Now I wasn’t having any trouble connecting the dots at all.
“So you think that if this thief, John Smyth, is the son of Sadhbh and the Dark Druid, he can turn into a deer, and he has enough grudges to be in league with Chesterfield and Brenna, right?” I asked.
“Right,” Festus said, “and I hate to tell you this, but we can’t continue to keep all of this from Barnaby.”
Festus shouldn’t have worried. He wasn’t going to get any argument from me.
“Agreed,” I said. “We’re all leaving for Shevington on Christmas Eve. That’s just three days away. Let’s let everyone enjoy their Christmas dinner, and then we’ll tell Granddad and Moira the whole story. Does that work?”
“Yes,” Greer said, “Lucas and I must attend to some DGI business in Uzbekistan on Thursday. We will be meeting you in Shevington that evening.”
That’s when my curiosity got the better of me.
“Can you tell me why Granddad has been sending Lucas all over the world for the last month?” I asked.
I hadn’t intended for the question to come out sounding annoyed, but even to my ears, the tone was unmistakable.
Festus’ eyes lit up with interest as a wicked grin drew his whiskers back.
“Oh,” he said, “now that question had some claws in it. Missing your new boyfriend, are you?”
“Lucas is not my boyfriend,” I said defensively, “and don’t you start with me, Festus McGregor. I just wondered where Lucas has been.”
In a timely show of female solidarity, Greer stepped in.
“I have been wondering the same thing myself,” she said. “The laddie has been uncharacteristically tight-lipped about his special assignments. I rather imagine that when we do talk to Barnaby, both he and Lucas will have as much to share with us as we have to share with them.”
Color me surprised on that one, not.
At any rate, we had a plan. A best-laid plan, even — and you know what they say about those.
You’ll see shortly that we did tell Barnaby and Moira everything — in fact by the time we returned to Briar Hollow from Shevington everyone was up to speed on the whole story. Barnaby and by extension, Lucas, did, indeed, have plenty to share with us as well, just as Greer predicted.
But for as important as those conversations would be, the one thing I did not see coming was the identity of the other person in the room — a person I thought I might never see again.
15
The Mother Oak breathed deeply, enjoying the natural warmth surrounding her trunk and canopy. Even in the depths of winter’s cold, that part of her growing in the Otherworld never felt the withering of her leaves.
Safe in the realm of the Fae, the Tree remained strong and green, strong enough to feed and support those parts of herself that crossed through the In Between and reached the world of the humans. There, with the changing of the seasons, the Great Tree’s mirror self, grew sparse and bare, retreating within until the birth of summer.
Humans required such markers to steer their course through life. They needed to count and order the hours within a day, the days in a month, the months in the year. Their minds could not grasp the multi-layered reality of time, no matter how complex the theories devised by their scientists.
For her part, the Mother Tree looked both to the future and the past simultaneously like Janus the Roman. Her watchful gaze comprehended the meaning of transitions and transience, she feared not the negotiation of passages, nor the meaning of beginnings and endings.
In the space of a few hours, her beloved fairy friends would fly on the night wind to decorate her branches with their shimmering dust. She would stand outlined with millions of glittering prisms, all in celebration of the Christmas holidays.
The Oak enjoyed the observance as much as the people gathered round her on the green, because, if she was nothing else, the Great Tree was a Watcher.
Beings across all the realms marked mid-winter in their fashion. The people of Shevington took particular pleasure in mingling multiple traditions. Even now, the sounds of workers drifted into the Oak’s awareness. She heard their laughter as they built booths for the Yule carnival and assembled mechanical amusements borrowed from the human realm.
As a second presence rose up beside her, the Mother Tree effortlessly conjured the illusion of a cozy sitting room. Had an outsider been able to look within the mind of the Oak, they would have seen two women friends of indeterminate age sitting together enjoying the view presented through an enormous picture window.
"You did not have to create this setting for my benefit," Myrtle said, “but thank you.”
