Sight Unseen Page 12

  “Lovely place,” he said. “You grew up here?”

  “Yeah.” She’d spent her childhood scrambling through these hills, in love with every inch of them. Even at the end, when she’d realized that the only path to sanity lay in leaving it all behind, she’d mourned the need to abandon Hidden Springs. She still went hiking on the weekends, but no other stretch of land, no matter how wild and remote, seemed to speak to her as this one did.

  Her mother would have made some big mystical deal out of that. But nature was magical enough without the added bullshit, wasn’t it? Kate didn’t need to believe in forest sprites, or Bigfoot, or fairies, to find a particular enchantment in these specific woods. This had been her home, until her mother had made it impossible for her to stay.

  Her mom, of course, felt differently. She loved this land primarily for its convenient location: ninety minutes from the spas and shopping of San Francisco, but far enough from the city lights to offer a good view of the stars. Yuppies flocked in on the weekends, paying through the nose for yoga and massage and meditation classes in pine-scented air.

  Their money also paid for the real business of Hidden Springs, which was a communal living experiment for the delusional. A ragtag crew of people of all ages, some of them surprisingly accomplished and educated, living together to practice “magick” that would reverse global warming and save the world. Climate-craft™, her mother called it. Yes, she’d registered the trademark.

  Kate heard the Range Rover before it appeared. Pangaea had high-flying ideals about green living, but she also had a deep-seated fear of horses, and lacked the aerobic fitness to bike up hills. The compound was well stocked with off-road vehicles.

  When she saw the man in the driver’s seat, she swore.

  “Old friend of yours?” asked North.

  “No.” She crossed her arms, bracing herself against the unpleasant brew churning through her stomach. “Ex-boyfriend, actually.”

  North lifted a silver brow. “How awkward for you.”

  He sounded amused. “You’re a shitty human being,” she snapped.

  For once, her barb seemed to startle him. He opened his mouth, but the rumble of the approaching vehicle cut off his reply. Kate dragged her sunglasses over her eyes, squinting through the glare that bounced off the Range Rover’s windshield.

  She hadn’t seen Galen since the morning she’d broken up with him. The night before, he’d told her that he’d planned to leave med school and move to Hidden Springs. Turned out, he’d had his eye on her mother’s crowd since well before meeting Kate. He’d dated her just to get close to them.

  Turned out, Galen was as insane as the rest of them.

  Galen swung out of the Range Rover with athletic ease, showcasing muscled shoulders, rangy limbs, all the fine points that had first caught her attention across a crowded classroom. The professors in grad school had loved him. It was so rare for a med student to make time for psych classes. He’d been interested in the biological basis of mental illness, the role of the microbiome in mental health.

  Kate had thought herself the luckiest woman in the world to have caught his interest.

  He still wore his dark hair long and shaggy, and the steel blue of his eyes glinted from twenty paces away. “Kate! This is a surprise.”

  Galen’s long strides devoured the ground between them. He unlocked the gates, then he was swinging her off the ground in a bear hug. He smelled like aftershave and soap. God, how she’d wanted him once.

  The ghost of old angst rattled through her. Had he enrolled in that psych class with the explicit aim of meeting her, romancing and using her? Or had the idea dawned after they’d first hooked up? She still wasn’t sure, since he’d never admitted to any of it. But even back then, head-over-heels in love with him, she had wondered why such a man—a man who could make tenured professors stammer and blush—had taken such an immediate interest in her.

  “Put me down,” she said quietly.

  His quick compliance should have pleased her. Instead, it smacked of an actor released from his performance. “Who’s this?” he asked as his gaze locked on North. Whatever he saw made his face darken.

  “Antiques dealer,” she said. Why was she lying? Because the actual details sounded too vague. “He wants to speak to Pangaea about a—”

  “She’s not in the mood for visitors.”

  “Wow.” Kate crossed her arms. “Come a long way, haven’t you? Time was, you needed my invite to visit. Now you’re the gatekeeper? What, are you going to stop me from seeing my own mother?”

