Kenzo’s head spun toward the shrill sound, and he shivered. “That hurts my ears. What is it?”
“Some strange kind of energy, for sure,” Lyra replied.
The tidy, white turreted Victorian bed and breakfast across the road gave no energy clues. Upstairs, a soft yellow light shone against a drawn blind, probably a guest enjoying a late night read.
They drove past the two houses around a curve and into a darker stretch, lined on either side by woods. Heavy limbs overhung the roadway and blotted out what little moonlight filtered through an overcast sky.
Suddenly, Lyra’s breath caught. “Stop here,” she whispered. “I feel familiar energy again. But there’s something or someone nearby with a different and incredible energy. Can you feel it?”
“No. I can’t.” Cullen’s whitened knuckles grasped the steering wheel tighter. “I’ve even employed my aura to heighten my detection.”
“Me neither,” Kenzo added. “But it hurts.” He drooped the feathers covering his ears over the openings.
Lyra strained to see through the darkness of the dense forest. “I need to get out and see what it is. I think we’re close to where that book is stored.”
“Kenzo, stay here,” Cullen said as he pulled to the shoulder. He withdrew his wizard’s staff and joined Lyra as she led the way.
“It’s stronger this direction.” She froze, looked into the trees, and whispered, “Listen.”
“I only hear a shrill whistling in the tree tops.”
“In a higher pitch than that—a woman’s voice chanting. I can’t make out all the words.” She turned all around, then faced into the right side of the forest. “It’s coming from that way. There’s a road cutting off. Let’s follow it.”
“All right. I’m with you. Let me know what you sense so I can fight if needed.” He followed close behind as she walked along the side of the road to where a gravel lane connected.
“I can hear the words ‘bees’ and ‘family’ in the chant. It’s got to be the place.” Lyra looked over her shoulder at him. “The voice is moving ahead. I’m going faster. Stay close.”
Set back a long distance from the main road, they walked into a large yard of an old house. Dew on the tall grass soaked through Lyra’s socks at her ankles. The house stood in dark shadows of large oaks. Its peeling paint camouflaged it in the dappled light. The porch leaned, and the steps had fallen away. With that much disrepair, it looked deserted.
The woman’s chant grew louder, and her tone crackled.
Lyra’s body shook with the unfamiliar vibrations, energy from a world Cullen couldn’t sense. Would her own magic hold up if this turned out to be dangerous? Hit by a wave of electricity, Lyra’s stomach flipped. She clamped onto Cullen’s forearm to steady herself. When she straightened, she noticed a wide-trunked tree at the back of the property. It stood behind a small group of gravestones near the edge of the forest. The branches whipped wildly in the breeze, more than the limbs of any other trees.
“Draora and her bees protect the hive. Only those of the family keep will be left alive,” the female voice rang clear, escalating in volume. The whistling wind from the tree punctuated the pauses in her speech as she repeated the saying.
Lyra stopped and leaned into Cullen, pointing. “That’s the tree with the keep. It’s not safe for you to go any closer with me.” She reported the mysterious statements.
His hand gripped the shaft of his wizard’s staff until the sapphire cast a subtle spark. “I see the erratic motions of that tree. This is dangerous, and I won’t leave you.”
Lyra crossed the lawn. As she stepped in front of the plot of graves, a light flashed on at the back of the house, and the chanting stopped.
Cullen pulled Lyra down behind a row of bushes.
Between the leaves, she saw the silhouette of a woman at the back door. With a slim shape and graceful posture, she appeared younger than the owner of the scratchy voice carried on the wind. She looked out into the darkness. “Grandma Draora, are you all right?”
Lyra couldn’t determine if the younger woman received an answer, but she cracked the back door part way.
A medium-large dog with a square build and short dark hair bolted out, growling. He headed straight for them.
Cullen twisted his staff and cloaked them in a blanket of blue light, clutching Lyra’s hand while they ran.
