Chapter 46 #2
“I wonder how deep it is,” Colin said, feeling someone approaching on one side while Dad hurried up to him on the other side.
He looked up and…Whoa! When he’d approached the lake, the scary statue had been staring straight ahead. Now her face was turned toward him, and she was staring straight at him. How…?
“That depends on which part of the lake you’re measuring.”
It took him a moment to look away from the scary woman’s eyes and realize someone had answered his question.
He turned away from the lake toward the man standing a few feet away—a man who looked ordinary, but the voice scratched at some primal memory, and if that man suddenly turned into a dragon or some other mythical beast, Colin would not have been surprised.
Dad might think he was foolish, but he was certain he’d just met one of the Arcana.
“Captain Forrester,” the man said, sounding polite.
“Mr. Frost,” Dad replied, sounding wary.
Frost looked at Colin. “The lake around the winged woman’s fountain is a foot deeper than the retaining wall that is aboveground. The same is true for the other end of the lake, where the Guide of the Drowned rises out of the water and lights the way home for those lost at sea.”
Colin shivered. Maybe it was Mr. Frost’s voice, but he was almost ready to believe that scary woman holding a lantern could guide the drowned to the shore. “And the middle of the lake?”
“Ah, that’s the mystery. It’s said that the middle of this lake is so deep, it connects with Susurration Sound through an underground river, and at night you can hear the dead whispering a last message to the living.
” Frost smiled. “But no one is in the park after dark, so that’s just a tale people like to tell. ”
Was it just a tale? Things weren’t feeling quite so lame or so tame anymore.
“Have you visited any of the seers in the pavilion?” Frost asked.
Colin stopped himself from rolling his eyes. “Having someone read my palm and tell me I’ll meet a tall dark stranger? Not really my thing.”
“Colin.” Dad’s voice held the same warning as the time the family had been on vacation and Colin had almost stepped on a rattlesnake.
“I was thinking more of asking someone to read your cards,” Frost said.
“Why?” Dad asked.
Frost looked at Colin, then at Dad. “Because knowledge can be the key to survival.” He reached into his jacket pocket and handed Colin a disc.
“No need to see the Ladies Three for this. Either of the readers on the other side of the pavilion can tell you enough, but I recommend Katherine Rose for this reading.”
Frost gave them a nod and walked away.
Colin looked at the disc in his hand and felt like he was riding the craziest roller coaster on the planet. “What just happened?”
“Wyrd happened,” Dad replied quietly. “Wyrd is about choosing your own fate—or trying to change it by having another choice revealed. The disc—and the suggestion—were given to you, so you have to decide for yourself about having the cards read.”
“Is that guy one of the Arcana?”
“Yes. He’s someone who never should be taken lightly.”
“If he’d given the disc to you?”
Dad looked pale—and worried. “I would ask the woman Mr. Frost recommended to read the cards—and I would pay attention to what she said.”
Charles accepted the mug of black coffee and took the chit that would give him another drink at that food stand. Two drinks for a silver coin. Two sandwiches for a gold coin. Simple math. No change required.
“You’re worried?”
Charles turned and studied Lucas Frost. “You don’t make idle suggestions, so yes, I’m worried about what the cards will tell my son.”
“People come here all the time and have the cards read to show them possibilities,” Frost said.
“Some actually pay attention to that information and recognize when a particular moment of choice appears. Others, knowing a possibility might happen, step aside early enough that it never happens. And most are entertained by what is said here and never think about the words until the next time they cross the river—or until fate reveals itself. Will your son pay attention or shrug off what is said? His choice.”
“Yes,” Charles said. “His choice.”
Colin thought it was kind of creepy the way Katherine Rose stared at him while she shuffled her deck of cards. It was like she was trying to see inside his head—or his heart.
Then she looked down and turned over the first card.
Mom had a friend who read tarot, so he’d seen a couple of the decks.
This deck didn’t look like those. Then again, all he’d seen was the first card, which was a man kneeling with his head bowed.