A ripple of laughter circled the room. “You are welcome,” the Oak said. “We are all happier amidst that which we know best. You and I both comprehend that form is nothing but illusion, but there is no reason that illusion can not be pleasant. Tell me, aos si, what is that great wheel the workers are erecting?”
“It is called a Ferris wheel,” Myrtle said, “a device created for the amusement of humans. They sit in chambers affixed to the wheel, going round and round, finding excitement in both the motion and the view afforded to them.”
The simulacrum of the Mother Tree clapped her hands with delight. “I so envy them the simplicity of such pastimes. For all the muddled nature of humanity, for their conflicts and misjudgments, there are times when they remember the joy of simply being.”
“They do have that capacity,” Myrtle agreed. “I only wish they would search for it more often.”
The Oak started to answer, but her attention was drawn to the lower valley. “Ah,” she said, “the portal has just opened. Our guests are arriving.”
The image in the picture window wavered and changed to show Jinx, her parents, Gemma, Tori, Colonel Longworth, Darby, Glory, Rodney, and even Duke gathered amid a pile of luggage and wrapped presents.
“Look,” the Mother Tree said, “young Connor has met them in a horse-drawn conveyance. It does my heart good to see them all reunited."
Myrtle sighed. “My heart is also gladdened,” she said, “but I do regret I cannot share Jinx's first holiday season in Shevington."
"Do not be so certain that you will not," the Mother Tree said. "The threat posed by Chesterfield's ambitions grows now that he has turned his attention to the amulets."
"Are you suggesting that the time for my return has arrived?" Myrtle asked.
"You have not healed to the fullest extent possible," the Oak replied. "Were you to go back, I could not return you to them as you have always been. The choice to stay with me or to leave rests with you, aos si."
"If I were to go back, what abilities would I retain?"
"That I cannot predict," the Tree said, "it will be yours to discover."
"I do not fear change," Myrtle mused. "Why do you judge that this may be the correct time for me to rejoin the Daughters of Knasgowa?"
Myrtle felt the weight of the Tree’s gaze fall upon her. “Because aos si,” she said, “I fear they will be called upon to enter the Middle Realm, and that they cannot do without you.”
For me, Christmas has always been magical, but that first holiday in Shevington knocked the concept right out of the park. So much so that I’ve already recounted the experience with you in another story.
As much as I’d like to take the time now to go back over every detail of that weekend, we need to move along. Honestly, when I shared Christmas in the Valley with you before, I left out all the stuff going on behind the scenes because I wanted you to enjoy the time with us. Now we need to dig a little deeper.
For about 24 hours in Shevington, I managed to forget about guys who turn into deer, missing amulets, and Dark Druids. That happened in part because my personal life took something of a turn on Christmas Eve.
Lucas Grayson kissed me while we stood in a shadowed nook on the city wall overlooking the holiday fair below.
Like the way I just tossed that out? Let’s back up a little bit.
Lucas showed up alone on Chri
stmas Eve. The moms, Tori, and I were sitting in front of the fire in Granddad’s parlor while the men hid behind the study door and discussed their still-to-be accomplished gift shopping excursion.
With some none-too-subtle maneuvering, I managed to get the moms and Tori out of the parlor so I could have a minute or two alone with Lucas. Up until that night, there had been some good-natured flirting between us, but to be honest, I couldn’t tell what interested him more — me or getting a rise out of Chase.
From what Festus tells me, the two men used to be friends. He doesn’t know what happened between them either, but at any given moment, Chase and Lucas are roughly one wisecrack away from coming to blows.
About all Lucas and I managed to do on that sofa before the men emerged and claimed him, was make a date to have funnel cakes later at the fair.
Funnel cakes turned into a walk atop the wall, which turned into Lucas trying to put his arm around me. On reflex, I stepped away.
Yep, I am just fickle enough to be annoyed over not knowing where the man had been for a month and push him away when he’s standing right beside me in a willing mood.
