Old Magic (4 page)

My smile shrivels on my face. The second Jillian sees Jarrod her mouth drops open and her eyes squint like she’s trying to figure something out. We step closer and her eyes suddenly spring wide open in startled shock. She looks comical, but I’m not laughing. Something is wrong. She fumbles in her jeans pocket for her glasses in a mad kind of panic. She puts them on and starts screaming.

Her terrified screams hit a high pitch. I sense wildlife scattering at the sound. I can’t understand her reaction. She’s mumbling something about evil this or that, but it’s hard to distinguish any actual words.

Finally she stops but is still breathing hard, a hand splayed across her heaving chest. Of all the unexpected things to happen, today is definitely the day for it. First that bizarre storm in the lab, and now Jillian losing control. And it’s so out of character, I can do nothing but stand here stunned. Slowly, I slide a sideways look at Jarrod. This is all he needs. He’ll think we’re both crazy now. Predictably, it’s written all over his face, skepticism, shock, and fear of being in bodily danger. His pathetic spirit makes me mad. Where is his backbone? Can’t he see the woman is upset?

“What happened, Jillian?”

She points to Jarrod with a trembling hand. “Snakes. I saw snakes.”

Jarrod’s eyebrows lift.

“On him?”

She nods, sucking in a deep gulping breath. “A vision. It must have been a vision. They’re gone now.” Reluctantly she draws her gaze away from Jarrod, locking her blue eyes to mine. “There were at least twenty, Kate. Covering the top half of his body, green slimy things that weaved all around him, over his shoulders, his head, into his hair.”

I don’t doubt her for a second. “God, what does this mean?”

She shudders and slips her glasses back into her pocket. “I don’t know, darling. Snakes are vile creatures, indicating the presence of evil.”

“We’ve only just met, but I don’t sense evil on him.” I think about this and shake my head. “Nah, not evil, Jillian. No way. He’s more . . .”—I shrug as images waft across my subconscious—“kind of puppy-doggish.”

“If you’ll excuse me,” Jarrod’s placid voice unfolds between us. “This is all very amusing. If I ever get my sense of humor back, I’m sure I’ll laugh—in about twenty years. Right now though, I gotta go, get that Band-Aid, y’know?”

Wonderful. Of course I know what he’s doing. Ignoring his obvious urge to get the hell out of here, I try pushing past his skepticism and mounting fear. “Wait, Jarrod. Let me explain.”

He adjusts his glasses, then points a finger with a negative shake of his head. “I don’t think I want to hear it. No offense, but . . . this isn’t my scene. You wanna know the truth? I hate snakes. I had an incident with snakes in my bed once.” His whole body shivers. “Never ever again.”

He turns, but I beat him to the door. “While you’re here let’s just fix your arm. It’s the least we can do, really.”

“I think the least you can do has already been done—to my sanity. Now, don’t bar that door, or I’ll take you through it with me, Kate.”

A strange breeze starts to blow, trinkets and wind chimes start dancing erratically. It hits my face and swirls my hair around and it feels sensational. It isn’t angry, like before in the lab. This wind is mystical yet tame, and it sings to me. I wish I could share it with Jarrod, ’cause he created it. I’m sure of this. And it’s such a beautiful wind, swirling around my feet, pushing gently upward to the ceiling. I get so caught up in it I start to move, with it, through it, into it.

I almost forget about Jarrod and his urge to flee. But he’s noticed the wind too. He’s looking at me oddly, his head tilted, a peculiar expression on his face, like he’s intrigued against his will.

“Ooh, how delightful.” Jillian comes back in, her hands full of bandages and herbal antiseptics. “If you’ll just sit down for a minute . . . Jarrod, isn’t it?”

He nods, his mind momentarily distracted from running, and sits on the stool Jillian points to. I watch him peer through the glass windows at the stillness of the trees in the forest. He’s wondering how there could be such a breeze in here when outside is calm, almost still. It’s good that he’s wondering. I allow him to do this without jumping on his thoughts. I have just learned not to go too fast with him.

The breeze disappears the instant the first drops of antiseptic sting Jarrod’s open wound. “Hey! What the hell is that stuff?”

“A tincture of Saint-John’s-wort. A very good antiseptic, anti-inflammatory, and sedative,” Jillian explains. At least she seems composed now, that frightening vision hopefully gone.