A hooded man with an ax stood beside him, and a young woman, flanked by soldiers, was hiding her face in her hands, as if she couldn’t bear to watch what was going to happen.
“You will make a sacrifice to save someone close to you,” Katherine Rose said.
The next card revealed a moon gate. “That sacrifice may open up the opportunity to make a journey and escape your enemies.” She tapped the moon gate’s keystone.
“Words have power. Pay attention to what the gate reveals before you choose.”
The next card showed six men standing in a group, holding weapons, while the seventh man stood apart, unarmed. “Six enemies,” she said. “Difficult odds, but you can prevail if you think—and remember.”
“Words have power,” Colin murmured.
“Yes.”
The next card showed a man adrift in the sea, clinging to a piece of wood while sharks circled him. “Avoid the water—and the ship. You would not return from that journey.”
“I came on the ferry with my dad,” Colin protested. “You mean I can’t get back home?”
She turned another card, which revealed a sailing ship. A real beauty. The kind of ship he wouldn’t mind crewing for a summer. “Avoid this ship if you want to return home.”
“Will this happen soon?”
She turned another card and shook her head. “After the next equinox.”
Colin frowned at the card. The equinoxes were in the fall and spring, right? “So nothing will happen until spring?”
“The ferry will stop running at the end of the month. The park will be closed to visitors from across the river. Nothing I’ve seen will happen until the ferry is running again.”
She turned the last card. It was a picture of a place. Not somewhere he recognized. Mountains in the background. What looked like a trading post in the foreground. “A safe possibility—if you remember.”
Colin thanked her for the reading and left the pavilion to meet up with Dad at the food stands.
“You okay?” Dad asked.
“Yeah. It was interesting.” Colin looked at the menu boards on the sides of the food stands.
“See anything you like?”
“Lots of things. I’m starving.” He wasn’t, but he knew saying it would amuse Dad and maybe get that worried look out of Dad’s eyes.
“Then let’s sample a few things before we head home.”
Home sounded really good right now.
They ordered a couple of different sandwiches and split them to see which one they liked best. Colin ate more than his share of the order of fries, but Dad didn’t notice. Well, they were superior fries, thick enough to have a crispy outside and still be tender inside.
Dad didn’t say much on the way home, just gave him a long look a couple of times, as if he wanted to say something but didn’t quite dare.
That was okay. There was a lot to think about.
He hadn’t thought to ask if he could use the camera on his phone to take a picture of the cards to help him remember.
Probably wasn’t allowed. Still, the one that he kept puzzling over was the last card.
You would think a trading post would have some kind of sign for its name, but the only identification above the doorway was a hoofprint.
45
Rachel reviewed her personal to-do list. Feathers preened? Check. Breakfast seeds consumed? Check. Short flights around the room once Lucas Frost helped her down to the lower perch? Check.
Rachel fluffed her feathers and wondered what ordinary birds did with the rest of their day. Or were they content with preen, eat, and repeat?
And what was Faulkner doing in the room beyond the “bird room”? Based on the sounds, he was involved in something. Maybe he’d found some toys that a lark could play with too?
Rachel flutter-jumped to the floor and focused on not stepping on her own feet while she moved to where she could see some of the room beyond—the room that might have interesting things to do.
Faulkner was up on a wooden table, busy arranging objects that made a clacking sound. Wooden objects?
She walked up to the table. He paid no attention to her, which was unusual. She could have twittered at him to get his attention, but he probably would come down to the floor, and she wanted to see what he was doing.
The table was too high for her to reach with her current flying skills, but the chair, which was pulled away from the table, was about the same height as the low perch. She flew up to the chair seat, got herself repositioned to face the table, then flew up to the tabletop.
Faulkner was arranging little squares of wood that had letters and symbols. Like a Scrabble game, but it was obvious that these wooden pieces were handmade. Was this meant to teach birds human words, or was it intended as a way for birds to communicate with the Arcana?
