Breenan Series Box Set Page 2

  “Only that her name was Isolde, and that she lived nearby, but too far away for me to imagine. She tended to speak in riddles. I didn’t mind. It just made her more mysterious.” He gazed out the window for a moment. “I wandered the hills for weeks after that, looking for her. Eventually I gave up—if she were still around, she obviously didn’t want to be found. I left Cambridge with a bruised heart. Months later, I called Aunty Ada from a flea-bitten hostel in Vienna. She was frantic, saying a baby had arrived on her doorstep overnight. The baby had a piece of paper tucked into its blankets, a sketch that looked like mine, she said. I was confused, but agreed to travel to Cambridge right away to help. She showed me the sketch when I arrived. It was a portrait of Isolde that I’d drawn and given to her during our week together. I knew then that the baby was mine. Isolde had left me a perfect little creature, the creation of our magical time together. I don’t know why she left you there, but I’m so glad she did. I can’t imagine my life without you.” He leaned over and kissed Gwen’s cheek.

  Gwen kissed his cheek in return, and he closed the laptop lid.

  “I hate to see you on such a fruitless errand. If you do go to England, promise me you’ll enjoy yourself and not spend too much time chasing phantoms.”

  Gwen sighed.

  “I promise. It’d still be nice to see where I was born, though.”

  Her father heaved himself off the couch with a grunt.

  “Well, it’s a beautiful country. I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.” He moved into the kitchen. “Where’s that pizza she ordered?” he muttered.

  “I brought it into the studio for you! Honestly, Dad, open your eyes.” She rolled her own at him as he made his way to his room. She opened the laptop, stared at the browser screen for a few moments, and then resolutely closed the window. The sketch, however, she carefully folded and tucked into a side pouch of her backpack.

  Chapter 2

  Three months later, Gwen and Ellie stared up at a castle. It squatted heavily on a small rise, surrounded by a deep ditch filled with water in which two swans floated languidly. A gravel drive wound sinuously up to a bridge crossing the moat. A copse of trees lined the edge of a brilliant green lawn and disappeared from sight behind the castle.

  Ellie’s face glowed with a happiness that approached awe.

  “This is amazing.”

  Gwen couldn’t help herself. She started laughing.

  “This is literally your dream come true, isn’t it?” She grabbed Ellie by the crook of her arm and pulled her down the drive, their wheeled suitcases dragging and making crunching noises against the gravel.

  Inside the massive wooden doors was a whirlwind of luggage and bodies. Gwen and Ellie were quickly herded into a reception area by a friendly but harried woman, where they registered and received their room assignment.

  Gwen looked incredulously at the paper she clutched in her hand.

  “They gave us a map of the castle. This place is so big we need a map.”

  “Isn’t it gorgeous? Here, let’s take these stairs. Spiral stairs are the best.” Ellie ran toward a doorway in the vast stone wall nearby, her suitcase bouncing behind her. Dim light from a tiny slit window illuminated a narrow spiral staircase winding upward.

  Gwen consulted her map four floors later, her breath coming in short pants.

  “I shouldn’t have packed so much.” She called forward to Ellie, “I blame the weight of my bag on you.”

  Ellie was already halfway down a hallway, her own map dangling from her hand.

  “You’ll thank me later when you can dress for any occasion.” Ellie started reading the placards that hung from the numerous doors lining the hallway.

  “The Silver Room, the Velvet Room—ooo, I bet that one’s nice—the Amber Room, the Green Room! Here’s ours.” Ellie pushed open a heavy door on the left side of the hall. Gwen hurried forward, anxious despite herself to see their new home for the next month. She reminded herself not to get too excited. Already her breath came more quickly than was sensible. She had to let Ellie express enough enthusiasm for both of them—Gwen couldn’t afford to lose control. Luckily, Ellie was excellent at expressing herself.

  “Oh Gwen, it’s perfect!”

  Gwen rounded the corner. Her eyes were instantly distracted by an excessive amount of green. The bedspreads were a rich forest green, green brocade curtains draped over deep recessed windows, and even a painting suspended on the stone wall beside the dresser was a tasteful nature scene with a prominent green willow dominating the frame.

