Sword of Elements Series Boxed Set 2: Bound In Blue, Caught In Crimson & To Make A Witch

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Sword of Elements Series Boxed Set 2: Bound In Blue, Caught In Crimson & To Make A Witch Page 11

by Heather Hamilton-Senter


  Which means the woman in my dream might be my birth mother.

  I was almost grateful to have school to distract me. Cailleach turned out to be an excellent teacher and didn’t seek me out again. The rest of my teachers continued to call on me to answer questions and give my opinion. They weren’t the only ones to embrace the new and more visible me; kids who’d never spoken to me before were suddenly acting like my friends. I even turned down a couple of guys who wanted to “hang out” on the weekend. I didn’t feel ready for that much attention.

  Miko, Daley, and Tynan no longer bothered showing up at Eastdale—they’d all been homeschooled by Rowan and had graduated ages ago. Miko kept me up to date via text. Taliesin was disappointed I hadn’t returned. The harp was silent on any new recruits. Peter was training with Daley and the other Protectors. He’d told his parents he had football practice before and after school and was crashing with one of his buddies who lived closer. Reading between the lines, Peter and Miko were spending a lot of time together.

  By lunch on Friday, the strain of all the attention was wearing me out and I longed to be invisible again.

  Not all the time, but I could use a break.

  I paused with my hand on the cafeteria doors. Lunch was in full swing; it sounded like a pack of wild animals consuming their prey. I’d somehow disappeared for most of my life so I could probably manage it again for one lunch hour. I closed my eyes and tried to find Mom’s voice, but fluorescent yellow panic filled me when I couldn’t remember what she sounded like. Grasping for a memory, I saw her pale, frightened eyes as she hid us from the silver-haired man.

  Rhiannon, listen to me. We cannot be seen. We must be small, so very small together. Hide, Rhiannon, hide. Hide in the shadows and be still and silent.

  The words were the spell and a veil of blue mist closed around me. Opening my eyes, I pushed on the doors.

  Not a single head turned. A guy who’d asked me out just that morning bumped into me as he walked out. Mumbling an apology, his eyes slid over me as if he’d already forgotten I was there.

  Lacey entered the cafeteria from behind me. “Hey,” she said and then stopped and stared at me. “You’re doing it again. Fading or whatever.” She was still immune to it.

  “I wanted to see if I could control it, but it's getting harder. It’s strange, but I think it was something my mom did to me and now it's beginning to disappear.”

  “Makes sense. C’mon, there’s an empty table over there.”

  “I haven’t got a lunch yet.”

  “You can have mine; I’m not hungry. My mom makes great manicotti.”

  Homemade manicotti sounded good. I followed her to the table and wondered where the rest of the Bumblebees were.

  Lacey seemed to read my mind. “The girls are working on a routine. I didn’t feel up to it.” She passed me a Hello Kitty lunch bag and I suppressed a smirk because I really wanted that manicotti. Stuffed in a thermos, the pasta was squashed but tasty. I polished it off and refused to be embarrassed that Lacey was watching me while I ate.

  I leaned back with satisfaction. “Thanks. I can’t believe how hungry I was.”

  “Doing magic makes you hungry, remember?”

  I glanced around at the students who were now oblivious to my presence and shrugged. I was pretty sure I was hungry because I was still relying on fast food places for dinner and skipping most of the other meals. “It doesn’t feel like magic. I would have thought magic would feel more, I don’t know, sparkly or something.”

  Lacey smiled. “You felt something when you fought the Cŵn Annwn, didn’t you?”

  “I felt powerful.”

  She stopped smiling. Something was different about her. In just one week, she was thinner, but it didn’t suit her after all. I noticed a black tattoo peeking out from under the cuff of her denim shirt.

  “You got a tattoo? Isn’t that against the cheerleader code or something?”

  Lacey tugged the cuff back over the swirly mark on her wrist. “I can cover it with makeup when I’m in uniform.”

