Blue Moon (14 page)

She stood in front of the Barrow's Point Post Office, which shared a building with the public library. Security was lax, and it disgusted her. An outpost such as this ought to have some sort of warning system. She'd thought she'd be surrounded by armed guards by now.

A man came out of the post office wearing a dark uniform she associated with police officers in the human lands. His cap was pulled over his ears and brows, and he had a rifle in his grip.

"Can I help you, ma'am?” he asked. His pale hair was cut short, making him look almost human. He could pass for one, in a crowd.

"Do you get a lot of humans rolling through town?” she asked.

He smiled a little. “Cars can go anywhere, but they rarely stop. Gas, usually."

She offered the scroll then put it on the sidewalk and retreated a few steps, affecting the rolling gait of the shipborn. He picked it up, undoing the thong with his teeth and unrolling it one-handed.

"You're from the ship,” he commented, and she knew he was comparing the description of her with the reality. He nodded, satisfied. “Why don't you come with me to the town hall?"

She fell into step beside him.

"Take your hair down,” he said, and she did, pulling the red stuff over her ears. “I've read,” he told her, “that the red hair means you came from the valley of fire, and that it's your element."

"I don't know. Maybe. But time, child, has diluted these things. Who knows if what was once true is now?"

She looked around. A distinctly human man was carrying a bag of donuts and coffee out to his delivery truck. He waved at them, because he thought everything was perfectly normal.

"It has certainly diluted you,” she said.

The human put his things in the cab, then turned. “Officer?"

"Yes, sir?"

She saw the look of confusion on the human's face.

"How do I get to the highway from here?"

"Easy. Go down to the light,” the policeman said, pointing, “and turn left. You'll go down a kind of lonely road for two miles, but don't worry, just keep going. Eventually, you'll see the junction sign."

"Thanks.” He settled into his seat and closed the door. “Nice town you have here."

"We like it,” he said, typical cop answer. “You have a safe trip."

They ascended a flight of six marble steps to a large, ornately carved wooden door. In the marble-lined foyer beyond, he pressed a button on a copper-colored box.

"Yes?” a voice said from the box.

"Lieutenant Verosth Patterson here, with a ship guest."

There was a beep, and he opened a second ornately carved door.

The place did not agree with Jilly's knowledge of what a municipal building looked like inside. Its carpet was lush, thick and red; the desk was of dark, twisted wood. The woman who came around the desk in her soft cotton tunic and leather pants was pure elven.

She smiled warmly and extended her had. “Bronwyn of the Gales! It's been a century!"

"Indeed,” she said. “It is good to see you, Sister."

"What news?” the woman asked, anxiously. “You do not think the queen is coming?"

"Well,” the counterfeit Bronwyn said, “you never know."

The real Bronwyn awoke with a terrible headache. she did not know where or who she was. She lay in the sand, the waves lapping her, filled with a terrible sense of dread.

She felt a presence and looked up. A woman knelt beside her. Her hair was as white as snow, her eyes a pale green. She smiled gently at her and said, “Elf woman, what are you doing here on the beach? I had thought your kind long departed hence."

Bronwyn blinked at her. “I don't know,” she whispered desperately. “I don't know anything but that something is wrong, and I have to do something about it."

The pale woman sighed softly. Cool hands ran over her forehead.

"Your memories have been washed away,” she murmured. “I know you have no knowledge as to who did this to you, but when we find them they shall be quite grieved, I promise."

She stood and held out a hand. Bronwyn took it and got to her feet.

"I am Nimue, and I have been awakened, though I don't know what for. I worry in my heart at the cause, but there is no sense in borrowing trouble until we know what it is, is there."

Bronwyn shrugged and smiled. Nimue patted her cheek.

"Since you have no memory of a name, I shall name you.” She thought for a time. “I shall name you Melnue.” Nimue smiled. “It means ‘gift of the sea.’ And I think that you will be a gift. Now come, for we have a long strange journey ahead, and I feel the need to visit some family of mine, should she still breathe."

