by Rhavensfyre
She threw back the blanket and stood to look out the window. Twin moons, one riding the sky low on the horizon while the other walked upon the smooth surface of the lake, managed to captivate her despite the cold.
Rohanna shivered. Rubbing her arms against the damp chill in the room, she seriously contemplated moving her pillows to the foot of the bed and crawling back under the blankets. Three o’clock. The witching hour wasn’t a friend of hers. This was the time she usually awakened from her frequent nightmares. Tonight was blessedly different. She felt calm and well rested. Her head was clear, and she didn’t feel that sense of unease that wouldn’t leave her until daybreak.
On the flip side of that welcome coin, she was wide awake now. For once, she had the silence and solitude of the night to explore that didn’t involve running away from a bad dream. That was a novelty she couldn’t resist. Pulling on her boots and slipping a warm flannel shirt on over her pajamas, Rohanna snuck out of her grandmother’s house. Her steps were sure, the moonlight guiding her way as she followed the path out towards the barn.
Rohanna walked into the darkened interior of the old barn and inhaled deeply. The earthy smell of alfalfa, molasses, and oats belonged here, along with the soft sounds of the horses shuffling about in their straw padded stalls. A large figure appeared out of the dark in the main isle, a darker shape moving within the shadows where nothing should be. Rohanna startled. Her heart sped up, and she froze in place, her eyes straining to identify the intruder. She relaxed when the figure turned, profiling a familiar aquiline head. The barn had an escapee, a four-legged thief intent on stealing as much grain as they could from a bin that proved not to be horse proof.
The horse lazily munched on its stolen bounty, ignoring Rohanna’s presence with a single-minded determination she had to admire.
“Sorry, buddy, no more snacking for you.” Rohanna spoke in a soft, reassuring voice. The last thing she needed was a spooky horse freaking out and running around the inside of a dark barn. She grabbed a handy lead line from a nearby hook and headed for the hungry horse. The first order of business was getting them in hand. She would figure out what stall they belonged in after that.
She blessed the bright moonlight shining through the skylights. As she moved closer Ro was able to tell that the horse was a mare, and a very pregnant one at that. She needed to be doubly careful.
“Alright, missy, let’s get you back to bed.” Just as she reached out to click the lead on the mare’s halter, she pulled her head away and trotted to the other side of the barn, spattering Ro with bits of grain as she zipped by.
“Dammit.” Rohanna jogged after the errant mare, trying to catch her before she made it out the large bay door. The barn door had been left open to take advantage of the cool night breeze, but now it served as a handy escape route.
Rohanna would never admit to a single soul how the next few hours played out. The mare seemed pleased with herself, playing with Rohanna over and over again in what she had to admit must have been highly amusing to anyone watching their little comedy routine. The mare would placidly graze on the lush summer grass until Rohanna got close enough to touch her, then she would spin away and run off, digging up the turf as she went. Ro’s irritation gave way to real concern when they reached the river. Headlights flashed ahead of her, travelling along the winding road that passed by the farm. If the mare crossed the river, she could end up on the road. She wasn’t sure if there was fence up between the road and this section of the farm. There should be, but she wasn’t going to assume anything, not when it came to keeping a horse safe.
When she was finally able to latch the lead line on the playful mare, she swore the darn horse was laughing at her, a horsy version of a Mona Lisa smile playing along her dark muzzle.
“You’re quite the brat, aren’t you?” She shook her head and looked around her, trying to get her bearings. “Now, where did our little wild goose chase take us?”
The house was nowhere to be seen, she’d lost sight of it several hillsides ago, along with the moon. It had been replaced by the faint pink glow of pre-dawn along the horizon. She had spent a good part of the night outside chasing the mischievous mare. A thin stream of smoke rose up over a hill to her left, and she headed in that direction, still peeved at her embarrassing ordeal. Horses never, ever run away from me.
She cast a disparaging glance at the mare and muttered under her breath, “Let’s just keep this between the two of us, shall we?” The horse snorted and twitched its ears at her, then butted its head against her shoulder, unbalancing her enough to make her stumble. She fell flat on her face. A sudden, sharp pain in her knee gave birth to a string of colorful curses that echoed loudly in the early morning fog.
