“That’s not enough, Jack. I can’t live my
life waiting for Seth to strike. I don’t want to live in fear or
under constant protection. I can’t let him hurt my mother.”
Jack pulled her closer against him. “Rowena
has survived all these years. She’ll be okay. Let me now quote one
of my real-life heroes: ‘Remember that all through history there
have been tyrants or murderers, and for a time they seem
invincible. But in the end, they always fall. Always.’”
“Mahatma Gandhi.”
Jack kissed the tip of her nose. “I knew
you’d recognize it. There’s a strong resistance movement inside
Copper Ridge, Astrid. Seth can’t fool anybody anymore. And there is
Darius, his son.”
Astrid snorted. “Ah, my supposed future
husband.”
“He’s been in Europe, first studying and then
working. He’s an oil engineer. He’s in Scotland now, on an oil rig
in the North Sea. He seems a good man, nothing like his father. We
know he wants to end this chaos.”
“Not so long ago, Seth also seemed normal,
didn’t he?”
“Darius is different. I can’t explain how I
know, but I’m sure everything’s fine with him. Anyway, he spent his
childhood and youth in Copper Ridge with his father, until he went
to Edinburgh to study engineering. Seth had left Darius’s mother,
Aida, a few years before he married Rowena. Aida died shortly after
that. Darius is close to his maternal aunt Arina, and his cousin
Amilla, Arina’s daughter. And to your mother. Rowena raised him.
Darius regards Rowena as his mother. He’ll protect her,
Astrid.”
“Oh. That’s good,” Astrid whispered, feeling
jealous, glad and relieved all at once. “They’ve had each other.
She’s not alone.”
Feeling Astrid’s distress, Jack quickly
returned to the topic of bringing Seth down and restoring normal
life in Copper Ridge. “We are neighbors and relatives. We used to
be the closest and most connected two clans on the whole
continent,” he said. “We lived side by side for generations,
intermarried, visited each other, traded, built, celebrated
together, even fought together.”
“Is there any contact between Red Cliffs and
Copper Ridge now? Do people go to visit each other?”
“It’s impossible to sever all connections, of
course, but in general, Red Cliffers are not welcomed there and
people from Copper Ridge can’t leave their territory without Seth’s
personal permission. We have to work around it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean the financial help Red Cliffs has
been providing for the last twenty years. James organized a support
network through his connections with the Copper Ridge diaspora. So
far everything’s going smoothly and without Seth’s knowledge.”
“So, in spite of his personal feud with Seth,
my uncle has been helping the neighborhood clan. That speaks
volumes about his character.”
Jack picked a stray lock of Astrid hair and
tucked it behind her ear. “Astrid, your uncle is a great leader.
For James—and for all of us, for that matter—Copper Ridge is not
Seth Withali. Copper Ridge is their children and their people, our
friends and relatives, simple people who suffer because their
Einhamir is a crazy despot. ‘Seth will be gone soon, Copper Ridge
isn’t going anywhere’, that’s what your uncle says. And your
presence,” he added quietly, “will set many things in motion and
ultimately restore the balance not only in Red Cliffs, but also in
Copper Ridge.”
Astrid looked up at him, her blue eyes unsure
and scared. “Are you sure I can do that? Are you sure you have the
right person?” she said with panic in her voice. “Jack, nobody’s
prepared me for such role. I might not be who you expect me to be.
I’m just a simple person. I’ve never wanted to be more than that.
Oh, my God, what I am going to do?!”
“Astrid, Astrid, it’s okay, baby. Don’t
panic. You don’t need to do anything you haven’t done countless
times before.” Jack rocked her gently, kissing her hair and
stroking her back until she stopped shivering. “You were born to
help people, to make them feel better, to bring out their good
side. You’ve always done that. I know it’s not easy, but once
you’re in Red Cliffs, you’ll feel better about it. It’s who you
are, Astrid.”
“Right now I’m feeling like a damn tribe
talisman,” she said and stood up. “I’m going to make tea. Want
some?”
She marched into the kitchen. She grabbed the
edge of the counter with both hands and took several deep
breaths.
