Ruby Morgan Box Set: Books 6-10

by LJ Rivers

  “She should be sleeping, the little rascal. Kept Hugo and me up until two in the morning. No wonder he didn’t have his mind with him when he staggered out of bed. Thank the Lady for short legs.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

  Tabitha stomped her feet. “These stubs take thrice the time to walk here as it would otherwise, which gives Willow plenty of time to sleep. She loves napping in the pushchair. I guess it’s the combination of the rocking and my singing. Hugo says he’d rather sleep than hear my quavering sonatas.” She threw her head back in laughter.

  How I loved this woman.

  Willow responded with a happy gurgle.

  “I was shocked to see all the flowers,” I said, hating to change the subject.

  “Oh, I wasn’t. Your mum was loved all over the country. What she accomplished by starting this sanctuary was nothing short of a miracle. Magical as they come.”

  I was already proud of Mum’s work. With the help of William’s money, they got the old barn restored and expanded into a fully equipped and functioning clinic. When the Mag-flu hit the country’s Mag population, Mum’s sanctuary became the first haven for sick Mags. And it was here the cure was discovered when Charlie injected William’s blood into our dying flatmate, Jen. Soon, other sanctuaries were opened across the country, and by now there were more than fifty of them.

  “She did leave a legacy,” I said quietly. “Could you come with me, you think? I owe it to all who have left them to take a look at the flowers.”

  “Let’s go,” Tabitha said.

  It was a mountain. No other word could do it justice. After half an hour, I had opened and read maybe ten per cent of the cards. There were so many of them, and from all kinds of people. The first one was from a little girl, Prunella. She was only six years old and had drawn a picture of herself holding hands with a woman with strawberry-blonde hair. Above them, Prunella had drawn a big, red heart. On the opposite page, she had written a greeting in skewed letters.

  Thank you for saving me life I will miss you forever and ever yours truly Prunella

  I held the card to my chest as tears painted my cheeks once more.

  The next card had a more adult feel to it. It had no drawings and only a short greeting written in beautiful, almost calligraphic, handwriting.

  You are in my heart, Elaine and Ruby. Always.

  It was signed by Fiona Andrews. I knew her! She had been trapped at the Camelot Farm, and I remembered talking to her at the sanctuary after we escaped. I’d healed her remaining injuries after Mum had taken care of the life-threatening ones. Her card was leaning on a bouquet of long, green stems, all with dozens of yellow flowers on them.

  “We call these Rosyndiolch,” Tabitha said. “Roses of gratitude might be the closest translation.”

  There were literally thousands of flowers, maybe half of them red roses. But there were orchids, lilies, peonies, tulips and lots of others I couldn’t name. Tabitha could, and in true Goblin tradition, she not only knew all the names but also the meaning behind them. And, as it turned out, quite a few medicinal uses for them.

  “This one, the Canterbury Bell, is well known among bee-keepers,” she said, holding a single blue flower up to my nose. “Smell it.”

  I did, and the sweetest scent of honey filled my nostrils, reminding me even more of Mum.

  “Elaine loved this one,” Tabitha continued, her voice a whisper now, even though we were alone, the three of us. “It’s the main component of her perfume.”

  “Really? I didn’t know that. I mean, I know about that old, blue flask on her dresser. The one with the pump. It stands out between the small selection of labelled ones. I never quite caught what perfume she kept refilling that one with.”

  Tabitha laughed. “Oh, that would be Hawthorne number five.”

  “Huh?”

  “I made her a small amount of it every year. It took me some time to find the right blend of herbs and flowers, but in the end, she told me I had ‘nailed it’. One day, I might show you the recipe.”

  I smelled the Canterbury bellflower once more. “I’d love that.” I waved a hand at the giant, colourful hill of flowers. “I can’t believe this. She touched so many people. I have to thank them all.”

  “I’ll help you, don’t worry. If we all chip in, we should have the cards collected in no time, and then you and I can spend some evenings together writing replies.”

  “I’d like that.”

