by Vivi Anna
“Midmorning, I suspect by the sounds outside.”
Once she’d moved away from him, he sprang off the bed as if he’d been pinched. He scrubbed at his face, and a hand went roughly through his hair. “I apologize for the liberties taken during the night.”
“What?” Then she remembered she should be outraged by waking up in his arms. “Oh, yes. Right. No need to apologize.” She stood, smoothing down the line of her frock, which was extremely wrinkled. “So should we see about breakfast, and figuring out where the next portal is located?”
She thought for a moment that he might argue to send her away, send her back home, her job being essentially done, but instead he just nodded and her heart skipped a few beats.
After a meal of toasted bread, preserves, teas and a lovely apple Rhys had managed to procure, the two of them were standing beside the bed staring down at the map spread across the mattress.
“I’m still not sure what I’m looking at, or looking for,” she said, hoping that by playing dumb it would erase any possible doubts he might have about what he’d seen. If she convinced him she didn’t know the value of the map, she’d have no motive to steal it.
“It’s a map of ley lines. Where they cross are points of mystical energy.” Rhys pointed to Stonehenge, where they’d previously attempted to open a portal. “It’s high here, as you can see by all the crisscrossing lines.”
“There are other powerful spots.” She pointed to three other places where multiple ley lines intersected. One of them would heal her mother as well.
“We can’t make it to all of them in time.”
He was right. There were highly mystical places in Nepal, Spain, Switzerland and France. And Avebury, where there were another set of standing stones, much like Stonehenge.
“Jovan and Skylar have already gone to Avebury, as that seemed like the next logical place.”
“Did they find anything?”
Rhys shook his head. “Nothing but rocks, as far as his last telegram said.” He clenched his hand and smacked it against his leg. “We can’t just guess, we don’t have time. It’s only three more weeks until the solstice.”
Corina studied the map, then reached down and placed her fingers on it. A warm sensation swept over her hand. There was living energy in the old crinkled parchment. “I could read the map.”
He frowned. “I thought we were reading it.”
“No, I mean read it.”
“Yes, of course, if you think it will help.” He rubbed the palms of his hands on his trousers.
“I’ll need a connection to your brother, so you’ll have to hold my hands.”
“Oh, I see.”
She wanted to laugh at his obvious discomfort. He was either uncomfortable with her psychic intuition or with touching her. Both notions brought her pleasure.
She held her hands out toward him and waited. After a slight hesitation, he took them. The heat between them was instantaneous and powerful. Rhys’s eyes widened.
“I find it interesting that you’re so uncomfortable with what I do, considering you can wield magic and you know Druids.”
She didn’t think he was going to answer, but then he said, “I was never one for feelings. Those gut sensations some people get—intuition, I’m told it’s called—my mother was very much like that. As is Sebastian.” He licked his lips, sweat dotted his brow. “It made me uncomfortable when they could tell exactly what I was thinking all the time. It made it hard to keep secrets.” He laughed. “Sebastian always knew when I was lying as a boy. Luckily he didn’t always tell my father.”
It made so much sense to her now, why he was so guarded. He feared that others would get inside and truly see him. She wanted to be one of those who could truly know Rhys. The real man behind the icy façade. But would he let her in?
“I fear that too. Letting someone know me. The real me.”
He gave her a little smile. “Yes, but I would fathom a guess that the real you is spectacular, whereas I’d lose all my mystique, alas.”
This made her chuckle and she shook her head at him. “I would highly doubt that, considering what we’ve just been through.”
Holding his hands, she closed her eyes and concentrated. On the map. On the man. With her mind she reached inside Rhys to find the connection to Sebastian. To find the tie that bound them together, so she could follow it on the map and locate the vortex they needed to open. To make sure he took her with him.
At first there was nothing but darkness. But she pressed through it, dug into it. It was as if a hole opened up beneath her feet and she was falling endlessly through sight and sound. Until she landed in the middle of a forest with barely a whisper of motion.
The dark green leaves on the large tree branches rustled as the warm wind blew through. The sun was bright and warm. Birds chirped from the high treetops. It was a beautiful, perfect summer day.
Corina heard voices coming from the trees behind her and she turned to see two boys, young men, she supposed. One was tall, already done growing, already the man he’d be. The other was almost there, still gangly and awkward. His face was all angles and she’d recognize those stormy gray eyes anywhere, in any face.
They were both sitting along the edge of a quiet bubbling stream, tossing rocks into the water.
“Why did you yell at Mother today?” the older boy asked.
Rhys threw another stone. “She always takes Jovan’s side in everything.”
“He’s the youngest, Rhys. He needs her more, and he doesn’t always behave.”
“He never behaves. He’s such a brat.”
The younger Sebastian laughed. “He’ll grow out of it.”
