It's almost like the hard times circle 'round
A couple drops and they all start coming down
Yeah, I might feel defeated,
And I might hang my head
I might be barely breathing, but I'm not dead
Bring on the Rain—Jo Dee Messina
Two small children and a lone teenager sit at their grandmother's kitchen table, taking comfort in the familiar scent of the flowers just outside the window. It's a quiet day and the three have decided that they want to hear their grandmother's amazing story again. Narissa, the eldest, doesn't believe it had actually happened—people can't really disappear between book pages, after all—but she still loves listening to it.
Their grandmother motions for the children to follow her into the sitting room, blue eyes glittering joyfully the same way they do each time a loved one drops by. It makes her happy to know that the tale keeps her grandchildren entertained even after all these years. Narissa is of age and soon-to-be wed to the local book binder and has promised to pass the story on to her own children if her grandmother doesn't get the chance.
"Where shall I start," the grandmother asks, sitting in her comfortable old rocking chair. The three children sit on the floor in front of her, eager expressions on their faces. They all look so much like their mother that it feels as though she's just re-telling it to her daughter. It can be argued that Robert looks more like his uncle Dustin, same red highlights against the brown curls.
"With the villains," Robert shouts, bouncing up and down. His twin sister, Roslyn, just scowls.
"No, she should start where Jules falls in love!" Robert's face scrunches into an expression of disgust. Narissa shares a smile with her grandmother, allowing a childish giggle to escape. She doesn't have to be grown up here, she can be six like her younger siblings instead of twenty.
"How about Grandmother starts at the beginning," Narissa suggests. She loves all of the tale, no matter how unbelievable it is. The twins look at each other, shrug, and turn to face their grandmother again.
"It was raining that night," the gray-haired grandmother begins in her gentle voice," I'll always remember that…"
Julianne glares at her computer screen as it goes black for the third time tonight, taking her term paper and throwing it to the wind to fend for itself. I swear, the damn thing will never be finished if this rain keeps up.She waits impatiently for the computer to reboot, hoping against hope that the document has somehow been saved. It seems God is on hold at the moment because when she pulls up recovered documents the only thing there is her half-finished report over Osiris for her Egyptology class.
At her disappointed huff, Meggie lets out a small laugh. Julianne glares over her shoulder at her little sister, lips pursed as the younger girl continues to laugh.
"It's not funny, Meggs," Julianne complains. "This thing is over half my grade and if I don't have it turned in by next Tuesday, I'll fail my English class." Meggie rolls her eyes, moving to sit on the bench below Julianne's window.
Realizing she'll be getting no sympathy, Julianne sighs and turns back to the temperamental computer, pulling up yesterday's version of her term paper and glaring at all the red squiggly lines beneath a few names she'd put in for sources. Maybe I should redo my thesis statement. Maybe she should just scrap this and start all over.
"Juli," Meggie gasps suddenly," someone's out there!" Julianne moves to look out the window for herself, just happy to leave the Word document behind for a moment. She can vaguely make out the person standing in their front yard, a washed-out silhouette against a dark blur of trees. The rain makes it difficult, but she'd know that slender build anywhere. "What should we do?"
"Go get Mo." She'd kept her voice low, but the man's face turns in their direction all the same, like he can hear their whispers in spite of the downpour. Are your ears burning, she wonders and narrows her eyes.
Meggie hurries out of the bedroom and down the hall to their dad's office while Juli continues to watch the man, her fingers trembling where they grip her windowsill. If he can find them so far from their last home, then the others can as well. To say it's a comforting thought is like saying Smaug is just a little prickly.
With a shaky breath, she moves away from her perch on the bench and takes a couple of steps backwards in case someone else is lurking beneath her window. It's happened before and she doubts those crows are above using the same trick twice. Villains are hardly an original lot, these ones even less so.
Meggie and Mo enter the room then, Mo joking about the situation until he spots the man. His face pales and his lighthearted mood vanishes, lips drawn down into a deep frown that conveys the dread coiling in Julianne's belly. It's like when you wake in the middle of the night, mouth dry and the need for water almost overwhelming, but there's always that fear of setting your feet on the floor only to have a clawed hand shoot out from under you bed and drag you into its lair.
"You promised no one would break into our house," Meggie is saying," that we had nothing worth stealing." But they do, hidden away and wrapped in a plain brown sack in a secret room.
"He's not a burglar," Mo replies, stepping away from the window and gesturing for Meggie to do the same. "Go to bed, your sister and I will see to him." Mo leaves the room without another word, Meggie staring after him with her mouth slightly open and confused anger coloring her cheeks a light red.
Julianne follows after Mo with Meggie at her heels, coming into the living room in time to see to unlocking the front door and opening it to stare out into the night.
"Dustfinger!" A cold wind blows rain and leaves inside, nearly swallowing Mo's shout. "Is that you?" He doesn't really need to ask, Dustfinger is the only person that's capable of tracking them down so swiftly.
Julianne doesn't think Dustfinger's going to come in at first, but then she hears the squelching of his footsteps, slight sucking noises whenever he walks through the mud. He comes out of the darkness like a ghost, one second there's an empty doorframe and the next he's standing there, his long coat and ginger hair dripping water on the mat. His eyes land on Mo first, then drift over to where the girls are huddled. They're pale blue and hold a sorrow like Julianne has never seen before, bright and accusing.
He wipes his face on the sleeve of his coat before offering Mo his hand to shake. "Silvertongue," he greets. "How are you?" Silvertongue. Julianne hates the name that was given to Mo all those years ago, tying into the bad night when everything had been sucked away all because of a book. "It's been a long time."
