4.
When the knock broke the silence of early morning calm, Sennet already knew of her visitor's arrival. The watchful oak at the end of her driveway had seen the shadow moving through the forest half an hour ago, but it had taken this long for him to gather enough courage to approach her door.
He was young, the ferns proclaimed. Young and old, said the violets she'd left in place after reorganizing the garden.
Sennet opened her kitchen door and smiled at her visitor. "Be welcome," she said to ease his obvious fear. "How may I help you?"
He was young. His face, unlined, save for worry; his hair that certain shade of brown that would shine red in full sunlight. He wore it parted in the middle and tucked behind his ears where it fell in tangled waves. He stood a full head and a half taller than Sennet, still fairly short for a man.
But his eyes were old, full of secrets and shadows, fear and uncertainty. He dropped his gaze after that first searching glance, as if fearful she would unmask him.
"You are the Healer?" He hugged his arms to his chest, obviously uncomfortable, but not wounded. He had come for someone else.
"My name is Sennet." She held the door open wider. "Won't you come in? Is there time?"
"Do you--Can you heal animals?" He spoke in a rush, his voice soft, but intense with emotion. "I wouldn't ask, but I--I saw it happen." A flush stained his neck, creeping up to color his pale cheeks. "It's my fault, really. I was in the forest and I scared him and--"
"What kind of animal?" Sennet asked, already moving into professional mode. Every little scrap of information helped.
"A dog. A puppy, really." Her visitor clenched his hands. "Someone dropped him off a week or so ago and I've been feeding him, but I--"
For the first time, Sennet noticed what he was wearing. Or, rather, what he wasn't wearing. Grass stains and mud covered bare feet that were not protected from the elements by the length of his faded jeans.
"What happened?" Sennet decided not to ask. It was none of her business whether or not he wore shoes while walking in the woods that surrounded the village of Beth-Hill. "Did he get hit by a car?" Since he showed no sign of wanting to enter her house, she stepped out onto the porch and closed the door behind her. She didn't bother to lock it. Anyone stupid enough to break into a Healer's home deserved whatever punishment she picked.
"No. He fell." His face tightened for a moment, an echo of pain. "There's an old house near--nearby. The floors aren't safe. I heard him below, but I couldn't see him. And I didn't want to leave him there."
"Does he have a name?" Sennet asked. "Do you?" She didn't have to know names, of course. And many people refused to believe that Healers were truly neutral.
Her visitor hesitated. She read the indecision in his gaze, and took pity on him. "I don't really need to know. But it helps, sometimes, if my patient is unconscious."
"He calls himself Thorn." Another hesitation then, as if he expected her to comment on his choice of words.
Sennet did not speak. She had already decided that her visitor wasn't an ordinary human. Beth-Hill had quite a large population of supernatural creatures--vampires, werewolves, selkies, and dragons, to name a few. Darkbrook, the only school of magic in the United States, was only miles away, and the Council who held the balance between the super and natural worlds had their headquarters right outside of town.
"And my name--my name is Malachi," he continued, his voice soft. He flinched a little as he spoke, as if he expected her to know that name.
Despite the fact that Sennet was the only Healer in residence, she knew she had not met everyone who lived in or around Beth-Hill. There was too much filtering back and forth from Faerie to ever know everyone.
"Well, then, Malachi. Lead on." She smiled to put him at ease, but he did not relax.
"You'll come?"
"A Healer always comes when she is called," Sennet reminded him. "Of course I'll come."
She watched him as he led her through the dew-drenched forest, and had almost decided that he had started out his day in a different shape as he inexpertly picked his way through brambles and over stones and fallen trees. They arrived at their destination before she could embarrass herself by asking.
She had passed the fieldstone mansion once before and given it a wide berth, since it had been gutted by thieves years before, leaving little of value to anyone. What was left would be riddled with termites, rot, and mold by now, even if the shell of the house still echoed its former glory.
