BRIDGER (35 page)

Coming back to where we currently stood, the field we were currently in was gorgeous.
 
Flowers of all kinds made a beautiful patchwork quilt beneath our feet.
 
This area stood out against the rest of the land of fall colors.
 
It seemed like every season was represented here somehow.

Roslin was polite and allowed me the time needed to take in my surroundings, waiting on me to return to our conversation.
 
I finally turned back to Roslin to find her grinning ear to ear.
 
She was visibly pleased with my wide-eyed expression of her home.
 
“Wow,” was all I could manage.

“I agree.
 
I enjoy it here.
 
Much better than the humanly realm you’re used to, if I can be so bold?”

“Well, it’s definitely different,” I laughed.
 
“I’ve never seen more than one season thirty feet away from each other.”

She nodded, smiling appreciatively.
 
“This side of the lake is gorgeous.
 
Springtime and fall are my favorites, and this meadow is close to both.
 
I’m jealous of the faeries on this side.
 
We’ve just got summer and winter across the lake.”

I looked back to the other side of the lake where Roslin lived.
 
There were snow-capped mountains that disappeared into the clouds behind the estate.
 
I shivered with excitement at the sight.
 
“I’m partial to winter myself.”

“Well, we need to get moving that direction anyway.
 
You’re soaked to the bone, so we should probably get you into some new clothes before you catch your death.” She smiled once more. She was a genuinely happy person by the looks of it. “We look about the same size, you can take a peek in my closet if you’d like.”

I rang out the hem of my shirt.
 
“That’d be nice.
 
Where’s Memaw, though?”

Roslin smiled.
 
“She’s in her quarters across the lake.
 
I’ll make sure you’re in the room next to her.
 
She’ll be fine.
 
I’ve never seen her be taken down for too long, and she’s come back much worse than the condition you’ve brought her in.”

I looked down, feeling terrible that she was hurt at all.
 
She was my grandma; I was supposed to be taking care of the elderly, respecting my elders, and all that jazz. The rules probably changed when your grandma was a faerie Terminator of sorts, but still, there were guidelines to how things should work. Letting her get hacked up wasn’t okay.

Roslin put her hand on my shoulder.
 
“It’s all right, really.
 
Emily was meant for battle.
 
It looks as though you’ve been through your share as well.”

“Not like her.
 
It seems like in the past three months I’ve encountered more weird things than I could’ve guessed existed, though.”

“You don’t even know the half of it, little one.
 
How about we go find Emily?”

We headed toward the lake, passing through the meadow and into the fall colors.
 
Large oaks stretched endlessly before us as we followed the cobbled path into a forest.
 
Leaves swirled and danced around our feet to the rhythm of the gentle wind.
 
Roslin continued to ask questions as we walked.

“So you knew about Emily’s portal.
 
How?”

“She told me,” I said simply.
 
I didn’t want to get Memaw in too much trouble. Even though I liked Roslin, it was probably better to keep as much information at bay as possible. The Jamie experience had taught that much.

Roslin didn’t push for more answers after asking a question. That was nice. After a moment’s silence, she asked another question.
 
“Who are you?”

“I told you, I’m Ashlyn, Emily’s granddaughter.”

“No, I know that.
 
The better question is probably
what
are you?”

I stopped walking and looked into the forest.
 
That was something even I didn’t know.
 
“That’s a good question.”

“What does Emily think of you?”

Not looking up from examining my feet, I began to walk again.
 
“Well, she used to hate me, I think. At least it felt like that growing up.
 
Then when Ankou and Jamie attacked me, she explained everything. She explained about herself, who she really was, what I might be.
 
She has ideas about me, but she isn’t sure.”

“Are you similar to Tess?”

“How do you know Tess?”

Roslin smiled, pulling me into a side-armed hug.
 
“Little one, I know all about anything that has to do with us Glaistigs.”

Roslin asked again, this time insistent on receiving an answer for her question.
 
“So, are you like Tess?”

I tried to deflect the question again, knowing Memaw had a better idea of what was going on.
 
“I think Memaw wanted to discuss it with the committee and see what they think.
 
Are you one of the people on the committee?”

She smiled now, squeezing me once more.
 
“Indeed I am.
 
I look forward to hearing what Emily has to say about you. You seem special.”

We were silent for a moment as we walked. Curiosity overtook better judgment for a moment, and I blurted out a question that was burning inside of me. “Roslin, how old are you?”

She laughed, wrapping her arm around me. “Little one, I am six hundred eighty-three years old.”

That was mind-boggling. “You don’t look a day over eighteen.”

“That’s because that is when I was granted faerie status. I’ll never age again, just like Emily. Speaking of which, let’s get you back to your grand momma.”

