“They’re nothing more than uninformed, overzealous protestors,” Rana said with a dismissive wave, deciding to direct the conversation back to Macie’s escape. “Where were you planning to go if your car hadn’t stalled?”
“The man who helped me said to drive to Spellbound Falls, but to keep going another nine miles until I came to a sign that said Nova Mare. Then I was supposed to drive up that road another mile until I came to the guard booth and ask the guard to contact someone named Julia Salohcin.” Rana looked over to see Macie staring down at her hands. “I might have worked up the nerve to steal one of the cars,” the girl said, shaking her head, “but there’s no way I could drive into some fancy resort.” Rana heard her take another shuddering breath. “I guess I’m not as brave as you are.”
Rana sputtered on a laugh. “What on earth gave you the idea I’m brave?”
The young woman looked over in surprise. “You pushed right through those people and shouted at them to leave me alone, and you even grabbed one of the men and pulled him away.”
“Only because I knew I wasn’t in any danger.”
“You were outnumbered twenty to one.”
“No, they were outnumbered twenty to one hundred pounds of lethal wolf,” Rana said with another laugh, gesturing at the backseat. “Kitalanta is the brave one in this truck.”
Macie’s eyes widened as she glanced over her shoulder. “He’s a real wolf?”
Rana nodded, leaning closer. “He likes to think he is,” she whispered, “and I don’t have the heart to tell him differently. So it will be our little secret, okay?”
Macie faced forward. “Where are you taking me?” she asked. “To your house?”
“The gentleman who helped you steal the car and told you to go to Nova Mare; was he unusually tall, with deep blue eyes?” Rana asked instead of answering. “Did he happen to tell you his name?”
“He is tall, but he has green eyes. And when he showed up at the settlement a couple of days ago, he told us his name is Dan.” She shrugged. “If he has a last name, I don’t know what it is. He may have told Sebastian.”
“Was he alone when he arrived?” Rana asked, thinking that Dante had green eyes. “Or did he show up with a friend?”
“No, just him.”
Well, Rana supposed that made sense, as the colonists might have recognized Nicholas from town, as he definitely was memorable. And since it usually took a herd of horses to drag Dante off the resort, it also made sense that he was the one Nicholas had recruited to go undercover. And knowing Dante, he wasn’t about to sit back and watch a woman being bullied even at the risk of blowing his mission.
“Dan just walked in from the main road a few days ago,” Macie continued, “and told Sebastian that he wanted to be part of what we’re doing.”
“What exactly are you doing?” Rana asked, slowing when they reached town.
“I thought we were trying to save the world. At least, that’s why I came here last summer.”
“Save the world how?”
“By trying to tap into whatever happened here four years ago and using it to stop wars and starvation and global warming and . . . and stuff like that. It was all over the Internet that an earthquake had turned Bottomless Lake into an inland sea. But when scientists couldn’t explain how or even why it had happened, some of the blogs started saying that something supernatural was going on up here.”
“Or something uniquely natural,” Rana offered.
“I suppose it could have been a plain old earthquake,” Macie said. “Anyway, I read that a group of people had started a settlement on Bottomless because they believed magic was responsible. The website said they were hoping to tap into what must be good energy, since nothing had been damaged in the earthquake, and try to harness it to save the world. And it was wonderful at first, with everyone working together for a common cause. But then it . . . only everything . . .”
“But then what?” Rana gently prodded.
“Everything changed when Sebastian showed up in January and started talking about gods.” She looked over, her nose scrunching in aversion. “You know, those mythical gods like Zeus and Apollo and Atlas? Sebastian said we needed to be better organized and persuaded everyone to elect him our leader. Or rather,” she said dryly, “he had secret meetings with the men and persuaded them to elect him. But there were several more men than women living at the settlement, so they carried the vote.”
“None of the women voted for Sebastian?” Rana asked softly.
