“Where is Sara?” I asked.
“I don’t know. I expected her before now.”
The emptiness in the pit of my stomach grew. It only got worse when he told me not to try the new technique I’d learned to block my thoughts and emotions. He didn’t think I was ready. Instead he wanted me to use my old projection because Chalen would expect it.
When I got back to my car, my phone was ringing. Mom had called a dozen times.
“Maggie, where are you? Are you alright?” The words came fast, laced with a stronger Spanish accent than normal.
“Yeah, Mom. I’m so sorry. Is Dad okay?”
“He’s ... consumed. I know he will feel bad about raising his voice to you—he’s just worked up right now. He wanted to tell you and your brother later. He just keeps repeating that.”
“It really wouldn’t matter when he planned to tell me, Mom. Nothing is going to change how I feel.”
“I know, me either.”
“Mom, did you try to stop him?”
The line was quiet for several seconds before she spoke again.
“I did. I love it here and I don’t want to move. But Maggie, I’ll be honest, he said he was moving back to Florida and he won’t listen to anything else. I think he’d move back even if I refused.”
“Oh, Mom, I’m sorry.” I felt a knot in my throat when I realized what that meant.
“Maggie, are you coming home?”
“Yeah, about that—can I stay at Rachel’s tonight? I think it…”
“Yes,” she said, cutting me off.
I was prepared to plead my case, but I didn’t have to. However, I was concerned by the tone in her voice. I knew then why she’d been so irritable the first day I saw the men there. I also knew how much the Weald meant to her—she had been the happiest here. Her art, and her love of it, blossomed after we got to Arkansas, and it would hurt her to give it up.
“Mom, are you alright?”
She paused again. “I’ll be fine. If your father insists on moving back to Florida, we’ll go. He’s more important to me than anything, except you and your brother. We’ll get through this.” She had always been stronger than him, more willing to sacrifice her own desires for the rest of us. She was readying herself to do it again.
“Okay. Are you at the cottage now?”
“No, honey. Mitch and I are spending the night in Sara’s old cottage. We’re here now. He thinks it’s a camping trip.”
Sleeping separately? It’s worse than I thought.
“That’s why I called. I wanted you to know where we are if you come back, but staying with Rachel is a better idea.”
“Mom, I’m so sorry. I should have kept my mouth shut. You’re fighting because of me.”
“No, Maggie, we aren’t really fighting, and even if we are, it isn’t because of you. Your father just needs some time to sort through things—I’m giving him some space tonight. That’s all.”
She was sugarcoating it, but I didn’t press the issue. I did feel incredibly guilty, though. We talked for a few more minutes and I promised I’d see her tomorrow night. After I hung up, I called Rachel. She was elated to have me come over, and much to her credit, she didn’t ask why.
I talked to her and her dads, Lance and Roger, before they retired for the evening. Sleep for me was impossible—I could only think about the looming trial—and Chalen. He would be smug and wouldn’t want me to pass, so he would be frightening, too. I thought about everything else that had happened in the Weald, and the timing of it all. I was angry—Chalen had orchestrated everything, and he had a plan in place. I pulled the blue stone out of my pocket and stared at it. Then I wondered…
* * *
My nerves got the best of me as Billy drove me to the Weald. He took me in his SUV, a beat-up twenty-five-year-old Range Rover, because he thought it best to leave my T-bird in town. When we turned at the top of the drive, my stomach lurched and I felt sickness coming on. I rolled down the window and swallowed several gulps of air as I concentrated again on calming my nerves. He drove around the boulders that blocked the drive to the Seoladán, the Range Rover rattling and groaning as the tires fought their way over small stones and underbrush, and pulled up far enough that the SUV was hidden from the drive. No one—no human—would know we were there.
Despite the bright and sunny day, everything felt ominous. I searched my feelings and realized that it would have felt ominous even if it were raining daisies. When I stepped out and shut the creaky door, I fought another wave of nausea. I managed to keep the bile down, and followed Billy to the rock wall where he stopped. The breeze was strong, blowing colored leaves around us and causing the limbs of the trees to sway. There was so much sound I was a little unnerved.