“I doubt it.” Rhys grabbed a stick and poked at the mud along the bank. “She loves him more. Because of his magic. He’s better at it than I am, and I’m older.”
“Don’t be stupid. She loves all of us the same.”
“Then why is she always with him, watching him, encouraging him to do magic, when she never asks me?”
Sebastian shook his head and put his hand on Rhys’s shoulder. “Because she knows your magic is deep and powerful, and when it comes, you won’t need anyone’s encouragement to control it.” He slapped him on the back. “I love you, brother, but sometimes you are much too serious for your own good.”
Rhys turned to his brother, smiling, and flung mud in his direction. “Yeah, I’m seriously going to throw you in the stream.” He jumped to his feet and chased Sebastian across the water.
Corina could feel the love of the brothers filling her, guiding her to where they needed to go. In her mind, she left the forest and flew across the land, then across the sea. She landed in a city on a rock and knew where they needed to go.
She opened her eyes and looked down at the map. The city dot drawn on the paper glowed. “St. Malo, in Brittany. That’s where the portal is you need to open. That’s where you’ll find your brother.”
Rhys pulled his hands away and wiped at his eyes, turning aside. Had there been tears there?
“Did you...did you see? Did you see your brother?”
“It doesn’t matter.” He wouldn’t look at her as he packed up their things. “I obviously need to find transportation to France as quickly as possible. And I need to send a telegram to Jovan.”
She touched his arm. “You have the gift of sight, Rhys. It’s a good thing. That’s what your brother was trying to tell you.”
“Like talking to your dead mother is a good thing?”
She let her hand drop. “You don’t know anything about it.”
He rolled up the map and tucked it under his arm. “You should really let her go.”
She was taken aback. “It’s none of your concern.”
“You’re right. Let’s agree to stay out of each other’s heads then, shall we?”
She went to the window to look out. It was a dreary day very much like the one her mother died on. She still remembered every second of it. It still hurt today like it did on that day.
“We should be going.” Rhys opened the door and waited for her.
With a curt nod, she picked up her bag and brushed past him out the door. She’d wished that Rhys would let her in, to see him clearly, but that would mean he could see her as well. And maybe that wouldn’t be a good thing, after all.
Chapter Thirteen
Rhys didn’t quite know how he was going to get to France. He considered an airship but dismissed it just as quickly. Genevieve Le Blanc was an airship captain and a former friend, but she was now conspiring with Darin Hawthorne. Since she had a lot of influence and power in the shipping industry, it would be unwise to seek airship transport—or else his enemy would discover their destination. They had to travel another way.
“Where are we going?” Corina asked, from beside him in the carriage.
“To see someone about the best method for getting to France, quickly.”
The carriage came to a stop in the High Street. Bartlett opened the door and Rhys slid out. He offered his hand to Corina and helped her down.
She frowned and looked up and down the street. “But...?”
“Come on.” He opened the dress shop door for her and she reluctantly entered. The little bell overhead announced their arrival.
“Oh my, twice in one week. I must be blessed.” Mrs. Chattoway came out of the back room with a wide warm smile on her round face.
Seeing her now reminded Rhys of another time he’d come to her for help and reassurance. It had been the day of his mother’s funeral...
It was raining, as it should be, Rhys thought. Why should the weather be any better than how he felt inside? The mourners gathered under umbrellas and parasols, huddled in close together at the gravesite.
He stood with his brothers and father as Lord Soren, a Druid priest, proceeded over the ceremony. To those not in the magical community, and there were many as his mother was much loved, Lord Soren looked like any priest in his black robe. Most of his sermon was spoken in Latin except for a few passages in Gaelic. Rhys hadn’t understood all the words but he’d gotten the gist of it.
His mother’s coffin, made of ash wood and inlaid with magical symbols of protection, was lowered into the ground. Beside him, Jovan wept, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. Rhys glanced at Sebastian to see tears rolling silently down his gaunt cheeks. He wanted to cry, was desperate to, as the pain of his mother’s death ripped him apart, but he held the tears back.
His father had always told him he needed to be strong for the family. Despite Sebastian being the oldest, his father had always looked to Rhys to weather the storms formidably.
He watched his father’s face as his mother was laid to rest, shovels-full of dirt being sprinkled on top of her. He was stoic, his jaw tight, his gaze fierce and unwavering. He was a rock, his father, just as Rhys had always tried to be. But the more Rhys stared, the more he saw. His father was crying. He could see the shimmer of wetness in his eyes and on his skin.
His father was crying, when he wasn’t allowed to.
Unable to hold in his grief and pain any longer, Rhys fled from the gravesite and ran across the cemetery to a thick grove of trees. He kicked at one large trunk. Pain exploded from his toe and over his foot. The agony of it was far less than the pain he felt inside. He slumped to the ground, bracing his back against the tree, and hugged his knees tight to his chest.
