by Kay L. Ling
She shifted on the grain sacks to face him. “I have two versions,” she said, forcing a smile, “and which one I tell depends on who I’m talking to.” He gave her a quizzical look and she explained, “The version most people get, when we’re making polite conversation, is that I grew up pretty much like an only child and I was a little spoiled.” She shrugged. “By the time I was in grade school, Ed and Alex had graduated from high school. When I was in high school, they were married and I was babysitting their kids. So, they were always more like uncles than brothers.”
“Did you wish you had brothers or sisters your own age like most of your friends?”
“Yes, sometimes.” She laughed. “It was weird having parents the same age as my friends’ grandparents. When I was in gymnastics and softball, and my parents showed up for events, kids who didn’t know better asked why my parents never came. They figured Mom and Dad were my grandparents.”
“That could be awkward,” he said, taking her hand. “Kids can be mean. Did they tease you?”
“Not too much. A few other kids had older parents. I call them ‘second family’ kids. Couples divorce, remarry, and start a new family, even in their forties.”
“If that’s the public, happier version of your life, what’s the other one? Even this version sounds less than idyllic.”
She sighed and looked down for a minute, gathering her thoughts. She didn’t like to complain. Jules said gently, “I don’t mean to pry. If that’s not something you want to talk about, I understand.”
“No, it’s okay. The worst of my problems have always been in my head. Believe it or not, I can be irrational and insecure.”
“That doesn’t sound like you at all.”
“Good. I’m glad to hear that. People who blame everything on what happened in the past annoy me. Everyone has issues. Everyone. No one gets a perfect family.” She paused and then went on as calmly as she could, “Older brothers hear things they shouldn’t. If they were mature, they’d keep their mouths shut. Mine weren’t always mature. My parents were struggling to save money for college tuition and their own retirement when Mom found out she was pregnant with me. She was forty-six, so it was quite a surprise, and not a happy one.”
“But I’m sure they loved you. How could they not?”
“Yes, they did. If my brothers hadn’t said anything, I might never have suspected I wasn’t viewed as the typical bundle of joy. My parents were always affectionate, especially Dad. I think he took me to the store on weekends and did a lot of things with just the two of us to give Mom more free time. She had a full-time accounting job, plus she did the store’s books, and I think she would have given up the accounting job years earlier if our finances had allowed. Which, of course, was my fault, or partly my fault, anyway. They sacrificed things they wanted—new furniture, appliances, a new car—whatever—to make sure I could participate in school sports and have nice clothes and all the things my friends had. We were on a mutual guilt trip,” she said with a hollow laugh. “I felt guilty for being a burden, and they felt guilty for not wanting me at first.”
“All kids are a burden at times. That doesn’t mean their parents don’t want them. You’re too hard on yourself. Now that your parents are older, you’re a godsend. You’ve told me how much they depend on you.”
“Yes, but do I help them out of love or out of guilt? I don’t know.”
“Does it matter? You’re doing the right thing by them, and that’s what counts.”
It was nice of him to say that and she wanted to believe it. “Sometimes I resent my too-busy-to-help brothers. I try not to feel that way. Most of the time I’m not angry with them—just when I’m in a mood.”
“Once you take over the store, you’ll be busier than ever. Maybe it’s time for a talk with your brothers. They need to take over some of your responsibilities.”
“I’ve got nieces and nephews who are old enough to help with house and yard work. That may be the answer, but I hate to be the one to suggest it. I’d rather my brothers came up with the idea.”
“Don’t let irrational guilt turn you into a martyr. Talk to your brothers. As long as you’re willing to shoulder all the burdens, they’ll let you, and that’s not right.”
She smiled. “That’s another thing I like about you. You’re very wise and easy to talk to.”
“You are too.” He pushed back a lock of her hair and held her gaze. “Being together feels . . . right. You’re smart and attractive, which is enough in itself, but more than that, you’re good for me. I feel at peace when I’m with you.”