She pulled herself up, then looked for the offending stone that had found her knee. At least that could feel her wrath. She dug the stone out of the ground and shook it. “Let’s see how you like living on the bottom of the river,” she muttered, then kneeled back down when something else caught her attention.
“What the hell?” Rohanna brushed the dirt away from a yellow envelope the stone had been hiding. A sense of déjà vu traveled up her spine and left an itch in the back of her head. The envelope was old, stained and tattered from its time in the ground. It crumpled in her hands. She was left holding a small velveteen box, the kind jewelry came in.
Rohanna fell back on her heels, the mare forgotten as she stared at the contents of the box. Her hands shook, spilling a shiny silver chain out onto the ground. She plucked it up, then raised it into the early morning light, unwilling to believe her eyes. Dangling from the chain was a small pendant that spun lazily in front of her, defying her disbelief. It was a small stone cross, a Faerie stone much like the one she had lost years ago.
Rohanna scrambled to her feet. Her whole body trembled against the icy chill coursing through her veins. The cold sensation bore deeper, burrowing into her bones until she couldn’t feel her legs, a feeling that had nothing to do with the early morning dew gathering on the grass and soaking through her pajamas. She swung her head around and stared at the river in front of her, the curve of the road above her, and finally…the grizzled and scarred oak standing a few feet away from her, its bark carved and deeply gashed as badly as an old warrior.
Ro ran her fingers across the scarred trunk, then gasped in pain. A thin trail of blood ran down her thumb and into her palm.
“Damn, that hurts,” she said, pressing the pad against her mouth. The metallic taste of her own blood made her stomach twist. Golden sunlight crawled up the trunk like a sundial and flashed on something metallic. She moved in closer, then stumbled back against the mare’s shoulder. Shards of sheet metal and mirror were imbedded in the gnarled oak. The mirror had cut her thumb, but the metal? The metal was rusted and bent, but there was no mistaking the dark green paint with just the slightest hint of gold trim.
“Oh, no. No, no, no,” Rohanna cried out. A chorus of whinnies, thin and piercing, sounded over the hills. The mare called back, her nostrils flared and she pulled away from her, fighting the lead line. Rohanna followed her lead, trusting her ability to get them back home. “Find your friends.”
***
Two figures stood in the shadows of the trees behind Rohanna, watching silently as she turned away from the place where her father had died so many years ago.
“The Fairie stone has returned to her at last.”
“So it seems. It is what we have been waiting for.”
“I don’t understand. It was here all this time? We could have saved her so much pain if we had looked for it when John died, rather than wait for chance to step in. Look at how many years it took.”
“Not chance, Shyann…prophecy, and you know as well as I do that prophecy doesn’t work that way. It works in the shadows, twisting and turning around fate like the silver wire wrapped around that stone.”
“Well, I don’t like it.”
“Nor do I, but it isn’t up to us. We do not choose when or how, we can onl
y observe and react. Anything I do to interfere could change things, perhaps for the worst. It is better to leave such things alone. We must let it play out as it is meant to be, not as we wish.”
A low growl answered her admonishment, along with a flash of angry green eyes that carefully avoided Maeve’s stern gaze.
“And this was fair to her? She was never told where her father died, or how it happened, just the lies Belinda has been feeding her all these years,” Shyann said, sweeping her hand towards the damaged oak tree. The morning sun was emptying the meadow of its shadows, revealing more evidence. The unnatural furrow dug out of the roadside and leading to the river, rough stones that held a sharper edge than their field-mates, the violence done to the earth by John’s pickup truck still marked the landscape. The pale gashes across the trunk of the ancient oak tree had aged over the years until they matched the grey-brown color of the bark around it, but there was no mistaking the damage left behind. Upside down and smoking, the truck had slammed into the tree with enough force to tilt the tree trunk so that it now grew twisted and bent, as if hunched around the old injury that still carried shrapnel beneath and within its skin.