  Galen looked somber. “You are always welcome, Kate. But your company”—his expression hardened as he glanced beyond her—“is a different matter.”

  She frowned. It wasn’t like Galen—not the Galen she remembered, anyway—to be so hostile to strangers. Blatant charm had always been his strategy. “Any particular reason for that?”

  She sensed North approach behind her. Galen grew tenser yet. “You were always naive,” he said, not removing his eyes from North. “Too quick to trust strangers.”

  “Yeah, you taught me that lesson real well.” She paused. “Unless—do you two know each other?”

  “No,” both men said at once.

  “But I know his kind,” Galen said.

  A muscle ticked in North’s jaw. “Prejudice is rife, is it not?”

  Kate looked between them, baffled. “Yeah, blonds have it real hard, I imagine.”

  Galen cut her a disparaging look, one that triggered an old, familiar, angering feeling. How many times, at Hidden Springs, had she felt out of place, lost and unwelcome, as though everyone around her were speaking a language she wasn’t quite fluent enough to understand?

  North sighed. “I come in peace. Harmony’s mother bought something that wasn’t meant to be sold. I wish to buy it back.”

  “And you’re playing the middleman?” Galen sneered at Kate.

  She felt her face redden. All at once, she was angry.

  “Fine. Fuck it. If she won’t see him, then we’ll head back to Berkeley.”

  As she turned away, Galen caught her arm. Before she could protest, North had stepped between them—and some icy current moved with him, a wind that did not move the tree branches but which caused Galen to retreat abruptly, his face pale.

  “Hands off,” North said quietly.

  A taste like burnt ozone filled her mouth. Had she just imagined that wind? It had been cold enough to raise goosebumps on her skin—but the sun was beating down, hot as syrup. It didn’t make sense. She felt dizzy.

  “Look,” she said with difficulty. “Yes or no. I’ve already wasted half the morning.”

  Galen drew an audible breath. “Eighteen months without a word, and this is how you return.”

  He had lied to her. Used her. And her own mother had counseled her to forgive him! She owed him nothing. “Yeah, I agree,” she said harshly. “Eighteen months is way too soon.”

  He sighed. “And your mother? What of her? She worries about you. You can’t even answer her texts?”

  Kate’s therapist had insisted on a clean break. You didn’t keep one foot in a cult.

  Deep breath, pause, release. The classic calming technique. “Look,” Kate said on the out-breath. “Can we see her, or what?”

  Galen shrugged. “He’ll have to be searched before he enters the compound.”

  “Not by you,” North said.

  Galen’s shoulders squared.

  North drew himself to his full height.

  Kate was suddenly reminded of roosters, circling each other as they fluffed and crowed. “I’ll search him,” she snapped. “Unless you don’t trust me for that, either?”

  Galen made a harsh noise. It sounded like disgust, but she decided to take it for agreement. “All right,” she muttered to North. “Hold out your arms. I’ll make this quick.”

  Expressionless, he unbuttoned his suit jacket. For some reason, the sight of his long fingers on the buttons made her feel abruptly uncomfortable. She
might actually find something. A weapon of some kind. What then?

  No. Her imagination was running away with her.

  He turned his palms upward, giving her a slight smile of invitation. She nodded, took a deep breath, and reached gingerly for his torso.

  The breath slipped out of her. That electric feeling from yesterday—it was real. She felt it again, leaping through her palms as she slid them over his chest.

  North was built. No padding beneath this tailored white shirt. Just muscle—bands and bands of it, wrapped around a whittled-lean waist, a body designed for explosive power.

  Her breath hitched. She felt him notice it. His interested gaze felt like a concentrated beam of heat on her face. She couldn’t meet his eyes. This was insane. Her pulse was tripping. She quickly ran her hands down his thighs. Holy mother of . . .

  The man had to spend hours each day in the gym.

  As she straightened, his breath warmed her ear. She was bright red now, breathless. The current leaping between their bodies intensified as she went on tiptoe to brush her palms up over his arms. God above, the man was twice as wide as her.

  A vivid image flashed through her mind: herself lying on top of him. Naked. His leonine body, calves flexing, mouth moving lazily over her throat—

  Their eyes met. Slowly, he smiled.

