The Reunion

by Michelle E Lowe

  He wished he were able to give her more answers. He simply didn’t have any ideas. The best assurance he could offer was reaching across the table and taking her by the hand.

  “Whatever it is, we’ll find it,” he said in earnest.

  She clutched his hand tightly in both of hers, sending warm shudders throughout his body. “I know we will.”

  They mounted up and headed into the forest. They traveled on for a long while and encountered nothing unusual until they came across an old man sitting on a pile of rocks under looming trees. He sat as if he was pondering his life. He was dressed in torn clothing stitched together with thick thread. He clutched a tall walking stick. Strange little patterns were carved into it. His lengthy silvery hair and beard had many braids, with feathers and small bird bones tied in. He was also as scrawny as a twig.

  “Is he lost?” Taisia whispered as Pierce halted the horse.

  The living antique reached out without so much as even looking their way.

  “No,” Pierce sighed. “He’s after money.”

  Pierce dismounted and walked up to him while reaching into his jacket pocket for a few guldens. He dropped the coins into the man’s dirty palm. “Here you are, ol’ boy.”

  The man emitted a musky, earthy scent.

  “Do you need a lift someplace?”

  The relic said nothing. Pierce twisted around to Taisia and shrugged.

  “Maybe he’s hungry,” she offered.

  “Aye.” He bent over with his hands on his knees and asked loudly, “Are you hungry?”

  To this, the old timer slowly craned his neck. Pierce swore he heard his bones groaning like a bending tree branch. The man flicked his eyes up with a sparkle of youth twinkling in them, capturing Pierce’s attention instantly. He became engulfed in those irises that forced him deep inside his own mind. There, he came across memories of events from long ago. Happy memories such as his childhood with the familia, and then to other memories—darker recollections such as the nasty business he had gone through with Volker Jäger, and what the bastard had made him do. Pierce tried freeing himself from the strange hold inside his mind. He relaxed a little when more baffling images emerged. He was stumbling through a very large foreign city, surrounded by fast-moving machines. It was very cold, and his side hurt greatly. His rib had been broken, but recently healed by someone. A Trickster. That sneaky cur! The Trickster had approached Pierce in Blackpool a few years back, telling Pierce he was in danger and that he needed to hide Pierce away. He had been a dandily-dressed cocker, with feminine features, wearing a rabbit fur hat, decorated with lively ostrich feathers. Those memories passed him by, fading into the pits of forgetfulness as he moved on to the memory of asking the elderly man if he was hungry. Taisia said his name. “Pierce.”

  The world came back to him. He blinked and shook his head. His queer journey had disappeared. He went over to Taisia to retrieve the small bundle of food they had taken from the tavern.

  “Here you are.” Pierce turned, but the old man was no longer there. “Bloody hell. Where did he scurry off to?”

  “Who?”

  He looked up at Taisia as if she had gone mad. “The old man.”

  She arched an inquisitive eyebrow at him. “Old man?”

  “Aye. The geezer we were about to give this food to.”

  “You told me you were hungry,” she explained.

  Pierce looked down at the sack he held. He believed she was messing with him. When he tilted his chin up to her, though, he saw no comical look in her expression. She had absolutely no idea what he was talking about.

  There had been an old cocker. He had been sitting over there on those blasted rocks. Pierce reached into his pocket and counted the money inside the coin purse. The guldens were accounted for.

  “Fuckin’ hell?”

  “Are you all right?” Taisia asked.

  Unable to wrap his head around it, he handed the food back up to her. “I’m fine.”

  They rode on, and after a while, their surroundings began changing. The leaves brightened and shined in the glowing sunlight that warmed the air. Flowers were suddenly ever present, and in an array of many colors. The warm breeze gave him renewed energy. It awakened Pierce’s soul and cleared his mind. Everything about the lush area became a height of ecstasy. Every breath granted him the exuberance of a child. The scent of every plant perfumed the air. Even the horse trotted along, seemingly giddy with delight. Pierce felt so alive, he just wanted to run about like some sort of mad drunk.

