Healing Hands (The Queen of the Night series Book 2) (9 page)

“If we play this right, he’ll never know. Corey can’t see his own future, remember?”

Chapter Thirteen

Testing

I’d barely had time to find my place in each class in respect to its syllabus and textbook when all learning stopped for a week of state-wide standardized testing. I didn’t worry about how I’d do on the tests. California had the most difficult standardized educational tests in the country, and I’d always done well on them, but it was disorienting.

At the same time, Fiona and Evan’s mom, Jenny, had decided the time had come to determine the extent of Corey’s and my magical abilities. They’d worked out a schedule between us. After school on Mondays and Wednesdays, I went to Fiona’s store and worked with her in the secret room. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, I went to the library to work with Jenny. Corey had the opposite schedule.

On Saturday mornings I took driving lessons using Aunt Rose’s sedan at the Eastern Panhandle School of Driving.

***

It was after 4:30 in the afternoon when I reached the secret room. The beautifully painted, Chinese sliding panel doors stood unlocked, but closed. I knew better to walk in the room unannounced. Fiona might be treating a patient. I carefully knocked first.

“Enter,” she called from the other side of the panels. I slid one open and ducked inside, closing it behind me. Rose lay on the exam table. For a moment, fear washed over me.
Don’t let her be sick too
, I silently prayed.

“Don’t worry,” called Fiona from across the room. “Rose has offered to be our patient for today. Come and stand over here.”  As I approached, I let out a relieved breath and offered another silent prayer of thanks.

“Okay, let’s try scanning first. You’ve seen me do it many times. Hold your hands over her body and try to imagine what’s going on inside of it.”

“I can see from here she’s in perfect health.” I could scan and diagnose many times faster with my healer vision than a typical Healer might with their hands.

“Yes, but you won’t be able to heal people with your gaze. You have to get used to using the energy in your own life force through your hands if you’re ever going to heal people magically.”

“That’s a good point. Okay. I’m holding my hands over her. Now what do I do?”

“All right,” Fiona covered my hands with hers and directed me to a place over Rose’s stomach. She took her hands away.

“Feel the energy flow through you to Rose. Clear your mind and think of nothing else but her stomach. Try to see what’s going on inside her body.”

I did as she instructed. No energy radiated through my hands. In the past, Fiona had used my life energy to amplify her own. I knew the sensation of having energy coursing through me into another person. It tingled and hummed all at the same time. I tried focusing my mind, concentrating hard. Still, no magic flowed. I dropped my hands and stepped back. “What’s wrong with me?”

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Fiona said crisply. I could tell she was disappointed I didn’t take to energy-touch therapy as quickly as I’d acquired my healer vision. She continued, “Normally a girl your age would have spent more than a decade at her great-aunt’s side watching and learning. You’ve only been at this for six months, and worked with me for a mere three of those. Let’s take a step back. Why don’t I give you some visualization exercises to practice?”

Visualization exercises
, I thought,
that’s pre-school level for magical people
. I sighed and let her show me the meditations, hoping that Corey fared better at the library.

***

Later, as I got ready to walk back to the house, I overheard Fiona and Rose talking in her office.

“Do you think she lacks the Healing Hands gift?” Rose asked nervously.

“No, that’s not possible, or I wouldn’t be able to pull energy from her to amplify my own healing abilities. She’s probably got an emotional block caused by all the stress she’s been under lately. It’ll come to her, in time.”

“Will it come soon enough to save us?”

“There’s no way to know that.”

***

By Friday, I was sure my head would explode. The WESTEST at the school wasn’t hard; I’d learned the material in every subject, but I had to concentrate for hours to pull it all from my brain. Jenny made me memorize all the possible aura colors and their meanings. I wasn’t half Poet with a great memory, so I had to concentrate for her as well. I still practiced visualizing the flow of energy down through my body to my hands for Fiona.

Basically, I was brain-fried. Pulling on a pair of ratty sweatpants and a tank top, I threw myself on the couch with every intention of watching mindless television until I turned into a vegetable. Then Evan walked into the den.
Did he have his own key
?  He certainly never bothered to knock when walking into Fiona’s cabin. It seemed like he was just as casual in this house. I refused to move and looked at him from my sprawled position.

“What?”

He didn’t answer right away. He stared slack-jawed at my position on the couch. Specifically, he stared at my tank top. That’s when I remembered I hadn’t bothered to put on a bra.

“Evan,” I snapped at him, a little too sharply.

He closed his mouth. “Huh?”

