Chapter Eleven

Tuesday after school, I called Patty to see if she needed anything, if she was up for a visit, and she said she needed nothing and to come on over.

I’d thought about stopping to get flowers or something, but when I got there I was glad I didn’t. I’d have bet she didn't own a vase that wasn't full of flowers. They were everywhere, and she said most of them were from Stu.

She loved it. "It’s like a private garden. I only wish…" Her voice trailed off, and I knew she'd been about to say she wished there'd been no need for a garden at all. I wrapped my arms around her, and she cried a little before pulling away and reaching for a tissue. "I’m sorry."

"Oh, Patty, you’ve got nothing to be sorry for." Even if she thought she did, which is sort of what Stu had said.

She blew her nose rather juicily and then said, "I haven’t had a chance to thank you. I might have died, too, if you hadn’t been so close, and if you hadn’t come looking for me."

"It was really Todd Swazey, from the village. He’s the one who got the door of the car out of the way."

"Stu told me you were there. In the village, I mean. Are you sure that's a good idea?"

This, from Patty? Really? "Patty, for crying out loud, they saved your life! Might have saved mine, too, because the tornado was really close to where I was, and they have an underground shelter they took me into. And I wouldn't have been so close to your car if I hadn't been there. There's nothing dangerous there, Patty." Just in time I stopped talking before pointing out that she'd gone there, herself, for that love potion. She didn't reply, just got a kind of pursed look on her face. Time to change the subject. "Anyway, can I ask about something else?"

"Of course."

"Um, how is Mary doing? Since—you know. Is she okay?"

Patty shook her head. "Not really. She's in pretty bad shape. I—I can't really talk about it. But thanks for asking."

"I get it. So... now that you and Stu are back together, does that mean he's changed at all about the gay issue?"

"We're engaged again, conditionally. I’ve told Stu I want him to put some effort into understanding what things are like for you. He needs to convince me that if you were our child, he would love you as much as I would."

I was thinking that right now, he needed to convince me he loved me at all, even as a brother, when someone turned the front door lock. We both looked that way, and Stu came in, a loaded grocery bag in his arms.

To me he said, "I didn’t expect you to be here." I couldn't tell much from his tone. He went into the kitchen and put something into the fridge.

"And I didn’t know you’d be here in the middle of the day," I said, loud enough to carry.

Patty said, "You two are not avoiding each other, I hope."

"Not exactly," I told her.

Stu came into the living room and kissed Patty’s forehead. He took a seat in a wooden rocking chair, looked at me, and said, "I, uh, I’ve been reading that stuff."

Knowing he meant the research I'd printed, I waited, but he didn't say more. So I prodded, "And?"

"And I’m trying, Jesse, I really am. It just all seems so wrong. I can’t get to where it doesn’t kind of make me sick."

"Stuart Bryce!" Patty’s head snapped up.

"No, it’s okay," I told her. "I don’t want him lying to me." I wanted to be really clear with Stu. I searched the ceiling, trying to remember something I’d read online about how a gay person might stand up for their rights without being antagonistic. "Okay, so when you and Dad say you want me to change, you’re asking me to be like you. That’s not bad, on the surface, but here’s the thing. You’re really asking me to live a life that isn’t mine. I need to live my life, not yours. If you can see how that makes sense, all by itself, whether I’m gay or not, then maybe you can get closer to feeling like it’s okay for me to be who I am. But, Stu, I bet it’s always going to feel wrong for you, because you’re not gay. What you need to remember is that who you are feels just as wrong to me."

"And that’s what I can’t get."

"Then I guess you’ll just have to believe me. I guess you’ll just have to trust me."

Patty looked at him with a tilt to her head, like she didn't want to be confrontational. Her voice was gentle. "Can you do that, Stu?"

He rubbed his face with his hands. "It’s not like I think you’re making it up. But—I don’t know. I’m trying. I’m really trying."

"That’s enough for now, then," I told him. "Just don’t give up on me, and I won’t give up on you." I decided it was time to leave, even though I’d hoped to have more of a conversation with Patty. But with Stu here, that was too difficult. "Patty, let me know if you need anything."

"I will. Thanks."