“Most of us didn’t trust him.” Macie’s chin lifted militantly, and Rana was pleased to see that instead of fear, the woman’s eyes now held anger. “We were right, too. He made everyone start wearing these ugly ‘vestments,’ divided us into five ‘cells,’ and put five hand-chosen men in charge of each one. And then he started the rituals.”
Rana didn’t have to ask what some of those rituals might involve, since Titus had brought her in to help with the aftermath of his dealings with charismatic, egotistical leaders like Sebastian more times than she cared to recall. Yes, her un-interfering husband was also notoriously known for breaking his own rules. And if history wasn’t telling her what this modern-day cult was in all likelihood practicing, seeing her passenger protectively cup her softly rounded belly certainly did.
“Did the women not have any say in these rituals, Macie? Or were you not allowed to leave if you didn’t like what was happening?”
“Some of the women left when Sebastian was elected, along with several of the men. Everyone with kids did. I stayed because the guy I’d come to the settlement with promised me everything would be okay.” She covered her face with her hands. “Only it wasn’t. Sebastian made Johnny one of the five priests, and the power went to his head. And when I got mad and tried to leave, he . . . Johnny got . . .”
“Shh, it’s okay,” Rana crooned, patting Macie’s leg. “It’s done, and you’ll never have to go back there. Easy now,” she rushed on when the girl gasped as Rana turned at the Nova Mare sign. “I’m taking you to the safest place in the world, Macie. My daughter-in-law owns this resort, and Julia Salohcin works and lives here.” Rana gave her one last pat, then stopped at the guard house and rolled down her window.
“Mrs. Oceanus,” the guard said, doing a terrible job of hiding his joy to see her heading home as he turned and punched some buttons on his computer. “Could you make sure your resort radio is on?”
“I don’t think I have one, as this is a new truck.”
“I’m pretty sure it had one when your husband drove it down here last week,” he said, leaning out his window to look inside her truck. He smiled and pointed at the center of her dash. “It’s right there under the navigation screen. Nicholas found a company to build us radios that could be permanently installed in the trucks and limos.” He then pointed at a spot in the overhead console. “The microphone is up there. You don’t have to touch any buttons if we call you about an accident or emergency on the road; it works just like a cell phone speaker. But if you want to call us, just tap that call button,” he said, pointing down at the dash again. “Oh, and these new radios automatically come on when you start the vehicle.” He smiled again. “It’s just going to take us a while to get out of the habit of asking you if it’s on. You’re good to go then. Have a nice day, Mrs. Oceanus,” he finished, waving her on.
“Wait,” Rana said, making him turn back to her. “Can you tell me if I’ll meet very much traffic on the drive up?”
He tapped a few keys on his computer and read from the screen. “You should meet a limo in a couple of miles, a delivery truck soon after—assuming the guy didn’t stop for a cigarette break at one of the turnoffs—followed closely by a black Lexus sedan. A shuttle bus just left the summit, so if you don’t speed,” he said with a grin, “you should meet it just before the road starts getting steep.”
“Thank you,” Rana said with a nod. “Do you know if Julia Salohcin is at the resort, or is she in town with clients?”
&n
bsp; “She hasn’t come down the mountain on my watch, and I started at six this morning,” he said as he checked his computer again. “She passed the summit guardhouse at eight this morning, so you’ll probably find her at the event pavilion.”
“Could you do me a favor . . . Jason?” Rana asked, reading his name tag, “and call Julia and tell her I’m coming to her office?”
“Sure thing, Mrs. Oceanus,” he said, apparently too polite to ask why she wasn’t calling Julia herself. He was also circumspect enough not to have reacted when Rana had noticed he had noticed the woman beside her was wearing colony attire. “I’ll tell Mrs. Salohcin to expect you in about forty-five minutes.”
“Make that an hour, as I believe I might stop for a cigarette break,” Rana said, laughing at his stunned expression as she drove off.
