The Touchstone 0f Raven Hollow (Secrets 0f Roseville Book 3)

by Betty Bolte

  “In the meantime, Grant, let’s get those sacks inside.” The sun was high in the sky already. Time seemed to be in overdrive in Raven Hollow. Or they were moving slower than usual. Either way, they needed to hurry.

  They went to the group of burlap sacks bulging with pecans, walnuts, and hazelnuts. Tara inspected the number and size of the sacks and frowned.

  Grant considered the bags for several moments before looking at Tara. “I count ten sacks. Lenore has been very busy.”

  “They look heavy. I don’t know that I can lift them even though they’re not large.” Tara’s heart sank at her inability to shorten the task by assisting Grant. “Maybe there’s a wheelbarrow?”

  “Wait here for me.” Grant stepped forward to heft the first sack onto his shoulder with a low grunt. “Don’t worry. This won’t take long.”

  He strode to the house and went inside. While she waited for his return, tapping the fingers of one hand on her crossed arms, the ravens caught her attention. Still croaking and flapping, creating quite a frenzy of sound. Movement in the shadows of the trees on the opposite side of the clearing made her frown in concentration, trying to see what moved, and then she gasped. The black-and-rust wolf led his pack into view, milling around the presumed carcass of the poor dead deer bound to be their meal.

  The idea that the birds cooperated with other species to prepare their meal fascinated her. They worked together to provide for the entire unkindness, the whole family as it were. A thought that reminded her of the dinner she and her sisters planned to prepare for their extended family. If she and Grant could find their way home soon. Thanksgiving was tomorrow after all. They had to make haste to return to Grant’s car if they had any hope of sharing the holiday with their family.

  Years ago, the holidays had always been times when the family and close friends without local family gathered together around the big table in the dining room; all its insert leaves in place to extend it to its maximum length. She could practically smell and taste all the delicious dishes of savory vegetables, the roasted turkey, glazed ham, and freshly baked rolls. A time of shared love and happiness. Except for the occasional drama of some kind, a simmering tension waiting to explode the happy occasion into shards of anger and hurt. Tara frowned, recalling her mother’s quiet words to the injured party. An aside which worked to calm the dissent and restore the day’s pleasant atmosphere. Holidays weren’t always perfect, but the time together meant more than any small squabbles. They’d come together to share a meal they each had contributed to in some way, big or small.

  Sure enough, just as Lenore had said, the wolves ripped open the deer. She couldn’t bear to watch after the first ripping and crunching sounds reached her ears. Grant appeared on the porch about the time she turned away from the sight. He grimaced as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the pistol. As far as she knew, it was still loaded. She hoped he wouldn’t feel a need to use the antique weapon. No good could come of firing such an old gun.

  “Grant!” She waved her arms in the air to attract his attention. “No!”

  He sauntered toward her, the gun in his hand at the ready. When he reached her side again, he shrugged. “Just in case I need to scare them away.”

  “Don’t shoot them. They’re only here to help the ravens.” Tara pleaded with her eyes. “Promise me you won’t hurt them.”

  He regarded her for several moments, his gaze flitting across her face. “As long as they don’t threaten any of us, then fine.”

  “Thank you.” Relief flew through her being. The wolves seemed more intelligent than typical dogs, more canny and aware of the people as well as the birds.

  “But if they do, then I’ll fire to protect you.” He put the gun into his waistband and gave her a quick kiss. Then he hefted the next sack onto his shoulder and walked toward the house.

  “You promised not to hurt them,” she called after him.

  “Only if they don’t hurt you.” His wicked chuckle drifted across the span of meadow to her.

  She’d have to make sure he kept his word. Pacing after him, she planned her strategy. One that got them out of Raven Hollow. Soon.

  Chapter 18

  The ravens’ cries died away, leaving the sounds of the wolves snarling and chewing to fill the hushed clearing. Grant’s longer stride devoured the distance to the stone house. As he disappeared inside, Tara mulled over possible ways to break away from the valley. The problem remained in not knowing the exact nature of the spell. Perhaps if she studied the sigils on the door frame and threshold, she could glean the necessary information. Tara reached the steps as Lenore started down, her cane wobbling with each step.

