Melee

by Kristy Tate

  Lizbet groaned. The thought of getting back on the bike depressed her. “Do you think they sell clothes anywhere?”

  Declan motioned to the three taverns on the two blocks of Main Street. “I’m guessing they sell mostly beer. But I wouldn’t know since I don’t have a wallet and my call to you depleted my funds making my wardrobe a moot point.”

  “Let me get you some clothes and something to eat.”

  He nodded at the park across the street. “I’ll hide out over there in case Mike comes looking for his duds.”

  Lizbet pulled open the glass doors of Donna’s One Stop Shop. A large woman with arms the size of Lizbet’s thighs sat at the counter reading a magazine. She glanced up when a jingling bell announced Lizbet’s arrival.

  “Anything I can help you find, darlin’?”

  Lizbet glanced around the crowded store. A clothes rack lined the back wall. A refrigerator case ran along the side. The store was so small Lizbet felt sure she’d find everything she never wanted in minutes. “I’d rather look on my own, thanks,” she told the woman.

  “Suit yourself,” the woman said, and she bent back over her magazine.

  Lizbet rifled through the clothes and tried to sort her thoughts. What had Declan been so anxious for her to see? Curiosity and impatience hurried her.

  A few minutes later, Lizbet left Donna’s with a brown paper bag carrying some donuts, apples, a liter of orange juice, a pair of running shorts, a T-shirt that read I love unicorns and a pair of red, white, and blue flip-flops.

  Declan peeked in the bag. “Unicorns? Really?”

  “It was better than the other options.”

  He cocked an eyebrow.

  “You’ll just have to trust me.”

  He rolled his eyes and disappeared into a public restroom. Moments later, he emerged wearing the clothes. “I feel ridiculous.”

  “But at least no one will mistake you for Mike and ask you to fix their muffler.”

  “There’s that.”

  “What did you want to show me?”

  He motioned to her bike. “You okay if I drive?”

  “That would be good.” And she handed him the key.

  THE CEMETERY WAS ABOUT a mile from town on a dirt road that led to an abandoned barn. Declan knew this because he’d first taken the road to the dead end before turning around. He felt lucky that he’d found Harleson and not followed the road into the thick of the Cascade Mountains.

  He rolled the bike up to the stone wall surrounding the gravestones and pointed. “Stehekin is not only a place—it’s a family name.”

  Lizbet got off the bike and headed for the tombstones like a person magnetized. She dropped to her knees and used the end of her shirt to wipe one marker clean.

  Malki our brother, kind and mild,

  Was loved by folks and the wild,

  The moon, stars, and sun loved him best

  Malki spoke to the wind, both east and west.

  “I wonder what it means?” Declan asked as he opened the brown bag from Donna’s and pulled out the donut.

  Lizbet didn’t answer, but got to her feet and went to another marker with an inscription.

  Helda spoke to all loving beings

  Trees, plants, flowers and things

  And creatures conversed in kind,

  Wind, sun, rocks and mind.

  “Can these people be your family?” Declan asked right before polishing off the last bit of donut. He wiped his sticky fingers on the dew-damp grass.

  “Do you think they’re Ollos Verdes?”

  “The who?”

  “Didn’t I tell you about that legend?” Lizbet asked. “Matias and Maria’s mawmaw told it to me.”

  “You may have, but remind me.”

  Lizbet tried to remember everything Mawmaw had told her about the Ollos Verdes. “A long time ago, the world was made of two equal parts. Animals lived in the water and people lived in a sky full of fertile fields, soaring mountains, and flower-filled valleys. One day, a Sky Child grew weary and fell asleep beneath the spreading branches of an apple tree. She slipped down a hole. Frightened, she wrapped her arms around the tree and it too fell through the sky.

  “She called for help and fortunately for her, two swans were swimming in the water-world below. They rose to save her. Spreading their wings, they formed a soft nest for the girl to lie upon. ‘What can I do now?’ the girl asked. ‘Can you return me to the sky world?’