  Ellie dropped her bag and leapt onto the nearest bed. Her ecstatic expression became slightly marred by a hint of disappointment. She turned to Gwen, and spoke in a tone of someone presenting unwelcome news.

  “It’s a modern bed.” Ellie patted the offending piece of furniture. “I thought it might be straw. More authentic, you know.”

  Gwen started to laugh.

  “Seriously? You’re staying in a medieval castle, in England, and that’s not enough?”

  Ellie joined her in laughing, and for a while they couldn’t stop.

  ***

  “What do you think?” Ellie’s eyes were wide with excitement, her shining face waiting for Gwen’s reaction. “For the fancy dress ball later this month.”

  In her hands she held out a long dress, slightly wrinkled from its cross-Atlantic journey in a suitcase. Gwen thought that ‘gown’ might be a more appropriate term for the garment. It had a crushed green velvet overdress, with a lace bodice and huge trailing sleeves. The dropped neckline sported lace that sparkled with fake diamonds. It was a perfect medieval dress.

  Gwen’s chin dropped.

  “You have got to be joking.”

  “You don’t like it? I made it for you. It should fit.” Ellie swished the skirt back and forth.

  “It’s incredible, Ellie. You’ve outdone yourself as usual. But can you really imagine me waltzing around in it?” Gwen shuddered as visions of the spectacle she’d make of herself blossomed before her eyes.

  “Yes! You’ll be perfect in it. Honestly, Gwen, you’ve got to let your hair down sometime.” Ellie held the dress up to Gwen, and pulled at a lock of Gwen’s hair. “You should totally dye a piece of your hair green to match.” She grinned wickedly. “Show a bit of your rebellious side. If you have one.”

  Gwen rolled her eyes.

  “For the last time, I am not dying my hair.” She turned with an air of finality to her own suitcase and continued her interrupted unpacking.

  Ellie tossed the dress on Gwen’s bed and flopped onto her own with a dramatic sigh.

  “Isn’t it all so perfect? I can’t believe we’re in England. In a castle. I’m going to explode from excitement.”

  Gwen picked up her dress.

  “Well, don’t explode over your handiwork.” She carefully hung the dress in an enormous wardrobe beside the door. “How am I supposed to wear it with Ellie guts all down the front?”

  Ellie smiled smugly.

  “I knew you’d come around. And I didn’t even have to guilt-trip, much.”

  Gwen smacked Ellie’s ankles, the closest part of Ellie she could reach.

  “Come on, let’s go explore before dinner. Dinner,” she added significantly, “in a great hall.”

  Ellie leapt up.

  “I love this place!”

  Gwen laughed and pushed her out the door.

  ***

  Gwen and Ellie wandered through the wrought-iron gates of the castle, scuffing their shoes in the gravel drive and turning onto a narrow lane bordered by short stone walls. They reached a fork in the road.

  “Left or right?” Ellie asked.

  Gwen looked to the left. The road passed between large poplars and disappeared round a bend. Beyond, she knew, lay the village of Amberlaine, which they had passed through on their way to the castle a few hours before. To the right the road led straight up a shallow hill, lined by houses. A strange sensation started tingling in her chest. She took it for curiosity.<
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  “Right. We can explore the village later.”

  They strolled beside the road, laughing and chatting. Squat cottages tucked into hollows in the hill emanated quaint comfort. Some even had chickens pecking near the front stoop, like an idyllic setting for a glossy magazine called Rural Chic or Modern Cottage. Gwen had a sudden fantasy of turning into one of the driveways, maybe the one on the left with the purple door, and having her mother open it. She’d say, ‘Oh, Gwen, I’ve been waiting for you for so long,’ and open her arms wide for Gwen to fall into them. Gwen could imagine her cheek brushing against wavy hair scented with flowery shampoo.

  The purple door Gwen had been gazing at opened. A dark haired woman stepped out, face shaded with a hand against the afternoon sun. Gwen’s heart leapt then throbbed with longing. Her breath came quicker and quicker. Ellie gasped beside her.

