Faerie Path #6: The Charmed Return (5 page)

Chapter VIII

Clive Palmer stood in the living room doorway. Anita was shocked by her father’s appearance. He looked pale and ill and he needed a shave. But his smile was the same as ever—that big sunshine smile that could always make everything right.

“Anita!” His voice was tired but happy. “Welcome home!”

She hugged him. There was an antiseptic odor on his clothes and skin—a lingering hospital smell. She wasn’t sure what to say. She wasn’t sure what he knew.

“Mum says you’ve been ill,” she tried. “That was silly of you!”

“I know. Trust me, eh?” He held her tightly—like a father who has not seen his daughter for a long time. “I’m on the mend now, though. They threw me out of the hospital. Didn’t want me lying around for no good reason when there were ill people needing a bed.” He drew back a little and took her face between his hands. “Your mum tells me you’ve forgotten a lot of things.”

She nodded. “I kind of have.” His eyes slid away from hers, and she saw a new look come over his face as he focused on Edric and Rathina—uneasy and a little resentful—as though he was seeing people he had hoped never to meet again. It was an odd look, and it made her uncomfortable. Did he know something about them that she didn’t?

“Greetings to you, Mistress Mary,” said Rathina, bowing a little to Anita’s mother. “And to you, Master Clive—I am glad indeed that your ailments are not so severe as Tania feared.” She shook her head. “Fate plays a strange hand, indeed! We condemned you and banished you for a crime you did not commit—and now we come seeking your aid, and hopefully your forgiveness.”

“You’re welcome to both,” said Mary Palmer. “Of course you are.”

Clive Palmer’s eyes widened. “The dream was real, then?” he said. He looked at Anita. “You came to me—a week ago—in the middle of the night. You told me the sickness in Faerie wasn’t my fault. I thought I’d dreamed the whole thing. But it seemed real. Was it real?”

“I don’t know, Dad,” said Anita. “I don’t remember.”

Mr. Palmer looked sharply at Edric. “We had nothing to do with the illness in Faerie? Is that right?”

“It is, sir,” said Edric, gazing steadily into Clive Palmer’s eyes. “And I’m sorry for the part I played in blaming you. I hope you can forgive me.”

Mr. Palmer looked away.

Rathina’s voice broke the awkward silence. “I’d lay my sweet sister down, if a bed can be found for her,” she said, her arm still around Zara’s waist. “Mayhap sleep will restore her to us more fully. She has come to us from so very far away.”

Anita’s mother looked into Zara’s blank face. “Your sister, you say, Rathina? I’ve not met her, but I’ve seen pictures of her—portraits—on the walls in the Royal Palace. Is this
Zara
?”

“It is,” said Rathina.

“But I thought . . . I was told she died.”

“Indeed she did, Mistress Mary, and only the wise and watchful spirits know how she has come back to us,” said Rathina. “A bed? If you please?”

“Yes. Of course.” She moved to the foot of the stairs. “Will she be able to climb the stairs?”

“I believe so.”

“Then she can lie down in Anita’s room.”

Zara turned her head from side to side, gazing into their faces but hardly seeming to see them as Rathina and Mrs. Palmer began slowly to climb the stairs, guiding her between them.

Jade was standing in the hall with her back to the front door, her arms folded, and a look on her face of bemused acceptance.

“Okay,” she said, looking from Edric to Anita’s father. “I hope you’ve noticed how well I’m handling all this craziness. But before my brain melts, I’d really like someone to bring me up to speed on what the heck is going on here.”

“Yes, we should do that,” said Edric. “Talking about it might help Tania to remember.”

“Come through into the kitchen,” said Mr. Palmer. “I don’t know about you all, but I could do with a cup of tea. A strong one.” He put his arm about Anita’s shoulders. “Come on,
Anita
, let’s put the kettle on.”

“And so at the last, on the far western coast of Hy Brassail, Master Connor’s duplicity was laid bare,” said Rathina. “He was revealed as the traitor in our midst; all the time he had been leading our enemy to us across those wide and strange lands.” Her face contracted in anger. “Lord Balor’s minions came upon us, and although we fought them, we were subdued. A blow to my head rendered me senseless.”