  “But the birds were frightened to fly so close to the sun. ‘We’ll take you to Big Turtle,’ said one swan. ‘He knows everything,’ said the other.

  “Big Turtle listened to the girl’s story of a world with fertile land, tall mountains, and flower-filled fields.

  “’If we can get some soil, we can create our own earth of land, sky, and water,’ Big Turtle said.

  “’But where can we find the soil?’ Swan asked.

  “’Tis below the water,’ Big Turtle told them. ‘We must dig deep.’

  “Otter, Beaver, and Muskrat argued over who would go.

  “’I’m the fastest,’ said Otter.

  “’But I’m the strongest,’ said Beaver.

  “’But I can swim the farthest,’ said Muskrat.

  “A little toad popped out of the water. ‘I’ll go. I can dive very deep.’

  “The other animals laughed and mocked.

  “’You’re too small,’ said Beaver.

  “’You’re too ugly,’ said Otter.

  “’You’re too slow,’ said Muskrat.

  “’Hush!’ Big Turtle said in a loud voice. ‘We are all equal, and we’re all able to do our best. We will need the efforts of all.’

  “The vain Otter smoothed his glossy fur, took a deep breath, and disappeared into the water. Beaver slapped his tail against the water before diving in. Muskrat followed. One by one they returned, gasping for air.

  “’It’s too deep,’ said Otter.

  “’It’s too dark,’ said Beaver.

  “’No one can dive so deep,’ said Muskrat.

  “’I will go,’ said Toad, before she sucked in a deep breath and disappeared beneath a wave.

  “’We will never see her again,’ said Otter.

  “’She will die from bravery,’ said Beaver.

  “’She will surely drown,’ said Muskrat.

  “Moments later, Swan pointed at bubbles breaking the water’s surface. Toad’s ugly face appeared. She spat a mouthful of soil onto Big Turtle’s back before sinking to the bottom of the sea.

  “Big Turtle commanded all the creatures to rub the soil into his shell. The seeds of grain sprouted and grew and grew until a large island was formed. It grew into the world as we know it today.

  “Eventually, the sky people noticed and grew envious. More and more fell from the hole in the sky to join our world. But only the descendants of the first Sky Child are the Earth’s people. They are the Ollos Verdes—the green-eyed ones. Only they can converse with the Earth and its creations.”

  “I bet you’re one of the Ollos Verdes,” Declan said.

  “I don’t know,” she said slowly. “I wonder how I knew the answer had something to do with Stehekin.”

  Declan sat down on the stone wall and watched the entranced Lizbet move around the cemetery. “I’ve been thinking about that. Have you ever heard of genetic memory?”

  She shook her head without looking at him and kept her gaze on the tombstones. She touched them with reverence and studied them as if they had something more to tell her than names and dates.

  “It’s the theory that we inherit memories, talents, and skills in our DNA from our ancestors.”

  She tore her attention away from the tombstones to shoot him a quick glance. “That doesn’t sound like something you would believe in.”

  “Recently, I believe in a lot of things I didn’t used to. It’s amazing how a little thing like becoming a werewolf can make you open-minded.”

  She turned to him. “You didn’t kill Jason Norbit.”

&nbs
p; Declan swallowed hard and studied his hands. He wanted to believe that so badly, but he couldn’t. Not without some sort of proof.

  “Did you know Malcolm Abbot?” Lizbet asked.

  “I know Malcolm. Quiet kid. Small. Played on the chess team.”

  “Did you know he was arrested for Jason’s murder?”

  Declan shook his head, listening in disbelief while Lizbet told him what she’d read in the paper.

  “You couldn’t have had anything to do with his escape because you were here.”

  He opened his mouth to argue.

  She cut him off. “If you were on the security video, the police would be looking for you.”

  “Not if I looked like a wolf.”

  She sat down close enough for their thighs to touch. “You were here—or were on your way here. You couldn’t have had anything to do with Malcolm’s escape or the deputy’s death.”

