The Child Thief (37 page)

“LADY MODRON.” THE
name escaped Peter’s lips in a weak breath.
She’s too thin
, he thought and couldn’t push away the fear that she might be dead. He looked into her eyes, those ceaselessly staring eyes, and found no sign of life, nothing.

He walked softly up to her and laid Sekeu down upon the spongy moss at her feet. He cleared his throat. “My Lady,” he said gently.

She continued to stare past him, through him—not so much as a blink.

Peter followed her gaze to the Tree, still amazed to be in its presence. He noticed that many of the leaves were wilted, that some of the limbs were bare and looked to be dying. He wondered how much longer Avalon had.

He fell to one knee, reached out, and laid his hand on the Lady’s, gently, as though his touch might break her. Her hand felt cold. “My Lady,” he whispered. “Lady Modron. It’s me. Peter.”

Her face never changed.

“Lady,” he said again, then again.

Peter felt a hand on his shoulder, heard Tanngnost’s deep sigh. “I’m sorry, Peter. I was afraid of this. She still lives, but is gone from us, withdrawn deep within. Keeping the Mist alive, but little more.”

“I cannot remember the last time she spoke,” Drael said. “Maybe to Ulfger. I don’t know. For he forbade any of us to come near.”

“Peter,” Tanngnost said softly. “I fear she’s beyond us.”

Peter continued to hold the Lady’s hand, to stare into her eyes—to
hope
. He felt a warmth against his chest—the eight-point star. He pulled the necklace over his head and examined it. The faintest glow pulsed from the star’s center. “No, she’s still with us.” He reached for the Lady’s hand, carefully turning it upward, and laid the star in her palm. The star brightened.

“Lady,” he called. “My Lady.”

The Lady’s eyes closed, then slowly reopened. She looked at the star. Her lips moved; no sound came out, but Peter had no problem reading her lips. “Mabon,” she’d tried to say. Her hand closed around the star. “Mabon,” she repeated, her words little more than air. Her eyes became distant again, then slowly closed, and she was still.

Peter waited, but the Lady showed no more signs of life.

“My Lady. It’s Peter.”

Still, there came no response.

Peter stood, cleared his throat, and began to hum softly, then sing, slowly building up the song as his voice cleared. He found the old tune, the song of the Sunbird. And as he sung, as his rich voice echoed off the tall cliffs, the birds and the faeries lent him their voice and soon the tune drifted throughout the garden.

Peter watched a lone tear roll down the Lady’s face. She opened her eyes. This time she saw him. “Peter,” she whispered and reached out, touching his cheek. “My little Peterbird? You flew back to me.”

He nodded up and down as tears blurred his vision. Her caress touched so much more than his skin. He felt it to his very core, felt a warmth swell up inside him. As though they were still in that pond, so long ago.

“Flew all the way here from Otherworld just to sing me a song,” she said.

Peter nodded absently.

Her eyes found Drael, then Tanngnost. She frowned, her face confused. “You’ve come back too. Or have I finally passed beyond? Ulfger told me you were all dead.”

“No, my Lady,” Tanngnost said. “We’re not dead. Nor are you.”

Peter barely heard them, their voices muffled by the beating of his own heart. He put his hand to his cheek; it still tingled from her touch. It was all too much; after a thousand million wishes, he was finally back by her side. He felt his heart might burst, felt his own will had been stolen and he was now incapable of anything more than just staring at her, wishing only to bask in her presence forever.

She looked about the garden at the Devils and the barghest. Her eyes fell on Sekeu lying motionless at her feet. “Peter, who is this?”

Peter tore his eyes away from the Lady, saw the injured girl on the grass, and wondered who she was.

“My Lady,” Tanngnost said. “A lot has happened since the battle at Merrow Cove. Avalon still holds. Peter has rallied the clans. Today he led—”

Sekeu
, Peter thought.
Sekeu’s dying
. And the world all came back into focus. “She needs your touch,” Peter interrupted. “She was wounded protecting Whisperwood.”

“One of your Devils? She fights for Avalon?”

“Yes,” Peter said. “She fights for you. She bleeds for you.”

“Help me to the pond,” the Lady said, pushing to her feet.

Peter and Drael rushed up, taking the Lady’s arm around each shoulder. Gently, they eased her down a set of stone steps into the pond. She drifted away from the shore and slowly sank beneath the water.

A light mist spread across the surface and the water began to clear, slowly revealing the stony bed below. The Lady resurfaced and now there was a vibrancy to her eyes, sparkling brilliant cerulean.

“Bring me the girl,” she said, her voice clear and strong.

Peter picked Sekeu up. She felt lifeless in his arms, but she let out a slight moan and he dared to believe that maybe, maybe, there was still hope. He carried her down the steps and floated her into the arms of the Lady.

The Lady pulled Sekeu below, swimming away toward the Tree. The mist thickened, swirled about, blocking the view below. The golden veins along the cliffs dulled, the cavern darkened, then the mist began to glow, casting an eerie green underlight onto the faces of the elves and Devils.

They waited, the Devils shuffling nervously from foot to foot, scanning the mist.

Peter searched for movement, a splash, a ripple, any sign that Sekeu was okay.
It’s taking too long,
he thought.
Maybe the Lady’s too weak?
And he had a terrible thought.
Could this be too much for her? Could it kill her?
He wondered if he should dive in, try and find them before it was too late.

The Lady broke the surface and Peter was terrified by what he saw. The Lady’s flesh had become gray, almost translucent, he could see every vein.

