by Jane Godman
“Yeah. You too.” Ged realized as he spoke that he was going to have to be creative with the travel arrangements. Getting a dog from Germany to America without any paperwork was going to require all his ingenuity. Taking a dog to Callistoya, a magical land where canines were viewed as a symbol of bad luck? “I don’t know how you fit into this adventure, but I hope you’re worth it.”
Bruno wagged his tail and went back to sleep.
* * *
Lidi stirred as the dog in her lap became restless. She had fallen asleep in total darkness; now, as she opened her eyes, she could see a hint of lighter color to the sky through the bus window. Dawn hadn’t arrived, but it was heralding its approach. She stretched and turned her head.
Oh, my goodness. Ged’s smile. Up close. Just as she was waking up. It did things to her insides that were both delicious and unnerving.
She cleared her throat, more to give herself a few seconds of thinking time than because the action was necessary. “Where are we?”
“Just outside the German city of Freiburg. You’ve slept through three countries.”
Her hand went to her hair and she grimaced as her fingers encountered the wig. “I have? Were they interesting?”
“No. Rest assured, the freeways of Italy, Switzerland, France—and now Germany—are identical to those of any other country.”
She leaned across him to peer out of the window, conscious of the hard muscles of his chest against her shoulder. As she did, Bruno whined and shuffled as though attempting to get comfortable.
“I think he may need a comfort break,” Lidi said.
“He’s probably not the only one. It’s been a long time since we last stopped,” Ged said. “Let me talk to the driver and see what I can do.”
He made his way to the front of the bus, returning a few minutes later. “He said he was planning to stop in an hour for gas. He’ll reschedule and do it now.”
Before long, the bus was slowing as it pulled into the brightly lit parking lot of a large rest stop. Ged looked out of the window. “We can get some breakfast.”
On cue, Lidi’s stomach gave an enormous rumble. “That sounds like a great plan.”
Because they didn’t have much time, Lidi took Bruno to the designated “pet area” while Ged went to check out the menu in the dog-friendly restaurant.
“I want the biggest cooked breakfast they do, washed down with a vat of coffee,” Lidi told him.
After the dog’s basic needs had been taken care of, Lidi headed toward the restrooms, tying Bruno’s leash to a metal post outside while she used the facilities. When she returned and untied him, they walked toward the main rest-stop building.
Once they were inside, Lidi took a moment to look around, scanning the multilingual signs for directions to the restaurant. The interior resembled a smaller version of some of the shopping malls she had seen on her travels. She was standing in front of an array of all-night stores that offered drivers and passengers the essentials for their journey and tempted them with a few luxuries. There were also some stands, similar to market stalls, dotted around the space and, despite the early hour, the vendors were setting out their wares. Her mind was on her breakfast and Lidi barely noticed the collection of arts and crafts produced by local artists.
She was forced into abrupt awareness when Bruno unexpectedly pulled hard on his leash. Before Lidi could stop him, he had dragged her across to one of the booths and jumped up excitedly at the woman who was arranging her goods. Placing his paws on the back of her knees, he uttered a sharp bark. Startled, the woman dropped the stack of pictures she’d been holding.
“I’m so sorry.” Lidi knelt on the marble tiles as she helped the woman gather the scattered images together. “I don’t know what got into him.”
The salesclerk laughed. “I have dogs.” Her English was near perfect. “Sometimes they don’t need a reason.”
The prints Bruno had knocked over were an array of photographs depicting pretty German villages and fairy-tale castles. As Lidi handed them over, another picture, lying on the floor a little distance away, caught her eye. As she reached for it, she had the strangest sensation of time slowing to a crawl.
Unlike the other images, this was a painting, a haunting scene in which tall trees stood like sentinels guarding soaring mountains. While the lower slopes were dappled with greenery, the higher reaches wore a lacy shroud of snow. Above the granite peaks the sky, brooding and bruised, rolled on into infinity.
I know that sky. The thought caused Lidi’s heart to beat out a new rhythm. But it can’t be what I think it is...
She lifted the picture closer, knowing as she did that her gaze would catch the distant, mirrorlike glint of a lake, and—there!—high upon a distant summit, she would just make out the distinctive, colorful turrets of an ancient fortress.
Pressing a fist tight against her chest, she took a moment to regulate her breathing. How was this possible? How was it that here, in a rest stop in the heart of Germany, she was looking at a painting of the mountain region around the royal palace of Callistoya?
It must be a coincidence.
Telling herself that meant she was able to regain a sense of calm. Yes, the painting was perfect in its detail. But the person who painted it couldn’t have been to Callistoya. Unless, of course, he, or she, was a bear shifter. The chances of that were almost nonexistent. Add in the possibility of that person painting a picture and Lidi coming across it here, today. The bus wasn’t even meant to stop in this place. She shook her head. It was more likely that the painter had chanced upon a scene in his or her imagination and that it happened to look scarily like her homeland.
Wait until I tell Ged about this.
On the subject of Ged...he would be waiting for her, and so would her breakfast. She took another look at the picture, shaking her head over the striking similarities to the scenery of the Callistoya mountain range. Who was the unknown artist who had captured it so perfectly? Tilting it to the light, she read the tiny signature in the bottom corner of the painting.