"Inside?" she asked, her senses already searching for the distinctive trace of a life in pain. She found a weak heartbeat in a dark place below ground, and saw, in her mind's eye, a small black and white puppy curled up next to a brackish puddle of water. "He's alive," she reported, closing her eyes. "And not badly hurt. A sprained leg, I think. Maybe fractured. I'll be able to tell once I get to him."
"You can tell all of that from out here?"
She didn't really blame him for his disbelief. The only Healer nearby had been assigned to Darkbrook since it opened, and Sennet doubted she would go out of her way to rescue a hurt puppy. Oh, she'd come if Malachi asked, but that was the problem. Most people didn't want to ask. There were too many rumors about the network of Healers--some true, but most not.
A moment later, she felt another life inside the house--a familiar life--and a life within that other life. The puppy's presence vanished as if it had never existed. As Sennet turned towards Malachi for an explanation, she wondered if it ever had.
"I'm not here for a puppy," she said the obvious out loud and folded her arms. "Why the story? Why the secrecy? Healers are neutral; you should know that. And Emle and I have met before." She had wondered, over the years, if Emle and her tiny daughter had flourished.
The life inside showed no sign of physical distress. Even from this far away, Sennet could tell that this baby was both happy and healthy.
Malachi opened his mouth to answer her. Before he could speak, the presence inside the house moved, and appeared a moment later standing on the leaning porch.
She seemed no older than she was ten years ago, still more of a sylph than anything else. Youthful and lovely, she wore a voluminous top and a sensible skirt that looked to be made of silk. Her long white hair--so long that even in a braid it hit the back of her knees--shone in the sunlight that ventured through the holes in the porch roof.
"It's okay, Malachi. You may leave us if you wish."
Behind her, Sennet felt Malachi stiffen. "I will not leave you again, milady." His tone brooked no space for argument.
Sennet turned to face him. "Emle is in no danger from me," she said, offering him a smile. "Truly; you do not need to fear."
Malachi's face was stiff and unyielding. "You do not know what I fear," he whispered, unmoving.
"Malachi--" Emle's voice held no warning, but Malachi flinched as if he had been struck. He turned his back on them and sat down on the ground, his fear a palatable presence in the back of Sennet's mind.
Emle shook her head, then smiled at Sennet. "It has been a long, long time."
"And I am glad to see you well," Sennet said, and meant it. "Are you in need of my aid? Why the secrecy? If you're worried about the child, my lady, she is fine and healthy."
A curious mixture of relief and fear passed over Emle's face before she nodded. "That was one of my questions, yes. Just to make sure. And I apologize for the deception. I--I wanted to be discreet."
"If I knew your secrets, they would be safe with me," Sennet said. "Healers are neutral for a reason. Nothing happened before when I healed you."
"You can't--" Sennet heard Malachi scramble to his feet, but did not turn around. "Healers--Healers know things."
"Yes. I know." Emle hesitated, her gaze on Malachi. "Malachi, you need not be party to this. I can answer for myself."
"You doom us all," Malachi whispered, but did not make any move to leave.
"I wanted to ask if you would attend the birth of my child," Emle said, her voice soft. "I don't have anyone else to ask."
"Of course I will," Sennet said. "I would be more than happy to attend the birth of your daughter. How is Eri? I have thought of you often."
"I should not have stayed away so long," Emle said. "Eri is fine--she is quite a beautiful child."
"May I approach?" Sennet asked. "I need not touch you if you're afraid of what I might know." That was one of the true rumors. When a Healer healed, most of the time her patient's thoughts and memories were an open book, and one that it was very difficult not to read. That was the one truth that made Healers less popular than they would be otherwise. And also one of the things Sennet could do nothing about.
"You may approach," Emle said after another long look at Malachi. "But please--know nothing more than I would wish for you to know."
Sennet blinked at her in surprise. "That doesn't always work," she said, surprised Emle would know that turn of phrase.
"I am willing to take that chance," Emle said, smiling at her.
With Malachi's fear--not of Emle, but of someone or something else--a palatable presence behind her, Sennet walked up the cracked stone stairs and stepped onto the porch. When she placed her hands on Emle's protruding stomach and opened her mind to the child in her womb, she braced herself for the familiar litany of images, but nothing happened.