  “What’s happening to your hands?” Ellie grabbed Gwen’s wrists and turned them face up. Small flickers of blue flames danced across her palms and up her fingers. Gwen stared in horror then took a deep breath to calm herself. The flames dimmed and died. Ellie let go of Gwen’s right wrist and touched Gwen’s left palm gingerly.

  “Are—are you all right?” She flipped Gwen’s hand and looked at the back. Gwen extracted herself from Ellie’s grip, avoiding her gaze.

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” She made a show of wiping her palms on her jeans. “That was weird. Maybe there’s a storm coming. Lots of static charge in the air.” Ellie looked at her, and Gwen was aware of how flimsy the excuse sounded. “You know, like that St Elmo’s fire old sailors saw on the rigging during a storm?”

  “Maybe.” Ellie sounded unconvinced. “You’re sure you’re okay? Because that was really weird.”

  “I’m good, I promise.” Suddenly remembering the woman with the purple door, Gwen snapped her head around to look. The woman was feeding the chickens, but now her face was visible. The woman looked nothing like the sketch of her mother. Gwen shook her head inwardly. She’d let her emotions get the better of her. She couldn’t afford to lose control like that again, not in front of Ellie. Only her father knew about her strangeness, and that was more than enough. A memory surfaced from the last time she had lost control fully, before she’d learned to rein in her peculiarities. She had been eight, and Janelle was the lady who cared for her after school, back when her father had an office job to pay the bills. Janelle was the one who painted her toenails in every color of the rainbow, who taught her how to make chocolate chip cookies and who poured the milk Gwen dipped them in, who hugged her close when she scraped her knee in the park. And then one day Janelle had left, and that evening Gwen’s sobs shook the little apartment, draining water from every tap no matter how tight her father twisted the knobs. After that night, staring in horror at the endless running water, seeing her father’s face swim before her teary eyes, wary and afraid—she had vowed to herself that she would never let the strangeness out again. She couldn’t afford to let it happen. Ellie was her best friend, but would their friendship be able to withstand that test? Gwen didn’t want to find out.

  “Come on, let’s keep going.” Gwen linked her arm with Ellie’s, and together they set out again. Gwen carefully kept her eyes away from the woman with the purple door.

  They rounded a bend. On the right, a path opened into the woods marked with a sign stating, ‘Glengarry Barrow, ½ mile.’

  “What do you think? You game?” Gwen turned to Ellie whose eyes gleamed with excitement.

  “A real barrow? Of course I’m game.” Ellie bounded toward the path. Gwen followed then stopped, rubbing her chest. The tingling was still there, stronger than before. She took another deep breath to calm herself just in case, although she didn’t feel in danger of releasing fire or explosions or whatever else her body wanted to throw her way.

  “Come on, Gwen! What are you waiting for?” Ellie’s disembodied voice floated back to her.

  “Coming!” Gwen called back. She squared her shoulders and started walking.

  ***

  “Wow. Isn’t it amazing?” Ellie’s large eyes were even wider with wonder as she gazed at the barrow.

  “It’s a hill. A little green hill.” Gwen was less than impressed. The hill, thirty feet across and twenty feet high, sat on a grassy plain with the hedgerow of a farmer’s field on one side and a grove of poplars on the other. It was an unremarkable sight. “Is this really what we came to see?”

  “Oh, Gwen!” Ellie wailed in dismay. “Use your imagination! Do you even know what a barrow is?”

  “Um, no,” Gwen admitted. “All this history stuff is more your thing. What’s a barrow, then?” Gwen asked less with interest and more with the hope that Ellie would distract her from the tingling, which had spread from her chest into her arms and torso. She tried to ignore it.

  “A barrow is an ancient burial mound, Bronze Age or something. I don’t think archaeologists really know all that much about them. There are lots of legends about them and the aes sidhe, though.”

  “Excuse me? The ‘ais sheth-uh’ who?”

  “The aes sidhe. Faeries to uneducated heathens like you.” Gwen stuck her tongue out at Ellie. Ellie continued, serenely ignoring the gesture. “Also known as elves, the good folk, or the people of the barrows. Apparently they live in another world that you can get to through the barrows. There are lots of stories of poets and bards being lured by faeries into their world.”

