Just Believe (20 page)

"Annabelle, do you remember when you
were a young girl," he started, "maybe, twelve or thirteen or so,
you heard a ruckus in the back yard in the tool shed? You went out
there. Do you remember seeing something?" His pause was full of
uncertainty she could actually feel. "Something
unusual?"

"How do you know about
that?"

"Just tell me what you remember
seeing."

"I can't talk about that now,
Gaelen."

"Please, darlin', remember and tell
me."

Spurred by the urgency of his voice,
she pulled up the memory, trying to see the fantastic vision
again.

"I saw a boy, maybe five or so years
older than me. He was crouched in the corner of the shed." She felt
her blush zoom up her face. "He was, ah, naked."

Did Gaelen blush, too?

"Yes. What else did you see? What was
there out of the ordinary?"

In a flash, the picture appeared in her
mind. The handsome boy with wheat-gold hair and eyes as blue as the
sky. He grimaced as though in pain. Behind him, spreading wide and
tall, maybe three feet higher than the top of his head. Iridescent,
twinkling, with transparent tissue, the colors changing. They
twitched, just like...

"Wings."

"Aye, love, wings." He reached for her
hands. "Do you remember thinking it wasn't real?"

She'd forgotten that part. It did seem
like a dream, like a memory you couldn't trust.

"How do you know that?" she asked
again.

Again he dodged the question. "Tell me.
What happened to the boy when you thought he wasn't
real?"

The picture again flashed into her
head. The boy bent over, a grimace marring the perfection of his
features.

Believe. Please, believe.

The boy's words had shocked her. And
she'd been certain then that he was indeed real. She'd forgotten
about his nakedness and went to him, offering him help, which he
accepted gratefully.

"You believed. You saved him because
you believed." He knelt down by her chair, setting his knuckles
under her chin, tipping her face up to meet his gaze. "You saved
me, Annabelle. That boy was me."

"It was you?" She knew it was the
truth. "You were in pain," she said simply.

With a nod, Gaelen said, "It doesn't
matter now. You did me a kindness that night. I never got a chance
to thank you." He raised her hands to his lips, kissing each in
turn, first the backs, then the palms. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she
whispered.

"I owe you a great debt, Annabelle. My
kind never forget a kindness."

"You don't owe me--"

He placed his finger over her lips.
"Shhh. But I must ask you for another favor first. Annabelle, what
I'm about to tell you, you must promise me you'll believe with your
whole heart. You must promise you will never, ever divulge to any
living person what you are about to learn, nor what you will see in
the days to come."

Her dread grew greater. "What's going
on, Gaelen? Lucas hinted at some terrible things and secrets and
danger. Danger to Erin." She grabbed his sleeve. "You tell me right
now."

"I must have your promise. Everything
depends on it. You will never divulge--"

"I promise!" she cut in. "Tell
me."

"You'll believe?"

"I said I promise--"

He grabbed her shoulders and shook her
hard. "I'll not tell you a word until I know you understand how
serious I am. My existence, the existence of my people, depends on
it. You must believe."

He frightened her then, the intensity
of his stare, his strong fingers digging into her shoulders, the
way his voice trembled.

"I believe. I promise I will
believe."

Gaelen relaxed his grip and leaned back
on his heels. "I'm sorry, love. Did I hurt you?"

"No," she lied. "Tell me," she said.
This time it was a plea, not a demand.

With a single nod, he rose. She noticed
he kept his eyes averted from Erin, the fleeting glimpse of disgust
she'd seen before appeared again, only to disappear so quickly she
wasn't sure yet if she'd really seen it.

"This isn't Erin," he said.

Annabelle's eyes flicked between his
face and Erin's. "What? Of course it is."

"No, dearest, it isn't. They've taken
Erin."

"Who? The aliens?" she asked
sarcastically.

Gaelen's chuckle bore no humor. "Not
like you mean." He reached into his pocket and pulled a crystal
bottle from his jacket pocket. "Here, let me put some of this on
your eye."

Annabelle instinctively recoiled. "What
is it?"

He smiled wryly. "I'll tell you after
you see what it does." He cocked his head at a questioning angle.
"Remember, you promised..." Leaving his reminder hanging, he raised
one hand, index finger extended and on the tip, a tiny drop of an
ointment.

She nodded and turned toward him,
sitting very still. Gaelen bent over and gently laid his finger on
the inside of her right eye, next to her nose, letting the ointment
flow in.

"Blink," he ordered.

She did, and a soothing, cool film
crossed her eye, from inside to outside.

Gaelen set his hands on the sides of
her head, blocking her view of the bed and her sister.

"Now. You don't strike me as a
flighty-headed girl. But what you're about to see will frighten
you. You must not scream or cry out. Do you understand?"

"Gaelen, this is getting very
scary."

"I know, dearest, but this is the worst
part, I promise. After this, you'll have the adventure of your
life." He smiled and caressed her cheek, running his fingers
through her hair. "Ready?"

"No," she said with a little laugh,
reassured by his smile. "You're sure this is the worst?"

He seemed to think about it before
answering. "I hope so, dearest."

"You promised."

"Aye, that I did. Then I promise again.
This is the worst part."

"All right. I'm ready."

"Look at the bed again."

He'd made such a production of the
whole thing that she was truly terrified. Then she chided herself
for her fear. What could be so awful? It was Erin.

Wasn't it?

Gaelen said it wasn't.

Annabelle gathered her courage and
turned her gaze leftward, back to the bed.