  “I’m grateful for your help.” Lenore peered into Tara’s troubled eyes and grinned. “It’s a happy coincidence that you stumbled into Raven Hollow when you did.”

  Coincidence? Not likely. Events seemed to have conspired to bring her and Grant to the valley. And then to hinder their departure. Or had Lenore made up the aching back to prolong their stay, miss the window for escape? Had she missed a chance to choose wisely by not insisting they depart rather than carrying in the sacks?

  Tara’s resolve strengthened with that thought. “Glad to be of service. But we must go soon. I worry so about my sisters when I’m not there to he…help them.”

  Lenore patted Tara’s shoulder with a bony hand, her long nails discolored and chipped. “Family is important. I hope you succeed in getting home with all speed.”

  While the crone’s words suggested she cared, the way she said them made Tara’s spine crawl with anxiety. A thread of insincerity underlay Lenore’s sentiment. She seemed to want to keep them with her. Something flickered in her eyes, testing Tara’s resolve to find an escape from the magic holding them in the hollow. Distorting time as well? Hard to say how long they’d been trapped. One day? One week? Longer?

  “As soon as we’re done with the nuts, we’ll get going. Don’t fret.” Tara, however, did worry that her limited ability with spells would hamper their efforts to find a way home. If only Roxie were there, she would have a better grasp on the type of enchantment in effect.

  “I’m fine if you stay as long as you like.” Lenore rapped her cane on the bottom step, making a soft thudding sound. “I never mind visitors.”

  Suddenly a raven swooped past Tara on its way up to perch on the porch roof. Tara peered at the haughty and seemingly defiant bird as it cocked its head this way and that, observing her.

  Lenore tapped her cane on the step again, sharp raps that seemed to echo in the ensuing silence. “Get off my roof, raven. You know better than to hang over my head in such a manner.”

  The raven croaked three times before extending its wings to take off and fly away to join the others in the trees.

  Tara sucked in a breath as her memory yielded where she’d heard her hostess’s name. Why hadn’t she recalled sooner? A chill began in her legs and swiftly rose to shiver up her spine and shoulders. Poe’s poem. Lenore was the name of the lost love of the narrator. The woman he was destined to see, as the raven quoted, nevermore. No coincidence led them to Raven Hollow. Something or someone needed them to come, to resolve the puzzle of the enchantment on the woman standing beside her and everything else in sight. But who and why? And most pressing, how did she break the spell?

  Grant emerged from the open door of the cottage and trotted down the few steps to stand with them. His gaze traveled to the wolves, a hand resting on the butt of the gun. He looked so handsome, so strong and ready for action, Tara could only stare at him for several moments. Drink in the vision of a gorgeous hunk of a man’s man. One who seemed to feel for her the same attraction pulling her to him. Only problem was that it was like the clichéd moth to a flame in which the flame ultimately burned the moth. She simply didn’t know if she could survive such heat.

  “You have no need to worry about the wolves, Grant.” Lenore blinked up at him with a snaggletooth smile. “Trust me.”

  He lifted a brow as he peered down
at her. “Why? They’re wild animals. Look at how they’re devouring that deer. They could easily do the same to us.”

  Lenore shook her head as she aimed her gaze at the wolves. “They were invited by the ravens. They’ll eat their fill and leave.”

  “Better safe than sorry.” Grant patted the pistol handle, resting his hand on it. “I’ll keep this within reach until they’re gone.”

  “Have it your way.” Lenore sighed, staring at the brutal scene.

  “Shall we get started?” Tara asked, anxiety making her voice harsher than normal. Between the bloody sight across the way and the cold realization of how trapped they may be, she needed to unravel their predicament. The sooner they made an attempt to escape, the sooner she might figure out what summoned them in the first place.

  He turned to address her as Lenore started limping toward the remaining sacks.

  “We’ll get this job done and head out.” Grant held out a hand to Tara.

