I don’t know why it seemed so urgent now. It was like I was racing to find safety there. I didn’t know I would be any safer at Aunt Marigold’s than anywhere else. Her roof could cave in, or a jet engine could drop out of the sky the moment I turned twenty-four.
I sat quietly, looking out into the dawn as we drove.
By the time we reached Aunt Marigold’s house, the sun had just finished cresting the horizon. It was one of those old thatched roof homes nestled in the trees. It was set amongst the typical English cottage garden filled with delphiniums and hollyhocks. There was a faint hint of mint to the air.
We approached the iron gates. Chris lingered behind.
“You sure this is the place?” he asked, looking around.
I nodded. I remembered it well. It was like nothing had changed in the last seven years.
I pushed open the gates. They creaked, but not horribly.
There was a slight breeze that made the wind chimes ring close to the house. The flowers here were beautiful and I stopped to watch as a couple of finches swept down from one of the cherry trees. This place was simply right. It held the magic that my heart remembered well. I closed my eyes and inhaled it. I almost felt like I was sixteen once more.
I ambled through the garden, following a path that wound around the house. It was still fairly early, and I didn’t want to wake my aunt. It wasn’t like she was expecting me.
A few statues of faery-like creatures were scattered about and there was a small pond off to one end. The garden was still well-tended.
As I wrapped back towards the front of the house, the door opened. The woman that stepped out was exactly as I remembered her — curly hair that was white as cotton. Her face still looked youthful and a few smile lines wrinkled the corners of her eyes as she saw me. She raised her jewel-bedecked hands towards me.
“Oh, you made it, luv! You made it!” Her voice still had that musical ring to it.
Her words made me think that perhaps she’d been expecting me. Regardless, I smiled. It was nice to be welcomed somewhere.
“Hello, Aunt Marigold,” I said and hugged her. She was hardly a frail woman, and her embrace was like that of a bear. She smelled of lilac.
“Oh, child, I’m so glad you came. Just in time, I’d say.”
This was the point where I knew I needed to ask.
“You were expecting me?”
“Oh, yes. I’ve been sending Brokk to you for years, but it’s gotten more urgent lately.”
“Brokk?” I asked.
“Well, yes,” she said. “You remember Brokk, don’t you?” With her crooked index finger she pointed towards a statue in the garden. Next to it stood the little green man.
I wasn’t sure what to do with that. My Aunt had been sending little mysterious creatures to get my attention? Couldn’t she have phoned? Maybe sent a letter? But then, she had been sending them. And I had ignored them.
“You sent him?” I asked.
I heard Chris approach from behind and I realized I hadn’t introduced him.
“I’m sorry, Aunt Marigold, this is—”
“Chris. Yes, I know, dear. I sent him as well.”
My eyes popped out of my head.
What?
Chapter 12
At this point, my mind almost started to spin. I reached out to grab the house to stop myself from falling.
Aunt Marigold had sent Chris? What the hell was going on?
“I think I need to sit down,” I said. I stooped to sit on the ground, but my aunt’s firm hand grabbed me and gently escorted me into the house.
I wasn’t paying attention to what had changed here. I just needed to sit.
She sat me down in a wooden chair at the old kitchen table. I put my head in my hands.
What I needed right now was a good strong dose of Dr. White’s Crazy Pills and a big long sleep. Maybe I’d wake up and find this was all a dream. I thought about clicking my heels together because this sure as hell wasn’t Kansas anymore.
I looked at Chris. His eyes refused to meet mine.
“Chris, dear,” my aunt said, “you should wait outside. Let me speak with Katherine alone.”
Chris slipped out. He gave one last look in my direction, but now I couldn’t look at him.
“What is going on?” I asked, my head feeling like a lead weight. Through what frail grasp I had on reality, I could feel my sanity slipping. Tears welled up in my eyes.
“I need to lie down,” I said. I couldn’t take any more. I was exhausted, mentally, physically, and emotionally.
Aunt Marigold escorted me to the sofa with a knitted afghan on it. It still smelled like old lady. I flopped onto it. My Aunt draped the afghan over me, stroked my hair, and left me there.
I closed my eyes, wishing all this would go away.
I was asleep in seconds.
I don’t remember a lot of my dreams, but this one was particularly vivid. It was one of those dreams within a dream. Two levels down from the real world, I walked through a forest, except the trees weren’t like ordinary trees — the bark seemed velvety. Also, the forest smelled different. It didn’t have that musty smell. Instead it was more like apples and berries.
Flowers grew among the trees, and the sunlight that penetrated the canopy was soft and golden.
I looked down. I was wearing a formal silk gown. It cinched at the waist and was obscenely puffy — something I would only be seen in if it was a costume party, if then. Most of it was a deep emerald that matched the earrings I’d been given. I reached to my ears. The earrings weren’t there.
A stream wound through the forest and I caught a glimpse of movement. I hitched up the dress and stepped forward in my bare feet. The ground was soft and supple.
Along the shore, delicate creatures winged about, frolicking with each other. They looked at me, giggled and waved. I waved back. It seemed the polite thing to do. Then they flew downstream.
