Protected by Stone (A Paranormal Romance Novel) (17 page)

Hm. I don't know anything about gardening.
Imagining the overgrown greenhouse becoming tamed by my hands was intriguing. Especially when I pictured Grault's reaction.
He did say it was his favorite room.

That shouldn't have influenced me. After his casual rebuke over my invite into town for errands, I was sure Grault wanted to keep our relationship strictly business related.

Wait, relationship?
Quickly, I smacked my cheeks.
What am I thinking? It must be all this dust, ugh.

I needed to keep moving. Otherwise, my mind was too happy to go down one of two roads: creepy grandmother sylph love, or weird thoughts about my so-called protector.

Is he my protector? Is that an actual job title?
Leaning the duster into the closet, I tugged out a bucket full of gardening tools. I didn't know how to use them, but I could certainly recognize them.
Is it what Tessa hired him for? I don't know how they met, what he did for her, any of it.

Considering I liked less and less of what I learned, I wondered if ignorance was better.

In Tessa's study, I found a few books about gardens. She seemed to like reading about the stuff, if the size of the tomes was an indicator. Gathering up a few, I tucked them under my arm. I was about to leave, but my eye was drawn back to the photo book I'd left on her desk.

No, another time.

Carrying everything was difficult, but it was getting up the courage to go down the left hallway that proved the real struggle. The memory of my last exploration, that tiny door chasing me around, was very clear.

Stop it, just go forward. It'll be fine.
It wasn't sound logic. I was relieved when my steps brought me down to the end of the passage without any issues.

Breathing in deep, my pulse flickered at the sight of the greenhouse. It was as beautiful as the first time.

Well, slightly less beautiful with the missing shirtless figure of Grault. His back gleaming, those intricate and alluring tattoos of wings stark on his snowy flesh.
Stop it, brain,
I chided myself.

Setting down the bucket and books, I wondered where to begin. The room was quite large, and almost completely round. The green glass above made it hazy like a rainforest. Vines criss-crossed over the small bridge, clogging the stream.

Flowers were foreign to me, but I was sure the thorny things poking up all around were bad.

I need to be careful before I wreck something.
Sitting on the grass, I opened a book and began to read.

When I was confident enough about what plants to yank, I set up the bucket and grabbed out some gloves.

It was time to kill some weeds.

The concept turned out to be easier said than done. Grunting, soaked in a dirty sheen, I tore out thorny plant-life by the bunches.

Being covered in filth is starting to become old-hat,
I thought. Bracing my foot on a rock, I yanked out more weeds.

The stream was a mess, slime clinging to where water tried to pour from the small stagnant pool. With the long rake I'd brought, I scraped away at it until I had a thick pile of greenish, noodle things.

Making a face, I scooped those into my full bucket. “I should have brought a trash bag,” I sighed.

My second trip out into the hallway, I began exploring the closets for other tools. Most had nothing useful, but one had more than just the big garbage bags I was seeking.

It also had a ladder.

Dragging the contraption into the greenhouse, I leaned it on the wall. It became a game for me, using the long mop to get every smudge off the glass above.

My shoulders were screaming at me by the time I was satisfied. Climbing down, I smiled up at the sparkling window in delight. “I'd call that a good job. Yup. Good job, Farra,” I complimented myself.

The throb in my ankle demanded I take a break. Chugging from a glass of water, I debated finding the medicine from Dirk.
Not yet, what if it makes me drowsy like the other stuff?

The room was really looking better. In my time there, I'd realized that the water was moved around by a little wooden tube. It would fill up, then tip over, setting everything in perpetual motion.

Its 'clonking' sounds were pleasant, I found myself sitting on the bridge to just enjoy the calmness.

The sun was high above, warming my face, when Grault spoke up and broke the peace. “Miss Blooms, this place, you...”

Blinking, I rubbed my eyes and looked his way. He stood on the grass just off the bridge. My feet were dangling over the side, bare toes drifting in the cool water. “I what?” I asked, suddenly worried I'd made a mistake.

“You're amazing,” he breathed out, gawking openly at the work I'd done.

I wondered if every tooth of mine was showing. “I'm what?”

