Cameron says, “Hold on,” and leaves Margo chattering in the water. He splashes back to the Witch’s field and runs out of sight. He is only gone for a moment, and when he returns he is holding the jacket Nick had given Margo before they left on their journey. She smiles appreciatively as he helps slip it on her arms.
On they walk through the dark, tree-lined waters. The faint glow of the lantern casts eerie golden shadows through the black forest. The scattering stars overhead reflect off the stream. Oddly beautiful as ever, nighttime in Jamyria is Margo’s favorite.
A burst of green color erupts in Margo’s pathway. She nearly falls into the icy water.
“Careful,” says Cameron, and when Margo sloshes away, adds, “It’s just a neonink.”
The form before her dances in the wind. It is transparent and nothing more than a collection of gas glowing in the night. A second comes to life, this one in brilliant orange. It swirls around the first.
“They’re completely harmless,” he continues. “More of a pain than anything. Careful not to touch — they cling to you for days if you walk into one by accident.”
They carry on for another sloshy mile, dodging neoninks every so often. The creatures seem attracted to their presence seeing as they light themselves as Cameron and Margo’s approach. They glow in every imaginable color, bringing new life to the night.
The leaves ahead glow in bright emeralds and their path is suddenly cut off by draping vines.
“We’re here,” says Cameron with a grin. He draws back the vines, allowing Margo to pass under.
They face a short, fat tree hidden under thousands of yellow lights. These lights are different from the neoninks; they are individual glowing beads rather than freeform spritz. They shimmer in dazzling movements.
“Oh, Cam, I love fireflies!” Margo breathes. “Just like when we used to sit at the pond. They’re beautiful!”
He pulls her from the stream and heads closer to the illuminated tree. Cameron leads her to a fallen tree covered in soft moss where they both sit, eyes not parting from the spectacle.
“When I entered,” he reminisces, “I ended up here.”
Margo looks into his clear eyes.
“Your run in with the Witch…?” she asks, beginning to put everything together.
He nods. “That’s right. She thought I was one of them — one of the Queen’s Crew. She came after me with a crossbow. I eventually convinced her, but she told me to leave her territory. That’s how I ended up in the Central City. Well, the gist of it anyway.”
Margo shivers again. The thought of someone trying to hurt Cameron gives her chills. She subconsciously scoots closer to him. He smiles and wraps his arm around Margo, pulling her in tighter.
“You want to know why I really brought you here?” he says in her ear.
Margo looks up nervously and shakes her head.
Bouncing to his feet, he extends his free arm, pulling Margo along with him as he moves closer to the lighted tree. A cluster of light falls down to him like illuminated dandelion seeds.
“Look,” he says holding out his glowing hand.
The trio twirls about in his palm, but when Margo looks even closer, she realizes they are not fireflies after all. Excitement flutters her stomach. They’re illuminated people — fairies.
“Oh my gosh! Those are fairies!” she shouts. “THERE ARE FAIRIES HERE?!”
“Shhh!” he says. Then he whispers, “Tiny ears.”
The ladies in his palm cover their ears with a clear look of pain on their miniature features.
Margo claps her hands over her mouth, a flush of heat filling her cheeks.
“I wanted you to see another good thing about Jamyria before we leave.”
One of the fairies flies up and hovers inches before Margo’s face. She is exquisitely beautiful to look at, not much bigger than the tip of her thumb. She doesn’t appear to be wearing any clothing, but her light is so intense the finer details of her bodies are unclear. Her frail wings are transparent with web-like delicateness.
“They’re beautiful,” she whispers.
The one examining Margo drifts back to Cameron’s hand with her sisters. They whisper among themselves moving in dance-like rhythms.
“You remember the girl I told you about?” Cameron says to the little ladies.
All three of their faces brighten.
“Margo?” one of them says in a voice quieter than a whisper.
“Yes,” Cameron breathes. “This is Margo.”
