Stirring sugar in, Shayla said, "But it's evil to bring misery down on people. I was going to say, unsuspecting people, but the truth is it doesn't matter. Forcing such influence on others is despicable."

"That's true," Meekal said. "The reason they are left to their own environment is because most people with the power to invoke them would never use it to do harm."

"Fae royalty?" Shayla asked snidely.

"I already told you that you're royalty to creatures. Remember, at Midmar Circle?"

Earl Grey tea went down the wrong pipe. Glaring and sputtering at the same time, she fought down her instant arousal at the memory. She brought her foot up and stepped on Meekal's boot.

"Wanna go back?" he asked, huskily. He leaned close for a quick kiss.

"No."

Although Meekal's bottom lip came out in a pout, his cobalt blue eyes danced with amus.e.m.e.nt.

Shayla rolled her eyes. "I think I'm going to go for a walk. Maybe you should talk to Gail about your paperwork."

His face changed to seriousness. "Fine. I'll find you."

"Later," Shayla whispered, and then pecked him on the cheek in farewell.

Shayla sat lotus style on the Angel Bench facing east within the Chalice Well Gardens. Eyes closed, she inhaled deeply and released her breath with a gentle, "Shree." Inhaling again, she pulled the image of the Gardens into her mind's eye.

The landscape around her moved in eternal life, preparing for winter's blanket and chills. Newly bare branches soughed in the fall air. Dry fallen leaves added their harmony, rustling and pirouetting in a journey back to the earth. A flock of redwings chattered incessantly in the hedgerow bordering the Gardens.

In a relaxed posture, she uncurled her fingers, palms tilted toward the heavens. Meditation always took her to a place of unity with creation. Shayla surrendered to nature's peaceful beauty, releasing her memory's visions.

The last few days had a way of gathering emotions and physical responses she was accustomed to blocking. The sight of Syther torturing his minions caused her stomach to retch even now.

Amethyst Graham's death weighed heavily on her soul. Her blood on her hands colored her world crimson with the temporary aspect of all things.

She exhaled, releasing the dark haunting regressions. Letting go, she felt a slight lifting of her spirit. With each breath, she felt lighter. Within her solar plexus, Shayla experienced a new sensation of growth. Confidence grew that the work they had completed for the ward would succeed. Accepting progressive ideas and concepts brought her mind full circle around to Meekal.

Gently, she curled the fingers of her left hand. The cut Meekal made there would have caused deep-seated concern and worries only days earlier. Not today. a.s.surance of their action along with its potential for healing the wards brought new understanding.

She knew her blood was healthy. Meekal knew his was healthy. Their sharing was life giving, not destructive. Shayla sensed movement next to her. The fact that her heart fluttered when Meekal's scent caressed her, pulled at the corners of her mouth.

His quiet proximity revealed full acceptance of her focused meditation. Knowledge of this simple fact sent a thrill through her. She took a moment to relish his presence even as her eyes remained closed. She had never experienced such wholehearted willingness from a person to embrace her with full acceptance.

Barb, her friend since the age of five, struggled with some aspects of her personality. Her mother's love was boundless even as it tightened around Shayla with certain expectations. She allowed Meekal's scent to surround her. Inhaling deeply, she pulled his essence within her.

Chaeli's voice wafted through her mind, "Where the light is brightest, the shadows are darkest." Shayla thought that must also pertain to love and hate. The whirlwind of pa.s.sion Meekal brought to her was deep, fast and serene, all at the same time. In the midst of sudden intense love, she experienced dark hatred compelled by consuming greed. Shayla released the thought with her breath and pulled in renewed hope.

Time became irrelevant.

The first thing Shayla was aware of when coming out of her meditation was the cold stone bench beneath her. Meekal's energy was next. "Hey," she whispered.

"It'll be all right," he said, taking her hand. The tip of his index finger brushed over her cut palm. He raised it and gave a fleeting b.u.t.terfly kiss, breathing warmly on her sensitive skin.

"Kal." She closed her eyes, forcing herself to recall why she came to this spot in the Gardens seeking answers to questions never before posed.

"I know." Meekal's tone was comforting. His fingers tightened around hers.

"Do you?" Her knees trembled and her heart raced.

"Aye, love. Everything has happened so fast. I can understand why you want to leave."

She chewed her lip, lowered her lashes and fought the surge of moisture in her eyes. "It isn't that. Exactly. Although I suppose that's a fragment of why I have to go."