Branches crashed down, rolling off the shielding ward. Vines snaked out toward their legs. Again, Cullen’s protection held.
The barking dog kept a steady pace at the back edge of the ward as they ran the length of the long driveway.
When their car came into view, Cullen gasped, “You have to drive. I’m weakening.” He kept the shield until they both got into the car, then he slumped against the seat.
The dog, a snarling Doberman, hurled itself onto the car’s hood and bared its teeth at Cullen.
Kenzo vaulted into the front seat and spread his wings along the windshield.
“Drop your wings! I can’t see,” Lyra cried. He quickly folded and she whipped the car into the entry of the lane, then fast into reverse. As she sped away, the dog lost balance and dropped off. Lyra’s heart thudded in her chest. She watched in the mirror as it tried to follow.
Without slowing at Vickie’s house, Lyra glanced over. “Look!” She pointed to the right. The front room and porch were now lit. A woman paced back and forth by the tall windows. The familiar energy of her ancestors had changed from a gentle, comforting hum to a painfully shrill buzz.
Chapter Twenty-four: The Honey Tree
Lyra clamped her shaking hands onto the steering wheel. In the parking space in front of their motel room, she lowered her head onto her arms. “Is it safe to go inside?”
“I think so,” Cullen said as he scanned the surrounding hillside before they transferred from car to room. “Clearly, you were right. Whoever is guarding that keep senses my energy and won’t let me near.” He secured both locks on the door after they entered. “Maybe your cousin will know more.”
“Yes. I doubt Vickie will try to hurt you. She always seemed nice the couple times we visited.” She wrapped an arm under his shoulder. “Thank you for protecting us. Are you okay?”
“I will be. I can transfer some energy stored in my staff to my aura.” He ran a hand along the crystals of his wizard’s staff.
“Won’t that weaken it?”
He nodded. “Protecting you is important.”
Kenzo found a perch on the back of a chair and pulled his neck close to his torso. “I’ll take a short nap, then keep watch.”
“Lyra, you need sleep after that long drive, in case I can’t back you up. Your aura alone can read whoever guards the keep. There’s something valuable stored in that tree, even if it’s not Sorcha’s book.” He checked the bathroom and motioned her to join him. “Conjure some toiletries and clothes for both of us. Clean up and you’ll feel more relaxed.”
Lyra rolled her eyes, unable to believe her body would accept sleep, but made an attempt.
After showering, she snuggled into bed with Cullen spooned at her back.
“I’m going to spend some energy to relax your mind, like I did for you after your aunt’s death,” he whispered.
“I don’t need—” Lyra didn’t want him to waste energy on her.
“Shh.” He caressed her hair.
One by one, she felt her worries slip away like clouds moving across the sky. He carefully guided her mental processes into a meditative state, and then sleep spilled over her like an ocean wave lapping the sand.
***
From her seat on the edge of the bed, Lyra dialed the number, twisting a strand of hair as the phone rang.
“Hello,” Vickie said tentatively.
“Vickie, this is Lyra McCauley…your cousin. My family visited yours a few times when we were little.” She waited, hoping for recognition.
“Yes. Oh, yes. Lyra. It’s good to hear from you.” She spoke quickly, her tone bubbly and light.
Her cousin didn’t respond, although her breathing sounded louder.
“Vickie? Are you still there?” Lyra asked, twisting the strand of hair tighter.
“Yes. That sounds fine.” After some initial hesitation, her happier manner returned. “I need to head over to the B&B across the road where I help out. Then, I’ll have some time. Or if you haven’t had breakfast, come on over. There’s always a ton of food.”
“Great. You live on Bean’s Blossom road, right? I’ll be bringing my fiancé.”
“Yes. We do. See you soon.”
Lyra said goodbye and looked at Cullen, who sat beside her and listened during the conversation. “Something is upsetting her.”
Kenzo stared at her, blinking one eye, then the other.
