The Earl's Childe (5 page)

I rolled over, trying to place the “voice” in my dream about riding Ehrwnmyr in a horse show for the Lord and Lady of Faerie. We were just about to finish our dressage round with a pirouette when he stopped. There was a strange padding sound that distracted us. The crowd was dead silent, and Lord Cadmus and Lady Fana narrowed their eyes at me. I'd done something terribly wrong, and I wasn't sure what.

Swishpitpatswishpitpatswishpitpat!

What was that noise?

Heather!

Tom!

Tom was the fey cat who “lived” in the stables. We'd become friends trying to stop the kelpie, and Tom had brought me to see Sarah Beth in Faerie, where she'd been taken to keep her from getting killed. He could tell me what I'd done wrong…

Except the riding ring was fading as I blinked my eyes open and started to recognize the bedroom I normally shared with Lily—the small rocking chair with my teddy bear on it, the wing chair I sat in, my desk, the window, yellow-green eyes reflecting through a gap in my curtains—

I bolted upright, gasping.

HEATHER!

It
was
Tom. When he looked like a cat (because sometimes he could look mostly human), he spoke in my head, the way Ermie did. And I could tell he was distraught about something.

Glancing at my sister's empty bed, half-wishing she were here and not at Jenna's house, I went over to my window and opened it.

He meowed pitifully at me, balancing on the very edge of my windowsill.

“Well, come in!”

He meowed again.
I would
. He sneezed in the direction of a line of salt over my sill.

Dad must have come in while I was asleep. I frowned, hesitating half a second because I was obviously defying him by letting a fey cat in, and brushed the salt aside into a neat pile. Tom leapt over my arm and landed on my floor, breaking into a bathing fit around his paws.

What's
that
all about?

“My dad. He's been really nervous about anything fey. He doesn't want anyone hurt.”

Tom paused in his cleaning to give a hiss towards my bedroom door and then took a few more good licks around his shoulders. When he was done, he walked over to the door, tail waving anxiously.

We must hurry. I didn‘t know this was happening tonight! I think they were trying to keep me from finding out
. He looked over his shoulder at me, eyes full of the rare concern cats could show when they wanted.
I don‘t think they wanted me to tell you, but you have a right to know as human liaison
.

Oh yeah, in dealing with the kelpie, I kind of made myself the liaison for my family and all of humanity—it seems—to Faerie. Or at least the part of it that was on our land. I'm not exactly sure how that works, and they're not exactly open to telling me.

I started to follow, then paused. “Wait, what? What are we doing?” If nothing else, I had learned to be extremely cautious when dealing with faerie. Even the ones whom I felt were friends.

You need to follow me to a council meeting. Now!

My mouth hung open for a second. “You mean, back to Faerie? To the castle?”

It's not as far as the castle. One of the wooded sections—they've made it neutral ground for all to meet. Come quickly
.

My feet didn't move. Then my mind caught up with itself. “Let me get my parents.”

Tom froze now, eyes turning hard.
WHAT?!

If nothing else, that confirmed how bad an idea it might be to do this alone. “I made a big mess of things with the kelpie. I'm
not
doing this alone again and making another big mess!”

You didn't make a big mess. You saved your friend, and you even—in a sense—saved the kelpie. You are perfectly capable of attending a council meeting—

“No. I promised my parents that I wouldn't go off and deal with anything faery-related by myself again. I gave them
my word
, and I broke it before, and I feel awful. Do you really want to have a friend and liaison who regularly breaks her word?”

Tom swished his tail, growling.

I folded my arms, scowling, hoping I looked somewhat imposing despite my pink, ruffled nightgown.

He looked away first, turning around tightly, tail whipping back and forth.
What if we don't leave the castle? If you stay here, would that be breaking your word? We
must
hurry if we are to do this!
He paused.
And if your father is salting the house for the sole purpose of keeping us out, he certainly should not attend this meeting!

I considered. “I'm telling them what happened in the morning.”

Fine, whatever! Where's that book you use for spells? The one you tried to summon me with before?

“Mum's office, I think.”

Let's go there
.

We went down to Mum and Dad's office. I glanced over my shoulder at my parents' bedroom door and Rowan's door, feeling guilty. As if that guilt wasn't bad enough, I got a good picture in my head of Joe when he found out I'd snuck out to Faerie. He'd chided me as badly as my dad had, and made me promise
him
I wouldn't do something that thick ever again. Ever!

I wasn't leaving the castle, though, I told myself. I would definitely tell my parents in the morning. Depending on what Tom wanted to show me, or the nature of the spell, I could even run back upstairs and wake them if I had to.

I kept quiet going down the stairs. I didn't want to wake the twins, Ivy and Ash, either. Five-year-olds would be difficult to deal with at the moment.

I carefully put Mum's desk lamp on the floor. No one else would be up at this hour, I thought, but I didn't want to be interrupted if any of the McInnises, our nanny, or Ginny saw the light on. Mr. McInnis, our groundskeeper, loved this castle as much as my family did, so it wasn't that unusual for him to walk around the grounds, making sure everything was secure, if he couldn't sleep.