"Hmm." She touched the baby's mind and a swirl of curiosity met her appearance. "She's growing quickly. Two weeks? Maybe three. You don't have long to wait."
Some other emotion surged through Malachi's awareness behind her. Sennet did not turn to see the expression on his face, but a large part of his fear had fled. Was it that important that she not know who they were? She knew Emle. Or, perhaps--perhaps his fear came from something else. Where they came from?
"Two weeks," Emle said. "As far as I can tell."
"Midsummer's Eve. Not a horrible time to have a birthday."
A surge of worry almost drowned out the baby's mind.
Sennet kept the connection open and sent calming thoughts to the child, not wanting her to become overly distressed.
"And yet you're very worried about something," she said. "Your daughter can feel it."
"This is not a very--stable time for my daughter's father," Emle whispered, and even though Sennet kept her gaze down, she was certain that Emle was staring at Malachi again. "And the problem isn't something I can help with, other than to be available when he needs my support."
Sennet eased out of the connection and stepped away. "Sometimes that's all you can do," she said. "But I'll give you one warning: Your fear of the future will harm your daughter. And you don't want to hurt your health, either."
Emle's face clouded. "I have little choice in the matter, and it will be over by the time the baby is born. I am sorry again for the deception that brought you here."
Struck by a sudden thought, Sennet glanced back at Malachi, whose watchful gaze belied his earlier fear, then turned her gaze towards Emle again. "Are you in danger from the baby's father?" She'd discovered early on that domestic abuse spanned species as well as worlds. No one was immune. And despite the fact that Emle had gone back to him ten years ago, a lot could change in a decade.
"Oh, no." Emle's laughter was like the tinkle of tiny bells. "He won't harm me. And I'll try my best to make sure Malachi isn't punished for his part in this."
Sennet tested her words and found them to be truth. She would have to be satisfied with giving her warning, and leave well enough alone until the baby's birth. "Very well, then. If you have need of me before the baby is born--"
"I will send someone to find you." Emle smiled again. "Thank you, Sennet. You have relieved my mind." She moved away, her head down, her hands on her belly.
Sennet walked down the steps and onto the grass again. For a moment, she thought Malachi would let her pass without speaking, but he blinked and shook his head as if awakening from a dream.
"Can you find your way back to your house?" He met her gaze without flinching now, his face a mask.
"I'll manage." Sennet glanced back at the house, where Emle had vanished from the porch. "Will you tell me one thing, at least?"
He licked his lips. "It depends on what you want to know."
"She's not living in that house, is she?"
Her question surprised a laugh from him, and his face briefly transformed into something closer to human. "Oh, no. Not there. We have a house in Faerie."
Sennet nodded. "And is she in danger from your Master?"
"No." He did not hesitate in his denial. "He truly would not see her harmed."
"You'll come to me if that changes? Or if something happens to her?" She had a connection with Emle again; a commitment to make sure the baby was born in good health.
"If I am permitted to come," Malachi said. He smiled at the expression on her face, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. "I am sorry," he said, taking pity on her. "There is much about this that you do not know."
"I realize that," Sennet said, "but I'm also here to do my job. It's a lot easier to do if everyone isn't afraid of me."
Malachi glanced back at the empty porch. "It's not you," he said. "Not really. It's--well, our position here is precarious. And any little thing might upset that balance."
He spoke in riddles as well as an elf. "I see," Sennet said, and tried not to laugh.
"Perhaps after Midsummer's Eve, you will understand," Malachi said, his gaze flickering back to the porch. "I should go."
"Please let me know if anything happens."
His mouth twisted down into a frown. "I'll try. That's the best I can do." Before she could press for a sturdier promise, he fled, shoulders hunched as if he expected her to order him back.
With a thoughtful frown, Sennet left the house's looming shadow behind and followed the trail back to her house, using the moss on the forest floor as her guide.
Next Update: July 27th
House St. Clair Home
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