Enough for now, I'd told Stu. But it wasn't enough for the long haul. More waiting for someone else.

Ivy called me after dinner to tell me the town meeting was scheduled for the Sunday almost two weeks from now. Seven o'clock at the church function hall. It would be announced in the paper, and her parents would call church members directly. She must have helped write the announcement, because the next thing she told me sounded practiced: Her father would also be in touch with the ministers of the other two churches in town as well as the rabbi at the synagogue to make sure they knew about it and to ask for their support and participation.

I asked if she'd be there, and she said yes, but added that her mother thought it unlikely that there would be a lot of non-adults there. I told her I'd be there and that I'd be willing to bet the other TVA members would go, as well.

The idea of this town meeting made me nervous. As far as I knew, I had no role to play, but when I remembered how Ronan had described what had happened when Eleanor had tried to speak to the mayor, it seemed as though anything could happen.

As I pictured Reverend Gilman on the small stage in the function hall, it hit me that I'd heard nothing from him about the stone circle repair. He'd said he knew where the stones were, and suddenly I wondered if I could find them. I opened my laptop and went to Google Earth. I scoured the area south and east and west of the village, looking for small clearings. One or two that I found were just open areas in the woods. But then I found one that seemed to be the top of a small hill, and there were little dots on it. Zooming in as much as possible, I decided that was it. I'd found the stone circle.

 

 

At the end of our last morning class Wednesday, Griffin approached me. We walked out of the classroom together, which—despite the success of the TVA—was pretty much a first, because it was just the two of us, not the whole group.

"Sit with me at lunch?" he asked. "I have something you'll like."

We chose a table off to the side, but we still got a lot of looks, some uglier than others.

Griffin handed me an envelope that had already been opened. It was addressed to Eleanor, but when I pulled the letter out, that was addressed to Staci. I shot a glance at Griffin's smiling face and then devoured the letter with my eyes.

Dearest Staci,

It's been nearly ten years since I saw you. In my mind, you're a smart, talented, stunningly beautiful young woman, and it saddens me so much to know that you grew that way without my being able to witness it.

I don't know whether you know about all the letters I wrote to you and your mom. But she was so angry with me for the choice I made that she returned them, unopened. Eventually I stopped trying.

Now I find that another avenue of communication is open, and in case your mother is still as angry as ever, I'm writing directly to you, because you deserve to know what happened and why.

The marriage I called off would not have been a good one. Jeffrey was a good man, certain to be a good provider and a good husband for someone. Just not for me. I have no idea what he's like today, but once we were engaged I had the chance to see how very rigid his attitudes were, how very judgmental he was, and how very intolerant he was of anyone who thought or believed or lived differently from how he thought things should be. This is the purpose of the engagement period: to see if you're as compatible as you need to be. Our engagement had started to fall apart before the day of my flat tire.

I won't say I fell in love with Zayne at first sight, though there was a definite spark. At first there was the thrill of having a young man from the mysterious village stop to help me, but that changed quickly into something more substantial. He probably could have changed my tire in ten minutes, but instead he worked very slowly, stopping frequently, because once we started to talk it was obvious we were both cut from the same cloth. We had so very much to talk about.

I've heard that there was a rumor that the villagers did something to manipulate my feelings and actions. Nothing could be further from the truth. If anything, they met my interest in Zayne with suspicion at first, and it was made quite clear to me that if we were together my life would change radically. And what they meant was not that they would consume me in some way. No. What they meant was that my own people would reject me. And that's what happened.

For my benefit alone, Zayne sought out another Pagan community where we could live, far enough away from my former life that I wouldn't be constantly reminded of the rejection, constantly having to face people who saw me as just this side of the wife of Satan. That's why we moved away.

I'm happy, Staci. I'm so, so happy. Zayne and I have two children, a boy and girl, and our community is thriving. We have excellent relations with our non-Pagan neighbors; in fact, we don't even live in a separate area as the people in the Himlen village must do.

I hope you can see your way to writing back. I'd love to know anything about your life you'd care to tell me. Losing contact with you was probably the worst part of my exile. I would so much love to hear that you still consider me your —

Loving Aunt Donna

There was a mailing address, an email, and a phone number.

This was exactly what I'd hoped for! It could not have been more perfect.