It was only then that he let the tears come.
Mrs. Chattoway found him there. She sat on the ground beside him, tucking her legs under her black skirts. She didn’t say anything to him, just let him cry it out. When he was done, she put her hand on his arm.
“There’s a Buddhist saying that love, that is strength and gives strength, this is the highest love.” She squeezed his arm. “Even though you’re so young, you’re the strongest man I know. Your mother always said that about you. She said, out of all her boys, you have the most love inside.”
More tears came, and she gathered him close and held him until he couldn’t cry any more.
“Mr. Davenport?” Mrs. Chattoway brought him out of his memory.
“Yes, I’m sorry?”
“I take it you don’t need another dress?” She eyed him, then Corina.
“No, my darling Mrs. Chattoway, we are in need of your other expertise.”
“I thought as much.” She flipped her Open sign to Closed, and dead-bolted the front door. She put an arm around Corina and ushered her toward the back room. “I heard about the fire.”
Rhys followed along behind. “Yes, it’s a pity. I did love that house.”
“Well, you both got out unhurt, that’s what’s important.”
In the back room, which housed all the fabrics and ready-made dresses, Mrs. Chattoway grabbed hold of the edge of the Persian rug and rolled it up. Underneath was a trapdoor, which she pulled open, then she gestured for them to go down. Corina hesitated to descend the metal ladder.
“I’ll go first,” Rhys said. “You come right after. I won’t let you fall.”
“All right,” she said.
Rhys climbed down until he was halfway submerged in the dark.
Mrs. Chattoway handed him a lantern lit with a sickly yellow glow. “Wait for me at the bottom, it’s a little tricky once below.”
Corina started down after him and together they made it to the bottom. Mrs. Chattoway followed them down after closing the trapdoor overhead. She took the lantern from Rhys and led them through a series of tunnels, each darker than the last, and into a large cavernous room. But it was more a secret genius laboratory than underground cave.
Scattered across the surfaces of long wooden tables were an odd assortment of tools and machinery. Some of them Rhys recognized but others were foreign to him. Along one wall different colored liquids were running through a series of glass tubes and metal pipes. In the corner was a tall metal tube with a circular piece on top, which looked like a hat. Every ten seconds, it seemed, blue streams of light came out of the top to touch various metal pegs sticking out of the stone ceiling. The sound it made sent the little hairs on the back of his neck to attention.
Corina took it all in with her mouth gaping. “I’ve never seen such things before.” She picked up a metal contraption that looked like an arm and shoulder, with five pistol barrels for fingers. Two leather straps hung from the shoulder part. “What is this?”
“Nothing, my dear.” Mrs. Chattoway took it from her and set it back down, gently. “Just a little something I’m working on for a certain someone.” She turned to Rhys. “Now what do you need, Mr. Davenport?”
“To get to France as quickly as possible and undetected.”
Mrs. Chattoway patted her curled silver hair. “I may know of someone who has transportation like that. He’s a foreigner but a lovely gentleman nonetheless.”
“Good. Let him know that price is no object, but I won’t be gouged.”
“Of course not, my dear.” She patted his arm. “Is there an
ything else?”
Rhys nodded. “I need you to look after Corina, er, Miss Stratton for a bit.”
Corina stepped forward. “I don’t need looking after. I’m not a child.”
“I know that, but I have an errand to do and I want you to be safe. I need you to be safe.” He’d never meant to say it that way. But once it was out, he fully realized how much he truly needed that. Seeing her in harm’s way did ghastly things to his gut and to his heart. He needed just a bit of calm for a short while. Enough so he could think properly. Being around her was doing inexplicable things to his mind as well. He had no idea a woman could do this to him. Could make him feel so many things at once. It was confusing.
Mrs. Chattoway looped her arm through Corina’s. “Don’t worry. We’ll have a lovely spot of tea and I can regale her with stories about when you were a little boy, running around my shop underfoot, always playing underneath your mother’s skirts.”
This made Corina smile and she lifted an eyebrow. “Oh well, that does sound lovely.”
He cringed. He might later regret his decision but, for now, knowing Corina would be safely tucked away in the seamstress’s secret underground lair would give him some peace of mind. Enough that he could do what he needed to without worrying about her.
He nodded to both ladies. “I won’t be long.” He set his top hat on his head and made for the tunnel leading back to the ladder.
Corina grabbed his arm. “Please be careful.” Then, as if she realized that she’d touched him, she dropped her hand.
“I will.” He looked around at all the dangerous gadgets and the twinkle in Mrs. Chattoway’s eye. “You as well.”
Mrs. Chattoway chuckled. “Be gone with you, Mr. Davenport. We ladies have much to discuss.”
After one last nod, Rhys reluctantly made his way into the tunnel, regretting each step he took away from Corina.
Chapter Fourteen