Billy turned to me. He look concerned and whispered, “Maggie, control your thoughts and emotions. I can read you.”
Raising the projection in my head, I tried to bottle the fear and apprehension I felt. I didn’t think I would be able to keep it under control.
“Maggie, please, concentrate!” he whispered again, but more loudly.
“I’m trying.”
I reined in my emotions and he looked relieved. My mind wandered to Sara, and my nerves roared back to life as I felt myself wanting her here. My mind spread out to search the area. There were a few Fae about—they were further back in the woods, watching. A mental picture of Gavin crossed my mind—this was the last place I’d seen him. Desperately, I wished he were with me. Billy shook his head and seemed to will me to hold it together, but he didn’t speak. Instead he looked over my shoulder past the greenhouse.
I felt him, too. Chalen knew we were here and he was waiting in the ruined garden.
“Aren’t you coming with me?”
“I cannot cross the boundary. No Fae can. But I will be...”
I fought to control my anxiety again but couldn’t, so I turned away from him. Billy stopped talking and looked at me, helplessly. My stomach convulsed and I gagged. It convulsed again. I tried to take a deep breath, but after a third convulsion an acrid taste filled my throat and nose, spilling out on the ground. It was all I could do to take a deep breath.
“Crap,” I said. My eyes watered as I spit the residue out of my mouth.
“I’ll be alright,” I said.
Chalen’s laughter echoed past us and sent a shiver down my spine.
“I will be right here. No Fae may enter until the trial is complete.”
I focused on keeping my mind blank and stepped through the opening in the stone wall. My heart raced, and I moved forward until the southern portion of the garden, weeds growing unchecked, slowly came into view. I remembered where Chalen stood that night, but he wasn’t there as I searched for him. After a few more steps I could see the corner of the cottage, all covered in a tangle of overgrown vines. As I walked a little further, I saw him standing next to the fountain. The images from that night came flooding back. I could almost feel the pressure of the water coming at me from the fountain. I pushed the memory back in my mind, but not before Chalen’s lips curled in a cruel smile.
He was perched on the rim of the fountain in the form of the creepy old man. More hideous, but less frightening than his younger version. I stopped in front of the greenhouse, the same place where I’d nearly been killed, and felt a violent shudder run through my body. Taking a deep breath, I wrestled for control of my emotions—the fear I felt was my own, not compelled by Chalen. Too bad! I would love to see him banished.
“Maggie O’Shea, I’m honored. Please, closer.” He waved his long bony fingers toward the edge of the fountain. “I don’t intend to yell all morning.” He smiled. Oh, please, wipe that stupid grin off your face.
I willed myself to walk forward, and thought of Sara again. Sara, you said you’d be here.
“Ohhh, you miss the old vulture, don’t you?” He mocked, with a forced apologetic look.
“Crap” I said as I forced the images behind the screen in my mind. At the edge of the fountain I looke
d in. I expected it to be as filthy as the rest of the garden, but the water was clear. Even under a thin layer of algae, the mosaic in the bottom of the basin was absolutely visible.
“So, would-be Maebown, it is time for your most important trial.”
I pictured the lake in my mind, and wondered if he would follow me down to it. I was careful to keep my fears well back.
“Do you have the Water stone?”
“I do.” I patted it in my pocket.
I pictured the lake again.
“You simple-minded twit. You expect the Water trial to involve swimming or some other foolish thing?” He exhaled and shook his head. “No such luck—state champion. Well, the truth is, I would love to make you swim to the base of the dam, but there is no point, really. Can you search your feeble mind and tell me what corresponds to Water—surely you have studied it.”
“I have. Fall...”
“Simplistic, obvious,” he snapped.
“It represents emotions, and some say the essense of life...”
“Some say?” He exhaled, loudly.
“And it corresponds to mind.”