  I looked closer. Lacey’s hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail and her face was pale. Her eyes had dark shadows under them.

  And to be honest, she smells a little.

  “Did you get the fith-fath thing from Rowan?” I felt funny saying it; it rhymed with hee-haw. Miko had explained the rules of Gaelic and Welsh to me, but I just didn’t understand how something spelled sidhe could be pronounced shee, or how sith could be pronounced the exact same way. Baobhan sith became baavan shee, Cailleach was kaliex, and my favorite name— which was pronounced shevon—was actually Siobhan. It was maddening.

  Lacey shrugged. “I don’t need it.”

  “But Taliesin said you could be in danger.”

  She shrugged again.

  “What’s going on, Lacey?” I was pretty sure I knew the answer. Lacey McInnis would never accept not being the best at something. Maybe she’d started investigating magic on her own. Taliesin had let it slip there was a lot of information about it on the internet.

  Lacey rested her forehead against a clenched fist. “Nothing,” she sighed.

  Before I could press it, she sat up straight and stared at the door. I turned around and saw Cailleach walking towards us. Her white hair was straight the way only a flat iron can make it and she had a slim figure anyone would envy. I closed my eyes for a moment and could just barely sense the cold silver surrounding her.

  The woman stopped at our table and crossed her arms. The sleeve of her blouse pushed away from her wrist and up her arm and I saw that black tattoos in curving and knotted designs covered every inch of her exposed skin. Ice crept down my spine.

  Who needs the internet when you have the Crone slumming at your school?

  “Miss McInnis, you were supposed to meet me in the library to discuss your independent study unit. I don’t appreciate being kept waiting.”

  Lacey shuffled to her feet. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

  “See that it doesn’t. Follow me. There is still time in the lunch period to make some progress.” Without waiting for a response, Cailleach turned and walked away, high heels clicking on the linoleum floor.

  Gathering the lunch bag and stuffing it in her purse, Lacey gave me a listless wave as she left. I wanted to say something to stop her, but then I remembered how much Mom had kept from me. What right did I have to keep Lacey away from something she clearly wanted to do?

  Cailleach stood waiting for her at the cafeteria doors. Lacey paused and looked back with a strange expression on her face—almost as if she expected me to do something—and then they were both gone.

  I stayed invisible for the rest of the day so I could think in peace. Lacey could see through glamour based magic, so she must have known the truth of what Cailleach was right away. Taliesin knew the Crone was teaching at the school, but Miko said he wasn’t concerned—even magical beings sometimes need jobs. I decided that Lacey had a right to make her own decisions and it was none of my business.

  It haunted me later that maybe she wanted me to stop her.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  When I drove home, Peter’s mom was sitting on the porch of the main house and motioned for me to park. Rising to greet me as I climbed the wide stairs, she gave me a warm hug. Even though I’d known her just about all my life, I still called her Mrs. Larsen. The Larsens were formal people and older than most other parents of kids our age. Peter sometimes called them Sir and Ma’am.

  “C’mon in, Rhi. There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

  I nodded and followed her into the house. I was surprised when she went into the formal living room and sat down on the sofa. It was going to be one of those kind of talks. She must have found out Peter was lying to her. I sat down beside her and braced myself to cover for him.

  “I got a call from the school. They said you missed classes on Monday.”

  It took me a moment to remember the Larsens were listed as my guardians and of cou
rse the school would call them. I came up with the first excuse I could think of. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think to tell you. I didn’t feel well and I went home. I should have let you know.”

  Mrs. Larsen shook her head. “I’m not worried about that. But you see, it reminded me that I’ve been putting off something I need to do.” She stood and walked over to the fireplace to pick up an envelope sitting on the mantle. “It’s no secret I never agreed much with your mother’s style of parenting—you were so little when you came to us and so starved for affection.” She turned suddenly. “I don’t mean to say she didn’t love you. I’m sure she did.” Her voice hardened. “She just never seemed to show it. I never once saw that woman hold your hand or kiss your cheek.”

