For Your Heart (Hill Dweller Retellings) (36 page)

    
“Ah,” Mushroom Woman exhales, making me turn toward her.  She’s pulling a massive scroll that looks older than the Ten Commandments off of the shelf.  Slapping it down on a stone bench, she crooks a finger at me.  “Come.  I have your answer here.”

    
Squaring my shoulders, I dig my nails into my palms and gingerly pick my way across the cave toward the witch.  The rancid scent grows stronger as I approach, making my eyes swim and my stomach churn.  I take shallow breaths, hoping I don’t puke or faint.

    
I stop, keeping a good three feet between the witch and me.  Okay, now what?

    
Her chin lifts and she grins at me, her eye rolling in its socket so it looks as though it’s going to fall out any moment.  I look away, down to the paper.  “What is that?”  I ask, wanting something else to think about.

    
“A very, very old contract.  If there’s a way to escape being tithe bound, then it’s in this document,” she croons.  “However, there is a matter of payment.”

    
I bite my lips and think of
The Little Mermaid
.  If I can’t meet her material price, will she demand something from me that would make Tamrin dislike me?  Make me cut my hair maybe?  I reach up and touch the braid that Tamrin wove into my hair this morning.  The tiny flowers he twisted between the strands are still there, limp and tacky.  “I don’t have much.”

    
The crusty eye rolls up and down.  “You have much.  Youth, beauty, intelligence.  What would you give to free your lover?”

    
“Anything,” I say.  It comes out without thinking and I want to take it back as soon as it does, but part of me knows there’s truth to it.  I can’t lose Timmy again.  If I could have him all to myself, if I could have his heart forever, I’d give anything.

    
With a musty sleeve, the Mushroom Woman wipes at a trail of drool trickling down her chin.  “You carry a child.”

    
Oh, hell no
.  Icicles prickle up out of my veins and through my skin, freezing me, making my blood run cold.  “N-not that.  Anything but that.”

    
Her face creases into a grin so deep, her murky eye disappears into the folds of mottled skin and the only things I see are the warty and black-headed beak-nose and the bulging, bloodshot eye.  “I don’t want yer babe, girlie.  What would an old woman do with a babe? Eh?”

    
Oh, I don’t know; eat it?
  I shove that notion away before I’m sick at the thought.  I try to sound calm and strong, but my knees are shaking.  “What then?”

    
“A name.”

    
I wrinkle my nose. “What?”

    
“A purpose.”

    
“I-I don’t understand.”

    
“I want to be the one to name the babe and declare his purpose in life.”

    
What, like Bob the fireman?  That’s not so bad.  How could that be bad?  I think hard, trying to figure out if there’s some kind of trick involved.  I can’t see one.  I look down at the scroll, I need the information inside.  Will Tamrin hate me for this deal?  I don’t know.  He did send me here.  He must have known she’d ask a price.  Was he giving me consent to pay any price by sending me?  Name and purpose.  “O-Okay,” I stammer.  Then quickly add, “As long as you promise not to hurt my baby.”

    
“
I
will not hurt your baby.  What do I look like to you?” she demands, placing an indignant fist on her hip.

    
Despite the thousand and one responses that leap to my tongue, I don’t answer.  I steel my expression and nod my chin toward the scroll.  “What does it say?”

    
Sighing to herself, the Mushroom Woman eases the scroll open.  It crackles and bits of parchment break loose as she does so.  On the stained, almost fabric-like paper are words written in a form I’ve never seen.  The tiny words are cramped and I can barely see them, the ink is so faded with time.  With a bone-thin finger, she traces the script, her cracked yellow nail making a scratching noise against the paper.  “This is the contract,” she whispers, her tone dramatic.  “This is the agreement made between the Devil’s own and his Hunter.”  She stops.  “And here are the terms for gathering the tithes of the Demon’s people.”

    
“What?” I whimper.  “I don’t understand!”  My heart is racing.  I clutch at the cross hanging around my neck.  She’s speaking of the devil and demons and hunters.  It sounds like evil things.  Is she practicing black magic, saying something that will bind my baby to Satan?

    
“Here.”  She motions me closer.  “I will tell you the words you must know to save your lover.”

    
I step closer, my need to free Timmy outweighing my own fear of God’s wrath.  “What?” I demand.

    
She bends close and squints at the text, nodding to herself.  And then she speaks.  “On the night the tithe is due – the night of All Hallows – the Queen and her courtiers ride forth through the waygate from Summer into your realm.  She will come seeking the fair, young flesh of your lover, Timothy Rhynn.  If you wish to save him you must go.” She lashes out her wretched hand and latches onto my arm.  I yelp, trying to pull away, but her nails bite into me.  “Look, child.  Look hard.”

    
Terrified, I stare at her.

    
“Close your eyes and see.”

    
I do it, if only to get her foul diseased hand off of me sooner.  Against the blackness behind my eyelid, an image flickers.  A path through the woods in the night.  I know this path.

    
“The faerie court will ride the path to the Nethergate.  You must intercept them before they throw young Tamrin to the mercy of the Hunter.”

    
The image flickers and I’m shown horses charging toward me as if I’m a very small animal upon the ground and their hooves are aimed to stomp at me.  But I do not get trod into the dirt.  “First the black and then the brown.  You need the white.”  Horses of deepest night and the finest bay, chestnut, and dun charge silently past me, their silver gleaming, their leather straining, their resplendent riders looking like the bastard children of God’s avenging angels and Tolkien’s elves.  Finally, a heavily guarded white horse appears.  On his back is a knight clad head to toe in white armor.