He smiled. “Yes, and do you know what that means?”
“I will have to keep control of my mind?”
He laughed loudly, and in a snide voice, said, “No, Maggie O’Shea, would-be Maebown, it means you will have to do something, quite frankly, I think is a human weakness—your weakness in particular. You will have to think.”
He stepped down from the edge of the fountain and walked to within arms reach of me, the closest he’d ever been. I shuddered again. He smiled and shook his head.
“I will not harm you ... it is forbidden.”
Bending over, he scooped up a handful of mud and pressed it between his white fingers until he formed a ball. He looked up at me and smiled as he continued to work it, much like Mom did with raw clay. While he flattened it into a disc, he hummed a little song. It was the tune from the music box in Aunt May’s room. I knew it was no coincidence—it was a vile ploy. A deep convulsion rushed violently through my body as I fought to regain control of myself. But the truth was, I wanted nothing more than to run from him.
He continued to hum, occasionally glancing up at me with his dull, foggy blue eyes. The black, muddy form began to change color—light brown at first, then to tan and finally white. It was nearly translucent. He shaped it until it was perfectly round and flat. As I watched, tiny painted flowers formed on the surface in a continuous, interwoven ribbon around the rim—it looked just like a saucer from Lola’s tea set.
Seeing it in his hand made me angry, and I felt as violated as I had when he compelled me with the dream of Doug. When he completed the perfect replica, he raised his forefinger—the nail turned black and grew into a sharp, pointed claw. He wasn’t compelling fear—he didn’t need to. He pressed his nail into the center of the saucer, and slowly began to spin it. I could hear the scraping sound as his claw cut into the center. A few flecks of white dust popped free around the black point. They were followed by more, until a divot appeared. He pulled his claw out and blew the dust from the surface, puffing up his pock marked cheeks. He continued to hum as he put the saucer up to the sun to reveal a tiny hole in the center.
“This will do,” he said, handing it to me.
I hesitated for a moment, but reached out to grab it. For a split-second, his cold finger grazed mine and I shuddered again. I took a breath and calmed myself.
“You will place it on the surface of the water when you are ready to begin. Not until, because you will only have moments before it fills and sinks. If it slips below the surface, you fail. Once you place the saucer, you will have until it sinks to conjure the Water symbol. You do that from in there.”
He pointed to the grimy obelisk in the center of the basin. I saw a triangular opening at the base, underneath the carving of the man’s face. I immediately noticed that the strands of his swirling beard hung over and around an opening. With the opening so covered up, I wondered whether I would be able to get the stone in place using my Air ability. As I studied it, I didn’t think I could. Were it not for the edges of the stone carving standing in the way, I might, but my control still wasn’t that good.
A gust of wind picked up and blew across the water, and I watched as ripples danced on the surface. He threw a small stone into the water, and it sent a ring of ripples outward. I looked at the saucer, and knew that the slightest ripple could be enough to swamp it.
“Yes, any of this might sink it—even a stray leaf,” he said, laughing at me as the wind blew hundreds of them across the garden. “I am aware of your talent with Air. You will have to use it to keep the wind from disturbing the water. Regardless of how the saucer sinks, the result will be the same. You will fail.”
I realized that meant I wouldn’t be able to cross the basin. To block the wind, I wouldn’t be able to concentrate hard enough to place the stone without doing it by hand. I had to cross the surface without disturbing it, somehow.
“I’m feeling magnanimous, Girlie Girl—I’ll give you five minutes to begin,” he said, looking dismissively down his thin, crooked nose.
I almost puked. He mocked Aunt May, and his put-on accent revolted me. I had to ignore him, and control my … thoughts. Sick piece of…
The wind blew hard against my back, shoving me forward. I pushed out against it, forming an invisible barrier, but the wind whipped around the outside edges until I extended it, slowly, probing with my mind around the perimeter of the fountain until it closed on the other side. Immediately, I noticed that I couldn’t sense any of the Fae who had gathered in the forest. I couldn’t sense Billy, either. I couldn’t sense anyone except Chalen, who smiled broadly. It reminded me of the night Aunt May showed me the photo of Kyle—when everything went silent.
