“Pierce, I’m so sorry,” she sobbed. “I am sorry for everything.”
Her overwhelming delight at seeing him made her giddy beyond measure.
“It’s all right, love,” he whispered.
She looked at him and slid his wet hair away from his face with trembling fingers before resting her hand on his cheek. He leaned into her palm with eyes closed.
“No, it isn’t,” she argued. “I have to protect you.”
His beautiful green eyes opened. He straightened up and gazed upon her so profoundly that all the world’s flaws diminished. Nothing else existed save for them, the tall trees, and the rain.
He kissed her, and right then, she knew this would be a lifelong partnership.
Chapter Twenty-three
Seeking Help
When Pierce saw his grandmother, he almost failed to recognize her.
“What the bloody hell happened to you while I was gone?”
Her vibrant lips stretched into a smile. “You freed it.”
That mystified him. He thought about the strange air that had whisked out from the puzzle box and wondered if there was a connection.
“We shouldn’t linger,” Nico advised. “Those men must be coming here even as we speak.”
The lad was right. If the bastards craved revenge, and Pierce knew they did, the cottage would be the first place they’d come looking for it.
It didn’t bother him there was no actual inheritance money. He’d only wanted it to help his parents to go underground without enduring the hardship of living on the lam as he had done. What irked him was that now these men were hunting not only for him, but for his family as well, and most likely, they wouldn’t stop until they had satisfied their bloodlust.
“You should all go,” he declared to everyone, strapping on his gun belt. “I’ll stay behind and ambush them.”
“Nyet!” Taisia shouted angrily. “You will not fight them alone!”
When he saw the fire in her eyes, he instantly regretted that suggestion.
“All right,” he yielded, throwing his hands up. “Bad idea.”
“They do need to be stopped,” Grandmother Fey joined in. “Men like them will never be diverted from their destructive path.”
“What are you suggesting?” Pierce asked, putting on his top hat. “That we make a stand?”
“Oui. Not here, though. We shall leave for Bergsham Forest.”
“What for? To ask for help from the elves?”
“Elves?” Nico asked confusingly.
“Oui,” Grandmother Fey answered them both.
Grandmother Fey packed little and never looked back as they left her cottage. To avoid running into their pursuers, they traveled southeast toward the river and came to a ferryboat crossing. Black smoke jutted into the air from the smokestack as the ferryboat set off across the water. The voyage was short, and Pierce had many questions for his grandmother.
“Do you think they’ll chase after us?” he asked, standing beside her at the bow.
“Oui. I have made certain of it.”
The land on the other side of the river was coming up fast, but Pierce had to ask.
“Grandmother? What exactly are you?”
She pressed her fingers to his mouth. “Shush, now. I promise to explain everything in due time.”
He decided it was best to listen to her and wait. They reached land and headed to Koudhoorn. When they arrived, Grandmother Fey went off alone and returned to the group with a plan that she had discussed with the elves. After that, it all came down to waiting for the right moment.
* * *
Rupert and Ainsworth reached the cottage, surprised to find their horses waiting for them. The vacant house, however, was something Rupert expected.
The second the lawyer stepped inside, he began his fruitless hunt. While he searched, Rupert located another clue. He couldn’t explain it, but something—instincts, he figured—told him to take a peek under the table where a clue appeared to have been dropped by accident.
If the wealth you seek isn’t in the chest, return to Bergsham Forest to end your quest.
“Where do you think they have gone?” Ainsworth asked, coming out from the bedroom.
Rupert flipped the clue over to where a map was drawn up. “I think I know exactly where they’re heading.”
The return trip to the elves’ forest did not require a toll this time, although Rupert was more than willing to pay a king’s ransom to be allowed back in. Once he had the inheritance and had slaughtered Pierce and his family, he would shoot Ainsworth dead and take the wealth for himself. After all, he suspected Ainsworth had the same intentions toward him.
The damp forest warmed up, and it shined with raindrops that sparkled like diamonds.