“Why are you here?”  I enunciated each word carefully. Then, since he still didn’t catch my drift, I added, “I’m up here…my eyes, they’re up here.”  I motioned with the remote to my face.

“Oh yeah, sorry,” he ran a hand through his hair. Damn him, we’d agreed to be friends. His reaction violated our agreement.

I repeated my question.

He pulled himself together. “Come on, get dressed. We have someplace we need to go.”

“No,” I groaned, “it’s Friday. I’m tired. I just want to sit here and get stupid.”

“Not tonight you don’t. I went through a lot of trouble to arrange this. Go put on real clothes. Make sure they’re warm, ‘cause it’s snowing again.” 

Snow was a new concept for me. Everyone said we’d been lucky not to have too much of it this year, but I’d been disappointed. I pulled myself off the couch. Snow was worth the effort of getting dressed.

***

Evan drove so we wouldn’t have to walk after dark, but we only traveled a few blocks before he parked behind the First Presbyterian Church.

“Why are we going to church?” I asked. It wasn’t even our church.

“You’ll see,” he replied, cryptically.

He helped me walk across the snow-covered gravel parking lot, but when we got to the brick path running alongside the church, he veered me in the other direction. We entered the Fellowship Hall and stamped the snow out of our boots. Then he led me down the stairs to a classroom in the basement.

“Evan, thank you for coming tonight,” a kindly faced woman with graying hair and wire-rimmed glasses greeted him. “And this must be Maggie; it’s so nice to meet you.”  She held out a hand.

I shook it tentatively, looking to Evan for explanation.

“Mags, meet Susan Anderson. Oh,” he said, reaching into the breast pocket of his jacket, “take these, you’ll need them.”  He handed me a few folded pieces of paper.

I opened them. “They’re sheet music. Why?”  I noticed the room housed a piano, a few music stands and a couple of chairs. I looked more closely at the music. “Hey, this was my audition piece for Valkyries Choir last year.”

“I know,” he replied simply. “Your mom videotaped your audition, and e-mailed it to Rose who gave it to me. Corey found the music in your bookcase.”

Susan looked at me expectantly.

“I don’t understand.”

Evan took the sheet music from my hand and gave it to Susan who took it over to the piano.

“Did you want to warm up?”

“You want me to sing?” I asked, flabbergasted.

She nodded, “that’s why we’re here. Didn’t Evan tell you?  I’m the director of the Sleepy Creek Youth Chorale. We’re part of a non-profit company called The Community Choir, Inc. We promote music in Morgan County.” 

She looked pointedly at Evan...So did I.

He grinned from ear-to-ear. “You said you missed being in the choir. Here’s your chance to be in another one.”

I thought about it and shrugged. Not having anything to lose. Susan walked me through a couple of vocal warm-up exercises. Then I gave her a few minutes to look over the music. When she was ready, I took my place by the piano. Standing straight, opening my diaphragm, I didn’t need to see the music. I’d performed this piece many times.

As the air flowed through my lungs and past my larynx, I relaxed. Singing made me feel free. Closing my eyes, I let the words flow. My voice was an endless wave on the open ocean, undulating with the terrain of the sea bed of music. This was better than mindless TV. Even my headache had disappeared by the time I’d finished.

“Well, you weren’t exaggerating, Evan,” Susan said after the last note had faded away. She turned to me. “Welcome to the Sleepy Creek Youth Chorale, Miss Stewart. We meet in the great hall of this building every Tuesday at 4:45 PM. We perform at least five concerts a year. You’ll need to get a copy of the music for this season and a uniform.”

“I’ll make sure she gets straightened out, Ms. Anderson,” Evan nodded.

“Since you’re here, Evan, why don’t we run through your solo?”

“Sure, why not.”

I walked over and took a seat. Evan hadn’t told me he sang.
Jerk.
Ms. Anderson flipped through a manila folder on the top of the upright piano until she found the music she sought. She played ascending scales, five notes at a time, raising a half step with every repeat of the pattern. Evan took a deep breath and started warming his voice.

I stared fixated with drool pouring out of my mouth.
Dang, the boy could sing
. I’d guessed he sang baritone. I had a soft spot for them. I sang alto, and considered the deeper voice a better complement to my own.

He started to sing his solo, an old Celtic ballad. His voice was as clear as bells. He had a natural vibrato that resounded with every long tone. It reminded me of standing on top of a mountain at sunrise. His singing was like the autumn wind blowing red, gold and orange leaves of musical notes around like whirling dervishes. I felt like I was melting into soppy goo right there in my chair. Evan was going to have to scrape me off the floor and carry me back to the Jeep in a plastic bin. I didn’t even notice when he and Ms. Anderson stopped occasionally, discussed an intricate detail of his performance, and continued to rehearse. When they’d finished and he walked over to collect me, I wondered if my legs would carry my weight.

