The Wanderers Beginning: The Wanderers, Reborn, & Unforgiven (126 page)

             
Deirdre stared at me from across the table before getting up and reaching for a bottle on top of the fridge. I was surprised her short stubby arms could reach that high.  She put the bottle on the table along with two small glasses and then had a seat. She twisted off the cap, poured some brown liquid into the two glasses, and then slid one over to me. “Drink,” she said.

             
I reluctantly took the glass and held it up to my lips. I glared at her before I took a sip. The instant the liquid hit my throat it burned. I had to hide my expression from Deirdre, knowing if I made a face she’d disapprove. I put the glass down, not wanting to swallow any more of this horrid beverage. Deirdre made a disgusted noise at me and then gulped down the clear brown liquid like it was water. She put her glass down and refilled it, challenging me to finish mine.

             
Never one to back down from a challenge, I picked up my glass, and swallowed whole. I held my breath and prayed that I could keep it down. I slammed my glass on the table and smirked at her. She poured me another cup and smiled.

             
Crap.

             
I gulped the next one down in one sip and had to hold onto the chair. Oh how it burned. It took everything I had not to gag. She smiled at me pouring both her and me another glass. “What is this stuff?” I asked, reaching for the bottle.

             
She pulled the bottle away from me. Not in the mood to deal with her bullshit, I wiggled my fingers at the bottle causing it to slide across the table to me. I gave her a smart ass look and she just glared at me. I turned the bottle around to look at the label. Irish whiskey, that explained a lot. It was going to be a long night.

             
She waited for me to take the next shot. So I did, proving to her I was no softie. We sat there silently for a moment, just staring at each other. Having enough of the silence, I said, “Why do you hate me so much? You don’t even know me.” She finished her drink and then filled up her glass again, not speaking. “Look, if you’re not even going to answer me then please stop wasting my time.”

             
“Such a mouth for a girl who’s supposed to be queen,” she said, eyeing me. Okay now I knew she was crazy.

             
“What are you talking about?”

             
“You are Ella McCallister are you not? Daughter of Lasirian?”

             
“Yeah, no. My dad’s name is Liam.”

             
She ignored my comment and continued her rant. “It’s a shame Alexander bowed down. He would have made a better ruler.”

             
“Wait, how’d you even –” I stopped myself, afraid I might say too much. I didn’t know how much she knew, but I’d like to keep my so called royal status to myself if I could. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

             
She laughed at my sad attempt to hide I knew she was talking about. “How I know is not your concern.”

             
“Like hell it isn’t.” I stood up, not able to take it anymore. My sense of calm was long gone and any chance of me pretending I was someone else was shot out the window.

             
She didn’t even flinch. She just sat there smiling and sipping her drink. “If the fate of our people is in your hands we’re all screwed.”

             
Having enough I turned to walk away, but she stopped me. It was like there was an invisible wall in front of me. “Ugh! Let me go!” I yelled.

             
“Sit,” she said.

             
“Why, so you can berate me some more? I get enough of that from my father.”

             
“Sit,” she growled. Having no other choice I turned around and sat back down crossing my arms. She poured some more whiskey into my glass and pushed it forward. I took it and slammed the glass back down on the table. “I don’t hate you Ella. I just think you’re not…” she paused as I waited for the punch to the gut. “Ready,” she said, looking at me over her glass.

             
That, I did not expect. “Ready for what?”

             
“That, I cannot tell you.”

             
“Quit the cryptic bullshit,” I said aggravated.

             
“Again with the mouth.” She finished off her drink and then topped off her glass. “I guess some of us never learn.” Tired of the run around I was about to say something when she continued. “You can love more than one.” I swallowed. Either this woman was psychic or had some very good spies out there like my dad. “It’s not an easy task, but it is possible.” I slumped back in the chair totally taken off guard.

             
“We may not agree, but I believe either of my grandsons would be lucky to have someone who cares as much as you do. Although I feel one may need you more than you think.”

             
“Wait…what?” I said confused. “I think you had a few too many. Josef and I…it’s not like that. We’re friends.”

             
She just smiled like she knew some secret I didn’t, which wouldn’t be too far off considering I didn’t know what she was talking about half the time. “Ella, you are very young and you have a lot to learn. In time you will come to find out you have a lot of hard decisions to make. While I know you will make a lot of wrong decisions before you make the right ones,” I narrowed my eyes. “You and only you will be the one who can decide what is right.” She leaned forward in her chair. Her face inches from mine. “You’re the one who’s going to change everything.”

             
She sat back, proud of herself. “Again with the cryptic,” I said, annoyed, taking another sip of my drink. “Could you just please cut the crap for once?”

             
She got up and got in my face. “A princess does not talk back to her elders,” she said like I should have known better.

             
“I’m not a princess,” I glared.

             
“Yes you are and the sooner you realize that the sooner you can stop pretending.”

             
“Pretending what?” I asked exasperated. I slammed my head down on the table getting a headache from this conversation and I was sure the whiskey wasn’t helping.

             
She lifted my head up by pulling at the back of my hair. If I had any energy I would have slapped her hand away, but I was also afraid she might take a chunk of my hair with her and put a curse on me. “Pretending you’re not good enough because as much as you don’t want to admit it you are.” She let go of my hair and my head smacked down hard on the table.