Andrei Tavisha.
Chapter 11
Ged wasn’t sure what was keeping Lidi, but if she wasn’t back soon there was a very real danger of him making inroads into her breakfast as well as his own. Just as he was wondering if she would miss one of those delicious sausages, he noticed her approaching him.
He was about to make a joke about his evil intentions toward her food when he realized something was very wrong. She looked like a sleepwalker. Pale-faced and wide-eyed, she stumbled into the seat opposite him and thrust an item into his hand.
“Coffee.” He pointed at the cup he had already poured. “Good and strong.”
Lidi tied Bruno’s leash to the leg of her chair before gratefully wrapping her hands around the coffee mug. She indicated the flat package she’d given him. “Look at it.”
Ged carefully removed several layers of protective tissue paper, then turned the picture over. Long, silent moments passed as he gazed at it. He felt as though his body was closing down, one shallow breath at a time. Although his heart was still beating, his eyes still seeing, he was no longer functioning. So this was what shock felt like. But it was more. Anger, bitterness, pain, relief...all of those things crowded in on him, as well.
He recognized the image in the painting immediately. There was nowhere in the human world quite like Callistoya. Something about the light was different. Or maybe those who came from the magical kingdom just believed it was. Even so, those mountains were unmistakable. As a child, he had believed the peaks were the spine of a sleeping dinosaur.
The painful tug of longing was nothing compared to the rush of emotion that hit him when he saw the signature. Thirteen years of searching for his brother. Now this. He didn’t know whether to be hurt or happy. Didn’t even know if he could allow himself to feel anything in case his hopes were about to be dashed into a t
housand pieces.
“Where...?” The word was a croak, forced out through a throat that was almost closed.
“A booth near the entrance.” Lidi had finished her coffee and started eating. No amount of shock could come between a bear shifter and food. Bruno, seated under the table, was eagerly devouring his own breakfast.
Ged looked toward the door. He had waited so long for this moment, he was almost scared to ask. “Is he...?”
“No. Andrei isn’t here. I’m sorry. I should have made that clear straightaway.” Lidi placed a hand on his arm. “The woman who sold me the picture explained that she sells the work of local artists. She takes a commission and passes the rest of the proceeds on to the creator of the work.”
“Does she know where he is?”
“Yes and no. She said that this particular artist is very reclusive. Mysterious, that was the word she used to describe him.” Lidi tapped a fingertip on the picture in his hand. “He only ever paints this scene. Every few weeks, he sends a new batch of pictures to her home address and she forwards any payment to a bank in a town called Branheim.” Ged reached for his cell phone, but the action was unnecessary. Lidi tightened her grip on his arm. “I already asked. It’s an hour’s drive from here.”
He leaned back in his chair, his mind whirling as he tried to reach a decision. After all these years of trying and encountering a brick wall of silence, to come this close to finding Andrei...but he had made a commitment to Lidi. Every minute spent on the road was another minute during which her father languished in a cell. Another minute that might draw Vasily’s men closer to tracing her.
Anguish tore at him as he tried to work through the arguments for and against halting their journey and going to Branheim. Apart from his uncle, his brother was all Ged had left of his old life. In human years, Andrei had been fifteen at the time of the massacre. The five-year age difference meant the brothers had been close, but their interests had been dissimilar. The idea of Andrei growing up in the mortal realm, reaching shifter maturity, without anyone to support him deepened the ache in Ged’s heart.
“We have to find him.” Lidi took control, overriding his indecision.
“But your father...”
“No. You don’t understand.” She pointed to the animal at their feet. Bruno, having finished his meal, was carefully removing any trace of grease from his whiskers by rubbing his face against Ged’s jeans. “Bruno made us stop the bus. He dragged me to a booth where that painting wasn’t even on display. He knocked it out of the stall owner’s hand, so I was forced to pick it up.”
“Are you saying he knew it was there?”
Shifter DNA was unique. Half-human, half-animal, they had the ability to adapt to either environment. While their human counterparts were raised in a world of science and technology, shifters knew magic was real. They were the living proof that the supernatural existed. Even so, Ged was still having a hard time believing the funny little dog was an enchanted being.
“Think about it, Ged.” He might have been struggling with the idea, but he could tell from her solemn expression that Lidi was convinced. “We only stopped here, an hour from the town where your brother lives, because of Bruno. This was meant to happen.”
He shook his head, trying to clear the jumble of thoughts that were threatening to overwhelm him. Could it be true? He was inclined to treat the dog as a joke, a living, breathing fluffy toy. Yet the evidence that Bruno was something more than an ordinary canine was stacking up so high it could no longer be ignored.
Even so, he felt the need to issue a challenge. “What if we hadn’t decided to travel to Frankfurt? We could just have easily have decided to fly from Milan to Moscow.”
The set of Lidi’s jaw told him he wasn’t going to win this argument. “Bruno would have found a way to stop us. He’d have made sure we came this way.” She ducked her head to look under the table. “Wouldn’t you, boy?”
