by M. J. O'Shea
“Oh, nice!” He rolled over with a laugh. “Guilt-tripping me into breaking rules. Yes, you’re my best friend; yes, a big part of me wishes I could get it all out in the open; but no, I’m not telling you. Not tonight, anyway.”
“Fine.”
“Don’t be a brat.”
“I’m—” Okay. I was being a brat and I knew it, but I had the feeling that I needed to know whatever it was the dryads, my family, everyone was so bound and determined to hide from me.
“Can I go back to sleep?”
“I can’t sleep because I’m trying to figure out what it is that you won’t tell me.”
Xan groaned. “You’re never going to. Not in a million years. Might as well stop taxing your poor little brain.”
“You’re a jerk.” I shoved Xan and chuckled. We’d been insulting each other’s intelligence for as long as we’d been speaking.
“Roll over on your stomach. I’ll put you to sleep.”
I looked up warily. “This isn’t going to be some Vulcan death grip thing, is it?”
He grinned at me. “Probably not, but you won’t know unless you roll over and close your eyes.” I slowly did as I was told. “It would probably help if you took your shirt off.”
Ummm. “Seriously?”
“Oh Jesus, Charlie. Give me a break.”
I sighed and pulled my shirt and sweater over my head before I flopped back down on my stomach. A light touch descended on my skin, not a massage, just the feather-soft brush of fingertips trailing up and down my spine. My skin tingled like some faint breeze was tickling over the surface.
“What are you doing?” I whispered. I already felt more relaxed.
“Shh. I’m putting you to sleep.”
The touches continued up and down, across my shoulder blades, warm, then cool, the slight scrape of nails, the smooth pads of fingertips, all trailed by a wake of peacefulness. It was working wonders. My eyes got harder to keep open as the seconds passed.
“If I fall asleep, then goodnight, Xan. Thanks,” I muttered.
“Night,” he answered quietly.
THE NEXT thing I knew, sunshine was pouring into Xan’s warm little tree room from all sides. He was asleep on his stomach, legs sprawled in every direction, one arm curled under his face. He’d pushed his pillow off to the side, and his mouth was parted. I grinned and poked him.
“Morning, nerd butt.”
Xan grumbled awake, then sat up. “What did you just call me?” he asked on a yawn. “Nerd butt? Even for you, that’s dumb.”
“Says you.” I stretched and rolled to put my feet on the ground. “What time is it?” I reached for my cell, which I’d jammed into the pocket of my backpack the afternoon before.
“Oh, that won’t work in here.”
“No cell tower?”
I flopped back on the bed. I guessed it didn’t matter much what time it was anyway. There was no way I was going to school when I had so much real and important information to process.
“No anything. We don’t need it.”
Of course. Because they could communicate in their heads. “I suppose not. I’m so jealous.”
Xan shrugged. “It’s just different, not better.” He sat silently for a moment before he opened his eyes. “It’s time to get ready for school.”
“I don’t want to go,” I told him.
Xan stood and tugged me up to a sitting position. “C’mon, only two months left, right? Plus it’s Friday.”
“Can I spend the weekend out here?” I asked.
“Sure. But just to warn you, there isn’t any indoor plumbing.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m sure I’ll survive.”
Chapter 5: Too Much Truth
THE WEEKEND began exactly the way I’d hoped. I packed a bag and followed Xan back into the woods. My mind was busy hatching plans to spend every weekend for the rest of my short senior year in the woods. I wanted to get away from New Haven and everything dreadfully common and boring and freezing cold. I didn’t know what I’d do after I graduated and my parents started teaching me how to hunt. Even though my life would be different from that point on, I still couldn’t see it without Xan.
Yeah, yeah, I know I thought just a few days before that we’d never see each other after I started hunting, but I didn’t really mean it. Besides, that was before I knew he was a freaking dryad. He could totally be part of my new life, right?