"Not long enough," Julianne grumbles, folding her arms across her chest. His gaze lands on her again, intense and unafraid. She can feel heat creep up her neck and to her cheeks, giving her complexion a hint of red. "How long have you been outside? You were creeping out my sister." Now his eyes land on Meggie and she moves closer to her older sister, one of her hands curling into a fist. Meggie is a strong girl and can take care of herself in most situations, but this is a different matter entirely and Julianne wants her nowhere near it.
"Ah yes, your little sister…. Meggie, isn't it?" Mo nods resignedly, shutting the door on the cold, but it never truly leaves them. Julianne shivers, moving to stand half in front of Meggie in a protective gesture she's been practicing most of her life. She won't let anyone hurt her sister if she can help it. "She's grown since last I saw her. How old is she now?"
"Twelve," Mo answers, locking both locks on the front door. Dustfinger's eyes widen in disbelief as he pushes some of his shoulder-length hair out of his face. Julianne's gaze is drawn to his face, or more accurately, the scars that mar it; three pale lines nearly covered by ginger stubble he's let grow. Basta gave them to him, she knows, a jealous rage that backfired on the henchman.
"Yes," Dustfinger nods slowly," she was three then... And Julianne was eleven." Dustfinger smiles at Meggie, a strange smile that both draws Julianne in and unnerves her. It's familiar, part of her childhood, and nothing good ever comes from it.
"Come on, I'll see if I can find you some dry clothing while Julianne puts Meggie to bed." Meggie scowls as Julianne wraps an arm about her shoulders and leads her in the opposite direction that Mo and Dustfinger go in, taking her to her room.
"Who is that man," Meggie demands the moment they're alone in her room. "How does he know Mo and why do I get a bad feeling whenever I look at him?"
"You don't need to worry about him," Julianne replies, forcing the girl to lie back on the bed and pulling the covers up to her chin. "As for why you get a bad feeling, that's just common sense." Meggie lets out an impatient huff, turning on her side and putting her back to Julianne. "I'm sorry, Meggie, but that's the truth of it and all you need to know right now. He'll be gone in the morning and, with luck, we'll never see him again."
Meggie says nothing as her sister leaves the room, shutting the door behind her and making her way to Mo's workshop while dodging the numerous piles of haphazardly stacked books. Julianne lets out the breath she'd been holding once she's in the workshop, the familiar smell of leather washing over her and calming her.
"How'd you find us," she asks, meeting Dustfinger's gaze head-on. "Why can't you just leave us alone and stalk someone else?" He looks away from her, absently petting Gwin until the marten snaps at him and crawls into his pack to sleep.
Mo opens the door soon after, holding an old tray with three cups and a teapot. Julianne moves to take it from him and sets it down on the work table behind the fire-dancer. He smells of rain and the woods, a pleasant scent that she could easily grow used to. She blushes again, hiding her face behind a curtain of dark hair.
"Do you have the book?" The book, that's what his visits are always about; the book that ruined everything. Julianne passes out the cups of tea, handing Mo his with a soft smile and avoiding looking at the other man until she's forced to sit on the only stool left.
"It doesn't matter if I have the book," Mo tells him. His voice has a musical cadence to it even when he's barely talking above a mumble, something several people envy him for. My voice only sounds like that when I sing, but I can't read things out of books like him. "Even if I did, Capricorn doesn't know where we are or if we even havethe book." But they do, safely hidden away in a place where it can do no harm. She hates that book more than she's ever hated anything in her life and she has a pretty long list.
"Don't underestimate him!" Dustfinger's voice is gruff, but likable enough. "He'll do anything, and I do mean anything, to get his hands on it." His gaze cut to Julianne for a moment before returning to Mo's worried face. Her eyes widen at his implication, shuffling uncomfortably on the stool.
"Don't be so crude in front of her." But his gaze has dropped to the floor, one finger absently tracing the rim of his cup. "There's no reason for her to have more nightmares than usual."
"I know that look, Silvertongue. You're too stubborn for your own good. You disregarded my warning before and didn't leave in time to escape his men. You saw what they almost did to Julianne!" She flinches at the unpleasant memory, hating Dustfinger for bringing it up.
With her eyes closed, she can see the man towering over her, gagging at the memory of mint as Basta straddles her stomach. His knife is cold where it's pressed against her cheek, threatening to cut into her like he'd done to Dustfinger. With a near violent shudder, she pushes the unwanted memory away and focuses back on the conversation.
"Come with me and I'll take you to him." Dustfinger stirs some sugar into his tea, the sound loud in the heavy silence. "Capricorn thinks highly of your gift and he wouldn't allow harm to befall your children if they do as they're instructed. He's been looking for a new singer and the little bird would make him happy." Another nickname she despises, though this one she can't quite figure out. She's nothing like a bird and she's certainly not little anymore.
"I don't know," Mo says, unsure. "I'll have to think about it. When do you suppose the others will get here?"
"Soon!"
"Come back tomorrow after one thirty, I'll be picking Meggie up before then. Do you have somewhere to sleep?"
"I always find a place. I'm managing better these days, though it is still much too fast for me." He chuckles dryly, shouldering his pack and making Gwin let out an annoyed sound. He holds out his hand to shake Mo's again, then Julianne's. He gives her a long look, as though seeing something in her eyes he didn't quite like.
"I've got to go work on my paper," she says, sliding off the stool. "I'll see you both tomorrow." Julianne presses a kiss against Mo's cheek before heading back to her room. The computer screensaver is bouncing from one side of the screen to the other and she can't bring herself to disrupt it. She's been working on that paper for a month and she's tired. Julianne climbs into her bed with the blankets pulled up to her chin, feeling like a scared child again.
Tonight is going to be long and filled with nightmares, as it always was after a visit from Dustfinger, and tomorrow will be even longer.