Nettle Blackthorn and the Three Wicked Sisters (29 page)

He drew back and eyed her keenly.
“You smell like cinnamon.”

For some
reason, it didn’t sound like a compliment. She leapt to her feet,
her cheeks flushing an even deeper shade of red. “What the hell
does that mean?”

He ignored her
question and asked instead, “What were you doing up there?”

“
Following you,” she answered, crossing her arms over her
chest defiantly.

“You were following me?” The way he said it, the way he
looked at her with his arrogant smirk and that glint in his eye,
was mortifying, as if he was accusing her of liking him.
This is
ridiculous,
she scolded herself,
why am I putting up with this again?
She popped a hand
on her hip, like Jazz did when she was dishing out attitude. “I
followed you OK. I wanted to give you a piece of my mind. You were
so rude and nasty and mean-”

His gaze
narrowed. Then, he snapped his fingers. “That’s who you are, the
girl who knocked into me. Thought you looked familiar.” He leaned
back slouching against the seat, an arm casually slung along the
back of the chair, pleased with himself.

Nettle’s murky eyes lightened to sage-green as her rage
built. She paced in front of him, stabbing her finger his way. “You
bowled
me
over! Didn’t even say sorry, or even check to see if I was
all right.”

He shrugged a
shoulder. “You seemed fine to me.”

Nettle
blustered with indignation. “You pushed me over. I fell! I had
scrapes and cuts and bruises, and look here,” she said showing him
her scabbed palms. “You did this!” Her tone hitched and became a
little hysterical, causing a few people close by to turn their way
with curiosity.

The boy lazily got to his feet so he could inspect her
hands with mock concern.
The utter nerve of the guy!
Just as rude as the last time
they’d met,
she told herself,
well more like a hit-and-run
, she amended. “You could at
least apologise.”

Instead the
boy crossed his arms gleefully and rocked back on his heels. He was
thoroughly enjoying goading her. “So you mentioned you wanted to
give me a piece of your mind. Go on then, clearly it’ll make you
feel better.”

Nettle was taken aback. Her train of thought dissipated
like a sprinkling of water over a hot pan.
Huh?
What… was I going to say?
His eyebrows rose
at the length of time she stared blankly at him. “Well I hadn’t
exactly… worked it out.”

“
Right,” he drawled and turned to leave.

“Well,”
she said flustered. “I was working it out in my head when I
followed you up the hill. Then, well… how was I to know some giant
wielding a sword was going to come after me.” She flung her arms
upward. “I mean, what was that all about? Who runs about with a
sword and dog on steroids?!”

He
suddenly grabbed her arm and dragged her close. She noticed his
nose had a large bump on the bridge where it had been broken and
was only slightly curved out of place. He glared at her. “Hush,
keep it down.” And then furtively glanced over his shoulder. Nettle
glared right back and struggled to free her arm, but his grip was
too tight.

“
All right,” she whispered harshly. Her dark expression
matched his infuriated one. “Message received.” He let go of her
arm. Nettle wanted answers. “What was that man doing? He was
guarding that cave, wasn’t he? What’s so important in there? What
was in that brown paper parcel?”

The boy leaned
close so only she could hear. “Do yourself a favour and don’t
concern yourself with the goings on in Olde Town.” He turned to
leave but this time it was her fingers that gripped his arm
stopping him.

Nettle
persisted with a frown. “Why? What’s going on?”

He gave her a
hard stare, then made up his mind about something and his
expression eased slightly. For a moment, he actually looked quite
pleasant, Nettle decided. Then he said, “Just forget about it all.
Forget everything that happened up on that hill.” And he flicked
her forehead with a fingertip.

Nettle blinked several times, completely caught off
guard.
Did
he just..?
She tilted her head slightly giving him a perplexed
look.

His own gaze
narrowed and he angled his head so that he looked at her side-ways.
They stared at one another like that for a moment longer before he
flicked her forehead once more and said a little slower, “Forget it
all.”

