by M. P. Reeves
Honestly, she didn't miss it at the moment. She was alive, eating and feeling surprisingly carefree. Juan sat across from her, finishing off his cigarette, smiling while she picked the last bits of coleslaw that had fallen off onto the plate.
"Still hungry?"
Her cheeks flushed. "I think I'm okay now. Sorry."
"Why would you be sorry?"
"That wasn't exactly ladylike." Her mother would have sent her to her room for that little stunt. Margery Waters had obtained her education through various private schools in Great Britain, she still subscribed to traditional English elegance in table manners. Food was to be cut, the fork then transferred transferring the fork to your dominate hand. It kept one dainty at the table.
"Nor was what happened to you. I'd say it's a wash." Pulled a cell phone out of his pocket, he muttered. "Speaking of wash, we need to get you some new clothes." Liz wrinkled her nose. True she was still in her jogging shorts, sports bra and tank top, but that was hardly a priority. Although, it dawned on her with all the dirt and dried blood she probably smelled like a zoo.
"Why are you helping me Juan?" She asked him as he texted.
"Mutual friend, and please, call me John."
"Where are we John?" She pressed.
"Bekapaika, Madagascar." John set the phone on the desk next to him.
Liz frowned. "No, we aren’t."
He kicked up an eyebrow. "No?"
"How could we be?" She scoffed. "Consuela and Estevan? They both speak Spanish, the sign out front is also in Spanish. Madagascar is predominately French. Also the vegetation is all wrong." Never argue social studies with a girl who had Mr. Tullam for both AP SS and Geography, she thought. Madagascar had been her freshmen semester project. She kind of had a thing for lemurs.
Her slap dash explanation seemed to delight her host. Who clapped once, be it mocking or sincere she was too tired to care. "Bright, tough and pretty! Aren't you just a total package."
She glared at him, to which he held up his arms in defense with a playful laugh. As his wrist came up, something caught the light. A small leather bracelet on his left hand with a gold center piece. The golden circle had been carved with three lines that met in an apex. The same symbol that had been on the inside cover of the book. Her heart skipped a beat, be he fiendish or angelic he was definitely involved in this sordid affair.
"Alright alright, you win. We're outside Lanquín, Guatemala."
"Why didn't you just say so?"
John laughed. "Where would be the fun in that?" Leaning forward in his chair, he lowered his voice. "You never really know a person until you disturb their reality. Work, Home, Sleep. Class, Study, Sports. You remove the repeatable mundane, introduce chaos and the core of the individual shines through."
"How did they get me out of the states..."
"Please...you know the answer to that as well as I do. Money. Money breeds power and when you have both all the rules just flitter away. Smuggling a girl into Latin America? Cake. How many thousands do you think get taken against their will every year on this increasingly vile planet? Girls just like yourself turned into slaves, prostitutes or worse. If they have the resources to declare you dead and bury a body, getting you out of the states was childs play. Hell, they probably flew first class and used you as a footstool."
"I want to go home John." Her eyes blurred at the word, so she closed them.
"Afraid you can't princess. See, you're dead. Police say you're dead and they do hate to be wrong. Now while the papers might momentarily enjoy the increased ratings due to your resurrection, the folks that reported your original status will be hard pressed to return you to your prior state. Not to mention the danger that would represent to your remaining loved ones."
"They're going to be in danger anyway when they found out I lied."
That got his undivided attention. "Did you now?"
"I'm surprised you haven't asked me about the book." She didn't mention his bracelet, although she did consider it.
"Figured dinner first, then we'd work our way up to that. However, since you brought it up you save me the uncomfortable embarrassment of becoming an impolite host."
"How do I know I can trust you?"
"You don't. But, for the record, I'm not trying to kill you."
"So far."
