Sign of the Throne: Book One in the Solas Beir Trilogy (8 page)

“Synchronicity,” Riordan said.

“Sorry?” Abby asked.

“Synchronicity,” he repeated. “Meaningful coincidences. Fate. Destiny. Everything happens for a reason.”

“Sorry, I still don’t follow you,” Abby said.

“Synchronicity,” Cassandra explained, “is the idea that there are meaningful patterns of coincidence that occur in life. Some people see this as a psychological phenomenon that occurs when you start noticing something. Say, if you were interested in buying a yellow car, you’d start noticing yellow cars everywhere you go. Others see it as a spiritual thing—a sign from God leading you where you should go, revealing the master plan.”

“So there are no coincidences? Nothing just happens randomly?” Abby asked.

“Well, randomness is debatable, at least in real life,” Cassandra said. “This is why I love teaching statistics. In statistics, we act like life occurs in a vacuum. When we look at probability, we say something is random if each trial is independent and has an equal chance of occurring.

“So, if I’m rolling a die, and I’m trying to figure out my chances of rolling a six, I might roll it a hundred times and then figure out the probability based on the number of trials, the number of sides to the die, and how many times I get a six. But I’m assuming that I’m rolling it the same way each time and that the die is balanced, that it’s not weighted on one side or something. And this works in an example like this, but real life is messy.

“If I’m thinking about my chances of running into someone I know in the grocery store or surviving a car wreck or a shark attack, or being hit by lightning, or whatever the example, there are a lot more variables, different things that influence the outcome. My chances of surviving a car wreck depend on a lot of things: the condition of the car, how fast I’m going, whether or not it’s a single or multiple car accident, the condition of the road, the weather…you see where I’m going with this?”

Abby nodded, astounded that Cassandra could calmly switch to professor mode after finding her babysitter holding a bat, holed up in a bedroom with her small children. What was more astounding was that it sounded like Cassandra actually believed her, even though she was taking a scientific approach.

“And then there’s fate and probability. Are you familiar with the work of Jakob Bernoulli?” Cassandra asked.

Abby shook her head. “Sorry, no.”

“That’s okay,” Cassandra continued. “Bernoulli was a Swiss mathematician who lived in the 1600s. He was famous for a lot of things, such as the application of probability theory to games of chance. He had a lot to say about fate. Basically, if you take the die example, and you want to roll a six, you will eventually roll a six if you keep rolling. It’s only a matter of time. So bottom line, once things are set in motion, they tend to eventually occur.”

“Ah,” Abby said. “I see. So that leaves me with two questions.”

“Shoot,” Cassandra and Riordan chimed in unison.

“Jinx,” Cassandra laughed, affectionately poking Riordan in the rib. “What is question number one, Abby?”

“Well,” Abby said. “If synchronicity is real, and I keep having thes
e synchronicities in my dreams—you know, seeing David in the dream and then in real life, and the dream about the white doe—what am I supposed to do with that?”

“I suppose,” said Riordan. “Regarding the white doe—I’d take that as a good omen, if you see it as a symbol the way many cultures do. In Scotland, it’s considered especially
good luck. Regarding David…hmm…I mean, in the time we’ve known the Corbin family, I’ve never noticed anything about him that would associate him with a white doe—”

“Regarding David,” interrupted Cassandra, “simply take it as a sign that the universe has something in mind
—that your paths will intersect and see what happens. Don’t jump to conclusions, but keep an open mind to other synchronicities that might provide insight.”

“Okay,” Abby said. “That makes sense, I guess.”

“Question number two?” asked Cassandra.

“Question number two—how do we protect ourselves against the shadow boy?” Abby asked.

Riordan shot Cassandra a look. “I’ll take that one, since I’m better versed in the legends, thank you very much, lady. Not that I don’t appreciate the insight into statistics, Professor.”

“I’m listening and being very respectful. See?” Cassandra gave him her best, if not terribly convincing, meek-and-mild smile. Abby laughed.

“Okay,” Riordan continued, ignoring Cassandra’s theatrics. “There are several folkloric theories on protecting oneself. Silver comes up in a few stories. Your necklace, Abby, is that silver?”