             
I rubbed my forehead as she sat back down. Then I put the cool glass against my throbbing head. I looked at her as she raised her glass to me. I didn’t understand this woman, but for some reason she knew me. She actually reminded me a little bit of my grandma Bea. I guess I should just be thankful she hasn’t tried to hit me over the head with a shovel and bury me in the garden.

             
I finished off my glass and sat there while Deirdre refilled it. We both sat there silently for a moment, studying each other. Whatever issues I had with her were not going to go away and vice versa, but whatever just happened, I think somehow we managed to come to an understanding. A small one, but I would take what I could get. I decided the best way to go was to push everything aside and talk like normal people. “So, can you teach me that spell where you knocked me on my ass?”

             
She laughed. “That, I cannot. You need not worry with little spells.”

             
“Little spell?” I said and she laughed again, clearly showing the alcohol was hitting her.

             
“The power you possess alone would have been enough to block my spell, but you don’t know how to properly use it.”

             
“That, I do not,” I admitted.

             
“Tell me. What do you plan to do now that you found Tristan?”

             
“Go…” I was going to say home, but then I remembered I wasn’t sure if I was welcome there. Then I thought about school, but from what my dad had said they had to pull some strings to get me back in and according to him I was no longer a part of the family. I was pretty sure they stopped helping me get back into school. “I’m not sure exactly.”

             
Deirdre got up and left the room. I was starting to learn that was a bad habit of hers and just decided to sit and wait. She returned shortly with a photo album and plopped back down in her chair. She opened it up and pushed it toward me. I looked down at the first picture. A baby with coal black, wavy hair and the deepest blue eyes stared right back at me. “Is this Tristan?” I asked and she nodded. I might be biased, but Tristan was probably the most beautiful baby I’d ever seen.

             
I continued to flip through the pages as she sat there quietly sipping her drink. I flipped to a page where Tristan looked to be about five and he was dressed up as a witch. I had to stifle my laugh. I looked down at the bottom of the page where there was another picture of him and Deirdre standing in front of a cauldron. “He wanted to be just like his grandma,” she said, smiling at the memory.

             
I flipped through the next couple of pages. All pictures of Tristan and his family. In the middle of the book was a picture of a woman in a wedding dress. She looked to be about only sixteen. She had beautiful, long, black hair, a petite figure, and her eyes. Something about her eyes made her so much older than she looked. “Is this you?”

             
“Yes. That was the day I married the love of my life.” For the first time ever I think I saw affection in her eyes. “My looks may have changed a bit since then.” She eyed me, waiting for a witty reply, but I kept my mouth shut and the smile off my face. We continued to look through the album and drink. She told me stories of Tristan growing up and for the first time I heard Deirdre laugh, a real genuine laugh. I didn’t know if it was the booze or not, but I didn’t care. Deirdre and I had found something we had in common. We both cared deeply for Tristan.

             
As if he knew we were talking about him, he walked into the kitchen. “How’s it going in here?” he asked, like he half expected to walk into a blood bath.

             
“Oh your grandmother was just showing me pics of you when you were little.”

             
He sighed relieved and leaned over the back of my chair to look at the album. “Ella, what are you drinking?” He picked up my glass and sniffed it.

             
“Whiskey,” I shrugged.

             
“Nan, this isn’t your homemade whiskey is it?”

             
“Why would I get that cheap watered down stuff when I have this?” She raised her glass and finished what was left inside.

             
“Is it hot in here?” I suddenly felt very warm.

             
“How much did you drink?” Tristan asked concerned.

             
“I dunno,” I shrugged.

             
“Why don’t we take you outside and get you some air,” he said, helping me up.

             
“I can stand on my own, thank you.” I slapped his hand away and went to stand up. He should have known better and so should have I. I hadn’t realized how much I drank until I tried to stand. I felt like my chair was pulled out from underneath me. The room was slowly spinning. I fell back on my heel, slipping, and then falling flat on my ass. Deirdre began to laugh hysterically. I just glared at her.

             
Tristan peeled me up off the floor. “Come on, let’s get you some air,” he said, steadying me. Once he knew he had a good grip on me, he looked back over his shoulder at his grandmother. “Really Nan, I can’t believe you let her drink this much. You know anyone who has your whiskey for the first time has to consume it gradually.”

             
“Please, she’s Irish and a Wanderer. If she can’t handle my whiskey then she doesn’t belong here,” she growled.

             
“This is like some kind of test, isn’t it?” I slurred, looking at Deirdre. “God, you are such a bitch.”

             
Tristan froze, not believing I just said that. Deirdre and I looked at each other and then started cracking up laughing. Tristan was confused but took it as a good thing and picked me up knowing this could take a while if I tried to walk. “Hey, what are those glowing things?” I asked, as he carried me out the door.

             
“Nan, you are in big trouble,” he called over his shoulder.

             
“Do you see them?” I whispered, afraid if I spoke too loudly I would scare them away. I reached out to touch the tiny, sparkling orbs that were floating by.

             
Tristan laid me down on one of the lounge chairs out back. “How do you feel?”