The Crimson Brand (18 page)

Penny made herself as unobtrusive as possible, sitting on the porch steps.  She didn’t think she’d be able to stop Ellen from simply vaulting the railing and speeding away if she decided to, but Penny hoped curiosity would win out over fear.

Ellen took another sip of the water, then unexpectedly poured the rest of it over her upturned face.  Eyes squeezed shut, she shook the excess water from her hair, then opened her eyes again and faced Penny.

“Thanks.  I guess I know I’m not dreaming this now.  So unless I’m completely losing my mind, what I saw actually happened?”  She looked at Ronan, as if asking for confirmation. 

He neither confirmed nor denied what she’d seen, only settled himself on the porch and continued to watch her.

“It was real,” Penny said.  She tried to gauge Ellen’s acceptance by her expression, but she kept her face unhelpfully neutral.  “I’ll tell you about it if you want, but you have to promise me something.”

Ellen’s face finally registered a new emotion
—
uncertainty.

“What do you want me to promise?”

“I want you to not tell anyone, and I want you to try to keep an open mind.”  Penny grinned at her, as if to suggest that she wasn’t asking much.

Ellen sighed.  “I won’t tell anyone.  I just came over to see if you wanted to hang out.  I won’t blab.”

Penny relaxed a little and saw Ronan do the same.

“And as for keeping an open mind ...,” Ellen returned Penny’s grin with a slightly manic one of her own, “I’m still not convinced I didn’t imagine the whole thing, but I’m not convinced I did, either.”

“We can work with uncertainty,” Ronan said unexpectedly.  “Where do you propose we begin, Penny?”

Penny knew exactly where to begin.

“The hollow,” Penny said, and Ronan nodded.

“Are we going somewhere?”  Excitement and fear fought for control of Ellen’s face as she gave Penny’s bike a sidelong glance.

“We are,” Penny said, trying not to laugh at Ellen’s panicked expression, “but we can get there without flying.”

She rose and walked past Ellen to the front door, Ronan following at her heels.  Ellen followed her inside, on to the second floor, and up the ladder into her bedroom.  Ellen’s skepticism remained as Penny pulled out her wand and touched the wardrobe door with it.

“Go ahead,” Penny said.  “Open it.”

“Oookay.”  Confusion overshadowed doubt as Ellen reached for the lever, pushed it down to unlatch the door, and pulled it open.

A light breeze stirred the coats and shirts, and the muffled babble of running water unexpectedly filled the room.  A bird chirped from inside the wardrobe.

Ronan leapt past them and through the door.

Penny pushed aside the scant clothing blocking her way into Aurora Hollow and followed him.

After a brief hesitation, Ellen did the same, bending low to avoid the hanger rod.

She stepped through to the other side, and was convinced.

*   *   *

A few hours later Penny watched Ellen pedal out of sight down her driveway, Ronan following at a discreet distance.  Probably to see if she’d keep her promise not to blab, Penny thought.  With Susan still at work and the house to herself for a few more hours, Penny decided to spend some time with the photo album.  There was still half a day to consider how she was going to break the news to Zoe and Katie that she’d been seen, flying no less, by one of their classmates. 

She tried to convince herself they would be ecstatic, excited to have Ellen in on the secret … one of them.  But it had been just the three of them for so long, and Penny knew from experience that the longer you kept a secret, the harder it was to share.

Her mother had taught her about secrets, and Ronan seemed determined to continue those lessons.

Penny sat on her bed, pillow behind her back, leaning against the headboard.  Her fingers traced the embossed words on the cover of the album–
Book of Memories
–
before she finally opened it.  She turned to her mother’s page and drank in the images.  Her mother as a toddler.  Another of her at roughly Penny’s age. A third of her as a young woman.  Then the empty sleeve, the white space that left her mother’s page incomplete. 

Penny slid the drawer of her bedside table open and reached inside, fumbling over the odd assortment of stuff that had found its way there over the past year, until she found what she was looking for.  She pulled out the old, creased photo of her mother and father together, smiling, happy, and slid it into the empty sleeve, where she was sure it was meant to be.

She saw them all together, a short life-story in four parts, with a ghostly reflection of her own face transposed over the shiny plastic.

Suddenly she wanted more from these still images, needed more.  Needed to see herself in them, with her parents, like any other girl.

Penny set the album aside and reached beneath her bed, dragging out the dusty old silver-framed mirror, the Conjuring Glass that had caused so much trouble in the Birdman’s hands the previous autumn.  She lifted it onto her bed and sat cross-legged before it, taking a few seconds to decide which picture she wanted.

She chose the old one, sliding it back out and placing it on the glass so she could see her face reflected next to the smaller, grainier images of her mother and father.

She blinked back tears.

“Wish I could have been there.  Wish I could have known you.”

The Conjuring Glass shimmered like a pool of disturbed water, and the old photograph sank beneath its surface.  A moment later it was gone.

“No!”  Penny shouted.  She grabbed the Conjuring Glass by its silver frame, then watched in wonder as it changed.   There was no swirl of fog, no confusing jumble of images as it attempted to connect to one of the little mirrors linked to it.  Penny’s face was gone from the mirror, and the glass
became
the photograph.

Or very nearly.

It became the backdrop, a sunny summer day in the town park, the wide Chehalis River flowing lazily in the background.  And the river
was
moving.  A tree almost out of frame shivered in the breeze.  Then Penny heard voices.

“Don’t be silly.  It won’t steal your soul.”  It was a woman’s voice, strange yet familiar.  The young woman’s joy and enthusiasm, two things she had never heard in her mother’s voice, made it strange, but it was Diana’s voice.

She backed into the frame laughing, bent forward and dragging someone with her.  “Come on, Torin!  I warned you this was coming.”

