Into the Wildewood (2 page)

According to her forbidden timepiece, it was just after midnight. Zeke, her dad, had left at ten to see Sir Davey and show him the way to the rock and gem shop’s new location. Sir Davey had just arrived in his mammoth Winnebago, and was parked in the motor home section of the campground. It would be great if they could stay in his RV. She’d have to sleep on the pull-out sofa, of course, but she’d heard that Davey’s RV had a real bathroom in it. A hot shower sounded fabulous, not to mention going to the bathroom without crossing the entire campground. Maybe if she stayed in Sir Davey’s “cavern on wheels” she’d sleep peacefully—without sensing trees and having magic tingle through her body.

Dad had promised Keelie her own room in their supposedly beautiful tent. She hadn’t seen it yet, since it had been too wet to set it up. The tent was stashed in his shop, along with the furniture he’d shipped here to sell.

He was late. May he’d gotten so busy that he’d forgotten her, or some tree had distracted him. Or worse, some woman. Dad was a babe magnet, and Keelie didn’t want to share him with anyone now that she’d rediscovered him.

She needed to replace her destroyed cell phone. She didn’t want to use Dad’s, a small wooden rectangular box that he used to call other elves. The one time she’d tried to use it to call Sean at the Florida Ren Faire, she’d ended up telepathically linked to a spruce tree in Alberta, Canada.

After that, she tried talking Dad into buying her an iPhone. Mom had used a BlackBerry, which Dad might have been interested in because it sounded so natural and earthy, but none of her friends would be caught dead with one.

Mom. Keelie sniffled, wishing for lightning, thunder, some kind of weather drama. The plain old rain was making her maudlin, reminding her that her mother had only died three months ago. Not that she was over feeling sad; on the contrary, lately she’d been weeping over every little thing. She thought she’d gotten used to being without Mom, and to life without malls, friends from private school, tennis lessons, and the beach. Maybe she just needed to stay busy, to postpone the worst of her grief.

She missed Ariel, too. Keelie had bonded with the blind hawk that she had cared for in Colorado. Cameron, the birds-of-prey expert from the High Mountain Faire, had taken Ariel to a specialized rehab facility in Pennsylvania. No vet could help the bird. Ariel suffered from an elven curse, and so far no one had been able to break it.

Another loud “Hey nonny!” interrupted her thoughts. Keelie covered her ears to muffle the men’s singing, but it was no use. They were bellowing so loud that the townies could probably hear it.

“I put her forthwith over my knee

And the naughty wench began to plea,

A little harder, master, pleeeaaaase
…
”

Keelie put her pillow over her head. It didn’t sound likely that the Merry Men would get depressed and go to bed.

Something smacked the side of the trailer. She imagined her dad’s hand holding on to the wall, injured, trying to find help and unable to reach the door. She held up her glowing quartz crystal. It shone brighter, and little rays of prismatic pink flashed around the room.

Ridiculous.
But the image of her hurt dad lingered. Keelie pushed away the light blanket that covered her and sat up, leaving the bunk to open the door. Fat raindrops pattered on the ground beyond the wood-gingerbread encrusted overhang. The rain gleamed in the darkness, illuminated by lights from the Merry Men’s tent. Out here, she could also hear feminine laughter coming from it, along with the deeper rumble of male voices. She wasn’t going to look.

A Budweiser can gleamed in the light from the tent opening. No doubt this was the source of the thump on the wall. The morons in the tent had heaved an empty can out their tent door. It wasn’t even period ale, as if she cared. She sighed. No Dad. Just a bunch of late revelers. She was tempted to disobey Dad and join them, but he’d have a fit if she did.

She’d gone with Raven to one of the infamous tent parties at the other Faire. For Keelie, that party had been an eye-opener. Bottles of mead, a strong, honey-flavored wine, had been passed from person to person, followed by a shared cigarette that she knew wasn’t tobacco. And the guys who played the pirates at the Faire had been there. They were every bit as handsome as the jousting knights, but they took their rascally personas too seriously. Raven had danced for them, and one of the pirates had taken advantage of Raven’s distraction to sit close to Keelie. It had been fun, and scary, and exciting. But when Raven saw that the man had started feeling her up, she stopped dancing and got her out of there, at least without making a scene. Keelie appreciated that, and now knew that she wasn’t about to attend a tent party alone. Not that she’d want to go to this one.