“I think so,” Abby said.

“Well, perhaps that’s why the creature didn’t harm you,” Riordan said. “Just to be safe, I think you should keep wearing it. It’s possible that the cross pendant on the chain, as a religious symbol, fended him off, but it could just be the silver.”

“Correlation does not imply causation,” Cassandra said.

Riordan nodded. “Exactly. Some stories talk about hanging silver bells from a doorway to block entrance, so we could try that—I think there’s some in the box where we store Christmas decorations—and some stories describe the protection salt gives, when you either throw it at whatever is attacking you or enclose yourself in a circle of salt. Still other stories talk about putting salt, sand, or even seeds by your bedside. The thought is the creature becomes engrossed in counting the grains of salt or sand and will leave you alone. One story says that’s the way to capture a witch. She becomes so focused on counting, that she’ll do it all night, and you can capture her at first morning’s light. Of course, the same story says that the reason people have bed hair is that the old hag rides on your head all night long like a hobby horse.”

Cassandra snorted, then laughed. “Not to make light of the situation, but yes, let’s try all those things, just to be safe, and see what happens. And we’ll all make a pact, among the three of us: anything weird that happens—no matter how unlikely or odd—we talk about it together. Consider it an experiment. We need as much data as possible. And Riordan, seriously, I know you love your aunt, but if I encounter that thing, I’m taking the kids to a hotel. I don’t want to leave our home, but I’m not staying here if I can’t protect my kids. Agreed?”

“
Our
kids,” Riordan corrected. “And yes, agreed.”

“Deal,” Abby said.

FAERY GODMOTHERS

E
xhausted from the terror of the previous evening, Abby slept deeply. Given that the shadow creature’s evil smile was burned into her memory, she had expected to have nightmares. To her relief, her dreams were peaceful.

She found herself walking toward a towering ivory edifice, surrounded by the foliage of a large, primeval forest. The castle reminded her of exotic architecture she’d seen in books—a fortress with a distinctly Moroccan feel.

A woman was approaching her, crossing a bridge leading from the castle’s gates. The woman was beautiful. In a sweeping white gown, she walked with such noble grace that she appeared to float toward Abby. Her raven-colored tresses fell to her waist in waves, and her skin was pale, almost the color of cream. Her eyes burned a brilliant blue, and Abby felt intimidated in her presence. To her surprise, the woman smiled at Abby, and her eyes were kind, with a hint of amusement, as though Abby were her conspirator in a private joke. As she passed by, the scene changed.

Now Abby was on a stage in front of an audience of people she didn’t know. She shielded her eyes from the spotlight shining on her. She heard a voice: “David Corbin is looking at you, and you’re not even going to acknowledge him?” At this, she turned to her left, and near the stage, she saw him. This time
, he wasn’t indifferent. He looked…intrigued. Yes, that was definitely a small, curious smile on his lips. Abby smiled back.

She opened her eyes and looked around her bedroom. The morning light filtered through sheer curtains and eased any fears from the night before. For the first time, she appreciated the sheer normality of her life: no bogeymen in her closet, no nightmares creeping under her bed.

She remembered something Cassandra had said as she was driving Abby home.

“Does it surprise you?” she asked. “Does it surprise you that we’d stay in the house after all you told us?”

Yes, Abby had admitted. If she had been Cassandra and thought her family was in danger, she would have left that very night. But then, Cassandra did not see what Abby saw.

“It’s not that I’m not tempted to leave,” Cassandra said, “but we did make a promise to care for Moira. Even if we left, she would never leave, and if an old woman is okay with living in that house, I suppose we can tough it out. But it’s not just that. I like it there, and I want to stay. And, it’s probably a combination of hubris and morbid curiosity, but if something weird is going on, I want to know. Our family has a long history of encounters with the bizarre—you should have heard the ghost stories told by Riordan’s relatives when we were in Scotland. I know this sounds silly, and I don’t know how to explain it, but I think we’ll be okay. I just don’t think there is anything to worry about,”
she insisted.

