Divine by Choice (15 page)

“Clint, Rhiannon didn't want to be mated with ClanFintan because he would have cramped her style. She wasn't exactly a one-man woman.” Even if that one man was a shapeshifting centaur and High Shaman of his people, I added to myself.

“Yes, I found that out.”

The bleak tone of his voice sobered me. It shouldn't be so hard for me to remember that this man had been used and hurt by my mirror. By now I should be getting used to dealing with the consequences of her messes.

“So—what was funny?”

“Uh,” I faltered. “Your, um, mirror image in Partholon—let's just say he's quite a horseman.” Literally—horse
man.
I had to stifle another episode of giggles. God, I crack myself up.

“That just goes to prove what you've been saying all along about you and Rhiannon. Mirror images can be very different.” He looked back over his shoulder and raised one eyebrow at me, using an expression that was so like ClanFintan I couldn't help but smile warmly in response.

“Exactly.”

He certainly was cute.

Our eyes locked and he stumbled, almost running headfirst into a tree. I looked away quickly, pretending not to notice (and practically chewing a bloody hole in the side of my cheek to keep from laughing).

The small trail took an abrupt right turn and headed steeply uphill, causing us to shift our wavering concentration back to what I considered to be the way too strenuous process of hiking.

No wonder there's no such thing as Backpacking Barbie.

The trail continued to snake uphill and Clint set a good pace. I was pleased that I was breathing steadily, not huffing and puffing, and it certainly wasn't a strain for me to keep up with him. Actually, I realized that the farther we went into the forest, the more invigorated I felt. It was like I was getting my second, third and fourth wind. I grinned at myself, loving the feel of my leg muscles pumping smoothly as I climbed steadily, following Clint's broad back.

I felt so good that I had time to look around. The trees were dense and thick, reminding me of something out of a
National Geographic
snapshot. Oaks and hackberries mixed harmoniously with the evergreen pines and junipers; their arms entwined to block out all but just a glimpse of the slate-colored morning sky. The undergrowth was carpeted with dead leaves, broken branches and prickly tufts of some kind of bramble. It looked like the forest fairies had forgotten to vacuum.

Then I heard the whispering. At first I thought it was the wind through the empty branches. But when I looked up I saw that the branches weren't moving. There was very little breeze, certainly not enough to stir the bare branches noisily.

I passed an especially large tree that I had to literally step around because its thick base almost blocked the path of the trail. My arm brushed against its weathered trunk.

“Welcome, Beloved.”
The teasing breeze solidified into words within my mind and I jolted to a stop.

“Shannon?” Several yards down the path Clint stopped, too.

“I heard something.” I said inanely.

He looked sharply around, listening intently before he replied. “There's no one here.”

“No,” I said slowly, and pointed to my head. “I heard something in here.”

“What did you hear?” His tone was excited as he hurried back down the path to me.

“Something welcomed me.” My voice caught. “And called me Beloved.” The name my Goddess calls me, I thought, but didn't say out loud.

He looked around us and his eyes came to rest on the huge tree I had just passed. “Maybe it was this ancient one.” He stepped to the tree and pulled the glove off his right hand. Resting his open palm against the rough bark, he closed his eyes, his face tight with concentration. Then the lines on his
brow smoothed and his lips lifted in a soft smile. He opened his eyes and nodded encouragingly for me to join him.

Remembering the electric zap I'd received last time I'd tried to “listen” to a tree, I froze.

When I didn't move, he reached out and took my hand in his and pressed it firmly against the tree.

I tensed, unconsciously waiting for something horrible to happen. But this time was different. First I felt a pleasant warmth beneath my hand, like it was resting on the skin of a living animal. Then the warmth flowed into my body through my palm, and with it came a wonderful rush of emotion, as if I had just unexpectedly met an old friend.

“Welcome, Beloved of Epona!”
This time there was no mistaking them for the wind; the words rang clearly in my mind.

“Oh!” I breathed in awe, raising my other hand to press it, too, firmly against the ancient bark. “You know who I am!”

“Yesss…”
The internal voice trailed off in a way that reminded me very much of delighted feminine laughter.

“Oh, Clint!” I stepped closer to the tree, laying my cheek against its rough side. “She knows me.” I blinked tears back, unabashedly happy at being hailed as Epona's Beloved again.

“The forest speaks to you.” He sounded pleased.

I nodded happily, not wanting to let loose of the tree.

“If they know who I am, surely that means they'll help me get back to Partholon!” I breathed deeply and sent a silent request to the ancient spirit of the tree.

“Then we should get moving.” The pleasure was gone from his voice, replaced with grim finality.

I blinked in surprise, feeling an echo of his sorrow within the tree.

Caressing the bark in parting, my mind whispered to the tree that he was not my husband…not my husband…not my husband. I stepped slowly away from the oak.

“You're right.” I steeled myself against my emerging feelings for the man who stood so close to me. “I need to be going.”

Clint nodded jerkily and turned, abruptly retracing his steps. I fell in again behind him, listening in amazement to the whispers that brushed through my mind.

“Hail, Epona!”

“Well met, Beloved!”

“Blessings upon you!”

“We welcome you, Epona's Beloved!”

I felt submerged in joy at this acceptance and acknowledgment, and took every opportunity I could to brush my fingers caressingly against the trunks and limbs of the trees closest to the path. Each time I touched a tree, especially one of the older, thicker giants, a surge of warmth passed through my fingers and into my body. Very soon I realized that with the surge came energy.

