by Carol Oates
Triona ignored him and wrapped her arms around me. Her body trembled slightly, and her heart beat brutally. “I was so worried. I can’t lose you too.” She pulled back and held my face in her hands. Her lips parted, and I thought she might say something else, but they snapped shut. Triona turned her attention to Amanda, hugging her too. Amanda forced out a shocked breath at the vigor of Triona’s greeting but patted her back.
“Where are others?” I asked.
“Samuel and Annice are in their room on a call to Joshua,” John responded. “Annice—she’s not doing so great.”
I nodded in understanding. “By the way, nice shack you have here.”
John blushed and dragged in a breath. He scratched his cheek and grimaced. “It’s hard to explain.”
I threw my hands wide and chuckled deeply. “Hey, take a look around. You’re in good company, dude.”
John shook his head and smiled with a hint of resignation. “I suppose.”
Triona released Amanda and stepped back, turning her attention to Guinevere and Merlin. Guinevere ducked her head in a show of respect and shifted aside, prodding Merlin.
Triona blinked, her gaze traveling up and down the length of his body. Now that he’d lost his stoop, Merlin was taller than I had realized and more lean than scrawny. His cobalt-gray hair was still filthy, and he smelled of stale air and burnt wood, but I spied something else in him, something powerful and unrelenting.
“My queen.” Merlin lowered his eyes a moment.
“You can call me Triona. Everyone does.” She smiled, uneasy.
“Of course,” he agreed. His shoulder twitched, and one eye narrowed for a split-second. It must have taken him great effort to appear so calm and in control.
Triona spotted his discomfort, as well as his apparent inability to make eye contact. Her forehead puckered into a frown. “Can you help us?”
Merlin hummed, his gaze slid to Guinevere standing beside him with her arms crossed over her chest. She wore a guarded expression, giving away nothing to indicate her opinion one way or the other.
“Forgive me. I remain confused. I know you seek the Philosopher’s Stone, and I will assist you.”
Triona’s bottom lip quivered, and her eyes glazed. Tension visibly slid from her body. Archú padded up beside us and nudged his way under Merlin’s arm, his head tilted to the side seeming to join in the conversation. Emma came up to the other side of Amanda, her bow and quiver in her arms.
“I must warn you, Triona, Queen of Guardians, returning your consort will come with much sacrifice, and you must look deep within yourself before you set upon this course.”
She scowled. “I don’t understand.”
Amanda slipped her hand into mine and squeezed. John shifted closer to Triona, settling an air of strength and protection around her. Triona continued to glare at Merlin, oblivious to John’s scowl.
Merlin’s eyes clouded, and his eyebrows pulled together. His back curled, sagging his shoulders, and I knew we’d lost him again.
Triona reached out and touched his arm. He jerked back, cradling his hand as if the contact burned him. The dog whined by his side, its ears flicking in confusion.
Guinevere sidled up beside him. “Excuse us. It’s been a long journey. We require rest, and I think Merlin could benefit from a hot bath.”
Warring emotions flickered in Triona’s expression. I knew my sister, and her tolerance wasn’t infinite. She didn’t want to give Merlin time to rest. She wanted answers, and if I was honest, I did too. We had a life to get back to in Camden.
“I’ll show you to rooms,” Emma offered, obviously sensing the shift in mood.
Triona flinched, as if preparing to stop them but thought twice of it and allowed them to pass. Guinevere leaned into her and whispered.
“He will assist us.”
Triona nodded and sighed.
“Speaking of warnings,” Emma began as they walked away. “We’re roughing it. There’s no household staff about, and the house was closed up when we got here.”
John rolled his eyes at her remarks. “On the same subject with a more serious note, I’ve also given the grounds staff a holiday. We can manage the house, but there’s only so long I can keep them away without someone growing suspicious. There’s working farmland as part of the estate.”
“How long?” I asked.
John shrugged and rubbed his palm over his stubbled jawline. “Three weeks maybe. A month at best. We have a couple of horses and the sheep. The horses are gone to a local stable, and two of my men are moving the sheep to a nearby farm.”
