Rite of Passage (7 page)

“Robbie?”

“Yes. No. Nothing special. Just some newspaper articles.”

She brightened, accepting my explanation. “Perhaps later?” she asked in a whisper, raising her eyebrows.

“Maybe we can catch up after the dance.”

Courtney bit her lip and looked up at me, face flushed. “I’m not going.” She turned and gave me a wave. “Got to clean up and get dressed for dinner.”

I reached out, grabbing her arm. “Walk me to the garage please.”

She nodded. “All right.”

Seeing no one, I reached for her hand. Our fingers intertwined. Once inside the garage, Courtney closed the door and put her arms around me. She held me briefly then followed me to the large doors that opened onto the gravel drive.

She stood facing me, eyes glistening as she gave me a smile. “Have a good time,” she whispered, reaching up to kiss my cheek. “I’ll be thinking of you.”

“Me, too.” I hesitated, wanting to stay with her. I settled into the Jag, started it, and left the garage. I found myself watching her reflection in the fading sunlight, mystified by what had happened since last night and what I was going to do about it.

Chapter Ten

Courtney watched the taillights of his small roadster disappear in the twilight. But despite her fixation on Robbie, her mind was far away. She possessed many gifts. Both her parents had been powerful witches. Courtney was the most sensitive and perceptive telepath her fellow witches had ever seen. And she’d mastered something even more difficult. Courtney could pick and choose whose thoughts she read. She’d become a high priestess at the tender age of fourteen. Her skills were razor sharp and like Ethwyn, the goddess who’d told of the prophecy and her predecessor from antiquity, those skills had proven flawless.

But for the role she would play in directing mankind away from the violence and cruelty that seemed integral to its makeup, she would need every ounce of skill and intuition. How these manifold intuitive abilities related to one another would be of consummate importance in helping her. Now, these abilities raised an alarm.

At first she thought her surprising attraction to Robert had upset the delicate balance her powers required. But by the time Courtney returned to the estate she knew it was more. Telepathic signals, she’d learned after years of practice and study, resembled radio waves. They could be sent to far-flung destinations with ease one day while sending them across an open field proved impossible on others. It was this eccentric quality of transfer that had kept her from concern for much of the day. She simply couldn’t be sure what she was sensing. By the time Robert drove off for dinner, Courtney’s attraction for him was not the only thing bothering her.

A deep evil invaded her thoughts, something so sinister she could no longer ignore it. She recognized she had been so consumed with her unexpected passion for Robbie she’d let those emotions mask the other, more foreboding images. Courtney needed to talk to Simon. Needed to do it very quickly. Her powers were not whimsical. They were both accurate and frightening. She was certain that somewhere a force was working to defeat what she and her fellow witches had been planning for 1100 years. If these unknown invaders succeeded, the world could be thrown into a state of chaos that would last for decades, perhaps centuries and leave few survivors.

****

On the thirty-five-mile drive to Conway, I thought about what to tell Michael. We planned to catch up. Since his return from the war, Michael had been distant, a recluse. He accepted the teaching position at Dartmouth and moved out of our Beacon Hill townhouse last year. I’d hoped to break through the wall surrounding him. Now, I had something else in mind, something more immediate and more selfish. My brother was brilliant, kind, and compassionate. Qualities I needed tonight. How would he react when I shared the details of the last twenty-four hours? Could I explain my feelings for Courtney I wondered as I studied the envelope on the seat beside me.

My mind kept returning to Rachel. I should have called her. Until I walked into that steamy dining room last evening, I thought I loved her. I knew better now. Love was what I felt whenever I thought of or saw Courtney. The mysteries surrounding her were multiplying by the minute, but rather than be put off, I found it all intoxicating. Like reading a great whodunit. You were terrified and exhilarated at once. I couldn’t wait to get to the next chapter.

I followed Michael’s directions and pulled up in front of the rambling farmhouse. It stood fifty feet above the gravel turnaround, nestled in a wooded swale between two gentle slopes leading to a ski tow. The war had left Michael a shadow of what he had once been. But whatever he had become, he was still my older brother. Someone who listened thoughtfully and told the truth.

Before I had even put the Jaguar in gear and applied the hand brake, his burly frame came ambling down the winding stairway. I held out my hand. Michael pushed it aside and grabbed me in a bear hug.

