Five: A Maor Novel (Maor series) (9 page)

‘Right, Bluebell?’ Nan says, after a while. ‘What would
you like to know?’

Chapter
12

Uncertainty

Tastes like: A new recipe.

Smells like: A stranger.

Sounds like: The ‘Um’ in a
sentence.

Feels like: The scales of a
snake, slippery smooth and dangerous at the same time.

Looks like: A hand,
hovering over a plate of sweets.

There are a million questions whizzing around in my
head. I’m afraid I won’t remember them all and I have no idea where to start.

‘Start with the most obvious questions, dear,’ Nan says.
I give her a suspicious look and wonder if reading minds is one of her ‘talents’.

‘Okay,’ I say. The picture of Tinkerbell with her little
fairy wings and wand pops up in my mind. ‘Which of the myths are true and which
aren’t?’

‘There are a lot of myths, dear. You’ll have to be more
specific.’

‘Like fairies stealing children and playing tricks on
people.’

‘Hmf!’ says Sandra, ‘It’s easy to blame what you don’t
understand.’

 
‘What do you
mean?’ I slice a tomato in half and turn to look at Sandra but it is Nan who
answers.

‘There was once a time when we did
not
hide. The
Maor
lived
side by side with humans and there was no need to conceal our talents, but the
humans did not understand our kind and many of them were afraid of our
abilities. So, for every unexplained calamity or natural disaster, they were
quick to blame us and the stories spread. They resulted in many unfair
persecutions and even deaths. After the Salem witch hunt, we went into hiding
and slowly moved in amongst the humans.’

‘So the Salem witches were actually
Maor
?’ I ask.

‘Some of them,’ Nan replies, ‘but there were many
innocent human victims too.’

‘So,
none
of
the myths are true?’

‘There are some truths in the stories,’ Nan says,
folding her hands into her lap. ‘Myths arise from true events, recounted and
embellished with each telling, until the short woman becomes an inch tall and
the man who jumped across a stream becomes a winged creature who can fly. Of
course, unless you know the origin of each story, it’s impossible to identify how
much of it is embellishment. Perhaps the man was really a
Maor
who flew over the stream but he most certainly did not have
wings.’

‘I see,’ I say, dicing the tomato and sliding the small
squares to the side of the cutting board, ‘so if the myths about fairy wings
aren’t true, then what about werewolves, vampires and witches?’

‘All of those things are
Maor
descendant, Bluebell. They are just names given to groups of
Maor
who have fallen prey to the lure of
power and practice a certain art or ritual. Weres are named so because, like
wolves, they hunt and eat raw meat because it gives them heightened senses and animal-like
abilities. Vampires drink blood, it gives them extended life-span, speed and
quick healing. Witches practice either dark, or healing arts.’

‘So how can I tell them apart from the
Maor
?’
 

‘The only way you would be able to identify these various
factions, is by their eye color and their aura.’

‘Eye color?’

Nan frowns.

‘You need to be more observant, Shaylee,’ she scolds,
‘look at the three of us.’

I look from Nan, to Sandra, and think of the green-grey
hue of Kael’s eyes, the aqua of Tristan’s and the emerald of my own.

‘We all have green eyes,’ I say.

Nan nods.

‘The shade of our eyes says a lot about each of us, it
denotes the purity of our blood and the extent of our talents. Those who mess
with dark practices taint their auras, and this changes the color of their
eyes.’

‘So do vampires really have red eyes?’ I ask.

Nan laughs and shakes her head.

‘You’ve seen too many movies. A vampire might have brown
eyes, perhaps black. They might appear bloodshot, depending on the amount of
blood consumed. A Were’s eyes often look hazel but jaundiced.’

‘But, humans have brown or hazel eyes too,’ I say.

It feels a little strange to say ‘humans’, like it’s
something apart from what I am.

‘Right,’ Nan says. ‘So, unless you know they are
Maor
, the only full-proof way of
identifying other factions is through their auras, however, the ability to see
auras is not a common
Maor
talent.’

‘So, how am I supposed to protect myself then?

‘That’s what you have Kael for,’ Nan says.

Kael’s name sends a ripple down my spine. I want to ask
Nan about the electrical connection between us but it feels somehow too
intimate. What if what happens when Kael touches me
isn’t
normal? What if it
is
?

I grab a cucumber and start slicing, keeping my voice
neutral and my next question vague.

‘How does this
seastnan
thing work?’

‘Well,’ Nan says, ‘it’s actually very similar to the
blood promise, except that a blood promise mate is chosen, whereas a
seastnan
is born of a specific
bloodline.’

‘Chosen? Who chooses?’

‘The
Tanistry
.’

‘What’s that?’

‘It’s our governing body,’ Nan says, ‘but you’ll learn
more about them in
Maor
history
lessons.’

‘History lessons?’

‘Yes, dear,’ Nan replies, ‘all of our children attend
Saturday history lessons from age eight to twelve. You’ve missed out on them
and have a lot of catching up to do.’