“Can’t you use normal antiseptic?” he asks sarcastically. “Nothing on a supermarket shelf would sting half as much.”

Jillian keeps working gently. Her fingers, I notice, are still trembling a bit. A hangover from the vision. “There now, not too deep.” She pushes his skin together where the wound is deepest, and sticks three adhesive strips over the top. “At least I don’t think it needs stitches,” she says soothingly, in complete control now. “Are you up-to-date with tetanus?”

He nods. “Oh yeah, I would be. I’m always . . .” He glances up quickly, his cheeks filling with bright color. “Never mind,” he mumbles.

“Good,” Jillian replies absently as she finishes working a sterile bandage over the wounded area. “It should be fine, but do see a doctor if it becomes angry.”

“Angry?” Jarrod asks, bemused.

Jillian starts putting away the bandages and bits and pieces.

“Hot, red, or swollen,” I explain, having seen Jillian’s handiwork hundreds of times. The neighbors know her skills with cuts and stuff. And since it’s a good twenty-minute drive to the local hospital, and sometimes takes days just to get an appointment at the only medical center in Ashpeak, she often has neighbors dropping by for little incidents. Not just human incidents either. Jillian takes care of injured forest creatures too, nursing them back to health then setting them free again. It’s not unusual for someone to call in during the night with a possum or koala they’ve found injured by the road.

Apparently satisfied with my explanation, and content with the first-aid job on his arm, Jarrod’s curiosity overtakes his fears. He starts browsing the various bits and pieces of oddities Jillian keeps in her shop, mostly for tourists—crystals, oils, charms, New Age books. Jillian pulls me aside. I give her a brief run-down on what happened in the lab this morning. She listens intently, sometimes nodding.

“He appears so gentle, yet . . . ,” Jillian whispers, her voice trailing off. “I sense more. His aura is really quite spectacular.”

“He’s filled with power, Jillian. I saw it. I felt it.”

“It’s strange that he’s so unaware of it, Kate. Those that are born with supernatural talents either realize it early, or never at all. And so it can thrive—as in your case—or lie dormant. Those unfortunate ones who remain oblivious usually do so their entire lives. I’ve seen it happen so many times. Years ago, Denise Hiller’s baby used to pick the phone up every time someone was dialing their number. It used to annoy Denise when people would complain her line was always busy. She scolded her daughter continuously until the child learned it was bad behavior. Now the child is grown, and there’s no way she will ever harness that strength of power again. She can do little things with a remarkable sixth sense. But that’s all. We’ve been trying to regain more, but most of it is lost.”

“Jarrod’s power is immense, yet he’s completely unaware of it.”

“That’s strange, like something’s triggered it.”

I try to follow her line of thinking. “Do you think there’s a reason his power is emerging now?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know, Kate. Just guessing.”

I think about this for a minute, but something else is wrong too. “If Jarrod’s power is so strong that he can manipulate the weather, and he doesn’t learn how to control it, anything could happen. The science lab was nearly destroyed today. Sheer luck no one else was hurt.”

“You need to hunt around in his past, see what turns up. Unleashed power can cause mass destruction, Kate. But go slow. He seems somewhat frail.”

She’s being subtle. He comes across as spineless.

We stop whispering as Jarrod comes back. He thanks Jillian and we go outside. But even the brilliance of the bright blue sky can’t stop Jillian’s warning ringing in my ears.

Jarrod

Not much point going back to school now.”

I look at her; she has to be kidding. We’re standing in the quiet cul-de-sac outside her grandmother’s wacky shop. I glance at my watch: 11:00 a.m. “That’s fine for you, but I don’t want to face a suspension on my first day.”

“I want to show you something.”

“Sorry, I don’t think so.” I start down the road, and can’t seem to get away quick enough. Kate is definitely weird, her grandmother, too. Now I know where she gets it from. Poor kid, she hasn’t got a chance. It’s in her genes. “Another time, maybe.” Like never!

“It’s not far.” Her persistence is manipulative. “C’mon, Jarrod. Give me a break. I want to make up for what happened this morning, with Jillian and the . . . you know.” She shrugs. “Snakes.”

The incident with her grandmother shook me up more than that unusual storm in the lab. That at least is a foggy memory. I try to look unfazed. “Forget it.”

“You’ll love this place. It’s enchanted.”