“We woke in a cave above the beach,” Edric continued. “We were tied up, but Rathina’s sword was there, and we managed to cut ourselves free. We came out of the cave, expecting to have to fight for our lives, but Balor lay dead on the beach—his body torn to ribbons.” He looked at Anita. “Connor was lying nearby. He had been knocked out. There was no sign of Tania.”

Anita gazed into his face.
When I went to bed last night, I was Anita and he was Evan. But now he’s Edric and I’m . . . ? Who am I? What am I? And what is he? Not even human—not really. Immortal? What does that mean? I wish I could remember something. I’d give anything to remember.

“To our astonishment, the only wakeful creature on that wide beach was the Great Salamander, deadly servant of the evil brigand Balor,” said Rathina, picking up the story. “I lifted my sword, expecting the beast to attack us. But it made no move. ‘Do not fear me,’ it said, and it had a voice that rumbled and hissed most ferociously. ‘I do not fear you!’ I declared. ‘As you shall learn swift enough if you do not tell us what has become of my sister. Speak the truth, monster,’ I said. ‘Where is the princess Tania? If you have devoured her, you shall die upon this moment!’ And the monster spoke again. ‘Princess Tania has flown to the land of Tirnanog that lies in the western skies,’ it said. ‘She is unhurt. She is with the Divine Harper.’ And so saying, it turned its long head westward into the sunset. ‘Have patience, she will return.’”

They were gathered at the kitchen table: Rathina, Edric, Jade, Mrs. Palmer, and Anita. She was clinging to her mother’s hand as Edric and Rathina spoke. Her father was moving around the table, placing cups of tea in front of everyone.

“And we waited,” said Edric. “But Tania never came back. Then, just as the sun set, we heard thunder and lightning and a noise like a rough sea—but we didn’t
see
anything. The ocean was calm and there was hardly a cloud in the sky. Rathina asked the Salamander if it knew what was happening.”

Rathina broke in. “‘Great and portentous events!’ the beast declared. ‘I know not what it betokens, but the sounds that you hear issue from the airy land of Tirnanog. A storm rages there.’”

“A storm . . .” murmured Anita, touching her hand to her forehead. A stream of images had glimmered for a moment in her mind. A beach of golden sand. A long white stone. A harp. An old man with apple cheeks and gray hair and beard. And there was music—discordant music that blended with lightning, clouds, and crashing waves.

“Do you remember?” asked Edric, leaning eagerly toward her across the table.

“Something . . . just pictures in my head. I don’t know what they mean.”

“And as the unseen storm raged in our ears, so Master Connor came suddenly awake,” said Rathina. “Wild-eyed and terrified. He jumped to his feet as though fey with madness. ‘Traitor!’ I called him, lifting my sword and prepared to smite him to the heart for the wrong he had done to us. But my blow never fell. For he screamed and writhed and fell upon the ground as though beset by demons. It was a fearful thing to see, forsooth!”

“There was a moment when he seemed to be out of pain,” said Edric. “He looked up at us and he said, ‘Who are you? Where am I?’”

“And then he was gone!” said Rathina, spreading her hands. “Like rain upon a hot stone. Quite vanished away!” She frowned. “Banished, I trust, to some deadly place where he will do penance for all eternity!”

“He’s here,” said Anita breathlessly. “He’s in London.”

Rathina sprang up, knocking against the table, rattling the cups and spilling tea. “Then lead me to him, sister—and I’ll split him throat to vitals for his perfidy!”

“He doesn’t remember anything,” said Anita, looking up at Rathina. “He told me the last thing he remembers is the two of us going to his flat. Then it’s all blank till he woke up this morning.”

“Lies to mask his deceits, I’ll warrant!” said Rathina as Mr. Palmer took a cloth to wipe up the splashes of tea.

“Not necessarily,” said Edric. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence that neither Tania nor Connor remembers anything about Faerie. I’d guess that whatever power destroyed Tania’s memory and sent her here did exactly the same to Connor.”

“The Divine Harper, you mean?” said Mrs. Palmer.

“Who else?” asked Edric. “He locked up all their memories of Faerie and then sent them back into their own world.”