"Shayla," his gentle insistence caressed her. "I understand you need time. I came out here to tell you Amethyst's memorial is in the morning. I'll take you to Bristol International afterwards if that's what you want. Continental has a flight to New York at eight fifty-five."

A sharp inhale actually hurt. She attempted to pull in her emotions and tears. The sudden wetness on her cheeks came from a wellspring of emotions brought about by unanswered questions. She wished she could slam the door to her heart and not feel the painful twist she experienced in her chest. "I don't even know you. I feel this way and don't even know how to put everything into perspective."

"Shh. I know." He pulled her into a tight embrace, caressing and murmuring low.

She closed her eyes, squeezing the lids tight. Her breathing rasped due to her emotional and physical conflict. She wanted to stay here forever and she wanted to flee back to the States in a rush of homesickness. Where was her home now?

Meekal's hands in her hair brought delicious sensations of desire forth. Shayla pulled away and stood stiffly. She swallowed her rising pa.s.sion and turned, facing him with building tension. "I didn't even know you had a job, much less what an Adjutor is. There's so much we don't know."

"We'll figure it out, Shay. You didn't know because I was off work for four days. Besides, one of my a.s.signments is to oversee security around Glas...o...b..ry. The Well is just a small part of that."

"You could've said something about it."

Meekal's lip twitched. He moved closer and pulled her the remaining distance. "I admit there were more important issues. I'll be honest. I've never felt this way before. Cliche, I know. But it's the truth."

Shayla trembled. Slowly, she brought her fingers up and brushed them through the black silk on his head. "What does an Adjutor do?" Shayla watched as Meekal studied her closely.

"The position is similar to the local police. It differs in the fact that I often serve as a guide or liaison to foreign visitors of all faiths. An Adjutor is an a.s.sistant. You know we have many visitors who come here. I a.s.sist them, coordinating their schedules, pointing out local sacred sites not listed elsewhere and maintaining a sense of law within their experiences."

"I think I understand." The b.u.t.tons on his shirt distracted her. Shayla fumbled with them thoughtfully. She still didn't have the trembling under control. The explanation was simple enough, just frustrating. "Is that what Gail does? Is your job the same as hers?"

"Gail is more undercover and travels all of the UK. I stay here in my back yard. It's just a carry-over from our family destiny of protecting the Well. That's why I was so upset about the reward. I don't need or want it. I was doing what had to be done. Zubird was an internationally wanted criminal. That's why there's a reward."

"Oh." Shayla chewed her lip. She reminded herself that Meekal accepted her unconditionally and what a new experience that was. Her heart swelled at that thought even as she envisioned the great body of water between their lifestyles. "You aren't mad?"

"Insane? Perhaps."

"No, I meant..."

"I know exactly what you meant. Teasing, love. No I'm not angry." He leaned forward, pulled her lower lip between his, and nibbled. "The most powerful symptom of love is a tenderness, which becomes at times almost insupportable. Victor Hugo said that."

"Kal."

"I love you. Let me be sensitive and understanding. All right?"

She moaned into him, sending her hands up to his neck. Waves of yearning swept away uncertainty. She deepened their kiss while holding on as though for her life.

[12] Saying Goodbye The news of Amethyst's death had spread quickly. Well-known in the Westlands as a philanthropist and spiritual warrior, the local churches resurrected their old custom of placing a light within windows designed for the purpose of guiding wanderers through the marshy lands around Glas...o...b..ry. Electric lights had been dimmed last night, bringing the golden glow to the prominent attention of local residents.

Shayla craned her neck, gazing at the ribbons tied in the branches of Old Magog. An ancient sentinel, the enormous oak overlooked the surrounding landscape with primordial power. Magog's story could be seen in her gnarled bark. Once a significant part of the Avalon Oaks, she and Gog, her partner, marked the traditional entrance to the island in a bygone era when water surrounded the blessed grounds of Glas...o...b..ry.

Her vacation to this sacred place had become overwhelmed with the urgency of meeting Meekal. There had been no time for sightseeing. Now, in the wake of a devastating death, she took a break to wander the countryside. The rough feel of the tree's skin beneath her palm whispered the truth of its history. Shayla allowed a small smile to lift the corners of her mouth.

Having attributes of a Fae definitely proved advantageous. No wonder she had always loved being surrounded by nature-it spoke to her like no other. In view of the old tree's perspective, she could visualize the former avenue of mighty oaks, bordering the ageless pilgrim's path, serving as both welcoming committee and protectors of the wayfaring seekers of shelter, new knowledge and hope.