Rachel focused on the message Faulkner had been forming.
Faulkner
And Bird
Are Hungry.
Rachel twittered loudly. Faulkner and bird? Bird? She wasn’t bird. She had a name too!
Continuing to twitter loudly, Rachel knocked the b-i-r-d off to the side and found the letters she needed, while Faulkner moved out of her way, doing his best imitation of chastened crow.
r-a-h-e-e-l. Not bird!
Ashley Laxton walked into the room. “What’s going on in here?”
Rachel twittered at her. Faulkner preened a wing feather.
Ashley looked at the message, then rearranged the e and l. “You had those two letters mixed up.”
r-a-h-e-l-e. Yes. Much better.
“Wait there.” Ashley walked out of the room.
“Caw,” Faulkner said.
He sounded pretty pleased with himself, and Rachel had the sudden suspicion that he’d done this to show her that the bird room wasn’t the only safe place.
Lucas Frost set aside the reports he was reviewing and decided to eat the hamburger and fries before they got cold.
There were signs of malice and danger across the river, but nothing had risen close enough to the surface for the Ladies Three to detect the source—probably because there was more than one source.
Since the Arcana were about to close the park to visitors from across the river, the danger would stay across the river for a few months.
But eventually, it would touch Wyrd, and Wyrd—and its Sorcerer King—would respond.
Ashley walked back into the room and opened a door in the credenza that filled a short wall in his office.
“What’s going on in there?” he asked, using a fry to point to the room the Arcana called the playroom.
Holding a small plate, Ashley walked up to his desk, took a fry from his plate, and cut the fry in half. “Faulkner says he and Rahele are hungry.”
Lucas looked at the fry. “Do larks eat fries?”
“I don’t know, but crows do.”
Lucas sighed. “Before Faulkner leads her into trouble, would you do some research about larks and find out what is safe for her to eat and what isn’t?”
“Sure.”
It was the way she grinned when she said it that made him wonder how much she already knew.
Ashley Laxton set the plate on the table and said, “Crows eat a lot of things that aren’t typical foods for larks, so go easy until you know how your innards will react.
You are a lark, but you’re not just a lark.
You have to remember which body you’re in, and that it might react in ways you don’t expect. ”
She returned to the other room.
Faulkner tore open one half of the fry, paused, then tore open the other half.
A steak fry, thick enough that it had a crisp outside with a soft middle. It had been her favorite kind of potato before…Before she allowed her life to be stolen by Alistair Hampton.
She waited, watching Faulkner. They couldn’t blow on the fry to cool it enough to eat, but there had to be a clue for when it was edible.
Finally, Faulkner pulled off a bit of the outside of his half of the fry and ate it. “Caw.”
Good enough. She happily tore into her share.
When they had eaten as much as they could, Faulkner arranged more letters.
Fry Good?
Rachel pushed aside the question mark and pushed a period in its place. She twittered softly.
Fry Good.
46
Albert Palmer poured the last shot of whiskey into his glass and swore.
He told the wife to pick up another bottle, but what did the bitch do?
Bought food for herself and that useless female brat.
It would have been different if Darren was still here.
The boy did need to eat, after all. But Darren was gone, and what that bastard Forrester brought back in a box and garbage bag!
Police tests confirmed that the torn-up mess in the box was, in fact, what was left of Darren.
The boy had just been having a little fun, and this happened to him? It was that place across the river. Strange shit happened because of that place and the freaks who lived there.
How would Forrester feel if the freaks did something like that to his boy?
Palmer downed the last shot and let the thought simmer for a minute.
How would Forrester feel if the same thing happened to his son?
The ferry made its last trip across the river today, so it was too late to do anything until spring. But he could keep things stirred up over the winter, keep people remembering what was done to his boy and who was to blame.
In the spring? If he gave Darren’s friends enough cash and got them stirred up for some payback, they would take the Forrester boy across the river—and make sure that what happened to Darren happened again.