  Taking his hand, she walked silently beside him across the open grassy area. They caught up to Lenore as she hobbled slowly over the uneven turf and around a lone sapling growing to one side. The seed likely had been carried by the wind from the surrounding woods to drop in that exact spot. Landed in a fertile depression and then began to grow and reach for the sunlight. Once its roots had established a firm connection to its environment, its stalk started to grow and flourish until it stood about ten feet tall. As long as the sapling received the proper support and nourishment from its surroundings, it would continue to grow and mature. Much like a person finds a place to live and prosper. The mechanisms behind how nature worked amazed and delighted Tara.

  The crone had established her roots in the hollow. Away from every convenience. Away from every person. Away from witnesses.

  The big question remained. Why?

  The old woman suddenly cried out as she stumbled and pitched forward. Grant caught one arm, and Tara hurried to grab Lenore’s other to steady her until she regained her balance. Tara sensed a gap within the crone, a kind of disconnect inside separating her into two beings? Or somehow divided against herself. Lenore gasped several times, sucking in air as she propped herself on her cane with both hands.

  “Are you all right?” Grant peered at her with a frown between his eyes. “That would have been a nasty fall.”

  “I’m fine. I twisted my ankle on something.” Lenore shook her head slowly, her breathing slowing to normal.

  “Can you walk on it?” Tara sensed the woman was in pain but not seriously injured. Not in need of Tara’s healing. “You should probably elevate that ankle to avoid swelling.”

  “Would you mind helping me inside?” Lenore lifted her gaze in spurts until she met Tara’s.

  Tara stifled the unease simmering in her veins. She had nothing to fear from the old woman, all bent and crippled from arthritis. The division within proved another matter. She kept a firm hand on the woman’s bony arm, enabling a span of time to deepen her probing, supporting the crone’s slight weight as she rocked a little side to side.

  “Of course not.” Grant braced an arm around the woman’s shoulders. “If you need me to carry you, I can. You couldn’t weigh much more than those sacks of pecans.”

  “If you’ll each take an arm, I think I can walk.” Lenore’s eyes glittered as she lowered her lashes, watching where she placed her feet.

  Warning bells rang, adding to the red flags flying in Tara’s mind. When she grasped the old woman’s arm with both hands to ensure she could support her, she sensed a flow of magic so strong she nearly let go. But Lenore would fall if she did, so she persisted despite her reluctance. With each step they took across the field, the ravens grew louder until the air echoed with their cries. Warnings? Tara glanced at Grant, noted his serene countenance, and then felt foolish for her misgivings. After all, Lenore was merely a lonely old woman living in the country. They’d finish helping her and then find the car. Simple.

  Only if Tara ignored the bells and flags. Had Lenore stumbled on purpose? If so, then why?

  She spun ideas through her mind, searching for ties between them that would explain her motivation and purpose. Tara hadn’t experienced any discomfort or side effects from the food and drink they’d shared with her. Nothing terrible had happened to them since they arrived in Lenore’s hollow. Even the pack leader had welcomed them in his own way, leaving them to go about their business without interference. Then why this unease flowing through her veins?

  They reached the porch and headed toward the open door. As Grant ushered Lenore inside, the ravens took flight, diving and swirling back and forth overhead. Agitated and ruffled, they flew over the house, their calls reverberating and compounding into a cacophony of sound.

  As Tara eased the door closed, she peered up at the birds, searching for the cause of their disquiet. She spotted several that seemed to focus on her as they swooped past, iridescent plumage glistening in the fading sunlight. The sun had dipped beneath the surrounding hills already. Frowning, she observed the ravens’ frantic activity for several moments. Were they trying to tell her something? Finally closing the door all the way, she pondered the situation. Came up with no solid answers. She latched the door shut and turned to lean against it, watching Grant assist Lenore to sit in a chair and prop her foot on a pillow on another.

  With the sun already setting, they’d be forced to stay the night. Again. Had the old woman led them into another trap?