“Take her,” the Lady gasped, struggling to keep Sekeu’s head above the surface. Peter splashed forward and pulled Sekeu to him just as the Lady sank below the water. Peter hesitated, unsure what to do.

“It’s all right, Peter,” Tanngnost said. “Water’s her element. The pond’s the best place for her now.” But the old troll looked anxious.

The mist lost its glow, the water became murky. Peter would probably have continued to stand there had Sekeu not let out a gasp. He rushed her to the bank. Redbone and Drael gave a hand and they laid her in the grass. The dressing was gone from her leg. The wound was still there, a long, deep cut, but there was no bleeding, no redness. It looked on the mend. There was color in Sekeu’s face.

Sekeu spat out a mouthful of water, coughed, then her eyes fluttered open and she smiled weakly. “I saw Mother Moon and the stars. They were beautiful.”

NICK STOOD IN
the shadow and watched the Lady. She sat slumped on her throne, letting the flowers and vines cradle her as she listened to Tanngnost go on and on. Peter stood at her side.
Fawning
, Nick thought,
like a little boy
. The color had returned to her skin, but she looked weak, worn out, except her eyes, they were alive, piercing—the eyes of a goddess. They scared Nick and he made sure to stay well clear of her gaze.

A laugh stole his attention. The Devils were exploring the garden, picking nuts and fruit. The Lady had insisted they eat their fill and gather what they could for their stocks. While the Devils stuffed their berry-smeared faces, the barghest rooted beneath logs and stones for fungus and grubs, hooting and barking at each other. A small white rabbit dashed by, followed quickly by the three sisters, giggling as they chased it into the bush. Sekeu sat on the bank. She still looked weak but was sitting up on her own now and eating away at the clump of muscadines Redbone had brought her.

The faeries zipped about, gathering armloads of flower petals and dropping them atop the barghest, chirping and giggling as the beasts growled and grumbled. Nick saw smiles, heard laughter, and it made the heat in his gut turn to fire.
Oh, how fucking charming. How fucking magical
. Nick’s heart drummed, the hot black blood pulsed in his head, the pain overwhelming, like a nail being driven into his brain. It was her, the Lady. She was doing it.
Kill her
, the Other wailed in his head. And Nick no longer argued, no longer protested. Him, the Other, his deeper self, they both shared the same burning black blood, they both wanted the pain to stop.

Nick slipped the knife from his belt and edged toward the Lady, careful to stay in the shadows. But no one was watching him.
Stupid fucks
, he thought.
All too busy stuffing their faces and having a merry gay old time.
He clasped the back of the throne to steady himself, trying not to swoon as the pain grew so bad that the edges of his vision blurred. He could see her profile, the elegant curve of her neck.

He clutched the weapon, thought how good it would feel sinking into her soft flesh. Yes, he thought,
make the pain go away. The Mist too. Make all of this horrible nightmare disappear
. He raised the knife, preparing to drive it into her neck.

She turned, such a simple, graceful movement, and locked her eyes on him—her hard, icy eyes. They held him, looked into him, deep into his very core. Nick heard the Other inside him wail. He couldn’t move, couldn’t so much as blink as the tears began to roll down his face.

She grabbed his wrist, and though she was thin and frail to look upon, her grip was like a vise, her touch cold, penetrating. Nick let out a small cry and the knife fell from his hand.

Peter and the troll exchanged a quick look and Peter was there at her side. “My Lady, what?” he asked, glaring at Nick, looking ready to slit him open.

She didn’t answer, just pulled Nick toward the pond, and Nick found it impossible to resist her will. Before he even had a chance to draw a breath, she dragged him beneath the dark water, pulled him down along the bottom. He knew she intended to drown him. The Other in him screamed, and this time Nick screamed too. His lungs filled with water and he had a moment of confusion, expecting pain, expecting to choke, to drown, but instead the water was sweet. It filled his lungs like a breath of spring air, dousing the heat in his stomach and the throbbing in his head.

Nick felt a pulse, but it wasn’t his. It came from all around him. He made out several large twisting shapes spiraling downward, disappearing into the depths. He realized he was beneath the apple tree and that these must be its roots. He laid his hand on one, could feel the pulse, warmth sloshing as it pumped through the thick root like a great artery.

She held his hand as they drifted downward. A soft glow came toward them, enveloped them, and everything came into focus. There were stars, the moon. He saw Avalon, not as it was now, but how it used to be. He was swimming above the forest like a fish, through the valleys and glades. He saw the sparkling lights of a million faeries, nymphs dancing around tall standing stones, centaurs galloping across pastures of wildflowers, and trees of every color glistening in the silvery moonlight. He saw the magic running beneath all things, a glittering aura, a fragile element that needed protecting. He reached for the magic and it reached for him, blooming in his chest like love. He heard her voice, like a song, faint and faraway.
I am your forest, your earth, your eternity. I am life. I am your death. I am all things forever and always. Love me. Love me. Forever love me
.

Yes
, he answered.
Forever
.

She pulled him upward, toward the moon; it grew and grew, then, all at once, he broke the surface. He gasped, coughed, and took in a deep lungful of air.

Peter and the troll were at the steps, anxious and worried.

The Lady left Nick clinging to the bank, drifted away, disappearing beneath the dark water.
Don’t go,
Nick thought and reached for her; the garden blurred, wavered. He felt dizzy, could want, wish, think of nothing but the Lady.
Forever
.