Her left eye saw first. Erin lying
still and quiet as death.

Then she turned her head all the way
around. With her right eye--the one Gaelen had put the ointment
in--where she expected to see Erin, just like she did with the
left...

A gasp escaped her. She jumped up,
shoving the chair backward to fall over with a scrape of plastic
and metal. A scream blossomed in the back of her throat, and she
clamped her hands over her mouth to hold it in.

The door opened. A nurse stuck her head
in.

"Ms. Tinker? Is there anything
wrong?"

Gaelen ducked behind the bathroom door,
his gaze telling Annabelle to say something clever.

She couldn't even think for the terror
crowding out everything else in her head. She looked to Gaelen for
help.

He rested his head on his joined hands,
closing his eyes. Sleep.

An embarrassed giggle escaped her. "I'm
so sorry. I must have drifted off to sleep and had a nightmare. I
hope I didn't disturb anyone else?"

"No. That's fine. Visiting hours are
over, you know. I'll have to ask you to leave."

"Certainly. I'll just get my
things."

The nurse smiled in understanding.
"We'll call you if there's a change."

"Thank you," Annabelle said, making a
big show of gathering her jacket and purse.

Gaelen waited until the door closed
behind the nurse to come out of the bathroom.

Avoiding the thing in Erin's bed,
Annabelle stared hard into his eyes. "What's going on here,
Gaelen?"

"Come on, we'll go where we can talk."
He took her by the hand and dragged her from the room.

Neither of them looked back at the
bed.

Chapter Fourteen

He drove her to his small house on the
outskirts of town. It sat in a pricey neighborhood lined on both
sides with modern, space-efficient, identical houses, sided in gray
timber to give them a weathered look that fooled no one.

Her first thought was Gaelen didn't
belong here.

He escorted her into his home with a
warm grip on her elbow. Without a word, he put a kettle to boil on
the countertop electric stove in the immaculate kitchen. She pulled
out a stool from the table height kitchen bar and watched him take
a ceramic teapot and a tin of loose tea from the
cupboard.

Gaelen's eyes didn't meet hers all the
while he moved around the kitchen, his large frame dwarfing the
small appliances. When the water boiled, he poured a little into
the pot, swirled it around, then dropped in four spoons of tea.
After filling the pot with boiling water, he stirred four
times--she watched him count--counterclockwise.

"Quite a ritual," she said softly, to
break the silence more than anything else.

He smiled, finally looking into her
eyes. "Aye. If it's worth doing..." His grin spread wider, taking
in his whole face.

He pulled a white, orange and green
knitted cozy over the pot, then took a seat across the kitchen bar
from her. While the tea steeped, they sat in renewed silence. The
tea filled the air with a scent of comfort, warm and
soothing.

"It's a long story, you know," he
began. "Long, long."

"Tell me."

He glanced at her with a twinkle in his
eye. "Aye, lass, I will. Tea first, though." Turning away from her,
he got cups and saucers and spoons and an unopened package of Girl
Scout shortbread cookies. "My neighbor sells them for his
daughter," he explained. "I feel obliged."

"You don't have to explain. I love
them," Annabelle replied, happy for any conversation, even banal
conversation. She took one of the trademarked shapes and bit off
the top leaf of the stylized three-leaf clover.

Gaelen held one up in front of his
face, almost like a blessing, and he laughed.

"What's so funny?"

Shaking his head, he poured milk into
the cups then strained the tea in. He set the cup and saucer before
her.

"Why are you stalling?" she
asked.

After placing the sugar bowl within her
reach, he sighed.

"Because I'm frightened." He stirred
his tea and she waited. She wasn't sure she wanted to push him to
go on.

"There's nothing for it, though," he
finally said. "We don't have much time and here I am wastin' it."
He set the spoon down, then lifted up his cup, downing the whole
cup at once.

Annabelle did the same, in spite of the
fact it was still scalding and even though she loathed
tea.

Gaelen drew in a large breath and
poured them both another cup. Then he began.

"What is in Erin's bed at the hospital
is a fairy changeling." He snorted in derision. "And not a very
good one at that."

Remembering his warning that she had to
believe, Annabelle squashed an urge to giggle at the idea. Instead
she asked, "A changeling? What's that?"

"It's a very old, very effective trick.
For centuries, when fairies needed a mortal for some reason, say,
as a wet-nurse for a fairy infant, or maybe just because a child
was particularly lovely, a substitute would be placed in the
mortal's crib or bed, and the real mortal would be taken to
Faerie."

"What kind of substitute? What I saw
was a piece of wood."

He nodded. "Yes, beech, I believe.
Beech makes the very best stock for a changeling. In the old days,
sometimes a sick fairy child or a grumpy old one was put in the
mortal's place."

Annabelle knew she was staring, her
mouth hanging open, disbelief painted across her face, but she
didn't dare express it. Something in Gaelen's fervent demand that
she had to promise to believe made her stay quiet, pushing the
questions away.

Gaelen glanced at her. She saw lines
appear at the corners of his eyes and his lips tighten.

"Do you believe?"

"Yes," she answered.

He drew a breath. It seemed to her to
be shaky.

"Here goes," he whispered. Annabelle
was certain his words weren't meant for her. Then he turned to her.
"Annabelle, Lucas and I...we're not...like you. We're not
mortal."

He watched her, seeking a reaction. She
could almost hear him asking her again.

Do you believe?

She nodded, in answer to his silent
question.

"I'm a fairy."

* * * *