by Jill Morrow
That thought only sent new spasms of fear coursing through his gut. “Do you think they made it?”
Claire’s nod was so assured that Stephen didn’t even question why he now took comfort in the words of an eight-year-old.
He eased Kat into a more comfortable position against his chest.
“Claire, can Julie rest with her head on your lap?”
“Sure. But it will look silly if anyone sees us.”
Other people. That possibility existed, too. Still, if they were supposed to bring Frannie back in the same fashion as she’d left before, they’d need to stay where they were. He wondered how time worked in this situation. Did twenty-first-century hours correspond with medieval ones?
“Do you hear anything?” Claire asked.
Stephen glanced at his watch. One-thirty. Francesca had melted into time at 2:15. Somehow, he knew that the door, which had cracked open then, would once again open for them at 2:15 this afternoon—if each and every necessary element were exactly in place.
“I’m not getting anything definite, sweetie.”
Her eyebrows, little twin question marks, remained raised. He wished he had all the answers.
“We’ll sit here a few minutes,” he managed, and Claire seemed content enough with that response.
Stephen closed his eyes again, hoping for crystal-clear directions concerning what to do next.
“Pray for protection and clarity,” he heard, and for one crazy moment, it seemed as if the words had come from Claire. When he checked, however, she sat still beside him, absently playing with Julia’s hair.
There was nothing to do but wait.
26
“H OW REMARKABLY MUNDANE,” K AT MURMURED TO HERSELF as a wall of heat enveloped her. Now, why had she said that? There was certainly nothing ordinary about the fountains of light soaring about her like an amusement park exhibit gone berserk. And the roar of wind in her ears! Really, what more had she expected from the special effects department?
She heard Julia’s gasp from somewhere on her right and reached for her daughter’s hand.
“Still with me, Julie?”
“Yes.” Her voice sounded far, far away. “Mom, how can you stay this calm?”
Good question. Kat wondered about that herself. Maybe it was because dealing with this stuff fifteen years ago had already scared her for life. Or perhaps this whole stream of events seemed too fantastic to believe, much less take seriously. Whatever the reason, Kat fought hard to banish lines like “Beam me up, Scottie” from her brain.
Suddenly, the light and noise stopped. Kat and Julia stood alone in a wood, surrounded by slender, straight trees. Soft green moss cushioned their feet. Leaves rustled overhead. Kat thought that they must have landed, but she hadn’t felt a touchdown.
“Whoa.” Julia glanced up. Kat instinctively did the same. She had never before seen such a pure, clear blue sky. The sun glowed off-center like a halogen lightbulb.
“Mom,” Julia whispered. “Are we really in medieval England?”
Kat stared at her daughter. “I assumed you’d know.”
Julia’s eyes widened. “Me? Why?”
A sickening realization began to stir. “Julia. You were the one who had the dream. Remember? The one you shared with Dad. You and Dad are the ones who know what to do. I’m just along for the ride, to help out.”
Julia slowly shook her head. “I don’t think so, Mom.”
“Oh, Julie, that’s the way it has to be!”
“I don’t think so,” Julia said again. Her voice quavered. “I don’t know anything. I’m not even sure where we are.”
“But you said that you were called!” Kat’s voice spiraled upward in the still woods. “You said you had to go!”
Julia squirmed. “I was. I did. But I don’t hear anything now. I’m sorry.”
Oh, dear God. First no Aunt Frannie. Then, just as it seemed that Stephen and Julia might actually crack the code to this mess, even that security blanket got yanked away.
Kat turned from her daughter and leaned her forehead against the rough bark of a tree. How could this be?
“But Julie, I don’t hear anything, either. I never hear anything. You know that.”
Her daughter simply stood there, waiting.
So this would be like everyday life, motherhood bolstered to the nth degree. Even in this surreal world of the supernatural, she’d need to run interference, to guide and lead where no reasonable human being would ever want to go.
There was no way out.