I looked up at him, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He shrugged. “It never came up in conversation. Come on, let’s get you back before there’s two feet on the ground and we can’t drive at all.”

“What about feet?” I mumbled, still drooling.

“It’s still snowing,” he said insistently. “I want to get back before it’s too deep to drive.”

“Oh, okay.”  I took his hand. Vaguely, I remembered to thank Susan Anderson and tell her how much I looked forward to being in her choir. Then he led me out toward the car. I’d developed a few crushes on guys who sang well over the years. It was a character flaw of mine. Things had just gotten a lot more complicated for me. The most frustrating part was that he knew it. He understood exactly how his singing had affected my equilibrium. It made him cockier than ever.
Jerk
.

***

He was right about the snow also. Darkness had fallen when we emerged from the fellowship hall. The snow was already a foot deep in the parking lot. I had no experience walking in the snow and leaned on him heavily to keep from slipping. He enjoyed that, too. The house was only a few blocks away, but it took nearly an hour to get home. He took time to clear the snow off the Jeep and around the tires so we could get traction in the parking lot. The plows hadn’t started to clear the roads, so we had to limp our way through the sloppy streets. The tires of other vehicles had packed down the snow into slippery patches of ice and made moguls out of Washington Street. By the time we got back, we were wet and cold. Over a foot of snow covered the ground.

***

Rose took one look at us and insisted that Evan spend the night in the den. She made us take hot showers and drink homemade cocoa. She found a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt of Pat’s so Evan could change. We only had one bathroom in the house and Evan felt no qualms about his own nudity. I emerged from my room after changing back into sweatpants and a t-shirt when he walked out of the shower wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips. The sight of him shirtless after hearing him sing was more than my poor overstimulated senses could handle. I excused myself and went to bed early.

Chapter Fourteen

the Moon Garden

I woke up to a disturbing, eerie silence, too quiet for comfort. No car noises sounded on the street. No birds sang in the backyard. No people called to each other within or without the house. The sun shone more brightly through my bedroom window than it ever had. Filled with curiosity, I slipped out of bed and tiptoed to the window, pulled back the blinds and looked into the backyard. What I saw shocked and scared me to my bones.

Letting out a squeal of surprise, I dashed from the room, grabbing a sweatshirt from the back of my desk chair. When I got to the back door I found my boots and pulled one on while throwing open the door and racing into the cold. More than two feet of snow covered the ground. With only the one boot, my other foot froze on contact as my bare leg sunk down into the slippery, powdered ice. I struggled to pull the other boot on without falling on my backside.

Although I had never seen this much snow in one place in my life, it didn’t simultaneously compel and frighten me. The lack of snow held my attention. The little patch of garden had been here all along, but it had been hidden behind piles of fallen leaves, weathered wooden lawn furniture and other plants. With the blanket of white covering everything else, the square of beautiful green leaves and white flowers stood out in stark contrast. I trudged over to get a closer look.

These weren’t evergreen plants. By nature, these plants only bloomed in the summer. It was easy to identify most of the plants in this garden. The fragrance of the flowers filled the air. Rose and gardenia bushes flanked the area. Phlox created a ground cover. Hostas were planted around the phlox. Tiny Lily-of-the-valley grew under the shade of the large, flat hosta leaves. A small pergola built over a bench stood in the back. Behind the bench grew a six-foot tall angel’s trumpet bush. Moon flowers climbed up the sides of the pergola. The entire plot, which must have been eight-foot square, was devoid of snow. In spite of the freezing temperature, these plants were not only healthy, they bloomed. It was entirely unnatural.

My brain thought back to a conversation between Rose and Fiona the day we’d moved into the house. At the same time I made mental connections, the door opened behind me. I didn’t turn around, still processing. The flowers were all white. The hosta plants were from the blue hosta variety, which meant the leaves would glow in the dark. The angel’s trumpet and moonflowers would open their petals after sunset. This was the moon garden Fiona had mentioned, and it housed one of Arianrhod’s spies.

He stopped and stood silently behind me, but I didn’t want to turn my back on such an abnormal place. I recognized his scent on the crisp, cold air and the sound of his unique gait. He cleared his throat.

“How is this possible?” I asked.

“Can we talk about it inside?”

“No. I need to understand.”