The laughter of many generations of playing children echoed from her branches, eliciting tears of regret from Shayla that no one ever came and played among the spreading arms anymore. Protected for all posterity, people now kept a respectful distance.

That is until Amethyst's death.

The night before, candles carried there by mourners lit up through Magog's branches as one by one, people who knew and cherished Amethyst remembered she had loved playing around the tree in her youth. Thus, the multi-colored tributes tied and laced around the reaching wooden fingers.

Fall sunshine slanted through Magog's nearly bare branches, leaving araneous lines of shadow on the leaf covered ground beneath the ma.s.sive old oak. The ribbons, tied there by Amethyst's many friends, glistened in the brightness, dancing on the fall breath, singing with snapping voices of remembrance. Across the countryside, the tributes from people of all ages represented the wide spread goodness of one downed by evil.

The cool breeze whipped Shayla's jacket loose, swooping up the hem of her sweater, bringing gooseflesh in its wake. She shivered and pulled the front together, b.u.t.toning it tightly against Mother Nature's proclamation of coming colder weather.

A dark purple lacy ribbon attempted to blow away, brushing against her cheek. Shayla became aware that moisture spread on her face. Friendship, no matter how new, pulled at her heart. Amethyst had been an extremely kind person from the moment Shayla arrived at the Bristol Airport.

The devastating loss Shayla experienced stemmed not only from the shock of sudden horrific death, but also of lost possibilities. She would never get to know the woman on a deeper level. She sighed, thinking of Gail's red-rimmed eyes and Meekal's gray face. Their mourning would mark them for some time.

She fingered the ribbon and reattached it with a silent prayer. "Blessed be," she whispered, caressing its softness. She pulled away in slow motion, stroking the low branch. It was time to meet Meekal and go to the funeral.

Still a bit green around the gills, Meekal stood at the entrance to St. Mary's Chapel, greeting mourners who pa.s.sed through the arched stone doorway.

Shayla approached and gave him a quick hug. "Sorry I'm late," she whispered into his ear.

"That's all right. You didn't miss much."

"I know how lost you feel. I want to be here for you."

The arrangements for Amethyst's funeral had taken up most of the night and early morning. Preparing the roofless St. Mary's Chapel for visitors during the chilly season proved no small task. Shayla had been amazed when she discovered the ceremony would be held within these hallowed walls.

Topless and windowless, it stood in majestic beauty on the Abbey grounds. Joseph had fashioned a clear top, magically invisible to the naked eye. Its presence would help to preserve some of the warmth generated by strategically placed heaters, fueled by modern generators.

The last mourners entered. Meekal folded her hand into the crook of his arm and led the way. They walked toward the front between the folding white chairs now occupied by tearful observers. She tried to calm her rushing heart.

Whispers of curiosity reached her ears. People wondered who she was. She hoped her part in the ceremony would not be frowned upon. In an attempt to feel rea.s.surance, she clutched the silk lavender bag containing the items Joseph had requested she collect during her countryside wanderings.

The slow, step by step journey up the center isle gave her the opportunity to gather her thoughts and observe Joseph who would serve as chief mourner. The minister, standing to the left behind a podium, looked respectfully official in his black robes. The unity of different religious beliefs represented here between the interior arcading walls of St. Mary's Chapel gave witness to Amethyst Graham's benevolent spirit.

The bier beneath the white casket bore the carvings of the Vesica Piscis. The concentric circles embellished with gold and silver caught the afternoon sun. With a deep refreshing breath, Shayla squeezed Meekal's hand and stepped up onto the stone riser in accompaniment of his actions.

Despite the crowd, silence dominated within the stone walls.

Joseph, face lined with sorrow and weariness, raised his palms heavenward. Everyone stood, heads bowed in remembrance.

The moisture welled once more behind Shayla's eyelids when the sound of bagpipes came into the chapel. She knew they were close, within the broken arch of the Abbey, playing their lament.

The music brought back memories of Kat MacGreggor practicing her pipes under the Everett Road covered bridge back home in the Cuyahoga Valley National Park. The acoustics there were optimal for listening pleasure.

The sounds today, pa.s.sing around and through gothic arches hummed in her senses, journeying on the earth's ley lines into infinity. The renewed urge for home constricted her heart.

Meekal, sensing her distress, squeezed her hand.

She gave him a responsive tightening. Mom. Torn between her new life and roots of home and hearth, Shayla clung to the present moment. Meekal, she whispered repeatedly in her mind. Gradually, her heart relaxed into a steady rhythm, beating in tandem with his.