The excitement intensifies as Margo realizes these fairies recognize her not as the New Mark but as herself. Because Cameron must have spoken of her. Her spirit warms.
Suddenly, more fairies fall from the tree shimmering all around. Their whispers blend into a sound like wind between the reeds. Cameron’s hand frees as the fairies twirl up to join the others dancing in the air above.
Carefully, he brushes Margo’s hair from her eyes. His hand lingers on the back of her neck. The light from the stars and fairies reflects off his eyes in white and gold specks. His thumb traces the lines of her neck. The electrostatic power within charges at the touch of his smooth lips as they press against hers. Margo’s hands creep up his arms, feeling out each muscle, trying to memorize everything about him as if this dream might suddenly be snatched from her.
He smiles down at her oddly. “You’re braver than I gave you credit for.”
Margo blinks unsure she heard him right.
“You mean, you’re not going to argue about how I should stay and that I’m too weak for whatever lies ahead in this world?”
He shakes his head in disbelief, though the smile does not leave his lips. “It’s true, I don’t want this for you. It’s dangerous and seeing you fight, even if it’s just for practice, scares me. You’re small and have the appearance of someone who needs protection. But that was never you, was it? No, you’ve always had a fighting spirit. You and Kylie both.” Margo fights back the urge to wince at her sister’s name. “It isn’t fair for them to expect this of you. But you can be stubborn enough that, well, you might be able to see this thing through to the end.”
“You’re afraid, aren’t you?” Margo asks in a quiet voice.
His lips slightly part at the words, but no sound come out. He simply stares off in space as a single fairy makes her way down from the others and floats in front of his face. “Yes, I’m afraid,” he eventually says.
Margo leans in so that her lips are next to his ear. “You have to be brave, too.”
His tone changes. “There’s more to it than bravery, love.”
Margo sits down next to him in the soft grass and points her finger out to the lone fairy. She lands on the tip of her index finger and stands gracefully, stretching her tiny arms above her head.
“I have you and Ian, you have me and Ian, and Ian has the two of us.” The fairy propels herself into the sky. “Let’s take it one day at a time, and promise to protect each other until the end.”
He does not speak.
“Call me ‘love’ again,” she whispers, crouching down in front of him.
“I’ll be with you through all of this, love.” His voice is soothing. “Until the end.”
The walk back to the Witch’s house seems much quicker. Margo wraps herself tightly in her coat. Her eyes grow heavy and she longs to slip back under her blanket and into a deep sleep. She was not prepared, however, to be greeted by the emblazoned bonfire.
“Guess we weren’t as sneaky as we hoped,” Cameron mutters.
They slosh their way out of the creek and cross the field.
“There you are!” Ian shouts furiously. “Where have you been? We were about to start up a search party.”
Cameron holds up his hands defensively. “I was just showing Margo the fairies.”
The Witch stands calmly at the threshold of her house.
“The fairies?” Ian says. He sounds as if something is lodged in the back of his throat. “You risk taking her out in the woods with t
he Beast wandering around, for fairies?”
“As you can see,” says Margo, “nothing happened.”
Ian eyes her skeptically. “Nothing?”
“Nothing,” Cameron confirms.
“I don’t get you two sometimes….” Ian mumbles. He shakes his head at the ground.
“What are you doing up anyway?” Cameron asks.
“I had a vision dee girl stormed off,” the Witch speaks up. “I awoke to find you missing, and asked Ian if he knew where you’d gone off to.”
Ian’s jaw clenches. “Just don’t wander off anymore.”
“We’re fine,” Margo repeats, taking a step closer.
The stars still swim in the purple sky above. It is too early to be considered morning, but late enough not necessarily go back to sleep. And with the others alert, it seems Margo and Cameron aren’t going to get the additional sleep they desperately need. The Witch returns inside to reheat the prior night’s stew while the three of them gather around the bonfire.
“Don’t worry about them,” Cameron whispers.
