by Gina LaManna
“Unfortunately, it’s time for me to go,” he said, closing the cupboard on the last of the clean dishes. “I’m sorry to leave you here tonight. If you want me to stay, maybe—”
“No, go.” I put my hands on his chest. “This is what I was talking about. I don’t want us to change your work. You have your work, and I have mine.”
“The Companion will stand guard through the night. You’ll be safe, I promise.”
“I wasn’t worried.” I grinned. “I can take care of myself.”
X laughed, his eyes sparkling as they met mine. “Yes, I have no doubt. On the same subject, his contract terminates when I say, so don’t bother to argue with him. Companions never break a contract.”
“Does he have a name?”
“I’m sure he has one, but we don’t use it,” Ranger X said. “Like the Rangers, Companions are tools. They are disposable, as are the rest of the Rangers. Trust me, it doesn’t help to become friends. This is his job and nothing more.”
“I’m sorry.” I flinched under his sharp tone. “I didn’t know.”
He wrapped me in an embrace, his hands stroking through my hair. “I didn’t mean to sound harsh. If I did, it’s only because I worry about you. You’re trusting and kind, two qualities I adore in you. Unfortunately, they can also get you in trouble.”
I frowned. “I just asked his name, it wasn’t a big deal.”
“Not yet, but the next thing I know you’ll be inviting him in for a Caffeine Cup, asking if he wants a bit of shut-eye on the couch.” Ranger X shook his head. “We can’t have that. The rules are firm for the Ranger program.”
“The rules aren’t so firm between you and me,” I said with a coy smile and a bat of my eyelashes. “Lucky thing, huh?”
A smile crossed his face. “You have a point, Miss Locke, and I’m still wondering how that happened.”
I did some spirit fingers. “Magic?”
He hooked a hand over my shoulder, pecked me goodbye, and took a few steps toward the door. “Lily, promise me one thing. Stay put tonight. Please.”
“I thought the Companion was going to watch over me.”
“Yes, but you’re too smart for your own good.”
I laughed and then curtseyed.
“You’re dodging my question,” Ranger X said, his eyes following my curtsey. “I want to hear you promise.”
“I’m not going to sneak out my bedroom window and go traipsing across The Isle,” I said. “Are you happy?”
He didn’t look happy, but the Comm device on his wrist buzzed, and his business face took over again. Bidding me good night, he gave me one long, lingering look before he vanished into the darkness.
His absence was heavy. I stood for a moment, wishing he’d stayed longer. Wishing that he wasn’t in charge of solving all the terrible, mysterious happenings on the island.
I turned to shut the lights off in the bar, telling myself to get a grip, when something brushed against my ankles. I yelped, jumping half a foot into the air.
The Companion came bursting through the front door, his eyes on high alert as he scanned me for injury. “Everything okay?” He surveyed the bar area, saw I was alive and breathing, and his shoulders relaxed at the sight of my smiling face. “I thought I heard something.”
“Sorry,” I said, caught in a stare-down with a brilliantly orange feline winding its way around my legs. “I didn’t see this guy, and he caught me off guard.”
“Do you want me to dispose of the creature for you?”
“What? No! It’s just a cat.” I waved him away. “Thanks for checking on me, but everything is fine. He’s mine.”
The Companion returned to his post as I surveyed the cat, wondering where he’d come from. I bent over to scratch his ears, sucking in a breath of surprise at the sight of a paper slip tied to his neck. I spread the small note on the bar before me, smoothing it with my palm.
On it were handwritten words.
Meet Tiger—tonight.
I frowned. Tiger—tonight?
“Is your name Tiger?” I asked the cat. “Does someone want me to adopt you?”
The cat mewed, but it didn’t speak back. I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I was disappointed all the same.
“So you’re just a regular old cat, aren’t you?”
The cat looked up at me with his bright gray eyes. I scratched his neck some more.
“Are you going to stick around here?” I asked the cat. “You can be my guardian kitty. Hettie has a tiger, and I have a…oh.”
