Faerie Tale

by Raymond Feist

  He put down the lantern, and she turned her head away from the blinding light. “Oh God, what’s going on?” he said in a hoarse whisper. Her eyes refused to focus and she could only vaguely sense Jack’s words; their meaning slipped away before she could apprehend them. The fragments of thought began to coalesce, and she looked down. Her body was near-nude, her shirt unbuttoned and pulled back, her jeans and panties yanked down around one ankle. She was lying in the mud alongside the path toward the Troll Bridge in the woods. Her breasts were covered with teeth marks and scratches, as was her stomach. Her nipples were throbbing from the cold, and pain shot up into her groin each time she moved. Gabbie became aware of her damp hair matted on her head and face, obscuring her vision, and she feebly attempted to brush dark strands of it from her eyes. She blinked in confusion and began to cry. She weakly reached toward Jack. He said, “Oh God, Gabbie, what happened?” as he cradled her in his arms.

  Finally she spoke. “Jack?” Her voice was a dry half-whisper.

  Gabbie felt him quickly pick her up. As he bore her back to the house, she felt her control slip away. The last hint of the soul-shaking terror and the memory of the insane, blinding lust vanished, replaced by a revulsion so deep it caused her mind to knot in torment. She cried, deep sobs racking her body with uncontrollable trembling. Her stomach knotted a moment later and she turned her head and vomited. Between sobs she whispered, “Jack, I’m so scared.” She was still crying when he carried her into the kitchen, just before she slipped into unconsciousness.

  2

  Gabbie blinked. Her head pounded and her mouth was dry. “Water,” she said, and her voice was a dry croak. Gloria poured her a glass from a pitcher and helped her lift up to drink. Gabbie’s head reeled with the effort, as she was overcome with dizziness. The water was cool and fresh, and Gabbie drank deeply. Quickly the dizziness passed and she took in her surroundings. She was in her own bedroom.

  Gloria stood beside the bed, Phil just behind her. “You okay, honey?” asked Gloria.

  “Sure, I guess.” Gabbie smiled weakly. “What happened?”

  Gloria glanced at Phil, who said, “We were hoping you could tell us. Don’t you remember?”

  “Remember what?” Gabbie asked.

  Gloria sat on a chair next to the bed. “You went into the barn about seven-thirty yesterday. Jack showed up at eight and I thought you’d come up here to your room. When I discovered you weren’t here, Jack grabbed a lantern and went to the barn. You were nowhere to be found, but he saw footprints in the muddy ground, heading across the meadow toward the woods. He followed them and found you on the path.”

  Gabbie’s brow furrowed as she thought. “I … I remember going to turn the hay for the horses, and I was thinking.…” Her voice trailed off. “I can’t remember anything else.” Suddenly she was visited by dread; but she couldn’t identify the source of that feeling. It was only a nameless and numbing terror. The color drained from her cheeks and she whispered, “What happened?”

  Phil said, “Honey, someone tried to rape you.”

  Gabbie fell silent. Somehow that didn’t seem possible. She thought that if someone tried to rape you, you’d remember. Softly she said, “Rape?” She looked at her father and saw that his face was a mask of controlled anger. For the first time since she had come to live with him, she saw her father truly enraged. “Someone tried to rape me?”

  “You were pretty beat up, honey,” said Gloria. “And you were burning up with a fever. You’d been left.…”

  Gabbie looked down at herself, as if trying to see through the covers and the T-shirt she wore, as if trying to see inside her own body. “Did … ? Was …?”

  Gloria took Gabbie’s hand. “The doctor will be here soon. Look, we can talk about it more later. You need your rest.”

  Gabbie lay back against the pillows. “I’m not tired. Just confused.”

  Phil said, “You don’t remember anything?”

  Gabbie felt her fears diminish. The possibility of rape seemed somehow distant. She felt bruised and battered, but somehow not.… She didn’t know what she felt. Then she said, “Jack?”

  “He’s downstairs, waiting,” said Phil. “He’s been here all night, slept on the couch, if he slept at all.”

  “The boys?” Suddenly Gabbie was concerned for her brothers. If some maniac was on the loose, they might be in danger.

  “They’re okay.”