  “Huh.” Gwen looked at the grassy knoll with new interest. She wondered how much her father knew about faeries. She bet he’d love to hear about the similarities between these legends and his own story about meeting her mother. “So, is there a door into this thing?”

  Ellie gasped and grabbed Gwen’s hand.

  “Let’s find out!” She started dragging Gwen around the barrow. The tingling in Gwen’s chest grew stronger as they rounded the other side. The setting sun bathed the whole western slope of the barrow in a brilliant orange glow, except for a deep gash in the middle. The excess of light only highlighted the profound blackness of the entryway. Both girls’ jaws dropped as an empty silence blanketed the slope. Gwen’s tingling reached full body proportions, and she started to shake.

  “Let’s go,” she whispered. She tugged Ellie’s jacket sleeve. Ellie backed away slowly from the doorway, her eyes fixed on it. Then she shrieked and grabbed Gwen’s arm, and they fled in panic from the silent barrow.

  Chapter 3

  Gwen and Ellie careened onto the road, gasping for air. Ellie burst into semi-hysterical laughter.

  “What the hell just happened? Are we really such wusses?” She clutched a tree for support, doubled over with laughing.

  Gwen joined in, her body still shaking from adrenaline. What had just happened? Why had she felt that strange connection between her and the barrow? Unease settled over her like a damp blanket.

  Ellie finally stood upright.

  “Whew, that was crazy. I haven’t got that freaked out since we went to that stupid haunted house at the fall fair. We are such suckers for spookiness.”

  “Did you feel the tingling when we got close to the barrow?” Gwen dusted off dead leaves that clung to her jeans, trying to stay casual. “It felt really weird.”

  “Tingling?” Ellie looked at Gwen with concern. “No, it was just creepy. You know, like a ghost was going to pop out and say BOO!” She stepped toward Gwen and put a hand on Gwen’s forehead, smiling slightly. “Are you feeling okay?”

  Gwen batted Ellie’s hand away, forcing a smile. “I’m fine. I think we need a pick-me-up, though. Banish the ghouls. Let’s see if there’s anywhere to get a drink in the village.”

  They wandered back down the road, past the house with the purple door—the woman was nowhere in sight—beyond the imposing stone pillars of the castle gate, and down the hill to the village. Gwen tried to shake her disquiet while Ellie chatted happily, appearing to feel nothing beyond a momentary fright. Gwen wondered if the tingling had something to do with her strangeness. After her s
lip-up on the road, anything was possible. And now Ellie’s stories of faerie mounds felt a little too real—what had really happened that week her father met her mother?

  The village of Amberlaine appeared, compact and snug in the twilight. They strolled past cottages and shops. A hanging sign, motionless in the calm evening, read ‘The Green Man.’ A carved likeness of a strange, wild man with leaves curling around his face rested above the lettering. Dimly-lit windows were too foggy to see through, but a hum of lively chatter drifted out the half-open door.

  “This looks like the place to be,” Ellie said. She turned to Gwen. “Thirsty?”

  “I don’t know,” Gwen said with trepidation. “I was thinking of a café.”

  “This is England, silly. It’s all about pubs here.” Ellie grabbed Gwen’s elbow and marched her to the door. “It’ll be fun.”

  Ellie strode confidently to the bar like a regular, Gwen awkwardly trailing behind her. Ellie rested her forearms on the well-worn counter and leaned in, smiling. Gwen shuffled close to Ellie, half-turned from the counter to surreptitiously scan the pub’s clientele. There were a number of students she recognized from the castle’s reception area, two of whom waved at Gwen when they caught her eye. She gave a small wave back. The rest were mostly young, likely students from nearby Cambridge, with one group of middle-aged men clearly reliving their student days.

  The bartender approached the two girls with an easy grin. He was about their own age with a shocking head of messy red hair, a pointed chin and nose, and high, sharp cheekbones. Bright green eyes twinkled under eyebrows that looked on fire. He distinctly reminded Gwen of a fox.

  “Hello, loves. Wait, I always guess what my patrons want. You,” he said, pointing his finger at Ellie and making a show out of screwing up his face in concentration. “You—want a single-malt whiskey, on the rocks. A double. And you,” he pointed to Gwen, “definitely a port. Or is it a sherry?”