Enchantment Read online

  She felt Pam’s hand on her arm, gently tugging. “Come on, Holly. Really, this isn’t safe.”

  Reluctantly she straightened. “I did see something.”

  “I believe you.”

  Holly met Pam’s gaze and was startled by the worry in her eyes. If Pam told Madison about this, Mad might tell Dad and that could be a pain. She managed a wry smile.

  “Maybe it was one of those koi.”

  “Some of them are really huge. Like three feet.”

  “Wow.”

  Holly got up and walked back to the shore with Pam, resisting the urge to keep starting at the water. She wasn’t going to see any more. That spirit had fled from her.

  Maybe the lake spirits weren’t as friendly as Ohlan. Maybe they had to be careful since there were so many people around. What if someone saw one and told the cops there was a dead body in the lake? That could cause all sorts of disruption.

  As they walked back to the townhouse, she tried to imagine what it would be like for a guardian spirit in this lake, what they would have to watch out for. Protecting all the ducks and fish. Watching over all the critters that came to the lake.

  Keeping people from drowning? Was that what the mermaid had done for Pam?

  “Did your mermaid have a fish tail?” she asked.

  “Honestly, I don’t remember.”

  OK, Pam didn’t want to talk about it any more. Holly could take a hint.

  “So, why did you decide to study nursing?”

  Pam was happy to talk about that. Holly listened to her cheerful chatter, asking another question whenever Pam slowed down. It was safe, and it got them back to the townhouse.

  “Thanks for coming with me,” Holly said, smiling as they passed through the patio. “And thanks for bringing the bread crumbs. That was fun.”

  Pam smiled back. “Sure.”

  The TV was on in the living room, and Pam went in to watch. Holly slipped into the kitchen to check on the sauce. It was sticking a little on the bottom, but hadn’t burned. She stirred it, then got out a big pot and set water to boil for the pasta.

  While she fixed the salad, she kept thinking about the water spirit in the lake. She wanted to go back and try to see her again. She’d probably have to go by herself, though, judging from the way Pam had freaked out. And she wasn’t sure if she’d have the chance.

  When the water boiled, she put in the pasta and checked her watch, then fixed the garlic bread and put it in the oven. With a few minutes to wait, she went out to the living room. Madison was stretched out on the sofa, and Pam and Sheila were lounging in chairs. Sheila looked up with a grin.

  “Smells great!”

  “Thanks. I was wondering if you want to eat at the table, or in here.”

  “Usually we eat in here, like a bunch of slobs.”

  Pam shot her a glance. “We could eat at the table.”

  “I don’t care, really,” Holly said. “Just wanted to know what’s the routine.”

  “The routine is the microwave special du jour, so that doesn’t count,” said Sheila, standing up. “And since there’s nothing but reruns on, I propose we eat at the table like civilized people, in honor of Holly’s artistry.”

  “Don’t say that until you taste it,” said Mad. “Her cooking can be hit or miss.”

  Holly walked over to the sofa, pulled one of the cushions from behind Mad’s head, and bopped her in the stomach with it. “Hit or miss my ass.”

  “OK, so it’s more hit than miss.” Madison laughed as Holly continued to wield the cushion. “Oof, enough!”

  Mad grabbed hold of the cushion and tugged. Holly lost her balance, tumbling onto the sofa top of her sister.

  Sheila applauded. “Fight! Fight!”

  Holly disentangled herself and stood up, brushing her hair out of her face. Madison held onto the cushion.

  “Aww! Rematch!” said Sheila.

  Holly checked her watch. “Nah, I’ve got to drain the spaghetti. Dinner’s almost ready.”

  “Hurrah!” Sheila followed her to the kitchen and got out plates and silverware. “I think we’ve got a bottle of red wine. Oops! Sorry.”

  “It’s OK. If you guys want to have wine it’s fine with me.”

  Sheila grinned. “You are awesome.”