  Chapter 19

  Grant straightened from making sure Lenore’s foot rested comfortably on the pillow. She seemed frail and fragile, and his protective instincts surged to the fore. Tara leaned her back against the front door, silent and frowning.

  “Guess I’ll go finish bringing in the bags.” He crossed the room to Tara, stopping in front of her. “Why don’t you get our packs from the room?”

  She raised both brows as she pushed away from the door. “No need.”

  He frowned, puzzled. “Why not? We’re not leaving them here.”

  “We’re not leaving.” She shook her head slowly and sidestepped around him. “The sun has set.”

  “Time passes quickly around here.” Lenore folded her hands in her lap, watching them. “But I have discovered that you’ll find everything you want if you’ll stay and be content.”

  Now he really was confused. He had no desire to remain in the valley any longer than necessary. They’d just had breakfast a few minutes before. Right? He consulted his watch only to find Tara had it right. Evening approached.

  “What the hell? That can’t be.” He strode across the room and yanked open the door. Damn if the sky had begun to darken. He stepped out onto the porch, wondering about the wolves and the birds. He scanned the clearing and noted two things. The ravens were busy at the carcass, but the wolves had prowled closer to the house. In the fading light, he saw their silhouettes more than any details of color.

  He didn’t like it. Didn’t want the large, savage beasts so close to the house. To Tara in particular. What were they going to do? He couldn’t think of anything good they’d do so near to the stone building. One thing he knew for certain. He’d make sure they didn’t come any closer.

  Sliding the pistol from his waistband, he prepared to fire a warning shot. He slipped a paper cartridge from the little tin of ammunition and shoved into the cylinder. Inspecting the weapon, he noted a spot of rust on it here and there, but not enough to worry about. He’d just fire once into the air, not at the wolves. He’d promised not to hurt them and so he wouldn’t risk hitting one. Shooing them away from the house would let him sleep better, too.

  The pack nosed about the clearing, stopping now and again to investigate a sound or scent. When the black-and-rust beast halted and lifted his head to stare at Grant, he shivered. Those eyes unnerved him. Even in the dim light, the hulk of the wolf remained impressive. Best to clear them out before dark while the ladies were safe inside. One shot ought to be enough.

  He pointed the gun into the air and pull
ed the trigger. Nothing happened. Damn, it misfired. The wolf glared at him as Grant quickly fumbled another cartridge from the box, spun the cylinder to load it, and then raised the gun skyward. The pack fanned out, watching him.

  A flash of light above his head was followed by a loud explosion. But not the kind he’d hoped for. Pain blasted through his entire body when the pistol backfired, exploding in his hand. Pain and heat combined to make him yell. Dimly he was aware of the wolves and ravens evacuating the hollow as he sank onto the hard floor, his feet on the steps below. He cradled the injured hand in the elbow of his other arm, striving to keep from passing out while he rocked. He didn’t want to look, to see how mangled his hand may be. Kept his eyes shut trying to wrangle the pain into submission, so he could breathe without wanting to cry.

  Running footsteps behind him alerted him to Tara’s presence beside him. “What happened?”

  He opened his eyes and shook his head, unable to speak for the agony rocketing through him. Not waiting for an answer, she moved to stand in front of him on the lower step, gingerly reaching toward his hand. She hesitated, a split second glance at his face, and then placed her hands on the wound. He jerked back at the searing ache and the stinging sensation.

  “Don’t.” Grant bit out the one word and then clenched his teeth to stay conscious. Tried to blink away the flashes of blue and white in his eyes from the shafts of pain crashing through him.

  She bit her lip and shook her head. Studied him for a heartbeat and then squared her shoulders. “You have to let me help you.”

  “First-aid kit.” He indicated with his head to check his backpack. He hoped she’d understand because speaking was near impossible while in so much distress.

  “I can help you, if you’ll let me.” She stared into his eyes and stood her ground. “Let me see.”

  Pulling his arm toward her, she forced him to show her the wound. He didn’t want to look at the charred flesh, the splinters of metal embedded in his skin. Nor the blood. But with his hand right in front of him, he had little choice.