Faerie Tale (9 page)

They left the dining room and were soon all settled comfortably in the parlor, where the talk turned to other topics. Gloria, sitting next to Phil, glanced at the boys, who were being considerably less obstreperous than
usual. There was something she had meant to ask them earlier at the table, but she couldn’t remember what it was. She let the thought slip away.

Gabbie and Jack walked slowly along the path as the circle of light swept along before them, revealing the twigs and other impediments to easy passage. Gabbie had insisted Jack walk in the woods with her, in search of the fairy party. The flashlight flickered, then dimmed for a minute. “Shit!” he said. “Damn batteries are weak.”

“I declare,” she said with a broad southern accent, “such language! And you a gentleman, sir!” Jack grinned, half-seen in the gloom. “It’s okay, Lancelot. I’ve heard a few Anglo-Saxon expletives in my day. I’m a liberated girl-Jack laughed quietly. “So I’ve noticed. And something special, too.”

Gabbie turned silent as they walked, then said, “You’re not just saying that, are you?”

He stopped, letting the flashlight point down. In the light reflected back from the path they studied each other. He said nothing, but leaned forward and kissed her gently. She froze a moment, then stepped in to him, letting his arms wrap around her. She could feel the strength in his body, and her heart pounded with a rush of excitement. After a time, she gently pushed herself away, softly saying, “Ah … that was a pretty good answer.”

He smiled. “I guess.” Slipping his arm around her waist, he resumed walking slowly, Gabbie matching his pace. “I do think you’re special, Gabbie. You’ve been through a lot, I know, but it’s made you thoughtful. Most of the girls your age I’ve known are a lot younger.”

She leaned her head against his arm. “I try to hide it sometimes. You.… I guess I trust you.”

“Thanks.”

She let a moment go by where the only sounds were their feet on the path and the breeze through the trees. The evening was warm and damp and the moon hung nearly full in the night, giving the woods a little illumination. Finally she said, “I.… You seeing anyone special?”

“No one special,” he answered without hesitation. He paused, then added, “I had a girlfriend, back at Chapel Hill, Ginger Colfield. We met standing in line at junior registration, Cole, Colfield. We were sort of serious. At least, Ginger was serious. But when I came here it got kind of hard to hold things together, you know? Ginger’s down in Atlanta now, working for Coca-Cola, in advertising. I think she’s engaged. Since last year, nothing worth talking about. You?”

“Just a high school boyfriend, two years ago in Arizona. Nothing since then. Just dating around.”

Jack said, “Never do much of that. I tend to land in a relationship and stay there a long time.” He paused. “The last one sort of left me a little beat up, you know?”

Gabbie felt both comforted by the revelation and troubled. She liked Jack a lot, as much as any boy she’d met in a long time, but she was also worried things might get out of hand. “You don’t think much of long-distance romance, huh?”

He stopped and said, “You’re going back to California in September, right?”

She turned to face him. “Yes.” Suddenly she was angry at herself for rushing. “Look, I don’t mean to make a big thing out of this, okay?”

He looked away, as if seeking something in the night, then said, “Maybe it is a big thing.”

She tensed as if not knowing what to do next. Her feelings were surging up from some deep place, surprising her with their intensity. She was suddenly very scared of Jack Cole and the effect he was having on her. But she also knew that what was said in the next few minutes would have a major impact on her for at least the rest of the summer, and perhaps for a great deal longer than
that. With a sigh, a releasing of that sudden energy, she leaned forward, resting her head on his shoulder. “Man … what are you doing to me?”

He held her, saying nothing. She felt as if her heart were trying to burst out of her rib cage, as if she couldn’t get a breath of air. Softly he spoke into her ear. “You could transfer to Fredonia. I might still be able to get accepted into the program at UC San Diego. We could run off to Paris and live in a garret—except my French stinks.” She giggled. “But why don’t we just wait and see if you still feel like talking to me tomorrow, okay?”

She smiled up at him, put at ease by his answer. She saw something sweet and caring in his eyes, evident despite the murk of the night. With a sudden surge of warmth through her body, she said, “I could develop a serious case of like for you, Jack Cole.”