There was a second, short note.

Jesse,

I can't thank you enough for taking this step. Please accept my heartfelt gratitude for your courage, your open-mindedness, and your love.

Donna Downey

Griffin said, "We're all cool here with giving it to Staci. What's your next step?"

Oddly, I hadn't thought that far ahead. All that time waiting, and I hadn't used it very well. "I guess I can't just go up to Staci and hand this to her. She doesn't even know that I know about her aunt, let alone that I reached out to her."

"Maybe start with Brad?"

"Good idea." I texted Brad to meet for a few minutes after school, out by the athletic field. Then I told Griffin about the date for the town meeting and asked if he would be going.

"Oh, Eleanor's all over that. Lots of folks from the village will be there, including Ronan's parents. Ronan won't, I expect, but yeah, I'll be there. And Selena, though Parker probably won't. Wren and her mom will, and the Fishers, but not Violet. Todd will go, and—"

I laughed. "Okay, that's what I wanted to know. Ivy and I are asking the TVA members today. I already got to Phil, and he'll be there whether his folks go or not."

"Will your parents be there?"

"Good question. I think my mom will. But I'm not saying anything at home about it until Reverend Gilman calls them. I'm still on my dad's shit list, and I'm not sure where I stand with Stu."

 

 

When Brad showed up at the appointed spot, he wasn't alone. I watched from my seat low in the bleachers as he and Staci approached, which gave me a little time to think about how to modify the script I'd been working on in my head all afternoon. I was determined to go forward despite this curve ball.

Staci eyed me suspiciously, like she thought I might lash out or something. I nodded at her like I wasn't at all surprised to see her.

"S'up?" Brad opened.

"Did you happen to mention to Staci that we talked about her Aunt Donna?"

Staci's head snapped toward Brad. His voice a little threatening, he said, "Jesse..."

"Wait. It's actually good, really." I reached into my book bag and pulled out Donna's letter, which I'd already typed into a file on my laptop in case Staci got really pissed off and tore this one up. I decided to talk directly to Staci. I wasn't the one who changed things up for this meeting, but I was going to be the one to take advantage of it.

"Staci, I know you've been given this idea that the people in the village do things to interfere with us, here in the town. And you think they did something to get your aunt to break off her engagement and run off with one of them. But it wasn't quite like that." I stopped, wracking my brain for where to go next.

Staci just glared. Brad said, "What's your point, Jesse?" His tone was not friendly. He moved closer to Staci, protectively.

To Staci, I said, "You know Ivy and I started the Town Village Alliance. We want things to be friendlier between us and the village, and we know there's nothing about them we need to be afraid of. I asked Brad to join, but he's loyal to you, and he knew how you felt about what happened with your aunt. So he said no. Anyway, if what you'd been told was right, that would be pretty bad, and maybe it would mean Ivy and I were doing the wrong thing. So I decided to see what I could find out."

I handed her the letter without the envelope; I didn't think she'd like seeing Eleanor's name. She looked at it, glared at it, really, before slowly reaching out to take it. Brad moved behind Staci so he could read along with her. When she finished reading, she let it fall to the ground. Brad picked it up.

"This proves nothing," she told me. "They could have forced her to write this."

"Well, I have to say, I've gotten to know some folks in the village pretty well, and the way Donna describes them jives with what I've learned. I even know of someone from the town who went to the village for a love potion and was turned away."

She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned onto one leg, her face stony.

To Staci, Brad said, "Jeff married someone else. They're friends with my folks. I don't like them much. Maybe Donna's right. Maybe they wouldn't have been a good couple."

As soon as I saw that Brad was coming over to my side, I was tempted to join forces and push on Staci. But something told me I should back off and let Brad take over. So I said, "Anyway, I'm convinced the TVA is on the right track. And I really hope you connect with your aunt again." Nodding to Brad, I walked around them and toward the road, listening as I went. Neither of them spoke until I was out of earshot. I'd just have to trust the Goddess. And Brad.

 

 

Friday night after dinner I was up in my room watching Captain America The Winter Soldier on my PC when I got a Skype invitation from Brad.

"That was a ballsy move, dude."

