Oberon Boxed Set (Books 1-3) Welcome to Oberon

by P. G. Forte

  “Hey, you worked just as hard. And... how is this your fault? You’re saying you did this?”

  “Well, that’s obvious, isn’t it?” Her voice sounded faintly exasperated. “I’m the one who’s supposed to know how to set the tank up, after all. I guess I must’ve forgotten something, or done something wrong, or—”

  “Don’t be stupid,” he snapped. “I mean... things like this just... happen sometimes. Don’t they?”

  The look she shot him was shuttered and sly. “Yeah, they happen.” She got to her feet and stood there, hugging herself, while he got up, too. But although she didn’t resist his embrace, neither did she return it. She seemed to be withdrawing again. Retreating to some distant country deep inside herself. Someplace where he could not follow.

  He had to bring her back. He had to think of something. “So, what do we do now?”

  She sighed. “Well, there’s the bio lab at the University. I suppose I could take a water sample there. Try to find out if it’s something in the water that’s killing everything. But other than that...”

  “So, then I guess we’ve got the day off, huh?”

  “What?” She looked at him in surprise.

  “Well, you’ve got no class coming down here today, right? And there’s not much sense in starting over with the tank – not until we’ve figured out what kind of problem we’re dealing with. So let’s drop off your sample and then take a drive up the coast. You can show me the elephant seals like you’ve been promising you’d do.”

  “Ryan, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. You’ve been spending a lot of time here, maybe you should just—”

  “Are you kidding? It’s a great idea.” He smiled at her encouragingly. “We’ve both been working really hard and besides, you need a break after this. For a couple of hours anyway. It’s too depressing to stay here right now.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe you’re right...”

  “I know I am.” He gently pushed her in the direction of her rooms. “Now, why don’t you go and get dressed? I’ll make you some tea... or maybe you want to stop somewhere and get breakfast?”

  “Oh, definitely let’s get breakfast out,” she answered, smiling, too, for the first time since he’d gotten there. “If we’re gonna play hooky today, we might as well do it right.”

  * * * *

  Scout took a sip of tea and stared at the tarot card she’d just placed on the table in front of her. The deck she was using had originally belonged to Marsha’s friend, Celeste. After Celeste’s murder the previous summer, Marsha had given the cards to her. Scout had been working with them for a little while now and although she’d grown familiar with many of their meanings, they still didn’t speak to her the way they ought to. What, for example, was she supposed to make of The Page of Swords? The Page cards had to do with risk and inspiration. And also with immaturity. And the swords... something to do with creativity, wasn’t it? Or conflict?

  Oh, who cares, she thought impatiently, abandoning her attempt at gathering any impressions from that particular card. She took another sip of tea and looked around her.

  The Crone’s Nest was a busy place this morning. Despite the chill in the air, even the tables on the terrace were mostly occupied. There was freesia blooming in several of the planters, its delicate scent just barely discernible. The sun was shining for the first time in what seemed like forever. Stray puffs of cloud passed slowly across the sky, like ships heading out to sea. And cream-colored buds dotted the branches of the cherry trees that lined the sidewalk. It was nice to be able to sit outside again. It had been a long winter, and it was not yet over.

  At the other end of the table, Lucy and Marsha were deep in conversation.

  “I just don’t know what’s wrong with Jesse, anymore.” Marsha heaved a heavy sigh. “Just when I’d – begun thinking that maybe everyone else was right 0that maybe I should just stop worrying so much about the boys getting too attached to Sam – he starts acting like this. Do you think it could have anything to do with his new half-sister? I mean, maybe he’s mad at his father for some reason and he’s just taking it out on the rest of us?”

  “You mean maybe it’s Alex’s fault?” Lucy snorted derisively. “Oh, like that would be different. So what’s he doing, anyway? Jesse, I mean. I don’t really care about Alex.”

