Myth and Magic

by Mae Clair

  * * * *

  The locks at the lodge were changed by evening, the new keys limited to the Breckwood family, Veronica, and Lew. She spent the night at her apartment making an amaretto cheesecake for Sunday’s get-together while Caith camped out in her small living room. Nothing eventful happened and by Sunday afternoon she was on her way to the Breckwood home with Caith for a family dinner.

  From the corner of her eye, she watched him drum his thumbs against the steering wheel. “I wish you’d stop fidgeting. You’re making me nervous.”

  “Huh?” He spared a distracted glance.

  Veronica chuckled. “You look like you’re going to your execution.”

  “Close enough.”

  The afternoon was going to be awkward. She felt bad for Caith, thrown into family socializing after a dozen years on his own. Derry, who’d stayed at Aren’s farm the previous night, was coming with his aunt, uncle, and cousins. Judging by the cars parked in the driveway, the entire group was already there when they arrived. Even Galen and Balin, who each had driven separately, beat them. Caith had been gone so long, she wondered if he knew whether or not Galen and his wife had divorced. It would be awkward if he mentioned her. At least Galen had started to date again over the last year.

  “You do know Galen and Bridget are divorced now, right?” she asked as they walked up the circular drive to the house.

  “Aren told me. Can’t say it surprises me.”

  “Caith.”

  He shrugged. “He’s reserved, too focused on business.”

  “He’s reserved with everyone. It’s his way.”

  They stepped onto the porch, and she got the impression he was no longer listening. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he stared at the front door as if undecided whether he should ring the bell or just go in. The decision was made when Derry burst outside giggling, Noah and Matt on his heels. Stuart charged behind them with a deep guttural roar.

  Caith stumbled backward to excited cries of “Dad!” and “Uncle Caith!” Veronica barely had time to sort through what was happening before the boys were dancing around her, too.

  “Ron, Grandpa’s a monster.” Noah tugged on her sleeve, shrieking with delight as Stuart made a false lurch to catch him.

  Dropping his monster persona, Caith’s father straightened with a grin. “Everyone else is in the back. Thought we’d keep it informal and do a cookout since it’s so nice.”

  Veronica tried to relax, but it was difficult with Caith so tense. A cookout was just what they needed to put everyone at ease.

  “Dad.” Derry tugged on Caith’s sleeve. “Grandpa said I can help him grill later. Come on. I’ll show you where everything is.”

  After an initial bout of awkwardness, Caith seemed more relaxed as the hours progressed toward dinner. There was barbecued chicken, lean steaks, and fat hamburgers, all prepared in a mammoth outdoor bricked-in grill. A multitude of side dishes included hot potato salad, grilled vegetables, and plump sweet potatoes baked in foil.

  After dessert, Balin disappeared in typical teen fashion, saying he had plans with his friends. Veronica sat with Morgana and Melanie on the glassed-in back porch, each with a cup of coffee. Outside, Caith tossed a small football with his son and two nephews while Stuart, Aren, and Galen fiddled around the grill. Merlin perched on the end of a stout redwood picnic table, looking chic and bored in designer khakis and an oyster-colored cardigan. There was little talk of BI or the troubles plaguing the lodge. It was a day for family and relaxing.

  Because the weather remained mild, Morgana cracked a window. Within moments, the outside voices filtered indoors.

  “Dad, catch!”

  Veronica grinned as Caith made an elaborate show of catching the mini-sized football Derry lobbed to him. Bright orange with marshmallow white bands, it had nubby raised plastic where the stitching should be. Backing up slowly, he tucked it beneath one arm, giving Noah and Matt ample time to wrestle him to the ground. Within seconds, Derry joined them, and the three boys pinned him flat on his back. There was giggling and shrieking as Caith clawed free, catching first one boy and then another, spinning them upside down. When all three were clear, he allowed them to knock him down again.

  Hearing the commotion, Aren glanced over his shoulder. “Look at that. Someone actually knows how to keep Caith in line.”

  “You’re next.” Caith tossed him the football.