The idea of attending class with a bunch of eight to
twelve year olds doesn’t particularly appeal to me, but I’ll grab every chance
I can, to learn more about the
Maor
–
about who and what I really am.

‘What else will I learn about?’ I ask.

‘Many things,’ Nan replies, ‘some important historical
events, how our society works, where everyone fits in, how we interact with
humans, our talents and most importantly, about our link to this forest.’
  
 
 

‘What do you mean by ‘our link to this forest’, Nan?’
 

‘We are completely interdependent. Without us, the
forest will die; without the forest, we are nothing.’

‘So…if something happens to the forest we would all
die?’

 
‘No, but it’s the
forest that gives us our magic. Without it, we would be nothing more than
human.’

I ponder this a moment, as I slide the quartered slices
of cucumber into the salad bowl. A thought enters my mind and I bite my lip
again.

‘But what about mom and dad? They left the forest.’

Nan glances sharply at me.

‘That was different.’

I open my mouth to ask why but shut it quickly when I
see the look that passes over her face.
Okay
,
guess I’ll file that one away for another
day
.
 

‘So, how
do
we
protect the environment?’ I ask, choosing what I think to be a more neutral
topic. ‘I mean, at the rate our forests are being cut down…’

‘We do what we can through the organizations and groups
we have set up, like Green Peace, World Wildlife Fund, the Forest stewardship
council and the United Nations Environmental program, to name but a few. We
study and work in fields relating to the protection, research and development
of the environment and wildlife. Of course, we also use our ‘talents’ to grow
and protect the forest, but those things are done behind the scenes.’
 

Sandra limps around the counter, a pile of plates in her
hands and begins to set the long dining table. I grab the pile of cutlery off
the counter and set the table beside her; like it’s something natural we’ve
done all our lives. I like the feeling.

I’m just formulating my next question from the mental
list I made last night, when Kent and Jake come bundling in through the kitchen
door. Kael trails behind them at a more sedate pace and the kitchen erupts into
a kind of ordered chaos as plates are filled and dishes get passed around. Everyone
takes their seats and I end up between Kael and his brother.
 

I smile and give short answers when Kent and Jake try to
draw me into conversation, preferring to just sit and watch the family dynamics
at play. Everything about the Gregor family is warm, sunny and loud. In
contrast, Kael sticks out like a sore thumb. He sits quietly and chews his
food, eyes on his plate. Every now and then, I catch him looking at me out of
the corner of his eye, but he is quick to divert his gaze when I try to meet
his eyes. I wonder who he inherited his intense nature from. His mom? His dad?
Where are his parents anyway?

‘So Shaylee,’ Kent says, interrupting my thoughts, ‘is
my big brother here going to let you join in the outdoor festival next week?’

Let me
?

‘Outdoor festival?’ I ask.

‘Yip,’ Kent shoves a brochure at me. ‘The Forest of Dean
nine day outdoor festival. It happens every spring. There are tons of outdoor
activities planned like abseiling, caving at Clearwell, cycling tours and-’

‘Cycling? I love cycling!’ I exclaim, then my face falls.
‘Problem is you need a bicycle for that…’

‘I have a spare mountain bike you could use,’ Kent
volunteers.

‘When is it?’

‘Next Sunday,’ he says, ‘a bunch of us from Aylburton are
going to do a trail along the Severn. You and Kael can meet us at the memorial
hall, that is, if Kael’s up to the challenge…’

Kent throws his brother a daring look and earns a glare
in return.

‘Of course, I’ll take her myself if you’re too -’

‘She’s not going anywhere with you,’ Kael growls.

‘Oh, come on,’ Kent retorts, dropping his fork with a
loud clatter. ‘I’m just as capab - ’

‘That’s enough boys!’ Jake interrupts. ‘Kael, you’ll
cycle with Shaylee. I think it’s a great opportunity for her to meet some of
the other
Maor
her age.’

An awkward silence ensues as the boys glare at each
other across me.

I clear my throat. ‘That was so lekker, Mrs. Gregor,’ I
say, trying to dispel some of the tension. It seems to work because everyone
looks at me.

‘What did you say?’ Kent asks.

I give him a quizzical look and wonder what I’ve said
wrong. ‘I just said thanks.’

‘No, that word you used – what was it? Lak or something’

‘Oh,’ I smile. ‘It’s Afrikaans.
Lekker
. It means great or tasty.’

‘Lekker?’ Kent repeats the word in his very English
accent and I giggle. ‘Thanks Grams that was lekker!’

I giggle again and soon everyone is laughing and trying
to pronounce the foreign word, except for Kael. Sandra starts to clear away the
dirty plates and I stand to help her, but she waves me away.

‘I’ve got it, love. You go sit on the porch with Kael. I
think you two have some things to talk about.’

Kael and I look at each other and I wonder if he’s
wishing Sandra hadn’t spoken, but he turns toward the door and I follow him
out.