“I . . . I’m not so sure about this,” Macie whispered, looking frightened again as she glanced back at the guardhouse.
“My word of honor, Macie; you won’t have to steal a car if you want to leave after meeting Julia and my daughter-in-law, Olivia. One of us will drive you anywhere you want to go, even if that’s all the way to Bangor. And Julia’s mother-in-law happens to be a midwife, so you might wish to see Maude while you’re here, if only to assure yourself that your child is doing well.”
“Why are you doing this for me? Why did you charge into a group of twenty people to save a complete stranger, and then bring me home to your family?”
“Would you not do the same for me if our circumstances were reversed?”
“I . . . Yes, of course.”
“Yes, of course,” Rana repeated with a nod, “because women help women.” She leaned closer. “Which, I believe, is what makes us stronger than men.”
And that, Rana decided as she fearlessly drove toward Whisper Mountain, would become her mantra: She was brave simply for being a woman.
Chapter Eleven
Titus stopped in midsentence when he realized his son and Nicholas were no longer listening, and turned to see what had caught their attention. “By the gods,” he said when he spotted Rana’s truck at the summit guardhouse, “it’s about time.”
“Don’t get too excited,” Nicholas said with a chuckle. “She’s not here for you.”
“I was referring to her making the drive up here, since she’s had that truck for nearly a week. Is her passenger the woman she rescued from the protestors?”
Nicholas nodded. “I was just about to intervene when I noticed a red SUV approaching. Rana slammed on the brakes the moment she saw what was happening, and ran into the mob shouting for them to back off. She even pulled one of the men off the woman and started giving him hell.”
Mac closed his eyes on a groan. “Sweet Zeus.”
“Someone,” Nicholas drawled, “might want to mention that she’s not supposed to park in the middle of the road.” He sobered. “I’m just glad Kitalanta was with her, as I’m afraid she would have charged in there even if she’d been alone.”
“Of course she would have,” Mac said as he glared at Titus. “Because someone has spent the last forty years letting her believe she’s invincible.”
Ignoring his son—which he found himself doing a lot lately—Titus watched his wife get out of her truck and let Kitalanta out before rushing around to the other side. After finally coaxing her obviously hesitant passenger to get out, Rana put her arm around the young woman and headed toward the conference pavilion just as Julia came rushing outside. “You might as well leave Dante in place, since he’s already established himself,” Titus said to Nicholas. “But I see no need for you to continue shadowing him. Dante can warn us if anything important is about to occur.” He grinned, gesturing toward the pavilion. “We seem to have acted in haste, as it appears my wife just brought the inner workings of the colony to us.”
“She wouldn’t have been able to if Dante hadn’t already been there,” Nicholas pointed out. “Although I’m more worried about the protestors than I am the colonists. Someone needs to rout those idiots before they go from merely being zealous to dangerous.”
“When is Niall returning?” Titus asked.
“Too soon for Duncan’s peace of mind,” Mac said with a chuckle, “and not soon enough for Jack Stone. Apparently Laird Niall isn’t all that enamored with modern law, and suggests that instead of putting people in a comfortable jail cell, Stone should take the bastards on a one-way ride to the end of Pine Lake, claiming a long trek through the wilderness might better serve to help them find the error of their ways.”
“Can’t say that I disagree with him,” Nicholas muttered.
“Niall will be back in a couple of days,” Mac added, “with his badge and gun and all his passionate energy focused on protecting the fine citizens of Spellbound Falls and Turtleback Station.”
“Good,” Titus said, starting up the path to his cottage. “Then the protestors can be his problem.”
“Are you not going to go see Mother?” Mac asked.
“She knows where I live.” Titus stopped and looked back. “I would appreciate it if neither of you mention that Nicholas witnessed her little adventure today.”
“Why not?” Mac asked, even as he and Nicholas nodded agreement.