  Before Aren had time to blink, all three boys barreled down on him, giggling and laughing. Aren played along, jogging into the yard, the bright orange ball tucked under his arm. Caith tackled him from behind, taking him by surprise, and the boys hooted in delight. All three piled on the two men and soon all Veronica could see was a tangle of arms and legs.

  “I love hearing that laughter.” Morgana propped her chin in her hand, gazing wistfully out the window. “Do you realize this is the first time in twelve years I’ve had my entire family together?”

  Veronica and Melanie exchanged an uneasy glance. “Now that Derry and Stuart have met in person, I’m sure Caith will be more open to visits,” Veronica ventured. “It’s going to be hard to keep Derry away from his grandfather.”

  “Caith indulges that boy terribly,” Melanie inserted. “If Derrick wants to see Stuart—”

  Morgana shook her head. “Anything to do with his father has always been Caith’s sticking point. I used to plead with him to bring Derrick to Coldcreek, but he wouldn’t hear of it. It’s such a shame. Caith and his father were so close when Caith was a child, but Stuart took it badly when he changed his name. I don’t think Caith realizes how hurtful that was to his father.”

  “But you know why he changed his name,” Veronica insisted.

  Before anything could be said, another shriek of childish laughter came from outside. The three boys had retreated to the edge of the patio while Caith and Aren closed on Merlin. The impeccably-dressed Breckwood brother suddenly found himself the recipient of the football.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Merlin warned from his perch on the picnic table.

  Realizing he was in trouble, he lurched into the yard, but wasn’t fast enough to escape the inevitable. Caith caught him, tackling him low on the legs, and Aren piled on top of him. Merlin went down with a grunt.

  “Get off!” he demanded. “Do you have any idea how much this sweater cost?”

  Still holding him down, Caith exchanged a grin with Aren. “A couple of bucks?”

  “Maybe even as much as that smelly aftershave you wear,” Aren added.

  “Off!” Merlin threw his weight into the effort, breaking free. Springing angrily to his feet, he looked down at his chest. Grass and dirt smeared the front of his sweater in grungy, vivid streaks.

  Caith burst out laughing.

  Grinning maniacally, Aren slung an arm over his shoulders. “I don’t know, Caith, he looks mad. We might have a problem.”

  “Problem, my ass.” Merlin lifted his head, the look in his eyes sending the other two backpedaling into the yard.

  “Come on, Merlin.” Caith’s grin was wicked. “You could start a new fashion trend. Designer dirt for executives.”

  “You really want me to kick your ass, don’t you?”

  Aren hooted at the boast, looking delightedly between the two. Off to the side, Stuart and Galen stopped to watch the exchange. Caith raised a brow. “Think you can?”

  Veronica caught something in his stance that went back to their childhood. The taunt was directed at Merlin, but the look in his eyes and the shift of his body sent a different message. A message that made them coconspirators in a silent plan.

  “Oh.” She covered her mouth with her hand, hiding a smile. “Aren’s in trouble.”

  “What do you mean?” Melanie asked.

  The silent communication that once flowed so effortlessly between brothers as children still worked as adults. With simultaneous battle cries, Merlin and Caith launched themselves on Aren. Completely taken by surprise, h
e went down like a stone. Popping from the tangle of tumbling arms and legs, the football rolled clear. Merlin scrambled free and scooped it up.

  “Galen,” he yelled. “Get Galen.” And suddenly the football was flying through the air to be caught by a stupefied Galen.

  Stuart wandered inside as his oldest son was bodily dragged into the fray. As the four tussled in the yard, Stuart raised his arm over his head and propped it against the glass to watch with a wistful grin.

  “You should have stayed out there,” Morgana said.

  He shook his head. “Let them have fun. When’s the last time you saw all of them together acting crazy? Galen’s so mired in work he rarely smiles, and Merlin never has a hair out of place. It’s good to see them acting foolish, behaving like brothers.”

