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

by Gordon, Belinda M

  "Yes, a leanbh, I know this. Go."

  I nodded, but I hesitated again as I looked at his expressionless face. I longed for him to turn to smile at me. I rushed back into the room and kissed his hot forehead.

  "I will take good care of him, a leanbh. Now go take care of yourself."

  This time I did as she told me.

  When I woke several hours later, Rosheen was taking a turn nursing Alexander. She hummed as she tried to get him to drink. Someone had added a plastic straw to the cup of tonic. She held the straw to his mouth.

  Relief crossed her face when she saw me.

  "Mamó asked me to come sit with him a while," she whispered. "Music seems to calm him, but he's not sipping the tonic anymore."

  I touched his face. He didn't open his eyes or respond. The fever still had hold of him. The small beads of sweat that covered his forehead were clear, at least, which was an improvement.

  Something was off, however. He still wore the clothes Shamus had put on him earlier, and they were still dry. With that high of a fever, he should have sweated through them again.

  I pushed back his hair and he rolled his head sideways. I noticed what looked like a bruise at the base of his neck and pulled his collar away to see more clearly. A web of purple lines had crawled up his shoulders and was curling along his collarbones.

  I took my hand away from him, trying to hide from Rosheen the fact that it was shaking.

  "I'll make some fresh tonic for him. Will you stay until I get back?" I took a deep breath, grateful I had gotten the question out without my voice cracking.

  She nodded, folding her arms across her stomach. I returned with two tonics, one for him to drink, one to swab his skin. Both were chilled with plenty of ice.

  "Thank you, Rosheen. You've been so much help." I hugged her, holding on to her and taking extra comfort from the hug. The gesture must have worried her; she hesitated to leave.

  "It's okay, Roe, I'll be fine. You can go."

  "That doesn't sound like a lie, but it doesn't sound like the truth either," she said, biting her lip.

  "It's the best you're going to get right now."

  She nodded, gave me a second quick hug, and left.

  I took a clean washcloth and soaked it with the drink I had made for him. Then I used it to wet his lips and squeeze fluid in to his mouth.

  I wet the sponge with the second mixture and swabbed his face, neck, hands and feet. I infused each stroke of his skin with my energy, willing it to heal his body. Then I went back to squeezing tonic into his mouth.

  Instead of singing the same invocation, I sang hymns as I worked. As I sang, prayed, and ministered, I found myself in an almost trance-like state. Perhaps I had managed to hypnotize myself.

  His energy pulled away from mine. I don't know if I had realized before then how tightly our energies were entwined, or how conscious I was of his presence, until I felt it falling away from me.

  I reached out to him with my internal self. I lay across him, putting one arm around his neck and the other arm around his body, as if pressing physically closer to him would make us spiritually closer. I lay my ear to his chest, listening to his slowed heartbeat as I reached out farther and farther, desperate to feel his presence next to mine.

  I was drifting, searching, singing to the metronome of his heart and moving further and further away from myself when a hand grabbed my arm and ripped me from him—ripped me completely off the bed.

  Stunned out of my stupor, I scrambled to keep my footing. My legs bowed, but Shamus caught me before I fell and guided me to the chair next to the bed.

  Mamó grabbed my chin and then raised it so she could study my face, her own face ashen with fear.

  "You could have killed yourself, lass," she admonished.

  My separation from Alexander created a grief so deep I barely heard her. Nevertheless, her words pushed through the fog in my head and added guilt to the debilitating grief. I had sworn to him I wouldn't go too far. If not for my grandmother's and Shamus's fortuitous arrival, I would have broken that oath.

  Alexander groaned and then rolled onto his side. I started to go to him, but Shamus held me in the chair by gripping my shoulder.

  Mamó went to him instead. She touched his skin and then offered him the glass of tonic. He took two strong swallows and even tried to hold the glass while he drank, though Mamó never let go of it.

  "It seems you have revived him a bit, a leanbh, but at what cost?" she chided me.

  "Do you think he's coming out of it?" I asked. His movements had brought me a small measure of hope.