“It certainly is. I think we’re about to learn what.” Cullen picked up the keys. “I’ll drive. Do we need to check out or make arrangements to stay another night?”
“Let’s check out. Even though I know we won’t make it back to Michigan today, I can’t imagine staying around here another night.” With some simple incantations, she cleared away any dirty clothes strewn over chairs and toiletries from the bathroom.
***
The town looked more familiar in daylight. The sleepy looking, old red brick buildings on the main street had the same shapes, although a few had been refurbished with new fronts. The Nawbone Grill looked exactly as Lyra remembered, with red vinyl upholstered booths lining the long front window. The few people who sauntered along the sidewalk paused and watched them drive past.
“Must not be peak tourist season now,” Cullen commented, turning the corner.
“The fall color change is the busy time here, but it gives me the chills how everyone stares at us.”
Minutes later, they parked in the gravel driveway beyond a sign that read Maple Leaf Bed and Breakfast. The three-story white Victorian stood proud, its fretwork intact and freshly painted.
“Be sure to remain out of sight,” Cullen looked over his shoulder and directed his assistant.
Lyra opened the whitewashed gate and admired the lovely yellow daffodils as they passed to the front door. The flowers reminded her of Aunt Jean. Thoughts of all the strong women in her family, all the Scribes, encouraged Lyra to stand tall and carry their goals forward. Before she could lift the brass knocker, Vickie opened the door, her brunette ponytail flowing behind her.
She pushed past the screen door and wrapped both arms around Lyra. “It’s good to see you. It’s been so long.” The softness of her cousin’s chubby shape made the embrace feel snug like a bear hug.
“It has.” Lyra opened to one side and waved at Cullen. “Vickie, this is my fiancé, Cullen Drake.”
He hesitated, beginning a bow before catching himself. Only when Vickie held out a hand did he accept and flash his charming smile. “Hello. Nice to meet you.”
“Lyra, he’s handsome. We have some things to talk about, like how you caught this guy.” With a laugh, she led them inside to the dining room. “Take a seat where you like. We only have one couple staying, so you have your pick.”
They made themselves comfortable at a table for two, covered with a white linen cloth and decorated with fresh flowers in an antique porcelain vase.
Vickie handed them a homemade card with the breakfast choices. The smells of bacon and pastries coming from the kitchen made Lyra’s mouth water.
After a delicious meal of strawberry croissants dripping with the local honey, they rested on the wide front porch for a few minutes while Vickie finished her work. It was a rare sunny day, and the warmth heartened Lyra as much as the meal. She took hold of Cullen’s hand while they rocked on the porch swing. In this idyllic, relaxed country setting, it didn’t seem possible that danger existed. The events of last night blurred in her mind like a bad dream.
“All finished. At least it’s a nice spring day for you two to enjoy while you waited on me,” Vickie said as she stepped onto the porch. She stuffed her hands into the pockets of her jeans, looked down at the curve in the road, and started for the steps. “Let’s head over to my place where we can talk like family.”
Lyra followed, unsure whether talking like family was a good thing or not. As they passed their car, she caught a glimpse of Kenzo’s white wing feathers and hoped her cousin didn’t notice.
Inside Vickie’s cozy living room, the couple sat on a flowered couch while the hostess nestled into a much-loved velour recliner. “No one else is home now. Our two boys are at school, and Bob works at the feed store today.” A cat jumped into her lap and purred as she stroked its back and tail, giving it her full attention.
A silence fell on the room, and Lyra felt a lump form in the back of her throat. She coughed, uncertain how to begin. “In my genealogy project, I’ve come across information about a book. It belonged to an important woman in our fathers’ family, generations ago. It’s supposedly hidden in an old tree, once used to hang skeps for honey bee hives. Do you know anything about that?”
Vickie continued to rub the cat’s fur. Without looking up, she said, “You came out this way last night, didn’t you?”
Lyra fidgeted in her seat, and Cullen reached for his pack on the floor, placing it by his side.