Earlier, Keelie had overheard some of the Merry Men say that the Rivendell party area was quiet now, but that’s where the action would be once the Faire opened. The jousters kept the horses corralled in the meadow next to their tents, the section jokingly named Rivendell by some insider who knew that most jousters were elves. Jousters. She had a soft spot in her heart for one in particular—Sean. Her heart fluttered when she recalled their kiss. But her chest tightened when she remembered that Sean hadn’t called since their departure. He’d promised he would.

Keelie needed to talk to Raven. But Raven wasn’t here, and she was stuck at this Faire with no phone. She couldn’t even escape and find one, because she didn’t have a driver’s license. This was another sore point. Dad hadn’t given her any driving lessons, and was always making excuses whenever she approached him about it.

Something moved in the forest behind the tents. Holding up the rose quartz crystal like a lantern, Keelie squinted, but saw nothing. She was about to step back and close the door when the shadow stepped out of the forest. It was a horse, although not big and brawny like the jousters’ mounts. Maybe it was an Arabian. His white coat gleamed brightly, even in the darkness and deep shadows of the woods. It was probably one of the trick horses, the swift ponies that performed clever tricks in between jousts. Maybe he had broken free from the meadow.

Someone was going to be in big trouble for letting it get loose from the Rivendell corral. Keelie wasn’t about to get soaked trying to catch it, either. The roads around the Faire were far from busy, so what trouble could the horse get into? It would be safe enough until morning.

The trees began to sway, although there wasn’t any wind. Then Keelie felt green whispers trying to form in her mind. The rose quartz grew warm against her palm, and magic washed over her. Her hand tingled as the protective stone grew brighter and brighter. Suddenly, the light disappeared, and the night was black once more. As Keelie’s senses dissolved into spiraling green energy, even the sounds from the Merry Men’s tent disappeared. She was alone with the trees.

A heartbeat later, a single beam of pink light, like a laser, shot from the rose quartz. It reached across, turning into a bright silver glow that surrounded a slender spiral horn on the horse’s head. Then the horse turned sharply and ran into the woods, the glowing horn still visible.

Heart pounding, Keelie realized what she had seen. Oh. My. God. Adrenaline rushed through her body. The muscles in her legs tightened. Poised. Ready. She took a step toward the woods.

But, overcome with an overwhelming anxiety that screamed
danger
, she found that she couldn’t move. Something magical was forcing her to stay in place, rooted to the ground. The scent of cinnamon surrounded her.

A minute later, that’s where Dad found her, holding the rose quartz aloft and still staring blankly into the indigo shadows.

two

“A unicorn,” her father repeated, his eyes wide as he leaned back against the soft cushions on Sir Davey’s sofa, a bottle of mead in his hand. “The guardian of the forest. I’ve never seen it here in Wildewood. I’d heard rumors from the human girls who claimed to have seen it. Are you sure?”

“I saw it.” Keelie shivered, although it was warm in Sir Davey’s RV, and the stone walls blocked the trees just as she’d hoped. She’d seen a unicorn. She was awed. The thought echoed in her head.

Sir Davey poured more tea into her cup. “I believe you, lass. It begs the question, though, why you? Unicorns are powerful beings, and mysterious. You must not wander through the forest alone.”

“Alone? She must not enter the forest at all.” Zeke frowned at his bottle of mead, and then looked down at Keelie sitting on the floor. “As Sir Davey said, we don’t know its purpose in showing itself to you. You’ve just come into your magic. Whatever the creature has in mind, you won’t be able to handle it, not yet.”

“I can’t stay out of the woods. What if the trees call me? I’m a Tree Shepherd, right?” Keelie looked from her father to Sir Davey, who was nodding wisely. “And why is the unicorn dangerous? If it’s the guardian of the forest, don’t we have, like, a shared cause?”

She studied both men. Her father was tall and slim. His long, wheat-colored hair was pulled into a ponytail, covering his pointed ear tips. Sir Davey was dark and handsome, and four feet tall if he stood on tiptoe. When the Faire was open, Davey wore a musketeer costume. The white feather of the musketeer hat always stayed pristine, even around the Muck and Mire show.

Sir Davey cleared his throat. “Traditionally, unicorns show themselves only to—” He blushed. He went back to examining her rose quartz.

“
Virgins.
I get it.” Keelie rolled her eyes. “I’ve read a book or two.”