  When we went back inside and started down the corridor to Hugo’s office, a woman came out of one of the rooms, holding a clipboard to her chest. “Top o’ the morning, Tabbie.”

  “And to you. How is he?”

  “Much the same,” the thirty-something, platinum blonde woman replied. Moira, according to her name tag; Goblin, according to her aura. “Hugo will have him transferred today, poor soul.” She looked at me, her eyes squinting slightly. “Is this—?”

  I held out my hand. “Ruby.”

  “Oh, Lady of Avalon! I’m so sorry for your loss.” She ignored my hand and pulled me into a hug, and again I found myself bending down.

  “Thank you,” I said as she squeezed the air out of me. I had to concentrate to avoid heaving for breath when she finally let go.

  “I’ve only been here a month, but from what I’ve heard, your mother was an absolute angel.”

  Moira might be a Goblin, but she spoke like an upper-class lady.

  Or a duchess.

  “I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “That’s quite all right,” I said. “She was. And who knows, maybe she is?”

  My thoughts wandered back to the pond where I had given Nimue my final wish. It wasn’t to have Mum become an angel, but maybe the Avalonian equivalent, if such a thing existed. During the week since her death, I had begun thinking of her in that way, no matter what did or did not exist. To me, Mum’s soul and spirit were inside me, next to Dad’s. They were my personal angels, Avalonian or not.

  Moira excused herself and disappeared around the corner. Tabitha and I continued, with Willow in the pushchair, babbling and sighing happily. I chose to believe I had a little something to do with the wee bird being in such a good mood.

  Hugo was on the phone, sitting by his desk in his corner of the shared office. Mum’s office. Seeing her desk, and her empty chair, made my feet warn me yet again that they might not be able to keep me upright. It looked like she was only out for a short while, maybe talking to a patient, and that she would soon be back. Her diary lay on the desk, open. Mum hadn’t been computer illiterate, but she didn’t like to have everything digitised. Her diary was her life, she used to say. I staggered over to her chair and fell into it. Week 23 stared at me from the open pages. Monday through Thursday was stuffed with appointments and notes, blue and red ink and a few yellow patches from one of those markers I should have used more in my textbooks at uni.

  In the fourth column, the one for Thursday the 4th of June, Mum had drawn a red heart around an entry. I traced my finger along the red ink and read the entry over and over.

  9:25 – Dep. Chester, plat 2. Euston 12:06.

  “Sorry,” Hugo said. “I know it’s the wrong word, but it is good to see you, Ruby.”

  I turned in my chair and tried to smile. I failed miserably. He was already out of his seat and held his arms out to me. As I stood to greet him, my brain chose this moment to tell me that I had almost spent more time hugging people than not since I came back. I bent down to Hugo’s embrace.

  “I’ll help you,” he said. “We all will.”

  “We’s all here for you, child.” Tabitha had taken Willow out of the pushchair and sat with her daughter in her lap on one of the chairs by the small coffee table.

  I had no voice to respond with, so I just nodded.

  Hugo wasn’t a hugger like his wife, and this might have been the second or third I had ever got from him. Maybe that was why it felt so comforting, even though it lasted only
three seconds. He let go and sat back down, his cheeks slightly pink.

  He cleared his throat. “Right, uhm, I’ve made a list. Things we have to consider, and some we have to decide rather quickly.”

  I sat, too, and took the sheet of paper he handed me. I scanned it, counting about twenty bullet points, most of which had the letter ‘H’ next to them. A few said ‘R’ and there were two with ‘T’ as well.

  “The main issue is how much you want to be involved in running the clinic,” he said. “Sorry, the sanctuary.”

  Mum had told me how Hugo never took to the term. Not because he disagreed with it, but maybe because his own clinic had been such a major part of his life. And, to be fair, most of the work he did at both places was identical.

  “I haven’t thought about it too much,” I said, “but then again, I can’t really see myself moving back here to run it. I have a different plan for my life, and it involves a few more years of studying journalism.”

