Enchantment (24 page)

The cop was older, maybe her dad's age. He walked slowly toward her.

“What's the problem?”

Holly looked at the ground. Took a firmer grip on the coffin.

“She says she wants to save the spring,” the worker said.

The cop glanced at him, then back at Holly. He came closer, stopped right in front of her. “I'm afraid that's not possible. The government has a contract with these gentlemen. You can't interfere.”

Holly stared at the cop's knees. Her breath was short, and she knew her pulse was racing.

“Sweetheart, you have to move aside.”

She glared up at him. “I'm not your sweetheart!”

The cop sighed. “Don't make me remove you, OK? Just stand up and step away.”

Holly shook her head, biting her lip. She was gripping the coffin so hard her fingers were going white.

The cop took hold of her elbow. She jumped up, wrenching her arm out of his grasp, and ran around the coffin, putting it between them. She stood there, panting, staring at the cop.

“Look, don't do this. You really don't want to do this,” he said. “You look like a nice kid. You don't want to go to jail.”

“You don't have a clue what I want!”

And if she hadn't already convinced him she was nuts, that would do it. She saw him reach for his belt and a surge of terror went through her, but he just took out his radio.

She only half heard what he said into it; she caught “female officer” and “disorderly.” Beyond the cop, the two workers were watching, sledgehammers in hand. They were going to smash the spring the moment she stepped away from it.

She couldn't let that happen. She wished she'd thought of a way to chain herself to the spring or something, but it was too late.

The cop put away his radio. “OK, kid. I'm sorry, but you're out of time.”

He started around the spring toward her. Holly moved away, but she knew it was hopeless. He'd catch her, with the help of the backup he'd called for.

Standing at the foot of the spring, where she'd first seen Ohlan, she had only one thought. If she couldn't protect the spring, she'd go down with it.

The cop's muscles tensed. He was going to grab for her.

“No!” Holly screamed, and she flung herself into the coffin.

Something exploded. A blinding white light filled her vision, then she felt herself sinking.

Sinking. Until gentle arms reached up to catch her.

“Holly. Oh, Holly.”

Ohlan cradled her, repeating her name in a heartbroken voice. It was dark where they were. Drifting, or floating—it felt like being underwater but she seemed to be breathing as usual.

Gradually, she became aware of globes of soft light glowing nearby, hanging in clusters like bubbles in seaweed, each surrounded by its own glowing aura of green, gold, or blue. They were lovely, calming. She felt calm for the first time in days.

She tried to move, tried to talk, but she couldn't. Her body wasn't obeying her. Still, lying in Ohlan's arms was the best place to be. She was content.

I love you, Ohlan.

That seemed to make him sadder than ever.
I'm sorry I failed you.

Just hold me. That's all I want.

He held her. She drifted through memories, through dreams, through all the fears of recent days. None of them frightened her now. She was still worried, in a vague way, that things weren't right. As long as she was with Ohlan, though, she didn't care.

She wanted to talk to him, but even forming a thought made her tired. It was better to lie still, safe in his arms.

She slept, perhaps—or just drifted in and out of consciousness. Every time she became aware that she'd lost track of where she was, momentary panic filled her until she realized Ohlan's strong arms were still beneath her, supporting her.

After a long time—hours or days, she couldn't tell—she felt something pulling her upward. Her weight wasn't lying on Ohlan's arms any more; she was floating, buoyant.

Ohlan?

I'm here.

His arms closed around her. They continued to move upward together.

Where are we going?

You're going home.

You can't come with me.
She remembered that, from before. Anger filled her suddenly, along with dread.
I don't want to go!

She felt his arms loosen, letting her go. She tried again to reach for him but her body didn't answer.

Ohlan!

I love you, Holly. I'll always love you.

She flew upward, and the white light flooded her being, burning away everything else.

~

Dizzy. There were sounds—a humming, and faraway voices.

“Did she move?” said a much louder voice, so loud it hurt.