As she finished her sentence, the beach appeared.
 
Walking across the sand, I broke out into a jog at the same moment Roslin did.
 
We both seemed to be excited to see Memaw, although I was thinking it was for different reasons.

TWENTY-EIGHT

The lake was smooth as glass as we crossed.
 
We barely made a wake as the rowboat steered by itself along an invisible pulley.
 
Roslin and I made small talk as we crossed, just enjoying the view.
 
The boat from the other side passed by us silently, as if commandeered by a ghost.
 
I looked down into the water, amazed by the clarity.

The water was as still and clear as glass.
 
It put the clear Caribbean waters I experienced on a family vacation to shame, making them look like a muddy river in comparison.
 
Colorful schools of fish flitted underneath the boat, an ever-moving rainbow beneath the water’s surface.
 
It was hard to believe this place really existed.

We pulled up to the dock with a gentle knock against the wood.
 
Roslin was out of the boat in a flash, tying us firmly in place.
 
She extended her hand and hauled me out of the boat in one strong pull.

“Welcome to Adaire, Ashlyn McVean,” Roslin said, smiling.

“I thought we were in Adaire over on the other side?”

Roslin chuckled.
 
“Well, we were, but that was just the countryside.
 
Adaire truly lies behind these walls.
 
If I can be a bit cliché, this is where the magic happens.”

I shook my head, laughing as well.
 
“I don’t think I can handle any more magic than what has already been witnessed.”

“Oh, this isn’t magic, young one.
 
This is what your human realm was like before we left as well.”

I looked up in shock.
 
“You were there?”

She nodded, eyes distant in thought.
 
“Yes; I was there before the war.
 
Faeries and humans intermingled openly and peacefully until Ankou and his band of Changelings decided they would rather enslave humans. After they began their carnage, humans were scared of all faeries. Once they started trying to hurt those of us actually trying to help their cause, we decided it was necessary that we have a place to live in peace.”

“Ah,” was all I could say.
 
It seemed like Ankou was the catalyst for everything horrible that had happened in the past millennia.
 
I shook my head, trying to fathom a utopia like this for Mom and Chris.

We reached the gate that had been visible from across the lake. The intricacy of the design in the wrought iron was breathtaking. Upon further inspection, there was no divide where the doors would swing open.
 
People were woven into the iron fresco, with a hillside not unlike the one we were just on in the background. A group of five stood out among the rest, the clear centerpiece of the work.
 
Roslin placed her hand on the chest of the woman on the far right, who glowed to life in the iron.
 
Instead of being the hard, black color of iron, the woman’s dress became a brilliant sky blue, her short hair being tousled by a nonexistent wind.
 
Roslin nodded toward the woman, then declared in a clear voice who she was.
 
Her voice was professional and lost almost the entire Southern drawl I heard the rest of the time we had been talking.

“I am Roslin, the woman you represent.
 
I request passage into Adaire.”

The iron version of Roslin looked at me.
 
In the same exact voice as the real woman, she spoke.
 
“Who is this young one you bring?”

“Ashlyn, granddaughter of Emily, the protector and assassin.”

At that declaration, the iron woman in the middle blazed to life.
 
It was a perfect replica of Memaw, complete to the bloody skirt.
 
“I have not permitted Ashlyn to come through here before.
 
She cannot have passed to Adaire.”

Roslin laughed at the woman, patting her tiny shoulder.
 
“Oh she’s here, Emily.
 
Seek out who you represent if you don’t believe. She will tell you.”

Gate-Memaw harrumphed, and began walking away from us, toward the hillside.
 
She disappeared from the fresco in a matter of moments.
 
It was one of the most bizarre things I’d ever seen.

The iron Roslin nodded, apparently satisfied with me entering without waiting on iron Memaw to return.
 
“You may pass.”
 

The remainder of the group divided.
 
The gate began to glow, then split in half and swung open.
 
Once we were out of range to potentially be smacked by the doors, I heard iron clang shut behind us.
 
Looking behind, the gate had sealed itself back into the design.
 
The iron group of five had come back together, looking as though it was one complete piece.
 
Iron Memaw had her head in her hands.
 
She’d probably found out it was true that I was here.
 
It was amazing.
 
Roslin put her hand on my shoulder, pushing me to step forward with her.

“Can anyone enter?” I asked.

“No, only the five you saw on the gate,” Roslin said, her accent back in full swing.
 
“We’re the committee.
 
Your grand momma was awful protective wasn’t she?”

“Really? I didn’t notice at all.”

She laughed.
 
“Your grand momma is the newest addition to the committee and we did that three hundred years ago.
 
We don’t change much.”