“The heritage of the Grove. One of its tenets is that we do not associate with fairies.”
I snorted. “But witches have been the victims of prejudice and persecution for centuries. Why would you be intolerant of fairies?”
“It was the association of witches with demons – which is just another name for what you call fairies – that brought about that persecution. It is also well known that fey blood neutralizes a witch’s power, which is why I assumed you showed no signs of any talent for witchcraft. Your mother assured me she saw no sign of it.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “Though perhaps we were both hasty in that judgment … at any rate, now that you do know the true nature of Fairwick College it would be best if you resigned.”
I sat back in my chair, yanking my hand out of Adelaide’s claw-like grasp, and stared at my grandmother. Small white lines had appeared around the corners of her mouth where she clenched the muscles to control her expression. I could feel the anger rising off her, though, like heat waves, except that her anger was a cold thing. I noticed, too, now that neither of us were speaking that the Laurel Parlour was deadly silent. Tucked away in their deep cavernous chairs the members of the Grove were listening.
“And if I don’t resign from Fairwick?” I asked, pitching my voice loud enough to be heard throughout the hushed room. “What will your club do to me?”
“You always were so dramatic, Callie.” She shook her head and smiled, almost fondly, as though at a small pet’s misbehavior. “The Grove won’t do anything to you, but …” Her smile vanished. “Neither will we help you if you are in danger there. And trust me, sooner or later, you will be in danger there.”
I thought of the incubus who had nearly wrecked my house and the vampire who had gotten me to agree to an ambiguous deal. I thought about Frank Delmarco, who was hiding the fact he was a witch. What I had always hated about fighting with my grandmother was that she often made a good point. And that she often turned out to be right.
But she wasn’t always right. She had discouraged my friendship with Annie (that little Italian girl) and told me not to write a book about vampires, “because vampires had gone out after Anne Rice.” I had to hope she was wrong about Fairwick, because even though I had seriously considered resigning on the drive down to the city, I knew now that it was the last thing I wanted to do. In fact, I couldn’t wait to get back.
“You always told me to rely on myself,” I said, rising to my feet. “So that’s what I’m going to do. Rely on myself and the good friends and neighbors I’ve found at Fairwick. And if you – or any of your club – should change your minds about Fairwick, I’m sure you’ll find that the door is open.”
I had only meant to extend a message of tolerance (one I was very far from feeling at the moment), but when I uttered the last four words Adelaide’s face turned ashen.
“The door is open?” she repeated hoarsely.
So there was one thing she didn’t know. “Yes,” I said, smiling. “I opened it.” Then I turned and walked away across the soft carpet, past the plush upholstered chairs, feeling like a small naked field mouse making its way through a forest populated with sharp-clawed owls watching me from their roosts.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
“WHO WOULD HAVE believed it?” I complained to Ralph as I threw my clothes into my suitcase. “My grandmother is a witch and so is Frank Delmarco – gruff, beer-swilling, football-watching Frank Delmarco!”
Ralph, perched on top of the flat-screen TV to keep from being trampled during my frenzied packing, squeaked.
“And clearly Frank’s hiding something because no one at the college knows he’s a witch. Maybe he’s there to watch poor Nicky succumb to his curse.”
Ralph stood up on his hind legs and squeaked again.
“Yes, I know it’s not certain that he’s the one who placed the curse on the Ballards. It could be the Scudder descendant who sneaked that lacuna in that book, but then what is Frank Delmarco doing at the college incognito? I say it’s too much of a coincidence.”
I started to close my suitcase but Ralph jumped into it – an impressive four foot leap that made him look like a flying squirrel.
“I wasn’t forgetting you, but you don’t have to ride in a suitcase.” I held open a Century 21 bag that still had the tissue paper from the last-minute Christmas shopping I’d done two days ago. “Jump in here for now, then you can sit up in the front seat.”
Ralph looked at the bag dubiously, then he made another impressive leap onto my laptop, which lay open on the desk.