  "His aura remains, but the color has paled. He isn't fully here. He isn't fully gone."

  I pursed my lips to contain my annoyance. I felt like she was purposefully being abstruse, though a part of me knew I was being illogical.

  "You should go eat something. We'll stay with him a while," she said.

  I acquiesced, knowing she would allow nothing else. I went to the kitchen, wondering what I could piece together from the few groceries in the house.

  As it turned out, I didn't need to worry about that. A tray of food lay on the kitchen table. Jenny must have sent it down with Shamus. The savory aroma of chicken soup with egg noodles and freshly made biscuits filled the air, making me aware for the first time that I was ravenous.

  I ate everything. Jenny had obviously sent enough food for both Alexander and me. Chicken soup, as I understood it, was a medicinal meal served to ailing people. I ate it all myself. When I had finished, I felt considerably fortified with renewed energy.

  There was a paper folded in half on the tray. I opened it to find a note hastily written in Matt's sprawling script: When can I see him?

  I didn't at once recall how much time had passed since this nightmare began. Working forward from the morning we found the hiker, I thought back to when Alexander had fallen ill, how many tonics I had prepared, and the times I had slept. I calculated that two and a half days had passed.

  Perhaps I was being too cautious, but I decided three days would be best. I picked up my phone, which I had abandoned on the kitchen counter several days earlier. Matt had called and texted several times. I responded to his most recent text: twelve more hours.

  Alexander's condition stayed much the same overnight. Mamó would no longer allow me to be alone with him. Rosheen and Keelin took turns staying with me when Mamó took respite from her post.

  Shamus stayed the entire time. Mamó wanted him available to pull me away from Alexander if need be. However, this was an unnecessary precaution. I carefully checked myself; as much as I disliked it, I had given Alexander my word. I would not break my promise.

  I monitored the progression of the purple webbing while I continued with my routine. I made him drink and swabbed him with tonic, slowly inserting bits of energy into each stroke and taking frequent breaks for food and naps.

  Mamó sat vigil with me again the following morning. The fever still hadn't broken.

  "How much more of this can his body take?" I asked her, my voice shaking.

  "He's a strong man, lass. His aura is still holding."

  "Tressa, can I come up?" Matt's warm familiar voice called from downstairs.

  "Yes, Matt, please do," I called back to him.

  I heard him sprint up the stairs. He came into the room carrying an IV pole and two bags of saline. I berated myself for not thinking of this human therapy myself. Perhaps I had done Alexander a disservice by relying only on my healing powers.

  "I learned how to do this in the service," Matt said. He hung the bag from the pole and then got ready to insert an IV needle. "I spent some time assisting the medics in the field."

  "Mattie, do you plan to stay awhile?" Mamó asked.

  "Yes, if it's okay with you guys."

  I thought it would be good for Alexander to have Matt around, and I told him as much while I watched how he went about starting the IV.

  Once the saline began to hydrate him, Alexander's skin color improved.
The purple around his neck quickly faded. I let myself be hopeful. Perhaps this was the boost needed to bring him through this. The hex couldn't last for much longer.

  "If Matt's staying, Shamus, I need you to deliver a message to my son," Mamó said.

  The unusualness of Mamó's remark took my attention away from my patient. "You're sending Shamus to Uncle Lomán? Why not send a Pixie?"

  I couldn’t remember a single instance when she had used Shamus to do a simple message delivery. Shamus himself looked startled by the suggestion.

  "This is too important. Shamus, I can't trust anyone but you." The wiry-haired man nodded. "I will take my leave from you as well," she said to me. "I need to have a conversation with Gilleagán. It cannot wait any longer."

  "Of course, Mamó. Thank you for your help. Matt will take over." Matt nodded his agreement.

  My grandmother went over to Alexander before she left. She leaned over and whispered into his ear, "Remember all I have told you of the treasure." She turned to go.

  "You know I believe his color is coming back," she remarked, pausing before she slipped out the door.