Friday afternoon, Xan took me on a long walk around the Forest—warm from the setting sun, air filled with sleepy motes of dust and a slow breeze. On first glance, the woods weren’t any different than ours, other than the fact that the chilly fall air had disappeared the moment we walked through the falls. When I looked closer, though, there were hundreds of differences—some barely perceptible and some right in the open waiting for me to be delighted by them. Glimmering wood sprites flitted everywhere, and the colors of the plants changed from green to bright reds and golds. Ferns and small bushes leaned back and forth in a slow, swaying dance, touching first one neighbor, then moving on to another. I thought I must be imagining it, but Xan caught me staring and laughed.
“They’re the worst gossips,” he confirmed with a chuckle.
“What do you think they’re talking about?”
He nudged me. “You, of course.”
“O-oh.” I’d spent most of my life feeling beneath the notice of those around me. It was a new sensation to be the talk of the town… or forest, I supposed.
“Come this way. I want to show you my favorite place.” Xan guided me with a gentle hand on my shoulder. I couldn’t get over how different he was in the Forest, how confident, how so very little like the unchanging sidekick I’d always had.
He led me through a congested path, covered by overhanging tree branches filled with flashes of light from the wood sprites that had been following us. The path was short, but the going was slow, for me at least, as I picked my way through the heavy roots and uneven dirt. Xan scampered ahead, then turned to wait for me, clearly comfortable on the worn path.
“I’ve never taken anyone else here before. It’s special,” he told me, pulling back a thick curtain of branches and vines and ushering me through.
The place on the other side was like a dream. A small pool, golden in the afternoon light, glimmered and cast dappled reflections on the thick stand of birch-like trees that surrounded it. The trees themselves were different than any I’d seen before, even in Xan’s forest. The trunks were the typical birch off-white… sort of. Beneath the surface, mottled greens and golds swirled, creating an impressionist effect. The word beautiful didn’t even come close. It was magic.
“I—I… wow,” I finally murmured.
“Pretty, isn’t it?” he said with a soft smile. “I come here when my family is driving me nuts, or if I need to study and I can’t get any peace and quiet. Nobody else in the tribe knows it’s here.”
“How’s that possible? We’re not more than ten minutes from the village.”
“I don’t think it’s an accident that I found this place. There are certain dryads, not always male, that have… responsibilities. I’m one of them. I’ve found little bits and pieces of things in here that make me think those dryads might have been here before me.”
“But they’re dead now?”
Xan shrugged. “A few. But dryads live for a long time, as long as their tree is standing. My guess is they’ve moved on, that once they’ve finished, um, what they’re supposed to do, they can’t find this spot any longer.”
“Xan, you’re not making a lot of sense. What responsibilities? What do you have to do?” The idea of Xan galloping off to fulfill his destiny, whatever it might be, and leaving me alone to deal with the world unsettled me.
“We’re back to the stuff I’m not supposed to tell you,” he said with a sigh.
“But if this place is only for the special ones, how come I’m here?”
He smiled. “Because I brought you. And besides, like I said before, you are far fr
om ordinary yourself.”
I sank down into the soft moss that covered the banks of the pool and soaked in the sounds of the Forest around us. Xan lay next to me, closing his eyes against the gentle, warming sun. We were silent for a long time, letting the chirps and hums of the animals fill the comfortable silence. I’d never been a huge nature fan before, but there was something about the magic in the air in Xan’s woods, and especially in his secret little glade, that called me. I never wanted to leave.
Eventually, I rose and began to explore, smelling blooming flowers, touching velvety tree bark, and running my fingertips across ferns that shivered like they were being tickled.
“They like that,” Xan said from across the pool, where he still sat placidly in the sun.
“I can tell.” I brushed the ferns again and then noticed an old bench, covered by growth under a low-hanging branch. “Hey, Xan, check this out!”
“What is it?” he asked, rising sleepily and ambling around the pool to where I was standing.
“It’s a bench or something. It looks like it’s been here a long time.” I peered closer and brushed the surface with my fingertips. “Look, there are names carved into it. Looks like they’ve been here forever.”