I forced a harsh breath out through my nose. I really hoped we wouldn’t need to be here for a month. “Thank you.”
John attempted a smirk, but only one side of his lips turned up, making it appear unnatural. “Hey, no need. I don’t want any more unnecessary complications. The last thing I want is the folks working here to see something they shouldn’t.”
“You should grab some sleep too,” Triona suggested.
Amanda yawned on cue and attempted to stifle it with her hand. “I’m so sorry,” she exclaimed, chagrined.
“I’m sorry too,” I added, backing her up. “We both need sleep.”
Chapter 15
Dream a Little Dream
“BEN, ARE YOU UP?” Amanda shouted up the stairs, ripping away the last remnants of sleep. “You’ll be late.”
“I’m up. I’m up,” I called back groggily and rubbed my eyes, bringing the room into focus. I tried to recall my dream, but the images were long gone, leaving only a drowsy sensation of losing something.
I threw back the covers on our restored sleigh bed and forced myself to sit. My bones creaked and settled. “That can’t be good,” I mumbled to myself, rubbing my stomach as I stood. I looked down at the soft pouch starting to form over the waistband of my cotton pants and promised to make time for the gym this week. I was still in good shape for a guy in his early forties. It wasn’t as if I was ever loaded with muscle like my buddy Jonathan. I’d had to train damn hard to make the grade for the team in school, but gravity was fighting back these days.
Dull light signaled the end of winter in Camden and gave everything in our bedroom a gray tint, despite the open drapes. Annoying and persistent rain tinkled against the window. I hoped the loose roof tile would hold out. I didn’t relish facing Amanda if rain leaked into the attic again.
“Ben!”
“I’m up!” I shouted. I remembered a time I had to drag Amanda from bed in the morning. Although it was a different bed, and our room looked nothing like it did back then. It had been a long time since I had to dig through disorganized boxes of fabric swatches to find my underwear. Not a swatch in sight. Now, she kept everything contained in her office/guestroom or at the showroom in town.
The floor to the bathroom was cold, but the aroma of bacon and coffee wafting from the kitchen was enough to keep me going. With any luck, there’d still be some left by the time I made it downstairs. I pinched my eyes again, trying to focus on the writing along the side of the toothpaste tube. How much more time did I have before conceding the need for glasses? My reflection showed a grown-up, complete with crow’s feet and speckles of gray in my dark red hair and stubble. Where had the time gone? It seemed like yesterday Amanda and I were fresh out of school, crazy in love, and saying goodbye as she went off to design college while I started my apprenticeship.
“Hey!” I raised my arms in the air and retreated out of the way of the bundle of teenage energy thundering down the upstairs hallway when I stepped out of my bedroom.
“Sorry, Dad.” Megan smiled ruefully, batting her long dark eyelashes. I frowned.
Jeez, every one of my girls has me wrapped around their finger.
Megan slung her school bag over her shoulder with her jacket bunched up in her arms. She paused one step down the stairs and turned to me, scooping strawberry blond hair behind her ear. Her head tilted to the side. I knew that look. Of our two daughters, Megan, our fifteen
-year-old, was most like her mom. She scrunched up her delicate nose, hesitating.
“Spit it out, peanut.”
“Aunt Triona said I could visit at midterm, but I need to ask you and Mom.” The words came out so fast, I had to concentrate to keep up. “I have my Christmas and birthday money, and I’ve found a good deal on a flight, and you said the trip would be okay if I kept my grades up. It won’t cost you or Mom a cent—”
“Take a breath, peanut.” I laughed. “I know what we said, and we can talk about it at dinner.”
“Is that a yes?” Her eyes widened hopefully.
I kept my expression neutral, knowing Amanda wanted us to tell her together.
Megan squealed and bounced up the step as though she’d been flung upward from a trampoline. She hurled her arms around my shoulders. “Thank you, Dad.”
She was gone before I had a chance to argue. I groaned and headed toward the kitchen to face my wife.