  She sprang backward. “Yeah,” she managed. “Nothing.”

  Galen’s mouth pursed, as though he tasted something sour. “All right, then. I’ll drive you up.”

  *

  Her mother’s interior design could charitably be called eclectic. The house was labyrinthine and dark, the walls crowded with masks, tribal embroideries, and tools and musical instruments that Pangaea had probably stolen from village homestays across the developing world.

  She greeted them with tea, of course—some detoxifying recipe “guaranteed to clear up the aura.” North abandoned his cup after one sip, and began to wander the perimeters of the living room, taking in the museum displays. Kate was glad for it. Handling her mother was a skill that required familiarity and practice. He’d only piss her off.

  “So look,” she said, pushing away the lavender-sage-whatever drink. “We’re here because—”

  “Whatever the reason, you’re welcome.” Her mother was cradling a fat orange tabby cat, occasionally jerking to the side to avoid the cat’s claws in her loose auburn curls. “And I’m so glad that you’re dating again, Harmony. I was beginning to worry.”

  “No, Mom, I’m not—”

  “That whole business with Galen was just so unfortunate! Now, I wish you would sit down with him for a Reconciliation; I really think it would be a weight off you. But at least you’re moving on. North is quite a handsome young man, isn’t he?” Here Pangaea paused to flutter her lashes at him. To Kate’s relief, he appeared too absorbed in the wall decorations to notice. “Although I must say, I never expected to see you with an elf, of all creatures!”

  North did glance over at this, his brow lifting ironically.

  “Good God,” Kate said faintly. “Oh, come on, Mom.”

  “Well, I have nothing against the species,” her mother said with a sniff. “Only, and I hope you’ll forgive me for noting it, North, your people are rather stiff-necked, aren’t they? Quite convinced that the rest of us are blithering idiots.”

  A brief silence opened, as if she were inviting North to acknowledge that, yes, elves were arrogant twats.

  He turned to offer a slight, unreadable smile. Kate silently congratulated him; it was probably the best way to respond to anything her mother said.

  “Well,” Pangaea said, her tone subdued, “I suppose every rule has its exceptions.” Her bangles jingled as she smoothed the cat’s head. “So long as you treat my daughter right—”

  “We’re not dating.” Kate held onto her temper, barely. “I am not dating anyone. You need help, Mom. You need to speak to someone, because you’re getting worse. Elves, really?” This was why she couldn’t hang around, not even on the weekend. She couldn’t enable this.

  “Oh, Harmony.” Her mother sighed. “And there’s your negativity again. Darling, your aura is so . . . dark. Drink your tisane, please. I must say, your negativity doesn’t do you any favors, dear. In fact, I’ve come to believe that it casts a powerful pall. Do you know, since you’ve left, we’ve finally had some success with our climate spells, and Auntie Serena was saying—”

  “Oh, is that why we’re in a drought?”

  “—she was saying that it might have some connection to your absence. I can’t help but wonder if she’s right. You take your negativity elsewhere, and our powers begin to swell. Can it be a coincidence?”

  Kate dragged in a harsh breath. “Great, so I’m the reason your little spells aren’t working?” No, no. She had to get this back on track. “Look. You bought a crystal ball at some auction last month. Or—witching orb, whatever you call it.”

  “Did I?” Pangaea set the cat onto the floor. He bolted out of the room. Kate envied his escape.

  “Apparently you did,” she said. “It wasn’t meant to be sold. It belongs to Mr. North, here, and he wants to buy it back.”

  Pangaea looked questioningly to North, who broke away from his survey of the knick-knacks to give her what looked peculiarly like a bow.

  “Oh!” Pangaea’s laugh sounded delighted. “Such courtly niceties—that’s what I always forget about elves. You are dreadfully well-mannered.”

  “We try,” murmured North.

  Before Kate could call them both back to earth, Pangaea rounded on her. “But dearest, I have no idea what you’re talking about. We’ve been on a hiatus, not acquiring anything.”