“What is this?” Ainsworth asked, inhaling the new air deeply.
“We’re in the forests of the elves,” Rupert explained. “Take caution.”
Rupert led the way, following the map. It showed a series of easily found landmarks such as a tree with a knot in it the size of a horse and a tunnel carved straight through a giant standalone boulder. Once through the channel, they reached a clearing in the forest where a small mound of dirt rested in the center. Rupert dismounted and walked toward the pile with his revolver drawn. His eyes traveled everywhere, searching for any signs of Landcross or those pointy-eared cunts. He kicked aside some loose soil.
“It’s here,” he told Ainsworth, holstering his gun to pull out his knife. “You dig while I keep watch.”
The lawyer didn’t need to be told twice. He grabbed the knife and fell to his knees, scooping away the dirt.
A light breeze brushed against Rupert’s ear and ruffled through his hair. Over here.
He whipped around while pulling his revolver, but he saw not a soul. A rustle in the bushes at the forest edge drew his attention. While Ainsworth kept digging like a dog for its bone, Rupert investigated. With his gun outstretched, he went into the bush, finding nobody. He stepped into the thicket, searching.
“I found it,” Ainsworth shouted, unearthing a chest. He opened it, and his eyes glittered with delight as he brought out a large sack. “It’s ours!”
“Oi, hold it right there, wanker!” Landcross ordered, emerging from the forest with his pistol pointed at Ainsworth.
The Russian woman appeared from the other end with her gun also trained on the lawyer. Rupert ducked into the foliage and crept his way up behind her. It amazed him that they hadn’t seen him at all.
“That’s ours,” Landcross said to Ainsworth. “You’d best give it up.”
“Wrong,” Rupert shouted, springing at the woman.
He wrapped his handless arm around her throat and pressed his gun against her temple.
Too easy, he thought.
“Drop your gun, Landcross,” Rupert demanded. “I’ll blow her bloody head off, I swear!”
Landcross stared at him.
“Drop it, dammit!’
Without arguing, Landcross tossed his gun and raised his hands. Rupert was over the moon—until he noticed something odd: a pointed ear on the woman. Landcross had them too, poking out through his hair. Ainsworth also saw this and refocused on the sack he held. He turned it upside down and flower petals tumbled out. Rupert looked to Landcross, who now held a bow in his raised hand.
“Elves,” he seethed vehemently. “Draw your gun, Ainsworth!”
The elf posing as Landcross pulled a bolt from his quiver and fixed it in the bow with great speed. Ainsworth was reaching for his weapon when an arrow grazed him, slicing his cheek. He slapped a hand over the bloody wound and darted off into the forest. The elf woman Rupert held, jumped straight up, twirled, and kicked him across the face. Rupert fell to the ground, but quickly recovered and clambered to his feet. He aimed his gun, but discovered he was completely alone in the clearing.
A sharp whistle to his left got him to whip his head in that direction just before a blast sent him to the ground. The pain of the gunshot wound to his chest burned as hot
as a smoldering coal. The real Landcross approached with his pistol trained on him. Rupert tried raising his gun, but the weapon was kicked from his grasp.
Landcross stood over him, his gun aimed squarely at Rupert’s forehead. The look on Landcross’s face was one of anger and hatred. Rupert knew that look all too well, and he gravely understood what was coming next.
Landcross thumbed the hammer back.
The blast was the last thing Rupert heard before the sudden darkness came for him.
* * *
Christopher Ainsworth hurried on foot through the forest. Taisia remained hidden, balanced on a branch of a tree with Nico’s rifle, waiting for him. As the man passed by, she aimed her weapon and gained a clean shot, but her finger did not press the trigger.
Never had she taken a life and although this man was a threat, she froze, unable to cross that line.
Christopher disappeared within the forest, un-aware of how close he had come to death.
* * *
Pierce rushed into the forest to search for Taisia. Her rifle had a single shot, and yet he hadn’t heard it fire since Christopher took off.