  “I don’t even know how to explain it.” Marsha shook her head. “He’s just been... rude. And uncooperative. All week. It’s like he’s angry at Sam all of a sudden. Or angry at me. But the feelings I get from him are just... confused.”

  Scout put down another card. The Fool. She stared at the picture of a smiling young man with a dog at his heels – about to walk off a cliff. She tried to get a feeling for its inner meaning, but nope. It told her nothing.

  This tea didn’t do much for her, either. She’d never really liked rose-hip tea, but since she felt like she was coming down with a cold it seemed like the sensible choice to make this morning. Especially since there wasn’t all that much Marsha could do to it without her knowing. Unlike her lattes, which Marsha was constantly fiddling around with, adding all sorts of supposedly beneficial herbs to them.

  “Well, you know, Marsha,” Lucy said, “Even though, normally, I’d love to be able to blame Alex for anything I can, in all fairness, I think it’s just well... welcome to the wonderful world of teen age boys.”

  She paused to sip at her espresso. “This sounds exactly like what I’ve been going through with Seth. He’s always been an A student, but now, it’s like he doesn’t care at all about his schoolwork. All he wants to do is skate. I mean, yeah, I can understand it, to a degree; skateboarding is such a totally male thing, after all. There’s all that wood and wheels and metal. And sand paper. And special little tools. And all the hardware they require, all the tinkering. New trucks. New kingpins. New bearings. It’s a sport and a vehicle and a construction project all rolled into one. Plus it’s just dangerous, painful and competitive enough to be completely irresistible!

  But when he’s not absorbed in that... he and Dan are just at each other’s throat every minute. He doesn’t want to work at the nursery anymore. He doesn’t want to help out around the house. And he doesn’t take anything seriously. When we warned him about the wild dogs, he practically fell out of his chair, he was laughing so hard!”

  Lucy took another sip of coffee and Scout stared at the cup longingly. It smelled so wonderful. She felt her mood slip further southward. Damn, she wanted a latte. Maybe she could risk a decaf?

  She shot a quick glance at Marsha. Was she too preoccupied worrying about Jesse to meddle with her drink, if she got one? Hard to tell. For someone who talked about the importance of not interfering with someone else’s fate, Marsha was the most interfering person she knew. Worse even than Lucy – who really had to stop bothering Nick about every little blessed thing. Scout put down another card. The Two of Cups. That had something to do with friendship, didn’t it? Well, that figured, Marsha and Lucy were the best friends she’d ever had, after all. Although, there were times, like right now—

  “Has Nick heard anything more about them, by the way?” Lucy asked.

  It took a couple of moments of silence for Scout to realize that she was the one being addressed. She looked up, startled. “Huh? What?”

  Lucy scowled. “Nick? Your husband? Remember him?”

  “Don’t start with me today, Lucy,” Scout said, with a matching scowl. “I’m not in the mood.”

  She slapped another card down on the table. Ten of Pentacles. Now she knew these cards weren’t working. The Ten of Pentacles had to do with happiness, stability, success – not anything like what she was feeling at the moment. “What is it you want to know, anyway?”

  “The wild dogs. Has there been any more news?”

  “Oh, enough with those stupid dogs.” Marsha groaned. “Jesus, Luce. That subject’s been done to death. I’m sick of it. Forget them. Tell me what’s been happening with— Scout? Are you all right?”

&nbs
p; “Yeah, sure,” Scout muttered, trying to catch her breath as the sudden stab of pain receded. She shifted restlessly and the child within her squirmed again; doing something that resulted in hard little bulges appearing in about half a dozen places around her abdomen. She knew she wasn’t having twins, but sometimes she really did wonder if the child she was carrying wasn’t equipped with eight limbs. Like a spider.

  Or a crab, she thought looking at the next card she’d turned over. The Moon card. Two dogs stood on the shoreline and barked at the moon, while in the foreground a crab – or was it a lobster – crawled out of the water. Something to do with the subconscious, and with dreams. But... did lobsters ever leave the water, she wondered as her thoughts were once again sidetracked by the images. Too bad Siobhan wasn’t here this morning, she’d know about stuff like that.