“Damn it, what has happened to my life?” she
said and jerked the cupboard door open, rummaging through the
contents of the shelves. “There isn’t decent loose-leaf tea in this
house! I hate tea from bags. Tastes like soap suds. Damn, damn,
damn!” The door closed with a bang.
Two strong hands closed around her as Jack’s
solid body pressed against her back. “Lots of damns in less than a
minute. About soapsuds, you’re right. They do taste horrible.”
Astrid closed her eyes, nestling the back of
her head on his shoulder. “How do you know?”
“When I was about five, my friend Adam
double-dared me to have a sip… Astrid, sweetie, I’m sorry,” he
whispered into her ear. “I didn’t mean to upset you. You’re doing
great. I know how difficult it is.”
“Do you? Do any of you know? My whole life’s
upside down,” Astrid said and turned to face Jack. “I’m scared,
Jack. I’m angry and hurt. My mother abandoned me but raised
somebody else’s child. My grandparents kept me in the dark, my
uncle’s trying to control my life. And that lunatic who plans to
have me married to his son! Crazy as it is, it’s also insulting.
Who does he think he is? And why me? I didn’t ask for any of this.
I don’t know what to do.”
“I’ll be with you. I’ll protect you with
everything I have.”
“I know. I only wish we could just be an
ordinary couple.” Astrid sighed and ran her hand through her hair.
“Please let’s not talk about it anymore. Tell me something nice.
Tell me about James and mother, your brother and sister. Please.
Let’s talk about something normal and meaningful.”
“Come back to the living room. Do you want a
glass of wine?” Jack said as he gently pushed her out of the
kitchen.
“No. I’m fine.” Once the little storm had
passed, Astrid felt better.
“Do you want to go for a drive or walk? Let’s
go buy some nice loose-leaf tea.”
Astrid smiled, but shook her head. “I’m
tired. Let’s stay here. It’s still raining anyway. I’ll sit in my
corner and be good.”
“No, you won’t.” As he sat down, Jack took
one of the cushions and placed it in his lap. “Come.” He patted the
cushion. “Put your head here and try not to move too much... There
you are. So, you’ve asked about my family. My mother married your
uncle James after my father died. I think James was always in love
with her, but Brian was his friend and James, honorable as he is,
would’ve never done anything to reveal his true feelings. It took
him awhile to muster enough courage to ask my mother to marry
him.”
“Were your mother and father bond-mates?”
He smiled. “No, they weren’t. They were just
regularly crazy about each other.”
“What about her and James? They seem to have
a good marriage.”
“Bonding isn’t common, Astrid, and that’s why
is even more special. My mother and James have one of the best
marriages I’ve ever seen, but they’re not bonded in a conventional
way. They love each other deeply and absolutely. Do they need a
stronger bond than that? Or maybe bonding works in different ways
for different people, who knows? They easily had two children
together, which is another proof that they belong to each other.
Our kind does not procreate as easily as humans. We live long
lives, and that’s one of nature’s ways to control the size of our
population.”
“Are we going to have children?”
“As many as you want. Those restrictions do
not apply to Ellidas. That much we know.”
“I’ve never thought about having children
before,” Astrid said quietly. “You?”
“Not before I met you, no.”
Astrid felt flutters in her stomach and her
heart skipped a beat, but no matter how appealing the topic was,
it’s wasn’t the best moment to talk about children.
“Tell me about your relationship with James,”
she said. “I have a silly question: who’s older? Technically, you
could be.”
“James is older.”
“How does it work, with some of you old, some
not, some humans, some half-humans?”
Jack’s fingers plowed gently through Astrid’s
long hair. “Somehow we know. Rather than, let’s say, the length of
our existence, what matters is the relationship between us.
Regardless of age, James simply feels like my father.”
“But he’s your step-father.”
“Our sense of family is strong, stronger than
among humans. In that sense there’s no difference between
step-relatives and blood relatives.”
Astrid narrowed her eyes. “Not even between
step-cousins?”
“Except when they fall in love.”
“Good. I don’t like to think about you as my
cousin.”
“Close relatives do not bond, Astrid.”
“Ah, now I understand what you meant when you
said there were no roadblocks for us… How do you call James?
Father?”
Jack shrugged. “Dad, Father, James, depending
on the situation.”
“You probably look the same age?”