"I know. I was gonna talk to you first, but there she was, with you. So I had to take a chance. It bothered me a lot that she had all that false information about her own aunt."

He nodded. Then, "She's not ready to drink the Kool-Aid just yet. But—how would you like to be the canary in the mine?"

"Meaning...?"

"Come rockhounding with us Saturday. She's never been, so she asked me to take her. And after your bold move this afternoon, she said to bring you along so she could get to know you better. Those were her words, but I get the feeling she wants to make sure you haven't gone over to the dark side."

"Rockhounding will prove that one way or the other?"

"I think it's being alone, just the three of us, someplace where if you glow in the dark she'll be able to see that. And I'll be there to protect her."

I wasn't sure whether to laugh or not, but in the end I couldn't help it. Brad chuckled, too. I said, "Okay, then. You're on. I'll be at my most satanic so she can see how bad it can get."

When we rang off, I felt happier than I would have expected. Maybe I wouldn't so much gain my best friend back as I'd gain a sister. I liked that idea.

 

 

I picked them up at Staci's in my truck and drove south; the place Brad had in mind wasn't car-friendly, and his dad was using their truck today. I teased him that the only reason he'd asked me to come along was my wheels.

Staci, between us on the pull-down seat, was pretty quiet. Brad and I chatted on and off until he pointed me off to the east, then to the south, and then east again onto a dirt road I’d never been on before. We rumbled along this for at least a few miles before Brad pointed to the left, toward an even more obscure track. "Think this baby can handle it?"

I braked and looked as far ahead between the trees as I could. "How far are we going? Have we crossed into Arkansas?"

"Yup. Go another half a mile, maybe. It doesn’t get any worse than what you see here. My dad’s truck was fine."

That sounded like a challenge, so I pulled forward slowly, then a little faster but not much, until Brad pointed to a spot off to the side that barely looked like a pullout.

Brad and I each took one of the two packs he'd brought, and he led the way down a path that was almost indiscernible, but it led very soon to a massive outcropping of rock. No caves today, I gathered. No chance to assess the degree of my phosphorescence.

Brad took the lead. "There’s a few ways to tackle something like this." He swept an arm wide, taking in the length of the outcropping from where it started on the left, at about knee height, to where it went steeply uphill to the right. In places it was as high as, maybe, forty feet. He pointed to the right, to the top of the tallest section. I saw a kind of opening there, and there was a depression at the top that turned into a very dangerous-looking, not-quite-path down part of the rock wall.

"That’s one option," he said, "but it ain’t for the faint of heart. I did bring a rope in case anyone wants to try it there. You’ll have to tie it onto a tree at the top and then around yourself. I can show you how. Or," and he waved his arm to the left, "you can just meander along the ground here and see what you can find. In that case, you start where we’re standing, to get the overall picture of how the hill is formed, what different layers you can see, that sort of thing. Then you get up real close and personal, inches away, and start chipping at something you think you want, or that you think might expose something you want."

He pulled a few things out of the pack he'd carried from the truck. Head down, eyes on the inside of the pack, he said, "Jesse’s already had this lesson before, but since he’s not very bright I’ll go through it again, for both of you." Staci smiled at that, the first smile I'd seen today.

Holding up a strap-like item, Brad put it on like a belt. "This is a pick holster." He lifted a tool and held it where Staci and I could see it. "This is a hammer pick, two tools in one. It’s all one piece, so the head can’t fly off." He settled it into the holster on his belt and picked up something else. "Chisel." Another item: "Goggles, so you don’t get rock chips in your eyes. I didn't bring hard hats today, but if we were going into caves we’d use them."

Another dive into the pack resulted in a handful of chisels in different sizes and styles. Brad pointed toward the pack I'd carried from the truck. "My dad’s equipment is in there. It’s all the same stuff, only fewer chisels. They come in different sizes. We just need to decide how to share all of it."

Staci asked, "Are we looking for anything in particular?"

We all turned toward the rock face, and I noticed a thin, black line that sloped down to the left, following the slope of the hillside. "What's that vein?"

"That black vein is obsidian. It's not actually a rock. It's a kind of natural glass. Comes in a few different colors, all dark. One kind, very rare, has a kind of opalescence on it. This here is kind of an unusual formation for obsidian." He went on for a while about how he thinks it got here, using terms like lava and igneous rock.