“She knows he died in a car accident. She didn’t need to know how it happened, not then. She was too young to understand everything. That knowledge wouldn’t have changed anything, but it could have made things harder on her.”
“I know, but…”
“No buts, Shyann.” Maeve shook her head at her young protégé’s anger. “Believe me, I love Rohanna just as much as you do and would do almost anything to save her pain, but in this, I cannot interfere. And, neither can you, not while you are acting on my behest,” she added, noting how Shyann’s frown deepened with every word. Shyann was young and full of all the bluster and heat that youth offered, which also meant the temptation to let her heart overrule her head was there. That could be disastrous, not only for Rohanna, but for all of them. Her words were sharp, spoken harshly then softened with an affectionate pat on the shoulder. She wanted Shyann to understand the importance of the situation, not encourage an act of rebellion.
“Now, let’s get back home before Rohanna does. She shouldn’t come back to an empty house. Goddess knows I could use the warmth of a good fire right now. It’s been a long, cold night.”
“That it has,” Shyann agreed. She didn’t feel the cold like Maeve did, or Rohanna…but she could eat.
Hunger existed in every creature, no matter what form they took. She took a few steps, following behind Maeve, then turned and looked back at the tree…her gaze slipping unbidden to the small patch of dirt that had hidden the Fairie stone from Rohanna for so long.
So unusual, that we would miss it that night, she thought, or that it found its way under a flat stone the size of a plate. I won’t ask, but if I’m right…Maeve is keeping her own secrets from me.
“This is why I distrust prophecy,” she muttered, not for the first time and she was sure, not for the last. You never knew what the hell you were supposed to do or not do. Inaction could be as deadly as action…and second-guessing everything you do was a hell of a way to do business.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Rohanna walked into her grandmother’s kitchen after waking to the heavenly smell of breakfast wafting through the bedroom door. She had been half tempted to stay in bed rather than admit that the day had started, but her stomach growled like a wild animal, demanding her attention and overruling the yawn that almost convinced her to go back to sleep. From the amount of sunlight streaming through the windows, someone had already been in her room and pulled back all the curtains.
Rohanna whipped back the covers, giving in to the inevitable. More likely it had been Maeve wandering in and letting in the morning, but if she dallied any longer Shyann would be next, bouncing in and waking her up as creatively as possible. Cold feet and early morning pillow fights were never off limits, neither was yanking off every blanket on the bed and letting her freeze. The process usually included loud noises that Ro was not ready for in the mornings.
Wobbling down the hall like a drunk man in an alleyway, Ro bumbled into the kitchen, squinting through one eye at the other two women. The other eye refused to cooperate, it wanted to go back to sleep. Maeve stared at her and Shyann raised an eyebrow in her direction then snorted before pouring herself another cup of coffee.
“What?” Rohanna asked peevishly. Her head itched, and she felt like someone had tossed her down a hill, a very steep, very muddy hill full of brambles.
“Have you had a look at yourself?” Maeve gestured with the spatula she was holding. Rohanna looked down at herself and grimaced. She did look particularly disheveled, especially after last night. She was still in her pajamas, the same pair she had gone traipsing about the farm in for half the night. Dark patches along each knee were stiff with dirt, the same dirt dusted the cuffs of her pajamas. Shyann reached up and pulled a picker out of her hair. “Ouch!” she protested, pulling away from her cousin. Trying to smooth her hair down only made it worse, she found two more pickers in her hair and gave up trying to finger comb hair that she was sure looked more like a rat’s nest.
“I can only imagine what the bed looks like.”
“Adventurous night, eh, Ro?” Maeve and Shyann spoke at the same time, one playful and the other not so happy with her. Great, now I get to add sleepwalking to all the rest of my problems.
Ro’s cheeks burned in embarrassment while she frantically searched for an excuse for her appearance. “I went for a walk, I wanted to check in on Galileo.”
“Looks more like you went hunting for worms in the middle of the night.” Shyann smirked.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Ro admitted.
“Could’ve fooled me, you were snoring loud enough to knock dust out of the rafters.”