“What we need to understand is why it showed itself to you.” Sir Davey stroked his short beard.

“Hey, I’m a virgin, just to let you know.” How insulting.

Dad didn’t look at her, but she could see that his shoulders were more relaxed than they were a while ago. The old hypocrite. Until she moved in with him he’d been a real party boy.

“Are we going after it? I want to go after it. I want to see it again.” Keelie’s feet itched to run into the forest.

“No.” Her father slammed his fist on the sofa arm. Keelie was startled by the violent gesture, but recovered quickly. “Why not?” The desire to see the unicorn was almost a physical ache—a yearning she had to fulfill.

Dad sipped his mead, then looked at her. “‘Because I said so’ isn’t going to cut it, is it?”

“No.”

He sighed. “You’re as stubborn as your mother.”

Keelie sat up straighter. “Thank you.”

His lips lifted a little at the corners as if he was trying to suppress a smile, but then he became all serious. “Keelie, unicorns can be good, and they can be self-serving, especially male unicorns once they set their sights on a young female they want.”

“Sounds like some of the Merry Men. Did you hear them whistling at the belly dancers when they walked through the campground yesterday?”

Sir Davey grinned. “I saw them this morning.” He swiveled his hips in imitation.

Dad rolled his eyes. Keelie wondered if the belly dancers had shimmied over to the campground just for Dad’s benefit.

“This is different,” he said. “The unicorn could place an enchantment on you to make you forget your dreams, your family, yourself. It makes you want only to be with it.”

“That’s so narcissistic.”

“Exactly! Stay away from it.”

Easier said than done. Keelie really, really, really wanted to see it again. It had been so beautiful. The way its spiral horn seemed to glow with some source of internal magic. And she wanted …

Dad waved his hand in front of her face. “Your energy field is up. Tell me exactly what happened when you saw the unicorn.”

Keelie leaned back against Sir Davey’s sofa, still somewhat lost in her unicorn musings. “I wanted to run after it.” Her voice seemed far away, even to her own ears. “I would’ve, too, but then I smelled cinnamon. I couldn’t move.”

She blinked and looked up at Dad.

He sighed, almost in relief. “My guess is the unicorn has some form of Dread magic, which he uses to keep humans out of his forest.”

Sir Davey tugged his beard. “Aye, but why would the unicorn run if he was trying to get Keelie to come to him?”

She closed her eyes and the image of the unicorn formed in her mind, his white coat gleaming as if he’d been bathed in moonlight. She couldn’t imagine that anything so lovely could have any connection to the Dread, the potent spell elves used to keep humans away. It was called the Dread because people felt panic building the closer they got to Dread-protected areas. Her brush with it in Colorado had made her want to run away screaming.

She had to find the unicorn. Opening her eyes, Keelie stared directly at Dad, who watched her warily. His forehead was etched with worry lines.

He took another sip of mead. “The unicorn’s already worked his enchantment spell on you.”

“I’d know it if he’d put a spell on me.” Or at least she hoped she would. She really couldn’t see herself forgetting everything and running away into the woods like a lovesick girl chasing after some guy—or in her case, a unicorn.

“She’ll be okay, Zeke. The rose quartz protected her.”

Keelie sighed with relief, although the atmosphere in the room was as heavy as a smoggy Los Angeles afternoon in August. “Hey, look at it like this. Most dads have to worry about their girls dating horny teen boys. You just have to worry about a unicorn.”

Her attempt at humor failed. Dad took another sip of mead. The worry lines deepened on his forehead.

Sir Davey stood up. “If she sleeps here, it should neutralize the unicorn magic for tonight.” He motioned to the stone-clad walls. “And once the sun is up, she’ll be safe enough around humans.” He handed the rose quartz back to Keelie. “Keep this on you at all times. It protected you tonight, and it’ll continue to protect you.”

Dad frowned again, and his voice seemed determined. “As will Knot. He’ll be with you wherever you go.”

“No way, Dad!”

His baleful fatherly glare said there would be no further discussion.

Keelie was glad to see a full-size bed in Sir Davey’s room. Just as she was beginning to nod off, a loud purr came from around her feet, where Knot was curled up. Moonlight streamed through the parted curtains over the window above Sir Davey’s bed, illuminating the cat, his fur stuck up in wet devil points. Strange. A normal cat would have groomed himself, but Keelie wasn’t surprised. Knot was not a normal cat.