Kat pulled in a ragged breath. “Okay, then. Let’s try to figure out where we are. Does anything look familiar to you?”
“I’m not sure. A little. It reminds me of that last dream I had, the one where I ran away from Isobel. Remember? Isobel and Hugh were searching for white stones.”
Yes, she remembered. Kat again squinted up at the sky. The sun had inched a little closer to the horizon. It was afternoon. She wasn’t sure if that was important, but it seemed like a fact she might want to know.
Maybe they should just start walking. But where? They could start off in one direction and end up someplace totally ridiculous, totally off point. Should they just stay where they were, then? Was there an important reason they’d appeared in this particular spot?
Who knew?
She slammed her open palm against the tree. How was she supposed to know what to do?
“Mom.” Julia touched her arm. “What’s next?”
“I don’t know, Julia.”
Julia looked as if she might cry. “Try to hear. There has to be a reason you were the one sent here.”
Oh, there was a reason, all right. The reason was that this was a terrible mistake, some colossal mis-wiring of whatever the real message was supposed to be. Kat turned to face her daughter.
“Mom.” Julia licked her lips. “No offense, but how did you get through this fifteen years ago?”
Another good question. The kid was full of them. Kat slumped against the tree and furrowed her brow.
“Dad knew what to do last time,” she said.
“But you both said that he didn’t really believe in anything spiritual, then.”
“That’s true. He didn’t even believe his own messages half the time. He got them in spite of himself.” There was no denying that Stephen had been a cantankerous disaster when they’d first met. Driven by success alone, he’d seemed an unlikely candidate for any sort of enlightenment. And yet words of truth had flowed through him all the same. “Aunt Frannie helped too, sweetie. Her faith has always been so strong. Sometimes I think that she believed enough to get all of us through.”
Julia shook her head. “It’s probably more than that. The three of you were a team. You’re all a real-life example of that line in the Bible—you know, ‘Where two or more are gathered, there am I.’ ”
Kat raised her eyebrows hopefully. “Are you hearing this now?”
“No. I just pay more attention in Sunday School than you and Dad think.”
Kat rolled the phrase across her own tongue. “Where two or more are gathered…”
“Then God is there, too,” Julia reminded. “Couldn’t that be what happened fifteen years ago?”
“Well, sure, Julie. I always assumed that.”
“And, Mom, couldn’t that happen now? I mean, there are two of us here, and Dad and Claire are praying for us back at the cathedral…lighting us. Isn’t that what Aunt Frannie calls it sometimes?”
Kat opened her mouth to reply, but Julia never paused long enough to let her squeeze in a word.
“You said that Aunt Frannie had all the faith back then, and that Dad let the light work through him even though he thought the whole situation was nuts. But what did you do?”
Kat stiffened. “Nothing would have happened without me. I asked the questions that set off the whole chain of events, questions that deserved answers. A great injustice had been done to somebody I cared about. I needed to fix that.” She paused. Her tenacity had forced S
tephen to stay the course. Even though they’d disliked each other, she’d been impossible to ignore. She’d pulled him back to the task again and again no matter how hard he’d tried to escape.
“I guess I’ve always been…um…determined,” she said lamely.
Julia’s green eyes nailed her. “Don’t you think a little determination could help us out now?”
Kat groaned. Who wanted to hear one of their own lectures thrown back at them?
“Besides,” Julia’s voice dropped, “what if determination turns out to be some kind of gift, just like Aunt Frannie’s gift of faith?”
“Okay, okay.” Kat stepped away from the tree. “I’ll do the best I can.”
Fifteen years ago, she’d needed answers badly enough to push forward into a void. Even though she hadn’t understood their mission, even though she’d found every explanation unbelievable, she’d longed for justice to prevail. Her willingness to forge ahead in the name of truth had been enough to let the light work through her.
She cocked her head to one side, clearing her heart for directions. Anything would help. An internal sentence. A word. Something.
Nothing came.