“I felt the winds pick up and knew it was that old honey tree. I sat bolt upright in bed. You woke up the ghost of Draora. You must have the family witchcraft.” Vickie pushed the cat off and resettled herself in the chair.
“The ghost of Draora?” Lyra asked, her eyes widening.
“Four generations ago, a powerful witch named Draora lived in this valley. She was related to us, a cousin to our great, great grandmother Brigid who also inherited the gift. They were good friends. Draora lived in the house around the bend.” Vickie pointed in the direction of the house Lyra and Cullen had visited.
She nodded. “We saw it last night. It looked deserted, with rickety porches and an unmowed lawn. What I think was the honey tree stood at the back of the property. I heard a woman chant a warning with a raspy voice.”
“Draora and her bees protect the hive. Only those of the family keep will be left alive,” her cousin recited. “I’ve heard it a few times other than last night. In fact, I heard it just a couple days ago. Like you said, it’s a warning to those who aren’t family who approach the honey tree.” She looked at Cullen. “Obviously you were the one being warned.”
“Does anyone live in the house?” Lyra asked.
Vickie nodded. “A distant granddaughter of Draora. Her name is Raylene. She’s a witch too, but not nearly as powerful. She’s taken it as her calling to guard Draora’s grave. She claims to communicate with the ghost and that Draora teaches her witchcraft. I try not to get involved. But, she is a distant relation and a neighbor, so I try not to cross her. She has a wicked temper.”
“We discovered that much already, when she set her attack dog chasing us,” Cullen added, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees.
“Chasing you, not Lyra.”
“So can I get what I want from that tree if Cullen stays away?” Lyra placed a hand on his knee.
“Probably. Draora’s ghost accepted you. It’s Raylene who’ll be on alert against you. What is it you want exactly? I can go with you and soften our cousin a bit. She’ll take my word.”
“I’m looking to find a book written by our grandmother, probably four times removed from Brigid. It will help me piece together a common goal she held with Brigid, something they used their magic to accomplish.”
Vickie raised an eyebrow. “I can’t imagine the work you must have done to discover that lead. When you fit the pieces together, will you share what you find with me?”
“Oh, yes. I’ll be glad to.” Lyra smiled, relieved that the price for her cousin’s help was that simple. “When can we go?”
“We can visit Raylene
in about an hour. She works mornings at the library. In the meantime, I think you might enjoy poking around in my antique barn.” Vickie stood and led them through the house to the back door. At least a dozen barnyard cats and kittens surrounded her legs as she stepped onto the porch. “I know. It’s feeding time. Give me a minute.”
The antique barn stood at the end of a circular gravel drive. The unpainted cedar boards had weathered to a silvery gray, but signs fixed to the gable were cheery and bright. The freehand lettering added an artsy charm to lure tourists. Lyra still sensed the draw of ancestral power and wondered what treasures she’d find that belonged to the family.
“Actually, I have many things that were Brigid’s. I don’t know what you’d like, but I’ll gladly give them to you.” Vickie slid open the wide, planked door and turned on several bare bulb lights that hung from rafters. An eclectic mix of vintage household items, paintings by local artists, lovingly restored furniture pieces, and handmade crafts filled every inch of the store.
An old rocker caught Lyra’s attention. She moved aside a cloth doll and took a seat. Memories from a past that wasn’t hers flashed through her mind—happy faces of children and mothers singing to babes in their arms. She covered her eyes with her hands and let out a sigh. “Did this chair belong to her?”
“It sure did.” Vickie smiled as she rooted in a display case. “I can tell you’re picking up on some vibrations. You have strong powers, probably a lot like hers from what was told.”
Lyra reached out and touched Cullen’s hand.
He jumped as if startled, gaining a sampling of what she experienced.
“Here,” Vickie announced. “This is what I was looking for.” She held up a small leather book and walked over to the rocker. “This was a diary Brigid kept as a young girl. You might learn some things about her life for your research.”
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