For an answer, he kissed her. After they separated, she added in husky tones, “Maybe more.”

They kissed again. Gabbie was suddenly aware that for the first time since she’d started dating she was with a man who could take her somewhere and make love to her and she would go willingly, without protest or hesitation. Her blood drummed in her ears, and her breath was deep and quick. In an odd detached moment, she wondered, Am I falling in love with this man?

Suddenly Jack stiffened, breaking the mood. She said, “What?”

“Listen,” he said softly.

She strained and heard nothing at first, then a faint, unfamiliar sound. It hung just under the masking noise of the branches rustling in the night breeze, a hint of something different, maddeningly close to being recognizable, but just beyond comprehension.

Then there was something else in the air, a terrifyingly sad yet wonderful quality. Something hovered at the limits of understanding, reaching past the conscious mind to touch a more primitive and basic element of their emotions. With a quickening pulse, Gabbie found tears welling in her eyes, and she whispered, “What’s happening?”

Holding her close, Jack whispered back, “I don’t
know, Gabbie. I don’t know.” He breathed deeply, as if reaching to take control of the alien and powerful emotions that swept through him. Another deep breath, and he said, “Something strange is going on.” He looked around. “I think over there.”

With those words, the spell was somehow broken. Whatever those astonishing and strange feelings were, they fled as he moved. She also breathed deeply, forcing herself to calm, and followed him.

Cautiously they moved through the woods toward the source of the sensations. As they climbed over a fallen tree trunk, Jack said, “I know where we are.”

Gabbie looked about and hadn’t the faintest notion where they were. Her attention had been riveted to Jack, and she suddenly felt concern that if anything happened to him she’d not have a hint on how to find help. “Where are we?”

He pointed with the dimming flashlight and softly said, “The Troll Bridge is over there, just beyond that other rise. From there the path goes straight to your back door.”

She nodded, relieved to know. Jack moved forward, like a soldier on patrol, slightly hunched over, body tensed, as if expecting an ambush. He worked his way through the trees, climbing a small rise. Near the top, he swore. “What is it?” Gabbie asked.

“Damn flashlight went out.” She could hear him hitting it against the palm of one hand, but no light was forthcoming. After a futile attempt at wishing it back into life, Jack put the light in his back pocket. He glanced about, letting his eyes adjust to the gloom. “Come to me,” he whispered.

Gabbie climbed up and could see him in the dark. “There’s a little moonlight,” he offered, “but be careful. You get to where you think you can see and you can still fall and break a leg.”

“Should we go back?”

“It’s safer if we finish going up, then get the path on the other side of Erl King Hill. Come on.” He held her hand and led her the rest of the way to the top of the rise.

Abruptly his body tensed. Gabbie squeezed his hand. “What?”

Jack’s eyes were wide with astonishment. He could only point. For an instant Gabbie couldn’t see what had caused him to halt, then in the gloom she saw it. Across the bald top of Erl King Hill something moved. It was as if a cloud had passed before the moon, making shadows dance. Gabbie glanced up; the sky was clear, without stars because of the bright moon overhead. Slowly her eyes adapted to the light and she began to perceive something moving across the top of the hill. Shapes, suggestive of human form, seemed to be moving in rhythm, a swaying, orderly pavane to an unheard song. On the breeze came a faint tinkling, almost chimes, almost music. And a scent graced the air, a blending of spices and wildflowers, something alien yet familiar.

Jack rubbed at his eyes with his free hand, as if fearing that some affliction was responsible for the vision. Gabbie was about to speak when Jack pulled her back behind a tree. Something was approaching. Jack held Gabbie tight, and for some reason she was terribly afraid.

Something came through the night and it plunged Gabbie into a primitive emotional state, a childlike dread as some unknown terror approached in the dark. She clung to Jack. He stood firm, a rock to shelter under, her protector. In that instant something happened within Gabbie and she understood Jack would defend her. And in that instant her concern shifted from herself to Jack. Suddenly she was afraid of losing him.