Abby wasn’t so sure, but she’d wait it out. The experience had bonded her with the Buchans, and she considered them a second family. She just didn’t want anything bad to happen to them. But as long as she was around, she would make sure nothing did.

It was Sunday, but Abby had the day off from the inn. With a mysterious grin, Cassandra had asked her to stop by that afternoon.

“There’s something I want to show you,”
she hinted as she dropped Abby off.

Abby got dressed and headed down for breakfast with her family. She stared at her parents as they ate their bran cereal and her brother Matt as he feasted on pancakes.
They have no idea,
she thought. And that was a good thing.

After lunch, she walked down to Newcastle Beach. In the daylight
, nothing was amiss. Remembering the previous evening’s lesson on synchronicity, she did note, however, that there were quite a few stray cats in the neighborhood lounging on porches and enjoying soft grass and patches of sunlight. How odd that she’d never noticed them before. She knocked on the Buchans’ door and Cassandra answered, looking delighted to see her.

“Come in, come in, come in,” Cassandra chimed, clearly boiling over with excitement as she grabbed Abby’s hand and yanked her inside the house. She closed the door and cocked her head to the side, looking at Abby. “Okay, are you ready?”

“I guess so.” Abby had no idea what she was supposed to be ready for, but she thought it was best to humor her mentor.

“All right. I’m going to ask you a question, and I insist that you say yes.”

“That sounds dangerous,” Abby laughed, “but go ahead. Ask.”

“The Autumn Ball at the inn is coming up in a few weeks,” Cassandra said. “Riordan and I are going, and we’d like you to join us. What do you think? Remember, you’re supposed to say yes.”

“Hmmmm…”

Cassandra frowned and put her hands on her hips. “That is not a yes. Perhaps I should clarify. The Autumn Ball—bigger than the holiday party at Christmas—the place to see and
be
seen. And did I mention that you get to wear something gorgeous and dance with handsome young men?”

“Well, I appreciate the invitation, but…dancing is not one of my strong points. Plus, I have nothing to wear—I’d stick out like a sore thumb,” Abby objected.

“Au contraire, my dear. First of all, I can coach you on dancing,” Cassandra countered. “That’s easy.” She grabbed Abby’s hand and twirled her around, spinning her away and then pulling her back close.

Abby laughed in surprise, partly because she felt silly towering over Cassandra’s petite frame and partly because Cassandra wasn’t half bad at leading.

“See?” Cassandra said, letting Abby go. “
Easy
. Second, I’m going shopping for my dress this afternoon, and I’d love it if you’d come along and pick something out. Consider it an early birthday gift.”

“Well, I’m happy to come along to help
you
pick a dress, but I can’t let you buy one for me,” Abby said. “You’re way too generous—that’s too much.”

Cassandra nodded. “I knew you’d say that. And so, on to plan B. Vintage.”

“Vintage?” Abby asked.

“Come on.” Cassandra grabbed Abby’s hand again.

This time, she led Abby upstairs to the spare bedroom on the third floor. USL’s Professor of Psychology and Statistics was like a chipmunk on a sugar high, and Abby was fairly certain that she was going to explode with manic joy any second. Still, Abby had to smile. Cassandra’s excitement was contagious.

With a flourish befitting a carnival magician, the wisp of a woman opened the door of an antique wardrobe. Hanging from a hook above the cabinet’s full-length mirror was a stunning peacock blue ball gown. Abby’s jaw dropped. The vintage dress had a fitted
, strapless bodice with diagonal folds of satin flattering all the right places, complemented by antique diamond brooches at the center of the bodice and on the left hip. The full skirt would sweep to the floor. It was a regal dress, more lovely than anything Abby could have imagined.

“Sooo, what do you think?” Cassandra asked.

“I…I don’t know what to say. It’s beautiful. No, it’s perfect,” Abby said.

“I’ll take that as a yes then?”

Abby nodded. “Yes. Yes, thank you. I’d love to come.”

“And it’s on loan, so you don’t have to fret about anything. It was Riordan’s mother’s,” Cassandra said.

Abby smiled. “I’d be honored to wear it.”