  “Are we even in the same forest?” Taisia wondered.

  Pierce had doubts himself.

  They kept going until they reached a small, glossy meadow. In the middle of the field was a groove of oddly shaped trees that curved directly over the forest floor and then rose nearly upright into the air. Hundreds of birdhouses hung from their branches. There were so many, and in all different shapes and styles—from simple cottages to elaborate Victorian mansions. All were made of wood. Most were occupied by a family of noisy birds. House sparrows, white wagtails, red robins, wren birds, and blue jays all fluttered to and fro from their little houses, feeding their young or flying off to fetch food for them.

  “Suspended from the tree with the door closed is a house of the smallest,” Taisia recited. “Pierce, I think this is it!”

  * * *

  Rupert Swansea rode on through the forest. He had given the pair their usual ten-minute head start. He had been an excellent tracker even as a child, when he had hunted wild game with his drunk and abusive father. If Rupert had the ability to hunt down a mouse in a field, he could track down Pierce Landcross in the woods.

  He kept on straight and did not stop until he spotted an old man sitting on rocks. Rupert halted his horse.

  Odd that an elderly man would be in the middle of the forest, he thought. Perhaps he lived in a cabin nearby and was merely out for a walk.

  “Oi, duffer, have you seen a man and a woman ride through this way?”

  The woodsman gave no answer, only held out his hand.

  Rupert thought to press on, but experience told him not to snub this old geezer. He rode his horse toward him and offered a few coins. He waited for a response. The elderly man only curled his claw-like fingers around the coins and slowly withdrew his arm, tucking it under his patchy coat. If Rupert were unwise, he would have kicked the bastard’s teeth out. Instead, he pushed on north, feeling the man’s eyes on him.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The Danger Behind You

  Pierce halted the horse, and he and Taisia dismounted.

  “Hope they don’t shite on us,” Pierce said while the birds constantly flew overhead.

  Taisia cringed.

  “You think the next clue is in one of these birdhouses?” he asked, picking feathers up off the ground.

  “I do, but there are so many.”

  Pierce tucked the feathers under the cloth band of his top hat. As he did, he recalled the clue.

  “With the door closed.” He put his hat on. “Search for a birdhouse with a door.”

  They began their search around the bent trees. Dozens of birdhouses hung from each one. Some birdhouses were old and weatherworn to the point that no bird occupied them. Others were sturdy and brightly painted as though they had been built that very day. Whoever had done this had been doing so for years, if not for generations. Even the ground was littered with broken birdhouses that had fallen some time back. He crouched down to check one when Taisia came up beside him. “What are your plans when we return with the inheritance?”

  “Give it over to Mum and Dad.”

  “I know, but after that?”

  He rose to his full height. “We’ll go find a safe place far from England.”

  Taisia fidgeted with her cape. “All of us?” she asked softly.

  The question surprised him. Did she feel like she was flying blind? Was she uncertain that she’d be welcomed into the family?

  “Of course,” he reassured. “We can set
off and find a perfect spot to build a house.”

  “Build a house?” She thought on that. “Perhaps somewhere as lovely as this?”

  “Hell, we could build right here!” he suggested excitably. “Two houses, in fact, here in this field.”

  Now Taisia was surprised. “Two?”

  “Aye. A place for Mum and Dad, and a home for . . .”

  He snapped his mouth shut, realizing he was getting carried away. He and Taisia hadn’t even kissed, and already he was talking about living together.

  “And the other?” she pressed, stepping closer to him.

  He rubbed the back of his neck as a regrettable tenseness took him over.

  “Well, I only meant everyone will need their own space, I reckon.”