Jack let out a soft chuckle. “Sometimes he
seems even younger. I can look quite mature if I’m preoccupied with
my job or if I have some problems. But we’re aware of our
connections and relations, and if somebody looks physically younger
than his grandson, that doesn’t matter at all. They’re still a
grandfather and a grandson. Like you and Ella, for example. Ella
doesn’t exactly look like your grandmother either.”
“But wizards don’t have as long a life
expectancy as werewolves.”
“It’s still a span of several human lives,
long enough to force you to change your identity and the place you
live a couple of times during your lifetime.”
“We’ll talk about the werewolf life span some
other time. I don’t want to be scared anymore tonight. Tell me more
about your family.”
His sister Maggie was twenty-two, Jack said
with a warm, broad smile, and had been studying to be an oil
engineer. Eamon was seventeen and wanted to study music.
“He plays electric guitar. He’s good. He has
his own band and they play on weekends in a local pub, Goblin’s
Hollow. Not their own music, or at least not all the time,
otherwise they probably wouldn’t have many customers there. It’s
good music, though. I like it.”
“What’s the name of the band?”
“Rawhide. Definitely in sync with the music
they play: powerful, loud and full of energy. Not the best for
Friday nights at the local watering hole, though.”
“So what do they play? Country?”
“Some, not much; I don’t think country agrees
with Eamon. Rock-and-roll, of course, but also pop, jazz and
blues.”
“What does he want to study?”
“Ethnomusicology. Astrid, why don’t you
listen to music anymore?” Jack said suddenly. “In his report—don’t
get mad again, please—Alec mentions you often do that.”
“Well, I figured you can still hear it even
if I put my earphones on. I’m not sure if you’d like what I listen
to.”
Jack lifted Astrid’s hand and kissed her
fingers. “I have eclectic tastes. I’m sure we overlap somewhere.
Try me... Do you play music when you operate?”
“No. Many doctors do, but I don’t. I know
some of my colleagues find my approach conservative, but for me,
there are no routine surgeries, no matter how minor they are. My
operating room is a serious place, like the job we do there. I
don’t allow any unnecessary conversation, no chatting, no jokes.
Everybody should be focused on doing their best because the body on
the table deserves no less than that, Jack.” She braced herself on
her elbow. “We’re talking about me again. Don’t distract me. How
about you and music?”
“I don’t have any formal education.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“I play electric guitar. Sometimes, when I’m
in Red Cliffs, I play with the band. Maggie used to sing on the
weekends, before she started studying. That was a compromise: some
guests aren’t happy with Rawhide’s hard rock songs, and Eamon
categorically refuses to sing ‘girly’ songs. His words, mind
you.”
“I would be disappointed, too. I like some
‘girly’ songs. I’d love to sing
Dancing Queen
one day, for
example.”
“ABBA ?!”
Astrid laughed. “There is no other
Dancing
Queen
… It’s a lovely song. It starts with the refrain, which is
unusual.” Astrid sang it and her crystal clear voice filled the
room. “And then the singers. Their voices are fantastic! Each voice
is distinctive, but they sound like one. They sing from alto to
mezzo-soprano, and it sounds easy and natural.
“Trust you to turn a simple pop song into a
mini-study,” Jack said and kissed her cheek.
Astrid turned her head until her lips found
Jack’s. “There’s nothing simple about
Dancing Queen
,” she
said over a series of small, sweet kisses, before she pulled
herself up and took a deep breath.
“Don’t worry, Jack, I’m still in charge.
Anyway, from… where is it, aha, here… ta-da-da… that’s E3. They
skyrocket in one breath to C5. One and a half octaves! Most pop
songs are sung in half an octave, mind you. Listen.” She sang the
whole refrain. “It’s a beautiful song and superb singing,” Astrid
concluded. “One of my all-time favorites. I’m not a big fan of
dance music, but
Dancing Queen
is an institution in
itself.”
Jack wanted to say that for him she was an
institution in herself, in a league of her own, but instead he just
bent his head and kissed her. “If there is no other way, I’ll seize
a concert hall and for a night let you sing whatever you want,” he
promised.
“Who’s going to listen?” Astrid said,
obviously playing the whole scene in her imagination.