“Come here, you lucky son of a gun.” He released me, backing away as he wore a broad grin from ear to ear. “Let’s see what it looks like to be a man about town. Mom keeps sending me the newspaper articles about you. And now there’s a special girl I understand?”

“Hi, Mike.” I nodded. “How’s it going?”

He put a massive hand on either side of my head, eyes narrowing as he searched my face.

“I’m doing all right. But…what about you?” He searched my face and frowned. “I expected upbeat, robust.” He shook his head. “Hell, you look like you just lost your best friend. Hell, I thought that was me, so I hope it’s not the case.”

He put his arm around me and ushered me up the long staircase into his spacious living room. The interior belied the rambling farmhouse look. It had the appearance and feel of a hunting lodge without the trophies.

The rough-hewn pine beams gave the room a pleasant scent, intersecting and bridging the high ceiling twelve feet above us. Simple hand-crafted chairs and a long, overstuffed couch were the main furnishings. The walls were covered with photos of his time in the army and his ski adventures. In the rear, an expanse of glass offered a spectacular view of the slopes.

A well-stocked pine-paneled bar said Mike still enjoyed a good drink. He pushed me in that direction and insisted I sit on one of the stools. Despite the rough, utilitarian look, I settled comfortably onto the leather seat.

“The place looks great. I love it, especially that window in the back,” I said, taking in the comfortable surroundings. It struck me that the interior of the house was the perfect embodiment of my brother.

He went behind the bar, took out two ice-cold beers, chilled mugs, and poured. “All right, is this gonna be easy, or do I have to get you shitfaced before you tell me what’s happening?”

I took a long draft of the beer. It went down too easily—like ice water. “I may need a couple of these.” I smiled as I shook my head. He kept studying me. “Keep ’em coming.”

“No kidding, Rob, you look like shit.”

I took another long swallow of beer.

“Well, at least tell me about the lady in your life. Rachel? That should cheer you up.”

I groaned inwardly.

Three beers later, Mike stood on his deck, concentrating on the two massive tenderloins sizzling on the grill. He kept watch on me as he applied his secret marinade.

It had taken the better part of an hour. I told him about the reunion and Courtney. He tried to come to grips with my explanation. “Come on, Robert, we all see sexy kids.” He gave me that patronizing guy-to-guy look.

“Whoa!” I stood, grabbing the bar for balance. “It’s not like that. Courtney’s twenty, not some teenager I’m leering at. I really like her. More than that”—I swallowed hard and vocalized the thought I’d been fighting—“I…I think I’m falling in love with her.”

He waved, dismissing my words as he narrowed his eyes. “Come on. You’ve only known her for a day.” He threw down the barbecue tools and shook his head. “Maybe this is denial. A reaction to getting serious with your girl in Boston.” He shrugged.

I rolled my eyes as I weaved behind the bar to open my fourth beer.

“Michael, you’re—not—listening. It’s not denial,” I repeated. “Not some crazy weekend fling. I…” The words stuck in my throat.

He left the barbecue and looked at me. “Jesus. You’re serious, aren’t you?” He shook his head. “What do you want from me—my blessing?”

“I don’t know, Mike. I needed to talk to someone and you drew the short straw.”

“Okay. Let’s acknowledge love at first sight and assume that you and this English girl are the perfect pair.” His comments sounded patronizing. “Have you really thought this through?”

He took the steaks off the grill with a giant fork and went to check the corn boiling on the stove.

“You two are going to be love birds. Are you really going to dump Rachel and piss off all our important friends to play house?” he asked. “Have you taken leave of your senses, Robbie?”

“Well…” I had no rebuttal.

We sat down to eat, Michael’s eyes burning a hole in my chest.

“Look,” he began. “I know you’ve always been a charmer, but is it possible she’s a gold digger? We have a well-known family name, money. Do you think that—”

“No!” I interrupted. “She’s due to inherit a fortune. She doesn’t need my money. And she didn’t even know me until two days ago.”

“Okay, maybe she’s a tease, a girl who decided to screw up your life just for kicks. There are girls who enjoy that kind of thing.”

“Hell, Mike, I know that stuff happens, but I can’t buy that either. She’s more confused and frustrated about what’s going on than me.”