Enchanted! That does it. “Uh-uh.”

She realizes instantly her mistake and scrunches up her nose. “No, I don’t mean . . . You know, in a magical sense,” she corrects quickly. “Just pleasant, endearing.”

“Hmm.” I’m being obstinate, but I’ve had a gutful of this magic nonsense.

“Look,” she persists annoyingly. “This place is really special to me. And I bet you haven’t seen much of the mountain yet.”

She has me there as we only arrived a couple of days ago, and I’ve spent most of that time fixing the old place up to make it comfortable for Dad, easy for him to get around with his crutches. “So what?”

She takes my arm by the elbow. Her fingers are firm and warm. I look down into her face. She’s a fair bit shorter than me, at least a head length. Her blue-gray eyes reflect the sunlight as her face expands into that smile again. She tugs my arm, and without giving it any more thought, I follow her into the forest. “You’re dangerous.”

She laughs but doesn’t answer. And for the next twenty minutes neither of us says anything as we fight our way through a maze of thick hanging vines and half-rotted fallen trees that are now probably residences for goodness knows what forest animals. My mind flips through a mental list of the many different creatures that are probably right now hanging on to my shoes, inching their way up toward the first sign of exposed flesh—ticks, leeches, snakes!

Finally we get there, and I have to admit the serenity of the place is really breathtaking. There’s a shallow stream tumbling down a collection of haphazard boul-ders, the water so clear I can see every smoothly shaped pebble beneath the surface. On the other side of the stream stretches a field of deep green bracken ferns, thousands of them, about knee-high to thigh, dancing to the musical notes of a very light breeze.

“Well, what do you think?” She’s standing beside me, gazing proudly across the crystalline stream as if this picturesque scene was all her own doing.

I pick up a small pebble and attempt to skip it. It sinks on the first hit. “Nice.”

She frowns, disappointed, but I’m fed up with being agreeable. She says, “Is that all you can say, just ‘nice’ ?”

I sit on a spilled log, start checking my shoes for leeches. “Okay, very nice.”

She sits beside me and groans, apparently conceding this is the most she’ll get. “Sorry about Jillian going off like that. You probably won’t believe this, but she’s known around here for her extreme tolerance and calm under duress. Sometimes she might appear a little abstracted, but that’s just her way. She’s intelligent, loves nature, is a wonderful magi—”

Wisely, she doesn’t finish. “She raised me from a baby when my mother ran away.”

She shrugs her shoulders as if her mother’s rejection doesn’t concern her anymore. I don’t need to be psychic to see that it does. Jillian’s hysteria gradually begins easing into a distant part of my memory. “Hey, look, forget it. It was no big deal.”

We’re quiet for a minute, taking in the pleasant surroundings—water spilling over rocks, a gentle breeze playing tag with the ferns and vines and millions of eucalyptus leaves, an earthy smell of damp soil and moss. Kate is sitting beside me, her head angled, eyes gently closed, totally involved, relaxed with herself. Suddenly I envy her. This mountain is her home, has been probably all her life. This forest is her roots, and it’s obvious she loves it. It’s something I’ve never had the pleasure of enjoying—a place to call home, a group of friends. “Is it just you and your grandmother then?” I wonder fleetingly if she will think I’m intruding.

She just shrugs. “Yeah, I don’t know who my father is. There was never a name.”

“Hey, that’s rough. He could be anybody. Do you have anything to go on?”

She gets defensive. “Who says I wanna know?”

She glances away, but I can see her eyes are troubled. When she finally speaks again her voice is soft. “I know he was a camper, here in the forest. That’s how he met my mother. She used to come here, sit by the river and dream about living in a big city one day. She never liked the mountain.”

“What happened?”

“He had just finished his final exams and had come up the mountain for a bit of relaxation. He ran into trouble with some poisonous nettle and my mother looked after it. Apparently she looked after a lot more.”

“D’you think they loved each other?”

Her eyes change, like she’s slipped into the past, visualizing her parents as they would have been so long ago, young lovers, meeting in the forest. “How would I know? Can two people fall in love so quickly? They only had a couple of days.”

Like an exploding bomb, it hits me. The reason Kate feels this place is special. “It was here, wasn’t it?”

Her shoulders lift just a little.

“This is where your father camped, where your parents . . .”

She takes the defensive quickly again. “Yeah, so what?”