Autumn (20 page)

             
Arabel sent Eli a message asking why she’d not been able to link with him prior and she saw him shrug. He did not know, but at least they could hear each other now.

             
A tall Gypsy dressed elegantly in unrelieved black rose from his seat at the head of the room and everyone present watched him with bated breath. Arabel’s eye was drawn to him immediately. His hair stood out particularly as he had thick, slightly wavy hair of bright silver which was relieved dramatically by a stunning forelock of stark black. The room became silent, pregnant with hushed expectancy as everyone stared at the tall man with the unusual hair.

             
“Arabel Spade, thank you for responding to our request for an inquiry,” the distinguished man began and Arabel’s heart pounded wildly within her chest.

             
The man motioned for Arabel to be seated on a small cedar stool at the head of the room, a location where she would be both visible and yet separated from the rest of the occupants. Arabel sat down immediately, glad to be off of her nervous legs.

             
Mireille moved away to join her son and husband, leaving Arabel alone at the head of the room with all eyes speculatively fastened upon her. Arabel folded her hands in her lap and sat demurely, clearing herself as best she could of any nervousness, twinges of guilt, obstinate regret and her annoyingly overwhelming desire to simply flee the room.

             
“I am Xavier Cross,” the tall Gypsy informed Arabel. “I am leader of the Gypsy Council of Elders.”

             
Xavier strode closer to Arabel until he was very near and she could see his eyes and he could read hers. Xavier’s eyes were a clear, sky blue and they were filled with a discerning grace that granted Arabel a moment’s pause from anxiety and a glimmer of hope yet for understanding and forgiveness. 

             
Xavier Cross was a gracious man, as well as a very handsome, virile presence and Arabel was not unaffected by his poise and magnetism. Arabel could tell he was also kind-hearted and had experienced a great sorrow in his life, one he’d yet to release. Arabel could feel the slow roll of his heartbeat and the lingering sadness that kept him locked within a stubborn pattern of self-recrimination.

             
Xavier was young to have such uniquely coloured silver hair and he kept it loose to his shoulders. Arabel wondered idly if Xavier’s unrelenting grief was responsible for stealing all but the one dramatic lock of black pigment from his hair, as she tried to concentrate on anything but her fluttering nerves and the reason he now stood imposingly in front of her.

             
Xavier peered at Arabel strangely. His eyes captured hers in a moment of intense intimacy. Arabel gasped in surprise; it was as if he could see her thoughts. She struggled to shield herself, putting psychic blocks up within the gates of her mind, but as soon as she built the walls, she saw Xavier’s hands within the dark chambers of her mind, cleverly pulling the stones back down.

             
Arabel let the walls tumble. She kept her eyes focused on the tall, enigmatic Gypsy leader and could easily comprehend why he inspired both trust and confidence within his kin.

             
Xavier thanked the Gypsies for coming and assured them that all of their questions would be answered during this session. His booming bass carried to all corners of the vast room, easily capturing the already overly-attentive audience. He then returned his focus to Arabel.

             
“You have been asked before us so we might be advised as to the account of your acquaintance with Jonty Governs and to comprehend your actions in regard to this man,” Xavier began. “You are aware, no doubt, that Governs is a thief who has been an outlaw since abusing our trust and stealing our gold and livestock?”  Xavier paused and looked down at Arabel with his astute, mesmerizing sky eyes.

             
Arabel felt riveted by Xavier’s intense gaze and she wondered just how far into her own mind the man could see. Arabel could feel his mental tendrils exploring their way into her mind and she forced herself to allow his meandering plunder. She let her mind go blank.

             
“Yes, I am aware that Jonty Governs is a thief and a wanted man,” Arabel replied and she loathed that her voice sounded weak and ineffectual, even to herself.

             
Ira, the crow, shifted his feet upon her shoulder and flapped his wings slightly. Arabel knew Ira would protest, and protest loudly, should anger or violence for her actions be directed toward her. Arabel drew courage from the corvid and took a deep breath.

             
Xavier nodded at Arabel encouragingly. “Tell us what you know,” he prompted and Arabel began her tale.

             
She recounted for the Gypsies how she’d spotted Jonty in the woods and he’d flagged her down, beseeching her for help. As Arabel moved further into the telling of the encounter her voice became firmer and her heart slowed once more to resume its regularly timed beats.

             
Arabel suddenly realized, mid-story, that she had exacted a promise from Jonty Governs and tonight she was going to wager everything she had on the collection of his reluctant vow. Why exactly Arabel hadn’t collected on this treasured boon before, she wasn’t entirely certain, but that no longer mattered or was of any relevance to her. Surging now through Arabel instead was the powerful anticipation of being able to make things right, both for herself and for Eli, whom she despised herself for placing in danger in the first place.

             
“He swore his innocence in the matter of Klara and never mentioned any knowledge of Indra Northrup,” Arabel informed the gathered crowd, as Xavier continued to probe her mind.

             
Arabel continued to allow Xavier access as she knew he would be able to easily see she was telling the truth and that her actions had come from a place of wanting to solve the murders, as opposed to desiring to let a known thief escape justice. Arabel hoped Xavier would comprehend her logic and that she would then be free to set her new plan in motion. Arabel had reached the point in her telling where she’d come to the conclusion that the thief needed to be set free in order to draw out the real killer.

