He took the mug and looked at Elin. “My girl’s really sleeping,” he said. And he’d be a liar if he didn’t admit to himself that he was disappointed.
“Sit,” Sally said and waited until he took one of the chairs. He noticed she remained standing.
“Get yourself some coffee,” he said. “Come and sit with me.”
She wiped the palms of her hands on her yellow skirt. Passing him, she raised a curtain to look outside. “A winter wonderland again. I thought we’d finished with the ice and snow for the year.” Sally peered into the distance for a long time. “It’s a clear night, though. That’s a good thing.”
Sean wasn’t accustomed to feeling chilled, but cold goose bumps came out on his arms and legs, and the small hairs along his spine rose. Her distant tone, the way Sally wasn’t answering any questions directly, unnerved him.
“It’s crisp.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say.
They fell silent.
Sean picked at the worn, deep pile fabric on his chair. The room was a reminder of the cozy nest Leigh had made there with her first husband before he died.
Sally continued to stand at the window. “Is there something on your mind?” Sean said.
Elin moaned and turned over in her quilt. Her hair escaped and slid to trail off the edge of the couch. He frowned. It looked as if it had gotten very wet then dried without being combed.
“There’s plenty on my mind,” Sally said. “I’m trying to figure out how to explain it all. Sometimes you must accept what you can’t change, Sean. Others make decisions we might not make, but as long as you know they only want the best for everyone—especially you—you have to try to understand. When someone takes painful steps, they need support, not anger—even if you don’t agree with them.”
He took a deep breath. “You’re saying the same thing every way you can think of. You’re afraid of how I’ll react to whatever you want to tell me. I’m a reasonable man. Can’t you just trust me until I give you a reason not to?”
“I trust you, Sean,” Sally said. “Of course I do. I also know you’re passionate and single-minded. Don’t do anything foolish.”
Sean shot to his feet. “About what?” he said, louder than he had intended. He set the mug down. “What is it?”
Sally turned to the couch and raised a corner of the quilt to show the sleeping face…of the woman they had brought back from The Island.
Sally took advantage of his shocked silence to pull him into the minute kitchen and close the door. “That’s Cassie. She came up here after you went back earlier. She followed your footsteps. It was Elin she wanted to see. Obviously she trusts her and the anger down there at you was getting frightening. I think she was shut off in a bedroom and didn’t know a thing about Leigh being ill. So she split.”
“Is Elin in the loft?” Sean said, finally finding his voice.
“No.” Sally took a pot of coffee off the old stove and set two striped mugs on a blue and white checked tablecloth. She poured coffee and replaced the pot on the stove. “Join me.”
“Where’s Elin?” Sean asked. “Something’s happened, what?”
“Cassie was attacked on the porch. When we opened the door, she was just about unconscious. She had the red mark on her neck but Elin managed to draw it out. I don’t know how—except that your mate is a very powerful talent, and she’s also almost a complete mystery. Cassie fell into a deep sleep afterwards. She’s going to be okay.”
Sally’s mouth trembled before she bit her bottom lip to hold it steady.
“And Elin?” He felt rigid from head to foot. “Where is she?”
“Elin is certain she was supposed to be attacked, not Cassie. And Elin believes the idea was to snatch you while you were trying to help her.”
“I didn’t see anyone hanging around out there,” Sean said. The slow, heavy beat of his heart sickened him. “Did you? When you brought Cassie inside?”
“No.”
“So Elin isn’t sure this attack was meant for her?”
“Yes, she is. She’s gone, Sean. Elin won’t risk putting you in danger so she’s left the area.”
“And gone where? Where is she?”
“I don’t know where she is right now.”
Sean thumped the table and the mugs jumped, slopping coffee. When Sally made a move to get up and clean the mess, Sean clamped a hand on top of her wrist on the table. “Tell me now. I’ve got to know where she is.”
“I don’t know the answer to that. Not for sure. Trust her to do the right thing and come back to you.”