  Eventually the rough-and-tumble dissolved into a game of pass-and-tackle with a regulation football Aren found in the shed. Caith teamed with Aren, and Merlin with Galen. Veronica was never sure who won but added her voice to Derry, Matt, and Noah’s cheering section. The air got colder the closer it grew to dusk. After a time, the windows were closed, and the adults retreated inside. Derry and the twins continued to play in the yard, breaking out glow-sticks and rolling in piles of leaves.

  Caith located a bottle of spring water in the refrigerator, drank most of it holding the door open, then carried the remainder into the family room. “Nice dinner, Mom.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek, then sprawled in a plush easy chair.

  “Did you tell your father?”

  He shrugged, taking a sip from the bottle. Soon after the game had broken up, Galen left citing business, and Merlin followed. Aren and Melanie were off somewhere with Stuart, leaving Veronica with Morgana and Caith in the family room. “Maybe later.”

  Morgana sighed with a mother’s longsuffering patience. “Caithelden, talk to your father. The two of you have danced circles around each other all day.”

  “Don’t start.” His gaze flashed to her face. “It’s been a nice day, Mom. I didn’t expect it to be, but it was. Can we leave it at that?”

  Sensing a need to intervene, Veronica cleared her throat. “Morgana, did you get a new key to the lodge? Lew had the locks changed yesterday.”

  She nodded. “He dropped some at the house. I still can’t believe anyone could do something as hideous as that mess in the lobby. And that horrid dummy!”

  Caith hooked an ankle over his knee. “I know all about hideous,” he said quietly.

  Veronica shifted uncomfortably, never expecting he would insert Trask’s death so casually into the conversation.

  As if sensing what she was thinking, he shook his head. “I’m not talking about Trask. You don’t spend the number of years I have as a cop and not see gruesome firsthand. At least whoever’s behind this has limited it to vandalism and threats, nothing violent.”

  “So far.” Morgana looked worried. “Veronica, I don’t like you staying at the lodge after what happened. Maybe we should get you a place in town until this is sorted out.”

  If she didn’t know Morgana better, Veronica would have thought Caith put his mother up to the suggestion. She sent him a sideways glance, and he arched a brow as if to say, “See? She thinks so, too.”

  “I’ll be fine, Morgana. The locks have been changed, the basement’s padlocked, and Caith’s there. Besides, if the goal was to make BI close the lodge, that’s already been accomplished.”

  Caith sat forward, lacing his hands between his knees. “The association with Warren Barrister bothers me. I picked up a book and tried to find some information online yesterday at the library, but the accounts of his life vary.”

  “That’s usually the case with legends and myth.” Morgana warmed to the subject as she did with anything involving shadowy half-truths and folklore. “You won’t find this in most books, but Barrister was a Tolar. There was a great deal of them at that time.”

  Veronica exchanged a glance with Caith. So the Tolar connection was true. If a cult had existed in Coldcreek in its early days, could there still be stray followers of the religion even now?

  “Wasn’t that some kind of sect?” Caith asked.

  Morgana curled her legs onto the sofa with surprisingly fluid grace for a woman in her sixties. “Yes. It’s antiquated, but I believe there are still followers who practice it today. When Coldcreek was young, Tolars made up the majority of the population. Their belief system revolves around a prophesied leader, rising from a magical lake to lead the world to peace and prosperity.”

  “Stone Willow.” Caith grimaced. “I can’t believe any sane person would buy into that.”

  “Warren Barrister did. It was the reason he had all those secret passages built into his house. So he and other Tolars could come and go without being seen. He went mad eventually, waiting for something to happen that never would. That’s why he killed his family. The children as they slept, his wife when she tried to escape to the lake.”

  “What a lunatic.” Caith raked the bangs from his eyes. “I’ve seen the lake change. Once.” He sent a self-conscious glance to Veronica. “But that can be explained by variations in atmospheric pressure and temperature drops.”

  “No, Caith.” Morgana shook her head. “BI has commissioned countless studies of the lake, and no one has been able to explain its fire-like properties. Scientific teams from all over the country have studied it without success. Personally, I prefer it that way. The lake is an anomaly. There are few people who have ever seen it change, so count yourself lucky.” She paused, a sly smile touching her lips. “There’s another legend that has nothing to do with the Tolars. According to that one, if you see the lake dance with fire, you’ll find your true love before the sun rises on a new day.”