Amanda was rinsing dishes before loading them into the dishwasher. Her long hair fell in loose curls to just below the shoulders of her shimmering, purple blouse. I allowed my eyes to travel down from her slim waist and pert behind to where shapely legs peeked out of a knee-length pencil skirt. She completed her work attire with high heels. Warmth tightened in my stomach at the sight of her. How the hell did I get so damn lucky?
“You’re doing it again,” she said, and I heard the smile in her soft voice.
“Where’s Mel?” I asked about our elder daughter.
“Gone already. Some major drama at the school newspaper.”
I grinned and slithered up behind Amanda, skimming my hands over her hips. She laughed and turned in my arms, planting a light kiss on my lips. “Megan flew out of here like her hair was on fire. You told her didn’t you?” Amanda accused, narrowing her eyes so tiny creases appeared at the corner.
Amanda tossed her dishtowel on the counter of our large kitchen. She always called this room the heart of our home. I supposed it was. There was a part of all of us in this room. I’d made the cherrywood cabinets and the long oval table surrounded by high backed chairs. Amanda decorated, spending years picking out just the right colors and the right fabric for the corner sofa that separated the family area. School reports and schedules covered the brushed chrome fridge, and lines had been etched into the frame of the pantry door—one for every year of the girls’ lives. Family photos covered the walls, along with merit award and other keepsakes.
“She beat it out of me.” I chuckled, pulling her closer.
Amanda leaned back and fixed me with mock disapproval. “Ben Pryor, you are hopeless at keeping secrets.”
I pressed forward, pouting my lips, and Amanda smiled, relaxing in my arms. Her delicate sunflower and vanilla scent surrounded both of us. She cupped my neck and drew me down to her height, brushing her mouth over mine. I shifted and dragged my lips over her jaw and down her neck, hot blood pulsing below my tongue as it swirled a light circle over her skin. My groan vibrated against her, and I felt both our heart rates picking up.
“Ben,” Amanda sighed breathlessly. “I’m late for a meeting.”
I hummed in acknowledgment and nibbled her earlobe as my hands cupped her ass.
She pushed me away, laughing, and her groomed eyebrows pulled together. The lines above her nose were deeper than they used to be. Her smile faded, and a look of confusion flittered across her expression.
“What is it?”
Amanda shook her head and retreated from my arms. “Nothing. I just got the strangest feeling I’d forgotten to tell you something.”
I snorted a laugh, plucking a piece of bacon from a plate on the counter. “And you say I’m showing my age.”
She smirked and swatted my ass. Amanda picked up her black trench coat from the back of one of the chairs. “I know you’re worried about Megan going to England alone, but Christopher will look out for her.”
I scowled thinking about my seventeen-year-old nephew with too much money and not half enough sense to go with it.
“You’re too hard on him. John and Triona raised a good boy. He adores Megan—the last thing he’d ever do is lead her astray.”
Amanda was right, despite my grumbling. I’d probably always been overprotective. I had to admit—I still held a slight grudge against my sister’s husband for keeping her in Europe all these years. I worried Megan liked it there a little too much, and I’d lose her too. Mel already planned to study in Scotland.
Amanda reached up on her toes and kissed my cheek, breaking into my thoughts. “Are you still meeting Jonathan later?” I nodded. “Good. Jennifer is going to pop over to catch up before they head back to Boston.”
She leaned in for another kiss, and I turned my face quickly, catching it with my lips instead and deepening it to something beyond a peck. Her soft lips molded to mine and parted, releasing a sweet breath. Tendrils of love glided outward from the center of my chest and wrapped every part of me. My tongue swept out to meet hers, and my fingers curled up into her hair. Amanda smiled against my mouth when my fingers strayed to the top pearly button on her blouse.
“What has gotten into you today?” She fumbled with my fingers, preventing me from getting any further with undressing her.
Amanda’s cheeks were flushed pink and glowing when she stepped back again, her hair disheveled. She glanced up from under her eyelashes, straightening her skirt. “Give me a rain check for later, okay?”
I adjusted my work pants and stepped closer. “Absolutely.”