“She's coming around. Give her a minute.”

That voice wasn't familiar. The first voice had been. She tried to remember why.

Strange smells distracted her. Smells like someone had been cleaning and hadn't been entirely successful. She frowned, and that hurt too.

Someone took hold of her hand. She thought about that for a while. It wasn't Ohlan—his hands were bigger. Finally she decided to look and see who it was. She opened her eyes.

“Holly! Oh, thank God!”

She blinked, trying to focus. Eyes blurry. Voice familiar. Bits of understanding swirled in her head and then settled.

“Mom?”

Mom exploded into tears, hugging her sort-of, except that Holly was lying in a bed. Not her bed.

The other person gently got Mom to let her go. Holly blinked, trying to focus on her face: a pretty, Hispanic face. Not familiar. Wearing hot pink scrubs.

She was in the hospital? She'd been with Ohlan …

The nurse handed Mom a box of tissue, then turned to Holly. “I'm Silvia. You've had a concussion. Do you remember how it happened?”

The last thing that happened before her dreams was diving into the concrete coffin. Holly nodded, then winced at the stab of pain in her forehead.

“You're a very lucky girl. It could have been much worse.”

Holly tried to swallow and realized her throat was dry. “Could I have some water?” she said. It came out as a croaking whisper.

Sylvia poured some waster into a plastic cup with a straw in it and held it in front of Holly's face. She reached up to take hold of it and discovered her arms were weak and shaky. Sylvia wrapped her hands around the cup and steadied it while she drank.

“Thanks.”

She lay back, exhausted. Concussions sucked, she decided.

Mom had pulled herself together. She gave one last sniff as she took Holly's hand again. Holly turned her head to look at her. Her eyes were really red, like she'd been crying a lot.

“I'm sorry,” Holly whispered.

Mom managed a brave smile. “I'm just glad you're OK, honey. You're going to be fine, the doctor said.”

That was good. She didn't feel fine. Felt kind of stupid. Maybe they'd been giving her drugs.

She started thinking about what had happened. Cop chasing her around the spring. And two construction workers. And she had ditched school.

“My bike—“

“It's at home, honey. It's fine. Dad went up and found it.”

“Where is Dad?”

“Well, he's at work. I should call him. You can talk to him.”

Mom pulled out her cell phone and punched at it. Holly looked at the nurse.

“How long have I been here?”

“A couple of days.”

“
Days?”

Sylvia nodded. “It's Thursday morning.”

Holly gasped. “What happened with the spring?”

The nurse was checking a machine and didn't answer. She went out in the hall, got a file folder, and stood writing on it.

“Holly's awake,” Mom said into her phone, then gave a nervous laugh. “Yes. She's a little groggy. Holly, do you want to talk to Dad?”

What happened at the spring?

She accepted the phone and dragged it up to her ear. “Hi, Dad.”

“Hi, baby. I'm so glad to hear your voice. How are you feeling?”

“Stupid.”

“You're not stupid, sweetie. Listen, I'm going to leave work and come straight over. Want me to bring you anything?”

Holly thought about it. “Ginger ale.”

“You got it kiddo. See you soon. Let me talk to Mom again.”

Holly held out the phone. She felt so wiped—hard to think—and wanted to just go back to sleep. Couldn't, though. She had to find out …

“Dad's on his way.” Mom smiled and brushed her hair back from her face.

Holly blinked at her, struggling to keep track of her thoughts. So tired, though.

She missed Ohlan. Maybe if she closed her eyes, she'd see him again. She tried it, but her brain was too awake. She heard the machines, the voices, the footsteps passing the open door of her room. They kept her here.

Maybe Mom wanted to talk. Too tired to find out. Holly lay still, thinking over what she could remember. Even the last few minutes were kind of fuzzy. And she had floated for a long time before that.

After a while she became aware that her mom was talking. She started paying attention and heard Mom describing how she'd been awake a little earlier, what she'd said. The person Mom was talking to made little encouraging noises, not enough for her to tell if it was a man or a woman.

