she had his boots off, and then his woolen socks, and his naked feet were planted flush against the frozen lake, the cold sinking into every crevice, and yet there was no pain. There was only delight at the extremity of the sensation.
Taking his hands, she pulled him across the ice, and together they began to spin.
“It doesn’t hurt,” he said, surprised.
“Of course it doesn’t,” she said. “I’ll never let anything hurt you.”
And he knew that no matter what happened, no matter what the truth of the situation might be, that a part of him would always be out there spinning on the ice with her. The moment itself seemed to fill his veins, and he knew that she would be inside him. Always and forever. After feeling like this, there was no going back.
14. THE WHEEL OF FORTUNE
ROWAN DID NOT sleep that night, and at first light, she found herself at the inn, asking to speak with Jude. Elsbet was still in her dressing gown, and it was clear that the sight of Rowan unsettled her.
“I’ll go get him, dear. The boys are sleeping for sure,” she said, the lie evident in her eyes, and Rowan wondered where the woman thought Tom could be spending his nights.
A few minutes later, Jude appeared on the stairs.
“Hi,” he said, his eyes wide. “I’m glad to see you’re still in one piece.”
She moved close to him, and without meaning to, she found that she’d taken his hands in hers.
“I saw it, Jude. I saw the beast.”
His mouth opened, but it was clear he had no idea what to say.
“It was so close I could have reached out and touched it,” she recalled. “It was enormous—I’d say three men tall, and awful. Just awful, Jude. I’ve never seen anything like it, even in nightmares. And the way it moved—it tore through a huge swath of forest, and yet it didn’t seem to break any branches or destroy any foliage. It’s like it was there but not quite of this realm.”
Jude ran a hand through his hair, concern creasing his features, and then he seemed to decide something. “Come with me,” he said, and without thinking twice, Rowan followed him up the stairs to his room. Once he’d closed the door behind him, he sat on his bed and stared at her intently. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
She took a seat at the end of his bed, and he shifted to face her, and suddenly she realized she was nervous to be so near him. Not her normal anxiety stemming from anger and frustration—it was something else. When she looked at him, he seemed somehow different—this strange, hard boy now curiously gentle—and she began to wonder about him, about who he really was.
“You must understand,” he said quietly. “I’m telling you this in absolute confidence. Whatever differences there exist between us, you must put them aside for the moment. I need to know that I can trust you.”
“You can trust me,” she said solemnly.
“I also need you to trust me,” he said, meeting her gaze.
“What do you mean?” She cocked her head.
His eyes were wide, insistent. “I know your father doesn’t believe in forest things and witch powers, but I do. I’ve seen proof of such things myself.”
“You have?” Rowan asked, moved by his seriousness.
“I have,” he said, and his eyes lingering on hers, Rowan noticed they burned with a strange intensity. “These woods are my woods. I’ve spent a lifetime in them, and I’ve seen things that would amaze you. But you needn’t just take my word for it. After what you saw last night, surely you must doubt your father’s skepticism. I know you were brought up not to believe in any of this, but I’m asking you please, for just a moment, to put your prejudices aside and to consider the possibility that you and your father might be
wrong.”
Looking at Jude, she couldn’t help but trust him. In truth, her heart had always strained against her father’s beliefs. Deep down, she’d always sensed the magic in the woods, and she’d shunned the witches not for their deceptions but for their powers—powers she feared they truly did possess. She’d fought her instincts out of deference to her father, but of late, her father had become a stranger to her, and as much as it pained her to do so, she had to admit to herself that at this point she trusted Jude more than she trusted her father.
“I believe you,” she said finally. “How can I not? After what I’ve seen, how could I deny that there are things in this world beyond my comprehension? But the witches, Jude, they frighten me. I’ve always avoided Mama Lune, and then the other day, she accosted me in the village. After a lifetime of ignoring me, she walked up to me as if we were old friends. She wanted to tell me again about her visitor—about Mama Tetri. She said … she said that Mama Tetri knew my mother and my uncle—that they’d grown up together.”
“Really?” he marveled. “And you didn’t know that?”
Rowan shook her head, and suddenly she thought she might cry. “It was the first I’ve heard of it. She told me that Mama Tetri came to Nag’s End to say sooth when my mother was pregnant with me. I know that my father would never allow such a thing, and yet … when she spoke the words, I believed her. I feel like I no longer understand the world. What’s happening, Jude? Do you understand what’s happening?”
Jude sighed. “I can’t say that I understand it, but I can tell you what I know.” He paused to scratch his head. “Rowan, do you know what a Greywitch is?”
She raised her eyebrows. “I know what they were. They’re all dead now, aren’t they?”
He nodded, seemingly collecting his thoughts. “Well, they’re supposed to be. Everyone thinks they are, but Mama Lune told me that she saw something that convinced her otherwise.”
“What did she see?” Rowan asked, shocked.
“She said she saw Grey magic,” he said.
“She saw magic? What does that even mean?”
The Glass Casket Page 18