“Okay, I’ll tell you everything, but Mags, you’re not wearing any pants.”

Oops
. I knew I’d forgotten something on my mad dash outside. Now that I thought about it, my legs were awfully cold. He tried to keep his gaze averted as he held my sweatpants out to me. I took them gratefully and tried to pull them on over my boots. The elastic at the ankles got stuck on the heel. In the end, I had to lean on him to get them on. Surely he’d gotten a good look at my underwear by the time I’d finished struggling. Even with my predicament, I’d refused to entirely turn away from the moon garden. When I stood up on my own I demanded, “Okay, tell me about this place.”

“Uhm, okay. Do you want to sit down on the bench?”

“Is it safe?”

“We should be safe during the day.”  I walked on the stepping stones leading to the pergola and sat on the bench. He sat next to me.

“Spill it,” I ordered.

“The garden belongs to Arianrhod. Many decades ago, she made an arrangement with a couple of your ancestors. I’m not sure what she gave them in return. She probably used the Ritual of Transfer to cure someone they loved, or something like that. In return, they promised this little piece of the backyard would belong to her.”

“Why does it bloom in the winter?”

“She has compelled or bribed a collection of garden gnomes and Sidhe to defy the laws of Mother Earth and Father Sky. They use all their abilities to keep the flowers blooming year round.”

“Why would she even care?  She exists in the heavenly realm. Are you saying that Arianrhod, the Queen of the Night, the goddess of the Moon, comes down here to Earth on a whim at night and hangs out in our backyard?”

“I don’t think she comes down here every single night.”

“How?  Is there a portal around here?”

“We’re not sure. No one has ever found it.” 

I looked at the surrounding terrain. The backyard ended at a thick copse of trees which ran up the side of a steep mountain. I had no idea of what existed beyond the property line. The land couldn’t be developed. The steep slope and the craggy, exposed rock, probably granite, made it impossible. A portal could have been hidden anywhere. Who knew what a magical inter-dimensional portal looked like, anyway?  I understood.

“Is it dangerous, having her so close?”

“It might be,” he said softly.

“So, the enemy literally lives in our backyard.”

“Yes.”

“That’s great.”  I shivered. The garden might look like a tiny paradise, but it still chilled me when the wind blew.

“You’re cold. We should go back in the house.”

Suddenly, we heard a girlish giggle. The sound reminded me of my friend, Easnadh, who was a river nymph. This creature looked more petite than most female Sidhe. Her light blue hair, silver eyes and white gossamer dress left no doubt she was a fairy. I avoided looking directly into her eyes. The Sidhe could hypnotize you if you stared at them. She floated in the air behind us. I’d never met a snow fairy, so I spoke first.

“Hi, I’m Maggie.”

“I know,” she giggled, “the Young Healer and the Great Seer are always welcome in the Queen’s garden. May I provide you shelter from the wind?”

“Uhm, sure, why not?” I said. Evan nodded. She proceeded to create a wall of ice surrounding the pergola. She made the ice thick enough to stand on its own, but still thin enough to let the sun’s light shine on us. It seemed warmer with the windshield.

“Thanks,” I offered when she’d finished. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Eirlys. Call me if you need your snowflake read.” 

“Okay, cool,” I replied.

She giggled again. “Snowflake…cool…tee hee,” then she flew into the snow and dissolved into nothing.

“She found my pun entertaining,” I commented tonelessly.

Evan replied, “Yeah, I don’t think they get out much.”

“Well, that wasn’t at all creepy,” I muttered, after a moment’s reflection.

“Not at all,” he agreed.

“I can’t imagine why Fiona and Rose are upset about this place.”

“You aren’t upset?” he asked, turning to look at me.

“No, I’m not. I’m overwhelmingly,
freaking
TERRORIZED!  That’s what I am. Why are we living here?”

“I assume it’s because you all needed a place to live and Rose just happened to own a house in town, walking distance from the store, the library, the church and Corey’s school. Come on, aren’t you cold yet?”

“I’m freezing,” I admitted.

“Then let’s go inside and get warm. I’ll make coffee.”

“I don’t drink coffee.”

“You’ll want it today. We have to study for the Psychology test.”

I groaned.

***

The snow didn’t last long. The sun returned stronger than ever. By Tuesday we sloshed through rivers running down the streets of town. I’d learned how to take the bus home so Evan got a chance to visit his own house before choir practice. Jumping over most of the stream overflowing the gutter in front of the house, I took my wet boots off outside and let them dry on the porch. Unlocking the door, I slipped inside the house. It was warm and homey and smelled like Snickerdoodles. The smell led into the kitchen, and someone had lit a fire in the fireplace. They sat, cooling on the counter…Snickerdoodles.

