The Gossamer Crown: Book One of The Gossamer Sphere (17 page)

East of England

Kevin tried to produce a sincere smile.  If he believed in the dog – and after the taxi ride he was certainly convinced of Wolfdogge’s abilities – they weren’t walking toward the real Caitlin.  She wasn’t wearing the same outfit she’d had on when she left Felicity’s house; the jeans were so long she’d had to roll them up at the cuff, and although she was her normal height, it looked as if she’d put on about fifty pounds overnight.

Kevin paused on the stone walkway and said loudly enough for the fake Caitlin to hear, “I better go get that dumb dog.”

Zach shot him a quick look.  “Yeah, good idea.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Caitlin said.  “Come inside, I’ve got something important to show you.”

“I’ll bet,” Kevin said under his breath, thinking,
the business end of a gun, probably
. 

Griffey, assuming that’s who it was, went back into the house, but Kevin, instead of following behind Zach and Lizbeth, made a split-second decision to go after Wolfdogge.  Zach could handle whatever Griffey wanted to “show” them, and if he couldn’t, then they’d need Caitlin that much more.

He ran around the side of the house, leapt over a low rock wall, and sprinted across the grassy field.  The growth was heavy with morning dew and his shoes and the bottom of his jeans were soon soaked through.  He looked over his shoulder as he ran.  No one pursued him; the house looked abandoned and lonely against the grey sky.  The only sound was the staccato cawing of a raven.

He slowed, panting, and began to walk.  His illness had taken more out of him than he’d known if he couldn’t even run a couple hundred yards.

Wolfdogge was nowhere in sight.  Kevin whistled, made kissing noises, clapped his hands and called, “Here doggy!” with no response.  A glance down at a patch of muddy ground showed recent footprints, small ones a petite woman like Caitlin might make, and big ones, so big they had to belong to Simon.  On top of one of the big prints was a paw print, smeared as Wolfdogge ran, his claws digging deep.  Simon and Caitlin’s prints pointed to the west, at a right angle to the house and in a different direction from the oak grove and the old church foundation.  However, Wolfdogge seemed to have been headed directly for the trees.

Puzzled, Kevin went in the direction of Caitlin’s prints.  A little further on, he spotted more evidence that they’d come this way, although this time the prints could have been made by his own rather average size eleven shoe.  The grass got thicker and bushes obstructed his progress.  He pushed his way through the shrubs, worried now that he was taking too long.  A prickly branch scratched him, but he bent it out of the way with little regard for the pain.  Passing between two thick bushes, he stopped cold at what he saw.

His first reaction was to recoil in horror at the sight of two bodies lying prone in the grass, but before he’d even formed a thought, a whistling wind brushed the side of his face.  Startled, he ducked a little as Caw landed on his shoulder.  The bird cocked its head and regarded Kevin with its odd blue eyes.  It made a sad kind of rattling chirp in his ear. 

Kevin didn’t want to look, but he forced himself to examine the bodies.  Neither was wearing a coat and each had a streaked spot of reddish-brown discoloration on the shirt.  It looked as if they’d been shot and then left out in the rain.  Simon’s corpse lay face down in the grass, and Len – thank goodness the mud-prints hadn’t been Caitlin’s after all – lay on his back, eyes open and unseeing.  Caw launched himself from Kevin’s shoulder and landed on Len’s chest.

Tears sprang to Kevin’s eyes as the bird began pecking at a button on Len’s shirt.  He backed away, allowing the bushes to once more conceal the crime from casual view.  He looked back at the house, a slow fury building within.  Griffey would have access to a gun – he was a police officer, after all.  At this very moment he could be holding Zach and Lizbeth at bay with it.

Kevin fought his way out of the bushes, oblivious now to the thorns, and broke into a run again, straight for the oak grove.  He prayed as he ran that he wouldn’t find Wolfdogge holding vigil over another body.

Under the canopy of leaves, the ground was not as wet, but when he began to navigate the treacherous root system, he lost his footing on more than one occasion.  He clambered around tree after tree, calling just loudly enough not to be heard at the house, “Wolfdogge!  Caitlin!”

He heard something, was it a response?  The sound was high-pitched, like a dog’s whine, only it echoed strangely.  Even listening carefully, he couldn’t discern its location.  It was as if Wolfdogge were trapped at the bottom of a canyon.

He looked down at the deep black shadows between the roots under his feet.  Had Wolfdogge fallen into one of the clefts under the oak trees?  And if so, how was he supposed to find him without a flashlight?

Caw flew into the grove and alighted on one of the twisted limbs branching from the tree that towered over Kevin.  The raven gave voice to a raucous cry, “Cú faoil, Cú faoil!”

“Yeah, I’m looking for him, thanks,” Kevin said, knowing he’d just imagined that the bird had spoken the Irish name for wolfhound.  Caw glided down and perched on Kevin’s shoulder again, so close that Kevin had to bend his head back to focus on the bird.  He wasn’t worried that Caw would peck him in the eye or anything, in fact, he had the strongest feeling that the bird wanted to help.  He stared into Caw’s blue eye.  “You wouldn’t happen to know where the Cú faoil is, would you?”

