Page 7 of The Gargoyle's Glade
“Yes, yes. But you were a very welcome guest here with me as well, with just as many of your own mysteries. That much is true.” The examination continued, with Ophelia tracing the dimensions of my ears and counting the little bumps of bone down my upper spine. She frowned, then got to her feet, pulling me by the hand to follow her.
She took me over to the table of mysterious items and started rearranging them all again.
“Finger?” she asked. Confused, I offered my hand and she pricked my index finger, then squeezed a drop of blood into the tiny iron cauldron.
“What’s that for?” I asked, pushing the pad of my thumb against the tiny spot of blood to ease the sting away.
“Information.” Ophelia’s hands moved surprisingly fast as she shifted things around.
A piece of rose quartz got relocated from the right side of the table to the left, and a small obelisk of obsidian was removed altogether. Salt and some kind of grain went into the cauldron with some dried wood shavings like the kind we used in the stables back home. The candle underneath suddenly had a flame, though I hadn’t seen her strike a flint.
Smoke rose in a slow gray curl, and Hailon’s hand clasped mine. Her brief smile was meant to be reassuring, but I could feel her tension.
The smoke formed what looked like words as it traveled higher in the air. Ophelia muttered to herself, the tendrils shifting and reforming in a way that shouldn’t have been possible.
“That’s not what happened for me.” Hailon’s voice was low, but she seemed relieved.
“This is different. Merry is different,” Ophelia said in response, arm raised as she traced along the curly swirls with a fingertip, careful not to actually touch or disturb them as she puzzled out their meaning.
“What happened for you?” I asked.
“I saw faces. My parents.”
“Oh.” I squeezed her arm. That was beyond significant for Hailon considering she’d been raised by her mother’s friend, awoman Hailon knew as Aunt Sal, since she was very small. She had never actually known her parents.
As the smoke began to falter and dissipate, Ophelia moved as quickly as she was able to get a quill and a journal. Hastily, she sketched down what she’d seen. “Better than nothing,” she muttered, then she threw the window open again so the smoke would clear. “Human,” she nodded. “Though there must be something magical in there allowing this talent to bloom. Likely a hedge witch, somewhere back in the line. Perhaps some other kind of mage.” Ophelia patted my shoulder and her eyes crinkled. “You’re a rare find, Merry. Seems you belong here with us.”
My face grew hot. Hearing that kind of sentiment delivered so casually was far more potent than I could have expected. I missed my family dearly, but I’d left to find something more for myself and somehow… I’d already found it.
“Mostly it’s been demons bringing me fascinating women, but I suppose in this case I’ve got a horse to thank,” Ophelia sighed, making short work of her abandoned tea and pouring another.
“Wait, is Jacks…?” He’d never tried to speak in my mind that I could recall, but I was discounting nothing at this point.
“He’s definitely something special. Don’t fret over it, though. If he can and wants to, he will. What’s meant to be will be.” The ancient sorceress turned and started to hunt along her bookshelves for something. She plucked a thin volume out, one bound in rich tan leather. “Take this. It should help.”
“Thank you.”
She settled back into her chair with a groan. “You’ll be coming to see me soon, I’ll wager. The invitation is standing, mind. My door is always open to you. Both of you.”
“Thank you,” I repeated, feeling numb.
“You’re the same as you always were, Merry, despite this new knowledge.” Ophelia patted my hand. “You’re still quite human, just one with an ancestor that passed along a very unique gift.” Her brow wrinkled. “That gift may be heavy at times, simply because the threads of magic in your blood are few. Not weak, understand, just not dominant and not well trained. Present enough to produce your gift, but perhaps not enough to adequately support it without help.” She frowned, then was suddenly on her feet again, leaving my head spinning even more than it had been. “Your escort is here.”
I glanced at Hailon, silently asking how she knew someone had arrived when there’d been no sound at all. My friend just shook her head.
And then I froze again, because not only was Hailon’s man, Seir, outside, so was Coltor.
Chapter 4
Coltor
“So what?” Ophelia asked, an infuriatingly calm expression on her face.
Seir and Hailon had taken Merry back with them to the glade already. I’d thought I would be joining them, but my elder had interrupted those plans.
“How do I explain that to her?”
“You just say it. Use your words, Coltor. It’s not as difficult as you’re making it.”