Staci decided she wanted to try to chisel out some of the obsidian, so we carried our tools close to the rock face and followed the black line down to the left until it was about chest height to Brad. He demonstrated how to work above and below the vein to expose the glass without damaging it, and Staci and I both took tools and worked at it a few feet apart. It was slow going with not much to show for our labors, so after a while we decided to take a break and dig into the lunch basket Staci had put together for us.

I was doing my best to appear as normal as possible, as un-village-like as possible, to put Staci's fears to rest, but she headed right for the proverbial lion's den.

"So, tell me about this club of yours, Jesse. I've heard some pretty strange things about it."

"Really? Like what?"

She shrugged. "You know. The usual stuff. You chant strange words in dim light and stick pins in dolls." She took a bite of her sandwich.

I stared at her, totally in shock, and then I started to laugh. I laughed so hard I couldn't eat or drink for maybe two minutes. It must have been contagious, because both Staci and Brad gave in and laughed along with me.

As soon as I could, I gave her a realistic report of what went on in our meetings, and why. "Maybe you don't know this, but Ivy Gilman—yes, the reverend's daughter—is dating Griffin Holyoke."

Her eyes widened. "Does the reverend know?"

"He does. Griffin asked him for permission."

"Shit." Brad's deep voice spoke for both of them. "That's a development."

"You do know," I told Staci, "that Reverend Gilman is involved with the club? He comes to our meetings. So I guess if anything other-worldly were to happen, he'd be there to perform an exorcism." I winked at Staci to let her know I was pulling her leg. She obliged me my shoving on my shoulder in a friendly way.

This actually might be working.

After we ate, Brad stretched his long frame out on the blanket Staci had brought, and she curled up against him. I doubted they intended to leave me out in the cold, but that's kind of what it felt like. And I know they didn't mean for it to hurt, but it did; it made me want Ronan with a sudden, searing kind of burn I hadn't felt in a few days. I decided to strike out on my own.

I shouldered Mr. Everett's pack and said, "Where's that rope, Brad?" He scowled at me like he wasn't sure what I meant. "I’ll need it when I get to the top of that thing."

He pointed to where he'd left it. "Do you know how to wrap it around your waist and your thighs so you don’t kill yourself if you fall?"

I grabbed the coil of rope and my arm sagged; it weighed more than I'd expected. "I’m sure I’ll figure it out." I grinned, saluted, and headed toward the lower end so I could get onto the top of the outcropping there and follow the slope up to the higher part.

"Jesse," Brad called, "you be careful. I don’t wanna have to carry you outta here."

I was breathing hard by the time I got to where Brad had pointed. Gazing down from the edge, I could see where other rockhounds had been; there was even a boot print, so it couldn't have been very long ago. This wasn't the spot for me, then; I wanted a road less traveled. I resettled the pack and kept going. Below me, Brad called, "Where are you going?"

"Just scouting around. Call me if you need to." I figured, you know, give the love birds some time alone, away from me, away from where their happiness made me aware of that hollow spot where I wanted Ronan to be. I reminded myself I was doing this for Ronan. For us. I was building bridges, spanning gaps, mending fences—pick a metaphor.

The land was level for a while, and underfoot it got more grassy than rocky. I had no idea where I was going, but my mood had turned to a kind of self-pity that I didn't like but that somehow I felt the need to allow, at least for a while.

After about fifteen minutes it occurred to me that I wasn't following anything like a trail, and I could easily get lost out here. I turned and found a sight-line to where I came from and took a mental picture of the surroundings. Just to be on the safe side, I hung the rope coil in the limb of one of the few trees around there so it would point the way on my return.

Before long, the slope headed downward again, and I followed it for want of anything better to do. Just ahead there was another rise, another outcropping. I circled around to the left of it for no particular reason, and the next thing I saw, on my right, was a cave. It wasn't huge, but it wasn't tiny.