  Veronica grew warm. True love? She wanted to scoff at the ridiculous notion. Maybe she’d found hers that magical night, but Caith had run off, tumbling another girl into bed a few weeks later. So much for true love and antiquated folklore.

  He shifted, refusing to look at her.

  “Dad!” Derry burst into the room with a shout, startling her with his abrupt entrance. Immediately, he zeroed in on Caith. “Uncle Aren and…and Noah and Matt and Aunt Melanie have to leave but-but—” He talked so fast, he tripped over the words, his face flushed, bits of grass snagged in his tangled black curls. “Grandpa says I can stay here.” He leaned into Caith’s lap, planting his forearms on his father’s knees. “Can I, Dad? Can I stay here tonight? There’s no school tomorrow. It’s one of those days teachers have off.”

  “An in-service day.” Caith pulled a piece of grass from his hair. “We’ll see.”

  “Puh-leeze?”

  “I said we’ll see.”

  Soon after, Aren gathered his family and left, calling it a night. Veronica expected Caith to do the same, but he surprised her by staying. Clearly pleased that he’d chosen to remain, Morgana talked at length about the lavish Halloween party scheduled a few days away, and how she expected them both to be there. In costume. Caith frowned, but didn’t contradict her.

  Across the room, Derrick plopped on the floor in front of the big screen TV. Instead of watching, he chatted nonstop with his grandfather over everything from how he was going to be a cop someday to the werewolf costume he planned to wear for Halloween, and how much he hated peas but loved cherry popsicles. Eventually, he tired, worn out from the day’s excitement. Yawning, he climbed into the large chair with his father, curling against Caith’s side. He was asleep in a matter of minutes. Without his constant chatter, the conversation lagged.

  “He’s pretty worn out,” Veronica observed with a smile. She liked the way he curled so snugly against Caith, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

  “He had a full day.” Caith slipped a finger beneath Derry’s bangs, sweeping them from his forehead. “It’s getting late. I better take him upstairs if he’s spending the night.”

  It was something Veronica never expected to happen. Although Caith and Stuart ha
d barely spoken to each other over the course of the day, she felt they’d gained common ground through Derry. She was proud of Caith for the effort he’d made, not only with Stuart but his brothers as well.

  And, ohhh, she was attracted to him! That was the downside. Seeing him roughhouse on the grass with his nephews, son, and brothers, made him terribly endearing. He’d been relaxed, part of a family again. She loved that image and wanted to hold onto it forever.

  Keeping an arm around Derry’s shoulders, Caith stood, slipping his other arm beneath the boy’s knees. Derry woke with a sleepy grunt as Caith lifted him. He shifted, wrapping his arms around Caith’s neck, resting his head on his father’s shoulder. Already accustomed to his highly-charged personality, Veronica found it amusing to see him so quiet and subdued.

  Caith grinned. “Time for bed, partner. You can sleep here tonight, okay?”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  Veronica barely heard Derry’s sleepy reply.

  “Your old room will be fine,” Morgana told her son as she followed Caith toward the stairs.

  “I’ll get extra blankets in case he needs them,” Stuart said, trailing behind. Together the three of them left, fussing over Derry.

  Veronica smiled.

  With a little imagination, it was easy to envision them a family.

  Chapter 13

  The lodge felt strange without guests. Rooms were dark and vacant, the corridors draped with sinister shadows. Despite her initial reluctance to have Caith looking over her shoulder, Veronica was glad he was there. Even so, she felt guilty when he dragged blankets and a pillow into her living room, piling them on the sofa. Still fully dressed, she watched from the doorway of her bedroom.

  “I’ll be all right if you sleep in your suite tonight.”

  “No.” Caith spoke over his shoulder, his back turned as he arranged blankets, folding them at the foot of the couch. “Two floors away won’t cut it in the event of a problem. I’ll stay here.”