The Violet Hour (19 page)

I stare and cock my head, taking in the hues. It’s like walking through a dream.

“There’s something…off about the light?”

Lucy turns to meet my gaze. “It’s called the Violet Hour.”

I must look confused because she clarifies. “The light is tinged purple. It’s because of the Magnolia’s. George called it, Magnolia Magic.”

“George is your brother?”

She nods, but then her eyebrows pull together. “Bright has never told you about George?”

I think of the mention in her father’s journal; “George’s fits. I do this for him.”

I shake my head. “No. When I met you and you spoke his name was the first I had ever heard of him.”

“That is very very odd.”

We are quiet for a few long moments as she stares across the pond.

Tears shine in her eyes, making them abnormally bright. “What is it, Lucy?’

“He comes sometimes, to the pond.”

“Who comes?” I ask, my heart speeding up so fast the world tips a tiny bit. I think of the images, the smithy, my mother.

She swallows. “George. I miss him s-so much.” Her lips tremble and she hides her face behind those delicate hands.

I ease the horse alongside her, so our legs touch.

I hesitate, not sure I want to hear the answer.

“What happened to George?” I gently prompt.

“Brighton says he’s alive…just…somewhere
else.
I didn’t believe him. I thought he was dead, like Momma. That Brighton was just trying to spare my heart. But then one night at dusk I came here, in the Violet Hour.”

I must look confused because she clarifies. “It only happens twice a day; just before daybreak and twilight. When the night and the day pass by one another. And you need the Magnolias. Lots and lots of Magnolias to get the color.”

A violent shiver rocks my body. My mind stutter-steps as I fight to find words.

“Brighton was gone, George was gone and Danvers
might as well
be gone, he never even looks at me. And…” Her breath catches as a sob chokes out. It’s too sharp and deep for someone so very young. “George was like a child, but the most wonderful, mischievous child you could ever know. We did everything together. He. He…”

Her face buckles under the pain.

I understand and feel my own pain, hovering in my mind and my heart breaks open in my chest for her. Innocence never spared me pain.

Pain rains down on the worldly and innocent alike.

I grasp her hand in mine, and give it a little shake. “I lost my Momma, too. She was the only warmth in my house. In my life.”

Lucy’s eyes flick to mine and sharpen. She wipes the tears with the back of her and nods. “I’ve seen him…” she hesitates.

“I don’t understand.
Where
is George?”

She points, “
There
.”

“In the water?” I repeat.

The sour flood of dread fills my mouth. “I still don’t understand, my dear.”

Oh, but you do
.

The burning on my chest becomes unbearable.

Thunder rumbles overhead as if The Almighty answers in her stead. A flash of blue lightning strikes, jumping through the trees, heading straight for us.

I grasp the reins and wheel the horse around, readying him to flee. “Lucy, come! We must go. This is not safe.”

The searing on my chest is like a tiny bolt of lightning and I gasp, clutching at it.

It is
my pendant
.
My Magnolia pendant scorches as if it is on fire.

I pull back on the reigns, fighting the horse’s stutter-stepping, he trots forward—but Lucy is rooted. Shaking her head, staring at the approaching, sizzling bolts.

A blue flash
.
It strikes the Magnolia.

A blue flash
. It strikes the shore.

“
Lu-cy
!” I urge the horse back alongside hers and yank the reins from her hand, hauling her mare around.

“No!” she screams, her tears streaming again. “I will miss him! I must see him!”

She slips from the saddle, flying in a whirlwind of white and lace toward the water.

“Oh my Providence.”

I urge the horse to an instant gallop. Lucy’s almost at the water.
If she falls in…and the bolt strikes…

A blue flash
. The lightning touches-down upon the pond.

The blue bolt connects, streaming on and on in a sparkling blue and white glittery current; like ground diamonds and sapphires have electrified into a malevolent star-dust.

Rippling waves of cornflower-blue resonate from the bolt’s core, stretching in larger and larger circles—like a stone cast into a pond. They expand till one reaches the shore with a
thw-ack.

A crush of pressure envelopes us, like an invisible bubble. The horses whinny in protest, ears lying flat, but stand utterly still. Mesmerized.

“Lucy.” I dismount and gather her into my arms, unable to tear my eyes away. “Come away,” I manage to whisper.

The stream of light ceases—its celestial candle gutted.

The pond ripples and I inhale sharply. Pictures shimmer on its surface.

“It’s like God’s Looking Glass,” Lucy murmurs. “That’s what
I
call it.”

I gasp, hauling her backward, away from the water.

She pushes back, wrenching free of the cage of my arms. “
No
. Look there! Do you not see him, Allegra?”

A light sheen of sweat breaks on my brow and I squint. A young man appears on the surface, his hair the exact shade of Brighton’s. I breathe deeply, trying not to swoon. He walks with an ungainly lope.

“
That
is George.”

Lucy’s face twitches with a contradiction of emotion. Tears stream to her chin but her lips curl into a tiny smile of utter joy.

She claps her hands then cups them around her mouth to bellow, “George! Oh Georgie, I miss you! Pleeeease come back!”

The figure makes no sign of hearing her plea. His slightly unfocused eyes stare at something behind him.

The now-purple light intensifies. I am wonderstruck.
Is this the secret in those books?
This is what Brighton seeks. I am certain of it.

His brother is lost. He’s near mad to find him. He feels responsible somehow.

How does it open? Why does it open?
Where
does it open?

What sort of place exists, outside of our world? It looked not-quite our world, indeed like peering through the looking-glass. Our world in reverse. I squint, trying to make out George’s surroundings. Flowers litter the field where he lopes.