“Alone at last,” he said with a grimace.
For a moment I considered letting my barrier fall because I felt trapped. When I looked toward Chalen, though, he climbed back onto the wall, facing the pool, and watched. He seemed to pose no danger at the moment. Even though I couldn’t sense the other Fae, I could see them—at least those in physical form. It’ll be okay, just get to it.
“Four minutes” he said, laughing again.
The water in the basin looked about five feet deep, maybe six. There was nothing in it except a few small fish darting about, seemingly unaware of what was happening on the surface. Beyond me, leaves bounced off my barrier and slid down to the ground.
I studied the side of the basin. If I removed a stone from the base, the water would drain and I could simply walk across the bottom and put the Water stone in place. I would have to remove one big enough to drain the fountain before the saucer sank. Where I stood, the ground surface was halfway up the side. The water wouldn’t drain there. I walked around to the south side. The ground level was the lowest on that side—the edge of the fountain was at my chin. A large stone at the base looked like it was near the bottom of the fountain. It was the only place around the basin where the bottom appeared to be exposed. That had to be it, I thought.
I waited until the surface of the water was perfectly still—a few leaves floated harmlessly on top.
“Thirty seconds!”
My heart raced as I ran back up to where the rim was at my waist. I slowly and gently put the saucer on the surface. I held my breath—I didn’t want to disturb the water. After gingerly letting it go, the saucer spun slighly, and bobbled a little, but floated. It sat lower in the water than I had hoped, and almost instantly a tiny bubble of water welled up from the hole. I placed my hand on the side of the fountain and concentrated on making the large stone disappear. Immediately, water rushed out and the surface slowly went down.
“Ah, taking the easy way out. Just like your father,” Chalen sneered.
His words didn’t anger me, but they did catch me off guard. I would find out what he meant after this was over.
The bubble of water in the saucer grew. At first it was the size of a
pea, a few seconds later, a dime. The water in the fountain lowered six inches, maybe—I wasn’t going to have time to do it this way. I noticed the saucer moving to my right, slowly—everything was moving. Just like a draining bathtub, a whirlpool formed on the surface near where I altered the stone. I watched a purple-brown leaf drift closer until it was sucked into the vortex. The saucer would be caught in moments.
Draining the water was the wrong approach. My barrier nearly failed as I rushed back over to the side and changed the stone back. The water stopped coming out, but I saw a six-inch-long fish flopping on the ground. I fought the urge to slip it back into the fountain. Even though I didn’t want it to die, trying to save it would disturb the surface. My mind wandered, briefly, back to the first time I saw the basin.
It was frozen, and the fish must have been alive under the icy surface all winter. The solution hit me. Chalen laughed. I knew he could hear my heart beating out of my chest, and he could read the images in my mind. The effort it took to keep my barrier up weakened my mental screen, and he took advantage by catching glimpses.
So be it. I pictured the frozen surface last winter and remembered the leaves held motionless. I watched him as his smile disappeared. He was afraid, and now I knew he didn’t want me to be a Maebown. Fear—there has to be much more to this situation than meets the eye, and it is something only a Maebown can prevent.
Time was running out and I had to control the water, I thought, not drain it. I smiled at Chalen and the emotion drained from his wretched face. My heart sped up again when I noticed the water in the saucer had spread and filled the bottom. I only had moments. Concentrating on the water, I pictured it frozen in my mind. Nothing happened.
I thought of the ice in my diet coke at the Garden Bisto, and I concentrated on the snow that fell after we moved here. I remembered how cold my hands were when I touched it—the burning numbness was still fresh enough that I could almost feel it. I pictured the icicles that hung from the eaves of the cottage and ran every image of frozen water I could think of though my mind and opened my eyes again. Nothing.
Weald Fae 01 - The Steward Page 34