“Amazing,” he laughed, moving to step onto the foot-bridge. “You did
all
of this, by yourself?”

“Correct,” I said, allowing myself to be smug. “And no magic. So you like it?”

He let his ebony eyes fall on me, the centers warm. It sent a trickle up my spine. “I love it. But why this, why now?”

I didn't know the answer, myself, until he asked the question. “Because you saved me last night.”
I needed to pay you back somehow.
Flushing pink, I looked into the stream. “Er, I mean, it's also my job. Isn't it?”

The bridge shook when he sat beside me. It reminded me of last night, our bodies almost touching on the kitchen floor. “Yes, it's your job. But still... thank you.”

“You don't need to thank me for doing my job,” I teased, wondering if throwing his words back at him was too much.

Grault blinked, his mouth partially open. To my utter shock, he wasn't just
not
offended... he laughed.

“What?” I asked, trying to catch his eye, “what is it?”

“Miss Blooms,” he said, holding his stomach like it hurt. “You're just... you're interesting.”

“Interesting,” I mused, “is that good or bad?”

In the green haze of the glass, his eyes were a summer storm. “I haven't figured that out yet.”

I was overtly aware of our closeness. If I'd leaned over, I could have touched his cheek. I could have felt those serious lips that seemed hesitant to ever smile. I could have...

Whoa whoa, slow down!
I thought in a panic.
What is all this? Do I actually... am I falling for Grault? Is falling the right word?

Oh gosh, I'm sitting here, saying nothing.

Now he's staring at me!

“Miss Blooms?” he said softly, sending my heart tumbling into the stream. “Are you alright? You look very red.” His gentle fingers touched my forehead, his skin satiny.

That was too much for me. “I—ah—well, yes, I'm fine! Really fine!” In a hurry to prove it, to break away, to do
anything
but sit there and stew in my confusing emotions, I tried to leap to my feet. Instantly, my ankle cried out in dismay. My own voice was soon to follow. “Ah! Oh, dammit!”

“Miss Blooms!” In a flash he stood, supporting me with one arm. The texture of his coat was rough on my neck. “Is it your ankle again?”

My ears were pounding with blood. I wished the pain was worse, it might distract me from the scent of him in my nose.
Vanilla? Grass? He smells so good.
“I'm fine, I just put too much weight on it.”

Sighing, he helped me off the bridge. I could walk, but I wasn't... ready to let him know that.

Not yet.

“You shouldn't have gone into town today,” he chided me. “It was too much too soon.”

His admonishment made me pause. That, at least, helped me focus away from his warmth and his strength. “Funny you'd say that, seeing as how I did ask a certain big, healthy guy to go with me.”

That arm went stiff around me. Gently, he guided me so I could sit on the ground. Letting me go, he took a single step back. It felt like he'd jumped a mile. “Miss Blooms, I told you I couldn't.”

“I heard you say it the first few times, yeah.” Touching my ankle, I rolled my trousers up. I wondered if the cold water had helped the swelling. “You shouldn't lecture me without offering an alternative, next time.”

“I believed you when you said you were fine,” he muttered. “Maybe I should call on that doctor after all.”

Tugging my pants down, I shot him a quick look. “I saw him when I was in the village.”

Grault stood in silence, perhaps considering my bit of news. “I see. Did he give you medicine?”

“Medicine... and information,” I added softly.

His eyebrows knotted together. “What do you mean?”

Faced with explaining what I'd learned, I felt myself growing uneasy. Dirk had acted like Tessa had wanted it all kept a secret.
But it's about me, now. Not her.
“He told me what the thing in the lake was.”

“He did? How could he know?” Grault's voice cut with an edge.

His anger drew my attention, as well as my confusion. “Tessa told him.”

Turning abruptly, he began gathering up all the tools I'd brought into the garden. “I see. She never informed me.”

“
I
can inform you,” I said, squinting at him. “He said she called it a sylph. It's—”

“I know what a sylph is.” He offered me my shoes from where I'd left them by the bridge.

“Then why don't
you
tell me?”

The sneakers dangled, a failure at tempting me to move. “Sylphs are nature spirits, that's the best way to explain it. They're forces of nature.”

