The sensation of being alone gripped my chest. I stumbled back to my bed and sat down slowly. “I can’t lose you too. It’s not worth it.”
“You won’t lose me, and this is worth it. It is too important that you be cleared of wrongdoing—it’s the only way you can inherit the Weald and you must inherit the Weald. I have to play this part until the investigation concludes.”
“What do you plan to do? Go to prison?”
She smiled. “No, I won’t do that, remember I’m Fae. When the authorities are convinced that I am responsible for May’s death, when they finally leave you and your family alone, and only then, this Sara will make an amazing jail break. This Sara will disappear, but only after I have conveniently shown up on a few surveillance cameras in New York or Chicago—before I appear, mysteriously and conspicuously, in Paris or Milan where my trail will go cold. I will be back, Maggie. I will not leave you, but I’m afraid this Sara must disappear—it’s about time for me to be young again.”
“What about the Water trial? Will you be there?” She was my rock, my safety net—she had to be there.
“That may not be possible,” she said. Her words hurt me and left me feeling exposed. “But Gavin will be there if I am not—he will not allow anything to happen to you. Maggie, we will find out who is responsible, but we have to clear your name first.”
I realized that her plan would work—she would pull it off as only a Fae could. Thinking about Gavin, I relaxed a little and settled back into the pillows on my bed. She smiled at me and sat at the foot of my bed, clutching a pillow like she always did.
“I can’t even tell you how pissed I am, Sara. If the police are right about Aunt May, someone or something murdered her. I just can’t figure out why. She wasn’t a threat to anyone. She actually got along with Chalen better than you did. Why kill a feeble old woman?”
“There is a disturbing possibility—one that I have not wanted to consider.”
I felt my body go cold as the words left her mouth.
“What?”
“I’m now convinced the Fae were directly involved.”
“Why, what changed? You were so set against that earlier.”
“None of the Fae, neither those in the garden nor those in the Weald, noticed any human being come or go that entire afternoon—except you when you came back from your boat ride. Since it wasn’t a human, logic suggests that it had to be my kind.”
“Why would a Fae do this?”
“Upon May’s death you are to become the next Steward, correct?”
I nodded.
“To do that, you must inherit the Weald. If you were convicted of May’s murder, you would not be permitted to do so. Incarcerated, you cannot fulfill your duty as Steward, and the Fae would require your family to sell the Weald. The Fae would place another family here and select a new Steward to take your place.”
“But who would do this? You said the Unseelie were not permitted to enter the house or the cottage garden?”
“They are not supposed to—that is part of their accord with us. To ensure it, there are always Seelie present to make certain the boundaries are not crossed.
“The Fae in the garden?”
“Yes, there are at least three who guard the cottage at all times.”
“Could an Unseelie have done that to her from outside the cottage wall?”
“Again, yes, it is possible, but whether an Unseelie did it from the room or the moon, we would detect the boundary violation. In our world, Maggie, one doesn’t have to use a physical body to trespass. That’s why the guards are always in both forms, physical and Naeshura.”
The implications were numbing. “Could a Seelie have changed sides and allowed the Unseelie to do this?”
“No, one of them could not have done it alone—it would require all three guards, because any of the three could change forms and sense an incursion.”
“What do you think happened?” I asked.
“As of yet, I don’t know. It’s possible that some of my kind are in league with the Unseelie. Probable, even. As I told you the day of the Earth trial, the lines separating the two clans are not as clearly drawn as they once were. Ultimately, though, I don’t understand why they would do this, except to oust your family, and I can see no benefit in doing that. None of this makes sense.”
“It doesn’t make sense to me either, but I’m scared and I’m pissed. Will there be justice served on the Fae who murdered Aunt May?”
“Yes … but probably not the level of justice you expect,” she said with an apologetic expression.
“What do you mean?”
“If a Fae is responsible for May’s death, and that is likely, the harshest punishment would probably not involve more than banishing the offender from taking physical form for a period of time, perhaps a century, possibly longer.”
I was furious. “What? That’s not justice! To an immortal, that’s not even a slap on the wrist. That’s a nap!”
“Maggie, I’m afraid this is going to be offensive, but you deserve to hear it. You know how the Unseelie feel about people. The truth is, most Seelie do not see humans as equals. While many Seelie are intrigued by human art and culture, a large percentage think of humans as little more than disposable entertainment. For them, the punishment a Fae would receive for killing a human should be no more severe than the punishment a human would receive for injuring a song bird.”
I thought about what she said, tried to wrap my mind around it, and again I felt numb. She walked to my jewelry box and opened it. I only half-heartedly watched her as she dug through the contents. She closed it and walked over to the cedar chest at the foot of my bed. The lock popped open as if she’d used the key. I still wasn’t paying much attention when she lifted a bottle from inside.
“What’s that?” I asked, realizing it wasn’t something I recognized.
“An element of the conspiracy,” she said, smiling at me.
It was Flunitrazepam, planted in my room to point the guilt squarely at me.
