Autumn (52 page)

             
After all, she was now mistress of the house.

             
Arabel and Ira met Xavier at the Lodge the following morning after breakfast. Arabel was ready to learn all that she could of the Gypsy magic and determined to protect herself and those she loved with the strongest brand of spells she could master. A fierceness was growing within her, a deep longing to uncover the dark forces and render them powerless. Arabel wasn’t certain how exactly she intended to do this, but her mind was set upon its course and nothing and no one would be able to dissuade her.

             
Xavier did not bother to try. Instead, he concentrated his efforts on providing Arabel with the most potent of protective charms and the deadliest of counter-attack spells. He was delighted that Arabel was such an apt pupil; rarely did she fail to manifest his lessons correctly and if she did make an error it was usually small enough that only a teacher who expected perfection – such as Xavier – would notice.

             
The hours passed easily and it was not until Arabel’s stomach gave such a loud rumble that Xavier could hear it that he laughed and mentioned it was time to break for lunch. The two companions walked to the main Gypsy social area and seated themselves on a long wooden bench. A stout Gypsy man was serving plates of steamed rice and vegetables and Arabel and Xavier gladly accepted the food he offered them.

             
“Why do the Dorojenja hate Jonty so?” Arabel asked Xavier. It had bothered her for some time now as to why the dark forces seemed so focused upon the small, thieving man.

             
Xavier smiled. “Governs is much like you, Arabel. The thief is also a magnet for the darkness, albeit, not a very strong one, but Chauncer likely focused on him while they were working together. And the fact that the thief stole all of the Dorojenja horses and sold them mustn’t be left out of the equation.”

             
“But I thought Jonty only stole the Gypsy horses?”

             
“That is so, Arabel, but many of the Dorojenja members are unfortunately hidden within our own ranks. It isn’t possible to know who else Jonty might have offended by his prior actions.”

             
Arabel was quiet as she digested this information and heartily tucked into the nourishing meal in front of her. Arabel’s appetite had returned as the blank sadness within her had given way to the overwhelming desire to disrupt the Dorojenja’s murderous activities and end their reign of terror.

             
Arabel grieved, naturally, but she also knew that her grandmother was now happier and more content in her new afterlife than when she’d been alive, therefore Arabel tried to focus on the freedom Amelia Bodean had now attained as opposed to the loss that she, Arabel, had sustained. Arabel was also continuously aware of the other losses, Alice-May, Klara, Minnie, Indra, and Paloma – and who knew how many other unfortunates had been tied to a wheel of darkness – and she was determined to seek justice for all of them.

             
Arabel was engrossed in both thought and her meal and was briefly startled when someone sat down beside her and gave her shoulder a bolstering squeeze. She turned to see who it could be and was pleased by the interruption. It was Zander. He nodded to his brother and then turned to Arabel.

             
“I should like to teach you my favourite spell,” he offered with a contagiously friendly grin.

             
“Not the Discrepancy Spell?” Xavier inquired bemusedly.

             
Zander laughed heartily, his bright, handsome face lighting up with his inherent enthusiasm.

             
“But of course, dear brother, I mean for Arabel to master the Discrepancy Spell! Who practices magic without it?” Zander asked playfully.

             
Arabel smiled at him. “It sounds delightful,” she responded, “and I would be honoured to have both Cross brothers instructing me in the magical arts!”

             
“It is decided then!” Zander affirmed. “I will meet you at the back of the Lodge in half an hour.”

             
Zander wandered off after Arabel nodded her consent and Xavier watched his brother leave with an amused expression upon his attractive face.

             
“You must be very close,” Arabel observed.

             
Xavier smiled at her. “Yes. We are lucky to have one another.”

             
They finished their meal and then made their way back to the Lodge to meet Zander.

             
Arabel was soon to learn that the Discrepancy Spell was well-known but not in common usage. However, it remained Zander’s favourite spell.

             
“Like this,” Zander said, raising his left hand and creating an arc with his athame. With his right hand, Zander drew lines within the air, a convoluted series of zigzag motions that almost left Arabel dizzy as she watched.

             
“That’s quite a series of lines to learn!” she remarked with a small chuckle.

             
“Try it!” Zander urged. “’Tis easier than it appears, I promise!”

             
“The lines are already in the air,” Xavier elaborated. “You simply need to find the groove in which they sit. All spells are like that – they all exist already, fully formed, in the ether. The magical practitioner needs only view the invisible realm and the lines will appear, which is a sort of spell in and of itself, of course.”

             
“How do I see within the ether?” Arabel inquired, greatly intrigued by this new bit of Gypsy wisdom.

             
“Concentrate. Believe. And allow.” Xavier responded somewhat mysteriously. “Use your third eye.”

             
Arabel glanced at Xavier, a small frown puckering her lovely forehead. “Concentrate, believe, and allow,” she repeated. “I believe I can do that!”

             
The two brothers smiled easily at their eager pupil and within no time Arabel had mastered Zander’s favourite spell, dizzy series of lines and all.

             
Xavier excused himself shortly thereafter and Arabel thanked him profusely for his time and effort. The Gypsy leader graciously told her it was his pleasure to assist her and took his leave.