“Well then, try it on! Let’s see how it looks on you!” Cassandra exclaimed. The manic chipmunk was bubbling to the surface again. She hurried out of the room, closing the door.

Abby took a moment to take in the dress. It
was
perfect, as if it had been designed just for her. But would it fit? She slipped it on and critiqued her image in the mirror.
Not bad,
she thought. She pulled back her hair, piled it on her head, frowned, and let it fall past her shoulders again. She’d figure out what to do with her hair later. She spun around—for now, she would just enjoy the dress.

Cassandra knocked. “May I see?”

“Oh! Yes, come in. I’m ready,” Abby said.

Cassandra entered the room. “Oooooh, Abby. You look so beautiful!”

“Thank you.” Abby felt a little self-conscious, but didn’t really mind being on display.

Cassandra walked a wide circle around her. “I think Riordan’s mother was a little more…what’s the best way to put it…
curvy
than you, though. She was kind of this tall, voluptuous Amazon woman. Looks like we might need to take it in just a bit. But no worries, we’ll stop at the tailor before we look for my dress. Sound good?”

“Sounds good. Cassandra, thank you so much. For everything. I know it’s clichéd, but I’m kind of having a Cinderella moment here,” Abby
noted.

Cassandra laughed. “Well, good—things turned out pretty well for her, didn’t they?”

Abby nodded. “They did. There’s one thing I’m nervous about though.”

“What’s that?”

“Going alone,” Abby said. “I mean, I know you and Riordan will be there—”

“And Moira too,” Cassandra said. “Did you know that she’s the one who started the tradition of having an Autumn Ball? And she has yet to miss one. She has always been so involved in this community, especially with events that benefit the less fortunate. This year, all the proceeds are going to the Santa Linda Women’s Shelter.”

“Oh,” Abby said. She had not realized Riordan’s aunt would be joining them. That would make things a little awkward, but she still wanted to go. “That’s great that she’s so dedicated.”

“She is
definitely
that.” Cassandra chuckled, keeping her voice low and eyeing the open door. “She’s as tenacious as a bulldog, but it’s usually for a good cause.”

“Usually?”

“Yes, well, I sure wouldn’t want to see her apply that kind of dedication to an evil one.” Cassandra shuddered. “Scary.”

“Very,” Abby laughed. “Anyway, I just wanted to ask, if it’s okay with you—could Jon come with me? As a friend,” she clarified.

“Oh, of course! We’d love to have him come. He’ll make a nice accessory to the dress, I think,” Cassandra said.

Abby smiled, relieved. “Yeah, he can be my arm candy.”

Abby changed and met Cassandra downstairs with the dress. She tried it on again at Collin’s Tailoring, and the tailor was confident he could adjust the dress to Abby’s figure.

She went back into the changing room while Cassandra discussed the adjustments with the tailor. As she was dressing, she heard the bell above the shop door ring.

“Meg! How nice to see you,” she heard Cassandra say.

“Cassandra Buchan—I keep meaning to call you. We should have lunch again one of these days,” a woman replied.  “You remember my son, David, don’t you?”

Abby froze.

“David,” Cassandra said. “Of course. How are you? Congratulations on your graduation. I know your parents are very proud.”

“Thank you,” David said. His voice was deep, with a strangely familiar roughness to it. Abby thought back to the dreams. Had she ever heard him speak?

“I hear you’ve been traveling,” Cassandra said.

“Yes, I have,” David confirmed. “I recently returned from Sydney after a trip to Asia and the South Pacific.”

“What an adventure! There is nothing like travel for testing one’s character and learning about the world. So Meg, what brings you to the tailor’s on this lovely fall day?” Cassandra asked.

“Getting ready for Autumn Ball, of course,” Margaret said. “I designed my own dress, and Mr. Collin made it for me. And David needs a few adjustments to his new suit.”

Abby internally debated the merits of hiding in the dressing room until they left, and then decided that being a chicken was not the answer. Summoning her courage, she pushed back the curtain and stepped out, avoiding looking in David’s direction. She took the dress over to the shop counter.

“Ah, Abby,” Cassandra said. “Let me introduce you to my friend, Margaret Corbin. And
this
is David Corbin.”