The dread rose up within, and Gabbie knew something powerful and wicked loomed close at hand. Whatever it was came within touching distance. Gabbie buried her face against Jack’s chest and held her breath, overwhelmed by inexplicable fear. She felt a presence manifest itself nearby, then around them, and whatever it was knew they were hiding behind the tree and was about to reach for them, and if it touched them they would both be lost. Primitive recognition came into focus, and a scream rose in Gabbie’s throat.

Then the presence vanished. Gabbie checked the urge
to shriek and run, swallowing her own fear. She felt Jack rock-hard with tension, breathing in rapid, shallow rhythm. Whatever had been approaching had turned away, and the sense of dread had turned away with it. Gabbie dug her fingers into Jack’s shirt and listened, but the evil presence, the thing of nameless horror, had gone.

In the dark they heard only the sounds of the night, the breeze moving the ancient branches, the rustle of leaves blowing through the woods. A scampering sound here and there would alert them to the passage of a night creature, perhaps a red squirrel fleeing the approach of an owl, or a raccoon foraging nearby.

Gabbie gasped a deep breath, a feeling of relief surging through her. She felt Jack slowly relax. He whispered, “You okay?”

She whispered back, “Yes. What the hell was all that?”

“I don’t know.” He led her away from the bole of the tree and glanced over the rise. Whatever they had seen before seemed to have vanished without a trace. After a silent moment Jack said, “What did you see there?”

Gabbie hesitated, not certain. “Something. Vague shapes. Maybe that light you talked about when we were riding. You know, St. Elmo’s fire. Anyway, it was pretty dim.”

Jack remained silent for a long time. At last he said, “Yes, that must have been it.”

“Why? What did you see?”

Jack looked at her, his face white in the moonlight. “You’re going to think I’m crazy, but I could have sworn for the first moment that I saw a bunch of people dancing across the top of the hill, all dressed up in robes and gowns. Then suddenly it was like looking through a fog.”

Without conviction she said, “Too much brandy?”

“Maybe. But one thing is certain, it was weird.” He took her by the hand and led her over the rise, down toward the path home. “From now on, when I hear strange stories about these woods I think I’ll take them a little more seriously.”

Resuming their walk, Gabbie reviewed what had hap
pened. As they left Erl King Hill, the memory of the figures on the hill became faint, less distinct, until she was certain she had only imagined recognizable shapes, and the terror had been some unreasoning fear in the dark. As they crossed the Troll Bridge and made their way toward home, Gabbie became more and more certain she had been the victim of her own imagination.

“Jack?”

“What?”

“This is going to sound dumb, but … what did we see on the hill back there?”

Jack faltered a moment, as if the question surprised him, then fell back into step. “What … ? Something.… I don’t know. I think it was a trick of the light. Why? Worried?”

She said not, then fell silent. She couldn’t imagine why she had been so worked up over a few strange movements in the distance. She was certain what she and Jack had seen was but shadows and moonlight playing across the bald hill. And her mind was quickly losing its fascination with mysteries in the dark woods. It was turning to the question of her feelings for Jack, and that was enough of a mystery for her.

Behind them, in the gloom, he stepped out from behind a tree, while the sound of the dancers carried past him on the wind. He was black and featureless as he hid from mortal eyes. Then he willed the mask changed and suddenly he was stunning in his beauty, a figure of awesome perfection. His eyes were blue, like the ice of a frozen lake in a winterscape never seen by mortals, and his movements were supple, and he seemed to flow across the landscape without sound. His form was encased in a faint glow, and around him hovered the scent of spices and wildflowers. He was light and beauty and he was evil. He watched until Jack and Gabbie vanished from his sight, then he turned to face in the direction of the other. Her presence so near had halted him as he had thought to trouble the two mortals passing by. Only she could challenge his will. Only she had enough power to possibly balk him. With anger mixed with a hint of fear, he
laughed, and the night’s blackness was rent by the sound. With a smile that held no humor, he bowed in the direction of the Queen’s court and vanished.

Upon the distant hillock the Queen’s court paused in their dance, for the music halted. The musicians turned as one, looking past the dancers into the night. All shivered, for they knew he was again upon the night, taking unto himself that which he desired, and save for the Queen’s protection, all were at his mercy. They were afraid, for to hear the sound of his laughter was to hear madness.