  He nodded and glanced at Tabitha, a smile playing on his lips. “We figured that was what you would want. So, with that in mind, I have a suggestion.” He gestured at the phone on his desk. “That was my good friend, Dr Crawford.”

  “Ainsley. We’ve met a few times. I met him last after the attack on Millicent Glover’s headquarters. He let me get access to an injured friend.”

  Hugo nodded again. “He told me how you healed the young man only partially the first day. Smart.”

  I shrugged. “I have my moments.”

  “Ainsley has agreed to come here and help run the place for a few months, should you wish it so.”

  “That sounds fine,” I said, “but what happens after, when he returns to London?”

  “A few months is all I need.” Hugo displayed his crooked teeth in a wide grin. “I’s been talking to Tabbie, and we would love to take over the sanctuary from you. Not legally, of course. It will still be yours, although you shouldn’t expect to make any money from it.”

  I shook my head. “I know about the financial model,” I said. “Mum told me about her commitment to making it a non-profit venture. Something about channelling any profits to Mag-related organisations.”

  “Indeed she did. She’s done a remarkable job securing sponsorships and contributions from donors, which has enabled us to keep this a very low-cost option for our visitors. It’s basically equal to the NHS, with the minor additions of the odd healing potion or maybe a hands-on by a Fae.”

  “But what about your own clinic? Surely you can’t—”

  He waved me off. “Oh, but that’s exactly what I can. And I will if you allow me. Running this place would be the highest honour of my life, apart from this one allowing me to marry her, of course.”

  “Oh, stop it, ya old gnome.” Tabitha chuckled. Willow looked at her mother and made a sound very close to a laugh as well.

  “So, what do you say, Miss Morgan?” Hugo took my hand. “Not that you have to decide ri—”

  “Yes! By the Lady, yes!” What was there to think about, really?

  Tabitha clapped her hands excitedly.

  Willow flinched at her mother’s reaction, and her lower lip started to tremble. In an instant, the little Phoenix was sobbing and wailing as only a four-month-old could.

  “I would love for you to take over this place, and Mum would be just as happy. And proud.”

  Hugo slapped his thighs and stood again, and before I had a chance to react, he had pulled me into another hug—this one lasted at least five seconds.

  When he let me go, Tabitha came to me, too. She had Willow in her arms, so she just grabbed my collar and pulled me down to kiss me on the cheek. Willow grabbed my hair, still crying her little heart out.

  “Come here, you,” I said, and Tabitha let me take her. “It’s all right, wee bird.” I touched the tip of her nose. Willow instantly stopped sobbing, and after a few sighs and gasps fell quiet, still clutching my hair. Her eyes delved into mine, and the tiny white dot on her upper gum glistened as she smiled.

  “Can I take her for a walk, Tabbie? I need some air.”

  “That you can, luv. If she falls asleep, just let her. She’s got a little catching up to do.”

  I put Willow back in the pushchair and lay the pink wrap gently over her. She kicked it off, grinning at me as if to tell me how proud she was at her accomplishment.

  “Thank you again, both of you. I’ll have a look at the rest of the list later, Hugo, if that’s OK with you?”

  “All in good time, Ruby. I shall get back to Ainsley immediately and get things rolling. I believe I have a clinic to put on the market, too.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I can’t even begin to grasp what that entails. Are you sure you want—?”

  “As sure as I’ve ever been about anything. Well, except this one, of course.” He tilted his thumb at Tabitha once more.

  “You’s really on fire today,” she said.

  “That’s our cue, wee bird,” I giggled and pushed her out in the hallway.

  Chapter Three

  “That’s all right, my dear, I see her now. You just go on doing whatever splendid work you’re doing.”

  I knew that voice so well. I just didn’t want to talk with anyone right now. But Mrs Wellington had already spotted me and was headed my way—another pair of outstretched arms.

  “Ruby, my sweet child. My deepest condolences.”

  “Thank you, Mrs Wellington.”

  She plucked lint from the sleeve on my jumper. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m holding up,” I lied. “Just going to get some air, and I stole little Willow from Tabitha.”

  Lucinda accompanied me to the lobby where Moira was talking to a thirty-something man by the desk.