The last notes of the bagpipes resonated along the stones and hushed quiet returned.

"Everyone, please be seated." Joseph's strong baritone voice gave the impression of calmness and fort.i.tude. Rustlings filled the silence as the mourners tried to get comfortable in the wooden chairs.

"We are gathered here for a brief ceremony. Amethyst touched so many in her lifetime." His eyes crinkled into a soft smile. "As a child, she was surrounded with mischief. I remember many escapades that would curl your hair." Sad laughter shook his shoulders. "I'll keep it short because I realize many of you may wish to speak. Despite her reputation for orneriness, I prefer to tell you of the first time I met Amethyst."

His throat constricted with emotion and he raised a hand to brush moisture away quickly. "I was a small lad, lost in the countryside. Too young to wander off, I found myself frightened and sc.r.a.ped from a fall. I sat on a stone next to an old pilgrim's trail. Despite my youth, I knew I would be in serious trouble once I arrived back at home. Amidst my tears, Amethyst floated down out of the branches of Old Magog and knelt to comfort me. She was an angel in the eyes of a six year old that day." Finished, Joseph turned to Shayla.

She stepped forward and reached into the silk bag. The branch with one leaf still attached whispered to her soul. She pulled it from the sheltering depths and handed it carefully to Joseph.

"This fine young lady is Shayla Brinawell," Joseph said. "She is here with Meekal as a representative of Amethyst's newest friendship. The branch she just gave me comes from Magog, one of the sentinels into Glas...o...b..ry's Somerset. You see, Amethyst broke a branch from that gnarled old tree that day. She told me it had magical powers and would guide me home. She knew who I was, of course. She just thought I should find my own way, like the pilgrims of old. Her voice was sweet and her confidence boundless. I set off on my sojourn arriving home in time for tea. Hehem. And a rousing spanking."

Chuckles pa.s.sed through the crowd.

"I discovered later," Joseph said, pausing to laugh softly, "by listening to conversations through keyholes that twelve year old Amethyst had kept a vigilant eye on me all the way home."

Meekal smirked at his grandfather.

Joseph became serious. "She never changed. From that first encounter to the night she left us, Amethyst Elisabeth c.u.myn Graham watched over our community with constant vigilance and boundless love. She will be missed greatly, but for the knowledge that her spirit is here with us in the same capacity of guardian. For without death, we cannot experience the boundlessness of heaven and rebirth." Joseph turned and placed the branch, intertwining it with the purple blanket of roses embellishing the white iridescent finish of the casket. "Meekal," Joseph said and gave center stage to his grandson.

"Keyholes, Grandfather? Thank you for that little tidbit of information. I'll remember it always." He cleared his throat and pushed his hand through his hair. "I could begin by telling you that Amethyst was there when I took my first steps."

Someone snorted.

"Oh wait, I just did." Meekal shrugged with humor. "She wouldn't want us to be sad. I know this because she is one of the people who taught me about heaven and its splendor. I was seven. I knew of it from church-she just had a unique perspective that made it more real. As you can see, she has always had a strong influence on the Chilkwells." He dropped his gaze and took a deep breath. "Watching over us. Guiding us," he murmured low as though caught up somewhere in a memory.

Joseph placed a bracing hand on his shoulder.

"Aye," Meekal whispered. He raised his face and scanned the mourners. "She taught me many things that I will always remember. Her positive influence is a part of me-my soul, so to speak." Obviously having difficulty speaking, Meekal stiffened.

Shayla moved forward and wrapped her fingers in his. He gave her a sad smile and blinked the moisture from his eyes.

"Recently-" Meekal's voice broke. A sob came forth.

She leaned closer.

Meekal met her gaze, eyes wet, spiraling in emotional realization and turmoil. "She pa.s.sed the torch." He pulled his fingers away and brushed them over his cheeks. "I didn't comprehend it until this very moment. She was there, even in 'that' moment. I'm sorry, I just never realized and I didn't thank her." Meekal's steadfastness dissolved. He crumpled onto Shayla's shoulder, shaking and crying in mournful grief. "Thank her."

"Shush," Shayla said, rubbing his back. She had the odd sense that the only sound in the whole world at that moment came from Meekal. Everything else slid away into a vast nothingness. His twisting heart and the moisture on her neck from tears were all that existed. Strong arms encircled them both. Awareness returned, followed by sounds of other mournful keening. She chewed her lip and stepped back, fingers lingering in Meekal's hand.