There were dryad names: Xakara, Xiel, Xaranth, and a few I could barely make out. But there were other names and years, too—Charles 1885, Julian 1911, and… wait…. What? Henry Fitzgerald, 1965.
“Xan, what the hell is going on? Henry Fitzgerald is my grandfather. Why are these names here?”
“I-I’ve never seen this bench before.” Xan was nervous. I knew we were heading toward territory he’d been trying to avoid. Too damn bad.
“Not the question I asked.”
“Charlie, I can’t—” Xan looked pained.
“Take me to your mother, then. I’m going to talk to her.”
“Charlie.”
“Take me. Now.”
Xan sighed and led me out of the beautiful spot, back down the trail, and toward the main clearing where most of the dwellings were. His mother was waiting for us when we got there. I supposed he’d called her sometime during our walk back. I also figured he’d warned her about what I wanted. It was up to her whether she was going to cooperate or not.
“Mrs.—” I wasn’t sure what to call her.
“You can call me Xiel.”
“That was one of the names on the bench.”
She nodded. “I, too, have been in the glade. X’andrien is very much my son.”
“Why were you in the glade? Why were my relatives in there? Will one of you please tell me what’s going on?”
Xiel shook her head. “It is not yet time, son. I don’t believe you are ready.”
“I am ready! I know everything else. If this involves my family, if this involves me, don’t you think I have the right to know what it is?”
“I told you it was a mistake to bring him here, Xan. Answers beget more questions, and it is not wise to open this book when you are both so young and inexperienced.”
“He’s here now,” Xan said. “I feel that it’s time to tell him the rest.”
Xiel sighed. “I believe still that it is a mistake. However, I will let you make this choice on your own. After that….”
She didn’t finish, but the implication was ominous.
“C’mon, Charlie, let’s go up to my room.” Xan gestured at the platform lift he’d made and I followed him silently. My stomach was weak as I climbed on the contraption that would carry me up to the truth. Despite my misgivings, I was ready to know. I had to know.
Once we were in Xan’s room, my discomfort increased. Something was different. Xan wasn’t looking at me like he always had. Where was his relaxed stance, his easy, open smile?
“Xan, what’s wrong?”
He shrugged. “Things will be different between us after this. I guess I’m just going to miss being a kid.”
“What’s happening, Xan?”
He sighed and gestured toward his bed. “It’s a long story. You might want to sit down.”
I sank down on the bed, and he perched in the corner instead of sitting right next to me like he always had.
“A long time ago, my tribe got into a war over some land with the lycans,” Xan began. “We fought, and the dryads won. The territory was awarded to us, and the lycans withdrew with honor—except for one. He snuck into our village that night and slaughtered every last dryad he found, all except the small hunting party that had been out searching for game. The lycan had tried to hide his presence in the village, but there were signs that were easy to read. It was obvious a lycan was responsible.”
“That’s awful!”
Xan nodded. “We went to the lycan council. They were convinced once we presented the evidence, but even with their help, my elders couldn’t find the lycan who’d done it.”
“What did your people do then?”
“Nothing, yet. We went to see our seer. She’s an ancient dryad who has been on the earth longer than any other living dryad can even recall. She told the people in my tribe that they needed to wait, that one day a human would come along who would avenge us. That human would be the one to kill the murderous lycan.”
“I still don’t understand what this has to do with my—Oh, you can’t honestly think….”
“Listen, Charlie, your family was named. The seer said that every few generations there would be Fitzgerald sons numbered three. It was the third son who would save us. Your grandfather was a third son, and Julian Fitzgerald before him and—”
“And me. Me?”
“Yes. You.”
“And what does that mean about us?” I had a feeling I knew the answer and wasn’t going to like it, but my morbid need for knowledge won out.
“My family—our direct line—we were the warriors, the most savage of protectors.” I looked at Xan and raised my eyebrows. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
“And your job is to protect the village.”
He shook his head. “No. My job is to protect you. You need to remain alive in case it is your destiny to be the one to avenge our people, in case you are the chosen Fitzgerald son. We’ve been placed together since birth so you would trust me, just like your grandfather trusted my mother.”