Amanda blew me a kiss and grabbed her shoulder bag, placing a small umbrella inside though the rain had stopped. She went out the door with a final wave before I spotted her keys still out on the counter.
I snatched them up and flung the door open to dash after her. My breath caught in my throat, and my eyes peeled wide. Every muscle in my body seized as I teetered precariously on the edge of utter blackness. There was nothing there. Nothing at all. The outside world didn’t exist…
I woke up to an agonizing pain in my chest and a shock that almost toppled me out of bed. The sheets around me were soaked thorough, probably why Amanda had rolled away from me at some point and curled up on the opposite side of the massive bed. She mumbled something about corduroy but didn’t wake. I sat up, still panting, and wiped my hand down my drenched chest, overwhelmed with a sensation of heart-wrenching loss. Tears pricked my eyes as reality raced back. When I closed them, I saw the faces of my children and their friends, and Triona’s handsome son with her dark red hair and John’s brown eyes. I sucked in a choking sob, biting my knuckles to restrain the wail of grief threatening to tear from my lungs. How could this be? How?
I slid from the bed, coiling up on the chilly wooden floor. The despair was relentless, and one side of my mind battled to accept it had all been a dream. Yet my heart and soul couldn’t be convinced. I had been there when my children were born, held them, and watched them grow. Those memories were as real as any in my mind. I couldn’t fight the waves of torment assaulting me. All I could do was lie there on the wooden floor and hope it would pass.
Eventually, as an angry tide receding from a shore, the pain eased. Like the coast, the waves left me beaten and bruised by the onslaught. It was nothing physical or measureable, but at the same time, the experience had changed me in a significant way. I smelled magic all over it.
After a blazing hot shower, I found Merlin in the library, a two story room with a mezzanine surrounded by a carved rail. I closed the door and false shelves allowed it to slip into invisibility, leaving a solid wall of aged leather volumes. I thought of Caleb, sparked by his notable absence from our gathering. What I knew of his personality, this room would be exactly the sort of place he’d feel at home. I imagined him sprawled on one of the long, studded leather couches in front of the stone hearth or pouring over his research papers at the desk in front of the diamond leaded windows. In the dream, there was no Caleb. There were no Guardians.
It was still bright out—I’d slept o
nly minutes—but evening threatened over the horizon. Two figures holding swords circled each other down near the edge of the lake to the rear of the house. I recognized their outlines as Triona and John and observed them for a moment. The memory of their wedding and their son lingered in my heart and mind.
Triona had moved to London after school, just as she had planned. She’d met John and, without Caleb in the way, they eventually married. I needed answers. Satisfied they were engaged in a training exercise, I directed my attention back to Merlin sitting forward on one of the couches.
Archú lifted his head from where he lay on a woven rug by the empty hearth and let out a whiny noise, quickly settling back down. Regardless, I approached Merlin with caution. He wore fresh clothes, and his clean hair gleamed the color of mercury, smoothed away from his tanned and scarred face over his shoulders. There was no mistaking the return of his health, and his skin had filled out, giving him a more youthful appearance. In human years, I would have guessed him as late fifties, still the oldest looking Guardian I had ever encountered.
He didn’t seem to notice me at all, too distracted with a large globe on a mahogany stand. He spun the sphere with both hands, rocking back and forth, observing it until it slowed and eventually stopped. Then he spun it again.
“What did you do to me?” I demanded, standing over Merlin and casting the globe in shadow.
Archú’s ears twitched at my tone. Merlin, however, appeared completely unperturbed.
“I gave you a gift,” he said without lifting his head.
I flicked my neck to my shoulder with an audible crack and forced out an exasperated breath. Tension stiffened my muscles, an unmistakable and instinctual call to attack an enemy. “A gift, magic man? Is that what you call the torture you put me through? I don’t know—”
“No!” Merlin roared. The sound thundered unnaturally through the room. “You do not. You do not know anything!”
I recoiled from his cold blue eyes. One moment he was there on the couch, the next his minty breath blew across my face and spittle dampened my skin. He was several inches shorter, but it didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest.