  “Anything you need, Miss Morgan?” Moira asked.

  “Miss Morgan?” the man exclaimed and turned around. “Ruby Morgan?”

  Taken aback by both Moira’s formal tone and the man’s enthusiasm, all I could manage was a puzzled “Yes.”

  He approached me and grabbed my hand. “Please accept my condolences, Miss Morgan. I never got to meet your mother, but without her efforts—” He motioned with his hand. “This place saved my life. Her name will live forever in my heart, and in the hearts of Mags all over the country.”

  “Thank you.” I couldn’t help staring at his eyes. They were dark brown, with a thin, shiny circle of blue in the centre. It was like staring at two miniature eclipses hiding a blue sun.

  “—minutes ago.”

  I snapped out of the eclipse analogy. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  “Mrs MacNamara has just discharged me, so I’m no longer a patient.” He was still holding my hand, and now he looked down at it. “Oh, sorry.” He let go. “Peace.”

  I tilted my head at him. “Uhm, sure. Peace to you, too.”

  “No, my name is Peace. Nathaniel Peace. Nate to my friends. And hopefully to the daughter of Elaine Morgan.”

  “Nate, then. What brought you here, if I may ask?”

  “Magic, ironically. A few mates and I were out hiking and fishing, down in Snowdonia. One night, our camp was attacked by a mob of Mags. There were two Sorcerers and a bunch of Shifters—two or three wolves, a bear and a couple of friggin’ panthers, would you believe? I got my main artery ripped by the fangs of a wolf.”

  Lucinda gasped.

  “That’s terrible,” I said. “To my knowledge, there haven’t been many cases of predatory Shifters actually hunting people.”

  “They weren’t hunting as such. We tried to defend ourselves, but I’m only a low-percentage Time Turner, and there’s not much I can do about a whole army of Mags. I can slow time for about fifteen seconds at most, and then only at a radius of maybe ten feet. Not even a party trick, let alone a weapon against a wolf.”

  “I can see that. How did you get away? And how did you get here with a torn artery?”

  Furrows gathered on Nate’s forehead, and he swallowed hard. “It all happened so fast, so I’m a bit unsure of all th
e details. But they took Leigh. The Sorcerers conjured a wall of fire so we couldn’t follow them. Not that any of us were able to, though. I just wish we were hunting instead. Somehow a shotgun makes for a better threat against wild animals than a fly-fishing rod.”

  “What do you mean, they ‘took’ Leigh?”

  “They ran away with him. Guess they had someplace they could eat him without being disturbed.” He held his head up high, but was struggling hard not to cry. “Police have no clue as to where or who. There’s another great use for Sorcerer’s fire. Funny how a violent forest fire leaves no traces of any Shifters.”

  “That’s who started the fire?” Lucinda cupped her hands on her cheeks. “I’ve seen it on the news. Burned down three cabins and a small farm already. Still raging on, that fire.”

  Nate nodded. “When they left, we got in our cars. I was the only one seriously injured. It was touch and go, but Manfred drove like Lewis Hamilton and got me here in time.”

  “I’m glad he did,” I said. “But so sad about your friend, Leigh. What are the coppers doing to find him?”

  Shrugging, he raked his hand through his dark brown hair, and for a second I almost expected to see some strands of blue, to match his captivating eyes. I caught myself thinking he was quite handsome, and that I had been wrong about his age. He might not even have passed thirty.

  “There’s really not much they can do,” he said. “It pisses me off, but it’s not the police’s fault. I was there, and I can only describe the attackers as a pack of animals with two black-clad, hooded Sorcerers. Well, that, and the only words the Mags said to Leigh before they captured him. ‘May Nimmu wash her hands of your ailments’ or something. Whatever that means. It was such a bizarre thing to say, given the situation. Anyway, the Sorcerers were only there to set the whole place on fire after the animals had done their thing.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said. “Mags attacking Mags?”

  “We’re not all Mags,” Nate said. “There were only three of us, and four humans. Including Leigh.”