The newly christened Melnue spoke. “Do you think the person who stole my mind is connected to what you're doing?"

"I'm afraid so, child. I have encountered you, and such things rarely happen by coincidence. When we see her, we will take back what she stole, if there is any way to do so. As I said, it is my promise."

"Thank you."

Nimue laughed. “Don't thank me yet. Now, let's find a lake, or some other fresh body of water. Time presses us, and I wish to take a quicker path."

So, not to be rude, but why are you here?” Libby leaned against the porch column, but she wasn't relaxed. She carefully kept herself between him and the front door.

Alex smiled charmingly. “I know it's early, and I should have called, but I thought that since it was such a lovely day, that maybe you'd like to take a drive.” He shrugged. “I'm kind of at loose ends right now, and I don't know anyone else here. Besides, I still owe you for saving my life."

She looked at him, at his slightly shaggy hair, his gray eyes, his craggy but handsome face. He was wearing a dress shirt and jeans, looking comfortably pleasant.

"I'll be hungry soon,” she ventured.

"Great!” He seemed very pleased, which was good. “My car and I are at your disposal, my lady."

Her first impulse was to tell him she'd follow him in her own car. Then, if she felt bored, or endangered, she could just drive away. She looked at him again, and gave into the small temptation to not look like a paranoid weirdo.

"Come in, then. You can stare at my books while I get changed."

In her room, she stood in front of the mirror, trying to pin her hair right, trying to put on some flattering makeup. She changed outfits twice. She hadn't been out with a man in years. For some reason, her “Like me or not, it's all one to me” attitude was fading, and she really wanted to look attractive.

Libby checked herself in the mirror one last time. “You'll have to do,” she told her reflection, then went out and put herself in the hands of a stranger.

While he waited, Alex did as bid and stared at her books. He crossed the room and stood by the kitchen doors, looking at the more entertainment-oriented shelves. It was a good mix of genres. Libby read a little bit of everything,—there were even a couple of Louis L'Amour westerns.

He'd taken his shoes off at the door out of respect for the warm, glossy wood of the floors and the heavy rugs. He stepped a little to his left and realized his feet were getting warmer, that the floor beneath him was almost hot. Must be over the furnace, he thought, though the day was really too warm to need the heat on.

He took another step, and heat engulfed his feet and began climbing up his body. It didn't hurt, not even when it covered his eyes and swallowed him completely.

A dam cracked open in his skull, and he knew exactly who he was, and he knew what it was like to be himself, and what he was supposed to be doing and how he'd gotten to be were he was today.

Something hit him hard on the back, and he fell away from the hot place. He looked up groggily at the dog, who put one paw on his chest and looked into his eyes.

"Dashiel, right?” He scratched the dog behind the ears. “What happened, boy? Did I faint?” He got to his feet. He knew something, or had known something a moment ago, something important.

"I'm ready to go,” Libby said, closing her bedroom door carefully behind her.

"You look lovely,” Alex said, smiling.

The warmth under his feet spoke to him as he took her hand, bending over it chivalrously.

You love her
, it said.

I know
, he whispered back, and walked away, not thinking another thing about it.

He took her to a place he'd heard of and long wanted to see called Cooper's Rock. It was across the state line in West Virginia, a long drive during which they had no choice but to talk.

"So, how did you get your driver's license?” Libby asked. She'd been staring out the side window, her feet tucked under her. She seemed very content, riding for once instead of driving.

"Oh, that's right. I told you about my memory loss."

"Yeah. So, if you have no idea who you are..."

"Well, it's not really a legal license."

She turned and gave him a shocked look. “Alex!"

"Well, what was I supposed to do? I don't know who I am, I have no way of finding out, but I need money. If you work, you have to pay taxes, so you need papers. I was able to get some fake ones—a Social Security card, a birth certificate. They're all things that allow you to get along in society.” He shrugged. “It cost me quite a bit, too."

She thought about this for awhile. “It would seem to me that you had the perfect position in life. There was no paper on you, no one in the government knew you existed."