  He hung his head, still feeling helpless and hopeless.

  “It’s disappointing the meat concoction didn’t work,” Lizbet said.

  “We don’t know whether I ate it or not,” Declan said.

  “Yes, we do.”

  “The mouse?” he guessed.

  Lizbet nodded.

  Declan put his hand over the unicorn on his belly. “I really ate raw hamburger?”

  “And silver dust.”

  Declan felt ill, and it didn’t have anything to do with the dry donut he’d just eaten.

  Lizbet bounced to her feet and went to kneel beside a stone partially covered by ivy and tall grass. She brushed the plants away to read the inscription to him.

  “Winds that blow sweeter songs,

  Carry seeds and right the wrongs.”

  A chill passed over Declan as a cold wind picked up and tossed leaves and twigs into the air.

  “Lizbet.”

  “What?” She remained in front of the tombstone, pulling the ivy vines away and breaking off the shoots of grass.

  She hadn’t noticed.

  “The wind. You called the wind.”

  She twisted around to smile at him. “Don’t be silly.”

  Declan held up his hand to test the breeze. “I’m not being silly. Two seconds ago, the air was hot and still. You read that, and now there’s wind.” He strode to the closest grave, wishing it could speak in more than rhymes.

  Lizbet pushed back her hair and frowned at him. “I can communicate with animals. It’s not that remarkable. People everywhere do. The difference is, I stop to listen to what they have to say.”

  Declan knelt beside her and took her face in his hands. “You don’t think it’s remarkable because you’re used to it. I’m telling you, I don’t know anyone else—other than Dr. Doolittle, who was fictional, by the way—who can do what you do. So, yes, you’re remarkable.”

  She pulled away and fell onto her butt. “I think everyone is capable of communicating with animals. It’s just most people don’t take the time to learn their language because they don’t think it’s even a possibility. Growing up in isolation like I did forced me to reach out to them.”

  “No. That’s not it. You are amazing.” He nodded at the tombstone. “Try the rain one.”

  “Why?”

  “I want to see if you can summon the rain. Imagine all the good you could do if you could make it rain in countries suffering from droughts.”

  She shook her head. “I wouldn’t want that kind of power.”

  “Why not? Think of the countries dependent on agricultural—”

  “What if I make it rain, but then I can’t make it stop? What if—”

  He cut her off. “Just try it.”

  “I’m afraid.”

  “See? This is exactly why you have the ability.”

  “I don’t have special abilities.”

  “Yes, you do. And the reason you have them is because they humble you. Someone else might be motivated to use them for greed or gain or vengeance. But not you. You’re so good you—”

  She placed her fingers on his lips. “Stop it. I’m not who you think I am.”

  He grabbed her wrist. “You don’t even know how amazing you are.” They stared at each other. “Just read that.” He nodded at the tombstone.

  “If I read it, will you stop this? Can we go?” She glanced up at the clouds gathering on the horizon. The wind tugged at her curls. “We need to leave. Riding in the rain is miserable.”

  “Sure. We’ll go as soon as you read that.” He pulled the ivy away from the grave and ripped out the tall blades of grass in the way. He’d promised they’d leave as soon as she’d summoned the rain, but now that he knew there was a stanza about lightning, he really wanted her to do that one, too.

  She sighed before she started.

  “Weeping rain to cleanse the earth,

  Bring us life, a new rebirth.”

  A few raindrops fell.

  She stood and brushed off her jeans. “This means nothing. The rainclouds have been gathering all morning.”

  “And they just happened to fall after you read the tombstone!” He held out his hand. “Give me your phone.”

  “What for?”

  “We need to take a picture of this. It could come in useful.”

  She pulled her phone out of her pocket and handed it to him. “I’m going along with this not because I think I had anything to do with the weather, but because I want to capture these names. Maybe I can look them up on some sort of genealogical site.”