Caw cocked his head, and then flew to another tree.  Instead of landing in a branch this time, he landed on a thick root.  Kevin scrambled over.  At the base of the enormous tree was a gaping chasm.  He heard it clearly now, Wolfdogge’s distressed whining.

Without thinking, he braced his hands across the divide and lowered his legs into it.  They swung unimpeded.  He didn’t speculate on the depth of the hole – just dropped down into it.  The fall was considerable; comparable perhaps to jumping from the roof of Simon’s Victorian house.  He landed on a thick mat of old leaves and rolled, striking his head sharply on a root.

“Ow,” he said, looking around.  He might have expected his eyes to take some time to adjust to the near pitch-blackness, but there appeared to be sufficient light from the holes at the base of the trees.  He blinked in wonder at the vast network of roots, serving as roof to the place as well as structural support.  The underneath of the entire grove was hollow.

Inhaling the pungent scent of fertile earth and rotting leaves, he thought how wonderful it smelled here, like and yet very unlike home.  Another deep breath almost made him giddy with pleasure.

An emphatic bark got his attention.  Wolfdogge sat not far away, wagging his tail.  Then Kevin saw her.

She was sprawled in the mulch next to a free-standing root with her pale, thin arms wrapped around it.  He rushed to her side and saw that her hair was matted with blood.  He reached out, but didn’t touch her.

“Caitlin?”

She lifted her head and waved her arm through the air.  “Is that you, Kevin?”

Couldn’t she see him?  Her eyes were open, but they appeared unfocused.

“Did Griffey do this?” he asked, clenching his jaw.

She nodded, but the movement must have pained her because she laid her cheek wearily against the root.  “The trees will heal me.”

“What?”  Her head wound must have muddled her mind.

“This place,” she said, and her words came out as barely a whisper, “is an ancient place of healing.”

“How long have you been here?”  He thought that the healing couldn’t have begun yet if she looked this bad.  The ugly wound on her head had soaked the top of her shirt in blood.

“I don’t know.  It’s dark.”

“It’s not that dark, Caitlin.  I can see you clearly.”

A grating sound came from between her lips.  It took him a moment to realize she was laughing.  “You can see, can’t you?  I’m so glad you’re coming in to your heritage.”

He suddenly understood.  The familiar smell of the place, the feeling of homecoming.  He’d spent his life above ground, when his heart had always been below.  He placed his hand on the ancient oak root and instantly felt a powerful presence, like a choir was silently harmonizing in his head.  Disconcerted, he dropped his hand.

“Did you find the crown?” he asked.  “Does Griffey have it?”

“No.  Simon told him Werka took it away.”  She reached out blindly and grasped Kevin’s arm.  Her voice sounded stronger to him when she asked, “Where are Zach and Lizbeth?  He’s much too dangerous for them to take on alone.”

Kevin sighed.  He didn’t want to leave Caitlin here, but if Zach and Lizbeth needed him…

Then Caitlin astonished him by getting to her feet.  Wolfdogge moved to her side and she grasped his scruff, allowing the dog to support her.  “Let’s go.”

“You can’t-”

“I can.  Humans were not the only ones affected by the biometal.  This oak grove must have been home to druids long ago.  The trees have given me back my strength.  They did it the moment you gave them communion.”

East of England

With trepidation, Lizbeth entered the dark interior of the house behind Zach and closed the front door behind them.  So far, “Caitlin” seemed unaware that Kevin had run after Wolfdogge.

Instead of following Caitlin into the room with the gruesome taxidermy display, Zach positioned himself in the doorway, effectively blocking Lizbeth from getting past him.  She pushed, but he resisted, and she thought she understood.  The longer they hid the fact that Kevin hadn’t come into the house with them, the better.  If they lingered here, “Caitlin” would assume Kevin was standing in the gloom behind them.

Caitlin turned and in a very un-Caitlin-like manner asked, “Are you kids alright?”

Lizbeth panicked as it occurred to her that whoever was posing as Caitlin didn’t have to wait for a response.  She could easily read their minds and find out for herself if they were “alright.” 

One of the first magic tricks Lizbeth had ever learned came to mind; misdirecting the audience to look at one hand while the other palms a coin.  If she could misdirect the fake Caitlin long enough to prevent her from reading their minds, maybe Kevin would find the real Caitlin in time.

“Actually,” she said loudly, “We’re not so great.  After you left Felicity’s house, her dog came in, but it wasn’t her dog, it changed into
Brian Griffey
– the guy who was supposed to have died on the Titanic –
right before our eyes
, and then he found out that you were taking the ferry because he read Felicity’s
mind
, but before he could go after you, Zach went after
him
and they got into a fight, but then Griffey
changed into a snake
!”