  “Scout? Are you sure you—”

  “Yes, Marsha. I’m fine. I’ll just be very relieved when the little kickboxing champ is born. I’m getting so very tired of playing the role of gymnasium.”

  Lucy frowned. “Oh, it can’t be as bad as all that.”

  “And I suppose I could say the same thing about you and Seth, couldn’t I?” Scout snapped back as she put down the next card. Strength. A woman calmly stroked a lion. That reminded her of something, but she couldn’t for the life of her think what.

  Why was she letting Lucy get to her this morning? She wasn’t usually this hypersensitive. Probably it had to do with the fact that she hadn’t been sleeping well lately. She turned over another card. She wished she knew what was causing all those nightmares. She stared at the card in front of her—The Tower—and suddenly, everything made sense.

  This was all about last summer when she and Lucy and Marsha had all almost died, wasn’t it? When Celeste had been killed. When that maniac had tried to kill her and she’d had to—

  She put out a finger and traced over the two figures falling from the tower. No. She hadn’t done anything, she reminded herself, sternly. Nothing she needed to feel guilty about, anyway. He’d killed himself. That was all. And as awful as that had been, it was time for her to stop thinking about it. Stop dreaming about it. Time for her to tell Nick that she’d finally figured out what was causing the nightmares and— oh, shit, no.

  Desolation settled in her heart. She couldn’t mention this to Nick. He was upset enough already. She’d just have to deal with this on her own. The same way she’d had to deal with most things in her life. Alone.

  * * * *

  Siobhan knew she should be feeling guilty about all the time she’d been taking off from work lately, but as she pulled her van back into the parking lot behind the cottage later that evening, she just couldn’t work up the energy for that much guilt. The truth was, she’d enjoyed herself far too much today to regret any of it.

  They’d driven up the coast to see the elephant seals: green cliffs to the right of them on the way up and on their left on the way home. The ocean, bright as cut crystal in the sunlight, on the opposite side. Because she knew the docents who monitored the rookeries, they were able to go closer than the general public was allowed.

  On the walk back to the van Ryan had casually taken hold of her hand, lacing his fingers through hers as if it were the most natural thing in the world. But it had been ten years since a man had held hands with her. No, it was longer than that, she realized, with a sad little shock. It was a lot longer – more like eighteen years.

  It wasn’t just that Tim wasn’t physically very demonstrative by nature. It was that he chose to show his affection in so much more... creative ways. And his disapproval, as well.

  How many times, for instance, had he claimed their daughters had been fathered by someone else? For no other reason than to embarrass her, to watch her squirm. As hurtful as it would have been had he said such things in private, it was excruciatingly more so because he’d always taken his accusations public.

  But that wasn’t even the worst of it. After a while, their whole marriage had degenerated into some kind of sick game. Into an unending succession of prank phone calls, trick birthday gifts – and he’d put salt in her sugar bowl so often, she’d eventually taken to drinking her tea plain.

  She was quite certain that Ryan would never resort to such puerile games just to gain a few points. He was too straightforward for that. Too honest. Although on the surface he might appear as autocratic and intractable as any man she’d ever known, there was an endearing gentleness to him, too. A boyish innocence which, despite all his teasing, was worlds removed from Tim’s childishness.

  She’d sensed that same disparity in the way he made love to her. Right from the start he had been direct, even forceful in his approach. His kisses had all but demanded a response. And yet... last night he’d touched her as though she were something rare and precious. A treasure he could not quite believe he’d had the good luck to unearth.

  As though she were someone whose love he would cherish – both now and for always.

  But always is a very long time, she reminded herself, even as he took her hand again, and walked with her around to the front of the building. It was way too soon for her to start thinking about things like love or always in connection with him. If there ever would be a time for it.

  They climbed the stairs to the porch and he took her in his arms. “It’s late. I guess I should head home,” he said as he brushed his lips across hers. His voice sounded regretful and there was a question buried beneath the statement. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and shook her head.