  She stopped in front of him. Although her actions were braver than his, she appeared just as terrified. Pierce’s rapidly beating heart charged with fright and excitement, but he found himself taking off his hat and touching the side of her face. She closed her eyes and nestled her cheek against his palm. When she opened them, he drew her in and kissed her.

  Her lips stole the forest away. Every inch of him ignited in a passion that he never remembered having experienced before. Even the effects of the eccentric woodland could not compare to what she was doing to him. This kiss parted the gate that had sealed in his true feelings for her, setting free the love he always knew was there. He dropped his hat and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. She held him tight, unwilling to let go. He could have stood there forever with her.

  She drew away and opened those gorgeous cognac eyes.

  “Pierce,” she whispered, pointing up. “Look.”

  It took Pierce a moment to catch up to the world that was apparently still moving beyond their blissful first kiss.

  “Sorry?” he asked as his surroundings drifted into focus.

  “Up there.”

  He turned and spotted a birdhouse with a closed door. Pierce approached the tree it hung from and studied it.

  “I think that’s it,” he stated, starting his climb.

  He seized branches and used them to lift himself up. The birdhouse hung from the middle of a long, thick branch, forcing him to crawl on his belly toward it. When he was hovering over the birdhouse, he reached down and grabbed hold of it. He sat up as he brought it up as far as the rope it hung from would allow. The house was made of wood and painted gold with a steely silver cone rooftop that had a copper knob set at its peak. The round blue door had a keyhole in the center of it.

  “Huh,” Pierce said, remembering. He reached into his jacket pocket for the key with the extensive shaft.

  He stuck the key in, and it vanished into the lock all the way to its bow. As the key turned, so did the knob. The birdhouse clicked, and soon the roof sprang apart.

  “Bloody hell!” he exclaimed, scrambling to catch the birdhouse when he nearly dropped it.

  “Are you all right?” Taisia called up to him.

  Pierce got a grip on the birdhouse and sighed. “Aye. Right as rain.” To himself, he muttered, “Get it together, Pierce.”

  He peeked into the birdhouse through the opened rooftop that spread out into four pieces like the folded pedals on a spinning toy. The key he inserted had stretched straight through the keyhole and into the real lock hidden inside a pole where the knob was attached at the top. The pole had stayed in place as the key turned the knob, which released the separate sections of the roof. Pierce reached in and took the papers he found inside. A small note read: Look underneath.

  He turned the birdhouse upside down. Fastened to the base by thin metal wire twist ties was what looked to be an eight-pointed throwing star with every other point measuring half the size as the point next to it. The shorter points were brass colored, and the rest was black metal. There was a hole in the middle nearly as big as the watch they had brought from Denis R. Joubert’s tomb. Near the end of each point were small rivets as if the thing was meant to be attached to something else.

  “Is it in there?” Taisia asked from down below.

  Pierce untwisted the wires and removed the star. He lowered the birdhouse, letting it hang once more.

  “Aye. Found another mystery piece, too. Can you put it in the saddlebag with the others?”

  He dropped it down just before the sound of neighing caught his attention. Their giddy horse was trotting across the field toward the forest.

  “Shite.”

  “I’ll get him,” Taisia said, picking up the star and taking off after their mount.

  Pierce sat up straight and began reading the note.

  My dearest sister,

  Dearest sister? he wondered. Sounds touching. Perhaps François aimed to make amends for being such an arse.

  Pierce continued reading silently.

  This is a special place. Our mother and your father made love under these very trees.

  “Informative,” Pierce grumbled.

  And it was here you were conceived. Our mother loved your father very much, and never was that love ever extinguished.

  “Is that so?” Pierce huffed, folding up the note and shoving it into his jacket pocket. He read off the clue. “‘In the capital, water runs underneath the Blue.’” Pierce mulled that over and then let out a moan. “The capital? Oh, bloody hell.”

  * * *

  Taisia passed the trees and found the horse nuzzling noses with another by an embankment. She approached the animals curiously.

  “What the hell?”