“Taisia,” he called. “Tai!”
“Pierce!” she hollered to him.
He looked in the direction of her voice and sprinted off when Christopher appeared from behind a wide trunk, aiming his flintlock directly at him.
“Drop it,” he ordered.
Pierce dropped his gun as he backed away. The expression on the lawyer’s face was a fierce and deadly one.
“I circled around for my horse when I heard you calling for that woman of yours,” Christopher said. “It seems I’ll be bringing something with me, after all.”
His steady approach never let up, forcing Pierce to keep backing up until a rock stole away his footing. He fell backward on his arse and sat defenselessly.
“I’ll collect the reward on your head myself,” Christopher said, cocking the hammer, “even if you are worth less dead than alive.”
His was pulling back on the trigger when a sudden blast stopped him. Christopher stayed standing for a few moments with a look of anguish and shock on his face. He gasped as he clutched his chest and spat blood from his mouth. The sod kept gawking as he slowly pitched forward, forcing Pierce to roll away before the man collapsed on top of him. Pierce shot to his feet and looked upon the still body of Christopher Ainsworth with a bloody hole in his back. The shot had pierced him straight through the heart. When he looked over, he saw Taisia with the smoking rifle clutched in her shaky hands. He hurried over to her. She was trembling greatly, and her chest heaved. Pierce gently clasped her chin to try to calm her.
“Cheers, love,” he whispered gratefully.
She dropped the rifle and fell into his embrace.
When everyone regrouped in the clearing, they found Swansea’s body missing.
“Where did that bastard go?” Pierce wondered.
“The elves took the corpse,” Grandmother Fey explained. “They will bury both bodies in the forest.”
She and Nico had hidden during the ambush, mainly because there were only two guns and Taisia had insisted that she help.
Grandmother Fey approached Pierce. Her face lit up like a star, and she did a little jump before waving to someone behind him.
Pierce looked at her strangely when she said to him, “Pierce, don’t be rude. Wave to your grand-father.”
“Eh? Wave to whom now?” he asked as he turned.
On the other side of the clearing stood five elves, two women, and three men dressed in rugged outfits that nearly camouflaged them to their surroundings. Some had bows and arrows, while others were armed with knives, hatches, and crossbows. Amongst them was the elf who had saved Pierce at the grove. That one raised his hand to them.
“My . . . my grandfather?” he stammered. “He’s my grandfather?”
Grandmother Fey lowered her arm and looked at him.
“Oui. Where do you think you inherited your good looks from?”
Pierce gawked at the elf and eventually waved back. Soon, the elves retreated into the forest and the group went their own separate way. While Pierce, Taisia, and Nico led their horses through the woods, Pierce tried settling on where to start his questioning.
“Erm, Grandmother?” he began while walking beside her. “What is Grandfather’s name?”
“Durothil. He is one of the oldest elves in Europe.”
“Oh,” Pierce mused, thinking of how young the elf looked. “How did you both meet?”
“The old troupe passed through here when I was eighteen. He appeared to me when I was alone, gathering firewood, and we were instantly attracted to each other. I began sneaking off to see him, and soon he brought me to the Singsong Orchard.”
“Is that where all those birdhouses are?” Taisia inquired.
“Oui, chérie.” To Pierce, Grandmother Fey said, “And if you’ve read the letter hidden there, then you know what your grandfather and I did next.”
Pierce stopped and thought on that a tick before shuddering. Quickly, he caught up to his grand-mother, who was grinning away like a schoolgirl in love.
“If I’m related to an elf, do I have any er . . . magical powers?”
“Your existence is very special. Your bloodline has made you unique in many ways. I am afraid, though, that you possess no otherworldly qualities.”
“That’s bloody disappointing,” he grumbled.
“You mustn’t pout, Pierce,” Grandmother Fey advised. “I’m quite sure you have plenty to be thankful for.”
