We arrived here at the docks, and there was, of course, no beast in sight.
The tweet had been mostly ambiguous about detail—if the beast was out of the water or in the water, it hadn’t said. But since the tweet was the most recent eyewitness account, we’d had to follow it. The other eyewitness sightings had also placed the beast in this general area, though the most recent ones had said that it was hiding out between warehouses, not in the water. But when we walked around, we saw nothing really out of place, and I assumed that a gigantic monster-type thing would probably knock over some crates at the very least, or leave a trail of water behind it. But there was nothing.
Maybe people were getting spooked? Eyewitness accounts, police usually say, are almost always less than reliable.
But I still thought it’d be pretty hard to mistake seeing a monster out and about on dry land.
“How long do you want us to stare at the water, Virago?” Carly quips, but Virago shrugs her shoulders easily, sighing out.
“It’s difficult to judge. You do not have to wait with me, my friends.” Her jaw clenches and flexes as she swallows, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry that I may have brought you on a merry goose chase. I just need to find the beast,” she whispers now. “Before he hurts a single soul. I will not let that happen. Not on my watch.”
There were hundreds of eyewitness accounts of the beast today. Most of them saw something out in the water, which is causing a flurry of “Loch Ness Monster?” questioning on social media web sites like Twitter and Facebook, and just as much speculation on the public access news station’s comment threads. Three or four people (the most recent before the tweet that Carly received) supposedly “saw” him out of the water, and even then, they couldn’t corroborate their story with anything specific, only thought that they saw a shadow moving between buildings down here by the docks.
So, probably, all clues considered, the beast is probably still in the water. Which is like trying to find a needle in a haystack.
And still, Virago feels responsible that we’re not finding it.
“It’s all right,” I tell her soothingly, reaching out to touch her arm with gentle fingers. She glances sidelong at me with a relieved expression. “We’ll find him,” I tell her adamantly.
I mean, of course we’ll find him. There’s never been a part of me that thought we wouldn’t. She glances out at the water with grim resolve and a nod, and for a moment—just a moment—I let my eyes trace the curve of her chin, her jaw, her cheek. I watch her unabashedly, gaze at her like I’m memorizing her.
And maybe I am.
“Oh, shit, I’ve got to take this,” mutters Carly, almost dropping the camera in the ocean as she drags her smart phone out of her back pocket and glances down at it with a frown. “It’s Deb. Be right back.” She sets the camera down on the concrete we’re standing on and sprints away, holding the phone up to her ear, pressing her palm to her other ear, and already muttering a greeting into it.
God, what terrible timing.
Virago and I are alone. And my heart’s already beating too quickly, my palms are already too sweaty, and my mouth is as dry as a desert.
The wind off the bay sweeps over us, bringing the fresh, salt scent of the ocean with it, pushing away the overpowering smell of fish from the docks. The soft wind moves through Virago’s hair, her high ponytail that—while it no longer sports a wolf’s tail—is still soft and fine and ink-black, looking velvety enough that I want to reach up and touch it, run my fingers through her hair just to see what it would feel like against my skin.
Virago, glancing out at sea still, clenches her jaw, sighs out quietly as she shakes her head and rocks back on her heels. She murmurs quietly: “You know, my lover would call me foolish.”
I feel the world fall away from beneath my feet. There is such a deep, sharp pain that pierces me at that moment that I’m utterly speechless. But I grapple with it for a long moment, take a few deep breaths, try to sound normal: “Oh?” I reply, coughing a little.
“Well,” says Virago, rolling back her shoulders, shaking her head a little as she widens her stance, crosses her arms, continues to rake the bay’s blue surface with her equally blue eyes. “My former lover, truly. We’ve not been together for six moons or so, since we parted ways.” Her gaze flicks to me now, one brow up as she searches my eyes. “She would tell me that I am foolish to sit here, watching the water for a beast I do not know is even there.”