  She stored the strange star item in the saddlebag of their horse, wondering who this other mount belonged to. A crack of a twig prompted her to turn. A stranger in black clothing stepped out from behind a wide tree trunk. He was buckling his belt, having just relieved himself, she assumed. He lifted his chin and showed surprise at seeing her.

  “’Ello there, little dove,” he said.

  “Pree vyent,” she returned.

  Her heart banged against her chest as if it were trying to break a bone to escape. She wondered why he was in the forest. He didn’t appear to be a woodsman, nor did his British brogue indicate he was local to the area.

  “Who are you?”

  “Me?” he asked with a crooked smile that made her blood ice over. “I’m nobody. A traveler passing through, is all.”

  His quick approach startled her. She jumped and hit her back against the horse behind her.

  “Come now,” he said, drawing closer. “Don’t be frightened.”

  She distrusted him and wanted him to keep his distance. Without any weapons to protect her, she tried to run. He was fast, though, and grabbed her, wrapping an arm around her waist and covering her mouth with a hand.

  “Steady now,” he whispered, tightening his grip. “No need to scurry off and scare him away.”

  Scare him? Was he talking about Pierce? Had this man been following them?

  The grip on her waist tightened even more, and his manhood hardened against her. He began dragging her farther from the field.

  “Seems I’ve been discovered, little dove.”

  She struggled and shouted into his palm, but, before she became more aggressive in her fight for freedom, he slammed her head against a tree that stood at the edge of the steep embankment. Her body went slack, and he lowered her to the base of the tree and leaned her against it as he stroked her hair.

  “I don’t have time for you at the moment, more’s the pity. I have to fetch ol’ Landcross. And as long as you prove your salt and keep him cooperating, I’ll allow you to stay alive.”

  She moaned as the world darkened.

  “Shush, lovely. No worries. I may have some vigor left for you after I have at him for a while.”

  He stood and rifled through his saddlebag, bringing out a pair of shackles. She couldn’t let him bind her. Before she completely blacked out, she fell sideways and tumbled down the embankment. Everything went black before she came to a rest at the bottom.

  * * *

  Pierce climbed down the tree and
waited by the edge of the grove. He wondered what was keeping Taisia. He cupped his hands around his mouth and called for her. Footsteps sounded behind him. He caught sight of a person out of the corner of his eye and immediately reached for his pistol.

  “Uh-uh,” a chilling tone said as the cold steel of a gun jabbed against his temple. “Let us have it.”

  Quickly coming to terms with the inescapable danger, Pierce slipped his pistol from its holster and held it up. The assailant snatched it away and threw it into the tall grass of the field. The second Pierce was unarmed, the stranger kicked his legs out from under him. He fell to his knees and the stranger shoved him down onto his belly. The man searched his pockets.

  “We weren’t supposed to have this time together until later, but your pretty companion spotted me.”

  His voice sounded familiar, though the accent was different.

  “Where is she?” Pierce demanded, trying to rise.

  The assailant pushed him down. “She’s alive, so long as you obey.”

  After finding nothing else on him, the man clamped cold shackles around Pierce’s wrists. Once secure, he flipped Pierce over. The man staring back at him was none other than that strange bugger who had approached him in the oddity tent.

  Christ! He’s a bounty hunter!

  When Pierce tried again to sit up, the man seized him by the throat and pinned him down with the revolver to his forehead.

  “Don’t,” the hunter warned through his teeth. His aggressive expression morphed into a sinister one. “You need to be controlled.”

  He ran his tongue over his lips and slid his hand away from Pierce’s neck, moving it over his chest and down between his legs.

  “Get your fucking hands off me!” Pierce bellowed, despite the gun.

  To subdue him, the sadistic sod tossed his own gun aside, grabbed Pierce by the jacket lapel, and head-butted him. The crushing impact to his forehead felt like shards of his own skull had pierced his brain. The pain alone caused temporary paralysis.