  “Can I see Jack?”

  “Sure,” said Gloria, rising from the chair beside the bed. Phil kissed Gabbie and followed his wife from the room. Almost instantly Jack was beside Gabbie. He looked haggard, unshaven, and rumpled. He smiled down at her. “Hi.”

  “Hi yourself,” she said, returning his smile. “Don’t I get a kiss?”

  He leaned over and kissed her. “Are you all right?”

  She said, “I … don’t know. Ah, I don’t remember much.” She studied his face and saw he was working hard to maintain a light manner. Behind the soft words and quick smile, he was seething and deeply troubled. “Are you okay?”

  The mask broke and tears gathered in his eyes. His voice became thick with emotion. “No, I … I’m not doing real good with this.” He took a deep breath. “I’m not a violent person, Gabbie, but I swear if I get my hands on that animal, I’ll kill him.”

  The strength of his emotions startled Gabbie. “Hey! Take it easy.”

  Jack’s control was lost and tears ran down his cheeks. He took her hand in his and looked at her. “I … I love you, you know?”

  She smiled. “I know. I love you, too.”

  He sat on the bedside and leaned over, kissing her again. “If anything happened … I’d go nuts, you know?” he whispered.

  “Ya, I know,” she whispered back, holding his head so his cheek rested against hers, ignoring the rasp of his beard stubble. At that moment she felt the bond between them and knew that whatever doubts she had felt were gone. There was a long silence, then she said, “It’s funny, but I don’t feel raped.” Jack stiffened, and she said, “Hey, calm down, Jack. I’m serious. I feel … tired, and bruised, but … somehow I don’t think.…” She looked at him. “I think I’d know.” Her eyes closed as she kissed Jack. She loosed her arms from around his neck and he sat back. “Something happened,” she said softly. Her voice lowered to a near whisper as fragments of images flashed past. “But … it wasn’t what they think.”

  Before Jack could answer, one of the boys shouted from below, “Doctor’s here!” The downstairs door could be heard opening, then slamming, as Sean or Patrick provided a loud welcome. A moment later Dr. John Latham entered and chased Jack from the room while he checked on his patient. Jack went downstairs and found Phil and Gloria talking to a man in the living room.

  The man looked up as Jack entered and Phil said, “Jack, this is Detective Mathews.” The police detective had arrived on the heels of the doctor and returned to what he had been saying when Jack had entered. “I’m sorry, Mr. Hastings, but if she can’t remember details, there’s little we can do.”

  Phil looked incensed. “My daughter was raped and you can’t do anything?”

  The detective held up his hands. “Mr. Hastings, I know you’re upset, but we won’t know if she was raped until the doctor says she was. From what you say of her condition, we can pretty well rule out that the girl beat and bit herself black and blue, so there is ample evidence of an assault. But unless we have a physical description of a suspect, we’re stuck at a dead end. We’ll have a car make additional patrols out here for a few days, and we’ll keep an eye out for any strange characters who might come through town, but we don’t have a lead. Hell, if it’s a transient, he could be halfway to anywhere by now.” He paused, and added, “I’m no lawyer, but even if we found someone, we still might not have a case for assault. Without a positive identification, we couldn’t tie him to this crime.”

  Phil said, “Look, I don’t care what you charge the bastard with. I just want him caught.”

  “We’ll
do what we can. Now, as soon as your daughter’s able, I’d like a few words with her.” He turned to Jack. “You’re the one who found her?” Jack nodded and the detective took him aside to ask some questions.

  A while later Dr. Latham came down the stairs. He said, “She’s fine. Just keep an eye on her for a day or two, and let me know if that fever comes back.” He looked disapprovingly at Phil and Gloria. “I wish you’d brought her in to the emergency room last night.”

  Gloria looked self-conscious. “I … it didn’t look especially bad, I mean the swelling of those bites and scratches didn’t start until this morning, or during the night.” Her voice trailed off as she added, “I have this thing about hospitals.…”

  “Well, I’ve given her a tetanus booster, and a shot of tetracycline, so those scratches won’t do much, but … look, I’m not going to lecture you. Just don’t be so quick to make a diagnosis in the future, all right?”