“Hey, no, fellow! I told you to stay off that.” I scooped up Ralph, who was chittering loudly now, and dropped him in the shopping bag. “Or were you just reminding me not to forget it? Thanks, little guy.”
I slid the laptop into its case and shouldered it along with my purse. I took one look around the room to make sure I wasn’t forgetting anything. It occurred to me that if I did forget something the hotel would call Paul because the room was registered under his name, and then he would have to call me …
I checked the back of the bathroom door, found my nightgown hanging there, and stuffed it the Century 21 bag with Ralph. “I think we’re done here,” I told Ralph and then closed the door behind me.
I had to wait another twenty minutes for the valet to bring my car around. I tipped everyone handsomely and then promptly got lost in the maze of one-way streets around Ground Zero. It was after four by the time I was headed up the West Side Highway, the sun hanging low above New Jersey on the other side of the river. Another night drive, then.
“That’s okay,” I told Ralph, who had curled up in my scarf on the front passenger seat. “I did okay coming down here.”
I hadn’t counted on the snow. I was too preoccupied by the surprising revelations of the day to listen to the weather and traffic reports on the radio. If I had, I would have stayed on the highway instead of taking the shortcut over the mountain. I was only twenty miles from Fairwick when the snow began. It started out as light flurries, but within minutes it was coming down so heavily I had trouble making out the yellow dividing line. I considered pulling over, but the fields on either side of the road stretched off emptily into the dark shadows of the woods – shadows that seemed to move when I glanced at them out of the corner of my eye. I had the feeling that if I stopped here the snow would cover the car and I’d freeze to death, or worse, that one of those shadows might detach itself from the woods and come loping across the fields. I was on the edge of the forest that surrounded Fairwick now, the same forest that contained the door to another world. I had bragged that I opened the door – and Anton Volkov had said it would remain open until the last day of the year. That meant that it was still open. Who knew what creatures might have come through the door and even now be prowling through the woods and fields for prey?
So I drove on … crawled on, rather, at fifteen miles per hour, gripping the wheel so hard my knuckles were white and leaning forward to make out the yellow dividing line. Even with the defrost running full blast, the windshield kept fogging up. Ralph jumped up on the dash and whisked a space clear with his paws, then remained on the dashboard peering worriedly into the snow and shaking his head so often that he looked like one of those bobble-head dashboard ornaments. I was glad to have him there.
When we drove through Bovine Corners I looked for an open gas station or diner where I could stop, but the white clapboard houses and farms were strangely dark. I wondered why everyone would be asleep so early, but when I stopped at the town’s one traffic light I saw that all the shutters had been closed over all the windows. For the storm, maybe? Or because the residents of Bovine Corners were afraid of the creatures that came through the door at this time of the year? As I drove, slowly through the town, I noticed, too, that hung on every door was a round wreath – or what I at first took for wreaths. On closer inspection I realized they were hex signs. I supposed that wasn’t so odd in an agricultural area with lots of Dutch settlers, but although these hex signs su
perficially resembled those of the Pennsylvania Dutch, there were subtle differences. Instead of birds and tulips these signs were painted with large eyes and gargoyle faces – apotropaic symbols to ward off evil. On the last barn on the town’s edge, just as the road began to climb toward Fairwick, a huge hex sign had been painted with a grinning gorgon’s face, its menacing eyes staring into the woods between the two towns. What were they afraid of? I wondered, as I shifted my car into second gear to climb the long slippery hill. What had they seen come out of these woods?
Well, the residents of Bovine Corners weren’t the only ones with access to magic. There was one spell I remembered from the spellbook – a spell for safe homecoming. It simply involved repeating the word for home in three different languages: Casa, heima, teg. That should be easy enough. Even if I had shown no talent for witchcraft, as Adelaide had said, and I was tainted with fey blood. I repeated the words while concentrating on keeping a steady pressure on the gas pedal. If I had to stop here I’d never get the traction to start up again. The trees came close to the shoulder now, tall pines that grew in serried ranks that hemmed in the narrow route. If I ran off the road I’d plow straight into one of them. When I reached the top of the hill I let out a long breath that fogged the window.
