Tressa's Treasures (The King's Jewel Book 1)

by Gordon, Belinda M

  Matt sat in a chair at her bedside, holding her hand. He leaned forward, his forehead resting on the bed. He looked up as we entered and put a finger to his mouth to shush us.

  "She's sleeping," he whispered.

  He moved away and stood with Alexander as I took his place beside her. Holly's breathing was shallow. The bruising on her face contrasted dramatically against her sallow skin. She looked decidedly worse than the last time I‘d seen her.

  Her eyes fluttered. She smiled awkwardly. "Tressa, you're here." Her words were barely audible.

  "Aye, Pix, I'm here."

  "I was thinking how silly I was, worrying about that strange flu when the real danger was right in my own home."

  "Sure, and you're a mom now," I told her. "Moms worry about everything—it’s what they do. It's not silly at all."

  One big tear rolled down her face.

  "I don't know if I’ll get to be a mom, Tressa. They say I'm losing the baby."

  "Well, Pix, we’re not going to let that happen. You see, I have a bit of skill with healing. If you say it's okay, I'm going to try to help."

  She nodded before dozing off again. I searched the room and found a small plastic basin. I washed it and my hands in the little bathroom inside the room and set the basin on her overbed table.

  I set about mixing an ointment, pouring several tablespoons of the lavender oil into the bottom of the basin. Taking the sprigs of baby's breath, I crumbled them into the oil. As per the book’s instructions, I mixed them together and infused my essence into the ointment before placing it on the patient.

  I sang the accompanying intonation softly as I worked the oil and bits of my spirit into the baby's breath. When the ointment was complete, I didn't rub the salve directly on her abdomen, not wanting to disturb the fetus any more than it already was. Instead, I slathered it into the pulse points on her wrists, temples, neck, and behind her knees to allow it to travel through her blood stream.

  When I had finished applying all the ointment, I prayed. I prayed to the Virgin Mary, the patron saint of mothers, to intercede on our behalf. I prayed to God Himself that I had done enough to heal the damage and save the child.

  Alexander and I kept vigil with Matt as she continued to worsen. She seemed to slip into a coma, which puzzled the doctors. At first I thought it was just a deep sleep brought on by rapid healing. However, as she remained motionless—except for the gentle rise and fall of her chest—for hours on end, I became convinced that my attempt at rapid healing had overtaxed her system. We were losing them both.

  I took my turn staring out the room's small window four hours into our vigil. The window overlooked a main thoroughfare of the small town. The bells in the church steeple a block away struck the hour—one, two, three, four, five. I counted to myself as they rang out. As the last bell fell silent a light, soft voice whispered behind me.

  "Matt?"

  The three of us rushed to Holly’s side. She was awake.

  She reached up and touched her eye. The swelling had receded, but the greenish-yellow of a nearly healed bruise remained.

  "Welcome back," I said, relief washing over me. "I think the worst is over now," I told the men.

  "Tressa, is that you? Your hair, your eyes...." Still weak, Holly's voice died off before she finished her thought.

  In all the worry about saving her, I had forgotten about this part. It was sad, knowing I must look like a stranger to her now.

  The emotional and physical strain building up inside me collided. Suddenly exhausted, I sank into the chair beside her bed.

  "Aye, tis me," I said.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  We brought Holly to my house when the hospital released her two days later. The doctors had placed her on complete bedrest for at least the next two weeks.

  She had rejected the hospital staff's suggestion to go to her parents' home even before I’d invited her to stay with me.

  "I'd rather take care of myself," she told them.

  Alexander had offered to stop off on the way home from the hospital so she could pick up her clothes, but she refused to return to her home with Fred. I made a note to myself to send the twins out shopping for maternity clothes. They would enjoy that.

  Alexander put her things, such as they were, in one of the guest bedrooms upstairs while I got Holly settled on the sofa in the living room. She wore one of Alexander's T-shirts that hung down to her mid-thigh and a pair of my yoga pants with the legs rolled up several inches. She looked younger without her designer clothes, styled hair and make-up. She picked up the TV remote and turned on the local news.