It hit me all at once. The note was from Hettie, a secret code of sorts. Both she and Gus had been particularly cryptic about this evening, telling me to keep an eye out… for Tiger. If I was correct in my assumption, then Hettie wanted a meeting with The Core—tonight.
CHAPTER 8
“Here you go, buddy,” I said, placing a dish of milk on the floor. “You know, when Hettie told me she had a guard tiger, I never expected you to be so cute.”
Tiger glared at me. Like Ranger X, he probably didn’t appreciate being called cute. Men.
“Fine, I will leave you alone. As it turns out, I have someplace to be this evening.” I made sure there was enough milk and food for the cat, and then climbed the stairs to my bedroom, my gut churning.
I wished, not for the first time, that the group meant to save The Isle didn’t require me to keep my boyfriend in the dark about its existence. I’d promised that I wouldn’t leave tonight, and now I’d have to break that promise. Although it was for a good cause, the deception didn’t sit well in my stomach. Maybe tonight I could convince Hettie that it was time to bring Ranger X on board.
I changed into more sensible clothes—a pair of black jeans and a dark gray sweater—and debated my exit strategy. When I’d promised Ranger X that I wouldn’t climb out my bedroom window, I’d left myself a teensy-tiny loophole—and climbed out the kitchen window instead.
I expected it to be harder to get away from the Companion, but as it turned out, Tiger was there to help. The Companion reached over to pet the kitty, and I bid him goodnight, pretending to retire to my room. Instead of climbing the stairs, I veered toward the bar. I slipped out of my Comm device, leaving it on the table. This meeting was private, personal, and I didn’t need interruptions.
I’d also promised Ranger X that I wouldn’t traipse across The Isle. So instead of traipsing, I strolled. Quickly. Keeping to the main path, I remained on high alert, winding my way across the moonlit beaches. Waves tossed and turned as if the very atoms of the water could sense the unrest. Even the palm trees, normally so bright and sunny, were skeletons against the stars.
The Isle was split in two sections by a channel bubbling with clear blue water, filled with vibrantly colored fish, sea creatures, and jungles of cattails. The only crossing points were two bridges—the more commonly used Lower Bridge, which was where I headed now, and the far more dangerous Upper Bridge used mostly by Rangers.
I headed somewhere between the two, keeping to the West side of The Isle. Hettie’s enchanted labyrinth, her pride and joy, sat closer to The Forest than was probably safe. Then again, most of the creatures were probably more afraid of Hettie than she was of them.
I reached the outskirts of The Twist, its vibrant branches bursting with fruits and laden with flowers, spiraling every which way. As I stepped underneath a trellis of sweet-scented roses, I was confident that my West Isle Witch blood would lead me through the ever-changing path without incidence.
The first few minutes passed quickly, the scenery familiar. However, after swatting aside leaves the color of roasted pumpkin, I came face to face with a brand new clearing. I whirled around, wondering how I could’ve made a wrong turn, when a voice spoke, the words falling from the sky.
“Finally!” Hettie called. “I thought I made it crystal clear we were meeting at the treehouse. I’ve been waiting for twenty minutes, girlfriend. Did Tiger get lost?”
I tilted my gaze upward, following the outline of a thick tr
ee trunk. There in the treetop perched a miniature house made from all sorts of recycled materials. Two by fours, blankets, ropes, pots and pans, and random kitchen utensils—all of it mashed together to create a grand fort, the likes of which might be found deep in Narnia.
“Climb aboard, girlie,” Hettie called. “We don’t have much time. You’ve got to make it back before that man of yours is done with his duties for the night.”
“How do you expect me to get up there?” I scanned the trunk, but there was nothing remotely resembling a ladder. “We have longer than you think. Ranger X will be gone most of the night on business, and he left a Companion to watch over the bungalow.”
“That doesn’t matter, he’s always suspicious,” Hettie said, tinkering with something in the canopy of leaves. “It’s in his buns.”
“Excuse me?”