“Hey!” I yelled to Clint's back. “I'm getting some kind of power rush from these trees!”

“I know,” he said without turning to look at me or slowing his pace.

I paused long enough to let my hand linger down the spine of another gnarled trunk. Zap! The warmth poured into my body. “Oh, man! It's like I'm friggin Wonder Woman or something.” I put my hands to my cold cheeks and felt the lingering heat that had not come from my body. I swear, if I'd untied my hair it would have crackled and stood on end (I mean even more than it usually does).

Suddenly Clint stopped and turned to face me. “Not like a superhero, like a goddess.”

“Yes,” I said breathlessly as my heart lurched at his words. “Yes,” I repeated, “divine. And not divine because of a mistake, divine by choice.”

Clint lifted his hand, almost touching my cheek. A raw look
of longing crossed his familiar features. It made me ache, but I didn't move toward him. I couldn't. His hand dropped limply back to his side and he broke our gaze. Looking to the right of the path, he pointed.

“It's this way. Follow me.”

I nodded enthusiastically, eager to be off the path and even more immersed within the forest. I forced myself to ignore his somber expression and the slump of his broad shoulders.

We hadn't gone more than one hundred paces when we broke free of the trees and underbrush and stood at the edge of a small clearing. I gasped and looked around me in amazement.

“Holy shit! It's exactly like it was in Partholon.”

The same clear, tranquil stream gurgled through the glade, its bright waters running into the forest away from us. But my eyes weren't focused on the stream; they were drawn to the two enormous pin oaks that straddled it. As they had in Partholon, their massive branches were filled with verdant leaves, belying the frigid November weather. Their limbs were so entwined that it was impossible to tell where one tree ended and the other began. It was as if time had fused them together. Their thick trunks were covered with luminous moss that glowed and beckoned.

Without a word, Clint and I started walking toward the trees together. I noticed how still the air had become, and the odd absence of birdsong. The closer we got to the trees, the more I could feel them. It was like they radiated a beacon, and I was the magnet it drew. Halting within touching distance, I pulled my attention from the trees and looked at Clint.

“What now?” My voice sounded strained.

“What I did before,” he said quietly, as if we were in church, “was to concentrate on pulling the power from the forest into a single ball within me.”

I blinked in surprise and he gave me a fleeting smile.

“Yes, I experience the power of this forest, too. Not as much as you do. It doesn't flow freely into me, but I am able to tap into it. Usually I use it to strengthen myself physically.”

“You mean like Storm from the X-Men uses the power of wind to fly or something?” I was only half joking. And yes, I know I'm a dork.

“Not exactly.” His smile grew. “More like super Tylenol for my stiff back.”

No wonder he seemed so agile after he entered the forest. I nodded in understanding and he continued.

“After I pulled what power I could within me, I concentrated on Rhiannon and all the reasons why she should not be in this world. Then I focused on your aura, trying to call you to me. As you already told me, I didn't actually call you, but your horse, to the clearing.”

“I could hear the trees calling me once I got here,” I said.

“Yes, so I concentrated on slinging Rhiannon there and you here, and when you touched the trees I grabbed you and pulled.” He made a yanking motion with his hands. “I have no idea why Rhiannon wasn't affected, but here you are.”

“Okay, well…” I rubbed my hands together and stepped determinedly to the trees. “At least this time we don't have to worry about concentrating on Rhiannon. She can stay the hell here. Let's just get me home.”

I straddled the stream, just as I remembered doing before I had been yanked here. Resolutely I raised my hands and lay their open palms against the emerald moss. The jolt of warmth I felt zap into my hands thrilled me with its intensity.

Through gritted teeth I said to Clint, “I don't think finding enough power will be a problem. I feel like I could leap friggin tall buildings in a single bound.”

“Concentrate on Partholon.”

Clint's voice had deepened so that he sounded so much like ClanFintan I looked quickly up at him, almost expecting to see my husband in his place. No, my mind reminded me as I studied his very human features. It's just his mirror; it's not him.

“Go ahead, Shannon my girl.” His voice had dropped so low that I had to strain to hear him above the powerful buzzing of the trees. “Go back to him. Go home.”

“Thank you,” I whispered through unexpected tears before I turned my attention to the trees.

Bowing my head, I pressed my hands more firmly against their mossy sides and stared down into the clear waters of the little stream. It was through them that I had first glimpsed this world again, so it made sense that they held part of the key to Partholon.

I concentrated. Epi came to my mind first, and I let my memory call up the softness of her muzzle as she nuzzled me after whickering a welcome. How her liquid brown eyes seemed to reflect all the best aspects of my soul. And I remembered Alanna, not as a mirror of my friend from this world, but as I had come to love her for herself. Her own unique sweetness and sense of humor, and the way she loved to manage me.

Then I let images of ClanFintan flood my mind. I thought about how he had struggled not to fall in love with me, believing at first that I was Rhiannon, but how he was unable to maintain his unfeeling distance. How he had protected me and loved me. The way he brushed my curls back from my face before he cupped my chin, and the warmth of his body as he bent his lips to mine.

Pushing gently, I tested the tree trunks, hoping to feel them becoming soft under my hands. They were firm and unmoving. I sighed in exasperation and dropped my palms from the trees.

“It's not working.” I turned to Clint. “Maybe you have to help. I mean, you got me here, maybe you have to be involved in getting me back.” I motioned to the other side of the trees. “Why don't you stand across from me, just like I'm standing on this side. Try thinking about that slingshot thing, like you did right before the trees got soft and you grabbed me through them.”