Dream Under the Hill (Oberon Book 8)

by P. G. Forte

  Oh. That. Marsha nodded contritely. “I know. You’re right, Sam. I’m sorry.” Lisa had told her the very same thing...

  “I’ve been watching you, girlfriend,” Lisa had said. “You have the same problem I used to have, although I would have thought you’d have gotten over it by now. You need to learn to think like a couple. Lucy does. Scout does. But, you? Not so much.”

  “Lucy?” Marsha had protested. “Are you joking? She does not. She’s driven Dan nuts for years by going off on her own.”

  Lisa shook her head. “I didn’t say you had to do everything in tandem. Lucy might act independently at times, but she never forgets that she and Dan have a responsibility to each other. You, on the other hand, only seem to think about Sam when it’s convenient.”

  Now, Marsha leaned across the space that separated her from Sam, she framed his face with her hand and smiled. “I know I need to work on that. And I will. I promise. It’s just that I was alone for so long and– Sam? What’s wrong?”

  An odd, startled expression had flickered across Sam’s face as he gazed at her. He frowned questioningly. “Angel?”

  “What is it, Sam? You look– Oh.” Marsha felt her eyes widen in surprise. Joy – pure, incredulous, unadulterated joy – was cascading through Sam’s mind. She could sense it. But how–?

  She watched, amazed, as he tentatively reached a hand toward her face. And then... oh, sweet heaven. Long before his fingers connected with her skin she felt it, too: a wash of energy, a rush of intention. It’s back. We got it back. “Sam?”

  “Yes,” he breathed softly, blissfully. “Oh, yes. Oh, God, I’ve missed that.” He’d closed his eyes, the better to feel the tingling energy as it flowed between them, when he opened them again, the love that blazed in his gaze stole her breath away.

  Tears streamed down Marsha’s face and she doubted she could have said a word, but she didn’t try. She didn’t need to. She could read his thoughts as clearly as her own, and she suspected that it went both ways. I love you, Sam, she thought as she moved toward him, responding to a summons that he hadn’t voiced.

  Sam pulled her against him and kissed her hard. I love you, too, angel.

  * * *

  The soft, thrumming song of the tree frogs echoed through the forest, blending sweetly with the sound of Chay’s flute. Chenoa looked around her, soaking in the sounds and the smells and the feeling of the woods tonight; and contemplating the group who had gathered at the vortex. It was an odd group and very small—just herself, Chay, Liam and Scout – but it was the group she’d been told to assemble. She didn’t know what they each had to do with the vortex, but maybe she wasn’t meant to know.

  Maybe it was to teach her to be more comfortable with uncertainty.

  If there was one thing she’d learned over the course of the last week, it was that, whether she knew what it was, or not, everything had a purpose, even the mistakes she made. Everything had something to teach her, and not all the lessons were going to be pleasant ones. The big picture was so big, that she would never be able to see all of it, never know all the why’s and the wherefore’s. It was enough for her to trust the process and do her part.

  Take last night’s ceremony, for example. She thought she wouldn’t care if she lost all her medicine, she thought it would be a relief. Until it came too close to happening. She’d been up all night afterwards, trying to restore her tools to their former state, only to realize, at last, that she couldn’t. And, finally, that she wasn’t supposed to. It was not the nature of a river to flow upstream, or even to stay in one place.

  The same with the vortex. It could be healed, but not restored to what it was. It would be different after tonight. It was likely they all would be.

  “Aho,” she murmured quietly, when Chay’s song came to an end and the last note had faded. Then she placed the bowl of her pipe against her heart, and stood facing East.

  A hush seemed to fall over the forest, there was not a rustle, not even from the wind. She could feel the others watching her, listening, waiting for her to begin. First she would call in the directions, then she would make her offerings. She would lead them in prayer and, together, they would heal what had been broken, they would cleanse what had been defiled, they would put straight what had been altered. And in the process, they, too, would be healed and cleansed and realigned with their original purpose.