“Oh, did I say in his buns?” She fanned herself. “I meant his bones.”
“Sure you did.” I crossed my arms and took a step back. “I still don’t know how you expect me to climb up there. Unfortunately, Gus hasn’t gotten to the potions on flying yet.”
“Don’t be silly, you can’t fly.” Hettie pulled her head back, disappearing somewhere in the inner workings of her fort. There were a few scuffling noises, some creative language, and the next thing I knew, she was back. “Catch,” she said, about thirty seconds too late.
By the time she called catch, a huge bundle of ropes had already hit me in the head. The sound made a thunk against my skull, and I crumpled to the ground.
“Sorry,” Hettie said. “But you should really be aware of your surroundings these days. Not my fault you were daydreaming.”
I pulled myself back onto my feet, holding the ladder straight.
“Come on already, I’m getting old just watching you.”
Sucking in a breath of air, I shimmied up the rope ladder as fast as I could. My foot got stuck, my hair blew in every direction, and my palms burned against the rope. But I made it to the top without breaking any of my limbs.
“So?” Hettie raised her hand and bounced her hip a few times. She was dancing to some music I couldn’t hear and looking thrilled about it. “What do you think?”
I turned in a slow circle, looking around the tree fort. Even though I was annoyed at my grandmother for whacking me in the face with a rope, I couldn’t deny the awesomeness of the place. “Did you make this by yourself?”
“No, your grandfather was the mastermind.” Hettie spoke with an undercurrent of happiness, a warm tone I’d never heard her use before. “He built it for me to escape from the kids.”
“The kids?” I stifled a laugh. “Mimsey and Trinket and my mother?”
“Mimsey and Trinket and Delilah,” she echoed softly, one of the rare occasions on which she spoke my mother’s name. Then her smile returned, and she shook her head good-naturedly. “They gave me headaches. If they try to tell you they didn’t cause me any trouble, they’re lying.”
“Huh. I wonder where they got that trait from,” I mumbled, turning away so Hettie couldn’t catch the words. “This is incredible; I love it here.”
From the bottom, the fort’s floor had looked like a flimsy wooden panel fashioned into a rickety platform. My first impression couldn’t have been further from the truth.
The treehouse had been built by someone who’d never lost the imagination of a child. Burrowed into the expansive canopy, the setup expanded along dozens of branches. It was larger than the storeroom in the bungalow, lined with trinkets and knickknacks on every available surface. Like The Little Mermaid’s collection of goodies, except this version lived in the sky.
Different platforms at different heights made for a split-level house. One of the platforms had been used for something that looked like a book nook—fluffy white blankets, fat pink pillows, piles and piles of warm things that would make for the most perfect cozy evening.
There were also the workings of a kitchen, minus the obvious appliances. A small, handmade cupboard held things like bottles of water, cans of juice, and wine. Lots and lots of wine.
The other platforms were just as unique, just as incredible. A rope swing sat high above the ground, while a hammock dangled across the center. A more formal dining area sat on the highest platform, the treetop opening so the starlight spilled onto the table and surrounded us in a hazy glow.
“I think I could live here,” I said, turning to Hettie. “Nope, scratch that. I know I could. Have you told anyone else about your secret hideaway?”
She shook her head. “Until now, it’s been a secret between your grandfather and me. If I’d told the girls about it, they would’ve never left me alone. Even now, they’d ruin the peace and quiet. Can you imagine Mimsey puttering around up here?”
“Yeah, but it’s a sin to keep this place a secret.”
“Of course it isn’t. If I hadn’t kept it a secret, we wouldn’t have a secure meeting room for The Core.”
I made myself comfortable on a pillow that was placed around the rugged excuse for a dining room table. “Are we waiting for someone else?”
“Yes, of course,” she said. “Didn’t you get the message?”
“From Tiger? Yeah, but it was pretty cryptic.”
“We’re waiting on The Core, Lily. That includes Gus and Harpin.”