“A strange and uncanny creature he must be,” muttered Rathina, “dwelling in the clouds and dispensing a form of justice beyond my ken. Was Tania punished for seeking his help? Is that what happened in Tirnanog?”

“I don’t think so,” said Edric. “The Divine Harper seeks balance in all things. You give something to get something.” He looked urgently at Anita. “I’m sure if we can find a way to get Tania to remember who she is, the memory of what the Divine Harper told her will be there as well.”

“Excuse me,” broke in Mr. Palmer, dropping the cloth into the sink, “but I think my daughter already knows who she is.”

Mrs. Palmer looked uneasy. Rathina frowned at him. “Indeed she does not, Master Clive—all her Faerie self slumbers.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear it,” said Anita’s father, looking from Rathina to Edric. “I’d like it to stay that way. So, whatever conjuring tricks you’re thinking of using on my daughter, I’d prefer that you leave her be.” His voice trembled with suppressed anger. “Hasn’t she done enough for you . . .
people
?” He stabbed a finger at Edric. “You! You’re supposed to love her. Well, show it! She was a happy, normal girl till you turned up.”

“Clive . . . ?” Mary Palmer’s voice was quiet but firm. “I don’t think it’s as simple as that.”

His face pleaded. “We’ve got her back. How can you want her to go through all that chaos and heartbreak again?”

“I don’t,” said Mrs. Palmer. “But she’s needed. A baby virtually died in my arms, Clive—a little baby. And more people are dying now. If Tania can help, we can’t stand in the way. How could we live with ourselves?”

“And how do we know she hasn’t already done what she set out to do?” asked Mr. Palmer. “How do we know this Harper didn’t grant her wishes and put an end to the illness?”

“We cannot know that for sure, Master Clive,” said Rathina. “Not unless we can return to Faerie—and that we cannot do without Tania. Only she has the gift of walking between the worlds.”

“Uh, excuse me!” Jade raised a tentative hand. “I know I’m the newcomer here, but Evan . . . I mean Edric—Edric found a way to get from Faerie to here, didn’t he? Why can’t he do the same thing backward and go take a look in Faerie?”

“It doesn’t work like that,” said Edric. “I was able to get here because I was focusing on Tania, on being with her, on our feelings for each other. That’s what pulled me through. And even then I needed the Salamander’s help. There’s no way I can punch through back into Faerie.”

“And ’tis worse by far than that!” added Rathina solemnly. “For the ways between the worlds have been sealed by the Conclave of Earls. Even were Tania in her right mind, I fear she could not get through by merely sidestepping. Not from here. We would need to travel from this place and find a land where the power of the Faerie lords does not hold sway. And from there, once we had passed from this world to our own, we would need to take a ship to return to our home.” She frowned. “Days and weeks could be squandered in such an endeavor!”

“You are not taking my daughter on a wild-goose chase to another country,” declared Clive Palmer. “This nonsense stops here.” He pointed a shaking finger from Edric to Rathina. “I want you out of my house!” he said. “You’re not welcome here!”

“You would condemn all of Faerie to despair?” Rathina gasped.

“To save my daughter? Yes, I would!”

“No, Dad!” It made Anita’s heart ache to see how this was affecting her father. He turned to her, his face full of fear. “I don’t want that. I have to help if I can!”

He stared at her, then fumbled for the back door, walking unsteadily out into the garden.

“I should go to him,” said Mrs. Palmer. She looked from Edric to Rathina. “He’s still not completely well,” she said. “This has been a great strain on him. He doesn’t mean to belittle your problems—he’s only thinking of Anita.”

Anita got up from the table. “I’ll go be with him,” she said to her mother. “Stay here, please.”

“I’ll make some more tea,” her mother said with a nod.

Anita walked to the open back door. Her father was down by the rosebush, his shoulders slumped.

“Jade? Does your mum know you’re here?” she heard her mother say.

“Not exactly, Mrs. P,” Jade replied. “I kind of skipped out before she got home. The lily pond got wrecked. I need time to come up with a plausible explanation for what happened. Don’t worry about it—it’ll be fine.”

The voices faded out of Anita’s consciousness. She could think only about her father now. She stepped into the garden and walked toward him.