I froze, trying to remember what Brad had done to be sure he wasn’t about to get ambushed by a cougar. I couldn't have the cougar I wanted—not yet, anyway—and the others were dangerous in their own way. So I checked the ground for scat, and sure enough there was a little pile of hard turds over to one side of where I stood. I didn't know whether the size was more appropriate for a bobcat or a cougar, but by the time I poked it apart with a stick I was sure it was a carnivore. There were tiny bones in it.

Crouching near the ground, I looked around, watching for any sign of movement. Nothing, and no sounds except a little breeze in the grasses and the few trees nearby. I looked back at the scat. What would a bobcat eat? Mice? Voles, maybe? What about a cougar? A cat that big would probably not even notice a tiny rodent, and I really thought its turds would be much larger. So this was most likely bobcat scat. As long as I didn't startle a bobcat, I should be okay, right? I dug into the pack and felt a huge sense of relief when I found a can of pepper spray.

I looked all around me and then at the cave. Then I picked up a few rocks and started throwing them, calling out nonsense sounds. Then I waited: nothing. Closer to the cave, I heaved rocks and called out again, then closer, and closer still, until I was right at the mouth of the thing. It was maybe three feet high at the highest point. I hollered into it and heard a bit of an echo, nothing more. A few heaved rocks later, and I was feeling like I could actually go into it.

I dug into the pack again, and although there was no hard hat, there was a headlamp, and goggles, and leather work gloves. I hung the hammer pick from the belt holster, fit the headlamp onto my skull, put the gloves back into the pack, and then inched my way into the cave, dragging the pack along behind me.

I was not the first person in here, either. There were signs of picking and hammering and chiseling all around me. But maybe I could get farther back into the cave than they had. It got narrower and lower the farther in I went, and before long I was belly-crawling into crevices that would have been completely black if not for the headlamp. I flipped over onto my back in one of those crevices, and looked around.

It was gorgeous in here. Everywhere I looked I saw flashes of light reflecting off of tiny projections, tiny little teeth. There was nothing large, nothing I could see that was worth digging at, but the sparkles fascinated me. I lay there, transfixed, letting the beauty fill me. It was almost like the night sky at Samhain, that diamond-studded cloak overhead.

Eventually, moving slowly, I inched my way out of that crevice and backed out to where I could follow a different one. Back on my belly, I worked my way into another crevice, grabbing the rock on either side with my hands to help move myself forward.

Suddenly something tore at the back of my right hand. I strained my neck turning it to try and see what had happened, and there was blood there. Not a lot, but enough to notice. I scanned the side of the crevice where the pain had happened, and there was a sharp point of something sticking out. Must have been that. Should have put the gloves on before coming in here.

I backed out carefully just far enough to get a better look at that point, and when I did, I knew I have to have it. It was a quartz point, like one of the ones in that large cluster of Brad's, but smaller, and there was something dark on one side. Working slowly and carefully, I got out a couple of chisels, put on the gloves and the goggles, and holding the pick near the head I tapped oh, so gently at the rock around the point, hoping there might be even more of the stuff I could pull out. Maybe this tooth was part of a cluster.

I guess it takes more than just listening to Brad’s explanations to do a good job of this, and in the end I didn't get any more than the bloodthirsty tooth. It was about an inch and a half long, just over half an inch thick, and shining the headlamp at it I could see that in addition to that black streak along the side, there were very tiny lines of black inside the tooth, all going different directions. Too bad it wasn't clear like Brad's, but it was still mine. My find, my tooth.

Once I was back in the larger part of the cave, I went back into the pack and found a plastic storage container with a soft cloth inside. I wrapped the tooth in the cloth, but then I jammed it into my pocket, not into the pack. Not sure why, but I didn't feel like doing a show-and-tell with Brad and Staci. I could always give the cloth back to him another time, maybe even without him knowing I'd taken it.

Outside the cave again, pack on the ground at my feet, I was looking around trying to decide where to go next when I heard my phone ring. Ronan? I grabbed for it so fast I nearly dropped it.

It was Brad. "Hey, Jesse, where are you, man? We’re about done here. Kind of frustrating, and Staci's ready to go home."

"Yeah, sorry about that. I’ll head back now. Maybe ten minutes?"

On the trek back, something stirred inside me, something that didn't feel good. Mentally I chipped away at it as I walked, chiseling around the edges to get a good look at it, to see if it was really something substantial. Suddenly it revealed itself. And I knew that I had been hiding it from myself, deep in some subterranean cavern.