  He grinned. “Good plan.” He took a quick photo of all the gravesites before returning the phone to Lizbet. Hope, something that had disappeared the moment he learned he was a werewolf, started to seep back in. If Lizbet could control the weather, maybe he could control being a werewolf. Maybe his future wasn’t as bleak as he thought.

  If fairies actually exist as invisible beings or intelligences, and our investigations lead us to the tentative hypothesis that they do, they are natural and not supernatural, for nothing which exists can be supernatural.

  Walter Evans-Wentz

  From Lizbet’s Studies

  CHAPTER 7

  The next morning, Gloria set down her coffee mug and studied her son. “Declan, we need to talk.”

  Declan glanced outside at the midmorning sun. The moon had passed. He’d slept through the night in his own bed. It was going to be a good day. Even if he did hate days that began with “we need to talk.” Because conversations that began with “we need to talk” were typically to be avoided.

  “As you know, your dad and I don’t always see eye to eye on everything, but right now, we agree on this.”

  Great. He hated it when his parents colluded. Declan poured himself a cup of coffee, but kept his back to his mom so she wouldn’t see him if he decided he needed an eye-roll.

  “Your recent behavior is scaring me. You’ve disappeared for nights on end.”

  Declan set his mug on the table before helping himself to a bowl of Captain Crunchies.

  “Now, I understand that if you’d been able to follow your original plan, you would have been leaving for Duke and living on your own. And honestly, I think I would have preferred that to your unhealthy obsession with Lizbet.”

  “I haven’t been staying with Lizbet.”

  “That’s what your dad said, because I guess that’s what her mom told him.”

  Declan poised his spoon above his cereal bowl. “What do you mean you ‘guess that’s what her mom told him’?”

  “Well, she could be covering for Lizbet...”

  Declan hunched his shoulders and returned to eating his cereal. “You think her mom is lying? For me?”

  “And her daughter.” Gloria swallowed her coffee before returning her mug to the table. “But frankly, as much as I hate the idea of you and Lizbet setting up house together, I find the other explanation—the one John gave me—twice as abhorrent.”

  “And that is?”

  “You’re staying at Godwin’s house? How could you be so stupid? You know he’s dangerous.”
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  Declan thought about pointing out that his mom had been the one to marry him.

  “That behavior stopped yesterday! I changed the locks.” She peered at him over the rim of her coffee mug. “But I suspect you already know that, seeing as how you stayed the night here.”

  Declan pushed away his cereal bowl. “Mom, do you want to put a tracking device on me?”

  “No! You know I love having you here.” She covered his hand with her left hand. “If I’m honest, I’m mad at myself about that.”

  “Mom...”

  “I am. You don’t need to stay here. I’m coping fine.”

  “You know my being here isn’t just about you, right?” Declan lied. Since the accident that had nearly severed her right hand, his mom had been forced to learn how to be left-handed. This meant that she had most of her purchases, including groceries and meals, delivered. Still, because she found feeding herself awkward, she’d lost a lot of weight. She rarely bathed, showered or left the house. In a more introverted person, this probably would have been okay, but for his A-personality mom, this hermit lifestyle was skirting the edges of scary. “There’s also the winery.”

  Gloria blew out a breath. “We should sell that.”

  Declan shook his head, thinking about Matias’s mawmaw’s amazing wine. If he could somehow get a hold of that recipe...The blackberry wine from his grandfather’s winery was close, but it lacked the magic. If only he could bottle the magic...

  “I thought you wanted to be a doctor,” his mom said.

  “I do.”

  “You have school—you don’t have time to run a business.”

  He slid her glance. “Should I ask Holbrook St. James to hire someone to oversee it?”

  She flushed a pretty pink and hid her face behind her coffee mug. “That’s a good plan.”

  “He twisted his hand beneath hers so he could entwine their fingers. “I love you, Mom.”

  She blinked back tears. “I love you, too. I just don’t want to see you throwing away your future.”

  “Lizbet is my future.”

  “Maybe, but maybe not. And even if she is a part of it, she can’t be your entire life.”