  Pleased, Holly got to work draining the pasta and setting out all the food on the kitchen counter, buffet style, since the dinette table was just big enough for four people to sit around. By the time she had everything ready, Sheila had finished setting the table. She’d put out four wine glasses, and commandeered Holly’s shot glass of pansies for a centerpiece.

  Holly went to the doorway. “Dinner’s served.”

  Pam shut off the TV and came to the kitchen, followed by Madison. Sheila was already dishing up.

  “This is great!” she said, adding garlic bread to her plate. “You’re hired!”

  Mad shot a sharp glance at her, but Sheila didn’t see it. Holly got into line behind her sister.

  “Everything looks wonderful, Holly!” said Pam over her shoulder. “Thank you for doing this!”

  “Thanks for letting me crash here,” Holly said. “It’s really nice of you guys. I know it was kind of short notice.”

  “Hey, better now than next week,” Sheila said, opening the wine. “This is a good time.”

  They all settled at the table while Sheila poured. She hesitated over Holly’s glass, looking at Madison. “Just a taste?”

  “Yes, please,” Holly said. “Our folks let us have wine at home.”

  She looked at Mad, ready for a challenge, but Mad just shrugged. Sheila poured a third of a glass for Holly, then set the bottle by the pansies and raised her own glass.

  “To the chef!”

  You weren’t supposed to drink a toast to yourself, Holly remembered, so she smiled her thanks, then picked up her fork and spun up a bite of pasta. Everyone dug in, chatting about the day. Holly mostly listened while she sipped at her wine, curious to learn more about Mad’s roommates. She already liked Pam, and Sheila was funny and interesting. Sheila also loved to talk; she dominated the dinner conversation with stories about the CU theater department.

  When they were finished, they piled plates in the kitchen sink and retired to the living room to watch TV, again a crime show. At the first commercial break Holly brought out bowls of chocolate pudding for everyone, then at the next break she collected the empty bowls and took them to the kitchen.

  Pam was there ahead of her, rinsing dishes and loading them into the dishwasher. She took the bowls from Holly.

  “Thanks. Now, shoo! You cooked, so you don’t have to clean.”

  “I don’t mind—“

  “Nope. House rules.” Pam shot her a smile. “Thanks again for the dinner. It was fantastic. A real treat.”

  Holly blushed. “You’re welcome.”

  She wasn’t that interested in the TV show, so she fetched her book and a sweater and went out to the patio to read. She was a lot more comfortable tonight; sharing a meal had made her feel more at home. Lounging with her feet on a plastic footstool, she opened Amanda’s memoir.

  And was suddenly homesick. She’d only been gone a day, but Amanda’s description of the mountains, hiking in the forest, and picking raspberries made her long to be back in Las Palomas. She read hungrily, seeing in her mind the places Amanda wrote about. When Amanda described hiking up to Enchantment Spring, the skin on her arms started to tingle.

  The trail is faint, no more than a game track leading up into the woods. I learned of it from one of the teachers at the school, who used to take the boys up there on trail rides, but I never went there myself until after the government came. Needing escape one Saturday afternoon, and not having had the forethought to apply for a permit to leave town, I hiked up the mountain instead.

  I could tell when I was getting close to the spring because the bushes grew thicker and more lush, and the ground became spongy and damp. I had to push my way through a thicket of scrub oak to find the spring i
tself, which seemed such a tiny pool of water. Looks are deceiving, however. That small pool fed a large thicket and nurtured many birds and animals. Enchantment was exactly the right name.

  Holly paused, glancing up at the pots of flowers all around, trying to visualize the spring surrounded by such lushness. She wished she could have seen it. There were a few bushes and plants now, but nothing like Amanda described.

  Where did the water go now? That awful concrete coffin held some of it, but the spring was constantly flowing. The water must drain off somewhere. It wasn’t going into the ground any more; there was no sponginess, no thicket hiding the spring. Maybe it was getting piped away. Frowning, she went back to the book.

  Here is a story about Enchantment Spring. It may or may not be true.

  Long ago on the mesa there was a village. One hot summer the village well went dry, and the people had to go up to the spring for water. Every morning they brought their jars and filled them, then carried them back to the village.