“Have I been reading this all wrong?” he asked. “I don’t want to be a clueless idiot here.”
Keeping my eyes on the crowd below, I said carefully, “You haven’t read anything wrong.”
“Then what’s going on?” he said. “I know we haven’t been able to spend any time together these last few weeks, but you have to see I’m interested in you, Jinx. Talk to me.”
“Lucas,” I said lamely, “we work together.”
“We do,” he agreed. “And?”
“Chase and I worked together, too, and having a relationship didn’t go so well with him.”
That wasn’t at all what I had intended to say, but sometimes the truth has a way of just popping out.
“Ah,” Lucas said, “well, I’m not a werecat. Certified, taboo-free water elf at your service.”
He bowed.
The man actually bowed.
Steeling myself against all that charm, I tried again. “The breakup is still pretty fresh.”
Any sign of teasing vanished.
“That I get,” Lucas said. “Do you still have feelings for Chase?”
At the same time that I didn’t want to deal with a question that complicated, the fact that he had the courage to simply ask it made me like Lucas even more. People who confront things head on make points with me fast.
“Oh,” I said, “so we’re putting everything out on the table.”
“I generally find that works best,” he said. “I have a lot of faults, Jinx, but I don’t go stomping around in another guy’s relationship.”
Also a point-winning statement. I told him the truth — I didn’t honestly know how I felt about anything, in particular, Chase McGregor.
“I’m not a pushy man,” Lucas said, “so I’m going to make a suggestion, which you can accept or reject. Okay?”
He stepped closer, and this time, I didn’t move away. “Okay,” I said, “what is it?”
That’s when he directed my attention to the mistletoe bough overhead.
“Do you know the story?” he asked. “Of the mistletoe?”
I shook my head.
“Baldur, the grandson of Thor, woke up one day to find that every living thing on earth, including the plants, wanted to kill him. While he cowered, terrified in his room, his wife and mother went to each animal and plant begging their kindness toward Baldur, but they forgot to speak with the mistletoe.”
“Bad plan?” I asked.
“Very bad plan,” Lucas said. “Just as Baldur began to celebrate his freedom from fear, a mistletoe arrow struck him dead. Moral of the story? Never forget the mistletoe.”
Just as he’d intended, I laughed. “If you’re trying to tell me that if I don’t kiss you, an arrow is going to come flying out of nowhere and kill me, that may be the worst pick-up line ever.”
Cupping my face in his hand, he said, “It’s not a line. I do want to kiss you. And if you find the experience forgettable, then we go right on being friends who shared a really nice first Christmas together.”
“And if it’s unforgettable?” I whispered. “Then you quit throwing up walls and let us get to know each other.”
Trust me, I wanted to argue, but he was so close I could feel the warmth of his body. Light and shadows from the scene below played across his handsome features. Without thinking, I reached up and brushed my fingers through his unruly black bangs. What happened next was anything but forgettable.
And then on Christmas Day, Chase invited me for a walk, gave me his dead mother’s locket — with our picture in it, no less — and told me he wanted us to get back together.
Guess I was wrong about Ann Marie Detwiler, huh?
16
Guys who change into deer, Dark Druids, and missing amulets looked pretty good after I took that walk with Chase. Going after evil in its various forms paled beside the state of confusion that is my love life.
Two facts complicated that state even more. First, Chase saw me kiss Lucas the night before on the wall and second, I followed that up by kissing Chase the next day.
Now hold on. I can explain. Sort of.
Chase had just given me the locket, a gift he followed up with a question that quietly broke my heart. “Are we so easy to forget, Jinx?” he asked, anguish filling his eyes.
Nothing about our break up had been easy. I cried myself to sleep for a month, and, as I reminded him, splitting up had not been my idea.
That’s when he caught hold of my hands and said, “I deserve that.I was a coward. I made a terrible mistake. Please forgive me, Jinx. Please let’s try again.”