“That’s enough, Shy,” Maeve cut in. “And there isn’t a single speck of dust in this house, other than what you two drag in.”
That’s when Rohanna finally noticed that, unlike her, they were both dressed and ready for the day. Shyann’s boots were filthy, which probably explained her grandmother’s ire. She didn’t appreciate people tramping dirt into her house.
“It’s almost nine, sleepyhead,” Shyann quipped, catching Ro’s quick glance.
“Sorry, Shy,” Ro groaned, smacking her forehead lightly with her palm. She was supposed to help her cousin with morning feed.
“That’s okay, cousin.” Shyann grinned around a mouthful of potatoes.
Maeve put another plate of food down on the table, then sat down to finish her own meal. “Eat, Ro. Enjoy your morning. I’ll worry about the sheets later.”
“Thanks, Grandma.” Ro tucked into her breakfast as if she was starving, then moaned around a mouthful of country potatoes. “This is so good.”
Her grandmother just smiled and sipped her tea while Ro and Shyann chatted, a pleased expression on her face as she watched the two younger women eat. Sometimes Ro thought her grandmother would feed the world if she could, just to watch them eat.
“What’s this?” Maeve asked, reaching out to touch Rohanna’s necklace. Ro plucked the silver chain away from her neckline, dangling the small Faerie stone cross in the air between them.
“I found it.”
“Hmmm, I haven’t seen this since your father came and picked it up years ago. You say you found it? Where?”
“I, um…it was in a box on top of the dresser,” Rohanna stuttered. That was where she found the necklace this morning, so why did it feel like she was telling a lie? “Wait, this is the same stone? The one I found all those years ago?”
“It sure looks like it. I wrapped the stone myself, and I remember this chain. Your dad gave it to for your birthday.”
“How amazing,” Ro murmured, gently running her thumb across the smooth surface.
Ro stared down at the cross. Oblivious to her audience, she didn’t see the knowing look that passed between Shyann and Maeve, nor the slight shake of her grandmother’s head when Shyann opene
d her mouth to say something.
“Shyann? Since you’re done, why don’t you clear these dishes?” The warning to wait was obvious.
Stiff backed and silent, Shyann did as Maeve asked, getting up from the table and taking her dirty plate to the sink.
Maeve shook her head. Stubborn as a mule, she thought, then cleared her throat. “I guess we should get the rest of our day started, if you want to get back home today.”
“I guess we should,” Rohanna responded dully. She really didn’t want to go home, not yet. Taking Shyann’s cue, Ro took her plate to the sink. She almost dropped the plate when she noticed her fingernails. Casting a quick glance over her shoulder, she turned on the faucet and washed her plate, surreptitiously scrubbing the dirt under her fingernails away at the same time. Her thumb stung. She rinsed away the soap and found a thin cut, not too deep but almost an inch long, right across the meat of her thumb. Dirty knees and clothes could be explained away if she was sleepwalking, she could have fallen down and not even realized it, but this? This was too close to her dream.
Not a dream, Ro thought. It was all real. She had knelt on the ground where her father had died and left her all alone. Her grandmother had to have known. All these years, and no one had told her where he had died, only that it had been an accident. A mad bubble of laughter threatened to escape from her. Why her grandmother had kept this a secret didn’t matter right then. Because the only thing she could think of was that if last night’s dream was real, how many of her other nightmares lived in reality and not just in her head?
Her ceramic plate clanged against Shyann’s, loud enough to put her teeth on edge. She barely noticed. The impression of things shifting and moving beneath her reminded her of the time her school had sent the entire class to New York. The ferry ride out to see the Statue of Liberty had been rough on a lot of the girls. That up and down, side-to-side motion of water against the boat hull was unsettling until you learned how to use your legs. She felt that subtle movement now, the need to maintain balance despite unsure footing. Unlike some of the girls, who spent the trip bent over the side rails, she had quickly found her balance. Legs wide, braced against the wind and movement, she had spent the ride over grinning like an idiot at the bow while the salt air whipped around her like a maelstrom.