A Gift of Three(37)

Speech made, he turned and stormed back into the greenhouse.

“Follow!” he commanded.

I looked at Jovi and Field.

“It doesn’t seem like we have much choice,” I whispered, “not if we want answers.”

“I don’t like giving in,” Jovi snapped.

“Neither do I,” replied Field with an agitated sigh. “But we need to hear what he has to say. At least to learn a bit more about where we are before we attempt to leave again.”

“All right.” Jovi nodded. “He gets one chance.”

We all trailed in, feeling disheartened. I didn’t say anything to the others, but I actually felt relieved that we wouldn’t be leaving without Phoenix and the girls. I didn’t think it would be a good idea for us to be parted, even if their supposed ‘transformation’ was a trick.

The Druid vanished again once we entered the house.

“So, what do we do till dinner?” Jovi asked, looking around at the shabby interior with distaste.

“We explore,” I replied. “All that junk upstairs—some of it’s got to provide us with at least a bit of information. I want to know more about the Druids, and try to get a better understanding of what we’re up against.”

“He must be a type of magic-wielder, surely,” Field said. “Controlling those birds like that…It’s something I’ve only seen jinn or witches do.”

“He denies he’s a warlock,” I replied, “and he’s evidently not a jinni. I think we’re dealing with a distinct species…did you see his eyes?” I asked, shuddering.

“Yeah,” Jovi replied softly, taking my hand, and we walked up the stairs. His small act of reassurance was a cold comfort. I felt like we were way over our heads here—the idea that we might be stuck somewhere in the depths of the In-Between, light years away from our families and GASP, made me feel hollow and empty inside.





Serena





[Hazel and Tejus’s daughter]




All three of us headed back upstairs in search of clues.

“Wow,” Field commented as we reached the hallway, “this is a lot of junk.”

“Didn’t you see this already?” I asked, wondering how he’d left the house in the first place.

He shook his head. “Flew out of the window.”

“Right.” Of course he had. Not for the first time, I envied the Hawk his natural abilities. Not to say mine weren’t helpful, but they depended too much on my energy levels. What I could and couldn’t do relied on how many people I could syphon and how much sleep and food I’d had.

“So, a fan of taxidermy,” Field continued, picking up a moth-eaten cat. “That doesn’t exactly make me warm to him.”

“I don’t know,” I replied slowly. “This stuff is so old…what if it belonged to whoever lived here before him?”

“Whoever it was is probably buried in a basement somewhere,” Jovi muttered.

I grimaced. I didn’t want to think too much about the Druid and what he was capable of. “Put the cat down, Field,” I snapped, leading the way to the nearest door. It opened with a creak, and we all peered inside.

It was another bedroom, a bit more lavish than mine and Jovi’s had been—the floor was carpeted and a huge chandelier hung from the middle of the room, along with bookcases and a vanity table. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust, giving the impression that the room hadn’t been touched in centuries. I walked over to the vanity table, noticing an open jewelry box containing expensive gold and silver necklaces and bracelets, along with a beautiful diamond engagement ring. I didn’t touch anything, but wondered who would leave all these things here, open like this, with the box unlocked. There were also old perfume bottles, still containing liquids, and a crystal powder-holder, yellowed with age. I started to seriously consider the fate of whoever had lived here before the Druid. Had they been killed? Had they been human or supernatural?

“Come on, there’s nothing in here. Let’s try somewhere else.” Jovi and Field returned to the doorway.

“Serena?” Jovi prompted.

“Coming,” I replied. “Just go next door—I’ll follow you in a second.”

As they left, I pulled open the drawer beneath the dresser. It was bare apart from a thick, leather-bound notebook. I flicked through the pages, my eyes widening as I saw neat but cramped handwriting filling each of the pages—I was looking at someone’s journal. My immediate reaction was to return it to where I’d found it. Prying into someone’s most personal, most intimate thoughts wasn’t okay, even if I suspected that person to be long dead. I hesitated before putting it back in the drawer.