Nettle rubbed the spot where it stung and flung a dark look
at him, her lips pinching together in anger.
What on earth does he think
he’s doing?

The boy began
to shift his feet, seemingly unsure of himself. He went to flick
her a third time when she swatted at his hands. “Hey, listen up.
Stop that will you!”

He recoiled,
his own expression confounded. He wore the expression
uncomfortably, as if he’d not experienced bewilderment too often.
“Stop what?”

“
Flicking me and telling me to forget.” She swiped at him
again. “As if I’m going to forget a 500 pound giant. Seriously, who
do you think you are, some kind of Jedi-Master.”

The boy didn’t respond, his eyes grew big and round and he
just stared at her. She hadn’t noticed before how smooth and milky
his skin was, or that charcoal lashes thickly framed his violet
eyes.
And
he’s still staring at me.
She squirmed uncomfortably under his intense
gaze.
What
on earth is he looking at?
Is there something on my face?
His finger came up and she
shied away from him. But he was simply pointing it her way. Finally
he answered, in a distant manner. “You’re no tourist.”

Nettle rolled her eyes,
duh.
“Of course I’m not.”

He jerked at
the waspishness in her tone, which seemed to shatter his
bewilderment. He was about to retort, his features contorting into
a sneer, when the ground beneath their feet, began to tremble.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Earthquake!

At
first, the slight movement of the ground went unnoticed. Then, as
Nettle and the boy with the broken nose squared off against one
another, the earth began to tremble, distracting them both from
their argument. Nearby a large terracotta pot jostled, its bushy
olive shrub shimmying with the building vibrations; above, the
View-Point sign swung violently, its rusted hinges squeaking, and
things started crashing to the ground from the picnic
tables.

Someone
yelled, “EARTHQUAKE!” A child screamed, while a few toddlers broke
into wailing sobs. Parents cried out for their children.

A moment later
an explosive shudder almost shook Nettle from her feet, the
cobblestones rattling beneath her. She grabbed hold of the closest
thing to steady herself, which just happened to be the quarrelsome
boy. His velvet jacket felt as silky-soft as she’d imagined and
when he took hold of her hand, his fingers covering hers to steady
her balance, she glanced up. A heart-beat later she realised he was
grinning at her with his infuriating smirk. Nettle’s mouth pressed
together thinly and she shoved herself away from him.

Bram!
Out here in the open it was relatively safe, but Bram
wasn’t. He was in a three story building, hundreds of years old,
and she had no idea if it could withstand a violent
earthquake.
Terror seized hold of her, her thoughts overtaken by images
of ceiling collapses, dust clogging lungs, and digging through
rubble.
I
have to get to Bram!

The noise the earthquake made was deafening. Buildings
creaked and groaned
. Stone scraped and shifted. The rumbling of the very hill,
thunderous. Nettle unsteadily made her way toward the path. It was
nearly impossible to run in a straight line. She wove her way past
terrified parents scrabbling for their children - unmindful of the
mess now on the ground - cutlery and crockery, cameras and
handbags, splattered food and drink.

The confrontation with the boy with the strange violet eyes
was completely forgotten as Nettle pounded down the winding pathway
as fast as she was able, passing folk who either pressed themselves
against the path’s barrier or had completely came to a standstill,
frozen with fear. She had no thought for herself, only for
Bram.
Please
let him be safe, please let him be safe...

She’d almost
reached the Three Wicked Sisters’ when the shaking subsided and the
tremors dissipated completely, leaving in its wake an eerie silence
perforated with the soft sound of sobbing, and gentle hushes from
mothers.

Inside
the tea house, it wasn’t as bad as what her mind had pictured. The
quake had littered the floor with broken glass and dishes, and
tumbled paintings and candles from their scones. There was so much
food splattered at the feet of the stunned patrons that hadn’t
fled, it was like they’d participated in a food fight. The ceiling
had luckily held and no-one was injured that she could see. Though
the sight was welcome and she let out a pent-up breath, she
couldn’t completely relax until she had Bram in her
sight.

