Chapter 8 #3
“That sounds more likely to me, too.” Ava unrolled the scroll, placing it in a frame atop a podium, and then gave her a direct look. “This is a magic scroll that can display images from the past in anyone’s life.”
“Oh, come on.” Was she serious? “I don’t think it’s going to tell you squat about me, Travars.”
“Do you want to know what happened to your mother?” Ava countered.
The heck, yes nearly burst from her lips, but Harper swallowed the words. Watching Cheryl being killed was the last thing she wanted to see. “That’s okay, I’ll pass.” She glanced at Rory. “My mother was murdered right after she left me at the park.”
Ava’s stern expression softened. “Why don’t we take a look at your past up until you lost your momma?” When she nodded she regarded Rory. “That’s your cue, sir.”
Rory reached over and touched the scroll, and murmured, “Show Harper Ensley’s life before her lady màthair died.”
She wasn’t expecting to see Cheryl appear on the scroll, or her mother sleeping in the arms of a red-haired man in the middle of a flower-covered meadow.
The man opened his eyes, kissed her forehead and then left.
Cheryl woke up some time later, looking confused, and then pulled on her clothes.
She went back to a small apartment, and the dreariness of her life as a grocery store cashier played out as her belly swelled.
One afternoon Cheryl went for a walk in the forest. The sky overhead darkened with black clouds, and a torrential rain came down, which made her run toward a stone cottage. The door opened, but when she ducked inside the cottage vanished, becoming a deep, fern-covered pit in the ground.
“Okay, that looks like magic to me,” Harper muttered.
“That’s a Fae hollow, isn’t it?” Ava asked Rory, who nodded.
The image darkened and lightened as days and nights passed in rapid succession, then flew by so fast they blurred.
Eventually the stone cottage appeared again, and Cheryl hurried out of it holding the hand of a very tall redheaded young girl.
She made her way through the forest as if she were terrified, stopping only when she reached the edge of a road.
A trucker saw her and pulled over, helping them into his cab.
That last part was the only thing that made any sense to Harper. “Mom always trusted truckers. She’d never get into a car with a stranger, but she’d take a ride from a semi if it stopped. I was six or seven years old there, I think. What happened to us before this?”
Ava exchanged a look with Rory before she said, “Evidently the scroll can’t show that part of your life.”
From that time on Harper’s mother remained constantly on the run, always fearful and looking over her shoulder, never staying longer than a few days in any one place.
Sometimes she would awaken in the middle of the night, pack up her things, grab her sleeping daughter and flee the motel where she was staying, as if she knew they were in danger.
There wasn’t any apparent reason for her behavior, but it was clear that she was terrified.
The hardships they suffered became evident to Ava and Rory, but Harper wasn’t ashamed of what her mother had done to take care of them both.
The scroll never showed who or what had made Cheryl so fearful, and the images it displayed stopped when Cheryl arrived in Pacific Grove.
“Your momma sure did love you,” Ava said as she started to roll up the scroll, and then stopped as Harper put her hand over hers.
“I can’t watch anymore, so I’m going out now.” It was tearing her apart to say that, but she still couldn’t bring herself to see her mother suffer. “Do me a favor and watch the rest for me. I want to know if that son of a bitch Renard Beaumont murdered her.”
Rory accompanied her out into the passage, where he gave her a cautious look, and then offered her a small, folded piece of linen.
“You don’t need to say anything, Blue Eyes.” She smiled as he wiped the tears she hadn’t realized she’d cried from her cheeks. “I’m okay. I just miss her a lot, even after all this time.”
“’Tis the same for me with Chomha.” He spread his arms, offering her a hug.
Harper’s insides started to crumble like cheap cardboard, and she walked into his embrace, winding her arms around his waist and holding onto him.
He braced her, and his breath stirred her hair, but he didn’t otherwise move.
She was scaring him again, and she hated that, but this was beyond her self-control.
Oh, this is what I really needed.
“Can I show you something?” Harper stepped back, and when he nodded she took out the carved stone she’d found in the highlands. “Do you know what this is?”
He frowned and turned it over. “’Tis a shielding stone. It resembles one my lady màthair gave me.” He met her gaze. “In a black mood, I hurled it from the trap. Where did you find the stone, my lady?”