  There was nothing I could say to that. I had no memory of Viviane—Mom—doing those things either.

  Mrs. Larsen tapped the envelope against her palm and then crossed the room and sat back down beside me. “I’m sorry, honey, I shouldn’t have said that. It just used to make me so mad. When you and Peter became close, I thought maybe I could give you some of the affection you were missing.”

  Tears sprang to my eyes. “And you did. I love you and Mr. Larsen.”

  “We love you too, sweetheart. You know that, right?” I nodded and she handed me the envelope. Typed across the top left corner was R. Goodfellow and Associates. “Your mother and I had an argument a few days before she collapsed.” Mrs. Larsen grimaced. “Well, I had an argument anyway.”

  “What about?”

  “You. Your mother told me she knew she was dying. Informed me just like that as if there were nothing else that needed discussing except for who would take over caring for the gardens—as if that was the only thing I would be concerned about. She actually seemed surprised when I asked if we could become your guardians. She said no. I wouldn’t have argued if she had someone else in mind, but she seemed to think her death wouldn’t make much difference to you at all.”

  “But she did make you my guardians.”

  “After I threatened to contact Children’s Aid! The next day she presented me with this.” She motioned to the envelope.

  I pulled a sheet of paper out; it was another birth certificate. According to this one, I’d turned eighteen on my last birthday.

  Mrs. Larsen shook her head. “I don’t know why she lied about your age. Maybe it was a mistake she never bothered to correct. She gave me permission to take care of you for a little while, but you’re legally in charge of your own life. I’m sorry it took me so long to give this to you, but I guess I wasn’t ready to let go.” She grasped my hands and gave them a little shake. “It doesn’t change anything. We’re family and no piece of paper can take that away.”

  After twenty minutes of reassurance accompanied by chocolate chip cookies, I went home. Sitting on the couch with the two nearly identical documents on the table in front of me, I searched my memory of the years and could only come up with seventeen of them. Goodfellow did say Mom had a few copies made up. This one had been created to free me from the Larsens’ watchful eyes, but why? They’d never tried to enforce any authority over me after she died, but maybe only because they believed I was already legally an adult.

  Viviane Lynne was listed as my mother, but no father. I looked at my name printed out in duplicate and a wave of pain passed between my temples. The words on the papers in front of me seemed to writhe and crawl. The longer I looked at my name—Rhiannon Lynne—the less it seemed to have any meaning and the more exposed I felt. Acting on impulse, I picked up the certificate Goodfellow gave me and ripped it right through my name. The pressure immediately eased.

  I was just about to do the same to the other one when a thought occurred to me: even if it was a lie, the new certificate would come in handy. I didn’t have to answer to anyone if they thought I was eighteen. I was free.

  How can I be free when I don’t even know who I really am?

  After I put the remaining certificate safely between the pages of a gardening book in the book case, I felt better. Making a decision, I pulled out my phone to text Peter that I was coming and was ready to get some answers.

  As if in response, three howls echoed through the fields behind the house.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Hunting for anything that howls is a bad idea, but I ran out of the house and circled it. Nothing. I even walked over to the guesthouses, but they were locked and quiet. Convincing myself it must have been Old Tom’s collie, I put it out of my mind and went home to get ready.

  Changing into jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, I tucked the charm bracelet under my cuff. I’d been wearing it almost every day even though red irritation ringed my wrist like a burn. I also decided not to show Excalibur to Taliesin. I didn’t know why, but I wanted to keep both the charm and the sword a secret.

  Just between me and Mom.

  When I arrived at the mansion, Rowan was working in the garden and waved me over. “Did you do all this?” I asked as I admired the neat beds of shrubs and flowers.

  Rowan brushed the dirt from his hands. “I thought I would make myself useful and leave things better than we found them. It’s too late in the season to do much, but it’s still an improvement.”