“That’s one of the nicest compliments I’ve ever had.” She traced a finger over his firm jawline and then over his lips . . . his very kissable lips. His mouth met hers, and he threaded his fingers through her hair as he kissed her. When he finally let her go he said huskily near her ear, “Have I ever told you how much I love your hair? All of you, of course, but especially your hair.” He sat back and grinned at her. “I’ve always had a weakness for long, wavy hair.”
“I promise not to show up next weekend with short hair.”
“Good. I’d have to search for a hair growth spell.”
She laughed. “Happy Book would say I’d never looked lovelier, and Snarky Book would say I’m ugly no matter what.”
“The book’s new personality is a vast improvement, but it’s strange to hear it argue with itself.”
Lana slid off the grain sacks. “We should probably get back before Elias and Tyla start looking for us.”
He got up and handed her the lightgem. “Elias loves to tease us. If he asks where we were, I’ll tell him you wanted to show me something in basement.”
Letting the light play over the piles of sacks, Lana grinned and said, “Well, there is a grain of truth to that.”
Chapter 21
Not only was there no sign of Elias or Tyla when Lana and Jules returned to the library, all the guards were missing. Lana looked around in dismay, searching the torchlit passageway in both directions, but there was no one around.
“Something’s wrong,” she said. “The guards would never leave their post without good reason.”
Jules had faced so many problems lately he seemed fairly calm. “First, we’ll make sure S is still in her cage, and then we’ll look for Elias.”
Lana followed him into the library, trying to ignore the panicky feeling in the pit of her stomach, and was relieved to see S still in the cage. “They should have at least locked the door. Someone could have carried her off.”
“They must have been in a big hurry.”
“What could be so urgent?”
“I wish I knew.”
As they left, S called after them, “A few more disasters like this and you will be sorry for what you did to me.”
Lana stopped and turned toward the cage. She hated to give S the satisfaction, but she had to ask. “What happened? Where is everyone?”
If it were possible for a beetle to smirk, S was smirking. Her whole body twitched with malicious glee. “I heard cries for help and footsteps in the passageway. My guards went to see what was wrong, and someone shouted, “They’re loose! They’re attacking!” She made a chittering sound, like laughter. “I suspect you will find out soon enough.”
Jules pulled Lana away. “Don’t waste your time. She doesn’t know any more than we do.”
Once they were down the passageway, Jules said, “I have no idea who or what could be attacking Shadowglade—assuming there’s any truth to what she said—but we need to stay calm.”
Lana drew on her infused malachite, a protection gem that warned when danger was near. She told Jules, “Something is definitely wrong. Malachite is giving me that unpleasant jittery feeling.”
“My infused foresight gems are no help. All I get are vague impressions.”
While she and Jules were in the basement, they had missed whatever had happened. There was never a good time for problems, but this was especially bad timing since it was Tyla’s first da
y and her family was due this afternoon. If they changed their minds about moving in, it would be a major setback. The library project was critical to Shadow’s development.
They walked several minutes without seeing anyone, but as they neared Elias’s office, they found Tyla and Tina Ann huddled in the passageway. Tyla was nearly hysterical, and Tina Ann, who also looked shaken, was trying to comfort her.
Tina Ann let go of the sobbing gnome, her eyes round with fear. “I glad you be here,” she said breathlessly. “Gem Master Elias left Tyla with me. Told us to stay inside and on no account to go out.”
“What the devil is happening?” Jules demanded.
Tina Ann wet her lips. “Brontskellers. From out of the moat—all four of ‘em.”
Lana shivered. What were brontskellers? She had no idea, and after her run-in with the crocodillos she had a feeling she didn’t want to know.
“I’ve never seen one . . . well, except for the head,” Jules told Lana. “They’re a moat defense. I’ve never heard of one crawling out.”
Tyla let out a whimper. Jules crouched down and took one of her trembling hands. “They can’t get in. Just stay here with Tina Ann and you’ll be fine.”