It was doubt. Doubt that all my efforts would change Ronan's mind. Doubt that we'd ever be alone in the treehouse again. Doubt that anything would change between his people and mine, doubt that anything I could ever do would make any difference at all.

I feared that this love affair with Ronan had lived only long enough to cause me a world of hurt before it died a premature death. Fear that this was the only love affair I was likely to have for years. Maybe, if I managed to get into college, or if I managed to get far enough away from home for some other reason, I’d be able to be myself someplace. And maybe then I’d be able to find someone to love. Someone who’d be able to love me the same way.

But it wouldn't be Ronan. It wouldn't be my fascinating, exciting, consuming Cougar.

I was breathing hard, almost gasping, and not from exertion. Suddenly I was on my knees. I held my breath to avoid crying. I squeezed my eyes shut and craned my neck to hold my face up to the sky.

All my life I'd felt broken, or defective. I was a total disappointment to my father and brother, and source of worry for my mother. And in a couple of weeks Ronan had made me feel whole again. New. Fully myself. Even if I found someone else to love, how could I ever hope for that kind of feeling again?

I took a few shuddering breaths and then let out a yell that might have reached as far as Brad and Staci. Or maybe it would just echo inside me forever.

 

 

By the time I got back, Staci was not in a good mood. She'd decided rockhounding was no fun at all, not worth the trouble to chisel away and ruin her nails in the process. She pointed to a paltry showing of bits and pieces of shiny, black bits nestled in a chamois cloth.

I was facing away from the rock wall where the vein was, but something told me to turn around. Then it pulled me toward the rock, and then a little to the left. I dropped the pack and the rope, and almost by themselves my hands reached out and touched the vein of black, now about at my waist. I closed my eyes.

Something inside me pulsed. It almost seemed to come up from the ground as it moved through my body and out into my fingers. And I could see, as clear as day behind my closed eyelids, a large, oblong shape of black glass. I could feel how long it was, how wide it was, and how high it was. I even knew that three inches into the rock from where my fingers rested was where the shape began.

I dug into the pack for tools, gloves, and goggles and began to chisel away at the rock above and below the vein in the place where I knew the shape was. Then Brad was beside me, tools in hand. He didn't say anything, and I just pointed where he should work. Within ten minutes we'd cleared away enough rock to see the swell of the shape begin.

Brad stepped back and said, "Holy shit. Holy shit." And then we went to work with a vengeance while Staci watched.

By the time we stopped, we'd cleared most of the shape, and the back part of it was embedded in something harder than what we'd been clearing away. Brad and I glanced at each other and nodded, and he showed me which chisel to use for what we wanted to do: crack the glass shape from the top and get as much of it out as we could. When we stopped, grinning and a little breathless, we had one large chunk of obsidian—maybe five inches by six—and eight other chunks, a couple of inches each. Some of them had sharp edges that would have sliced meat.

We lifted our goggles over our heads, and Staci said, "Okay, Jesse, how did you do that?"

I didn't want to say what I thought had happened. The rush of energy I'd felt could have come from only one source: Ronan. It was Ronan who had known about that shape, Ronan who had guided my hands, Ronan who pulsed through me like a magic life force.

"Just lucky," I told her. "We couldn't leave here with you feeling like it was a waste of time, could we?" I grinned at her, then at Brad. I held up the large chunk. "Is this piece mine or yours?"

"Oh, bro, that one's yours. Do you want any of these other ones?"

"Maybe one." I chose one with a fascinating concave curve in it that formed a sharp edge along one side.

On the drive back, we didn't talk much. Staci leaned against Brad, and I let my mind focus on what had happened. I was still convinced that Ronan had been behind that pulsing energy, that somehow he was the one who'd seen that black shape and guided me toward it. I just hoped that my response to Staci's question, that I'd made a lucky guess, had been enough to keep her from feeling like maybe there was something freaky about me after all. I needed to believe that today's mission had been accomplished and that she'd feel like she could reconnect with her aunt, or at least let Brad join the TVA.