“I love you, Ginger,” I bent down to hug her tiny frame. She giggled.

“There’s milk in the fridge, Mistress Maggie.”

“I can’t drink milk before choir, Ginger, but I’d love some tea.”

“I’ll get it started for you,” she squeaked.

I headed upstairs to change. This time, before throwing on a tank top, I put a leisure bra on first. I’d learned to wear clothes when moving about the house, since Evan seemed to have a knack for wandering in unannounced at just the wrong time. After pulling on clean sweats and clean, dry socks, I decided to take a few minutes to work on my healing hands technique before leaving for choir. Sitting cross-legged on my bed, adopting my basic yoga pose, relaxed my muscles, letting the tip of my tongue lightly touch the roof of my mouth. I began to breathe slowly and evenly, taking deep breaths, allowing my diaphragm to expand and contract.
In through the nose…out through the mouth
. I closed my eyes and directed my attention to the palms of my hands, which were resting face-up on my calves. I had just started to feel the tingle of energy course through them when Evan walked right into my bedroom, munching on a cookie. My concentration was shot.
What if I never develop healing hands
.
Would I be shunned from the entire clan
?  I opened my eyes and gave him a dirty look.

“Oops,” he said.

I sighed in resignation. “Let me wash my hands,” I told him as I walked into the bathroom.

“Why?” he asked. “You didn’t touch anything.”

“That’s true,” I called back over the sound of the water running, “but Fiona says it’s a good habit to adopt. When I do get to work on patients, I’ll be exposed to the negative energy from their illness. If I don’t discharge it with cold water, I could get sick too. Plus, Fiona says that if I’m standing close to people I already know are sick, it’s just good practice to wash with soap and water.”  Turning off the tap, I dried my hands on a towel. Picking my sweatshirt off the bed, I preceded him down the stairs. Ginger levitated a laden tray with tea and cookies onto the end table closest to the fire in the living room. I poured myself a cup and gestured for Evan to do the same.

“So, how do you think we did?” he asked without preamble, taking a cookie.

“I think we did great.”  I responded without hesitation. “Between your eidetic memory of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs and my understanding of the basic principles, we aced it. That’s the last time Mr. Gomez will allow team testing. We broke the curve.”

He grinned. “Yeah, I guess we did. I never understood things this easily. You have a knack for teaching, Miss Stewart.”

“And you have a scary good memory, Mr. Keach. We make a good team.”  I drank my tea.

He looked wistful, for just a second. “I guess we do.”

“God, I’m gonna ralph!” came the shout from the foyer. Corey was home.

“Just get your cookies and stay out of it,” I snapped at him.

“Cookies?” he asked, making a beeline for the tray.

“Snickerdoodles.”

“I love Ginger.”

Evan cleared his throat. “So, how’s school going, Corey?”

“Pretty good,” he said between bites. “It turns out a few of the kids are really nice. Since they’ve kinda let me into their group, those other boys leave me alone, so I’m feeling better about it now.”

I looked at Evan.

He just smiled and said, “That’s good.”

***

When I got back home after practice, it was dark and the water had receded back to the gutter. I treaded carefully across the sidewalk because of the patches of ice, but made it in the house safely. I waved to Evan from the porch and he drove away. I could hear the TV so I knew everyone else was in the den. Pulling off my boots and sweatshirt, I walked into the kitchen. A plate waited for me in the microwave. While reheating it I gazed out the back door. There was movement in the garden. The moonlight reflected perfectly off her silvery-gray skin. With her long, navy blue hair and dress made of the night sky, I had no doubt about who floated in the garden. She talked to someone. The creature stood about three feet tall and carried enough brown, leathered skin for a person twice his or her size and width and wore a simple brown robe tied at the waist with a length of white rope. It was a garden gnome. Fiona was right. A spy lived in the moon garden.

Carefully and quietly, I gathered my dinner and a soda and sat close enough to the window to watch but far enough back to not be seen. Eventually, Arianrhod flew away into the trees and the gnome trudged back to the pergola. This was what I’d been waiting to see. Gnomes are shape shifters. They adopt the guise of their charges to better communicate with the plants they cultivate. This gnome stood next to the wooden structure and, as I watched, slowly transformed its body into a long, climbing vine of moon flowers. It wrapped itself around the top of the pergola and down the other side, so as to completely become indistinguishable from the real plants.
Well
, I thought,
Evan and I will never sit and talk on that bench again
.