“Your mother was my grandfather’s guard?”
“Yes. Until your mother became pregnant with you. My family realized then he could not possibly be the foretold Fitzgerald since a new third son was on the way.”
“Wait, so then she got pregnant with you just so you could guard me?”
Xan nodded.
“That’s so… calculating.”
“It’s our way.”
“And you, are you even my friend, or are you only a protector? Was that all a ruse so you could stay close to me?”
“It’s easier to protect a Fitzgerald if you’re friends with him or her. All Fitzgeralds, but especially the third sons, tend to be a bit hard-headed.” Xan smiled at me.
My stomach dropped. The oldest friendship I had, the only one that meant anything at all to me, was just a convenience? An excuse to stay close so he could play warrior elf? I needed to get out.
“Charlie, where are you going?”
I looked at the face I thought I knew better than my own and realized I didn’t know a damn thing about him. “I’m leaving. I need to go home.”
Xan sighed. “This is what my mother feared would happen.”
“Well, tell her cheers for me. She was right.” Hiding my hurt under a thick mask of anger, I yanked my backpack over my shoulders and turned to go.
“Don’t go… it’s not safe,” Xan called to me.
I couldn’t reply. I stomped onto the platform, released the rope from its anchor, lowered myself to the ground, and took off running.
Chapter 6: Worst Two Months Ever
I DIDN’T talk to Xan the rest of the weekend, and I had plenty of opportunities. He followed me home Friday night and spent Saturday and Sunday making trips to my house
to try to talk to me. I probably should’ve heard him out; he was just doing his job, after all. But I couldn’t bring myself to go down and talk to him. Honestly, I was afraid I’d do something dumb like get all choked up, then the whole goddamn thing would be that much more embarrassing.
The sensible part of me that wanted to be a hunter knew I shouldn’t push Xan away. But that same part of me knew he wasn’t far, no matter if we were speaking or not. He might not have to keep up the pseudo-friends routine, but he would still guard me. As ridiculous as it was, until I died or another third son was born, I was the dryads’ hope for revenge against the evil mystery lycan.
I snorted. Yeah, right. Me.
NOVEMBER CAME with a blast of freezing air and dry weather. My lips were chapped on a daily basis, and even in the house I bundled up with sweatshirts and scarves. No matter what I did, I couldn’t seem to keep warm. I counted down the weeks until the end of the semester and tried not to look at Xan, who’d never given up his seat behind me in every class. He didn’t try to talk to me anymore, but I felt his eyes on me, watching me, making sure I was still alive and breathing.
I’m not going to do anything stupid, jerk. Your dryad avenger is safe.
Of course, we all knew I wasn’t really the one. Third sons had been born and died for over two hundred years. None of them had been the magical savior. Why did any of them think I would be any different? I found myself hoping that Colin would get some poor girl knocked up. Maybe they could punch out a few boys and take the pressure off me. Didn’t seem likely, seeing as the girl he was all twisted up over was a vampire—who he refused to believe he wanted. I had no idea why I was contemplating Colin’s nonimpending fatherhood and his ridiculous denial of his feelings toward Amanda. I guessed it kept my mind off Xan.
Xan. Crap. Mind back on him.
THANKSGIVING WAS always a loud and festive time around the Fitzgerald compound. We all lived nearby each other in New Haven, so the cooking and family get-togethers roamed from house to house, each one filled to the brim with uncles and aunts and grandparents and cousins, all laughing, eating, talking, and shouting at the tops of their voices. That year, even the city crew came in for the main event on Thanksgiving evening—Noah with his pretty dark-haired boyfriend Zack, and Colin who had Amanda in tow. Finally. Along with Bianca, Noah’s mother, that made four vampires at the Thanksgiving table. I imagined not many families could top that. Nobody asked the vampires why they weren’t eating. Didn’t seem like much of a surprise to anyone. As usual, I’d been the last to know just about everything.