Bruno gave a joyful bark and bounded up onto the seat next to Ged. Placing both paws on Ged’s leg, he gazed up at him. It would be crazy to imagine there was anything in that face beyond canine affection. Yet as he looked into the shining depths of the dog’s eyes, he knew there was more. Whether it was empathy, or a deeper understanding, it was impossible to say. All he knew for sure was he couldn’t dismiss Lidi’s certainty as lightly as he wanted to. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try.
“Just remember we have a no-licking rule.” He spoke lightly and Bruno gave him his best doggie grin in return.
He was conscious of Lidi watching him. Part of him wanted to explain. This is what I do. Keep it light. Brush it off. Never delve too deep into the emotions. But if he told her that, he’d be halfway to opening up.
Before he could speak, she was getting to her feet. “We should get our bags from the bus.” She stooped to untie Bruno’s leash. As she straightened, she leaned closer, her face tilted up to Ged’s. “One day, you should try opening up to your feelings and forget about hiding behind the jokes.” The touch of her lips against his cheek was so fleeting he might almost have imagined it. “Who knows? You might enjoy it.”
* * *
“There’s one thing I don’t understand,” Ged said.
The only rental car available on short notice had been a two-door Volkswagen. While it was functional, it was very small. Ged, who was driving, was hunched over the steering wheel as he glanced from the dashboard GPS display to the road ahead.
“Only one?” Lidi turned in her seat so she could study his profile. One positive result of this detour was that they had temporarily discarded the disguises. It was a relief to see him without the beard and mustache. “You are several steps ahead of me if you are able to make sense of the woman called Allie as well as our magical tour guide.” She jerked a thumb in the direction of the back seat on which Bruno was stretched full-length as he slept off his large breakfast.
“Actually, I was thinking of something more mundane.” He managed a quick glance in her direction. “You’ve spent all your life in Callistoya, where motor vehicles are almost unheard of. Yet once you entered the mortal world, you not only managed to hot-wire a car, you also knew how to drive it.”
“Ah.”
“Just ah? Not ah, you’ve stumbled upon my dreadful secret, which is that I am a human car thief?”
She laughed. “Nothing so exciting. My father sent one of his generals on an undercover mission to the mortal realm, and to make it look realistic, he had to learn how to drive. Much to the dismay of my parents, I was always snooping around, trying to discover any new techniques the soldiers might have. When I saw this...thing they’d acquired, I was intrigued. They humored me by showing me what they were doing.”
“How did they get a car in the first place?” Ged asked.
“It was stolen from across the border. To be fair, I don’t think anyone would have missed it. It was more a pile of rust than an actual car. As for my driving ability?” She smiled at the memory. “I sort of made that up as I went along. Luckily I was able to stay on quiet roads while I mastered it.”
Ged groaned. “So asking you to take over to save my spine isn’t an option?”
“Sorry.” She looked out of the windshield at the busy freeway. “That sounds like a surefire way to get stopped by the mortal traffic police.”
They drove on in silence. Lidi was aware of the tension emanating from Ged and wished she could find a way to broach the subject with him. If only he would talk to her about his feelings. In the short time she had known him, she had learned that his coping strategy was to use humor when things got too close to his emotions. To a certain extent, she understood. Although her own bear genes acted as a barrier to feelings, in Lidi’s case, her human persona was stronger. That impulsive, passionate side of herself was what her mother had ruthlessly tried to suppress. Until now, she hadn’t analyzed it, but she realized that part of her was responsible for
her rebellious streak. She wasn’t letting go of who she was. Bears were meant to be impassive. Lidi couldn’t live a cold, colorless life.
Had Ged always been this way, or had his responses been affected by the awful events leading up to his exile? She had already answered the question in thinking about her own life. Ged took the typical bear-shifter indifference to a whole new level. And yet...at times like this, she could sense the raw emotion within him.
Maybe it was because they were drawn together as mates, but her intuition told her he wasn’t unfeeling. On the contrary. He felt too much. That big, powerful body was a mass of quivering nerves, and he was fighting to suppress the conflict raging inside him. If only she could find a way to break down the barriers and help him.
They left the freeway and drove along narrow country lanes. Snow dusted the fields like icing on a cake, and the trees, long bare of their leaves, pointed icy fingers toward the iron gray sky. Because they didn’t have an exact address, they would be turning up in the town of Branheim and starting their hunt for Andrei with no real clues as to his whereabouts.
“The internet search I did showed that Branheim is little more than a village,” Ged said.
“That may be a good thing,” Lidi said. “If we were heading for a big city, our task would be so much harder.”
His expression was grim. “Maybe the hardest part will come once we find him.”
After a few more miles, some buildings came into view, including a white-painted church and several traditional German houses. Ged parked the car near a town square and eased his long limbs out of the cramped space. Lidi followed him, lifting Bruno from the car and placing him on the frosty ground. The dog, thoroughly overexcited at being out in the open, ran around in circles, tangling himself in his lead.
“I see our psychic guide is being as intelligent and dignified as ever,” Ged remarked. “Can you see anything that looks like a bank?”