I stare at her, my breath coming far too quickly in me to explain away, my mouth open. I probably look dazed, as I stand there trying to calm my racing heart, but I don’t even care as I shake my head, clear my throat again, the purest joy I’ve ever known washing through me.
Oh, my God.
She said “she.”
That’s it. That’s it. She’s gay.
Thoughts, emotions, vibrant feeling begins to spill through every part of me, and I’m grappling with all of it, but a specific thought comes to the forefront: Does that mean that all of the times I thought she was coming on to me…she actually was?
Okay, now’s not the best time to go over all of that, Holly. Think. I lick my lips, don’t have a clue what I’m supposed to reply with, so I go with my gut: “that’s not the nicest thing to say to your girlfriend,” I tell her, one brow up while inside I do an elaborate dance of joy complete with metaphorical tambourines.
Virago shrugs elegantly, her mouth narrowing to a hard line. “Elladin was always very…pragmatic. She thought that my being a knight was foolish. Too dangerous, she thought, but also a childish dream. She saw that I had a good head for ciphers and urged me to become a bookkeeper in her father’s tavern as it was steady, constant, safe work.” Virago spreads her hands, shakes her head. “I had no stomach for bookkeeping, though. I knew what I must be, knew it from the earliest of ages, knew it was in my blood and my bones to become a knight. I had to follow my heart. And Elladin did not agree with this, thought it was too fanciful to follow one’s heart. So we parted ways.”
I stand there, my nose wrinkling, as I try to imagine Virago as a bookkeeper. I fail utterly. I mean, it’d be admittedly sexy to imagine her in a poet’s white shirt, elegantly dipping a feathered quill into a pot of ink, but she’s just…not really the type. She wields a sword. She wants to slay a beast. She’s not a “sit there” kind of lady.
“Well,” I whisper, feeling my cheeks become hot, but pushing through the words anyway: “from where I’m standing you’re not foolish. You’re here because you want to help people. And that’s the best thing in the world…” I trail off, take a deep breath, flounder. I don’t know what else to say. “In my opinion, anyway,” I finish stupidly, my voice soft.
She’s casting a sidelong glance in my direction, and the corners of her mouth are pulled upwards, her full lips curving into the most beautiful smile, just for me. “That’s very kind of you, Holly,” she tells me, then.
And she reaches across the space between us, takes my hand in her own warm one, and squeezes it once, twice, gently, her long fingers folding into my palm like they fit there effortlessly. She stands, holding my hand for a long moment, a too-long moment, perhaps. Then she lets it go, and my warm, tingling hand drifts down to my side, my heart racing inside of me as she looks back out to sea, the cold ocean breezes washing over me, making me shiver, the wind playing with her ink-black ponytail and passing over her beautiful face...
“All right—I’ve got some bad news, ladies,” Carly mutters, trotting over to us with a grimace, shoving her phone back into her pocket. She shrugs, rocks back on her heels. “Unfortunately, I think we’ve been given a bad lead. There are now reports coming in that some sailing vessels a few miles out at sea are seeing a massive creature under the water. Big as a whale, they’re saying, but it can’t be a whale because it has spikes along its spine, so I’m kind of thinking that’s our little monster guy. Anyway,” she sighs, wrinkling her nose, talking fast, “Deb’s calling me in, so I’ve got to head back. I can kee
p you updated, but—for right now—beast boy seems to be out of our hands until it decides to swing back to shore.”
Virago inclines her head to Carly. “Thank you, Carly. You will keep us posted?”
Carly salutes, then smiles at the both of us. When Virago turns to look back over the ocean again, Carly gives me the cheesiest grin imaginable, and two thumbs up signs. Then she’s lifting up the camera and all but sprinting back to our car with the ancient piece of equipment on her shoulder.
“I doubt that the beast will hunt fishing vessels if it is still wounded. And even if it is not, it is not stupid,” says Virago, her blue eyes flashing. She turns to me, folds her arms carefully in front of her. “We just have to bide our time. Wait. But what of the ritual? I must think of a way to lure the beast back toward shore if only for the ritual. And it is so soon…” Worry tightens her features.