“It never struck me she might not come back to me—until you suggested it. Please, Sally, tell me where Elin is.”
Sally, known for her stoicism, began to cry. She covered her face with big, work-worn hands and sniffled.
“You’re frightened about something. Tell me.”
She shook her head, no, and took a long, shuddering breath. “I will stand by her,” she said. “I always have since Tarhazian got so difficult about her. I am banished from my own people for refusing to do what Tarhazian wants. She keeps asking me to deliver Elin to her. I would never do it. But I’m afraid she could do more things to interfere with Elin’s powers—at least the ones she knows about. Tarhazian must not know Elin’s gone. On her own she’s more vulnerable.”
Sean shoved a hand into his hair. “Elin told me she thought it was Tarhazian who found her on The Island—remotely—and forced a shift from Skillywidden.”
“I don’t think she could have,” Sally said. “How would she know where she was?”
“I don’t care.” Sean stood up, rested his knuckles on the table, and looked down at Sally. “Elin thinks Tarhazian’s power over her is fading. I’m just hoping she’s right. Tell me where Elin’s gone.”
The woman shook her head, no.
“Sally—”
“I will be sent to the Outer Reaches before I betray Elin,” Sally said.
The Outer Reaches were spoken of as a place of confusion and pain used as a prison by the very powerful. Since no one ever returned, there were no firsthand descriptions.
Threatening Sally would get him nowhere. Sean felt ashamed for even thinking of trying. “Elin needs me,” he said, softening his voice. “And I need her. Dammit, we belong to each other now. We’re stronger together. We can fend off anything.”
“No.” Sally shook her head. “No, you can’t. Do you know what I really think?”
He raised his brows.
Sally put a hand on one of his. “I think it was The One who shifted Elin out of Skillywidden on The Island. And I’ve decided it was him, or someone following his orders, who attacked Cassie. When he saw it wasn’t Elin, he took off. She believes she can be used to lure you to that man and that’s why she’s gone.”
“I don’t want her to protect me. I don’t need her to do that. She needs me.” Frustration strangled his voice. “I’m the one who must protect her. She would be helpless against that monster on her own.”
“If she makes it where she wants to go, she won’t be on her own.” Sally pressed her fingertips against her lips. “Sean, you’re wrong to behave as if Elin is a weakling you have to protect constantly. She has already shown how strong she is.”
Sean narrowed his eyes and pulled her hand away. “Who is she going to? Where is he or she?”
“A long way away,” Sally whispered. “That’s all I can tell you.”
chapter TWENTY-SEVEN
A basset hound wearing a tiara and pink tulle tutu rolled happily in a pile of dried horse droppings.
Elin closed her eyes and opened them again. Dogs everywhere, and every type of dog. All in costume.
She was still regaining her balance from the long trip to New Orleans and for an instant wondered if she was imagining things.
“Cute, darlin’,” a man smothered in strings of shiny beads that jangled on his robust stomach shouted at her. He flapped his painted face back and forth in front of Elin, laughing and showing off large,
perfect teeth. “You from the frozen land of the north or something, sweetness? You gonna be bar-be-cewed in that costume soon enough. You surely are.” He whipped off several of his purple, gold, and green bead necklaces and draped them on Elin before dancing on, flanked by four Dalmatians in police uniforms, minus the pants and shoes.
He’d been right about the parka. Elin struggled to take it off while she worked her way between dogs in decorated buggies, dogs trying to bite their neighbors, and robed dogs on elevated, rolling thrones, to the other side of the narrow street.
It was early afternoon and she was tired and hungry. That she had the power to make such a trip seemed unreal.
A costumed jazz band pranced by, aiming polished instruments in all directions while the onlookers danced, waved their arms, gyrated, and laughed, all at the same time.
Elin started to laugh, too. Trailing the parka from one hand, she forced her way through two-and four-footed participants onto the opposite sidewalk. She was in the French Quarter, and it was Mardi Gras, or it soon would be if she remembered her dates properly.
