“What’s your interest in him?” Mrs. Dodd asked. She wasn’t a woman who was easily fazed, but she had a peculiar, chilly expression when Lockland’s name came up. Mrs. Dodd’s daughter, Mary, had dated Tom for a while. He was handsome and charming and they’d all felt sorry for his rough upbringing. They thought the notion that he was a self-centered rogue was mere gossip, then he’d gone ahead and broken Mary Dodd’s heart, dumping her for no apparent reason, which caused her to move to London and never return, not even for a weekend. Mrs. Dodd hoped to never set eyes on Tom again.
“I think our families knew each other long ago,” Kylie explained.
“Oh, I see.” Mrs. Dodd seemed to flinch as she nodded out the window, saying she believed he was currently at number 23 on the far end of the High Street, the main thoroughfare in town. “He comes and goes,” Mrs. Dodd told Kylie.
When Kylie thanked Mrs. Dodd for her help, the proprietor responded by saying, “Good luck to you.” Kylie couldn’t tell if her comment was sincere, for as she went out she noticed that Mrs. Dodd held up her index and pinkie fingers, making the sign of the fox, traditionally used as a counter-charm against hexes to send left-handed magic back to its originator.
The High Street wasn’t especially long, a mile at most, and it was easy enough to locate number 23, a small one-bedroom cottage in need of repair. Once she’d arrived, Kylie hesitated, thinking of Gideon. She made her way into a grove of linden trees across the road and took out her phone to call the hospital. When she was put through to his room the phone rang and rang, then suddenly was picked up.
“Gideon?” Kylie was standing in clover in a damp, muddy dip beside the road. There were cows in a nearby field, all black and white, resting in the shadows. Kylie had to blink back tears. “Talk to me,” she said.
“Kylie, it’s me.”
Antonia, her dear sister, to whom she didn’t wish to speak.
“Put him on,” Kylie demanded.
“Kylie.” Antonia sighed.
“I want to talk to him,” Kylie insisted.
“There’s no point. He can’t speak. We’re all so worried about you. Just tell me where you are.”
Kylie laughed, but the sharp burst of laugher turned into a sob. “I’m not crying,” she said, embarrassed by her raw emotions.
“You should be here with Gideon,” Antonia urged. “Wherever you are we’ll come get you. You know I’ll do anything to help you.”
“Then hold the phone to his ear.”
“Kylie, he’s in a coma.”
“Are you trying to help me or not!”
The phone was held up and Kylie could hear Gideon’s breathing, a shallow, watery sound, as though he were drowning. “Come back,” she said to him. She wiped her black tears away with the back of her hand. “I’m getting you out of there,” she promised. “You just have to wait for me. Wait right there.”
When she hung up, she collapsed in the clover and wept, then wiped her face with the tail end of her shirt. She felt different, as if nothing could stop her. She had no choice in the matter if she intended to bring him back. She made her way out of the grove of trees. The Book of the Raven advised that only a person who has been cursed will understand the meaning of carrying the burden of being exiled from her own life. You cannot do as you please, only as the curse commands you to do. That would end, no matter the price. Kylie took in the last few breaths of the life she’d led before arriving at number 23. Out here in the country the air was perfumed with the scent of ferns and juniper. Kylie had wrapped The Book of the Raven in newspaper, then again in a scarf, which was carefully tucked into her backpack. There was a tremor in her hands as they rested on the iron gate. She recalled the librarian’s last words. Don’t trust anyone.