Taking my shoes, I wiggled my toes into them. After I tugged them on, he reached down to help me back up. I didn't take his hand. “Then, do you know what it wanted with me?”

Ever patient, he kept his fingers extended. He would wait until I was ready. “To drown you, would be my guess.”

I lifted my hand, but still didn't take hold. “But do you know
why?
”

My companion was pure stone. “I don't.”

I felt so very, very tired. “I do. Because it thinks I'm Tessa. It wants to drown me, the way it tried to drown her.” The words felt heavy on my tongue. “She
loved
that thing in the lake. A thing that just wanted to kill her, probably for no real reason other than it could! She loved a monster.”

Grault winced. It was there and gone, lightning in the sky. There was no moment to delve deeper on the meaning, on why he would look so hurt. He grabbed my hand, lifting me carefully. “It doesn't matter. All we have to worry about is keeping you away from the sylph.”

On wobbling legs, I looked up at him. “How will we do that? Lock me away in this house, far from its creepy fishy face?”

It was meant as a joke, but in my center, I was worried he would say 'yes.'

“Of course not, Miss Blooms.” He held my shoulders, steadying me with his body, as well as his voice. “I already told you.
I'll
keep you safe. Do you believe that?”

We stared at each other. I wondered what he saw reflected in my eyes. “Weirdly, I actually do. Something about you seems... strong. Genuine.”

He dug his fingers into me, ever the gentle giant. I thought he'd say more, but instead he let me go. It tugged at me somewhere deep, having his shadow roll over my body. “Let's get you that medicine, and some food.”

“Food,” I repeated. My eyes shot open wide. “Oh, dammit! I left roasts in the oven!”

Grault was able to stop me from running down the halls... but only just barely.

****

T
he medicine helped more than expected. It didn't make me sleepy, either, which I was initially grateful for.

After dinner, as the night wore on and I was left to my buzzing mind, some sleepy-drugs would have been welcome.

Sighing, I tossed and turned on my bed. I had too much energy. It was as if, each time I closed my eyes, a new thought would burst to life and demand my attention.

Am I doing enough here for everyone? Am I doing enough for myself? Was Dirk really in love with Tessa, and did she never think of him that way? Why did she fall for a monster? Does Grault like me, and do I even like him?

And where the hell is Qui'nxious?

Grumbling, I threw the blankets aside and paced my room. I clearly was getting no rest. Gripping Tessa's lantern tight, I let it guide me down the stairs.

The house wasn't exactly quiet. The wood creaked, groaning like something was taking in slow breaths. Again, I was reminded of some huge beast. The idea wasn't great at settling my nerves.

Tugging my long cotton shirt tight, I didn't know what my target was. Arriving in Tessa's study made it clear.

Settling into the plush chair behind the desk, I looked around like it was the first time. In the glow of my light, every shadow seemed sharper.

There were many things in that room, I knew I hadn't explored everything. Right then, though, I had one goal.

Flipping open the photo book, I scanned the images one by one. It wasn't obvious to me what I was looking for. It was just a collection of memories.
My mind is so bogged down with things, maybe some new insight will help.

I found more photos of Tessa with her dog, each of them cutting deep in a new way. Knowing her loved pet had died trying to save her made every happy picture more tragic.

It was a particularly happy one of them, both swimming in the lake, that made my skin prickle. Pulling it free, I flipped it over on a hunch. Like the other photo I'd seen, this one had writing, too.

'Playing at the lake with Bizzy,' it read.

Bizzy. So that's her dog's name.
I thought about what I'd read the other day.
She thought of Bizzy when she was trying to light up those bulbs. I wonder why that would help?

Further in, I found photos of Tessa as a teenager. In one, she sat with a scrawny little boy, the two of them eating watermelon together. I had to look again, and still, I wasn't convinced until I read the inscription. 'Summertime with Dirk!'

Wow, he's so young here. What was he, twelve? How old is Tessa here, fifteen? No wonder she didn't think of him the same way.

The first photo that showed the house, as well as a young Tessa on the lap of what had to be her mother, shocked me.