Tarhazian had discouraged reading but Elin had made friends with the sprite of the Forbidden Library hidden away on the fae compound, and the wizened little creature had led her willing pupil through hundreds of books on many subjects. Elin’s determination to educate herself had been just one more infraction on Tarhazian’s long list.
A fresh cheer went up. Two women on stilts wearing feathered headdresses and very little else carried a fringed, gold satin banner that proclaimed, “MYSTIC KREWE OF BARKUS.” The canine krewe was in full swing and this was Royal Street. Under a valiant sun, the tongue-in-cheek takeoff on the famed Krewe of Bacchus yipped and strutted its way. Elin recalled from her reading that the biggest Mardi Gras events wouldn’t take place for two weeks.
Icy winds and snow-blown bluffs seemed far away from bubbling, balmy New Orleans. A woman could get drunk on the scents of jasmine and honeysuckle trailing from pots on black-painted iron balconies above the street level. And explosions of hot orange, purple, and pink bougainvillea from more pots could easily make her dizzy.
But Elin must not dally.
She was scared and she already missed Sean so much it hurt. Who could this person she was to see possibly be that he might supposedly help her with what was happening thousands of miles away on Whidbey? How did he know about the Deseran? If he told her to do something she didn’t want to do, what then?
First she must find J. Clive Millet, the antique dealer’s shop. Then the only thing she could do was follow Sally’s instructions and trust her own instincts.
She faced the buildings that crowded together along the sidewalk. Furniture, glass, porcelain, and too much else to take in filled shop windows. Elin looked up. J. Clive Millet, painted in gold letters on a shiny black background, meant she was exactly where she needed to be.
At every step she took, Elin could sense stares and felt herself blush. It must be her floating, unusual dress. Not that anyone ought to notice amid such chaos.
She met a man’s eyes and he smiled, and bowed. “You are so beautiful,” he said, “Too beautiful to be real.” He carried on as if saying such things to a stranger was normal on any day.
Elin looked at the ground and scurried into the set-back doorway of the shop. “Well, I’m very real,” she muttered. She didn’t find a suggestion that she might not be at all comforting.
A bell jangled over the door when she went inside. The skin around her waist turned very warm and she pressed her hands against her stomach. She felt the wand and the balls of green wound inside Sally’s scarf. They were hot and she didn’t want to let them go. The thought that the wand had the capacity to burst forth flame didn’t comfort her. She didn’t feel confident she could control such things.
A distinguished-looking man with visible muscles filling out the shoulders, chest, and sleeves of his green velvet jacket talked seriously with a woman examining a shiny game table set for chess. The woman didn’t look Elin’s way, but the man, his head shaved, settled startlingly green eyes on her and gave the slightest of smiles. For a moment he stared past her, then he nodded and returned to the woman and the table.
Elin looked over her shoulder to see what the man had stared at.
Just a staircase. A dark staircase with carved balusters and banisters that shone with age.
Sally had told her to climb the stairs in the shop and keep on going up until she got where she would know she was supposed to be.
She caught the man’s green eyes once more and he nodded again, silently sending her on her way. Either the customer was too engrossed in the gaming table to notice Elin, or she couldn’t see her.
It would have taken a lot less intuition than Elin had not to be sure the woman couldn’t see her.
With her hands still on the scarf, Elin climbed the stairs to a landing, and took a second flight. At the top of this she saw a door with blazing insets of stained glass. But she didn’t pause for a moment. This was not her destination.
To the top, Sally had said.
Elin climbed again and as she went, her spirits began to fall. This wouldn’t be the place either, she was sure of it.
With a solid thump, a huge marmalade cat with eyes more orange than its coat landed at the top of this flight of steps. Elin hadn’t seen where it came from.
The cat sat and stared at Elin. For an instant the animal lifted the sides of her mouth to expose sharp incisors and gave a muted hiss. The cat raised its nose and sniffed the air. Long whiskers twitched.
If a cat could look suspicious, this one did. As abruptly as it had sat down, it stood again and backed off a few inches—inviting Elin to join her?