  “The orb is small—six inches in diameter,” North said. “Bubbled. Casts a blue light when activated.”

  Kate gave him a sharp glance. “Do not encourage her.”

  But Pangaea gasped with recognition. “Oh, that orb!” She paused, frowning. “Blue light, do you say? Oh, dear . . . it looked rather red to me.”

  A muscle ticked in North’s jaw. “Yes. When objects are misused, they tend to protest.”

  Pangaea visibly bridled. “Well, if certain parties were more forthcoming in sharing their knowledge—”

  “Mom! Where is it?”

  “I don’t have it. Eagle took it.”

  Her newest husband. “Took it where?”

  Pangaea bit her lip. “I didn’t want to tell you this way. But I’m afraid your stepfather has moved out. We’re splitting up, dear. I’m so sorry.”

  It took Kate a moment to make sense of her mother’s soft touch on her wrist. Pangaea was trying to comfort her.

  Kate recoiled. “I’ve met Eagle exactly twice. I think I’ll be okay.”

  “But darling, I know what a terrible effect an unstable home can have on a child. I only wish—”

  “Eagle no longer lives here?” North cut in.

  “No, he’s gone back to San Francisco. He has an apartment in the Mission. Harmony knows it. But, Harmony—did you know it was rent-controlled?” Pangaea confided this in a marveling undertone. “He only just told me last week. Three bedrooms for seven hundred a month—in San Francisco! Can you imagine?”

  “We’re leaving,” Kate told North.

  “Oh, so soon? But Serena was so excited to see you!”

  “Tell Auntie Serena that my negativity got the best of me,” Kate snapped.

  *

  Kate had no interest in letting Galen drive them back to the gate. “We’ll walk,” she said, and led North out of the house and through the garden, back onto the dirt road that led through the estate.

  The land looked different. Wilted, somehow. The leaves on the trees were browned at the edges. She frowned as she looked around. This heat spell hadn’t started until last week. It couldn’t account for how withered everything looked.

  North walked silently beside her, no doubt lost in his own thoughts about glowing crystal balls or mafia kills or who the fuck knew. Kate realized she was stomping, and ma
de herself slow her pace and pretend, at least, to be a mature adult capable of enduring lunacy without letting it infect her.

  But she wasn’t great at pretending. A minute into the trek, she realized the true reason she’d turned down Galen’s ride.

  “You mind if we take five minutes before we get back to the car?” she asked.

  North shrugged.

  A newcomer would never have noticed the trailhead. North asked no questions, following her off the road on silent feet. The trail wound down a steep ravine, bottoming out at a grove of redwoods that rose in a circle amidst beds of green ferns.

  Down here, at least, everything still looked healthy, vibrant and lush.

  As Kate basked in the cool, damp air, North’s patience began to feel like a favor to her. She repaid it by explaining: “This was my favorite place, growing up.”

  “A fairy ring.”

  “Yeah.” She hadn’t expected him to know the term.

  He must have sensed her surprise. “It’s a pan-cultural phenomenon—reverence for sites in which trees come together like this.”

  His phrasing made it sound like the trees had chosen to huddle up. Normally, she would have cracked a joke about it. But in this place, the idea felt right. These trees had always struck her as . . . uncommonly alive. Like old friends.

  She took a seat on the flat-topped boulder that had seen her through so many afternoons as a kid. Laid her palm flat against the soft red bark of the nearest redwood, and looked up into the shadowed depths of the treetops.

  “Fog-drinkers,” said North.

  She smiled again. “You know your redwoods.” They drew moisture out of the air, as well as out of the ground.

  North took a seat on the ground nearby, crossing his legs with casual ease. The pose should have seemed childish, but instead, on his long, limber frame, it looked graceful and relaxed. “Trees are worthy of knowing,” he said. “Most of them, at least.”

  She snorted. “Which ones are on your hit list?”

  He smiled. “I’d rather not say, lest word travel. Never wise to anger a tree.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Well, I’m in trouble, then. I used to call this group ‘the cloud vampires.’”

  “Oh, I’m sure they found that amusing.”