  Phil said, “We won’t,” and cast a sidelong glance at his wife. Last night Phil had been beside himself, and Gloria had appeared an island of calm, reassuring her husband that Gabbie was only a little bruised. He had been forced to agree, as he had helped put the feverish girl to bed, that the scratches on her breasts and stomach had looked minor. Gloria had judged Gabbie’s temperature to be little more than a hundred degrees, so he had grudgingly agreed not to rush her off to the hospital. This morning, when Gloria had looked in on her, the fever was still there and she had tossed off her covers in the night. Gloria had seen the welts that had come up during sleep and had rushed to the phone, getting Dr. Latham’s name from Aggie. It had taken all Gloria’s persuasiveness and dropping Aggie’s name to get him to agree to the house call.

  Phil said, “Doctor, what’s the story? Was Gabbie raped?”

  Dr. Latham said, “My best guess is not. There’re no physical signs of penetration.”

  “Are you sure?” asked Phil.

  The doctor understood Phil’s concern. “One hundred percent? No, anything is possible, but I’d bet thirty years of practice she wasn’t entered. No, your daughter was roughed up a good deal—those teeth marks are a symptom of a pretty sick mind at work.” He looked thoughtful a moment. “The marks are odd, more like burns than abrasions. And I swear there are tiny blisters on the skin below her pubic hair.” He regarded the puzzled expressions of Gloria and Phil, and said, “No, I don’t think she was raped.” After a short silence he said, “But, to all intents and purposes, it’s pretty much the same thing. She was violated and she needs to have some help dealing with that. I can recommend someone if you’d like.”

  “A psychiatrist?” said Phil.

  “Or a psychologist. Or someone from the rape assistance center up in Buffalo, maybe. Sign of emotional difficulty may not surface for a while, so keep an eye out. If she’s troubled, or has difficulty sleeping, or shows any unusual behavior, like becoming suddenly agitated or manic, or going quiet for long periods, just let me know. I’ll give you a referral.”

  Phil thanked the doctor, and the detective went up to question Gabbie briefly. When they had both left, Gloria went upstairs to sit with Gabbie. Phil and Jack stood in the living room and exchanged a look that revealed they both felt the same things: outrage and helplessness.

  3

  “Hey!” Gabbie shouted. As usual, her protests were ignored and the twins continued their battle. Pulling aside the covers of her bed, she got up and stormed down the hall to their room. Sean and Patrick were rolling on the floor, their tussle approaching the point where play verged on battle. “Hey!” Gabbie shouted again.

  The boys halted their struggle. Looking up, Sean said, “What?”

  “Take it outside,” ordered Gabbie.

  “Take what outside?” said Patrick with that evil expression only little brothers are capable of.

  “Your noise, your brother, and yourself,” she said, her patience at an end. “Or when Gloria and Dad get back, your little fannies’ll be in a sling.” She turned on her heel, not staying to hear their rebuttal. Then a shout caused her to look back. “What!”

  Patrick stood there, trying to pick up Sean. “You said to take him outside.” Both boys collapsed to the floor with uncontained mirth.

  “Oh!” said Gabbie as she retreated to her bedroom. She had gotten exactly twenty-four hours’ consideration from the boys since Jack had carried her home. All day yesterday the boys had practically tiptoed around and spoke in whispers, so as not to disturb Gabbie’s rest. Now it was business as usual. She gave up on the convalescing and took off the big T-shirt she used as night clothing. She paused a moment to regard her nude body in the full-length mirror hung on the door and shuddered. The welts had gone down, but now angry marks, like tiny sunburn blisters, had formed, puffy reminders of some terrible en counter she could not remember. Sighing, she pulled a pair of panties out of the dresser and stepped into them. Dressing in a shirt and jeans, she pulled on her boots, determined to put all this strangeness behind her. Besides, she needed to work the horses.

  Back in the hall, she found that the boys had left, and assumed they were heading out for the afternoon baseball game at the park. Phil and Gloria were up in Buffalo for the day. Phil had been asked to speak at a library luncheon, and Gabbie had almost had to throw a temper tantrum to get him to go. He’d wanted to stay close despite her assurances she was all right. Phil consented to go when Mark agreed to baby-sit the place, so he and Gloria had decided to make a day of it, staying for some shopping, then dinner at the Cloister, which was reputed to be one of the best restaurants in the state.

