Authors: Lisa Ann Brown
“Who are you?” Arabel repeated, thinking that the man’s features looked somewhat oddly familiar.
“My name is Zander Cross,” the handsome, auburn haired Gypsy said. “I believe you’ve met my older brother.”
“Xavier.”
“Yes, that would be him!”
Zander laughed easily. He took hold of Arabel’s arm, gently, with a question in his eyes.
“Shall we have tea?” Zander asked and Arabel shocked herself by consenting - somewhat despite herself - and she let him lead her unresistingly down the busy street and into a small and secluded tearoom.
The bells on the door chimed merrily as they entered and a few patrons glanced up to survey the newcomers. Arabel had never been to the Muilse Tearoom before, and upon entering
, she was not certain she’d
known prior
that
such a tearoom even existed in Crow’s Nest Pass.
“I have never seen this tearoom before,” Arabel remarked, thoroughly puzzled, to her new acquaintance.
Zander smiled enigmatically at Arabel.
“You must know where to look, if you want to see it,” Zander commented mysteriously and did not elaborate further, much to Arabel’s chagrin. But Arabel refused to be baited and did not ask for clarification in regard to Zander’s abstract response. Instead, Arabel busied herself by glancing around, taking in all of the details of the Muilse Tearoom.
The tearoom was small but did not give the appearance of being cramped in any way although the bright white tables were all fully occupied and clustered fairly closely together, and the vivid, eclectic throw rugs seemed to eat up the floor space with their multi-coloured designs and soft textures. The white walls were covered in artwork and coloured glass beads hung down on chains strung across the ceiling. Plants and flowers sat on all of the tables and the air was scented with pear and cinnamon tea. It smelt delicious and Arabel laughed suddenly.
One moment she was meant to be on hands and knees scrubbing out the cloakroom and the next, she was having tea with the younger brother of the Gypsy Council leader. It was quite a pleasant, albeit unexpected, turn of events, Arabel reflected in amusement to herself.
“You seek humour in small things, Miss Spade?” Zander asked Arabel as they perused the tea and snack menus.
“Yes, Mr. Cross, quite often I do. Tell me, please, what is your business with me? As delighted as I am to make your acquaintance and that of this enchanting tearoom, I am curious to know what shared interests we might possess.”
“Ah, possess. Now, if that isn’t decisively going straight for the heart of th
ings, I don’t know
what
is
!” Zander spoke approvingly at Arabel and smiled as the waitress approached them.
Arabel opted for cinnamon apple tea and a strawberry tart and Zander for lemon tea and a cranberry scone. Arabel realized she was both quite hungry and incredibly curious about Zander Cross and his motive for waylaying her for tea and conversation, information.
“I’ve heard of you, of course,” Zander spoke easily, his bright, charming manner completely unaffected.
Zander’s energy seemed to Arabel to be the exact opposite of his hypnotic, magnetic and powerful older brother, Xavier. Zander gave off an impression of lightness, and easygoing flow, but his eyes, when they bored into Arabel’s, spoke of a finely tuned intelligence and a knack for reading energy. Arabel could tell that Zander could see as she did and it amused him to know she knew it. Zander was an intuitive master.
“Well I’ve never heard of you,” Arabel returned the volley, smiling slightly. “One doesn’t hear much of the Gypsy life, here in town.”
“No, we keep to ourselves mostly.” Zander added a drop of honey to his tea and smiled again at their pleasant waitress as she left their baked goods on the table alongside their cups and steaming pots.
“But you, you’re causing quite a stir now in some Gypsy circles! Not only because of your hold on our young Eli,” Zander sent Arabel a mischievously tolerant look, “but also for the things you see and do. I need to ask you about the forked o
ak tree and the wooden shield.”
At Arabel’s blank look, Zander elaborated.
“Xavier shared your insight of Jonty’s whereabouts with me. I saw your bird’s images. I recognized the wooden shield, but we must discern its exact location. It needs to be recovered. As soon as possible. I believe it is a key component in the strange energy infections of late and the rampant tales of possession.”
Although Zander spoke lightly, he reminded Arabel of Eli in the way that when something truly seemed to bother Eli, he appeared to exert more control than ever over his emotions, forcefully working to reign in his personal objections so as to master the situation through a resolved detachment.
“The shield. I had forgotten all about the shield! And the tree,” Arabel exclaimed, surprised.
“Safe to say you’ve had a lot of your mind, yes?”
“Yes, safe to say I’ve been preoccupied.”
“Can your crow take us to the shield?”
“I don’t see why not. He’s very cunning.”
Zander laughed at Arabel’s dry wit, biting heartily into his scone with relish.
“So you know of Jonty’s claims, then?” she asked him. “That he asserts he was taken over by a hostile entity?”
Zander nodded. “A force has been manipulating Gypsies, and assorted others, in The Corvids for quite some time now. We’ve been watching it, keeping ourselves alert for it, but we haven’t quite pinned its source down yet.”
“What does the shield have to do with the hypnotic possessions?” Arabel asked curiously.
“The shield belongs to a secret magical society, one that was formally disbanded many years ago. It is troublesome that their insignia should reappear at this time; it bodes negatively for all of us. If I can see it, however, perhaps I can dismantle its energy.”