Fortunately, Isis wasn't around anywhere, either. When my dad wasn't doing well, she (and her brother Osiris, who'd been killed when we fought the kelpie) had always slept in my parents' room. My stomach twisted, remembering it was my fault Osiris had been killed by the kelpie. Isis tolerated the two cats we owned, but who knew what she'd do to a fey cat.

The book Tom wanted was
A Wicca Guide to Faerie
, and it was well-used. Besides writing fiction about faery-anything, Mum also wrote research articles about folklore, history, magick, and the like. But I knew she'd used spells in here before.

One time, when Rowan had gotten scared by a movie with goblins, she had the family help her with a spell that would keep goblins away from him. It worked really well. So well, in fact, it worked on all faerie, not just goblins. Tom still didn't like even going near Rowan. After seeing how Dad was with the salt, I counted my blessings he hadn't made Mum do that spell on all of us!

The book was near the top of a precarious pile between my parents' desks.

“What am I looking for?” I looked at Tom as I carefully leafed through it.

A projection spell of some sort. I know where we're supposed to go
.

I found a spell for a meditation that was supposed to take me on a walk through Faerie.

That'll do
.

I skimmed the description. “So, I need—”

No time. Just read over the incantation
. He paused.
And…let me give you a vision of where we need to be
.

I frowned. “What exactly does that entail?”

Tom hesitated.
You know how you and I speak? It's like that, only…more
.

“So, I need to let you into my head?” My lips tightened even more. It was bad enough Ehrwnmyr seemed to get in and out of my head easily enough. And I
knew
it was bad to let in any daoine síth, the “Folk of the Hills,” who seemed to be faery nobility.

Yes
. He paused, as if sensing my discomfort.
You have my word that I will not take advantage of your trust
. I still hesitated.

Have I ever broken my word to you or left you in danger when I promised otherwise?

“No,” I said softly, then considered how much danger I could have been in if something had gone wrong when he'd brought me to the faery castle to visit Sarah Beth. Nothing did, but…

Tom paused.
I'm letting you in my mind, too. I'm trusting that you won't go poking around past what I invite you to see
.

That made me feel a little better. “I promise. How do we do this?”

He nodded.
Let me sit on your lap? It's easier if we're touching
.

“Um, okay.” I sat cross-legged, and he crawled on my lap. For as big as he looked, he didn't weigh much. His fur was very long, and I wondered how he kept it so smooth, living in the stables like he did. He circled between my legs and then settled in a curl, front paws draped over my folded shins, shimmying a bit to adjust himself. I was struck with a desire to scritch around his neck, like I'd do with one of our house cats. “Can I, um, pet you?”

That will help, actually. We should both be relaxed
.

“Okay.” I carefully arranged myself so as not to put him out of place, and set the open book on the floor. Edging my left hand under his scruff, I started to scratch, while I adjusted the lamp so it shone on the book.

He was already starting to purr by the time I got situated.

Before I could ask him what was next, I felt…like an itch, in the front of my head. Between the cat and holding the book, I couldn't scratch it. But I couldn't ignore it. When I turned my full attention on it, I felt it spread into a warmth. I couldn't focus my eyes, so I closed them. Immediately, all I could see were trees. I somewhat recognized the wooded area, which I knew was on the preserve behind the castle, but it looked different. The trees were bigger. The moss on them was greener. The purple azaleas were so bright they popped. Then, next to me, appeared an image of Tom in his person form— he'd made clear to me that he did
not
like me referring to that as his
human
form. And the image was wearing clothes. (I'd found out the hard way that when, in real life, he transforms from cat to person form, clothes don't magically appear. Bleh!
So
embarrassing!) He looked about my sister Lily's age, fourteen, though he'd told me he was seventy-something.

He gave me a half-smile, shiny cat eyes still shimmering and ears pointed at me. “Okay, so, you're here. Keep this place in mind, open your eyes, and read the incantation.”

I took a deep breath, which was weird because I smelled the office—old books, Dad's cologne, coffee, tea—and not the woods. That smell made it easier to open my eyes and look at the book.

Still scritching Tom's neck, I felt really relaxed—there's just something about a purring, warm cat in your lap that makes you just want to sleep. (It could also have been because it was like midnight or 1 AM, late enough to be pitch dark outside.) In any case, it took me a few blinks to focus on the words in front of me and then make my mouth form them.

Funny thing was, I couldn't tell you what a single word of that spell was. I'd know it if I looked in the book again. All I can recall is feeling my eyeballs adjust in the dim light, the texture of the words on my tongue, and then a breeze on my arms, ruffling Tom's fur. Then the smell of the office slowly turned into the earthy, damp, and leafy scent of trees and dirt and stones.

I could feel Tom holding my hand now, and the rough ground beneath my slippered feet. The projected “me” blinked as the forest came into focus.

“With me?” he asked.

“Um.” I had to think about it, wiggling my feet, squeezing his hand, shaking my head so I could feel my braids tapping all the way down my back. “Yeah.”

“Good.” He gave me another smile, but I could feel, in my head, that he was anxious. “Let's go then.”

I followed Tom through the woods. Every so often, I'd still get a smell of my parents' office or the sensation of Cat-Tom purring on my lap. It was distracting, but also comforting, reminding me I hadn't
actually
left my home.