She straightened up and took a deep breath. They’d have to take some sort of action. Nothing was worse than stagnation.
“Let’s walk in this direction,” she said, trying to keep her voice even.
They started toward the sun, which had already dropped a bit more in the sky. Kat strained to hear at least a confirmation that they were on the right path. No voice helped her, no words materialized in her brain.
The route before them felt sterile, like a field left fallow for too many years. Kat stopped. “I’ve changed my mind. Let’s go the other way.”
“Did you hear something?” Julia’s face brightened.
“No. I didn’t hear anything. This way just doesn’t feel…fruitful. I have to go with my intuition. It’s all I’ve got.”
Julia looked as if she wanted to argue. Then she swallowed back her doubts and fell into step beside her mother. The sun warmed their backs as they weaved through the sparse, quiet trees.
Perhaps traditional metal armor felt slow and cumbersome. Spiritual armor was quite the opposite. Francesca’s armor energized her with each pulsing point of light. Her sword burned brightly in her hand as she strode away from the priory. She moved on auto pilot now, her will surrendered and wrapped into a loving energy far greater than anything she could intellectually fathom.
Move. Walk in this direction, down this road.
It never occurred to her to disobey. She saw only her own fragile form on this worn dirt road, but it felt as if she walked at the head of a brilliant battalion of light.
She wanted to ask where she was going, what came next. She knew better. Answers never arrived before their proper moment. They remained contained, revealed only when fully ready. Patience, always hard to achieve, was more important than she’d ever cared to admit.
She raised her shield as an unexpected wind stirred up a cyclone of dust on the road.
One answer was already clear, crystal hard within her core: her search right now was not for Isobel, or even for Asteroth. She needed to find Julia, and there wasn’t much time left.
27
A WISP OF SMOKE CURLED FROM THE THICK BUNDLE OF ROSE -mary branches that Hugh had stuck upright into the earth. From her seated position at the edge of the stone circle, Isobel’s gaze followed it upward. There wasn’t much to see. The smoke vanished from view a short way from its origin, leaving behind a perfume so pungent that it almost brought tears to her eyes. Perhaps if she didn’t sit so close to the flame…she began to back away from the stones that surrounded the rosemary. “
No, Isobel.” Hugh crouched across from her. He’d made the circle of white stones so small that his knees nearly brushed against hers. “Stay close to the fire. Inhale this incense. Breathe deeply. You breathe the wisdom of eternity.”
Isobel’s nose wrinkled as she swallowed back a sneeze. She usually liked the smell of rosemary, but even though only the tip of one branch now burned, this scent was overpowering. What would happen when the flame traveled downward, engulfing the entire rosemary bouquet? Then the twigs and branches Hugh had arranged at the base of the herb would also ignite, sending smoke of their own to mingle with the rosemary needles he’d sprinkled on top of them.
Hugh drew in a deep, long breath. His dark eyes glittered. Isobel strained to see if their strange glow reflected the flame. There was no time to tell. Hugh closed his eyes and quickly passed his right palm through the tip of the flame.
“Let it be,” he murmured. “It must be.” His lips parted in silent words that Isobel could not understand.
“It will be done,” Hugh said, again passing his palm through the fire. “I command it; it will be done.” This time the fire seemed to answer, leaping higher and blazing with an odd green center. Isobel stared. She’d never before seen such a flame.
The rosemary burned brightly now, almost cheerily. The needles crackled with intense heat, but the wood had not yet ignited. Smoke drifted higher into the air, funneling into a fragrant column as it rose. Despite this, Isobel noticed that her eyes no longer stung.
“That’s right, my dear,” Hugh said. “Draw in a deeper breath. Let it fill you.”
The smoke even smelled different. Had Hugh dropped incense onto the pyre? Isobel couldn’t be sure, but the perfume seemed less invasive, more inviting. She slowly inhaled. The tendrils of smoke tickled her nostrils, but did not irritate her. The fire itself grew playful as its flame licked the wood. New colors danced upward: green, lavender, and deep blue vanished into curling plumes several feet above Isobel’s head.