  When we were alone, Matt looked me over critically. "Tressa, you don't look good. Most of your sparkle is gone."

  A laugh rose in my throat spontaneously. I knew he was being literal, but it was ironic how perfectly his words described how I felt inside.

  "Yes indeed, I have lost my sparkle."

  He looked at me with concern, "You should get some fresh air. You've been inside the house for too long. It's a beautiful day."

  The suggestion sounded appealing. The breeze on my face and the smell of the forest would truly refresh my spirits. Maybe I could take a short swim in the lake. Mamó had said his color was returning, and I was sure she was referring to his aura, not his skin.

  "I'm supposed to be eating and resting now," I said, hesitating.

  "I brought sandwiches; they're down in the kitchen. Why not take one down to your spot by the lake?"

  I touched Alexander's forehead. His skin was cooler. The purple webbing had receded to where I saw none on the front of his neck or shoulders. Alexander stirred when I pulled at his shirt to see the webbing on the back of his neck. He mumbled something I didn't quite catch. I leaned closer to him.

  "Say that again," I said.

  "Go. Go to the lake, see Brenna."

  "You want me to go?" I said, hurt that he would dismiss me.

  "I'll be here when you get back." His voice drifted off.

  "He's concerned about you," Matt said. "I am too. You need to get out of here for a little while."

  Alexander's slight nod at Matt's words decided it for me. I would do as they asked. "If I'm not back in an hour, will you come wake me up?"

  "Sure."

  "Don't forget."

  "I won't." He crossed his heart with his finger, a gesture stolen from Sophia.

  One step outside into the fresh air made me realize how stifling the air in the house had become. The pleasant weather boosted my belief that all would be fine.

  I took several deep breaths as I walked, sandwich in hand, toward the lake. The Northern Catalpa trees were in bloom. The fragrance from their white flowers dominated the scents coming from the forest's edge.

  The screech of an owl shattered the fragile peace surrounding me. I recognized the voice of this particular owl. The sandwich slipped out of my hand, forgotten as I ran the rest of the distance to the lake.

  I thought my heart would stop when I saw her. She sat on the ground by the Pixies' tree trunk. She appeared as a young, beautiful woman today, though that wasn't always the case.

  Dressed all in white, her pale yellow hair hung straight and long pulled over her shoulder. The Pixies, subdued for once, sat all in a row on a branch near her head.

  She reached her arms out and I fell into the Banshee's embrace, tears streaming uncensored.

  "Bridget, don't take him. Please, don't take him," I begged, though I knew it was futile. Banshees weren't reapers of souls, although it often appeared that way. They tended to only turn up just before someone passes, in order to help their family mourn their lost loved one.

  She stroked my hair.

  "Tressa, darling, you know I don't take them. I don't even know for whom I am here. You know this."

  She must be here to mourn Alexander with me. Who else could it be? He had been at death's door for the last three days.

  I jerked up, realizing I was wasting valuable time. Why had I come out here? I should be with him. What if he passed away and I wasn't there?

  I ran three steps and flitted to the farmhouse door.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Before I could go in, I heard shouts from the Manor House. Keelin and Rosheen screamed my name as they ran toward me. I was momentarily torn, but I couldn't ignore the girls' cries for help. I wiped my tears away with the back of my hand.

  They reached me before I had even taken a step in their direction. Something black was covering their face and clothes. I touched Rosheen, and the blackness came off onto my fingertips. In one horrified second, I realized the substance was soot. There was a sharp odor of smoke in the air.

  "Tressa, come quick," Rosheen cried.

  I wanted to go with her, but I couldn't make myself move toward what was obviously a fire.

  "We can't find Mamó," Keelin wailed.

  I looked at her, wanting to believe it was a hoax, a silly drama my cousins were playing. The truth was evident in Keelin's wild eyes.

  A panic hit me more violently than my fear of the fire. I ran back with them. We didn't go far before I saw the flames shooting out of the Manor house's second story windows.

  How could the fire have spread so fast?

