Maybe she wouldn't have been so much in a hurry if she could have seen their future.
"Would I do it over?" she asked as she crossed the field. "Yes. I would do it all over again for every moment we've had together."
The conviction stayed with her as she stepped up onto the three steps leading to the gazebo floor. The railing needed painting, but was still mostly white. Above it looked as if the roof had been patched a time or two from the inside. Her memory made it whole again. She walked around inside of it, looking for anything out of the ordinary. A missing shingle, a small hole, anything where some little bit of magic might hide. This had to be the place. Coming back down the stairs, she went around the outside. Nothing unusual there. Her former surety began to slide. Was this the right place? Had she maybe misjudged? What if it was the laundromat where they first met that held the magic of the heart? That could be it. With a sigh, she looked up at the sky. As if summoned from her memory, dark clouds spilled over the horizon toward her.
"Soon the park will be drenched with rain," she said. "Just like that night." It was a long hike back to the car and she'd undoubtedly get caught in the rain before she got there. Would it be better to wait it out there? She didn't have time to wait it out. Impatience needled her. She needed to find the next piece before night closed in and she had to sleep.
Sleeping, understandably, worried her. So far everything had come in dreams. What if she couldn't fight off the dreams coming for her? She looked at the horizon with its boiling thunderheads and said, "I'll have to chance it."
The first thick droplets of rain began to fall long before those gray clouds made it overhead. The sun still shone as they splattered into the grass. Marie hurried back to the path that would lead her on its winding way back to the north end and her car. Lightning flashed in the distance and thunder rolled far away, the heralds of the true storm to come. This was only the warm up. The curtain of rain grew thicker and Marie started to run despite being in the wrong attire and shoes. Urgency aided her steps.
By the time she reached the car, she was swimming through the wet air. Her hair dripped and ran down her back. Her jacket was soaked. She threw herself into the driver's seat and slumped against the wheel.
"Maybe the laundromat."
Except, her mind reminded her, it no longer existed. Marie groaned. The laundromat where they first met had been bulldozed a few years earlier to make way for new condominiums. It couldn't be the place.
"Then where?"
She racked her brain for other possibilities. Their first date? A Waffle House not far from her first apartment where the four of them had gone after one of Kevin's shows.
"A Waffle House, really?"
Even for the strange logic of this, that seemed farfetched. It had to be something that was special to them. The rain drummed arhythmically on the car adding a counterpoint to her speeding thoughts. First kiss? The fountain in front of her graduate classroom. So many students saw them that she was getting kissy faces from students for the rest of the semester. But that hadn't been a magical moment, not like this one. It felt so certain this had to be it.
She stared out into the rain sheeting down on the windshield. Pulling the orb out of her purse, she stared into it. The clouds continued to move before a wind she couldn't feel. They had darkened some as if they were bringing down rain as well. Marie tossed it from hand to hand, shaking it to see if that would have any effect. It didn't. With a sigh, she started the car. Then she shut it off again. She hadn't checked the roof.
How many times had they snuck out there when she was supposed to be doing something else just so they could hang out and look at the stars? In the rain it would be slippery at absolute best, dangerous at worst. She could fall and bust her head wide open. Yet if it was going to be somewhere, maybe it was there. A little bit of magic left over from her life. Exactly what she needed to build herself up strong enough to take on anything. She put the orb back in her purse and did what she could to prepare to weather the storm. Then she plunged out into it.
The hike back to the gazebo was slippery in places and treacherous where the water pooled. If there had been anyone else in the park before, and Marie hadn't noticed anyone, they were all certainly gone home now. That made her plan more dangerous instead of less. No guarantee of help coming for heaven only knew how long. Yet as she reached the gazebo and considered how she would do this, she told herself it was this or nothing. If she wanted to give up, better to give up before she attempted it. If she got hurt, she would have no one to blame but herself. She went up the gazebo steps and hoisted her leg up onto the railing. Once she held onto a column and had both feet on the rail, she stood up. The rain slashed at her face. Her ears rang with the thrumming. Her nose got water up it. She grabbed the ornamental column cap that curled over to the top of the roof and used it to pull herself up further. Here she had always had Kevin to boost her. Now she was alone. She braced her legs against the column and slowly walked them up an inch at a time. The wood was so slick she could lose her footing at any time. Then she did. Her legs went out from under her and she hung by increasing nerveless fingers to the end cap. It hurt. Fear tripped her heart. She forced herself to breathe slow. Hurrying wouldn't help anything. Again she swung in and braced with the rain beating on her neck. She inched up, carefully, making sure to keep contact. Finally she could see over the edge. The angled roof led up to a single point. There in the tiny cupola she could see something glimmering in the low light.
Sucking in a breath, she hauled hard upwards and groped for purchase. The rain made the roof slick and she had a hard time finding a grip. Her arms burned from the effort of holding herself aloft, but she clung with everything she had. It was there. She just had to get to it. Getting one arm up where she could use it to get on the roof, she made the mistake of looking over the edge at the ground now too far away to be safe. She let out a breath in a slow wheeze and returned her attention to the cupola. Lightning flashed overhead and the orb there pulsed like a star. It waited for her. If only she could seize it.