             
“It seemed completely obvious to me at the time,” Arabel spoke earnestly, “that if Jonty were free, but still under suspicion of committing the crimes, he would somehow act as bait for the real killer. The murderer would then get sloppy, believing himself to be in the clear; he would consider himself completely unsuspected and hopefully this arrogance would lead to his undoing, and to a fatal mistake.”

             
The room was filled with a low, hostile murmuring and intense, avid speculation as the Gypsies weighed in upon her words. Arabel could feel the tension sliding throughout the Lodge. She felt Eli’s support underneath the anger around her and she clung to it gratefully.

             
“But someone else got killed instead!” a shrill voice sounded from the back of the room.

             
“You might as well have killed that girl yourself!” someone else shouted and Arabel felt real fear enter her heart. The mood was against her and she could feel exultant tendrils of the grey energy swirling around her.

             
“I had my crow follow him,” Arabel continued, fighting to be heard over the din. “And I have seen where he’s left his caravan – it’s nowhere I recognize, but perhaps one of you will know the location of the mental images!”

             
As the room became increasingly animated, Xavier held up a hand to command silence and he then addressed the crowd.

             
“Arabel Spade speaks the truth,” Xavier intoned gravely. “She did not wish to shield or abet this criminal in his unscrupulous behaviour. I have searched her mind thoroughly and it is exceedingly clear that she did not fully understand there would be undesirable consequences to her well-intentioned yet ill-advised actions.”

             
A thin woman a few rows away from Eli jumped to her feet furiously.

             
“How does not knowing make her actions palatable?” the woman demanded angrily.

             
Another woman stood up now as well, and then two men. All wore disgusted expressions.

             
“She needs to pay us back then, for all that was stolen, if she can’t pay us back for letting the thief go!” the second woman demanded.

             
“Yes! Retribution!”

             
A chorus of assent arose from the adjoining benches and Arabel could feel the burning emotion as the crowd seemed ready to hold her responsible. The grey energy had filled the room and Arabel did not understand that no one seemed to see it but herself. Arabel looked to Eli; his brown eyes were worried.

             
“And why did you think setting the thief free would help bring who you say is ‘the real killer’ out of hiding?” one of the men questioned, his voice a sharp blade of annoyance.

             
The Gypsies were all now speaking amongst themselves and the room became engorged with their discontent.

             
Xavier stood abruptly.

             
“Silence!” he admonished the Gypsies sternly. “I have reviewed the images and feel it is safe to relay that Governs currently resides on the far side of Magpie Moor. It appears he is laden down in a caravan with rutted wheels; his is a stranded caravan, apparently, currently stuck in both mud and snow. At this time, I cannot see the thief himself, but we most certainly now have ascertained his hideout.”

             
Xavier’s news was greeted by a chorus of Gypsy cheers and vocalizing as to how they could be down at Jonty’s caravan to collect or wait out the wanted man within a matter of hours. The air was ripe with the thirsty desire of revenge. Arabel could see the grey energy, hovering, listening. She looked to Xavier; couldn’t he sense it too?

             
“There is something else.”

             
The room quieted immediately as Arabel stood.

             
“When I released Jonty Governs, as I’ve told you, I had my crow follow him. I also exacted a promise from the thief that when I needed him, he would re-appear. With your permission,” Arabel glanced into Xavier’s sky blue eyes, “I will call for him now.”

             
“He’s a thief! He’s not going to come when some slip of a girl calls him! ‘Specially not going to come for some girl he’s already given the heave-ho to!” a sarcastic voice belted out from the back of the room.

             
“You can’t trust her! She’s not one of us!” someone else mocked.

             
Arabel’s eyed widened involuntarily when, in the middle of the on-going fracas, the tiny albino medium stood up. The fragmented and angry Gypsies immediately fell silent of their own accord and Arabel wondered in appreciative fascination what sway Francesca held over them. The young girl seemed imbued with an otherworldly calm as she moved toward Arabel, one small white hand outstretched.

             
Francesca’s determined pink eyes bore down reassuringly on Arabel’s bright blue ones and Arabel knew intuitively that Francesca could also see the infectiously negative grey energy as it filled the Lodge with its twin calling cards of fear and anger.

             
“Arabel, call Jonty now. I will assist you,” Francesca said softly, clasping Arabel’s larger hand within her own small, cold one and then placing her other hand overtop of their joined fingers.

             
A sense of moving out of her body at faster than the speed of light unsettled Arabel as she felt herself suddenly propelled into space, but she knew she also still remained in the room with the Gypsies. Despite this, it clearly felt as though Arabel and Francesca had left the Lodge completely and that they were right now flying over the trees outside; they had become corvids themselves, and were now hunting their elusive prey.

             
It was an unnerving sensation and Arabel did not really understand what was going on. Francesca squeezed Arabel’s hand, as if sensing her companion’s discomfort. This was like no sort of astral travel that Arabel had ever experienced before; this was like splitting yourself in two and then astral traveling with only one part of your soul while the other remained locked in a separate reality.

             
Arabel felt that her eyes had become corvid eyes; she could pick her way through the darkness with ease and no small movement escaped her vision.

             
“Now,” Francesca suggested brightly and Arabel realized she was once again centered within the Lodge, “let’s focus on Jonty’s image.”

             
The two girls closed their eyes and in the silence of the room Arabel swore she could hear the nervous, anticipatory breathing of everyone assembled. Simultaneously, however, Arabel was aware of the amazing sensation of flying, of traveling invisibly, like air particles; of moving at what appeared to be light speed, under the stars, and overtop the thickly canopied forest.