  Connor and Jenny came around the corner of the building, supporting Holly between them. At the same time, Connor used his cell phone to report the fire to the emergency services.

  They helped Holly to the ground under a tree a safe distance from the burning building. I guided the twins over to them and encouraged them to sit with Holly.

  "Where's Mamó?" I shouted at the newcomers. They all denied seeing her. Mentally taking a head count, I shouted to Connor, "What about Gil?"

  He shook his head, and we all looked around us. Gilleagán emerged from the corner of the house, following the same path the others had just come. I ran towards him, but I stumbled and tripped. He reached for me, but I fell to the ground. I hastened to my feet and grabbed his arm.

  "Mamó? Have you seen her?" I shouted.

  "No," he said as he turned and watched the house burn. I shook his arm.

  "She said she was going to talk to you. Didn't you see her?"

  A piece of the roof crashed in, flames leaping up through the hole. The glass on the window closest to us burst out and I screamed, imagining the flames coming at me.

  "Shamus told me she wanted me in her bedroom suite. On my way there I heard people yelling."

  I didn't understand how he could be so calm when I was nearly hysterical. Someone said something behind me, but I wasn't listening.

  "You mean she's still in there?" I screeched, staring horrified at the burning house. I took a few steps toward it, but when I felt the heat of the fire I froze. "Where's Shamus?" I looked frantically for him. The fire wouldn't hurt a Brounie.

  "He flitted somewhere after he spoke to me," Gilleagán said.

  Mamó had sent him to the Otherworld. He couldn't help her. The heat from the crackling fire wafted over me. I took a jagged breath as I fought the nearly overwhelming urge to run away. However, my desire to save my grandmother gave me unknown strength. I took a step toward the burning building. Then another.

  Someone behind me pulled me back. I turned to see it was Bridget. Her sympathy-filled cry told me it was too late. She had come to mourn my grandmother.

  "No, no, no!" I yelled at her. I had to get Mamó out. No one else moved to help her, so I had to do it myself. Blinded by tears and rage, I ignored the suffocating fear and ran toward the
house. I tripped over a root and fell again. I sat on my knees and screamed in anguish as the rest of the roof collapsed.

  Then Alexander was there, kneeling next to me. He wrapped me in his arms and pulled me to him. I leaned on him and sobbed; deep, painful sobs. He made soothing noises as he rocked me like a child. I heard the women around me crying as well.

  When the keening started and Bridget began her awful wail, I knew Mamó was gone. I grabbed onto Alexander's shirt and buried my face in his chest.

  Suddenly, a pain shot through me like a strong electrical shock. I stiffened and let out a gasp.

  "Tressa, what's wrong?" Alexander asked.

  I wasn't able to answer him. My mind felt scrambled, as if electrical pulses were bouncing around inside of me. Finally, the sensation stopped, leaving me with a mammoth headache. I closed my eyes to block out the pain.

  When I opened them again, nothing looked the same. The color of the flames was more intense. The fire seemed to be alive. Huge thick clouds of unfamiliar colors surrounded me. No two clouds were the same color. They too moved as if they were alive.

  Gradually, I understood. My grandmother had bestowed her gift of Aura Sight on me. I was seeing the auras of the surrounding people. Aura Sight evidently affected the way everything looked, not just people.

  I remembered that Mamó said she had been overwhelmed by the auras at first, but she learned to control how much they dominated her vision.

  I stared at someone who stood away from the rest. The color of the aura was a mixture of earth tones: greens, browns, and creams. Whoever the person was, they stood perfectly still, which is why I tried gaining control of my sight with them. However, after a minute of staring I still couldn’t break through to see the person beneath.

  There was a group gathered close together under a tree. Their auras, though they touched, were quite distinct and separate from one another. I tried to remember what Mamó had said at that tea that seemed so long ago; something about auras having varying degrees of light and dark.

  With that knowledge, I found it easy to separate the clouds between human and Sidhe. The Sidhe auras were markedly lighter than the human auras, although each individual had a different color and pattern indistinguishable by race.