“All right, I would like to know if you still want me to do…whatever it is your pledges do. Please let me know. And if you’re still interested in me, then I’ll do what I can to be worthy.” Okay, that sounds a little corny. “You know what I mean. I hope. Thank you…” Then, because I wasn’t sure how to end the conversation, I added, “January Jaxson, signing off. Over and out.”
I opened my eyes and sat back, propping against the sofa. The light splashing across the snow-covered trees hit me just right so that it was like I was watching a scintillating ice sculpture, hanging in front of me. The snow sparkled, twinkling like diamonds. As I began to mouth Diamonds are a girl’s best friend, the sculpture suddenly moved.
I stopped.
The tree had shifted. Or maybe the snow had just fallen off? No, there was definitely a figure outside the window by the tree. I slowly stood, setting the crystal ball on the sofa, and walked over to the window, staring into the side yard. There, dancing on the snow, was a figure cloaked in white and green. At first I thought I was imagining things because the figure in the cloak seemed to have tree boughs for limbs, and her hair, formed of ivy and vines, trailed down her back. I leaned closer, staring as she swung around to face me.
The tree maiden stretched her arms wide in a joyful stance, and then she whirled again, her cloak of snow and ivy spinning out around from her. As she spun, her countenance changed. First she was the tree woman, then I caught a glimpse of a human face, and back to the tree and back to the maiden. When she finally stopped, I found myself staring at the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. A triumphant look on her face, her hair fell to the ground, burgundy strands that shimmered like soft metal.
A sudden fear took hold of me. Or perhaps it was awe. Realizing I was in the presence of an ancient spirit who was so magical that I couldn’t begin to know her power, I started to lower my head. Her beauty was almost painful to look at.
Fear not, nor lower your eyes, the spirit’s voice echoed in my ears, but the voice was so different from Esmara’s. Cool and distant, vibrant and powerful, so old the voice was beyond reckoning, the words slowly slid into my thoughts one by one.
Druantia…
Yes. You called and so I have answered. You stand at a crossroads today. You can continue with me, or you may leave with no dishonor.
I was suddenly standing before her and the house was gone. We were in the middle of a large field and overhead, the sky churned with snowflakes, pouring down so thick that I could barely see anything else.
Druantia?
She nodded, still silent. Then, slowly, she said, So you choose to come home to me, child? I will have you. Mind your manners. Mind the garden. Mind the heart. But over everything, mind your spirit and walk your path. Let the rest go by.
And with a wave of the hand, I opened my eyes and I was back in my library.
Chapter Nineteen
“I tell you, I have no idea where we were. But she came at my call, and I suppose I got what I wanted—a confirmation that she’s actually going to help me. That I’m pledged to her now as an adult. At least, I think she’ll help. I’m not certain yet.” We were all bundled in Rowan’s car. She was driving and while I admired her courage, I quickly discovered I preferred drivers who met the road with less of a challenging attitude.
“She accepted you,” Rowan said. Then, after a pause, she said, “Shall we discuss the elephant in the room? The fact that you are my granddaughter?”
I wanted to talk to her about it, but I glanced out the window into the darkening sky. “Actually, why don’t we leave that until after we mop up the ghosts? I’m already anxious enough as it is.”
“That will work,” Rowan said.
She swung wide off of Arnica Avenue onto the road leading into town, and I expected the vehicle to skid, but miraculously, it stayed on the road. In fact, even though she was driving like it was any normal day without any adverse conditions, the car stayed perfectly aligned on the road. No skidding, no sliding.
Ari and I were sitting in the back seat. Aunt Teran was riding shotgun, and she glanced back at my quizzical face. “Rowan protects her vehicles so well that they practically drive themselves.”
“All you have to do is get to know them,” Rowan said. “So, does everyone know their part?”
“I start on the main floor and set one of the traps in the kitchen. Aunt Teran takes the second floor, Ari the third, and you head for the basement. We attack on all fronts at once.” I glanced down at the four bags of ritual gear sitting between Ari and me.
“Right. Don’t waver, don’t tarry, don’t let fear paralyze you. We need to make this a coordinated attack or we’ll be up the proverbial creek.” She fell silent, and we all settled back, each wrapped in our own thoughts.
We reached the Spit & Whistle at seven-thirty and as I stared up at the top of the building, I once again saw lights flashing in the windows, and I could hear the faint sound of piano music and heels on wooden plank flooring.
Rowan stared at the restaurant for a moment, then shook her head. “They’re active, all right. I’m glad you didn’t try this alone.”
We got out of the car and armed ourselves. I draped my bag over my shoulder. The lodestone in there was heavy, and we had charged all of them in circle before heading out, so the bag hummed with energy. I had also brought my mother’s athame with me, along with a switchblade.
Switchblades were illegal in the state, but I had found it in the library in my father’s desk, and for some reason, it felt right to bring it. The blade was resting in the pocket of my jacket where I could get at it easily. Other than that, my bag contained Protection spray, Cleanse-All, an herbal powder my mother had made, and a dozen little crystals I had found in one of the apothecary chest’s drawers. They had been labeled “Aqua Aura ghost repellents,” and it occurred to me they might come in handy.
I wasn’t sure what else besides Ari and Teran had in their bags other than the lodestones, but Rowan had a big-assed ritual sword with her that had a black hilt, inset with a fiery ruby. The blade was beautiful—solid bronze—and the energy surrounding it was so strong that I wasn’t sure who intimidated me most—the ghosts or my grandmother.
My grandmother. Again, the thought ricocheted through my brain. Rowan Firesong was my grandma. I somehow couldn’t imagine calling her that—or even worse, “Granny.” Nope. File that under lists of things never to do.
“All right, are we ready?” I asked.
“Set and able,” Ari said.
I turned to Rowan. “As soon as we finish with our levels, we meet you in the basement, right?”
She nodded. “We have to clear out the other ghosts if possible before I can attempt to close that portal. Watch out for the shadow man, though. He’s likely to notice what we’re doing and try to prevent us from succeeding.”
As we entered the building, there was a peculiar hush in the air, the kind where you walk into a room and you know people were talking about you but they suddenly shut up when you appear. The tension hung heavy, poised to strike.
I moved off to one side and pointed out where the staircase was. Teran, Ari, and Rowan vanished, Rowan descending into the basement, the other two climbing toward the upper levels. Meanwhile, I looked around, trying to ascertain where to set the trap. The kitchen would probably be best since that was where Ida Johansen had died.