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"That's it." Rhiannon dropped onto the sofa. "Tyne is Marta's grandson--he might help us but I don't have any clue of where he is. And Rupert wasn't at home when I called him. Oh man, I'm tired."
"Let me make some tea for us." I found my way around the kitchen, glad Leo was here to help. Rhiannon's slip into trance freaked me out and whoever the hell the Indigo Court was, I didn't want them mucking inside my cousin's head.
When the tea finished steeping, I carried the tray to the living room and sat near the window, steaming cup in hand as I stared out at the woodland.
"What are you thinking?" Rhiannon sipped her tea, and some of the tension fell away from her face.
"I'm thinking I need to get my ass back out there to find Grieve."
"I'm sorry, Cicely. This isn't fair. You just got home this morning, you haven't even had a chance to unpack."
"Not a problem. I'm used to living out of my car. And when Krystal was alive, we were always on the run. This is nothing compared to nights when we were trying to get out of this city or that before the goons she hooked up with found us to collect on her drug debts."
Memories of dark nights spent running through back alleys, trying to get to the freeway so we could hitch another ride to another city, flooded my mind. I'd learned early how to cage rides, and more than once Ulean had protected me from the rapists and serial killers who prowled the highways.
"I can't begin to understand the life she put you through," Rhiannon said. "Heather wanted to bring you back more than once, but every time she talked to Krystal, she'd get off the phone crying because your mother was such a basket case and wouldn't let you come home. And by the time you did . . ."
"I felt obligated to go back to help my mother. She trained me well with guilt. I wanted to stay every time I came home for a visit. Hell, I know Heather did everything she could short of kidnapping me. But I'm here, now. That's what counts."
I set down my teacup and shrugged back into my jacket. "Call the lawyer and make an appointment for me later today, if possible. Tomorrow, if not. I'm going in search of Grieve. If I'm not back in an hour, come to the edge of the wood and call my name, but whatever you do, don't step inside."
Leo nodded. "Got it. And Cicely--be careful. Your cousin needs you."
"You're really going out there?" Rhiannon pushed herself to her feet.
"Yeah. I'll be careful," I said, zipping up my jacket.
"Do you have a pair of gloves I could wear? I didn't count on snow."
Rhiannon handed me a leather pair of gloves and a scarf. "Bundle up, it's cold out there. And please, be careful. I don't want to lose you, too."
Before I headed outside, I ran upstairs and grabbed my switchblade. Highly illegal to carry but I didn't give a damn. I'd learned early that protecting myself was worth getting ragged on by the police if they caught me. As I stepped out onto the porch, Rhiannon was on the phone, talking to the lawyer.
The snow had let up, the clouds parting just enough to show the moon rising, full and round in the afternoon sky. The air was ripe with the tang of ozone that presaged a hard winter storm.
I crossed the yard. When I was little, Rhiannon and I weren't supposed to go into the ravine alone, but we always found a way to sneak off without being caught. I suspected my aunt always knew, but she never said anything.
The glade didn't have an official name. Huge, it sprawled for a good twenty miles, winding its way through the foothills of the western Cascades that bordered the back end of New Forest, Washington.
Grieve had called the thicket the Golden Wood but I thought of it as spider heaven. In spring, summer, and fall, golden and white orb weavers hung thick in the copse, spinning their webs from tree branch to bush to giant fern, a thick lacy net for catching flies and mosquitoes and the occasional dragonfly.
I jammed my hands in the pockets of my jeans as I came to the edge of the lawn and glanced back at the house. Rhiannon was sitting in the living room at Heather's desk as she spoke on the phone, illuminated by the light spilling out from the bay window. I stared at her through narrowed eyes. For some reason, the realization that I could see her so clearly from here made me nervous, as if I were a hunter, watching a doe through a rifle scope.
Taking a deep breath, I shook off the feeling and approached the edge of the ravine, my boots squeaking on the powdery snow. The undergrowth thickened, rich with bracken and brambles, and maidenhair ferns stood half as tall as I. Every sound grew muffled as I stepped into the shelter of the towering firs. I let out a long breath, glancing around. Nothing jumped out at me, or caught me up, and I took another step, then another.
Dim light splashed through the trees, making for an eerie play of shadow puppets against the falling leaves and trunks. My boots scrunched along the trail as I scrambled my way down the overgrown path leading into the heart of the ravine. Pausing, I closed my eyes and listened.
At first all I could hear was the scuffle of small animals rustling through the brush and the call of birdsong that echoed in the frozen air. After a moment, I caught the cadence of wind and let my mind roam.
There--voices from off to my right.
"Grieve?" I whispered his name, sending it along the slipstream. It had been a while since I'd tried to harness the breeze this way. There wasn't much call for it in the city, but here . . . here, everything came streaming back.
After a moment, I whispered his name again. "Grieve, are you here? Are you really still here?"
Never hurry. Grieve's voice echoed in my memory. Give it time. Don't try so hard--I know it's hard to be patient when you're still so young, but you'll need these skills, Cicely. You'll need them as you grow up.
He'd known, I thought. He'd known that I was leaving soon, and he'd tried to prepare me.