 

 

After dinner, up in my room, I arranged the obsidian piece and the tooth from that cave on a shelf over my desk. Then I picked up my phone and stared at it. And stared at it. And stared at it some more. And then I texted Ronan.

Find any obsidian lately?

I stared at the phone some more while I waited at least two minutes for a response.

I need you to stop contacting me.

You contacted me this afternoon with no phone

I mean it.

We can't even be friends?

There was no further response.

 

 

That night I had this dream. It almost felt more like a hallucination. There was a tree, kind of like Griffin’s tattoo, but there were things all over the branches, like little gems, and a straw doll, nonsense kinds of things. Somehow I was supposed to retrieve them, and I did, but every time I took one more thing in my hands it got harder to carry them all. For some reason, the things I had to take got bigger and bigger. There was a pillow, and a length of rope that kept uncoiling and getting tangled in the branches. I realized I was stupid not to have brought something to put everything in, so I took my shirt off and used that for a kind of satchel. Still, it kept getting harder to hang onto everything, and I started to panic. And then I started to drop things. I was yelling for help, only there was no sound.

Suddenly there was a bobcat in the tree, glaring at me, mouth wide open and teeth bared. Its crystal teeth looked like the one that had stabbed me in the cave. I tried to scream, but again there was no sound, and then I was wide awake. I was panting like I’d run a race, and my heart was pounding. Somehow I knew that in my sleep I had stopped breathing. I sat up, chest heaving, lungs desperate for air. Finally I recovered enough to turn a light on, and then I couldn't stand being in bed.

At my desk, I picked up that quartz tooth from the cave. Holding it up to my desk light, I could see tiny rainbows in the clear part of the quartz, and they appeared and disappeared with the smallest change in how the light hit them. And those thin black lines shot all through it… what on earth were they?

Brad would know exactly what the black is, and what the lines were all about. Without him, though, and without Ronan, I had no idea.

I figured the Internet would have some information about this; why did I need Brad or Ronan? After a number of searches, I did manage to find something like my tooth. It was called rutilated quartz, and the black thing on the side (which, upon closer examination, seemed to have a reddish tint) as well as the threads shot through the tooth, were most likely titanium oxide. This size wasn’t worth much, but really large specimens were.

On a whim, I looked up the non-geological properties, the sort of things Ronan might have said about it.

Rutilated quartz can be used to illuminate the soul to promote spiritual growth. It helps you let go of the past, understand the reasons for your current problems, and make the changes you need to make. It lightens your mood, relieves fears, phobias, and anxieties, and it promotes forgiveness.

I set it back on the shelf beside the obsidian. With no light directly on it, it looked dull, especially next to the shiny black obsidian. And yet if it could do even half of what it was supposed to be able to do, it seemed powerful.

But I hadn't felt Ronan guiding me to that tooth. Which stone was more powerful? I looked up obsidian.

Obsidian is used to clear out the energetic fogginess that results if you've been exposed to multiple energetic influences at one time, or to many strong energies over a short period of time. Obsidian is also good if you need to expose yourself to energies that might not be good for you. It protects you to some extent, and then after the exposure you can cleanse your energy with it.

I picked up the small piece of obsidian with the sharp edge and held it up to the light. Where the stone grew thinner toward the edge, the color was more like a reddish brown than black. Holding it with the fingers of both hands, I closed my eyes and concentrated on clearing out the strong energy that had taken over my hands and mind this afternoon. I wasn't ready to give up on Ronan, despite his text message, but if I had to wait for that, too—along with everything else on the list of things I was waiting for—then I wanted to clear his energy from mine.

Then, obsidian in my right hand, I picked up the rutilated quartz with my left hand and closed my fingers around each. I closed my eyes and waited to see if I felt anything like that dizzying sway when I'd held the malachite and the lapis in the treehouse.

At first there was nothing. But then it began to feel as though the two hands were fighting each other, like they couldn't get along. They couldn't exist in the same place at the same time. That place would seem to be me. So I couldn't both clear Ronan away and forgive him at the same time? That was okay with me; I wasn't ready to forgive him. I set the tooth back on the shelf and gazed at it.

Forgiveness. There were two other people in need of that from me: my father, and my brother. But I wasn't quite ready for that, either.