"True, but again—work. Most employers report your earnings to someone. It's only a matter of time before they land on you about it."

"Huh,” she said.

She always had pauses, Alex noticed, as if she were taking the information in, examining it from all sides. Even something as basic as “What's your favorite movie?” was digested and inspected. It was not exactly a comfortable way to have a conversation.

Eventually, they got to the park. They drove down a long paved road and parked in the half-filled lot. He admired the stone wall that ran along part of it. He helped her out of the car, and she stretched, cat-like.

"I've never been here before,” she said, surveying the tree-decorated land, the signs pointing out different paths. “It's very beautiful."

"I hear the rock's even more so,” he said, holding out his hand. “Let's go see it."

Libby looked at him for a long moment, then realized that might make him feel uncomfortable. Although he would probably think it was suspicion, she was really thinking how handsome he was. She turned her attention to the path and took his hand, warm and broad; it swallowed hers in a gentle, comforting grip. He smiled at her sweetly, and she smiled back, trying not to blush because all she could think of right now was how nice it would be to have him kiss her.

They strolled down the flagstone path, flanked on either side by tall rhododendrons, spindly and wild. There were stone pavilions, huge structures with gigantic wooden beams across the ceiling. They cut through one, and she had to be careful not to trip on the roots that came up through the unpaved ground.

They connected back up with the stone walk and crossed a wooden bridge over a deep crevice. Then, before them, a huge slab of rock stretched out into the valley.

She paused, suddenly feeling timid. He smiled at her again and stepped out onto it. It was slightly sloped, and although she could see a fence along the rim, she wasn't comforted.

The surface was tan, rough in some places where chips of stone were coming away, smooth in others where water had etched small holes. It must have rained recently, because these little pools were filled with water. Another rhododendron grew stubbornly out of the rock.

He tugged her hand gently, and not wanting to look like a coward, she stepped onto it.

It was a living thing, that rock. She could feel it through her shoes. It was a huge, slumbering beast, dreaming of times long past.

"What a view,” Alex said, pleased. “Look, there're some hawks."

She shook herself from the vision. He had led her to the rail, and she looked out into the valley. It was a long way down, and the view seemed to stretch out forever in all directions. Hawks, or perhaps eagles, drifted on currents in the warm sun. Alex dug some change out of his pocket. He nudged her.

"You want to take a better look?” He was pointing at one of the binocular machines that stood like sentinels every so many feet along the edge. They were corroded-looking silver, their round bodies rising to a largish, plate-shaped head. They had a pair of eyes, closed now, and they swiveled.

She nodded shyly and stepped up to one. She put her eyes in front of the closed lids and waited. Alex pressed against her briefly as he fed a quarter into the slot.

The eyes opened with a click, and she could see the valley even better, see the gold on the feathers of the huge pair of birds that glided below.

"Oh, look!” she said, moving over to the side so he could see.

He grinned and hunched down a little so he could peer through the lenses.

"I'd say those are golden eagles, not hawks,” he said.

He raised an arm, inviting her back to the viewer. She could feel his chest against her back, his cheek on her hair. She smiled as the shutters over the eyes snapped shut again.

"I'll get that,” he muttered in her ear.

"Oh, no,” she said. “That one's open.” She pointed to one on the far end of the rock. It pointed down the valley. She went over to it and onto the small metal step. She looked over her shoulder at him, and he grinned, coming up behind her.

The shutter snapped open, and she was treated to a panorama worthy of oil and canvas. The trees were bright, and the Cheat River threaded through the gorge below, sparkling in the sunlight.

"It looks more like a mountain spring than a river,” Libby said.

In an authoritative guide's voice, Alex said, “The Cheat River Gorge is one-thousand-three-hundred feet deep. So, no wonder it looks small."

"Is that all you know?” she said, giggling.

"Yep.” He leaned against the fence. She winced, despite the fact it was made of stone as well as wood. They looked over the edge. It was still a long way down. She could see others on a lower trail.