“The police have a search warrant they plan to execute in the morning—they would have found this, and I guess you can ascertain the rest.”
I stared at the bottle and realized that everything she’d told me was true. My heart pounded, and the pressure in my chest made it difficult to breathe.
“You have to say goodbye to Sara tonight,” she said.
NINETEEN
A RUSE
Cook came by the house at ten o’clock in the morning. His demeanor had changed since I last saw him, and I could tell instantly that he no longer suspected my parents or me. Mom and Dad were stunned when he told them about Sara’s confession. Neither wanted to believe it at first, but when he confirmed that he found the bottle of Flunitrazepam exactly where Sara told him it would be, they just stared at him. I looked down, focusing on the stone floor in the living room, and didn’t look back up.
Sara had sold the story. She convinced Cook that Aunt May had promised to provide for her in the Will. Sara had told him she was enraged after she learned that Aunt May left everything to me. Cook said that it was clear to him that the confession was genuine, because Sara knew things about the crime—including the dosage and the timeline—that nobody outside of the police could have known.
I allowed myself to cry when Dad became angry. Cook patted me on the shoulder and said that it was only natural to feel angry and betrayed. My parents certainly felt that way, which was the hardest part for me. It was devastating to watch them react to the news, to see them accept that a life-long friend of Aunt May’s could be capable of such betrayal, but I knew it had to happen this way and I played my part.
Cook apologized to me, and in an attempt to bring us some solace he promised that the prosecutor would seek the death penalty. Good luck with that, buddy.
TWENTY
REVELATION
By the middle of May, Candace had begun to heal but was still unconscious. The doctors were hopeful that she hadn’t suffered any permanent b
rain damage when her heart stopped. I spent many afternoons reading to her, talking to her, and praying that she would wake up. I’d never spent time with anyone in a coma, so I didn’t know if I would feel like she was still in the room or somewhere far away. But the more time I spent with her, the more I knew she was there. I could feel her presence.
I told her about Aunt May and the funeral. I told her how nervous it made me to sense Fae outside the garden wall, as I never knew whether they were Seelie or Unseelie. I found it oddly comforting to be in the room with Candace, regardless of what else went on. I missed her, and I would do anything to get her to wake up.
I tried talking to Gavin about her again, to convince him that this had to the work of Unseelie, but he wouldn’t listen. I couldn’t tell him the truth—that I’d broken my promise and revealed the Fae—but if I could, it would have convinced him. Maybe. He was stubborn to a fault. He was also patient. He cared about my emotional stability, but he believed that I was only making a difficult situation even worse by refusing to accept the truth.
In fact, everyone else seemed to believe that Candace did it to herself—except for her mom and Doug. Even Phillip and Ronnie stopped wondering whether she had done it, and instead talked about why, recalling every mood swing as a sign they missed. She had been moody and nervous before it happened. She had good reason. She’d figured out the truth about Chalen and was worried about me. None of them understood that, and it was impossible to explain it to them.
That was how the next two weeks passed. I swam, I studied, and I spent time with Candace. Personally, I liked to think of it as a routine, but not Gavin. He called it a funk. He demanded an evening of frivolity, and insisted that I celebrate his birthday with him.
Before he came over, I sat with Mom at the garden table that overlooked the lake. Over tea, she and I talked about Aunt May and, like many nights, we didn’t feel like getting up—nature provided our entertainment. It was twilight, and the clouds to the west were lit up in pink, orange and violet all set against a smoky blue-green sky that transitioned to a deep sapphire somewhere behind the leaves of the giant White Oaks. Lights from the other side of the lake twinkled on the placid surface of the water.
The fragrance of the garden was rich and sweet—entirely different than earlier in the year. In spring, the sweet scent of wisteria, mock orange, and fruit tree blossoms filled the air. I also remembered the heavier fragrance of the antique roses that bloomed in May, but lately all the roses in the garden were in bloom. Their incredibly beautiful perfume filled the air where we sat. And when I had walked around the garden earlier, other smells as enjoyable as the roses added to the pleasure of it all.
Near the cottage door, the violet and pink clematis vines clinging to the stone were in full bloom. The scent was subtle—I had to get close, but it was fresh and beautiful. Near the fountain and the gazebo, the air was heavy with the scent of lilacs, and by the wall the intoxicating scent of honeysuckle demanded attention.
Even with all that went on in my mind, with Aunt May gone and Sara unable to visit until dark, I found strength there. The perfumes of the garden mixed with those of the Weald were almost like an invisible barrier, a fragrant wall that separated me from the outside world. I didn’t want to leave it and, once again, my resolve to stay strengthened. Come what may, this is where I belong.
Gavin parked his coupe by the wall and joined us in the garden. Without saying a word, he smiled at both of us and sat next to me. As if to acknowledge that it was a spectacular moment, he relaxed and exhaled slowly, closing his eyes under his long, thick lashes. He clearly intended to let me enjoy it for a little while longer. The Fae never seemed to be in a hurry about anything, and that was especially true when they took the opportunity to enjoy nature.