“All right, option three—the hard one. What you’re feeling is real, just what you say it is.”

“Okay. Where does that leave us?” I asked. The juicy tenderloins remained untouched. I looked at him. He looked back, shaking his head.

“Shit, Robbie, how do I know?” He exhaled.

I paused, wondering whether to show him the envelope. Why not? He already thought I had punched a one-way ticket for the nearest asylum.

“There’s something else.”

“What more can there be?”

I left the table and went outside, stumbling down the long staircase. When I got to the Jag, I took the envelope and came back inside.

“This. Someone slipped it under my door today.”

“Someone did what?” Michael asked as he spread the contents on the table. He scanned the articles, looking up as he did. Mike was the role model for the term “quick study.” After being badly wounded on D-Day, he’d been a superb intelligence analyst. My brother scanned the pieces. I stood and paced. When he was done, he pushed back, balancing himself on two rough-hewn chair legs.

“Whoa.” He cleared his throat. His expression had changed. He rubbed his forehead. “Someone’s trying to tell you something. Maybe warn you. What do you know about this girl you haven’t told me?”

“I’ve told you everything. Well, almost. I think Jonathan put that stuff in my room. He doesn’t like Courtney.”

“He doesn’t like Courtney,” he repeated soberly, shaking his head. “Let’s back up to the ‘almost’ part of the conversation, Robert.” He stood and pushed me toward one of the overstuffed chairs in the living room.

“Well, she can communicate with animals and wears this real strange necklace and talks about being a witch and I swear she can read my mind.”

He stared at me, shaking his head. “Have you read this stuff?”

I nodded.

“Come on. People die mysteriously and Courtney happens to be the only witness. Signs of witchcraft. And you told me her father sent her away after her mother died in a riding accident? Jesus. Rob, I’ve served over there. You and I may think this is something out of a dime novel, but I have to tell you, a lot of those folks believe in…” He let his words die as he shook his head again. After a short silence he stood and laughed out loud. “So, my younger brother is involved with a witch.”

“Come on. You don’t believe in witchcraft, Michael. And if she was involved with those deaths the police would have…”

“Look, Robbie, you’re my younger brother and you know I love you. But you have to admit, there’s some crazy shit going on here.”

Staring at him, I had an epiphany.

“Can you do something for me, Michael?” I begged.

“Hell, for my baby brother, I’ll try. What?” A frown spoiled his face.

“You know people over there. In Special Branch and DMI. Don’t they call it MI-5 now? Could you talk to them? They may know something, maybe play detective for an old buddy?” I was asking more than I had a right to. But if there was any chance to get to the truth, I had to take it. “If something is out of line, I’ll walk away,” I promised, knowing I could no more do that than fly the Jaguar across the English Channel. “But if this is what it looks like—smoke and mirrors, grist for the tabloids…”

“Yeah. What if it is, are you gonna ditch your life for this girl?”

“I don’t know, Mike. But I have to know. Please.” I put my hands together in mock prayer.

Michael checked his watch and put up his hand. “It’s three in the morning over there. One of the top guys owes me big time. Saved his life in an air raid. Okay. Can you keep your hands off this British cutie until tomorrow, Romeo?”

I nodded and crossed my heart. “Thanks, Mike. I’ll never forget this.” I stood up and headed for the door, swaying with the effects of the alcohol on an empty stomach. “Keep the articles until the next time we meet.”

“Where the hell are you going, man? You didn’t even touch that five-dollar piece of meat in front of you.”

“Sorry, brother. I can’t.” I checked my watch. It was almost ten. “I’ve gotta get back. I just have to see her again.”

“Love. Hope I never catch it! Go ahead. Get the hell out of here.” He waved me toward the door. “Expect to hear from me. And drive safely, goddamn it.” He slapped me on the shoulder. “You’ve had a lot to drink and if anything happened to you, I’d never forgive myself and neither would Mom.”

Chapter Eleven

I stumbled down the long staircase and jumped into my roadster without benefit of the door. Michael stood on the deck shaking his head as he waved goodnight. The alcohol in my empty stomach took control. Random thoughts and questions swam through my head. About Courtney, my feelings, witchcraft, Jonathan’s dislike for her, Rachel, and what to say when I worked up the courage to call her.