Feeble protests in a pleasant, deep male voice followed.  “Stop, Di, you know I don’t like being photographed.”

But protesting or not, he was also laughing, and Penny knew he would give her anything she wanted.

“Stop your whining, Big Red.  It’s for the baby!”

Penny could see from her mother’s profile that she was pregnant.  Not far along, but there was a perceptible bulge pushing at the light summer blouse when she straightened up, at last dragging the tall red-headed man into frame. 

Mere mention of the baby
—
me
, Penny thought
—
killed all resistance.  He stepped into frame, and for the few seconds it took for him to look away from Diana’s upturned, smiling face, Penny saw such tenderness in his face that it made her feel like crying.

He kissed her forehead, then the inside of her left wrist, directly over the vivid red tattoo Penny had never seen in this picture before.  She could see it more clearly now, a triangle of intersecting knots.  Torin straightened and stood beside her. 

Her clothes were light, bright.  A loose white blouse and a long skirt that flowed past her knees and rippled in the breeze.  He wore a dark shirt, snug, and blue jeans so new the creases were still apparent.  She wore open sandals; he wore black boots.

He faced the camera, his expression grim, as if bracing for a blow.

“Okay, Susan,” he said, apparently speaking to someone off-camera, “let’s get this over with.”

Diana threw a sharp elbow into his side, and his grunt of pain became laughter.

“Will you two hold still?”  Susan’s voice was much clearer, much louder, and Penny had to resist the urge to spin around, almost expecting to find her perched on the headboard like the young bird Ronan had called her.  She sounded amused rather than impatient, but Diana and Torin ended their mock struggle and faced the camera, clasping hands.  This time his smile was almost as wide as hers, and where her old picture had been creased, worn, and grainy, the image in the glass was as sharp as reality, real as the present. 

It was the same face that the Birdman had worn the previous autumn. 

Penny heard a click, saw a bright flash of white that filled the glass, obscuring them for a moment, and then Susan advanced on them, camera in hand.  A second later another figure joined them, identical to her mother except for her clothes
—
blue shorts and a black tank top
—
and her expression
—
not angry, but unhappy.

“Come on.  Tracy’s waiting for us.”

Nancy spoke directly to her sister, did not even acknowledge Torin, then grabbed Diana by the hand and dragged her away.

Torin stood with Susan for a moment, exchanged a bemused look, then followed the sisters out of frame.

My father’s name is Torin
, Penny thought. 
Diana and Torin, sittin’ in a tree ….

She realized how true Susan’s memory of the differences between them had been; they were identical, except for the tattoo, but as different as day and night.  She wished she’d known her mother before her joy had died and she had become more like ….

A wild idea hit Penny with such force and certainty that it momentarily robbed her of breath.

She remembered seeing that tattoo for the first time in another photograph in the album that lay open at her feet.  She remembered thinking
my mother never had a tattoo
.

What she was considering was so out there that it should have sounded crazy, even in the safe, private echo chamber of her spinning head.  To prove how crazy it was, Penny spoke the thought aloud.

“It was my aunt Nancy who never had a tattoo.”

The Conjuring Glass cleared; the old photograph was again where Penny had placed it.  Penny saw her own face reflected at her, mouth open, skin so pale it was almost gray, heavy scattering of freckles brighter now by comparison.  Her eyes were the worst.  They were puffy and red, wet with tears she hadn’t realized she was still shedding, wide and slightly wild with sudden knowledge, for once a true window into her soul.

“You okay, Penny?  You look sick!”  Katie drew back as if afraid her friend was contagious.

Penny had stepped through the door and into the hollow a few minutes past the usual meeting time, to find the fire already lit and Katie pacing before it.

“Thanks, Kat.  You always say the sweetest things!”  Penny was too tired, too frustrated, and too overwhelmed to hide her irritation.  The fact that Katie was right didn’t help.  If she looked anywhere near as bad as she felt, then Katie’s appraisal was probably an understatement. 

Katie gave her
the look
, and Penny instantly regretted her prickliness. 

“I’m sorry.  I fell asleep and almost didn’t wake up in time.”  She yawned hugely, as if to prove her point.  “I’m just tired.”

“It’s okay,” Katie said, and though she didn’t sound okay, the look was gone.  She appeared more sympathetic than angry.  “I crashed pretty hard today, too.  We’ve been putting in a lot of late nights.”

They waited in silence, Penny occasionally throwing more wood onto the fire to keep it from dying while they waited for Zoe.  Penny was again forced to decide how to explain the new complication with Ellen, and couldn’t really think of an approach that would make her feel less stupid. 

Flying around on her bike in broad daylight.  It was a wonder no one else had seen.

“One short tonight, ladies?”

They turned and found Ronan sitting only a few feet away, regarding them with keener than usual interest.  Penny knew what he was waiting for, and her stomach felt suddenly heavy with renewed dread.

“Ronan,” Katie said, almost shouted.  “If you don’t quit sneaking up on me like that I’m going to put a bell around your neck!”

“You’re welcome to try, young lady,” Ronan said, unperturbed.  He winked at them, and Penny felt her tension loosen a little.

Katie rolled her eyes and faced the other direction. 

At last the door opened, and Zoe stepped into the hollow.

“I’m sorry!”  Zoe stumbled as she swung the door closed, dropped the black wand as she caught herself, then kicked it almost to the creek’s edge when she bent to pick it up.  “I forgot to set my alarm.  I just woke up.”

She gave up trying to recover her wand and sat down by the fire, head hanging, a long curtain of black hair covering her face.  There was no coffee to prop her up, and Penny was afraid they might have to carry her back to her bedroom before it was over.