  "Do you think they know about Fred's arrest?" she asked in a small voice. Her expression said louder than words how much she didn't want that to be true.

  "It will be fine one way or the other," I assured her.

  The show was in the middle of a special broadcast about the flu outbreak, which had previously been contained to the area around Niagara Falls but now seemed to be spreading south. The story disclosed nothing new. Officials still didn't know the source of the flu, nor did they have an effective treatment.

  They reported on a missing hiker presumed to be lost in the woods. A recent photo of the hiker displayed in the upper right corner of the screen while the anchor read the story. The weatherman came on next.

  A knock at the door interrupted the broadcast. I clicked off the television when Alexander ushered Tom Lynch into the room. He was in uniform, his thumbs hooked on his gun belt. This time when I offered, he took a seat, pulling the chair closer to Holly.

  "How are you feeling?" he asked, smiling sadly.

  "I'm okay, Tommy." She rubbed her belly. "The baby's going to be fine."

  He exhaled deeply.

  "I'm so glad, Holly. Truly." He looked around the room, his eyes brushing over Alexander and me before returning his attention to Holly. "I have bad news," he said.

  Holly nodded and looked down. She played with the fringe along the edge of a pillow beneath her.

  "Fred was due in court this morning. He didn't show."

  "He skipped bail?" Alexander asked at the same time I said, "He's out on the loose?"

  Tom nodded in response to our questions, but continued to focus on Holly. "He passed the Canadian border late last night. We flagged his passport, so if he tries to return we'll have him. I wanted to make sure you heard it from me."

  Holly continued to fiddle with the fringe.

  "Holly, I never thought he would take things so far. I thought he meant it when he said your leaving him had straightened him out."

  Finally, she looked up at him.

  "I know, Tommy. I did too."

  "Another thing," Tom said. He cleared his throat and swallowed twice before continuing. Grief spread across his face. "They're going to charge him with Eileen's murder. He killed her, Holly. He cut her brakes."

  Holly's eyes glistened. She fought to keep the tears from spilling out. Unable to speak, she gave him several quick nods.

  "We're going to get him, Holly. The Canadians are looking for him too. If it's the last thing I do, I will get him."

  There was no doubting his earnestness. Rage radiated from him in waves. Holly took his hand and squeezed it.

  Tom stood to take his leave, leaning over and kissing Holly on the cheek. He turned to say goodbye when we heard the back door slam.

  Keelin's melodic voice called out, abruptly evaporating the tension in the air.

  "Mamó sent me down with food for your convalescing friend. Seriously, Tressa, why do all your friends end up battered?"

  She came into the room holding a tray of food with a covered dish, a carafe of milk, another of water, and utensils. She carried the heavy tray with a dancer's grace: straight back and out-turned feet. She stood framed by the doorway.

  Holly and Tom both gaped at her. Keelin was only the second fae Holly had encountered since my laying of hands had opened her eyes. Her coloring was much farther removed from human than my own, with her metallic bl
ue hair and her electric blue, glittering eyes.

  Tom stared at a shockingly beautiful girl, albeit with flat blue eyes and blue-black hair.

  I jumped up and cleared off the table next to the sofa so she could set the tray down.

  Unburdened of her load, Keelin gravitated toward the new man in the room. She danced over to Tom, holding out her hand, which he took. I doubted that Keelin had ever offered her hand to a man who didn't take it.

  "Keelin, this is Tommy. He's a friend of Pix's," I said, careful not to give her too much information. I wasn't one to offer any of my brethren more of a name than they needed. "This is my cousin, Keelin. Tommy was just leaving."

  Alexander, now accustomed to the effect the twins had on other men, clapped his hand down on Tom's shoulder to shake him out of his daze. He looked at Alexander as if he had forgotten what he was doing.

  "Thanks for coming by," Alexander said. "Be sure to let us know if you learn anything more."

  "Oh. Yeah. Right."

  Alexander walked him to the door.