  I knelt down beside him and pointed to the clump of pink, ruffled flowers he’d been clearing the weeds away from. “They’re pretty. What are they?”

  “Anemone. I’ve been helping them along.” Rowan ran his hands over them, murmuring words I didn’t recognize in a humming drone. The plants swelled and stretched to meet his palms the way a cat arches its back to be stroked.

  I gasped. “How’d you do that?”

  The tanned skin around his eyes crinkled into deep lines when he smiled. “In another life I was a druid, a priest in the religion of the Celts.” He touched a small Celtic cross on a chain around his neck. “In many ways, I still am. The earth blessed me with the power to nurture life. I may have wandered from the religion of my youth, but the abilities I developed have never left me.” Following my gaze, he lifted the cross to show me. “You’re wondering why I wear this symbol of faith.”

  “I guess I thought magic made religion irrelevant.”

  Rowan chuckled. “There are no more definitive answers to be found in magic than there are in anything else. Magic is just an ability; one as valid as a talent for singing, or painting, or fixing cars. There are Christian, Muslim, Buddhist, and Jewish magic users. There are some who cling still to the gods of the old world. There’s even a small contingent of Rastafarians among the Greylanders beyond the Wall.”

  I stared at him for a second. “You’re joking.”

  He laughed. “Yes, but I wouldn’t be surprised. All beliefs are found among us, and for all our powers, not one of us knows for sure what lies beyond the veil of death, especially those of us who have cheated it for so long. We have merely been given more time to ponder the question. Despite what some might believe, we are not gods. I have faith there is something out there greater than myself, otherwise, why endure at all if everything we know and love will disappear into nothingness?” A shadow passed over his face, but then he smiled and it was gone. “I hear you met my wife.”

  I was thrown by the sudden change of topic. “Your wife?”

  Rowan stood and offered a hand to pull me up. “Boudica. Or Bo as we call her. Tall, red hair, plenty of attitude. I think you ran into her at some bakery around town. Sound familiar?”

  I brushed the grass off my knees. “You’re married to her?”

  He laughed again. “I see she made quite an impression. She usually does. I love my wife, but diplomacy is not one of her strengths. She caught it from Tal when one of the other Protectors tattled on her about your little encounter. Tal figured that’s why you hadn’t been by.”

  I nodded. My encounter with Rowan’s wife had nothing to do with me not coming, but it seemed smarter to let them think that.

  Rowan put a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Before we met, my wife suffered a great tragedy. She h
as a suspicious nature, but she’ll come around. Try to give her a second chance, if you can.”

  I nodded and it seemed to satisfy him. As the druid escorted me inside, he called out—“Tynan, she’s here!”—before winking and leaving me standing alone in the foyer.

  Tynan bounded down the stairs “You’re here!”

  “I’m here,” I repeated.

  “Hello, Rhi.” Dressed in a black leather jacket and jeans, Daley emerged from the dining room and my heart jumped in my chest as if I’d been shocked. Considering him with fresh eyes, I wondered how any of us had ever believed he was a high school student. Miko must have helped that along with a little fairy glamour. “You shouldn’t have let Boudica put you off from coming.”

  “Yeah, well, it didn’t exactly inspire me with confidence.”

  “If you’d heard Taliesin rake her over the coals about it, you might have been reassured—but then, you weren’t here, were you.” It was an accusation, not a question.

  Tynan had edged closer to me and the way he hunched to hide his height made me feel like he was bending over me, cornering me. “It was bad. Dad stripped her of her command. Rowan thinks she’ll get it back, but I don’t know. Once Dad makes a decision, he usually sticks with it.”

  Daley’s voice was cold. “She shouldn’t. Boudica was under strict instructions to leave Rhi alone. She’s never been good at taking orders and that makes her a liability.”

  Tynan looked away. “You don’t understand her pain.”

  “It doesn’t make it OK.”

  Great. Five minutes and I’m already in the middle of a sibling spat.

 

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