Tyla’s eyes were red from crying, her tear-stained face puffy. “I should never have come here.”
“Everything will be all right. You’ll see.” He stood and laid a hand on Tina Ann’s shoulder. “Thank you for looking after Tyla. This is her first day here, and it’s bound to be unnerving, even without moat monsters.”
“I keep her safe. Don’t worry,” Tina Ann said bravely, lifting her chin.
Gnomes and breghlin typically disliked and mistrusted one another, so Lana was surprised at Tina Ann’s attitude.
“Is Elias’s office locked?” Jules asked. When Tina Ann shook her head, he said, “You can stay there, if you like.”
“We was there for a while,” Tina Ann said, and then lowered her voice, “but the Mistress’s spell book was carryin’ on an’ scared Tyla half to death. So, we came out here.”
“All right. Just stay together.”
“I’ll get our coats,” Lana said. She ran into the office and grabbed their coats from the chair. The book was silent now, probably having exhausted itself in one of its schizophrenic fits.
Jules led her to a connecting passageway and drew his knife. His blue eyes met hers with a look of resolve. “I’m going outside to see if I can help. Every male gnome and breghlin will be out there, armed with whatever they can find.”
Curiosity finally got the better of her. “What do these creatures look like? How big are they?” Frightened or not, she supposed she should help him. But armed with what, a meat cleaver? Without Jules’s knife or a similar weapon, what good could she do?
“Judging by the size of the head, the body is probably—” he spread his arms, indicating something the size of her kitchen table.
She swallowed hard. Oh, great.
“Think gigantic, vicious snapping turtle,” he said matter-of-factly, “and you’ll have a rough idea. Heavy shell that’s like armor, long barbed tail, jaws that can bite through a small tree.”
She was sorry she’d asked. “Another of S’s monsters, I suppose.”
“Yes.”
“Why do you think they suddenly left the moat?”
“The moat is usually mostly mud, but not anymore with all this rain. The rising water may have disturbed them.”
“So, what do you plan to do? Drive them back into the moat?”
He shook his head. “I doubt they’d stay. We should try to kill them while they’re still on land.”
“How? Your blade won’t pierce a turtle shell.” He had killed a pythanium, but this might be more difficult.
“A bolt of energy from my knife should knock it out, especially if I can hit the head.”
Yes, that might work. Gem powers were probably the key to defeating these creatures. She took a deep breath. “Okay. I didn’t think about that. That’s not a bad plan. Let’s go.” He opened his mouth, but she cut him off. “Look, I figured I was useless without a weapon, but I do have gems, so maybe I can help after all. I could turn you and a couple gnomes invisible. You’d have a better chance if the creatures can’t see you.”
“That’s a good idea,” he admitted. “Not that I want you out there in danger.”
“I don’t want you in danger, either.” They locked stubborn gazes. “We’re wasting time. Let’s go.”
Once she made up her mind there was no stopping her, and he knew that. They put on their jackets.
Just as they reached the door, it opened, and a male breghlin stumbled in. One of his pant legs was ragged and bloody. He looked like he might fall, and Lana and Jules grabbed him and laid him on the floor.
“Cursed thing bit me,” he gasped, wincing in pain.
Jules rolled up the bloody pant leg, and Lana felt a little lightheaded when she saw the wound. It was deep and bleeding profusely. “What can we do?” she asked. “We can’t use Fair Lands gems to heal a breghlin.”
Jules drew his knife. “I can’t use my blade to heal him, but I can use it to cauterize the wound.”
“Brilliant,” she gasped, relieved. Fair Lands gems would burn him, sealing the wound and staunching the flow of blood. Later, they’d get Shadow gems to help heal the wound.
Jules looked up at her. “See if you can get some clean cloth from the linen room, and we’ll tear it into bandages.”
“I’m on it.”
When she got back, the wound had stopped bleeding. They tore a sheet into strips, and Jules carefully wrapped the leg. “Let’s get him to the infirmary.”