The colors, the bulbs…are different, shades I’ve never seen before.

The light is fading. Someone unseen must call to George, because he turns, his eyebrows rising, limping toward a voice only he can hear.

“No. Please, don’t go. Please, Georgie.” Lucy crumples to the ground, crawling toward the electrified pond. I drop beside her, wrapping my arms around her torso, restraining her. Her fingers claw the wet dirt in her attempt to reach him.

“You can’t go in there, Lucy.”

She bats my arms, trying to wiggle free, her fingers outstretched—“I want to go with you. Please Georgie.” Her chest heaves beneath my arms and her eyes are wild, as if she’s talking to herself, not me. “It was always
he and I
. When Poppa was mad-crazy, we would hide together in the oaks. Play together. I’d never-ever leave him. Let me go!”

I shake her shoulders and force her to meet my gaze. “
Lucy
. What would Brighton do without you? It would kill him to lose you, too.”

I know these words to be true. So does Lucy, because she stops struggling, her body going limp as the hope drains away.

She stares, fixated, waiting until George’s boot finally slides out of view and the ripples cease.

The pond is clear, and so is the air. No trace of the oppressive force remains.

Nightfall arrives in earnest; its inky black erasing all traces of the purple hue.

Toby’s voice echoes in my head
. Alligators. Mosquitoes.

“We must return to Morelands.”

I drag her away from the water and ease Lucy back onto her horse and slap its hindquarters.

* * *

Lucy barrels ahead through the dark and if she weren’t atop the white mare, clearly visible against the backdrop of the dark oaks, she would be lost. And so would I.

A loud snort issues to my right and I whirl in the saddle toward it.

A massive…bull-like beast with curlicue horns stares at me from behind a rickety wooden fence. Pawing the ground. It snorts as its nostrils flare, its eyes focusing on me.

Lucy pulls back on the reins and halts her horse, dead in place.

She’s utterly still, but I see the terror and realization spread across her face. Her lips are moving frantically, but I can’t hear her. She’s too far off.

“Whoa.” I try to halt my horse, but his ears lie flat on his head, sensing the danger.

The bull snorts in return, and
charges
.

Cra-aack
. His large wooly forehead splinters the wooden fence like matchsticks as bits rain out, plastering my horse’s chest.

“Protect me, Providence.”

I whirl the horse about and kick his sides, digging my heels into his flesh.

The horse rears and the world upends. I swipe for the saddle-horn as the horse’s front hooves leave the ground; it slips through my outstretched fingers and my bottom slides from the saddle to the horse’s flanks.

I have just enough time to think
, I’m falling
before my breath whooshes out and pain jars my shoulder blades as my back strikes the dirt.

Black and white stars explode and pop like Brighton’s fireworks in my vision.

“For mercy’s sake, Lucy!”

Brighton.

I hear and feel hoof beats galloping to me and the insane charging-exotic-beast.

“
Roll
, Allegra!”

I shake my head in time to see hooves, backing toward my skull.

I roll and roll like my dress’s caught fire.

More hoof beats, from the opposite direction. “Toby, distract the water-buffalo. Lucy, go!”

Brighton’s hands wrench me from the ground, into his arms and onto his saddle in what seems just a few blinks to my addled wits.

“Wrap your arms around me.” I do my best, but my arms seem to have forgotten how to hold as he trots toward the main house. I allow my head to collapse against his back.

I struggle to remain awake, but vertigo spins the world like a Ferris wheel. The pace picks up and my stomach lurches with the motion.

“Allegra. Allegra,” Brighton’s voice soothes, thick with concern.

Despite my revolving mind, despite the bellowing beast, I am instantly awash in a warm, drenching relief. One repeating thought echoes through my head as we gallop.

Safe. I am ever safe with him.

* * *

Jonesy

“Must we return?” Sarah’s hands fidget. We enter Charleston proper, its walls all but screaming of Yankee invasion.

The war is coming. People talk of nothing else. Those on the fence must choose their side, and make haste in getting there.

I slide closer to her on the carriage seat, so I may be heard over the rumble of the cobblestones. After swimming ashore, we managed to make it up the coast to a neighboring town, where we waited a few precious days. We visited a magistrate and became husband and wife. It was not what I would have wanted for her, but with Silas looming, I just could not return until Sarah shared my last name—so that I might have some legal recompense against him, should he try to harm her.

“Sarah—you understand what we discussed. War is unavoidable. We must leave Charleston. Return to my father in the North. But I cannot till I know Brighton and Allegra are safe. Can you? Say the word and I will force myself to leave.”

Sarah’s blue eyes fill as her face openly struggles with our dilemma. She blinks and a few stray tears fall. “No. I love Allegra like she is my sister.” Her eyes are bright with terror. “Did you hear what he did to Mr. Peabody for botching the fireworks?”

The image of Silas’s white cane, striking over and over invades my head.

A cold chill floods my veins and my eyes steal across the bay. “Yes. He disappeared. I expect he’ll be washing up on shore any day now.” As my one hand tightly grips the reigns, I take her hand with my free one, my eyes searching the bay. “I realize he’s mad. We will remain one more week a fortnight at most—then depart and pray for the best. I hope the war can hold off that long.”

We arrive at the dock and grasp hands tightly. I eye the isle warily. “We need to see if Brighton has returned to Fire Island.”

Chapter Fifteen

Raised voices, filtering beneath the door, rouse me from sleep.

For a moment I am disoriented; the unfamiliar, ornate furniture immediately sends my heart fluttering like a bird against the cage of my ribs.