Hoping she wasn’t about to be attacked, Elin climbed to the next landing and faced her orange reception committee. The cat came closer, sniffing repeatedly, then, without warning, wound around her ankles, rubbed her silken head against Elin’s legs. An odd, chirping little sound was familiar. The cat was meeting one of its own kind—it sensed the cat in Elin.
With purpose, the cat crossed to a narrow, dark passageway and batted a rough wooden door wide open. More steps rose inside and Elin followed to the top.
A door there opened without either knock or push.
Confronted by a very tall man whose white-streaked black hair fell past his shoulders, the next breath she took caught in her throat. He studied her so closely she bowed her head.
“Elin,” he said in a deep voice. “Elin of Wise. Or Elin Wise as you now are. We’ve been expecting you.”
She gaped at him. This was the first time she had heard herself given another name. She had always been, simply, Elin. Or when Tarhazian decided, Princess Elin. The man’s thin features bore an aristocratic stamp. A firm mouth, clearly delineated, smiled a little, brightening eyes as blue as Niles Latimer’s. That’s where any similarity ended.
Elin Wise. The disk on the tiny gold bracelet she still hadn’t returned to Tarhazian had one word: Wise. It was her name.
She felt jumpy with excitement but concentrated on Jude.
This lean, imposing figure wore the kind of black suit she had only seen in paintings and etchings from ages long gone by. His simple white linen showed lace at the neck and wrist but he exuded masculine strength.
He swept an arm wide, inviting her in, and she went, the cat at her side, without even a shred of fear about stepping into an attic with an anachronistic stranger.
The cat sashayed in front of the man in a way designed to capture attention. “Marigold,” he said. His voice was deep but also whispery. “You did well. You may yet earn your outrageous comforts. Please close the door and sit if you like, Elin of Wise.”
Elin closed the door in a room where there was nowhere to sit but the floor. Behind the man a softly undulating white curtain divided the room. She tried to look more closely but couldn’t without being rude. But that curtain was different—it gave off a muted light, and when it made a subtle change of color to pink, then purple, Elin j
umped. Her hands automatically went to her middle, where she encountered warmth that had become calming and soothed her now.
How could she not think of their own Deseran colors in The Veil?
“You can’t,” the man said. “I would be disappointed if you didn’t think of The Veil.”
Startled, Elin said, “You read me so easily.”
“I’ve had hundreds of years to hone my telepathy,” he responded.
“Who are you?” Elin said before she could stop herself.
He smiled once more. “Someone trusted by your friend, Sally, although we have never met. She and I have close allies in common. But this is not about me. You have a great deal to confront before you will have time to remember me at all. Just think of me as someone who wanted to repay a kindness done to my family long ago.”
“Why should you do this for me, though?” Elin asked.
“Because I believe I can help you. My own journey isn’t yet finished, but I’ve learned a great deal in my time of watching, waiting, and sometimes interfering.” He smiled again. “You met—or rather saw—one of my descendents, Pascal, in the shop. I informed him you were coming and that he should give you a sign of welcome.
“Sally—the fae person—who contacted me told me a great deal about you. Let’s hope she didn’t put too much faith in my ability, and my contacts. We shall see.”
Elin went to a dormer window so high above the street that the people looked small and the dogs, little more than the size of Pokey. Poor Pokey would wonder where she had gone but Leigh would take care of her.
“My only window on the contemporary world,” the man said. “Not that I would choose to walk among those people. My name is Jude. May I call you Elin?”
“Of course,” she said, swinging toward him. “I am in trouble, sir. But I believe my first job is to find out more about myself. I understand you know someone who would help me. Then perhaps it will be easier to go forward and make sure my mate is not destroyed just because he chose me.”
Jude crossed his arms. “I know your situation. And I assure you that your mate doesn’t regret his choice. Sally approves of him for you and I know the fae are very fussy about who gets close to their own.”
Darkness Bred (Chimney Rock) Page 20