Arabel found herself quite liking Zander. He emanated both friendly generosity and warmth of spirit and she found herself feeling completely differently toward him now as opposed to when he had so abruptly startled her by grabbing her on the street. Arabel wondered idly how well Eli knew Zander and she wondered how she had borne her life with its inherently boring flavour before all of these colourful Gypsies had entered her sphere and shaken up the monotony of her existence.
Arabel smiled. “We’ll go see my crow as soon as we’ve had our tea,” she said.
“There is one other matter,” Zander interjected, a short time later, as they finished up the last crumbs of their treats and prepared to leave the tearoom. He paused for a moment, gauging her. Arabel fought back a slight impatience.
“Well?” she finally asked. “What is it?”
Zander composed his jovial face into serious lines. He leaned in toward Arabel and assumed a put-upon voice intended to provide gravitas in regard to the subject matter he wished to discuss.
“Miss Spade, on behalf of the Gypsy Council of Elders - of which I am actually not a part, just a mere mortal messenger- ”, Zander intoned gravely, “we are delighted to exonerate you of any premeditated wrong-doing in the matter of the errant thief, one Jonty Governs, lately of Ravenswood Glen.”
Arabel blew out the breath she’d been holding tightly within her chest. “And Eli?” she asked immediately.
Zander’s face darkened slightly for a mere fraction of an instant. Arabel stiffened involuntarily, seeing his hesitation.
“Must meet yet with the Council and abide by their decision. I am sorry, Arabel, I honestly don’t know what the consequences of his actions will foretell.”
At Arabel’s look of distress, Zander touched her arm briefly in a small gesture of reassurance. “I will speak to my brother on his behalf,” he offered earnestly, all prior joking relinquished from his manner. Zander sipped the last of his tea. “Be content, Miss Spade, my brother Xavier is always fair.”
The door to the tearoom swung open just then and the little brass bells chimed a new arrival. Arabel was both pleased and surprised to see the object of their conversation enter the premises.
Eli looked around and spotted Arabel with Zander immediately. A barely imperceptible look of discomfort passed along the contours of his handsome face and Arabel, seeing it, was quick to spring to her feet and move toward him in delighted greeting.
“Are you alright?” Eli asked immediately as Arabel kissed his cheek and he ran a protective arm around her shoulders. The colours burst to life within her eyelids, stunning her momentarily with their vivacity.
“Yes, quite.” Arabel replied. “Zander just came to ask me about the tree, and the shield, and to tell me I’ve been cleared of all wrong- doing as far as the matter of Jonty goes.”
“Yes, I know, my parents told me. I came to inform you as well, but when I called at your house, Morna said you were at the jailhouse, in interview with the Chief. Ira led me here. I didn’t know you knew about this place. Or that you knew Zander Cross.”
“I didn’t. I met him just now, as I was leaving Chief Constable Bartlin’s offices. Zander brought me here.”
At the mention of his name, Zander strolled up and casually shook Eli’s hand in a friendly welcome.
“Eli, you’ll be joining us then, on our adventure to find the shield?” Zander inquired and Eli nodded.
“Of course,” Eli replied shortly and Arabel felt a frisson of tension pass in the air between the two young men.
Arabel wondered if she’d done anything to cause such an energy to erupt but nothing came to mind. Arabel realized suddenly that Eli was prone to suffer from the same jealousies and insecurities as she herself did. Arabel’s heart swelled momentarily as she found her ego quite happily distracted by the thought of two dashing young men jousting for her affections and then it passed. Arabel remembered all too clearly how she’d felt about Francesca, when she’d wondered at the girl’s history with Eli, and of his potential feelings for the younger girl; she’d been heartsick.
Arabel glanced at Eli. He was frowning slightly, staring at Zander, not quite in control of his emotions. Arabel took Eli’s hand and gave it a hearty squeeze. She opened the door of the tearoom and stepped into the bright light of the snowy street, drawing Eli with her. Ira cawed enthusiastically upon see
ing Arabel and landed eagerly
on her shoulder. Ira nuzzled into Arabel’s neck and she laughed.
“Thank you Ira, for leading Eli to me,” Arabel said appreciatively and the crow seemed to wink at her.
“Now, we will need horses,” Arabel remarked to Eli and Zander as the crow passed her the mental imagery of the circuitous path to where the crooked oak tree and the oddly emblazoned shield had last been spotted.
“I’ve Jovah just over here,” Eli said, pointing to a public paddock where the black stallion waited patiently.
“And I’ve a horse just across,” Zander pointed to a sleek Palomino across the street.
“We’ll start at St. Martin’s Bog,” Arabel decided, “and search thoroughly there. The shield seems to be just a short distance from where the body of Indra Northrup was found.”
Their plan arranged, Zander wandered across the street to his mount and Eli helped Arabel
up onto
Jovah’s strong back. A strange silence fell and Arabel felt distinctly uncomfortable, as if she ought to be apologizing for something, but she just wasn’t sure what it was she had done to feel badly about.
“Is everything alright?” Arabel finally asked Eli as the silence stretched out a moment longer than she could stand.
Eli smiled at Arabel but his eyes still appeared troubled. He climbed upon Jovah’s back and Arabel wrapped her arms around his waist. Arabel leaned into Eli’s back, resting her cheek against his jacket for a moment. Eli turned around in the saddle, slightly, so their eyes could meet.