I considered following them, but decided to take the opposite direction.
The trek upstream was an easy one. It wasn’t like in other dreams where I would have to run to get somewhere and barely gain any ground. This was a smooth walk, almost effortless. I came to a part of the stream where the water flowed down a small rocky ledge in a little waterfall. A large boulder split the stream, just down from where the water frothed and bubbled. Upon it stood the little green man — Brokk, as my aunt had called him.
He wasn’t waving to me, nor was he motioning me to put on earrings. He had his hands up, gesturing for me to stop. There was a look of worry on his usually serene face.
I kneeled at the side of the stream. Brokk found little rocks to jump across and made his way to me.
“Hello, Brokk,” I said. I think I was starting to accept he was real. A million questions still ran through my mind, but I knew that what I had been experiencing had been real all this time.
Brokk said nothing. I don’t know if he was capable of speaking, but as he pointed up at the waterfall and shook his head, I understood what he was saying. After everything I’d seen, I pondered taking his advice. All this time it seemed he’d been somehow trying to help me. Perhaps it would be prudent to listen and just let whatever waited up that waterfall be. On the other hand, telling me not to do something was just an open invitation. So, with my curiosity piqued, I rose and tiptoed further, taking care to not to let my head emerge too quickly above the rise.
I inched up.
At first I didn’t see anything that warranted concern, but then I saw, just a little ways off in the distance, a clearing in the trees. In it were two people — the man was dark-haired and clean-cut with that prominent chin I had come to expect from the Gregory family. With him was the golden-haired woman.
I wasn’t sure if they were dancing or wrestling, but I ducked the moment I saw her.
Oh, god.
The last time I’d come across her, she’d tried to kill me. I would have thought it just a dream if I hadn’t coughed up salt water all over Chris.
Perhaps I should have taken Brokk’s advice. Coming up here was a bad idea.
The part of my head that was most interested in self-preservation finally took over. I slipped carefully back down to where I’d found Brokk.
He was gone.
I didn’t plan on sticking around either.
I didn’t want to know how this Gregory died. I didn’t want to witness it, and I didn’t want that woman to find me.
I decided to travel downstream this time and I hustled. In fact, I hitched up my dress and ran. Pounding in my chest was a terrible fear. Sobs of fright escaped my lips with tears that slid down my cheeks.
The stream ran with me, fast and choppy over rocky terrain. I didn’t stop. My feet swept forward at a pace that in the real world I could never match. Through the trees I fled, until I found the little winged creatures I’d seen earlier. They gathered at a pool that the stream fed into.
Breathless, I paused at its edge. A cluster of men and women, most pale of skin, frolicked naked in the water.
Among them was Chris.
I didn’t know what to do, but being frightened for my life and seeing a familiar face, his name escaped my lips before I had a chance to think if that was a good idea or not.
“Chris,” I whispered.
He didn’t seem to hear me. He kept frolicking with the others, and eventually it took a bit of a different turn. The light playing started to turn into heavy petting. I stood agape for a moment. He cavorted with all of them, kissing them each, in turn.
My heart ached. I closed my eyes.
This wasn’t real. It was just a dream.
I tried to rationalize it. We’d only just hooked up. It’s not like we’d been together long.
Yet, there was an ache in my chest. We’d been friends for a year. During that time, I’d grown to like him and maybe something more. Yet now that I finally had him, here he was doing this.
I shook my head.
It’s a dream, Katherine. Not real.
Then something happened in the pool.
They all started to sprout tattoo-like markings, except they were golden and glowing. Their ears changed to pointed tips. When it happened to Chris as well, I shook my head. I thought it couldn’t be him, but those emerald eyes looked in my direction. He smiled that grin at me, and then I woke up.
The smell of berries and apples was the first thing I noticed. Then it was the smell of old lady sofa. I opened my eyes and found Aunt Marigold sitting on a matching puffy chair. There was a warmth to her eyes. It made me think of how I’d watched my father look at my nine-month-old self.
“Hello, luv,” she said. “Feeling better?”
Chris stood in the background, leaning against the wall. I knew what I’d just dreamt wasn’t real, but something was off. His stance, his look — none of them were Chris. At least, not the Chris I knew. His eyes refused to look at mine.
“Perhaps a cup of tea will help,” Aunt Marigold said. There was a pot, complete with tea cozy, sitting on the coffee table. Delicate cups with milk and sugar waited. I sat up and Aunt Marigold poured.
Chris shifted over by the wall, arms folded across his chest. He was obviously unhappy about something.
The main thing about him that kept droning in my head was how my aunt could have sent him. Natalie had been my roommate for a year. She was supposed to be his sister. I rarely saw her as she was always traveling, but I’d been associating with Chris to one degree or another since she’d moved in.
What kind of setup was this?
Yet, Chris was the one who brought the ficus. And, it was after the plant showed up I started seeing more of the little green dude. It seemed almost ridiculous to make the assumption, but then again, if my aunt had sent Brokk, or whatever his name was, then it was very possible she could have sent Chris. So what the hell was he?