  “Wabun. Spirit of the East, Can you see that I am lost? Bring me your vision. Open my eyes that I may see my path, clear before me. Shawdonese. Spirit of the South. Can you feel my pain? Bring me the warmth of your love. Open my heart that I may heal. Mudjekeewis. Spirit of the West. Can you hear my prayers? Bring me your words of comfort and wisdom. Open my ears that I may hear the truth, loosen my tongue that I may speak it. Waboose. Spirit of the North. You who know all there is to know, do you know me? Bring me your knowledge. Open my mind. Help me to find my place on the Great Wheel...

  Chapter Forty One

  This is the day the Lord has made;

  let us be glad and rejoice in it.

  Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good,

  for His mercy endures forever.

  Gradual of the Mass

  For Easter Sunday

  Easter brunch was always an especially festive occasion at the Temple Garden, and this year, more than ever, it seemed. Brent had imported fresh leis and haku wreaths for his guests and the scents of ginger, tuberose and mock orange filled the air.

  Chenoa poured coconut syrup over her plate of banana-pineapple pancakes. It was her second helping, and it contained more calories than she cared to think about. But she was famished this morning. She was exhausted – from too little sleep and too much work. She was also feeling more content and more peaceful than she had in a long, long time. So what were a few extra calories, she thought, as she dug into her breakfast happily.

  She was aware of all the happy couples gathered around her: Brent and Ruth, Chay and Erin, Jasmine and Brandon, Maya and Yahto. And even though she was the only un-paired person present at their table, she wasn’t bothered by that, either. It wasn’t that she’d finally realized she didn’t need a partner to complete her – she’d always known that. It was more that she’d come to realize that it would happen when it was supposed to happen, when the time was right.

  Until then, she was content to wait.

  Life was a journey, after all, not a destination. And this, right here, was an interesting portion of the trip. It might not be her favorite part, but, on the other hand, it wasn’t the worst of it, either.

  * * *

  “So. How’s the soup?” Scout asked from her perch at the end of Nick’s bed.

  He sipped another spoonful and nodded. “It’s good. Like always. Tell Lucy I said thanks.”

  “Oh, it’s not Lucy’s,” Scout replied, smiling sweetly. “I made it.”

  Yeah, right. Nick chuckled in amusement. He’d told her he would always believe her, no matter how much she lied, but this was carrying the joke too far. “Sure you did. With Lucy’s help, right?”

  Scout blinked in surprise. “Why, yes, Nick, I guess that’s true. She answered the phone when I called her. She gave me her recipe when I asked for it. So, I suppose she did help, at that.”

  Nick put down his spoon and stared at his wife. “She gave you her recipe? You’re making that up!” Hell, he’d been pestering his cousin for years for her minestrone recipe. With no luck.

  Scout’s eyes widened, her smile glimmered brighter. “You don’t believe me?”

  “You can’t cook,” he reminded her.

  Scout nodded. “Well, I grant you, that has been the case, up ‘til now. But I think I may have discovered a hidden talent for it.” She gestured at the bowl. “To be honest, this wasn’t that hard.”

  A faint sense of having lost his footing gripped Nick. “I’m not sure I like this.”

  “What? The soup? I thought you said it was good?”

  “No, not the soup. You. Cooking. That’s my job.”<
br />
  Scout’s eyebrows raised. She gazed at him, pityingly. “Well, then maybe you should hurry up and get your butt out of this hospital bed and back into the kitchen where it belongs.”

  Gladly, Nick thought, as soon as I can.

  “I miss you,” Scout said quietly. “I miss us.”

  “I miss us, too,” Nick replied, putting the bowl down and pushing the tray table to the side. He opened his arms and Scout crawled up from the bottom of the bed and settled against him.

  His arms closed around her and he held her tight. He sighed in contentment. “Thank you,” he whispered a few minutes later.

  Scout looked up at him. “For what?”

  “For bringing me back. For coming to get me.”

  Scout’s eyes narrowed. “I used magic, you know.”

  Nick nodded. “I know.”

  “I was afraid you’d be mad.”