  One day a maiden was late going up with her water jar. She was the last to leave the village, and on her way up the trail she passed other villagers coming down, their jars full and sloshing. She worried the spring would not have enough water left to fill her jar.

  When she reached the spring all the others had gone. Kneeling by the pool, she laid her jar on its side in the water, but it was not deep enough to reach the mouth. The spring was flowing, but slowly. It would take time to fill the pool again. She had not brought a dipper gourd with her, so she could not fill her jar that way.

  She wept, fearing her mother’s anger. Her tears fell into the spring, and then a miracle happened.

  Her jar sank into the pool and disappeared completely. A moment later it rose out again, upright and filled with sparkling water. The maiden picked it up, marveling, then set it safely on the ground beside the pool.

  “Thank you!” she said. “Thank you spirit of the spring!”

  And the spirit answered. He rose out of the pool, pale and beautiful, clad in fabric like rippling water. His smile was warm as sunshine.

  “I have been waiting for you,” he said.

  Holly snapped the book shut. Her breaths came short and fast. She could hardly believe it, but there was only one explanation.

  Amanda had met Ohlan.

  ~ 6 ~

  Holly got up and started pacing the patio. Her feelings were all in a jumble. Excitement, because Amanda’s story confirmed Ohlan’s existence. Frustration, because she couldn’t show it to Mad as proof; it was phrased like a legend, though she suspected Amanda had just made it up.

  There was no village maiden, and no water jar. Amanda was really talking about herself. Holly was sure of it.

  And that made her jealous.

  She glared at the book, lying on the chair where she’d left it. Stupid to think she was the only one who’d ever discovered Ohlan. He had told her himself there were others. She’d asked if he’d been in love and he’d said he had.

  She closed her eyes. This was crazy. She shouldn’t let it get to her like this. She’d kind of fallen for Ohlan.

  OK, not kind of. She’d fallen for him, hard.

  But he wasn’t human. He couldn’t leave the spring. What kind of a relationship could he offer her, really?

  Sighing, she returned to her chair and picked up the book. She had to read more; had to find out the rest about Ohlan and Amanda, though she wasn’t sure she really wanted to know.

  She sat down and found the page she’d been on. There wasn’t a lot more to the “story” of the village maid and the water spirit. He proclaimed his love for her, she fell into his arms. End of chapter.

  The next chapter was about the secret defense project. Holly flipped forward through the rest of the book, then checked the index at the end. There was nothing more about Enchantment Spring.

  Frustrated, she got up and went into the townhouse. The TV was still on; Mad and Shelly were watching. Holly traded the book for her laptop and went back to the patio. The wireless connection reached out there, so she brought up a browser and searched on Amanda’s name. She wanted to find out more about the writer’s relationship with Ohlan.

  If she was lucky, she’d find an email address for Amanda. Even if she could just get Amanda to confirm that she’d met Ohlan, she could show that to Madison. Then Mad would have to admit she wasn’t nuts.

  The search brought up mostly library catalog entries for the memoir. Apparently it was the only book Amanda had written. Holly skimmed the search results, and on the second page she found a link to a newspaper item. She followed it and found herself reading an obituary.

  Amanda had died of cancer in 1992. She’d been seventy-nine.

  Well, crap. So much for confirmation.

  Holly closed her laptop and sat thinking. So, OK—Amanda wasn’t available to confirm Ohlan’s existence. Maybe she didn’t need to prove he existed. What was more important was finding out how to help him regain his strength, and there was someone nearby who might have an answer for that.

  She stood up and set her computer down on her chair, then stepped to the glass door and looked in. Through a gap in the blinds she could see Madison lying on the sofa, apparently absorbed in the TV show.

  Holly went to the back gate, opened it, slipped through, and quietly closed it again. She’d have to make this quick.