John shrugged. "Fair enough. Even so, let me assure you your family is quite safe the farther away you stay. Which is why your name is now Bethany Blair and you are my niece, on your mother's side. You grew up in southern California and you're here to visit for the summer. You don't speak the language so this should be fairly easy. Just smile and nod whenever anyone tries to converse with you, which should be never."
"Who is our mutual friend?"
"You're direct. I like that."
"That's not an answer."
He shrugged. "The answer would mean little to you, honestly."
"If I am to trust you, you need to trust me as well. I want to know who is pulling the strings. Was it the man who shot the guard? Or is he just another pawn in someone's game?"
John just blinked, his manicured hands folded neatly on the desk.
"You tell me...and I'll tell you everything I know." She offered. He stared at her for a long while, the left corner of his mouth eventually kicking up into a sly grin. She watched in silence as he prepared another joint.
"Our mutual friend," he paused, lighting the rolled paper pursed between his lips, "is Richard's father."
31
By the time he had finished giving them a play by play of what had happened in Los Angeles the entire jug of mead had been emptied. Wide eyed, they had hung on to his every word. Even Quin had been respectful, the entire story spared from his little snarky interjections. Carrick had expected such blatant honesty would fill him with fear and guilt, after all his mother's life hung in the balance. Through the revelation of his grave circumstances the opposite effect emerged. No longer was he isolated and alone. The burden of his struggle now a shared weight among his...brothers.
When he had finished speaking, there was no hesitation or delay. Quin stood, "Carrick," he spoke slowly assembling his thoughts. "Describe the cover of this book again."
"I only saw it briefly, but it was green. The symbol of Awen was engraved into the cover in gold piping and the pages were written in runes. I didn't know any at the time to tell you what they said."
"We need to go to New York immediately." Quin declared, much to Carrick's surprise.
"Wait, do you know what it is?" Carrick asked, the look of alarm on Quin's face a dead giveaway.
"Considering who your father is...I have my theories." Quin turned towards the fire, crossing his arms. "I believe when your mother left, she took with her the Leabhar Fìrinn."
"Ain't no way." Tadhg snorted. "Was burned inna solstice fire eons ago."
"No, it was buried with the first seat." Aodhan countered, "everyone knows that."
Carrick threw up his hands. "Whoa, wait a minute...what exactly is the Lebawhatever?"
Quin answered. "The collective works of the first of us. " Carrick's confused expression made Quin frown. "Did Erik teach you of our origins?"
Barely. "A little."
"A short history lesson then. When we fled Greece almost five thousand years ago to the lands of the Gaul's we fared only slightly better. Our unity and wisdom was appreciated for a time, but conquerors came in boats across the sea bringing their close minded views backed with iron, shared in blood. It was then that the elders found a way to step between, to live among the creatures not bound to the material plane. It was then that Dre'ien was created. Our paradise that co-exists yet is undetectable from their world."
"Why would Lorcan want a history book?"
"The tome contains many magic's that are forbidden to use. One is rumored to be how to bind and serrate planes of existence. In his possession Lorcan could carve out a untouchable reality for the fell, or rejoin Dre'ien to the shores of Iona." Carrick hadn't lived here long, but the
thought of this beautiful untouched place carved with a highway, decorated with fast food chains and tourist photo ops churned his stomach. Carrick reached out to the small potted Oxalis on the side table next to him. Lush triangular purple blooms welcomed his touch, leaning towards him as though he were a ray of sunlight.
There was wonder here, an innocence that must be protected at all costs.
In that quiet revelation Carrick realized true purpose. Meaning. A path through the oak and ash carved for his feet alone, not as an extension of his father's legacy nor childish yearning for acceptance but meritorious foreordination. The clandestine immutability of the ancients bequest unto him from first breath to preserve till his last.
"It is the gate he is after." Connall chimed in, snapping Carrick's attention back to the conversation at hand. "Think about his last invasion. There is only one gate left between the planes. It is heavily enchanted, guarded against any foul magic with both steel and spell. For Lorcan to get his vengeance, he would need a back door that we do not control. If he gets that book, he could make an infinite number of them."