Harper told him about her visit to the highlands, and how the stone had appeared out of thin air to drop on her boot toe. “Ever since that day I can’t stop carrying it around or touching it when I’m upset.” She smiled up at him. “So you gave it to me.”
Before Rory could reply Ava stepped out of the archive room.
“Your mother saw two men watching her at the motel where you were staying, Harper,” the laird’s wife said.
“She left you at the park, but they caught up with her a few blocks away. She fought them when they tried to abduct her, and one of them broke her neck. She died instantly. They dumped her body in the woods.”
A furious outrage filled Harper. Cheryl had been barely five feet tall, and always skinny from going without food. “Who were they?”
“I don’t think they were human.” Ava regarded Rory.
“After they disposed of her mother’s body, their appearances changed.
They had long green hair, big brown eyes and very tan skin.
They also looked more feminine, as if they’d changed from male to female.
Their clothing wasn’t made from cloth. It seemed to have been woven out of ferns and vines. ”
“Melia.” He frowned. “’Tis odd. They hardly ever leave their trees, and when they do, ’tisnae to hunt mortals. Harper.”
“I’m done with this for now.” She kept walking away from the archive room, unwilling to listen to anymore.
Ava and Rory didn’t try to follow her, and for some reason she ended up in the lists. No one was sparring at the moment, but the laird stood listening to two patrollers. When they walked away Tasgall came over to join her.
“Come with me,” was all he said, and then he started walking toward the back of the stronghold.
Harper debated going with him for all of five seconds, and then trudged after him. She saw him retrieve two long spears and idly wondered if he meant to use them on some faceless guys who were trying to sneak in and kill everyone. Had she missed one of those icky trees that grew them?
Tasgall stopped at the edge of a sluggish, polluted-looking stream that crossed the back of the inner bailey, and turned to offer her one of the spears.
“The patrollers saw some strange fish in the water,” he said. “They’re black with no eyes, fins or scales.”
“You don’t think they’re going to crawl out of there, do you?” Harper asked, tightening her grip on the spear’s shaft.
“Best to learn what they may do.” Tasgall watched the currents, and then quickly struck with his spear, impaling a long, wide oval of black that only vaguely resembled a fish. He used his boot to nudge it off the spear, and then crouched down to examine it.
Harper did the same, and noticed that her apricot glow had returned. “Can I touch it?”
When he nodded, she brushed one fingertip against the slick black surface, which instantly turned silver and brown, and sprouted eyes, scales and several fins, including one large one on the back with red and black stripes. Its belly wound from the spear shrank and then disappeared.
“’Tis a grayling,” the laird said, scooping it up and tossing it back into the water. He stood and watched the stream again, nodding as the water currents began to pick up speed. “Your touch, ’tis magical, Mistress Ensley.”
“Call me Harper.” She went to the very edge, and bent down to stick her hand in the cold water.
The muddy color of the currents cleared, and two black fish-shaped blobs near her fingers transformed into silvery graylings.
At the same time her apricot glow faded.
“I think I’ve temporarily used up my mojo again, Laird. ”
He nodded. “When you see that return, would you accompany me to the passage where Torra pulled you into the spell trap?”
She didn’t have to ask why he wanted her to. “I’d probably only repair the damage to the barrier thing, or destroy this place once and for all.”
“I would ask you to repair the barrier.” As she gaped at him he sighed. “I ken such goes against what my lady wife desires from you. ’Tis also dangerous for all to remain in this place much longer.”
“So why do you… You think Bodach is planning to come in,” she guessed.
“Aye, when the MacBren’s men march on Dun Talamh for the final time, we’ll be too distracted by defending our vassals and home to notice any other intruders,” he admitted.
“Already the goblin’s sent terrible creatures to attack.
The last time, he came in himself. I reckon what comes next shall end us all. ”
“If the broken enchantment doesn’t do the job first.” Harper regarded him steadily. “You can’t tell Ava about this. She’ll kick up a fuss, or try to stop us.”
“You trust me, then?” Tasgall asked, sounding bemused.
“I’d do the same.” She scanned the back of the castle.
“But once Bodach is inside the trap we need to find a way to force him to free us, or make sure he doesn’t do this to anyone else.
” She nodded toward two senior men walking toward them.
“Looks like you’ve got other work to do.
Want to try the barrier fixing tomorrow? ”
“Aye, my lady.” The laird bowed and went to meet the men.