They hoisted the breghlin to his feet.
“Leave me here,” he protested. “They needs you outside.”
“Nonsense,” Lana said, and they more or less carried him between them, his feet barely touching the floor. “What’s happening out there?” she asked.
“Brontskellers. All four, outta the moat,” he answered weakly. “An’ it be tough to kill them.”
He groaned and Lana felt like groaning too from the exertion of supporting his weight. He was short but muscular and surprisingly heavy. “I shouldn’t be making you talk,” she apologized.
Jules told her, “A brontskeller bit him while he was trying to shove an iron rod into its mouth. Fortunately, it’s dead now, so it won’t be biting anyone else.”
The infirmary was just ahead and the door stood open. “Was anyone else hurt?” she asked, breathing hard.
“Not that we know of, but the hunt isn’t over. Elias formed four groups to make sure none of the brontskellers got away, and the hunters won’t stop till they kill all of them.”
They maneuvered through the door and eased the breghlin onto a cot. “Ben, isn’t it?” Jules asked. The breghlin gave an affirmative grunt. “When this is over, I’ll see what else I can do for your leg. Right now, just rest.”
The breghlin wiped his face with a muddy sleeve and closed his eyes.
“We’d better get going,” Jules told Lana.
“Too bad Elias can’t be with all four groups,” she said as they jogged down the passageway. “His gem powers would be a big help.”
“Judging by Ben’s report, ordinary weapons will do the job.”
“Since my run-in with the crocodillos, I’ve been wondering if it’s possible to turn S’s creatures into something else . . . something small and harmless?”
“I wish it were that simple.” They walked outside and surveyed the bleak sky. The rain had given way to a light mist. “Turning a boy into a rat is different from creating one of these monstrosities. Elias claims S used spells that prevent anyone from altering or eliminating them with gem powers.”
Lana wasn’t surprised. S would make sure no one could destroy her monsters, but she probably had a way to do it herself. “Look! There’s Franklin!”
Franklin ran toward them, wet and disheveled. “Did Ben make it back okay?”
Lana blinked. Franklin w
as asking about a breghlin? And he looked genuinely concerned. This was a first. “Yes, he’s in the infirmary,” she told him. “Jules cauterized his wound and we bandaged it.”
“It was the best we could do without Shadow healing gems,” Jules said.
Franklin glanced briefly over his shoulder. “My group just killed our brontskeller. I figured I’d see what I could do for the breghlin before he bled to death, and then I’d join Elias’s group.”
“He’ll be okay,” Jules said. “Let’s find Elias. Do you know where he is?”
Franklin pointed. “He and his group went that way a minute ago. They’re trying to drive their brontskeller away from the barns. I lost sight of the other groups.”
They started walking. “I still can’t believe it,” Franklin said, shaking his head. “Ben took on our brontskeller single-handed. First, he tried to beat its brains out with an iron rod. When that barely fazed it, he tried to shove the rod into its mouth. It snapped at him several times and got ahold of his leg. Just as it started to clamp down, he cracked it hard on the side of the head, and it opened its mouth.”
Lana said, “If brontskellers are like snapping turtles, once their jaws snap shut, they never let go.”
“Yes, I think they’re similar in that respect,” Franklin said. “Once Ben got his leg free, he finally shoved the rod into its mouth, and it bit down on that. After that, we attacked with swords and spears. It managed to knock down one breghlin and tried to escape. I saw a gap where the upper and lower shells meet and sank my spear in, half way up the shaft.”
“Good job,” Jules said, sounding a bit envious.
“What about the rest of your group?” Lana asked. “Where are they now?”
“A couple joined Elias, but most went looking for the other groups. We’ve spent as much time finding and chasing the blasted creatures as fighting them.” He ran a hand through his hair, spraying Lana with water. “They can bend their necks really far, and they strike like a snake. Be careful if you get near the head.”
Lana was curious to see one, preferably from a distance. The dead one would do.