  “I could never be mad at you,” Nick told her. She blinked at him, skeptically, until he added, “Well, not for long. I love you, you know. I’ve always loved you.”

  Scout sighed happily as she laid her head back on his shoulder. “I’ve always loved you, too.”

  Time passed. Shadows drifted steadily across the wall. For a very long time, Nick felt no need to move or speak. Until, finally, a question floated up from the depths of his mind. “So, what’s the deal with the soup, anyway?”

  Scout gazed up at him. “The soup?”

  “Yeah. The recipe. What’s in it?”

  “Well, I can’t tell you that, Nick. It’s a secret.”

  “I know it’s a secret. But–”

  “She made me promise.”

  “She made you promise not to tell me? C’mon, no way.”

  “Absolutely. She was very specific about that part.”

  Nick stared at his wife in disbelief. “Scout–”

  “I’m not going to be the one to cross your cousin, Nick. Do you know how angry she’d be if I broke my promise?”

  “Do you know how angry I’ll be if you don’t tell me?”

  Scout smiled, rested her head once more against his chest and nodded. “Yes,” she sighed happily. “But you’ll get over it.”

  * * *

  “Be careful, Adam admonished as he followed Sinead up the stairs to their apartment on the mansion’s top floor. “Don’t trip.” Between the baby and the diaper bag and Sinead’s suitcase, he was at least one hand shy of what he needed to have.

  “I won’t,” Sinead sighed, sounding tired. “It’s good to be back.”

  Adam nodded. It was good to have her back. The mansion had never felt so empty as it had in the last two days. Although Sinead was only the biggest part of what was missing.

  A minute later they were standing in their living room. Sinead frowned as she looked around her. “Something’s different,” she observed. “You’ve changed something. What?”

  Adam sighed as he put the baby in her carrier down on the couch and crossed to the bar to get himself a drink. “You don’t want to know.” There was only one good thing about the other night’s disaster. Asafoetida was also used to banish ghosts. Apparently it worked real well in that regard, too. His grandfather’s spirit had finally been driven from the place. Adam had gained his freedom at a very heavy price, but he had gained it.

  Sinead frowned harder. “Adam, of course I want to know. What is it? What’s missing?”

  “Magic,” he replied. “It’s gone. During the ceremony the other night your sister used... a special kind of incense. It removes any kind of supernatural influence from the atmosphere. It did a good job, don’t you think?”

  He sipped his wine thinking it had never tasted so bitter.

  “Well, can you fix it?” Sinead asked as she settled on the couch next to the baby.

  “I suppose,” Adam answered reluctantly. He’d been trying not to think of that. He’d been so tempted...

  “Well, is it really involved? Would it take a long time or something?”

  “No.” Adam sighed. “Not really.”

  “Do you have to wait for a special time, or anything?”

  “No.” He frowned at her curiously. “Where are you going with this, anyway?”

  “Nowhere, really. I was just wondering why you hadn’t taken care of it already. What are you waiting for?”

  Adam dropped his gaze to the glass in his hand. He swirled his wine moodily. “I told you I wouldn’t do that anymore.”

  Sinead sighed. “And I told you, I didn’t expect you not to. Honestly, Adam, don’t you listen?”

  “Sinead–”

  “I’m not afraid anymore. I think it was Gregg that I was running from, anyway, not magic itself. Besides, I think that’s partly why I was drawn to you. I think I sensed that you were someone who could protect me from him. Although, I admit, I didn’t realize that was the case.”

  “So, what are you saying?” Adam asked, clutching his glass so tightly, he thought the stem might snap in two. Anger and fear coiled in his gut. “Now that he’s gone, you don’t need me anymore?”

  “Of course not.” Sinead gestured at the baby. “How can you even ask something like that? We have a child now. We’re a family.”

  “And is that the only reason why you’re still with me?” Adam asked softly. “Because we have a child together?”

  Annoyance sparked in Sinead’s eyes. “You know, for a smart man, Adam, you say some remarkably stupid things. Do I really need to tell you again that I love you? Is that what you need to hear?”

  “It wouldn’t hurt,” Adam replied, feeling faint with relief. It wouldn’t hurt at all, in fact.