  There were lights along the path around the lake, but the grass between was unilluminated. Holly didn’t know the ground well enough to run in the dark, and she didn’t want to trip over a sprinkler or something, so she walked fast until she got to the lakeside path. Then she ran, heading for the cluster of trees and the dock where she’d seen Pam’s mermaid.

  She slowed when she reached the dock, out of breath from the run. The trees blocked most of the light from the nearest lamppost, casting restless dappled shadows onto the dock. Holly hadn’t noticed the breeze before, but now she did. A chill wind blowing down out of the mountains.

  Glad that she’d put on her sweater, she stepped onto the dock and walked out to the end. No moon tonight; the water was pitch black, with only occasional small glints from the lamps dancing on its surface. Holly looked down at it anyway, thinking about seeing into the lake.

  “I’d like to talk to you,” she said. “I have a question.”

  She waited, but heard only the water lapping at the pylons that supported the dock. A distant burst of laughter made her look up, but it was from onshore; some kids messing around on the other side of the lake. Holly turned her attention back to the water.

  “I know you’re there. I have a friend like you. He’s the guardian of a spring near where I live.”

  She knelt down, hoping that getting closer to the water would help. She remembered that when she’d first seen Ohlan, it had been after she touched the water in the spring.

  She stretched out her arm, but the dock was too high for her reach the surface of the lake. She leaned forward as far as she dared. A gust of wind pushed at her, and she felt herself losing her balance.

  Twisting sideways, she grabbed at the dock and managed to fall on her side on the wood, just short of the edge. At the same time she heard a splash.

  Crap, had she dropped something? Breathing fast, she rolled over, sat up, and peered at the water.

  Someone was there.

  Holly could see her perfectly despite the darkness. Head and shoulders above the water, she looked pearly, not quite glowing. A round face, with large, slightly slanted eyes. The face Holly had seen earlier that day. A small shiver went through her.

  “Hi,” she said.

  The water spirit watched her, waiting, eyes wary. Holly shifted to a more comfortable position.

  “My friend is weak, and we don’t know why. He can’t go very far from his spring. Do you know what could cause that?”

  “The spring could be failing,” said the spirit. Her voice sounded like the wind in the rushes nearby.

  “Failing?” Holly frowned.

  Dying, she
meant. Ohlan dying?

  “Could there be some other reason? Some kind of magical attack?”

  The spirit laughed, a whispering sound. “You humans are obsessed with magic. You think it is an object, a tool to be picked up and used. The only magic is the life that flows through everything.”

  “But why would the spring fail?”

  “Life ebbs as well as flows, child.”

  And Ohlan’s life was ending? No. She wouldn’t accept that.

  “Isn’t there anything I can do?”

  The spirit tilted her head, gazing at Holly with an expression of pity, a hint of a smile. It made Holly angry.

  “Hey, lookie here!”

  Holly jumped, then turned her head. The kids who’d been goofing around across the lake had come to the dock. There were five of them, boys her age or a little younger, in ripped up baggy jeans and muscle shirts. The one in front had black hair and a tattoo on his bare shoulder. He grinned.

  “Whatcha doin’ out here, baby? Fishing?”

  Holly looked back at the water, but the spirit was gone. She scrambled to her feet, heart pounding.

  She could jump in the lake, but she probably couldn’t get away that way. They could run around the shore faster than she could swim. Would they give up and go away, or chase for the fun of catching her?

  The black-haired guy set a foot on the dock. The others closed in behind him. Holly shoved her hand in her pocket, but she hadn’t brought her cell phone.

  “Is there a problem here?” said a deep voice.

  Holly glanced past the boys and saw a policeman. A nice, big, burly policeman with a nice, big gun on one hip and a nightstick on the other. Relief flooded her.

  The boys froze in their tracks; the black-haired one scowled. The policeman looked from them to Holly.

  “You with them?”

  “No, sir. I’ve never seen them before.”

  “Move along then, boys.”

  The black-haired guy flashed Holly a look of pure hate, then backed off. He put on a smile for the cop, pushing one of his buddies into another, jostling and laughing. The cop stood watching while they ambled away, then looked at Holly.