Charles de Lint - Forests of the Heart

“Whatever.”

“And then I’ll help you get home.”

“I think I can manage to walk on my own.”

Donal shook his head. “I wasn’t planning on carrying you home, boyo. But I was thinking, maybe it’d be good for you to have some company, just in case somebody happened to be waiting for you to leave on your own….”

Shit. Hunter hadn’t even thought of that.

“Thanks,” he said.

He stayed where he was, resting his weight on the table, while Donal went off to tell the others. Miki and Ellie returned with Donal, obviously worried, but Hunter managed to convince them that all he needed was a good night’s sleep.

“Call me sometime,” Ellie said. “When you’re feeling better.”

“I will.”

“Do you want me to open up tomorrow?” Miki asked.

“No, I’m sure I’ll be fine. Look, I’m sorry about all of this. I feel like an idiot.”

“Oh, we’ve all partaken too much of the brew now and again,” Miki said, giving her brother a mock-stern look.

Ellie nodded. “And dancing just makes it goes to your head all that much quicker.”

Donal took Hunter’s arm. “Right. Well, we’re off. If I don’t catch up with you at the cafe,” he added to Miki, “I’ll see you at home.”

“I’ll be waiting, breathless with anticipation.”

Donal smiled. “You did good tonight,” he told her. “Real magic.”

He eased Hunter out the door, but not before Hunter caught the surprised look on Miki’s face.

It was funny, Hunter thought, as they made their way down the street. Tonight was the first time he’d felt normal since Ria had left him. Or at least he had been feeling normal until the confrontation with the hard man. And then he remembered what Ellie had said, just before he’d left.

Call me some time.

Not the hard man’s warning, nor the pain in his side, could stop him from smiling.

Bettina had come outside to check the birdfeeders when the green Volkswagen minibus turned off Handfast Road into Kellygnow’s driveway. She heard the chug-chug of its motor first, followed by the spin of the bus’s wheels on the packed snow and ice that covered the asphalt. Hands in the pockets of her wool coat, she watched the odd little vehicle make it up the last of the slope and complete its approach to where she was standing, its apple-green panels standing out sharply against the snow-covered lawns on either side.

You didn’t see many of those old minibuses in Newford, she thought as it coughed to a halt. Or even the old VW bugs. Not like at home. The bodies rusted out too quickly from all the salt they put on the roads up here.

She didn’t recognize either the driver or his passenger, but that wasn’t unusual. There were always new faces arriving at Kellygnow. The driver was a short Anglo—at least she assumed he was short since all that showed of him above the dashboard were a pair of dark eyes surrounded by a full beard and a mane of thick hair. There was something about him, a shadow clinging to him that told her he had either experienced great sorrows, or would cause them. Perhaps both would hold true. Bettina had already met too many people like him since she’d moved to this city.

His companion was much more interesting: an attractive woman about Bettina’s age. She sat taller than the driver, her long dark hair spilling over the collar of her parka, her eyes bright with interest in her surroundings. In her, Bettina could sense la brujería flowing strong and pure. It came up out of her in a torrent, flooding her immediate surroundings.

Ybien, she thought. Wouldn’t Lisette have a time painting that aura. One would have to be blind not to see it, to feel its pulse in the air, though curiously, the driver appeared oblivious. Perhaps he was merely used to it.

Bettina walked toward them when they disembarked.

“Hello,” she said. “Can I help you?”

“Oh, I love your accent,” the woman told her. “Is it Spanish?”

Bettina smiled. “Close enough. My name’s Bettina,” she added, holding out her hand.

“I’m Ellie Jones,” the woman said.

Her handshake was firm, la brujería rising up from her fingers like a static charge, and yet, Bettina realized, the woman was as unaware of what she carried as her companion appeared to be. Qué extraño.

“And this is my friend Donal Greer.”

Bettina dutifully shook hands with the driver. He smiled at her as though they were sharing a private joke, but the humor never reached his eyes. Bettina didn’t get the joke, and wasn’t particularly interested in pursuing what he meant by it, so she returned her attention to his companion.

“Can I help you find someone?” she asked.

Ellie hesitated, suddenly shy.

“Ah, go on,” her companion said.

“It’s just…” Ellie paused to clear her throat. “Is there someone named Musgrave Wood staying here at the moment?”

“The name is unfamiliar….”

“Tall,” Ellie went on. “Sixtyish and very striking—distinguished even. The last time I saw, um… him, he was wearing a dark, somewhat threadbare overcoat and a hunter’s cap.”

Bettina noted the hesitation before Ellie referred to a gender. There was only one person she could think who fit both that ambiguity and description.

“Perhaps you mean the Recluse,” she said, regretting the words as soon as they were out. If this couple were friends of the odd woman staying in Hanson’s old cottage, they might not take kindly to having her referred to in such a fashion.

Ellie and her companion exchanged glances.

“The… recluse?” Ellie repeated.

“I’m sorry,” Bettina told her. “I didn’t mean to be rude. Just because sometimes people keep to themselves, it doesn’t mean… well, anything, ¿ de acuerdo?”

But Ellie didn’t appear to be at all upset by Bettina’s slip of the tongue.

“The person we’re looking for,” she said, “could easily fit that sort of description.”

“Ybien, “Bettina said. “Let me take you around back to the cottage where your friend is staying.”

She led the way along the side of the house to the rear, their footsteps crunching in the snow as they crossed the lawn. The sun was bright on the snow, awaking a pattern of blinding highlights on the open ground while deepening the subsequent shadows under the trees where the old Hanson cottage stood. As they neared the cottage, a pair of crows rose from the woods behind it, leaving in their wake an image of black wings touched with iridescent blue and the dwindling sound of their cawing.

“I’ve never been up here before,” Ellie said. “It’s so beautiful.”

Bettina nodded. She liked this woman who spoke what came to mind and carried her own brujería sun inside her.

“I know,” she said. “I feel so blessed to live here.”

“Ah, yes,” Donal said, tramping along at her side. His breath was forming frost in his beard. “What could be better than living the life of the rich and famous?”

“I’m neither rich nor famous,” Bettina told him.

“No, but your benefactor is, or this place wouldn’t exist, would it?”

“I suppose….”

“Don’t mind him,” Ellie said. “He thinks being grumpy is charming and there’s no point in trying to convince him otherwise, though Lord knows I’ve tried.”

Bettina wasn’t so sure it was as simple as that, but it was hardly her business. Shrugging, she led the way under the trees. The temperature immediately dropped when they stepped out of the sun and it took their eyes a few moments to adjust to the change in the light. This close to the cottage, Bettina could feel the presence of the Recluse’s brujería, as potent and strange as it had been yesterday, but stronger now. She glanced at her companions. They gave no more indication of noticing it than they did the magic coursing through Ellie’s own blood.