Margo forces a smile, secretly hating their first date ended so abruptly.
Ian keeps his back to them, facing out into the black forest as if searching for something. His two swords are already strapped to his back in a crisscross. Muscles tense. He remains still, fists clenched at his sides as he watches the night woods.
“What’s up with him?” Margo asks. “Another deer?”
Cameron pulls Margo toward the house. “Don’t know,” he says, though he doesn’t seem to really be focusing on her.
Margo’s stomach twists, letting out another growl.
“Go eat,” he orders.
She stares at him, worried by his and Ian’s behavior.
“We’ll be there in a sec,” he assures her. “I just want to have a talk with him first.”
Margo pauses. “You’d tell me if something was wrong, right?”
His jaw clenches. “Of course.”
Chapter Nineteen: Destiny Despised
“Can you help me?” It is the first time Margo has been alone with the Witch, so she takes advantage of the opportunity.
“I can try my best,” she says, her accent thick as ever.
“We came here for guidance. I’m the New Mark, yeah, but have no idea what I’m expected to do. And so far no one can tell me where to even start. I’m just expected to figure out how to...save the world”
“Dee task is difficult. Your marks,” she says holding out her hand.
Margo holds out her arms as she once had what seemed like ages ago for Nick. The Witch places her hands above her marks with her fingers moving like dancing spider’s legs up and down her arms. Margo isn’t quite sure what she’s doing, but hopes she’s searching out the meaning of them.
“Marks are tricky things,” she finally says. “Each original is different, each unique. Like a fingerprint, your mark is your own. But,” she pauses placing her rough hand on Margo’s left arm, “if you wish, you may leave your ‘fingerprint’ on anything you desire.”
Margo slides her arm out from the Witch’s hand, unsure how to react.
“I’m not looking to pass my mark on. I just want to get us out of here….”
“And so you shall, Margo Grisby. With dee right direction, you shall….”
Margo had hoped to have been shown that direction, but first…. “Nick said you could translate these marks.”
The Witch’s eyes dart between the marks and Margo’s face. “Nick said dat, did he?” Her lips crack as quiet laughter breaks through. “Translate an ancient script like dis, without da proper research available? I never could depict dee meaning of his marks. So why would he assume I could do so with yours?” The last question sounds directed to herself.
“So this trip was a waste, then?” Margo snorts.
“If it’s translation you seek, yes.”
The short statement stings. They’d traveled so far, fought through so much to make it here, and to find out it was for nothing…
“But,” she continues, “what you need more dan translation is direction.”
She immediately captured Margo’s attention again.
“Translating da marks will do little when it comes to escaping Jamyria, I can almost guarantee dat. It’s a nudge in dee right direction you need.” The frustration builds as Margo remembers Nick saying the exact same thing when he sent them to the Witch. And to discover he knew the marks couldn’t be translated all along….
“What do I have to do?” Margo asks through gritted teeth.
“Begin in dee castle. From da things I’ve studied of dis world, everything seems to fall back to the main globe — dee Queen’s larger one. It brings da people on dee outside into dis world. Destroy it.”
“Where in the castle is it?” Margo asks, relieved to gain some momentum in the conversation.
“Always by her side. Always…”
Cameron and Ian suddenly sling open the door laughing together. Margo’s spirit lifts as Cameron crosses over to sit next to her. She doesn’t ask what happened with Ian, who helps himself to more stew. It feels like a group of friends gathered around a dinner table again. The Witch remains silent in the corner, simply watching their interactions, until after some time she stands and clears her throat.
“I have important messages to share.” She crosses the room to stand before the fire. “Dese messages are from my sightings. Things you must always hold close to dee heart. Remember dem, recite dem, and do not ignore dem — it may cost you your life.”
The three of them glance between each other.
“Ian,” she says placing her tan hand upon his shoulder. “Hold on to what you lose.”
His eyes narrow. “If I lose it, how will I hold onto it?”