"We sha' tell th' elders." Tadhg interjected.
"Yeah, because we have so much proof to give them." Aodhan rolled his eyes. "We'd come off like a bunch of bloody nutters."
"Plus Athai is on the council." Connall frowned.
"You seriously believe the serpentine matron would be in league with Lorcan?" Aodhan looked spooked by that thought.
"I believe Athai's actions during the final march were called into question." Conall’s political answer drew no criticism.
Quin cursed. "We need to go now." Carrick agreed. No arguments ensued, not one protest of danger or trouble. As one they nodded and began to formulate a plan.
It was determined that Quin and Conall would inform his current ward Selene and the other head of households that the pair was taking Carrick, Aodhan and Tadhg on sabbatical in the high hills. Apparently such things were quite common in the summer months, a druidic camping trip as it were. Turned out Conall’s idea worked perfectly, even Tadhg's chore heavy mother agreed to let him go after he raked up the back garden.
As Carrick retrieved the short sword his uncle had given him from his armoire, an odd sadness overtook him. He momentarily debated leaving a letter for Erik. A thank you for everything his uncle had done should Carrick perish in the upcoming endeavor. He wanted to apologize for his horrid behavior, for his anger, for the general teenage attitude he'd thrown about when they had arrived. He wanted to tell his uncle he loved and appreciated him, that he wished he'd settle down and have some kids of his own. In the end Carrick put no pen to paper, determined to live long enough to tell him in person.
Selene was sewing in the great room when he emerged from his bedroom, humming to herself. When she heard his footsteps her eyes flipped up immediately, a wide smile crossing her lovely face. Setting her needlepoint aside she walked over to him, purple waves of her chiffon looking gown fluttering about her bare feet. Selene's long hair was piled atop her head, woven in with vines and white flowers.
"Be careful out there. The insects are abundant this time of year. Drink plenty of spring water and look for the lady slippers and ghost orchids to the north of the lake in the dense forest. Virtually extinct in the human world we've managed to cultivate quite a lovely natural habitat for both."
"I will." He reached forward and gave Selene a quick hug before he left. Startling her, but not in a negative way. He inhaled sharply-mostly to suppress the urge to be over emotional-as he took a step back, the sweet soft scent of her woven flowers stayed with him.
Selene let out an airy laugh at his newfound affection, as effervescent and graceful as she was.
"Thank you Selene." He sincerely meant it.
"Have a wonderful adventure." She called after him as he walked the living stair to the forest floor below. A slight smirk crept onto his face at the irony of her words while his feet carried him into the wood.
Halfway down the path towards the split oak where they had agreed to rendezvous Carrick began to feel off. The hair on the back of his neck stood up, the only sounds around him the call of the birds overhead and the crunch of fallen leaves and twigs grinding against rocks beneath his footsteps. His eyes darted hastily from left to right, scanning the lush green forest for anything unwonted. He found something curious, not dangerous or hostile by any means but odd nonetheless. To his right set back about twelve feet from the path there was a trunk covered in thick moss, small orange and white blossoms flowered across its width. The floral growth spread to the tree next to it, the grass beneath its thick branches flourishing in a line between the two trunks. Carrick stopped immediately, frowning. There was only one creature he had come across to date who had that sort of ability.
"Why are you watching me?" He growled aloud.
There was no response. The southern wind shifted, blowing his hair in his eyes. With a curse, he tucked it behind his ear before continuing down the path.
"All among the trees meet my gaze." The feminine voice sounded inches from his right ear.
Carrick stopped, catching a whiff of a strong lilac scent. Squinting he scanned the tree line for her form but found nothing.
"Leave me be." With that he started walking forward again, trying to ignore the branches turning in his direction.
"Why?"