Titus said nothing, merely giving a negligent wave over his shoulder as he started toward his cottage again. But in truth, he was curious to see if his wife might simply forget to mention her recklessness or tell him herself. Either way, he was proud of her for not only rushing to the woman’s rescue, but for driving up Whisper Mountain despite her terrible fear of heights. And since one particularly steep section of the winding road was cut into a cliff sheer enough to test the courage of most men, Titus found himself grinning at the prospect that Rana had been too busy being a hero to be afraid.
Actually, Kitalanta was probably the one needing a stiff drink. He’d have to remember to give the orca another tattoo for his valor.
Titus stepped into his empty cottage with a tired sigh and closed his eyes on the deafening silence. He was long past trying to figure out why Rana had left him and nearing the end of his patience for waiting her out. He was, in fact, considering taking up the MacKeage practice of stealing their women, as the highlanders apparently felt that spiriting them off to an isolated cabin in the woods was a good way to get their undivided attention.
He snorted, remembering how he had wasted two weeks making a complete fool of himself trying to impress the beautiful maiden who had caught his eye that long-ago summer by following her home from the tournament—his large entourage in tow—and showering her with gifts befitting a queen. All to no avail, as each ambassador he sent forth had always returned still in possession of his gifts. It hadn’t been until he’d politely ambushed her equally beautiful mother in town that he’d learned his grand gestures were actually repelling Stasia. Instead of being seen as tokens of esteem, the astute woman had boldly explained, her daughter believed that a man of his power and wealth must be touched in the head to be sending a lowly blacksmith’s daughter jewels and scented oils and priceless works of art.
He’d gone back to his encampment and disbanded his entourage but for a handful of warriors, shed his tournament finery in favor of plain britches and shirts, turned his horse to pasture, and taken up his pursuit on foot. He hadn’t gone so far as to throw the baby out with the bathwater, however, and had kept a few magic tricks tucked up his sleeves.
The fair-haired maiden hadn’t immediately recognized him the first time their paths had crossed in town, and he’d been able to get close enough to press a heart-shaped pebble into her delicate hand before she had once again escaped into the crowd. And although Aaron Proust might only have been a lowly blacksmith, that hadn’t stopped the well-muscled and fiercely protective father from paying Titus a late-night visit to respectfully suggest he get lost.
And he might have started questioning his pursuit, Titus remembered with a chuckle, if he hadn’t found himself lingering in the woods outside of Stasia’s home the following day wh
en she’d been hanging clothes on the line, and had watched her pull on a leather lacing tied around her neck to see his heart-shaped pebble emerge from her bodice. It had taken him another two weeks of secretly—albeit sometimes magically—presenting her with equally simple tokens of his esteem before he’d been able to have an actual conversation with her, and another week of cajoling to persuade her to meet him in a nearby meadow that he might take her horseback riding.
His beautiful maiden had shown up wearing britches.
He had shown up leading one horse and wearing his heart on his sleeve.
Aaron Proust had shown up not ten minutes later, carrying a double-edged felling axe and wearing a scowl fierce enough to turn back an army.
But it had been the arrival of Mrs. Proust—carrying a picnic basket and wearing a smile that apparently had the power to bring the blacksmith to his knees—that should have warned Titus who would be wearing the britches in his own marriage once he did indeed win the beautiful maiden’s love.
He’d do it all again in a heartbeat: make a complete fool of himself, give up his wealth and power and even his kingdom, and drop to his knees in defeat just to hear his wife sigh his name when he turned to her in bed.
“Grampy!” came a shout as tiny footsteps scrambled onto the porch, followed by urgent knocking on the cottage door. “Grampy! Hurry! You’re going to miss her!”
Titus opened the door in time to catch the explosion of blonde curls and flailing arms as Ella hurled herself at him. “Whoa, little cherub,” he said with a grunt as he swept the squirming toddler against his chest. “What are you caterwauling about?”
Spellbound Falls [5] For the Love of Magic Page 13