“Pshew! Ralph, that was scary. At least it’s all downhill from here.”
Ralph gave me a quick nervous look and pressed his nose against the windshield. I looked ahead and saw what he was worried about. The road curved downward at a steep grade and it was slick with unplowed snow. I took a deep breath and slowly edged the car over the precipice, keeping one foot on the brake. As I picked up speed I realized that if I braked too quickly I’d skid. Although there were still trees on the left side of the road, on the right the mountainside fell away in a sheer drop to the valley. I could see the lights of Fairwick down below, beckoning like a safe harbor. Home, I thought, Casa, heima, teg. Suddenly the rear wheels fishtailed and I went into a skid. For one horrible moment I saw the lights of Fairwick gleaming out of the falling snow. Had my spell backfired? Maybe Adelaide was right about my lack of magic talent? Was it trying to take me back to Fairwick by the most direct route? I heard Ralph excitedly squeaking … and then somehow the car straightened itself at the last minute and we sailed down the last slope onto Main Street.
I was shaking so badly that I had to pull over. I peeled my fingers off the steering wheel, closed my eyes, and said a little prayer of thanks. When I opened my eyes I saw that I was in front of the Fair Grounds café. “What say we treat ourselves to some hot chocolate?” I said to Ralph. But when I got out, I saw that the café was dark. A cheery sign with snowflakes and pinecones announced: CLOSED FOR THE HOLIDAYS! SEE YOU IN THE NEW YEAR!
Looking up the street I noticed that all the shops, at least some of which usually stayed open late for students, were closed. I supposed it made sense since the students were all gone, but I was disappointed at how dreary the town looked. Well, I thought, getting back in the car, Diana will be home at the inn … and Liam would be there. At least he hadn’t said anything about going away for the holidays, but then our last encounter had ended rather abruptly. It was probably going to be awkward the first few times I ran into him … Better if he had gone away for the holidays. But if he hadn’t, I’d just act like nothing had happened.
I started the car and drove to the end of Main Street, peering at all the shops with their CLOSED FOR THE HOLIDAYS! signs. It looked like the whole town had cleared out for the period between Christmas and New Year’s.
I turned right up the hill that climbed to my house and saw that most of the houses on my street were dark, too. Oddly, though, the woods to my right weren’t completely dark. Lights flickered through the trees as if someone had strung Christmas lights through their branches. I was staring into the woods when an enormous antlered buck bolted right in front of my wheels. I slammed on the brakes and went into my second skid of the night. This time I wasn’t able to come out of it. The car spun completely around, ploughed into the woods and pitched down into a gully. I ended up at a tilt, my headlights tearing a crooked path through the snowy woods. I stared dumbly into it, too rattled to move, watching the snow fall through my high beams. Then I looked for Ralph.
He was on the floor of the backseat, puffed up like a dandelion seed head, a crumpled Post-it note sticking to his right hind leg, but otherwise he looked okay.
“Thank goodness we weren’t hurt,” I said, “but I think we’re going to have to walk from here.”
I turned off the engine and the lights. Darkness enveloped the car. I was tempted to turn the lights back on, but then I’d have to add a drained battery to the list of repairs on the car. I checked the glove compartment for a flashlight, but there wasn’t one. Then I put Ralph in my pocket and got out.
The dome light briefly showed how close I’d come to hitting a tree; then I closed the door and found myself in the dark again. Not total darkness though. The falling snow seemed to carry its own soft silvery light, but it didn’t really illuminate anything. There was light coming from somewhere, though, probably from the street, I guessed, but the gully I’d landed in was so deep I couldn’t see streetlights. Nor could I climb back up the way I had come because the slope was too steep on that side. I’d have to walk parallel to the street until the slope leveled. Sooner or later I would run into my house, which was at the top of the hill on this side of the road.