When I told him he couldn’t be serious, he kissed me to prove he was and, well, I kissed him back. What can I say? The aching familiarity of our history just pulled me in. To my credit, I did come to my senses, I did push him away, and then that jealous side of his personality reared its ugly head.
“Because of Lucas Grayson?” he asked, with an edge in his voice.
“That,” I said, “will get you absolutely nowhere, Chase. We aren’t going to do this because none of the things that made our relationship hard have changed in the slightest. Now I’m going back to Granddad’s. You can walk with me or not, it’s up to you, but I’m done with drama for the day.”
We went back, but Chase made one thing clear — he didn’t intend to give up.
By sundown, everyone had essentially slipped into a post-Christmas coma from an overabundance of food and emotion.
Mom was so happy to be with Connor she burst into tears every time she looked at him. Gemma and Tori kept up a good front, but I know their first post-divorce holiday weighed on them both, and then, in one of the most touching moments of the day, we found out why Beau had reacted so oddly at the mention of his sword on Thanksgiving.
The gallant colonel sold his cherished weapon to an online collector to raise money to buy gifts for everyone, including purchasing his late wife’s antique cameo for me. As if that weren’t moving enough, Tori figured out what he’d done and bought the sword back. I’ll never forget the expression on Beau’s face when he opened the box and saw the saber.
When Tori said, “A colonel in the Army of Northern Virginia can’t be without his sword,” I honestly thought Beau was going to cry. Instead, he thanked Tori for reuniting him “with an old comrade” before wrapping her in a hug so heartfelt it brought tears to her eyes.
The sun had hardly set when people began to drag off to bed. Ultimately, I found myself sitting in the deserted parlor with only Dílestos for company.
The arrival of the walking stick in Shevington came as a total surprise, especially since it was delivered by our next door neighbor and fellow witch, Amity Prescott.
Amity spent most of the summer and fall missing in action. She helped with the paranormal festival, but she didn’t involve herself in any of the events surrounding Chesterfield’s ambitions. Frankly,
that ticked me off a little bit. I felt we needed all hands on deck, but Granddad insisted Amity was doing what she was supposed to be doing.
With her usual brusque manner, Amity refused to come to Shevington for the holiday weekend, preferring to stay in Briar Hollow and take care of my cats, which I did appreciate. Amity did, however, show up for Christmas dinner, Dílestos in hand.
“Forget something?” she asked, shoving the oak staff into my hand.
“Uh, not really,” I admitted.
“Are you simple minded?” she asked, glaring at me.
“Excuse me?” I said, more than a little put off by her question.
Her response made me feel about three inches tall and dumber than dirt.
“When Chesterfield kidnapped your brother, what was the ransom?” she asked.
“A living branch of the Mother Tree,” I said.
“And what is Dílestos?”
Oh, crud. The staff is a living branch of the Mother Tree.
“I honestly didn’t put that together, Amity,” I admitted.
“Nor did anyone else, apparently,” she huffed. “Someone must be with Dílestos at all times. Don’t leave her alone again.”
So there I sat at the end of Christmas Day holding a stick, one with the ability to enter my thoughts and hold conversations. Dílestos, like everyone else, seemed to have one goal in mind — getting me to talk to the Mother Tree.
I hadn’t paid my respects to the Oak since our arrival in Shevington on purpose. It may not have been the most mature position to take, but frankly, I was ticked off at the Tree for refusing to let me talk to Myrtle. That was the deal when Myrtle merged her essence with the Oak to heal — I would get to talk to her. Didn’t happen. Not even once.
That night, however, when Dílestos added her voice to all the other people who had been bugging me about having a conversation with the Tree, I gave in. The Lord High Mayor’s house sits right across the square from the Oak, and I was out of excuses.
From the way the air instantly warmed when I stepped under the Mother Tree’s spreading branches, I knew that she had been patiently waiting for me.
The Amulet of Caorunn (A Jinx Hamilton Mystery Book 7) Page 12