  Passing the library, she spied Mark sitting behind her dad’s computer and stuck her head through the door. “Hi. How’s it going?”

  Mark looked up and smiled at her, and Gabbie was suddenly struck by the thought that he was a very nice man. She’d spent only a little time with Mark and Gary, more with Gary, for Jack and she would play tennis with Gary and his girlfriend, Ellen. But when she was around Mark, she found him pleasant company.

  He said, “Pretty good. Just about done here, and getting ready to brave the basement tomorrow. How’s it with you?”

  She shrugged. “I’m still bruised. But I’ll live.”

  “That’s good.”

  “What’s with Dad’s computer?”

  “I’m using it to catalog the library. I’ll dump a hard copy for myself, and your dad’ll have these discs to keep. He can update them when he buys or sells something.”

  She shook her head. “I doubt he’ll remember. He likes the word processor, but all the other stuff is from another planet as far as he’s concerned.”

  Mark laughed. “I know. I wrote the program for the catalog.”

  Gabbie lingered at the door, seemingly unable to speak for a while. After a bit, Mark said, “Want to talk about it?”

  “It’s pretty weird.”

  “Weird is my business.” He looked hard at her. “Gabbie, if you don’t want to talk, my feelings won’t be hurt. But if you need an ear, I’ll be more than happy to listen.” He smiled. “And I am a psychologist.”

  “I didn’t know that.” She seemed surprised.

  “Most people don’t. I don’t practice, but I have my Ph.D. in abnormal psychology and a license from the state of New York which says I’m a shrink. That’s how I got into the occult in the first place, investigating weird psychological phenomena. The first book I wrote was on paranormal psychology, and that led to other things in the occult field. I’m sort of distant from when I did my clinical internship, but I still know how to listen.”

  She paused, as if considering what he said. Then at last she said, “Confidentially?”

  “Absolutely.” He punched some keys, saving whatever he was working on, while she went over to a chair. He sat back, the desk separating them, and said nothing.

  After a while she began, “What has me worried is that I don’t remember much. I mean, I’ve heard of people having blocks and the like from trauma, but I don’t feel especially … traumatized,
you know?” He nodded. “But it’s like a … dream. Like when you wake up and almost remember what you dreamed, maybe an image or something, but you can’t remember most of it.”

  “What do you remember?”

  “I remember … hearing something. And I remember … smelling something.”

  “What?”

  “Wildflowers, I think. At least, it smelled like flowers. And it had to be pretty strong for me to smell it in the barn.” She laughed, looking a little embarrassed. “This is pretty stupid, huh?”

  “No, not at all. Smells are pretty basic, stronger than you’d imagine. You can look at a picture of your grandmother, for example, and not remember her, then smell her favorite cologne and trigger vivid memories. It’s common.”

  “Well, I don’t think I’ve smelled anything like this before. It was spicy. I’d have remembered.…” Her voice trailed off and her eyes widened.

  “What?” Mark asked softly.

  Color drained from Gabbie’s face. “I did smell that flower smell before. I … I’m surprised I didn’t remember right away, ’cause that was pretty weird, too.”

  “When?” said Mark, obviously interested.

  “When My Dandelion threw her shoe, on the Fourth of July.” She told him about her encounter with the blacksmith. Mark moved forward, so that his elbows rested upon the desk as she spoke. “That’s so strange. I didn’t remember anything about that until just now. Must have been the flu.”

  “What flu?”

  “I got a bug on the Fourth. Jack found me. He thinks this blacksmith was a hallucination. I don’t. I think he was one of those Amish guys from Cattaraugus. He looked like one, wide hat, suspenders, heavy boots. And he had an accent. He had this old wagon, with a portable forge in back. But it looked … you know, really old, not like the modern ones in the back of trucks. I don’t know how to describe it, really.”

  Mark didn’t say anything; at last Gabbie said, “You know, I was pretty upset with Jack, and I thought that smith was pretty nice. I sort of thought I might like to meet him again, but I guess an Amish guy wouldn’t … I don’t know, date outside his faith? Whatever.”