“Cameron,” she continues without acknowledging Ian’s question. Her face grows cold as her green eyes lock with Cameron’s. “Abandon love, so dat you can bite your tongue.”
Margo feels a shiver roll down her back. Did this woman just tell Cameron to break up with her?
“And, Margo, trust who shouldn’t be dere for you to trust.” She takes her seat once more and repeats, “Remember dem, do not ignore dem.”
The words flood her mind: abandon love, trust who she shouldn’t, what’s lost….
“I see your future, Mark,” she continues. “Your path is painted in blood. And you hold dee paintbrush on your hip.” She gestures to the sword Margo now wears. “I see death caused by you. Much death, I might add. But it’s all right, yes, dose who die will be all right. She is stronger dan you realize, Cameron. Many will stand in her way, and all of dem will fall.”
“You — I’m not — I’m not some murderer!” Margo splutters.
“Not yet,” the Witch provokes. “Dis world is your happy place now, but you are da new leader. And you will lead us to massacre. Many will die. Even some you love.” Her smile turns wicked.
“That’s enough.” Ian’s voice is firm.
Margo hadn’t realized she was digging her nails into her palms until she relaxes her hands. Some she loves will die…? Her eyes dart to Cameron once more.
The Witch leans away, a cocky expression upon her face. “For now you are a happy girl floating along in dis world. Isn’t dat right?”
“What…are you talking about?”
“Dey want you to help dem escape, but for you, Margo Grisby, dis is your escape. Tell me, what do you run from in da Real World. What makes you love dis world more dan dat one?”
“I —”
“You are hiding from something, am I right? What do you hide?”
Margo looks at Cameron for help until it is too much to bear. Nick was wrong; this woman doesn’t care about them. He knowingly sent them to disaster.
“I quit,” Margo says suddenly, jumping to her feet. She grabs her backpack and begins stuffing belongings back in it.
The Witch laughs. “You cannot escape who you are. It doesn’t work dat way. Isn’t dat right, Ian?”
&
nbsp; His jaw clenches.
“Do you know what I think?” says Margo, shaking Cameron’s hand off her shoulder. “I think you’re a crazy lady who’s been alone in the middle of the forest for too long. You’re insane, and when you finally do get out of this world, you’ll be locked away for the rest of your life — immortality or not!”
The Witch’s face warms slightly. She looks as if she pities Margo. “Dis is your destiny, child,” she simply states.
Margo nearly loses her step.
“Ah, I see…. You’ve lost your light. It has burned out.”
She places a hand on Margo’s. A burst of memories flash through her mind. Kylie…
“I am truly sorry to see dis. But I think it’s time you realize dat you don’t need a light anymore. Not when dere is already so much light within yourself.”
Margo snatches her hand away and opens her mouth to retort, but she realizes it isn’t worth the fight. “I have to get out of here,” she mumbles. “I have to leave.”
She slings her bag over her shoulder and disappears behind the door.
“Margo, wait!” Cameron shouts following after her.
The sounds of his pleas fade leaving nothing but the quiet of Ian and the Witch’s breathing.
“Well,” the Witch says. She groans as she lowers herself in her seat. “What are you gonna do?”
The corner of Ian’s lip pulls up. “Lead them to the castle, of course.”
“Very good, yes.”
*
“Margo!” shouts Cameron. “Margo, stop! Just stop for a minute!”
Her chest has a stitch. The woods thin half a mile south of where they met the Beast the day before. She slows her pace, eyes darting about the perimeter and freeze. For a split second she swears she sees the silhouette of a person. Or is it a trick of the early morning light? The stars have settled, and her eyes are still adjusting after the disappearance of the pulsing light.
The sound of shuffling gravel gives her a start. Cameron skids to a stop behind her. She blinks hard and the shape is no longer there.
“Can we talk about —”
“Give it a rest, man!” Ian apparently has caught up with them.
Jamyria: The Entering (The Jamyria Series Book 1) Page 22