  “No. Don’t go yet,” she murmured as she kissed him back. “I want you to stay.”

  He pulled her closer, leaning back against the railing post and bracing one foot on the bottom rail. He deepened the kiss, and she felt herself falling headlong into the passion that was never very far from the surface anymore.

  She didn’t know how long they might have continued like that, if he hadn’t raised his head suddenly to ask, “What’s that sound?”

  She had to listen for several minutes before the pounding of her heart subsided enough for her to hear it, too. “Oh, shit. It’s your dog.”

  She pulled away from him and fumbled in her coat pocket for her keys. Damn it, she’d picked a fine time to start locking the door, hadn’t she?

  She could sense his impatience as she fitted the key to the lock, but it was his own fault for having insisted she lock it. The instant the door swung open he edged in front of her and stepped into the room.

  “Hey!” he called, and the odd, keening was cut off in mid howl. His dog ran towards them from the back of the cottage, barking sharply. “Stay here,” he ordered, addressing both her and the dog, she thought, as he strode purposefully across the room.

  “Macho idiot,” she murmured, as she soothed the dog. She should have expected as much. Just when she made the mistake of thinking he’d left the Stone Age attitude behind, he went all caveman on her again. She was sure there were a lot of women who’d be happy to accept that sort of behavior – especially from a man as attractive as Ryan. And probably he’d met more than his share of them, too.

  But if he thought she was ever going to be one of them, he could damn well think again!

  She hurried after him, pulled open the infirmary door and then stopped dead still at the top of the stairs, too startled by the sight before her to go any further. Ryan was down on one knee in front of an obviously injured Selke. The little dog lay unmoving on the floor – a pathetic lump of fur in a puddle of blood.

  “Get back, Siobhan.” Ryan spoke with quiet urgency, not turning his head to look at her. Not moving at all, in fact. “Don’t even think about coming down here.”

  “Why? What’s—” she began, and then stopped again when she heard it. The unmistakable rumbling growl of an enraged feline. She slid her eyes carefully in the direction of the sound, and fear lodged in her throat. The bobcat had gotten loose.

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  * * * *

  Chapter Nineteen

 
* * * *

  Ryan didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to keep himself still. Already the muscles in his bad leg were throbbing in protest, very soon now they would start screaming for him to straighten it out. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he tried to keep his breathing steady. He could hear Selke whimpering, but he forced himself to stay focused on the cat while he tried to figure out what the hell he could do to get himself and the dog away from it, without incurring further injury.

  The bobcat paced the floor less than fifteen feet away from him and telling himself that it was probably as nervous as he, provided little comfort. Nervous frightened him. Nervous people tended to act rashly and make stupid mistakes. The same probably held true for nervous animals too, he was willing to bet.

  Out of the corner of his eye he saw motion on the stairs. Irritation seized him. Damn the woman! Couldn’t she for once do as she was told?

  “Siobhan, I told you not to come down here.”

  “Calm down Ryan,” she answered, her voice so quiet and matter-of-fact he had to fight an impulse to turn his head and glare at her. “I know what I’m doing.”

  Terrific. His breath hissed through his clenched teeth. She knew what she was doing? Sure, and didn’t she always think that?

  “Just give me a couple of minutes and I’ll have her under control.”

  He had to bite back his response. A couple of minutes? Hell, why not hours, he felt like asking; or days, even?

  “How?” he muttered. The cat, registering two humans in the vicinity now, left off pacing to crouch menacingly. Ryan watched as its muscles bunched in preparation for a leap.

  “Well, how do you think, Ryan? I’m going to tranquilize her, of course.”

  Even though he couldn’t see her, he’d swear from the sound of her voice that she was smiling.

  “Just be patient while I get a few of these darts filled, okay?”

  Pain lanced through his leg and he shifted slightly, involuntarily. The bobcat laid back its ears and snarled at him.