I shuddered.
I’d slept with him.More than once.
I took a deep breath. It was time to take back some control. I was going to get some answers. Now.
I stood up and marched over to him. He unfolded his arms, but fidgeted where he stood.
“What are you?” I asked him.
He almost fell over. This time, his eyes looked into mine, and I made sure he knew I wasn’t playing around. Those green eyes weren’t going to charm their way out of this.
Chris cast a questioning look at my aunt.
“No,” I said. “You look at me. And you tell me the truth. You owe me at least that much.”
His eyes still had trouble meeting mine.
“You’re not human, are you?” I asked.
I really wished he would tell me otherwise, but my heart sank when he looked at me. His eyes weren’t shining.
“No,” he said.
Chris didn’t budge or blink.
“Then what are you?”
I couldn’t believe I was having this conversation.Oh, god, I slept with him.
“I’m a Changeling,” he finally said.
The word repeated itself in my head.
Changeling. Changeling.
I can’t say I was all that up on folklore, but somehow the word made me think of stolen babies. I looked over at my aunt.
“A Changeling?” I asked.
She nodded her head, acknowledging that what he’d said was truth.
“All right, either both of you are horribly insane or someone better fill me in on what’s going on because I really feel like someone just took a chainsaw to the little bubble I used to call my world.”
My aunt sat on the sofa and patted the seat next to her. “Sit,” she said. “Have some tea and we’ll tell you what you need to know.”
My mind spun for a moment. Was I really having this conversation?
I looked back at Chris. I didn’t have to tell him in words he’d lied to me and betrayed me. I made sure my eyes told him. He had trouble holding my gaze before he gestured to the sofa.
“Please, Katherine.”
I wanted to slap him. I turned my back to him and marched to the sofa.
My aunt poured us both a cup of tea, two lumps in mine, five in hers.
Chris sat down in the puffy chair, arms resting on his knees, hands folded in front of him.
“All right,” I said, trying to keep my mind open. I looked right at him. “Start at the beginning. And don’t leave anything out.”
Chapter 13
Aunt Marigold drained her tea cup before she spoke. She seemed to need to think as to where to begin. I sipped as I waited for her, but was getting close to choking the words out of her. It was starting to eat at me that the two of them had been plotting something behind my back.
“First,” Aunt Marigold said, “to answer your question, yes, Chris is a Changeling — his father was one of the fey folk, his mother was human.”
I nodded.Fine. My first love left me without any explanation and ripped my heart to shreds, and now I’d just slept with, and was falling for, something that wasn’t human.
Just fucking grand.
“Second, I sent him to you. You didn’t respond to my past letters, asking you to visit. And the medication that your mother had you on for years was blocking your ability to communicate with Brokk and the others.”
I looked at Chris. “Is that why you brought the ficus?”
He nodded.
“So how were you planning on getting me here?” I asked. “We got here just in time for my birthday. And it was because of those papers I got from Mother that all of this started to happen.”
He shrugged. “I had trouble with you. Those meds, or something, was stopping me from charming you. The papers were just the excuse I needed to get you on a plane.”
A few things were running through my mind. The most emotional one burst forward.
“What do you mean by charming me? What the hell is that?”
He looked at Aunt Marigold for help.
I put up my finger. “No, I want to hear it from you.”
He took a breath and his h
ands fidgeted. “I can charm almost anyone into doing what I want. It’s sort of a gift of mine. In the beginning I tried using it on you, but it didn’t work.”
“What? Oh my god, is that why I slept with you, because you charmed me into it?”
He raised his hands. His eyes had a pleading look. “No, it’s not like that!”
I got up. I felt dirty and used.
I marched out the door, even though I heard the two of them calling after me.
“Katherine!”
I trudged for the gates. I wasn’t sure I could take any more of this. I needed to clear my head, or go for a drive, or go home and hide under the covers, or dope myself into Chris-less oblivion with Dr. White’s Make-It-All-Go-Away pills.
“Katherine!” called Aunt Marigold. “You can’t leave!”
Chris’s feet padded the ground behind me, but I wasn’t stopping. My feet stormed forward.
He grabbed me by the shoulder. I almost swung around and hit him.
“You can’t leave,” he said. “Your birthday has now passed and the only place you’re safe is within this garden.”
I fisted my hands. “What are you talking about?”
“The woman who’s after you, she can’t get past the iron gates. You’re safe in here.”
I looked to the gates. She certainly wasn’t standing there waiting for me. I continued to march towards them.
“Katherine, please,” he said. He kept pace beside me. “The moment you step out those gates, she has you.”
“I don’t believe you,” I said. The problem was, I did. And I was scared shitless. I was losing control of everything around me and I needed to have something that was mine, some piece of my life I had control over. Even if it was the ability to step outside those gates and prove to myself I still owned my destiny.
I continued on, bent on proving him wrong.
He grabbed me again. “Please Katherine, don’t do this,” he pleaded.
“Well, then why don’t you use one of your little charms on me?” I pretty much spat the words at him.
Broken: A Paranormal Romance Page 7