“And then she seemed tired and closed her eyes. Is she asleep?”

“I don't think so.” Man's voice. “Holly? Can you hear me?”

Holly opened her eyes and sighed. She almost nodded, then remembered that was a bad idea.

“Yes.”

The man—brown haired, glasses, wearing a lab coat—smiled. Nice face.

“I'm Dr. Staples. No, I'm not a surgeon.”

Holly smiled back. Didn't have enough energy to laugh, and it was a feeb joke anyway. He said it like he was tired of it himself.

“I'd like to talk to you a little about your accident. Are you up for a couple of questions?”

Not an accident.

She shrugged. A warning throb from her forehead told her to take it easy on the moving around.

“Do you remember how you fell?”

“Didn't. Jumped.”

The doctor looked down, like that wasn't the answer he wanted to hear. Mom shot an anxious glance at him.

“Do you remember what happened after that?”

Yeah. I swam in the dark with my lover, a millennia-old water guardian.

“Guess I was out.”

“Do you remember anything between then and now?”

“Dreams, sort of.”

“Particular dreams?”

“Just floating, feeling safe.”

She wasn't going to tell him Ohlan was there. She was beginning to suspect this guy wasn't an MD. Shrink, maybe.

Great. They thought she was crazy.

She couldn't blame them, really. She
had
thrown herself into the spring. If the water hadn't been so low, she probably wouldn't have cracked her head or whatever had happened.

Just thinking about it made her tired. She closed her eyes again.
Ohlan.

“I think she needs some more rest.” The doctor's voice was so low Holly could barely make out what he said. “I'll schedule half an hour tomorrow morning.”

Mom murmured a thank-you. Her voice was moving away; she was following Dr. Staples out to the hall. Holly watched through slitted eyelids. They talked for a minute, then he went away and Mom came back in.

Holly let her eyes fall closed. It was the easiest way to avoid questions, and until she felt less stupefied she didn't want to have to explain anything.

She heard the squeak of plastic upholstery from the chair beside the bed. Mom had sat down again. In a little while she heard more footsteps. They came into the room, and she opened her eyes.

Dad was standing by Mom's chair, holding a giant arrangement of mixed flowers: yellow daisies, purple iris, pink roses and white carnations. His face lit up when she looked at him.

“Hi, Dad.”

“Hi, honey. It's so good to see you awake! These are for you, sweetie.”

“They're beautiful. Thanks.”

Mom stood up and took the flowers, carrying them over to a shelf by the window where several other arrangements were sitting. Holly hadn't noticed them in the dim light.

She stared in amazement—she'd never received so many flowers. There must be half a dozen vases, plus a spiky plant that she would have bet money Jen had picked out.

All for being stupid.

“And here's the ginger ale you ordered. They weren't cold so I picked up a cup of ice.”

Holly remembered to smile. “Thanks, Dad!”

Mom found the control to raise the bed to sitting-up position while Dad pulled a can of soda from the six-pack he'd brought and poured it over the ice in a jumbo drink cup. He snapped the lid back on and handed it to Holly. She sucked at the straw greedily, loving the way the bubbles stung the roof of her mouth.

“How are you feeling?”

She swallowed a mouthful. “Tired. Head hurts.”

“Not surprising. You conked it pretty good.”

She sucked on the soda some more and glanced at him through her eyelashes. He didn't sound mad … exactly. There would be a discussion, though. She could tell.

How much trouble was she in, anyway?

“Did I get arrested?”

Mom and Dad said “No” together.

“No, honey,” Dad added. “The construction company declined to press charges.”

She sighed, relieved. She had caused her parents too much grief already.

But there was something …

“The hospital wants to keep you for another day or so,” Mom said. “Just to make sure you're all right, no hidden injuries.”

“OK.” Too tired to get up anyway, and she didn't even want to think about riding in a car. She reached a hand to her forehead and found it bandaged. Just brushing her hand against it made her wince.