Halfway through her dramatic rant she stopped to take a breath.  Zach turned to her with an appalled look on his face.

“Lizbeth,” he said, but she ignored him.  Her misdirection must have been convincing enough so far, because Caitlin’s eyes still looked normal.

She launched into another effusive run-on sentence.  “Then Zach was having a hard time because he had a huge green
monster
wrapped around him, so I took this dagger off the wall and
stabbed it
, and it turned back into a dog and ran across the room and then
left,
and then there was this
earthquake
, and-”

“Yes, well, I wanted to talk to you about Mr. Griffey,” Caitlin said.  “He and I had a disagreement, but we’re quite over it now, and I want to be sure you show him the respect he deserves.”

Over Caitlin’s shoulder Lizbeth saw out the dining room window that Kevin had run into view.  He was headed straight for the old oak grove.  To ensure that Caitlin didn’t get distracted and turn around, Lizbeth barreled on. 

“Oh, and poor
Kevin
,” here she looked to the right as if she could see him standing there out of Caitlin’s sight, “found out that Griffey is his
father
.  Or maybe his grandfather, we’re not sure, because Felicity-”

That did the trick.  Lizbeth had Caitlin’s full attention now, as she burst out, “What?”

Lizbeth turned to the phantom Kevin again.  “Wait, Kev, I’m sorry!”  Then she looked back at Caitlin and said by way of clarification, “He went upstairs.  Yeah, he’s all torn up about it.”

A sneak peek at Zach told her his initial confusion at her misdirection tactic had been replaced with admiration.  In her mind, she clearly heard the words, “
I think I love you
.”

She didn’t take time to ponder whether he really meant it or if he was simply expressing approval for her strategy, because Caitlin sank down on the stiffly upholstered sofa.

“It can’t be,” she said quietly.

Lizbeth felt safe enough to step fully into the room now that “Kevin” had gone upstairs.  She sat next to Caitlin and put her arm around her.  “Why not?”

Caitlin winced and scooted a few inches away on the sofa.  Lizbeth trailed her fingers softly across the back of Caitlin’s shirt before dropping her arm.  There was a raised bump under the fabric, probably a bandage from where Lizbeth had stabbed her.  It was definitely Griffey, although Lizbeth had never doubted it.

Caitlin-Griffey took a deep breath and tugged his collar as if it were uncomfortable.  “Ah, well, Mr. Griffey couldn’t have been his father.”

“So who was?” Zach asked.

To forestall Caitlin-Griffey from denying any knowledge of it, Lizbeth prompted, “Felicity said you knew.”

“There was a woman once,” Caitlin-Griffey replied, with a sideways shift of the jaw.  “She died of an infection a few days after childbirth and Griffey’s name was on the birth certificate.  He took care of the kid for a week, but it got sick and he didn’t know what else to do.  He drove to a hospital in another state and left it there.”

“That’s terrible.  Felicity said babies between fae and humans rarely survived,” Lizbeth said.

Caitlin-Griffey, eyes downcast, nodded.  “I – he thought it was going to die.  He couldn’t risk sticking around while the doctors tried to figure out why.”

Lizbeth thought Griffey’s actions were indefensible, but she didn’t want to agitate him, so she said, “It wasn’t his fault.  What else was he supposed to do?”

Caitlin-Griffey lifted his eyes.  They were swirling.  Adrenaline flooded Lizbeth’s system, but before she could move, he clamped a hand on her arm.  Within seconds, the Griffey they were familiar with was sitting next to her.

He said, “I won’t hurt you.  I promise.  Just give me a few minutes to go upstairs and talk to my son.”

At that moment, Lizbeth was simply grateful that Griffey’s eyes were normal.  If he were still reading her mind, if he used his abilities to reach out for a Kevin who wasn’t there, they’d never get this chance again.  The chance to run.

She and Zach stood by the door as Griffey trudged slowly up the staircase.  There were three rooms he’d have to look inside before it became obvious Kevin wasn’t up there.  As soon as she lost sight of him on the landing, Lizbeth opened the heavy front door.  Zach held it for her as she slipped out.

They ran in the direction Kevin had gone, around the house and across the field toward the oak grove.  As she ran, she saw ahead of her that Kevin had found Wolfdogge, and more importantly, the real Caitlin.  He had his arm around her and seemed to be supporting her as they walked.  A little closer and Lizbeth saw why – Caitlin’s shoulder and shirtfront were covered in what looked like blood.

Over the rhythmic sound of her feet hitting the grass, Lizbeth heard a strange thumping noise coming up fast behind them.  She glanced over her shoulder and did a quick double-take.  A bounding kangaroo was rapidly gaining ground.  She stumbled and fell in the grass.  Zach stopped and put himself between her and the kangaroo, taking a defensive martial arts stance.  But the unmistakable growling scream of a big cat shredded the air and the kangaroo leapt past them to meet the white jaguar head on.