Up she climbed. One knee came over the edge then the other. She was on her hands and knees on the gently sloping roof. Rain continued to beat on her, but she inched her way forward until she could reach it. She put her hand out for it and, like a tame puppy, it crossed the tiny expanse to her palm. It felt warm lying against the flesh of her palm. It was another orb, but a tiny heart turned in the center. Marie brought the two orbs together and they joined, the two centers drifting close to one another but like stars they remained separate.
Wet to the skin, Marie worked out her best way down. No way could she come down the way she had come up. Her arms hung like lead at her sides. No, her only choice was to jump and hope not to twist an ankle or break something.
Why exactly had she always looked forward to this when she and Kevin were together? It seemed so hazardous now. She knew why. Together everything felt fine. A little danger meant nothing when they had each other. Let that always be the case.
"Two down," she told the storm which made no movement as if it heard. "Where's the third?"
If the cemetery held her mind, embodied by the skull, and the gazebo, her heart, as the place where she felt the most strongly, where had she found her voice?
The fury of the storm seemed to be abating, at least down to a dispiriting drizzle. Being so wet already, Marie hardly noticed, her attention captured by the light in her hands and the dread of getting back down again. Kevin always went first and sort of half-jumped, half-swung down. Then he waited to catch her. She slid to the edge with barely controlled speed and looked down. The distance felt more immense than it actually was. If she was careful and let her feet go first, she would make it. She tossed the little globe on the ground where it rolled in the wet grass, then sliding her feet off first half-fell off the gazebo roof. Her teeth jarred a little when she landed, but all together none the worse for wear. The drizzle continued as she picked up her globe and headed back for the car.
; She felt him before she saw him. At the edge of the trees, the figure of the Dark King stood out against the shadows but only a little. Marie kept walking. She would stop him, but only once she gathered everything together.
In the car, she checked her phone. There was a call from Naomie and one from Kevin within minutes of each other. Neither had left a message. She put the phone away.
In a perfect world, she would have had a dry suit of clothes to change into, but having nothing of the kind, she could only hope to dry out. Sitting in the driver's seat, wet butt squelching, she tried to think of her next move. Two out of three ain't bad, but it wouldn't be enough to take on evil when she needed three. All three were necessary so all three she would have. She just needed a minute to regroup.
Marie started the car and put the heat on to help dry herself out a little faster. Where to go? She couldn't go home. Not yet. Kevin would be there and likely have it out for her. Naomie, despite her strength of will, had probably succumbed as well. So going to the hospital was out. That left one place which came immediately to mind, her office.
The college sat far enough away from everything, she would be safe there. Plus maybe she had at least an extra shirt in the closet. Anything to be a little drier.
As the sun set over the buildings, Marie pulled onto campus. No one would question her being there overnight. Hardly the first time a professor had slept in a building. As long as none of her students were still around to ask questions, she would be home free.
In her office she did find an extra shirt, but that did nothing for her pants. What it did was get the cold clammy feeling away from her heart. Sitting in the chair, she pulled out the globe and put it on the blotter. Its existence was a mystery. It felt hard and when she tapped it with her nail, it had the ringing sound of good glass. Yet inside, like two stars, the centers floated close together. No amount of spinning, throwing from hand to hand, or tossing up in the air seemed to dislodge them.
"I know what you represent, I just have no idea how you came to be."
Saying what she thought aloud seemed safe in her private space. No one around to question. Her mind turned to the matter of the third piece. The triumvirate was incomplete.
"I've been to the graveyard. Sycamore Park doesn't appear in the books, but it made sense." What would make sense now? Something from her past. She scanned the pictures on her desk. Wedding photo of her in her tea-length white dress with a bouquet of the reddest roses they could find. Shot of her and Naomie wearing their gowns and carrying their mortar boards. On the end, a picture of her as a child with both of her parents. It felt so long ago. Probably because circumstances had changed so much. In the picture, Cecilia Coren stood healthy holding her daughter's hand. Behind them and hugging them both was her father, Michael Coren. The photograph had the sepia look of antique photographs taken before the digital age.
Where to go next?
Tiredness began to weigh her down. It had been a long day. She shivered a little. Sleeping in her office didn't appeal, but taking on her husband at home appealed even less. Marie put her head down on the desk pillowed on her arms. All she really needed was a cat nap. Something to let her get her energy back up. Even though night was falling and there would be no reason to go anywhere for a while.
Plus with sleep came dreams. Maybe one would offer up a solution she didn't have yet. Or show her the site of the next fragment. Why did she think of them as fragments? They seemed to be whole all by themselves. Yet once the word occurred to her, it felt perfect. Fragments. Pieces of herself she lost somehow. Her journey meant making herself whole again. Whole so she could destroy the evil trying so hard to wreck everything she'd built.
With a yawn, she wiggled in place, trying to find a comfortable place for her still wet butt and legs and a position of her head that didn't strain her neck.