    
The fingers unshackle my wrist and I blink.  The Mushroom Woman is staring at me, her expression grave.  “You must have heart and be brave.  You must charge into the faerie hoard and pull him from his mount.  Roxel will not want to give him to you, so she will try everything to get you to release him.  But you must have faith and hold tight.  Hold tight to the father of your child, for your grasp will be the only thing that protects him from theirs.  You must cover him in this,” she snaps her fingers and suddenly there’s a thick green cape in her hand which she presents to me, “for it will shield him from the searching eyes of the Hunter’s hounds.  In this way, you will save him from his role as being tithe-bound.”

    
Clutching the thick velvet cape, I stare at her for a long moment, uncertain if she will continue speaking or not.  I don’t know how to react to what she has told me and I can’t be certain if it is truth or a wickedly spun tale.

    
She steps back, releasing the scroll so that it snaps back into a loose roll and falls to the dirt.  “There is little time to prepare, Jeanette.  You must save young Tamrin.”

    
Nodding, I back away.  I’m more than willing to get away, especially since she seems to have forgotten to name my baby and his purpose.

When I come out of the cave, I must have a priceless look on my face because Connor shoots to his feet and prowls around me as if checking for marks.  When he sees none, he examines my face more closely.  “Did you get what you needed?”

    
Um…  Part of me wants to laugh until I cry, but I hold the cape up and nod, my neck and body stiff.  Connor puts a hand on my shoulder and guides me away.  “Come on, let’s get out of here.  This place makes my skin crawl.”

    
On the drive back to his grandmother’s farmhouse, I tell Connor what Mushroom Woman told me.  It’s only fair that I share the information since he did hold up his end of the bargain.

    
When I’m done speaking he frowns.

    
“Does that help?” I ask.

    
The breath he lets out is a bitter scoff.  “No.  Not really.”

    
“Can I ask?”

    
“No.”

    
I turn away.  “Okay.  Well, thank you and…good luck.”

    
“Yeah.  We’re both gonna need it,” Connor mutters.

Jeanette

    
I push into the Airmid’s Café and glance around.  Celeste sits in one of the corner booths, her hands wrapped around a gigantic mug.  When she sees me, she straightens and forces a nervous smile.  It’s good to see I’m not the only one who is anxious about this.

    
I take a deep breath and let it out.  With what I have to do tonight, my mind is really not in the right place and I don’t want to deal with the stress of trying to work things out with Celeste, but Amber insisted this could not wait.

    
I shove my purse up over my shoulder and walk toward Celeste.  “Hey.”

    
“Hi.”  Her eyes are too big.  “Where’s Amber?”

    
“Parking the car.”  As soon as I say it, my phone vibrates.  It’s a text from Amber.

    
I’M GOING SHOPPING.  YOU TWO TALK I’LL BE BACK IN AN HOUR.

    
“Or not,” I say, holding up my phone. 

    
Celeste nods, her dark eyes going to her mug.

    
Feeling awkward, I put my coat in the booth.  “I’m gonna get something to drink, you want anything else?”

    
She shakes her head.

    
I order my hot chocolate and while I’m waiting, I avoid looking at Celeste’s big eyes and eavesdrop on this gorgeous blond couple sitting at the counter instead. 

    
“So, where are we going for dinner,” she asks.  Her voice seems to have a tone that’s just for his ears.

    
He smirks at her, his fingers playing over the back of her hand and I see she has scars there.  Scars he loves to touch because they’re part of her.  “It’s a secret,
mo
rό
s
.”

    
She smiles at him, shy and innocent.  He reaches out and slips a strand of her hair behind her ear.  His fingers linger, dragging down her jaw and her neck.

    
“You’ll love it, I promise,” he adds.  His expression is so earnest and intent that anyone with sight can see he’d put his everything into making her happy.  I hope she believes him, because I do.

    
The way they look at and touch each other reminds me of Tamrin and my chest starts to ache.  What if I can’t do it tonight?  What if-

    
“Hot chocolate for Jeanette!”  The barista – dressed like Cat Woman for Halloween – yells, even though I’m standing right there.  I take the massive mug from her and head to the booth.

    
Celeste has noticed the couple too and when I sit down she says.  “That’s so disgusting.”

    
I glance back at the couple.  They’re one of those once-in-a-lifetime couples that looks and acts so perfect for each other – like God built them to be a pair and you couldn’t imagine them being with someone else.  Adam and Eve.  Soul mates, like me and Tam.  I hope they work out together.  I hope they have a normal human life with no worries about what supernatural forces will draw them apart.  “I think it’s cute.”

    
She turns away, her expression dark.  “People and their PDA, get a room.”

    
I frown, confused.  That’s hypocritical considering she’s been dressing in a flashy manner and hooking up with people left and right at parties.  “It’s not like they’re playing tonsil hockey or anything, Celeste.  They’re just in love, give them a break.”

    
She snorts and looks out the window, staring at the Agway across the street.  “I don’t believe in love.”

    
I squint at her.  “Really?  ‘Cause the Celeste I used to know believed in it.”

    
Her eyes slide sideways and stare at me for a long time.  I stay glued to those eyes, wondering how she’s going to react to me outing her.  Does she know she’s a different girl?  That she’s not my Best Friend #3 anymore?  Does she know she has become a stranger to me?

    
Letting out a long sigh, she looks down and starts stirring her hot chocolate which has gone all lumpy from the dissolved whipped cream.  “I used to think I was in love,” she confesses.