The ritual. Oh, crap. Aidan’s ritual by the coven to try and trap the creature.
Aidan. I glance at my watch and groan. “Oh, crud—we’re supposed to stop by Aidan’s shop tonight for the weekly meditation circle,” I tell Virago, jerking my thumb back to the car. “Who knows,” I tell her, uncertainty making my words soft, “maybe he can track the beast with some witchy magic or something?”
Virago’s lips twitch up at the corners, and then she glances down at the chipped concrete beneath our feet as a smile takes over her entire face. She tries to hide it but fails as she glances back up at me, her blue eyes smoldering.
“Or something,” she agrees companionably, taking my arm in a gentle hand and threading it through hers as we make our way back to the car.
From the back seat, Carly watches our interactions, barely keeping her glee to herself as she pretends to fiddle with the camera, but is not-so-secretly grinning widely and trying to hide it with her hand.
But no matter what, I’ve got to keep my head in the game. We have the beast to find. There’s Nicole and a host of other problems looming.
But still.
This moment. This moment right here is good. No matter what happens next, I’ve had this moment and all the ones leading up to it.
That has to be enough.
Right?
Chapter 11: Open Door s
“Now, everyone, take hold of the hand of the person next to you. Together, we create this never-ending circle of energy that keeps us safe in this place. Safe to explore the deepest parts of ourselves—safe to explore our own inner depths.”
I open one of my tightly closed eyes and peek at my brother. The rest of the people in the meditation circle are calmly seated on the brightly-painted wooden folding chairs in the circle, each holding the hands of the people on either side of them tightly, eyes closed, chins up, deeply breathing as they began to sink into a light meditative state.
My brother’s in rare form tonight.
I mean, he’s usually pretty theatrical about these kinds of things. He’s always told me that you need rituals and meditations to have a certain kind of production about them, full of the mystery and good energy that’s made the idea of magic survive the entire time that people have existed. He’s intoning the words now in his deep voice, softening them so that his words are light enough to follow, but still something you can let go of once you get into a deep meditative state, following your own intuition and the messages that the universe supposedly sends you.
Virago’s seated to my right, and she’s gripping my hand tightly. Much tighter than the guy to my left, the one with the short beard, whose name I can never remember. Virago’s fingers in mine make me think about things I shouldn’t be thinking about. Mainly about her reveal today that she used to have a girlfriend. A lover. A woman. Her grip is so strong, her hand warm and sure around mine that I can’t help but think about these things.
I should be trying to imagine world peace or something. But all I can think about is this gorgeous woman, holding my hand.
But the truth is that this weekly meditation circle isn’t gathered for world peace tonight. We’ve met together to try and open the portal to her world just to see if we can do it. We’re not gathered here so that I can sit and stare at her out of slitted eyes that should actually be closed so that I can start to meditate.
I cast one last, tiny glance at her, at her raised chin, at her serene profile, and then I close my own eyes again, let out the tiniest of sighs.
“I want you all, tonight, to relax,” my brother says quietly, his voice drifting in a soothing lull over us. “And I want you to imagine, in the very center of our circle tonight, a bright white circle of light. I want you to imagine a door.”
There’s a very good chance that this won’t work, my brother warned Virago. Aidan had looked so worried when he’d brought it up to her earlier, biting at his lip and trying to be as frank as possible with her as he could. But she assured him that it was wonderful for him to even try to help. That she appreciated his efforts. That she couldn’t do this alone and any help we could give her would be mightily appreciated, no matter the outcome.
And then she’d sat down in the circle with the rest of us. And Aidan, who’d already briefed his coven-members of the task at hand, had sat down at the other end of the circle and begun.
He’d begun, in fact, just like this was a regular meditation. The kind of meditation where we visualize sending good energy (usually in the form of white light we raise together) to people in hospitals or the Middle East.