After a few deep breaths, Marie felt herself drifting. Sleep seemed just on the other side of a veil waiting for her to grasp it with both hands. Eagerly, she did exactly that. No sooner than she made the decision to sleep, sleep was upon her. At first, she experienced the deep dreamless sleep of exhaustion, but as night crawled toward day, something else crept in. First was the smell of a garden with flowers and fruit. Exotic smells tantalizing her senses. Then the sounds of laughter mingled with running water. When she opened her eyes, green surrounded her. Rich leaves swayed in a light breeze. She ran her fingers down the ribs of one feeling the way it just slid under her hand. Nearby a low table sat with cushions piled around it. Above it, a pavilion of carved wood. Observing, she recognized the tea set on the table. The stylized flowers were arabesque and familiar. Her childhood tea set, the survivor of many an imaginary tea party, was like that.
Two children came giggling in from somewhere else in the garden running but not racing. A girl with long hair outpaced a boy with similarly long locks. The two threw themselves down on the pillows. Marie watched them as they each poured a measure of tea out of the long pot.
An empty plate sat next to the pot, undoubtedly the plate of sweets already eaten.
"A little tea. A little cake," the girl said.
"And what a lovely group we make," the boy finished.
That rhyme clicked in Marie's head. Her tea parties always finished with that little poem. Her mother and father had known it well for they were often the fourth at her soirees aside from her imaginary friend and the stuffed panda she loved with all her heart.
Then she felt a sudden chill in the otherwise very warm area. The Dark King stood on the other side of the clearing from her apparently watching the children as well. His words, "Remember the abandoned," echoed across the space at her. Seeing the children, she had to wonder if he meant this as abandoned. She had grown up. Childhood was never abandoned, only built upon. Her dream self wiped her face and rubbed her eyes. Abandoned.
They locked eyes. Marie flinched away first.
"A little tea, a little cake and what a lovely group we make," Marie said, resettling the words in her mind. How many times had she said that over the course of five years? Quite often. Though not friendless, her childhood had been spent largely in her own house, among her own things, and rarely involved anyone else.
The children sat sipping their tea like pretend royalty.
Imaginary friend.
Something clicked.
Marie awoke with a start and shook herself out of her stupor. Sunlight began to creep in the windows. The night fled before day. The globe turned and glowed inches from Marie's eyes. Covering it with her hand, she attempted to make sense of what she now knew.
She would have to go home. Her mouth went dry. Home to her father, who more than likely would be less than pleased to see her. Dread, not as much as she felt at the idea of facing Kevin, settled in her chest. Home. Her heart no longer lived there and maybe that was for the best. However, there she found her voice. Or rather she would once she got there to look. Maybe her father would be out when she got there. Getting up, she stretched in a languid, joint popping way. She would have loved to do a few sun salutations, but there simply was not enough room to do a proper low lunge her office. The walls were too close. She settled for a forward fold followed by a deep back bend to warm up her spine. Stiffness remain, but not nearly as bad as it had been. Marie gathered her things. Time to face the music.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Pulling up in front of the house, Marie got out and surveyed the landscape. The freshly mowed lawn smelled grassy. Along the front of the house, the porch had been recently painted. She could tell because during a previous visit she and her father had discussed painting it. Marie shut the car door with a slam.
Retired Michael Coren had nowhere to be and no reason not to be home. Though occasionally he took aqua aerobics down at the Y. His van, dubbed the Dragon, sat half on the lawn with one wheel missing. A diet cola waited beside the empty wheel well with a tire turned on its side. He couldn't be far. As she stood there, her father came out of the garage carrying a wrench. They met ey
es over the expanse and he opened his arms to her, an invitation she knew better than to ignore. Marie crossed the distance between them and went into his arms. His hug was hard, not quite bone crushing, but enough to pop her back. Relief came quickly when it was over.
"What are you doing here?" No hello. No how are you. No preamble. Just the meat of the business with him. He tended to be good for that.
Looking into his eyes, Marie made a decision: to tell the truth.
"I had a dream that reminded me of home, so I thought I would stop in and see how you were doing."
"All right then, but if you want to talk, we're not doing it out here." He wiped his hands on his jeans, dropped the wrench next to the tire, and picked up the diet cola. Michael led the way into the house as Marie followed. He hadn't changed the decorations in the living room. The bright blue flowers on the wall were leftovers from her mother. Marie wondered if he even saw them anymore. Same with the curio cabinet full of porcelain animals. Things her mother left behind and her father had never seen fit to remove. Maybe they reminded him of her. Mike flopped down in an easy chair. The television played a sitcom, but he must not have been watching it since he had been working on the van.
"So you want to tell me what's been going on?" he asked waving her to a seat.
What to tell him? If anyone would believe every crazy thing that came out of her mouth, her father would at least pretend to. He had always been good at that. Her mother had the more pragmatic streak which had driven Marie into writing. If she was going to tell tall tales, she might as well get paid for it.
"How much do you want to know?"
"I would like to know why a detective showed up here looking to get some background information on you and Kevin."
Marie almost started. Detective Placard must have come to see him; he was the only detective with a reason to come all the way out here. She rounded her attention away from Mike to the blue flowers on the wall. That meant...
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