  “I love you,” Sinead said, her expression softening. “I could have stayed on the astral plane, you know. There was nothing stopping me. But I chose to come back. I came back to be with you and with Tori, not because I wasn’t hurt and angry – because I was. But because I love you, in spite of everything. And I didn’t want to miss the chance to have a home and a life with you.” She smiled at him, sadly. “So, is that clear enough for you?”

  Adam nodded, almost too overcome to speak. He took her hand and kissed it, then sat down on the couch and held her close. “I love you, too. And I’m sorry I hurt you. It wasn’t my intention.”

  “I know,” Sinead sighed as she closed her eyes and leaned against him. “But, we have a whole lifetime ahead of us now, Adam. Lots and lots of time. I’m sure you’ll find a way to make it up to me.”

  Adam smiled. “I’ll do my best.”

  * * *

  Cara started to shake when the door of her room was pushed open. No more, she begged silently. No more pain. No more tests. No more ‘procedures’. Just go away. Whoever you are, please, please go away. In her mind, she was screaming the words, but with her jaw wired shut she could barely even whimper. She sighed in relief when she saw who it was. Liam. At last. But as he came closer, her one, unbandaged eye slitted open a little wider in surprise. He looks terrible.

  Liam’s face was bruised and swollen, maybe almost as bad as her own. Not that she could really tell how bad her own face looked, she couldn’t ask and no one had thought to bring her a mirror. She didn’t think she could look much worse than he did. At least, she hoped she didn’t.

  “Hey,” Liam said softly and at the sound of his voice she felt the tears well up. She’d been so afraid that she would never see him again. So afraid that something horrible might have happened to him. “How are you feeling?”

  So much better now that you’re here. That was what she wanted to say, what she would have said, if she could have said anything at all.

  Liam smiled. “I know. Stupid question, huh?”

  Cara tried to shake her head. No. Not stupid. Not stupid at all.

  “I brought you a present,” he told her, lifting a cheerful looking gift bag into her line of sight, so she could see it. He eyed the bandages on her hands for a moment and then asked, “Want to see what it is?”

  Cara blinked, hoping he’d understand that it was the only way
she had of saying yes. Apparently he did. He slipped his hand in the bag and pulled out a book. Cara read the title in surprised disbelief. Peter Pan.

  If she could have sighed, she would have. She couldn’t remember ever feeling more relieved. She’d felt so trapped here, imprisoned in the bandages and the wires and the casts. She’d felt as though she’d been locked in a dark room for days. Now, it was as though a window had been opened and light was flooding in.

  She didn’t even have to speak: Liam knew what she was feeling. He knew what she was thinking. He understood.

  And that was enough. For now, that was enough.

  “I don’t know if anyone’s told you what’s been going on,” Liam said as he pulled a chair up beside her bed and sat down. “But Gregg’s in prison. And he’s going to stay there for a long, long time. He’s never going to hurt you again.”

  Good, Cara thought. She’d been worried about that, too; so afraid that – any moment – she might wake to find him standing over her. Grinning. Looking to finish the job he’d begun.

  “I’m just so, so sorry,” Liam whispered.

  Sorry? Cara looked at him in surprise. Sorry about what?

  “I should have protected you. I should have gotten you out of there – weeks ago. That very first night. I should have realized that you were in danger. But I was selfish and stupid. And instead of helping you, I hurt you. I used you.” He looked at her, so sadly that Cara thought her heart might break. “Can you ever forgive me?”

  Cara’s throat worked, she tried to sob and couldn’t. She couldn’t forgive him, because there was nothing she blamed him for. He’d tried to warn her, but she hadn’t listened.

  She wanted, so much, to tell him how she felt, but she had no words, and trying to think was making her head ache even worse than before. They stared at each other for a moment, and then the door was pushed open again. Cara blinked. Seth? What next?

  Seth halted just inside the door frowning at Liam. “Oh, hey, I didn’t know you had company,” he said, shifting his gaze toward Cara. “I’ll come back.”