Epilogue
“Are you sure about this, Keir?” Martin didn’t like questioning Keir, but in this case, he’d make an exception.
Will-o’-the-wisps weren’t benign creatures.
While Martin didn’t always like to rely on generalized species reputations, will-o’-the-wisps had gained theirs honestly, and that reputation wasn’t kind.
“I’m not certain about anything anymore, Martin.” They were in Keir’s private quarters, lingering near the fireplace. A fire shouldn’t have been necessary this late in the summer, even for Minnesota, but Keir found it difficult to truly feel warm these days.
Martin deflated, all his early bluster and bravado fading with Keir’s weary response.
“It’s not your fault. You know that, right?
” Martin desperately wanted to touch Keir, to offer whatever comfort he could.
It was all Martin could do to keep his branches and leaves in check.
Oak dryads were steady creatures and longed to offer that stability to others.
That need was often mistaken for deeper feelings, and Martin had heard the rumors.
His affections had been misread. Not that Keir wasn’t an impressive being worthy of worship.
Martin admired the gryphon, he considered Keir an ally and would do just about anything for his longtime friend.
Martin truly loved Keir, but he wasn’t in love with him as many mistakenly thought.
Oak leaves sprouted from Martin’s fingertips as he finally lost the battle with his inner oak.
Thoughts of Hikaru generally made him lose his cool.
The kitsune was one of the worst offenders when it came to spreading those rumors.
While the Magical Usage Council, and more importantly, Keir, could certainly use Hikaru’s help, Martin didn’t lament the kitsune’s general absence.
Hikaru was Warlock Holland’s problem now.
Keir’s continued silence was answer enough. His friend still blamed himself for their former director’s transgressions.
“You didn’t know,” Martin pressed. “None of us did.”
Keir just shook his head. “I know you believe that should make me feel better, but you are very wrong. I’m a gryphon.
” Keir’s slumped shoulders momentarily straightened, increasing his height by a few inches.
“And not a young one at that. I should have been more observant. I should have seen something was amiss. I should have…” Keir let loose a weighty sigh.
“I suppose none of that matters now. All any of us can do is move forward.” Pushing away from the fireplace, Keir paced. “You know what Danzig said.”
Martin did. What he also knew was that Danzig wasn’t a warlock that could be trusted.
“How do we know what he said is true?” Had Tenzen Huxley really hidden potentially devious instruments of destruction within the Magical Usage Compound?
“It may not even be a matter of trusting Danzig, but Huxley himself. Even if Danzig is telling the truth, we don’t know that Huxley was. Perhaps he was merely boasting, or—”
“Huxley wouldn’t have made empty boasts.
His ego wouldn’t have allowed that.” While Keir wasn’t certain about a lot of things, he was confident when it came to Huxley’s ego.
It was, perhaps, the one trait Keir could rely on when it came to their disgraced director.
“I believe there are things hiding within these walls that need to be found.”
Martin shook the leaves from his fingertips, most of them falling into the fire, small wisps of smoke all that was left of his foliage. “Certain enough to bring in a will-o’-the-wisp.”
“Certain enough for that.” Keir’s shoulders sagged again. “We’ve tried everything else. The compound is a maze. Huxley designed and built it himself. Goddess only knows how many rooms and hidey-holes Huxley carved into the rock. We could spend a thousand lifetimes searching and find nothing.”
“Then perhaps we should let them stay hidden, whatever it may be. Ignorance can truly be blissful.”
“I considered that,” Keir answered with a sorrowful tilt of his lips.
“I truly did. Part of me would like to remain ignorant. That voice is overshadowed by my vow never to be fooled again. What we are unaware of can and will hurt us. Maybe not today and maybe not tomorrow, but one day, perhaps generations down the road, will be made to suffer if we do nothing but shove our collective heads into the sand.”
Martin wanted to disagree but found the desire to do so muted by his reluctant agreement. Still, “but a will-o’-the-wisp?”
Keir grunted. “Perhaps it is a little unorthodox. Will-o’-the-wisps find treasure, no matter how deeply it is buried.
Treasure isn’t always gold or jewels. Will-o’-the-wisps find that which others deem worthy of such a term.
I believe it fair to assume that if Huxley went to the effort of hiding anything, he viewed what was hidden as treasure. ”
“True, but that’s not all will-o’-the-wisps do.” Martin pursed his lips. Will-o’-the-wisps were known to find treasure only to lead those searching for it to their deaths. They were mischievous creatures at best, devious at worst.
“I share your concerns, Martin. Truly, I do, but I believe that—”
“Grayson Delarue has arrived.” Elvira’s ghostly visage came into view as her words interrupted Keir. “Shall I show him in?” Elvira cocked a perfectly manicured eyebrow, one hand resting on a curvaceous hip. “I do not like leaving this one alone.”
“Yes, please,” Keir answered, his shoulders once more pulled back, facial features tight. His bravado couldn’t cover the dark circles perpetually cupping his tired eyes. “Thank you, Elvira.”
Elvira disappeared, off to fetch their latest visitor.
What Keir had said earlier was true. He wasn’t certain about anything anymore, especially this latest move.
Martin was right to question him. Time would tell if bringing Grayson Delarue into the fold was a disastrous mistake or their saving grace.
Time was honest like that. Sometimes Keir thought Time might be the most honest force in the world.
-End