But this isn’t a regular night or meditation. We’ve never, for example, concentrated on the center of the floor in front of us, visualizing a door to another world.
My heart begins to beat more quickly. There’ll be no relaxation achieved tonight.
Virago grips my hand tightly, her wide, strong palm pressed against my own, the solidity of her skin, her warmth, drawing me in, so that I’m mostly concentrating on where we connect.
No, no. I take a deep breath, try to clear my head.
I imagine a circle of white light on the center of the floor in front of us. I imagine it glowing brightly. I imagine it so bright that, even though my eyes are closed, the darkness of the room—lit by a single candle on the goddess altar behind Aidan—becomes so light, light as day in fact, that I have to open my eyes so that I can see what’s going on.
That’s strange. The room is actually a whole lot brighter than I remember it being behind my eyelids. I open my eyes just a little, now, just to take another peek.
In the center of the floor in front of us, exactly like I’d imagined it in my mind’s eye, is a circle comprised entirely of white light.
“Oh, my God,” the guy in the beard next to me whispers.
“Keep concentrating, everyone,” my brother intones, but you can tell by his enormous grin that he’s ecstatic.
I can’t believe it myself.
We did this. This isn’t some airy fairy new age imagining of sending good energy to someone who may, or may not, ever feel that good energy or have something good happen to them because of it.
This is real. This is physical. There is actual white light in the center of the floor in a circle.
It’s…real.
Virago is rising, smoothly, her hand gently unclasping a little from mine, but not letting it go. She straightens gracefully and takes two firm steps across the floor between her seat and the white light. She peers down and into the circle.
Because she hasn’t let go of my hand, I follow her rising unsteadily to my feet and wobbling over to peer down into the circle, too, and beard guy follows me. Everyone’s actually standing and coming closer now, to peer down into the white light…
But when you peer down into it, you realize that it’s not white light anymore.
It’s a portal. A portal to Virago’s world.
The portal in the floor looks a little like I’m staring down into a manhole, but I’m not…I’m staring down into another world that’s about ten feet below us. It’s night down there, just like it is here. And it also appears to be summer. There’s
tall grass on the ground, and the air is rich with the heady scent of unfamiliar flowers. It’s a meadow, what we’re looking down on. There are trees ringing it, I can see a little, off to the right—pines, by the looks of them.
But that’s really not the most interesting part. Because in the center of the portal, straight down, standing on that meadow and among those flowers, are four knights.
The only reason that I know they’re knights is because they’re wearing identical armor to what Virago was wearing when she came with the beast onto my lawn. Two of the knights standing below are women. Two of them are men. All of them have their equally long hair pulled up into a tight ponytail, with wolf’s tails hanging from each one, blending in with their regular hair. The knights wear fur capelets, and have broadswords in worn leather scabbards hanging on their backs.
And they’re all staring up at us in consternation, their mouths open in shock, eyes wide as they stare up through the portal into our world…which probably does look pretty strange to them.
“Magel?” says Virago in a hushed whisper. Then she’s shouting it: “Magel!”
“Virago!” thunders the tallest woman back. She has bright red hair that falls in waves down her back from her ponytail, and even though it’s night and quite dark wherever this is, I can still see her eyes flashing in that darkness as she raises her arm toward us. She reaches out her hand to Virago as she shouts: “have you slain the beast, sister?”
Virago lets out a small sigh beside me, but then she’s shaking her head, grimacing. “No. Not yet. There were…complications. But there is hope that within two days, the beast will be vanquished and plague us and no living creature evermore.”
“Do you have what you need to complete this task?” asks the woman—Magel, I suppose her name is. Her jaw clenches as she stares up at us. She no longer looks as happy as she did a moment ago. “Are you being assisted by knights?”
“No,” says Virago clearly, “but those who help me are just as brave and good. I will prevail, sister. I will return soon, triumphant.”
A Knight to Remember Page 15