             
Zander walked with Arabel toward the main part of the camp. Ira rode contentedly upon Arabel’s left shoulder, clucking now and again and bestowing small kisses on Arabel’s cheek. Arabel nuzzled her face into the bird’s black feathers lovingly.

             
“Where is Eli today?” Zander asked.

             
“Working,” Arabel replied thoughtfully as an idea began to form in her mind.

             
Zander shot her a bemused look. “Out with it, Arabel,” he said.

             
“I’ve an idea to go visit the Elemental,” Arabel began, “and I would dearly love some company, if you’re free to come with.”

             
Zander nodded immediately. “Of course I will accompany you. Maybe this time, I can merge into the tree dimension as well!”

             
Arabel smiled. “Thank you, Zander.”

             
“It’s best you are not alone until we end this dark madness. And I am curious about that fellow!”

             
The two companions went to the Gypsy stables where Zander brought out his favourite palomino, Naruba, for himself to ride and procured a pale grey mare named Boreana, for Arabel to borrow. They saddled up quickly and within minutes were on their way to the oldest part of the forest to seek out the Elemental.

             
As they rode, an easy silence fell upon them. Birds chirped in the distance and the packed snow on the ground muffled the sound of the horse’s galloping hooves. Ira flew overhead, scouting as usual, his beady black eyes missing nothing.

             
“Have you discerned yet what your grandmother was doing keeping company with Paloma Porchetto?” Zander inquired.

             
Arabel reflected for a moment before responding. “I’m not entirely certain,” she mused, “as all I have to go by are my own psychic impressions, but it seems most likely to me that they were attempting to reason with Saul. After all, he was Paloma’s only child and it appears obvious now that my grandmother and Paloma must have, at some point during their strange acquaintance, somehow become allies.”

             
“It is decidedly odd, however, that your grandmother should have sought to befriend the very woman with whom her husband had engaged in an affair.”

             
“Odd? Absolutely, but apparently true.”

             
“I have since heard tell that Paloma was locked away in a sanatorium all of these long years, only to be released upon the death of Raoul, and that in her absence, Saul had mightily been turned against her. Old Porchetto apparently had Yolanda Selivant offered up as a substitute mother-figure.”

             
“Where have you learnt that?”

             
“Xavier has spoken with the Chief. Apparently he doused the captured Dorojenja with Truth Serum and much has been revealed.” Zander laughed. “Truth Serum!” he mocked. “Talk about going about things the hard way!”

             
“Perhaps he wanted them to suffer?” Arabel offered.

             
“Quite likely,” Zander agreed, his astute green eyes twinkling as he refused to hide the fact that he very much enjoyed the thought of the Dorojenja’s discomfort. “Though it is hard to imagine their hard hearts feel very much of anything.”

             
“Their hard hearts? You think they have no feeling of affection toward even one another? They are just blind servants of darkness? No humanity preserved whatsoever?”
             

             
“Define humanity,” Zander vollied.

             
Arabel was intrigued by the direction of Zander’s thought processes. “If one has not developed the capacity of the heart,” she pondered, “then the psychic gifts are hollow. Is that what you mean to put forth as to the actual weakness of the Dorojenja? That we can defeat them through our heart-centered humanity?”

             
Zander nodded. “Perhaps,” he replied, shrugging. “The only quality of the Dorojenja that I am certain enough of to quantify is that they have no heart. Their actions are propelled by a desire to maim and destroy, to induce complete suffering, and thereby seize control. They have developed the sixth energy center to the lawless detriment of the fourth; creating unbalance in a most ego-inducing manner!”

             
Arabel let Zander’s words sink in before she replied. “I feel sorry for anyone who has lost the capacity to love,” she said softly, thinking of Eli, and of how rare and fantastical the gift of his love had proven to be. She only hoped that the love she offered in return was of equal value. She believed it was; they seemed so evenly matched.

             
Zander smiled at Arabel and she remembered his propensity for effortlessly reading minds.

             
“I’ll not betray your confidences, Arabel,” Zander reproached her gently, “but there are others with no such qualms. Best learn to shutter your mind from prying or inadvertent contact.”

             
Arabel nodded. “Yes,” she agreed.

             
The woods enclosed them in a silent world of limbs, trunks, snow, and energy. The woods snapped with pulsing nature, mostly hidden. The squirrels foraged in the low, snowy brush, the birds scampered between the highest boughs, and the wind chilled all within its path as it whispered its secrets amongst the last clinging autumn foliage.

             
The large oak tree with the crooked spike stood majestically in the foreground with small beams of sunlight cascading through the uppermost tip of the spike. Arabel drew in her breath sharply upon viewing it. The other trees in the vicinity, although also very large and old and impressively grand, did not call to Arabel as did the home of the Elemental. The crooked spiked oak seemed to beckon to Arabel beguilingly and the familiar, giant form of the Elemental appeared almost instantly before her appreciative eye.

             
“Daughter of Vio-letta!” the towering creature boomed.

             
Arabel smiled in greeting. “Hello, Elemental!”

             
The Elemental reached out a long, tree-like limb; the golden rope appeared magically and slithered, snake-like, toward Arabel.