Liquid had
sloshed from the cauldron, dirtying the floor with its dark brown
slop and gelatinous contents. Pip was on his hands and knees
mopping up the mess. He wrung the liquid into a bucket and sluiced
fresh water over the floorboards. Nettle edged around him and the
slippery floor, her nose crinkling at its unpleasant odour, pushing
her way through the throng, frantically searching for a golden
head.

“Bram?!”
she yelled over the hum of frightened chatter. “BRAM?!”

A hand popped
up. “Nettle, over here!” While she’d been away, he’d been moved to
the table by the bay window.

Relief
surged through her, he was fine, in fact judging by the wide grin
on his face, he’d just experienced something – as Bram would put it
– fantastic!

Bram skittered about with excitement. “Wow, did you feel
that? It was enormous!” He threw his arms into the air. “The whole
tea house went BOOM! Then everything shook, and people screamed,
and glasses smashed, and then people started running for the door
-
oooff-
”

Nettle lurched
into him and hugged him tightly.

“Ugh,
leave off. ” Her brother grimaced, twisting himself half
free to give her a funny look. “What’s up with you?”

Nettle held on
tightly, thankful he was unharmed. “Nothing. I’m just glad you’re
alright.”

“Oh, okay,” he drawled in that way that said he thought she
was being
girl-weird
. “You know, you didn’t need to worry. I knew what to do. I
got under the table and held it down.” He tried to look serious,
but couldn’t keep the grin from returning. “But boy, did we bounce
around!”

Nettle brushed
his long hair from his forehead and gave him a lopsided grin. She
supposed, after the encounter at the top of the summit and then the
earthquake, she’d been unnerved more than she realized. She let go
of him a little reluctantly.

The tea
house’s staff were efficiently tidying up while Margot and Dolcie
allayed the fears of their customers. And while visitors were
gathered in worried clusters, or had run outside, others milled
about the entrance. Some were visibly shaken, while the majority of
townsfolk appeared calm and somewhat relaxed, tending to the needs
of their visitors.

“
5.4? 4.8?” Bram pondered. He was tapping a finger against his
bottom lip like their father did when he was deep in contemplation,
and she felt a sudden pang of loss for her absent father. Bram
turned to her. “Wonder where the epicentre was? Close by, you
think?”

Nettle
shook her head, she had no idea. Sunlight glinting off crystal
showered the wall with shards of bright white light and caught her
eye. The chandelier with its orbs and spider-web crystals had been
shook free from one of its hooks. It swung crookedly, dangling low.
Pippa had climbed a ladder to carefully hold it aloft, while her
companion, a few steps higher, hooked it back into
place.

On another ladder nearby, Pipi was replacing the orb above
the table where Nettle had earlier sat when the bulb had
blown.
What
was it that Claudine had said,
she thought hard,
full?
She wondered at the comment, when
Claudine entered
the tea house, her blue eyes widening at the carnage. She was at
their side in a matter of seconds. “Are you two
alright?”

“
We’re fine,” Nettle assured her, secretly pleased to be at
the top of Claudine’s list of priorities.

Claudine
pressed her hands to her chest, her girlish voice a little
lost-sounding. “Oh my, that was a bit of a shudder.”

Nettle’s
eyebrow’s rose at her description of the earthquake. “Shudder’s
rather an understatement.”

Claudine
anxiously cast a glance about the tea house. Her sisters and the
staff were making excellent progress with cleaning up and had begun
reseating most of their customers. “We’ve had a few shakes recently
but they were nothing much. Nothing like this.” As she shook her
head, mystified, her hair tied in its usual low-sided ponytail
swayed.

“
This was big,” confirmed Bram. “Really big.”