I locked the car and started trudging uphill, bending my head down against the blowing snow. I was wearing a warm pair of sheepskin boots, so I didn’t feel the cold right away, but after about ten minutes I discovered that my expensive and stylish sheepskin boots weren’t even the least bit waterproof. Once the snow seeped through my whole body felt cold. I considered going back to the car for a pair of rubber boots that I’d thrown in the trunk a month ago, but decided that was silly – I must be almost home.
I lifted my head and squinted through the driving snow. Yes, I could see small twinkling lights up ahead. Had I left the Christmas lights on? Or maybe Brock had come by to check on the house and left them on to welcome me home. Casa, heima, teg.
I quickened my pace, stamping my feet with every step to shake some warmth into them and keeping my eyes on the twinkling lights. They weren’t as close as they looked, though. In fact they seemed to recede as I approached, floating through the swirling snow … I stopped and looked around me. The lights were moving. They were swaying with the wind in the branches all around me. I peered closer and saw that hanging from the branches were the frozen ornaments that the townspeople had made during the ice storm – ice angels, partridges, elves and reindeer. I could see the little charms that had been embedded inside the ice because the ice was glowing. As the wind moved them they clinked against each other like crystal chandelier drops, making a shivery chime that filled the woods. I had never actually felt magic before, but I knew it when I felt it and I could feel it now, stirring all around me, the power of all the wishes, hopes and dreams contained within the charmed ornaments straining to break through their ice shells. It was a feeling of anticipation, as keen as the bite of the icy wind, swelling to the breaking point. Just as the feeling became unbearable something crashed out of the brush directly behind me. I whirled around, nearly losing my balance in the deep snow, and found myself facing an enormous buck – no doubt the same one that had run in front of my car earlier. It looked at me with wide sentient eyes. Its antlers cast wide branching shadows across the snow. It huffed, its breath frosting in the cold air, and then lowered its head slowly to the ground. I noticed then that its antlers were tipped with silver and it wore a leather and silver collar around its broad neck.
“Are you from … the other side?” I asked.
But the buck only pawed the ground. Then it lifted its head, sniffed the air, its ears twitching, and leapt away as suddenly as it had appeared. I listened for what had frightened it, but all I heard was the chiming of the ice ornaments.
I turned and went on
, soon coming out into a clearing that I recognized as my own front yard. Honeysuckle House was twenty yards away, my front porch light shining through the snow. I struck out for it, breaking into a clumsy run through the ankle-deep snow, but then something hit my head. I turned and met the yellow eyes of an enormous black bird, its talons stretched out. I ducked and flung my arm up to protect my face. The bird screeched horribly when I hit it and beat the air with its huge black wings, like a swimmer treading water. Its yellow eyes latched on to me, their hatred piercing the snow better than my high beams had.
Then it gathered itself for another dive.
I crouched and covered my face, sure it meant to pluck out my eyes, steeling myself for its talons and beak tearing into my flesh. But instead I heard a hollow thwack followed by the bird’s outraged scream and then the heavy beat of its wings. I uncovered my face and looked up at the figure towering above me, his back to me. Black feathers clung to his shoulders like a capelet. When he turned, the black feathers drifted down in front of me and landed in the snow, staining the white with splatters of blood. I looked up again, half expecting, half fearing that those yellow eyes would still be there. That the bird had transformed itself into this bloodied, feathered man, but the eyes regarding me were the soft brown eyes of Liam Doyle.
“Bloody hell, Callie!” he said, crouching down in front of me, “What did you do to piss off that bird?” His voice was shaking. I saw he still clutched the stick he’d used to fend off the bird. It was matted with blood and feathers.
“Liam, how did you know …? What are you doing here?”
“I was sitting in my room at the window, watching the snow fall, and then I saw someone in the woods. When you came out onto the lawn I saw it was you – and then I saw that crazy crow come out of the woods behind you. You know, I think it was the same one that attacked you the day you left … only it looks like it’s grown …”
Incubus Page 28