She’d never before smelled such an enticing aroma. It made her think of faraway places she’d never seen, of fragrant spices from the East and rich, royal fabrics soft to her touch.
Hugh’s mouth twisted into a knowing smile. “Ah, the pleasure of the senses,” he said. “Can you not smell the wonders? Touch them? I bring you these gifts. You have been deprived for too long, shut up in the austerity of a Church that is afraid of joy. Drink this in, Isobel, for you deserve such splendor.”
As if she needed urging. The lovely aroma had become impossible to resist. Isobel closed her eyes as her breathing grew deep and regular.
“How did you know to find them here?” Gregory asked Alys.
“This is where we found them last time.” Her fingertips pressed into his arm as she peeked through the trees to the clearing beyond. He covered her hand with his own.
Isobel and Hugh sat across from each other, a small fire blazing between them.
“An evening meal, perhaps.” Alys glanced about the fire for signs of small game or fowl.
“I think not.” Gregory could not keep the troubled note from his voice. An unusual foreboding swelled within his chest. He hoped that Alys would be spared this sense of panic. “Mark the fire, Alys. Have you ever seen one quite like it?”
She studied the flame, which leapt and flickered before their eyes in colors nature had never intended. The wood beneath it did not burn. The fire seemed fueled by another source, although there was none to be seen.
Alys turned toward him, her raised eyebrows an answer to his question. Of course she’d never seen a fire such as this before. And, like him, she never wanted to see another one.
He peered through the trees. “What ails Isobel?”
Alys returned her gaze to the clearing. Isobel sat with her eyes closed, body swaying slightly as if to music no one else could hear. Together they watched as the girl’s hands rose slowly from her lap, palms upward.
“She does not seem ill,” Alys said. “She appears happy.”
Gregory’s voice was flat. “She appears bewitched,” he said, and Alys winced as the words, undeniable, hung between them.
“Lovely, Isobel,” they heard Hugh say. His voice was soft as finest velvet. He never took his eyes from Isobel’s face as his right hand reached into the
leather sack by his side. He withdrew his recorder and, with a smooth, arcing motion, raised it to his lips.
Gregory flinched as the first notes slid onto the air. He was musical, and the tones jarred his ears. They were mellow enough, well played and smooth, but somehow discordant, as if someone had decided to join songs that had no relationship to each other. The rhythm of the composition, however, perfectly matched Isobel’s sway. Her eyes remained closed as the smile on her face broadened. Obviously, the music did not jangle her senses as it did his. Perhaps the girl’s melodic sense was as lacking as her voice.
Alys stepped forward. “We must stop this at once.”
Gregory pulled her back to his side. “No, Alys, not yet.”
She turned to him, surprised. He wished he had a logical explanation for his instincts.
“It may be only my fear that speaks,” he admitted slowly, “but we know so little of this…man. They surely plan to stay here for the night. Perhaps if we watch a bit longer, we’ll gain more knowledge to use against him.”
“But Francesca said—”
“Francesca said to keep him from Isobel. If it appears we must act, we will.”
He knew her so well that he could almost hear the thoughts galloping through her head. Oh, how she wanted this episode in their lives to end! But they had no weapons, no way to overpower this evil they knew so little about. In the end she would agree with him: finding Isobel had only been part of the task. Now they needed a way to ease her from this monster’s side.
“Think quickly,” Alys said as they both sank to the ground to watch and wait.
Kat caught herself before she could trip over yet another tree root. A string of curses raced through her brain as she struggled to regain her balance. Damn this. This was not her century, not her milieu, not even her terrain. Maybe she’d have a fighting chance if they could just navigate across nice, safe pavement. It was bad enough she had to operate on intuitions she wasn’t even sure she possessed. Did she have to suddenly turn into Nature Girl, too?