“Does Harpin have to come?” I despised the man more than I’d ever thought it possible to dislike another person. “I don’t understand why he’s in the group in the first place. He’s nothing but trouble.”
“It’s not for you to understand.” Hettie’s gaze landed firmly on me. “If you’d like to continue participating in The Core, you need to be a team player.”
“I’ll be a team player with anybody on this island except him. With anyone in the world except him.” I had a sudden thought. “And anyway, it’s not too late to kick him out. He doesn’t know that you head the group—only Gus and I were there when you explained everything. To him, you’re still anonymous. We could meet without him, and he’d never know.”
“My decision is final,” Hettie said. “And Lily, I expect you to trust me, even if you don’t understand. We’re all each other has. As for my identity as head of The Core—I revealed it to him shortly after I explained things to you. It was only fair.”
“I trust you, I don’t trust him,” I grumbled.
“I knew my ears were tingling. You can’t be talking about me now, can you?” Harpin alighted on the platform behind me. The rope swung ever so subtly from a nearby branch, and I wondered if Hettie had sent Tiger to guide him through The Twist. “How unfortunate. After all, Lily, as your grandmother said… I’m all you have.”
“You are not.” My fists clenched as I leaped to my feet. The hairs on the back of my neck rose at the sound of his slithering voice. “If it weren’t for Hettie, I’d never speak to you again.”
“I’ve noticed.” Harpin wore his Cretan robes, a band of bright fabric around the top of the hood. “You haven’t been by the tea shop to visit. I’d give you a discount because of our… relationship.”
“No need,” I said dryly. “I have no interest in your hokey tea leaves.”
A flash of anger sizzled in his eyes, but he refrained from commenting and merely adjusted his robes. “Thank you for hosting, Hettie.”
I sat back down, my gaze burning holes in the man’s forehead. Harpin and Gus had graduated from the same, somewhat controversial, school for wizardry. Whether that had anything to do with Harpin’s seat in The Core or not, I couldn’t say. Neither of the men talked about their past.
Hettie handled the situation by ignoring it completely. “Speaking of tea, who wants some?”
I raised a hand and Harpin nodded.
Hettie hung a teapot from a spindly branch. Underneath sat a small tealight candle. She lit the magically enhanced wick by snapping her fingers and tossing a ball of blue light onto it. When the pot was situated and heating properly, she plopped down next to me at the table.
“Isn’t
the fort wonderful, Harpin?” Hettie asked, directing her question across the platforms. “Harvey built it with his bare hands. No magic whatsoever.”
Harpin cleared his throat. “Harvey was a talented man.”
“He was.” Her voice turned soft, muted under the starlight. “A good man, too. I miss him.”
With those three little words, Hettie laid to rest the tension between Harpin and me, at least for the moment. A somber minute passed in which she blinked a few times, her eyes damp with tears.
“Hettie—” I started, but the snap of a hefty branch broke my concentration.
“Ah, there’s Gus.” Hettie tilted her head upward, swiped a hand against her cheek. “Now that we’re all here, let’s begin.”
CHAPTER 9
“Raymon was murdered,” Hettie said, once tea had been served around the room. “Can we all agree on this?” She didn’t leave time for a response. “Good talk. Can we also agree that there is more to the story than arresting Trent?”
“What do you mean?” I set my cup down on the table. “Ranger X said they arrested Trent because he gave Raymon the Poison Pill that killed him.”
“The Rangers needed a face to pin this on, and Trent was the best option,” Hettie said. “I highly doubt Ranger X believes this is the final story.”
“That doesn’t seem fair to Trent.”
“In Ranger X’s defense, Trent did serve a Poison Pill.”
“He says he doesn’t remember anything after stepping into the arena.”
“Hard to say if that’s true or not, isn’t it?” Hettie raised an eyebrow. “And if the Rangers didn’t make an immediate arrest, The Isle would be in a panic.”
“Whatever the final story, Trent is not innocent,” Harpin said as he held a cup of untouched tea in his hand. “He brought the Poison Pill into the arena, did he not?”