  Keelin settled into a chair opposite Holly. The two women assessed one another. Holly played with her hair, attempting to better arrange it, which made me believe she felt lacking compared to the Sidhe.

  "Keelin, this is my good friend Pix, whom I told you about. Did I mention she's expecting?" I said, knowing no Sidhe can resist fawning over an expectant mother.

  Keelin now observed Holly with enthusiasm. She slid forward on her seat. "Well, you're just much too thin," she said.

  Keelin uncovered the dish, releasing a waft of fresh-baked bread. Inside was a thick turkey sandwich with deep red tomatoes and dark leafy lettuce, sliced into four sections. She picked up the carafe of milk and poured a serving into a glass on the tray.

  "I'm not hungry," Holly protested.

  "Nonsense. Even if you're not hungry, the baby is," Keelin said, handing Holly the glass of milk.

  "Pix just came home from the hospital today. The doctors have put her on bedrest. Since she has no maternity clothes and she's stuck here, I thought you and Rosheen could go shopping for her," I said.

  A broad smile lit up Keelin's face. The suggestion even brought a bit of life back into Holly's expression.

  "That would be great fun." Keelin leaned conspiratorially toward Holly, dropping her voice. "Better leave Rosheen out of this. The girl has no taste."

  "I heard that!" Rosheen's voice preceded her into the room. Sophia was at her side, carrying a basket.

  "Twins?" Holly gasped.

  "Don't listen to her," Rosheen said. "I'm Rosheen Danann, fashion designer to the Royal Family. She's just a dancer."

  Keelin huffed.

  "Designer to Mommy and Daddy, you mean."

  "Girls, girls," I laughed. "You can both shop for her."

  I took Sophia to the Labyrinth Garden that afternoon. She loved to play tag inside its elaborate pattern of twisting and turning paths and multiple dead ends.

  At the entrance of the garden, Sophia let go of my hand and ran in ahead of me, giggling.

  "You can't get me!" she called back to me in a singsong voice.

  The labyrinth was quite old; the hedges that created the walls reached well over my head. Once Sophia turned the first corner, she disappeared from view. However, I kept close behind her by following the sound of her footsteps and giggles, staying out of sight so she would think she was outsmarting me.

  "I'm going to get you," I called, teasing her. Occasionally I would get closer and fake a grab at her.

  We kept at it until she reached the heart of the labyrinth, where a bench surrounded by rosebushes awaited us. A bloom off the bush was the reward for any adventurer who made it this far. Sophia picked which flower she wanted: a pale yellow rose in full bloom. She waited for her prize, shifting her weight from one foot to the other with her hands clasped behind her back as I clipped it and snapped off the thorns on its stem.

  We sat on the bench. She pulled her knees up and put her feet flat on the seat of the bench. She leaned against me and I put my arm over the seat back.

  "Tressa, how did these flowers get here?" She twirled the stem between her fingers. The sweet fragrance from the flower spun around us.

  "Miss Órlaith planted them many years ago. She planted the whole garden."

  "Why?"

  "She loves to grow things, especially plants. She planted all the gardens on the estate."

  "Why?"

  "Why do you think she did that?"

  Sophia thought for a minute, holding the flower under her nose.

  "She must really love plants."

  "Aye, I believe she does."

  She scooted around until she lay with her head in my lap, knees still bent, gazing up at the sky.

  "When you look up, you don't even know you're in a puzzle," she said.

  I followed her gaze and noticed storm clouds accumulating. The temperature had dropped several degrees. I would need to get the child indoors soon.

  "Can I stay at Pine Ridge forever?"

  The seriousness of her voice startled me. I phrased my answer carefully.

  "There will always be a home for you at Pine Ridge, whenever you want and for as long as you want. You must ask your father how long this visit will be."

  The child scrambled to her feet, standing on the bench. The yellow flower left discarded by her shoe. She hugged me around my neck, putting her tiny cheek against mine.

  "I love you, Tressa."

  "Aye, and I love you too, little one."

  "I wish you were my mommy."

  My heart broke at the same time as it swelled with joy.