A hand grasped his. He looked over at Taisia’s smiling face.
“We’ll stay overnight here in the forest,” his grandmother announced.
They set up camp near a brook. It was long into the night when Pierce suddenly awakened. The embers in the fire still glowed hot, but it was the white light piercing through the darkness between the trees that caught his eye.
Without disturbing anyone, he stood and headed toward it, navigating his way through the dark woods. He came alongside a tree and stopped.
Grandmother Fey was with his grandfather, Durothil. They were facing each other. A glowing orb surrounded them like a bubble. They were too far off for him to hear, but he didn’t need to listen in to notice the affection they shared for each other. Grandmother Fey said something and then kissed Durothil on the cheek. He did the same. She walked off, taking the glow with her. Durothil stayed in his place and allowed the darkness to swallow him whole. Grandmother Fey headed straight for Pierce. He couldn’t figure out a way to slink away without being detected.
“Grandson,” she greeted, coming closer.
“’Ello. I spied the light and . . .”
“It’s all right.”
The light washed over him when she stopped.
“You’re, erm, glowing?”
“Of course, I am, silly boy,” she stated matter-of-factly. “I can’t see in the dark, even if I am a wise woman.”
Pierce gaped. “Come again? As in a witch?”
“I prefer wise woman,” she insisted, threading her fingers in front of her. “Have you not figured it out yet?”
“I suspected a slew of things.”
She took a seat on the ground, stretched out her legs, and leaned back on her hands. Pierce sat down cross-legged beside her.
“Glad we did without another encounter with the old bugger that Taisia and I ran into last time we traveled through the forest.”
“You met the Toll Man,” Grandmother Fey explained. “I hope you didn’t make eye contact with him.”
“I did, actually. It was a bit frightening.”
“You must have a strong memory. That isn’t too surprising, given where you come from. Elves have terrific memories. Toll Men sometimes make people forget them so they can charge travelers again for passage into the forest or desert, or any place a Toll Man resides.”
“Sneaky,” Pierce admitted. “Taisia doesn’t remember seeing him. S’pose he looked her in the eye whi
le I was distracted. He also returned the loot I gave him.”
“He must have realized who you are related to and decided not to charge you out of respect.”
“S’pose.” Pierce sighed. “Grandma?”
“Oui?”
“What happened?”
She blew out a long breath. “The sickness nearly did me in. When I first fell ill, I was so desperate to regain my health, I used a spell to heal myself, but, instead, I became worse. I soon realized it was my own powers causing my illness.”
“Really? How did that happen?”
“I have an idea,” she grunted angrily but refused to elaborate. “The only way I could save myself was to surrender my abilities.”
“You can do that? Give up your powers?”
She lowered her head. “It was the most painful thing I’ve ever done. I had to take out a piece of myself—my true self—in order to spare my life. I felt I was being betrayed, as well as betraying myself. I contained my powers inside the puzzle box and strove to get better.”
“And you never did?”
“No. By this time, François had opened hotels in the Netherlands. He met a woman who had kept him here for years. I suggested to the family that we go to him and ask for his help. My son had always known about me being a wise woman, and it frightened him. He believes my abilities are the work of the devil, and so, he refused to assist me, at first. Nona convinced him otherwise, saying that I no longer had my powers. Somehow, he found out about the puzzle box and hid it away.”
“Bastard.”
“I don’t blame him. He was never truly one of us. I would’ve taken him to be raised by his father if Denis hadn’t died. He was a good man. He was simply a gentleman craving adventure, and I offered that to him. Our worlds were different, though.” She sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees, looking up at the sky. “Not having my powers was the remedy I needed. It granted me time to cleanse my body of the illness it had left behind.”
“But François gave you the clue to where it was. Why?”
“Guilt, perhaps. He knew how miserable I was compared to how I used to be when I had my powers. François may not have wanted anything to do with us, but even he felt sorry for his own mother.”
The Reunion Page 29