Once again, Gavin looked like he’d stepped off a runway in New York in the sleek tan cotton pants that clung to his thighs and tapered at the ankle. The white knit crew neck pullover that looked custom fitted hugged the seductive angles of his chest and stomach perfectly. The linen sport coat fit his shoulders snugly enough that I could see his muscles move under the fabric. He didn’t have his hair spiked tonight—it was perfectly groomed, and slicked just a touch, as if he were the romantic lead in a film from the 1940s. Seeing him in the garden this way reminded me of the cover of one of those romance novels.
I felt the breeze pick up ever so slightly and listened for the rustle of the leaves. When the breeze blew out of the west, it carried the scent of the cedars from the edge of the lake. I loved the smell of cedar. It was clean and masculine. Maybe that was why it complemented the garden so well.
Even though I was sure Gavin would have been content to sit with me for hours, I needed to talk to him, and that conversation had to occur away from the Weald. At the time there were five Fae in the garden with us.
I was supposed to take him to dinner tonight. It wasn’t really his birthday, but he felt obliged to celebrate a birthday each year to blend in, at least that was what he’d told me. The dinner part was my idea. My plan was to get him alone and take one more swing at convincing him that something was going on. It was a plan that I kept tucked well back in my mind.
“So, who’s driving?” I asked, as we headed toward the garden gate.
“You are. I think it’s only fair since it’s my birthday.”
The absurdity of his answer made me laugh. “You must like my car, even though it’s too small and it isn’t Italian.” I joked as we put the top down.
“I think this car is one of the most beautiful ever made—sculptural, beautifully proportioned. It doesn’t drive like an Italian sport car, but it cruises better, and there is something to be said for spending time in rolling art.”
“Pink isn’t really your color,” I teased.
“I think I look great in pink,” he said defensively. “It also helps that this car is supercharged—it was built to go fast.”
“Mitch said that too, but I don’t know what it means.”
He just laughed and rolled his eyes like I should somehow know about cars.
“You know, I have a connection to the name as well,” he said.
He told me that Native Americans, who he simply called the first people, believed that the Thunderbird was a sacred creature that controlled the heavens and struck down those who offended it by shooting lightning from its eyes.
I laughed.
“Skeptic? Don’t laugh, Maggie, shooting lightning from one’s eyes is not as hard as it sounds, though it does make it difficult to see for a while,” Gavin said, nodding at the road ahead with a big grin on his face.
I cackled. “Like Zeus?”
“Oh, don’t even get me started on him.”
“Wait, he’s real?”
“Yes, Fire aligned, and an impossible bore. The ultimate expression of Fae narcissism is self-deification.” Gavin exhaled with disgust.
“Poseidon?”
“Nothing more than a tantrum-prone water-sprite with delusions of grandeur.” He coughed and grinned.
I continued laughing in disbelief until he changed the subject and told me about the history of the Osage people, their creation story, and a few other legends. It was all fascinating.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something move beside us. It was a subtle movement that I blamed on my imagination at first. Then I saw them—three deer, bolting through the darkened woods. Two stopped and bounced back into the trees, but the third leapt toward the asphalt. It was too late, the deer was going to collide with us and it would be bad with the top down.
As I stomped the brakes and tried to swerve, the most amazing thing happened—I caught the deer with my mind. I felt her beating heart and the muscles tensing in her body as I lifted her over the windshield. She struggled in my grip when we passed underneath, her heart beating faster. I watched her pass over us and saw her in my rearview mirror before I placed her on the opposite side of the road. As soon as I let her go she bolted at least twenty-five feet into the trees in one f
luid, graceful movement.
“Oh, my god!” I screamed as the car skidded sideways in a cloud of acrid rubber smoke. We screeched to a stop in the middle of the road, facing the opposite direction we’d been travelling. My heart raced, and my hands shook so violently that I couldn’t hold the steering wheel. I finally took a breath. “Did you see that?”
“That was incredible!” Gavin shouted, still gripping the dash.
“How did I do that?” I continued, breathlessly.
“You’ve really developed your Air ability,” he said, smiling as he turned back to me.
“But I wasn’t trying. Oh, my gosh, wow!” I tried to calm down. “I may need a minute—I can’t hold the steering wheel.”
* * *
My heart continued to race long after we got to the restaurant, but I finally relaxed when the hostess who seated us tripped and stumbled on a chair while staring at Gavin.
We were at Ristorante Pastralli in downtown Eureka. Situated on the side of a mountain, it had a festive but intimate feel. I quickly settled into eating mode—I was starving, my appetite whetted by the mouth-watering aromas that hung in the air—Italian bread, tomato sauce, basil, oregano, garlic and Italian cheeses.
“The story you told me in the car, about the Osage, reminded me of a legend that Aunt May had mentioned, where an Osage chief brought his blind daughter here to the springs to heal her sight. Is there any truth to that?”
“Actually, it’s entirely true, except it wasn’t the spring that healed her. It was Fae. In fact, it was Sherman.”
“Your father? … well, you know what I mean,” I said trying not to smile.