  "Me too, baby. Me too." I hugged her fiercely and then stood. "We better get going, it looks like rain."

  "I'll race you!" She ran off, giggling and zigzagging her way through the second half of the labyrinth. I concentrated on listening to her direction changes to keep close behind her.

  She turned into a short dead-end and then, seeing her mistake, she abruptly turned back and ran into me. We were both laughing as we busted out of the end of the labyrinth on the far side of the garden.

  The sun shone through a break in the clouds and a flicker caught the corner of my eye. I jerked my head in that direction and caught a glimmer of gold in the trees. At first, I was sure the sun had glinted off Gilleagán's golden hair as he walked in the woods. When I looked again, I saw nothing.

  Sophia came and grabbed my hand.

  "Can we go visit the Pixies?"

  "Aye, a short visit," I agreed.

  We had walked halfway around the outside of the Labyrinth Garden toward the lake when I heard a noise from the woods next to us. It sounded like the crackling of the underbrush beneath a footstep. The hair on the back of my neck stood.

  Someone had to be in the woods.

  The labyrinth blocked us from the view of everyone else on the estate. Nobody would be within shouting distance. The Pixies might pick up my shout on the wind, but they wouldn't be able to summon help in time.

  A man stepped out of the woods. Fred Moyer stood twenty feet in front of me. His arms and face were scraped and dirty. Sections of his t-shirt were torn. He looked like he had fought his way through the thicket. In his hands he carried a coarse rope, which he twisted maniacally back and forth around his fists.

  My instincts screamed at me to hold Dominion over him. I could make him freeze where he stood while I went for help. However, he was too far away for me to lock his gaze.

  Although I doubted he was after Sophia, I didn't want to take any chances. I had to get her away from him. I kept my eyes on Fred as I spoke to her.

  "Lass, I need you to run to the Manor House. Now!"

  Instead of following my instructions, she clung to my leg.

  "That's the bad man from the store," she said in a trembling voice.

  Fred stepped toward us. Unconsciously, I backed away from him, Sophia still glued to my side. Belatedly I remembered that I needed to be closer if I were to control him. This was difficult
when it meant allowing him within reach of Sophia.

  I pushed her behind me and gripped her upper arm to hold her there as I moved closer. I made eye contact with him, but something was wrong. His eyes were flat and lifeless.

  "Fredrick Moyer, husband of Holly Moyer—"

  "God damn right, she's my wife. Where is she?" he shouted.

  Fear rose in my chest.

  I tried again. "Fredrick Moyer, stop right there."

  I trembled. I couldn't hold Dominion over him; someone else was already controlling him. He kept coming toward us.

  I had to get Sophia to safety. If I ran with her, he could catch us. I couldn't be sure he would grab me and leave the child unharmed. I had no choice but to hold him off while she got to safety. Then, perhaps, I could flit away.

  I whipped around and stooped to her level in one smooth motion. I grabbed both her arms, too tightly in my panic, and she yelped. I locked eyes with her.

  "Sophia Alexa Mannus, you will run as fast as you can to the Manor House. Don't stop until you get to Shamus."

  Nothing. She didn't move; but this was different. My magic just wasn't working on her.

  "Sophia, do as I ask—quickly."

  This time, she obediently turned and ran, little arms pumping.

  Suddenly the sky opened up, pouring down on us. Lightning flashed. I watched her through the rain, heart thumping, until I felt confident she was on her way.

  I turned back and immediately felt a blow across my face. Fred's backhand knocked me off balance. I slid on the wet grass as I tried to catch myself and fell down hard.

  I tried to scurry away from him and get to my feet, but he grabbed my leg and pulled it out from under me, sending me sprawling again. I flipped onto my back. When he came at me again, I swept my leg across his knees, knocking him down. He shouted curses at me.

  I struggled to my feet, looking in the direction Sophia had just gone. I couldn't see her any more. Was she safe? I asked myself, wondering if she had gotten far enough away for me to flit to help.

  In that moment of hesitation, he caught me, latching on to my wrist. I couldn't move on the wind as long as he held onto me.