"Why? Really?" He laughed angrily. "You almost got me killed! You left me there. Alone. With no way home. With three-THREE-fell waiting outside." He spun about as he talked, arms spread. Since she chose not to reveal herself he simply addressed the forest as a whole. "And you ask why? Why? That is your why."
"The battle would not have occurred differently." He could almost picture her waiving a dismissive hand at him. Rather than let his temper boil completely over he exhaled sharply, imagining his rage leaving him upon his breath.
"Whatever." He continued on the path, the flowering moss followed him hopping from tree to tree alongside his step. "Just leave me alone!" He shouted.
"Carrick?" A male voice made him turn around, standing not ten yards away with a puzzled look on his face was Aodhan. His deep brown hair had been bound at the base of his neck in a orange ribbon, over his left shoulder he carried a supply satchel that was probably packed to the brim with supplies for their cover story.
"Aodhan!" He cursed, reaching out to jab his friend in the shoulder when he was within range. "Your timing couldn't have been better."
"Who were you shouting at?" Aodhan asked, eyeing the trees suspiciously.
"A nymph," Carrick grumbled, "she won't leave me be."
Aodhan laughed. "Really...you're bloody lucky Quin didn't hear that. You know there are those among us who aspire their entire lives to see between the leaves and you scream at it."
"Did you ever have a pet when you were a child Aodhan?"
The question seemed to catch him off guard. "Pet...no no Carrick. Never pets. I did however have companions in my early years."
"Me too. Well, one actually. A dog named Baxter, little terrier mutt with floppy ears and this long bushy tail. He always wanted to play at, like, three in the morning. He used to eat my socks and poop in my room too."
"What are you getting at?"
"When you want something, it is always viewed in the positives. The negatives just fade to the edges, things to worry about later after the thrill is had. I wanted the dog so badly, I never stopped to realize that I would have to feed it, take it out side, train it and that some of my things may be damaged beyond repair. It ate my favorite super hero the third night we had him. See I think, those men and women get so obsessed with meeting these forest spirits, they never stopped to think past the initial glory."
"So you did not truly wish for your companion Baxter?"
"No, no, no. I loved Baxter more than anything Wouldn't have traded him for all the socks and action figures in the world. These nymph's on the other hand..." Carrick frowned. "I think I could do without."
"That mean you're fi
nally ready for a fix up?" Aodhan grinned wryly.
"If we survive this? Sure." Carrick smirked, "perhaps even a double date with you and Brianne." The look of surprise on Aodhan's face confirmed his theory. It was customary for unwed girls to 'gift' their colors to suitors they favored. It would only make sense if he was to be gone for a period of time Brianne-who's sunrise shaded gowns were attributed to the Montbretia flowers she so loved-would try to bequeath some sort of favor on Aodhan.
"How'd..." Aodhan started and trailed off.
"Orange." Carrick tapped his own hair with a smirk. Aodhan reached behind his head and freed his hair, tucking the orange cloth in his pocket.
"She tackled me as I left mum's, hadn't taken it out yet." He muttered, a little extra color flooding his tan cheeks.
"Don't worry. I won't tell anyone." Although he did flip him a good amount of crap till they hit the rendezvous point. Conall and Quin were already waiting, visibly as polarizing as their personalities. The angelic Conall was resting up against the back of a tree, his eyes closed, hands clasped in his lap. Quin on the other hand was pacing, his typical scowl almost comical compared to his companion.
"Bout time you two made it." Quin grumbled impatiently.
"Fair Morn to you too." Aodhan shot back. "Not all of us are as free to do as we please."
"I merely meant..."
"Yeah yeah. I know."
Starless and Millie wrestled ten yards away, their nips and growls all in gest. Millie definitely had the advantage and was toying with Starless. When she'd get sick of his antics, she'd push him away with her paws for a bit. Her legs being long enough that she could hold him at bay with no worry of retaliation whenever she chose. It was funny to see Starless not have the upper hand. A visual homage to the adage about there always being something bigger in the food chain.