Her eyes soften with understanding. “Right. Giving so oftenisin this life.” She winks at me. “I perfectly understand.”
She doesn’t remove the watch from my palm, but she does run her index finger along the golden (and, I realize now,Celtic) knotwork that lines the edges. She asks me to turn it over and does the same on the other side, stroking the designs.
“How does it work? Do you need to open it to access the Avatar?” Her voice is hushed.
“Something like that,” I hedge, trying to at least respect Collin’s warning.
“Of course. That makes sense,” she says. “It’s exquisite. And thousands of years old! They obviously wouldn’t have had the metallurgy foranyof this design back in prehistoric Ireland—let alone have known how to create an actual pocket watch! It must adapt to the times. Incredible!”
Yeah, sure, that is incredible, I guess. And it could be easy to get caught up in her enthusiasm—especially when it’s about magic, which is something I’d love to learn more about.
But her words shake me.Thousandsof years old?
I’m not sure why I’m so surprised. Sure, Collinlooksmy age and speaks modern English, but did I really think he was trapped by druids as some kind of spirit baby twenty or so years ago, and just grew up in the watch? Honestly, who knows how long he existed before they caught him? He could bemillionsof years old, right?
She closes my fingers around the timepiece and steps back. “This artifact is very powerful, Alvin. And for the moment, it’s all yours. Are yousureyou want to free the Avatar?”
There’s a look of warning in her eyes. And even though Collin has been nothing but cool with me, something inside whispers that maybe I should listen to that warning. I haven’t even known Collin a day. The truth is, thereisa lot about him that’s still a complete mystery. And not too long ago, I was at least considering the possibility that he might have been trapped in the artifact for a reason, that he could actually be some Lovecraftian horror…
“Do you think it might be dangerous to let him out?”
Her motherly smile returns, and her gaze becomes searching. “You seem like a boy with a strong moral compass who’s been through a thing or two in life. What does yourguttell you?”
Well, my gut tells me that the handsome, young-looking dude trapped in the watch has the most adorable warm smile, and that I want to snuggle and cuddle with him on trains all day long.
My anxiety, on the other hand, tells me that I’m not exactly the best judge of character, and that my trackrecord with cute guys who act nice to me, while very limited, is a far cry from what you’d call stellar.
But she asked about my gut, so I say, “I feel like he’s a good guy. That he would never hurt anyone…”
She nods, completely satisfied. “Well, that’s good enough for me!” Then she raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “And it’s a ‘he,’ is it? So the spirit presents to you as male?”
My brows scrunch in confusion. And then just as quickly, I force myself to relax them. Right. Forget how old he is—of course, the Avatar of Knowledge might not evenbea guy! It’s a spirit! Do they even have genders?
Like everything else, how I see him could all just be an illusion he’s creating to help us work better together or something. My anxiety and just overall frustration with myself (and my seemingly incurable gullibility!) ticks up one more notch.
“Of course,” I say, looking away, feeling foolish. “It’s an immaterial being. I guess it can appear however it wants…”
“Perhaps,” she says, frowning as she hears me practically mumble those last words. She then leans in and gives my shoulder another motherly squeeze, her voice becoming more encouraging. “Or, now that I think more about it, maybe itcould bemale. There are stranger things in this world, and even stranger things from beyond it! Forget what I just said. I shouldn’t have reacted that way about yourfriend. We are all geeky about something. For me, it’s plants and old magic. Sometimes I let my mouth run away with me without thinking.” She chuckles with self-deprecation.
“It’s… still a good point,” I say, painfully aware thatmy recent choice to “embrace denial” with Collin might not have been as mature or self-affirming as I thought it was.
She stands. “Well, in any event, I think you are doing the right thing here! I also think I might know a way to help set your guy free. If you don’t mind me abandoning you for a few minutes, I have something in my basement that I’m pretty sure will help!”
“No, I don’t mind,” I say.
She turns to go, and before I realize what I’m doing, I raise my fingers to her arm, stopping her. Touching anyone, let alone a virtual stranger, isn’t like me. But if she really does have something that will work, that means I might not ever see Collin again, and whether he’s anything like he appears or not, I’m going to have to deal with how it feels to lose him. It’s something I hadn’t really let myself think about at all, and I’m glad it’ll be someone like her—someone actually kind and thoughtful, theoppositeof my mom—who’ll be here when it happens.
“Thank you. I really appreciate your help. I, uh— I don’t have many friends, and it’s actually really nice not to have to do this alone.”
Her eyes widen, and she seems both surprised and maybe even genuinely touched. “You really are a sweet boy, Alvin. Your mother has no idea how rare and special that is.”
She then gives my hand a warm pat and heads inside.
Sweet. Yeah, not a word Mom would ever use about me. Not unless she was being sarcastic, anyway. I know my guard should be raised. Still, I can’t help but like thiswoman. Or wish, at least in a very small way, that someone likehercould have been my mother growing up.
But that’s not reality.
To stop myself from thinking truly insane thoughts, I check in with the Obligation inside me. That’s the other reason I need to free this spirit, and it seems like Mom keptthatinformation, at least, close to her vest. After my little nap, the compulsion is actually a bit quieter than it was before. But it doesn’t feel any weaker. If anything, it feels like it’s waiting for the right moment to kick me when I’m down. I wonder if maybe I should ask Tara about it. Supposedly druids have dealt with the fae for centuries. She might know things that Mom and Collin don’t.