Chapter
13

Smothered

Tastes like: Pancakes
drowning in maple syrup.

Smells like: Stale air.

Sounds like: Heavy metal
music.

Feels like: A heavy woolen
blanket, covering your fever-ridden body.

Looks like: A snake’s jaws,
wrapped tightly over a zebra’s snout.

I follow Kael back through the house to the front porch,
where he perches himself on the top wooden step, long legs spanning the stairs
to the ground. I sit beside him, loop my arms around my knees and stare out at the
shadowed forest that edges the garden. The silence between us is awkward and
once again, I feel too embarrassed to ask the questions that are really on my
mind, so I opt for a vague question.

‘So, how does this bodyguard thing work then?’ I ask.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Do you like, go to school with me or what?’

‘Yes,’ he says. I wait a moment for him to elaborate but
when he doesn’t, I prompt:

‘So you’re studying English then too?’

‘Is that what you’re studying?’

I nod and swallow as his eyes flicker across my face,
like that isn’t quite what he expected of me. He turns back to his pensive
study of the tree-line.

‘No,’ he says simply.

I’m beginning to feel irritated by his monosyllabic
responses.

‘No, you’re
not
studying English?’

‘No.’

‘Then how will you -’

Kael cuts me off with an amused laugh and leans back on
one arm.

‘You haven’t changed much,’ he says.

I drop one leg to the step below and twist to glare at
him. I want to tell him that he knows nothing about me, but the implication of
his words stops me.

‘Wait - you knew me before we left England?’

Kael shoots me a disbelieving look.

‘You don’t remember?’

‘Remember what?’

He frowns and searches my face – for what, I’m not sure.

‘Do you remember
anything
about living here?’

‘Very little,’ I say. I drop my eyes to my lap and bite
my bottom lip. This is not a topic I feel comfortable discussing. There are too
many gaps in my memory and it makes me feel a little sad. ‘I was pretty young
so it’s always been a little -’

‘Hazy,’ Kael and I say the last word in unison.

We stare at each other and he gives me an odd, almost
pitying look.

‘Well, I’ll be…they actually did it…’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Nothing.’ He looks strangely hurt, but quickly shutters
his expression.

‘I see you still bite your lip -’ he observes, in a
voice that has switched from vulnerable to aggressive in the space of a
sentence. His tone automatically makes me defensive.

‘I do not -’ I stop short, realizing that my bottom lip
is indeed, between my teeth.

Kael takes one look at my cornered expression and quite
unexpectedly, bursts out laughing. I watch in astonishment as tiny creases
appear at the corners of his lips, transforming him into a young, carefree boy,
leaving no trace of the serious young man from moments before.

I say nothing for a while, and just watch the laughter
ripple across his features, certain that such an occurrence is rare, and
mesmerized by the beauty of his slightly off-kilter smile.

‘How come you and Kent are so different?’ I wonder and
bite my lip again when I realize I’ve spoken out aloud.

Kael stops laughing. I feel an inexplicable
disappointment as the little boy slips behind the dark mask of his frown.

‘That’s an odd question.’ His reply has a defensive edge
to it. ‘Just because we’re brothers doesn’t mean we should be the same, does
it?’

‘Of course not,’ I say quickly, ‘but Kent is so much
like your grandfather and I was just wondering who
you
took after in your family?’

Kael’s brow creases and he looks past me. One side of
his face catches the sinking sun-rays, the other is hidden in the deep shadows
of the afternoon.

‘I guess I’m a lot like my father was.’

For a split-second, his expression looks so forlorn,
that I reach out to him.

‘I’m sorry. What -’

 
My hand connects
with his forearm and he jerks to his feet.

‘I think we should lay down some rules.’ The soft edge
in Kael’s voice has been replaced with a sudden sharpness and his eyes are once
again shuttered with that familiar, passion-sorrow expression I am beginning to
associate with him.

‘Rules?’ I push to my feet and turn toward him, arms
crossed over my chest. He’s used one of my least favorite words of all time.

‘Number one: you go
nowhere
without me.’

‘What do you mean
nowhere
?’

‘I mean
nowhere
.
I need to know where you are at all times.’

‘That’s a bit extreme, don’t you think?’ I ask, feeling
my defenses rise in natural response to his sharp tone.

‘That’s how it’s got to be. Rule number two -’

‘Just how many rules are there?’

‘Number two,’ he repeats with a hard look, ‘I say jump,
you jump, no questions asked.’

I grip my upper arms and glare at him.

‘Don’t look at me like that. Your life is at stake.
Number three: you tell me the truth – always. That’s it, three simple rules.
Follow them and we’ll get along just fine, break one, and you’ll be dead before
you can say ‘sorry’. Are we clear?’

I stare at him, shocked. The little boy I’d glimpsed earlier
has nothing in common with this cold, hard dictator. Where has he gone and what
has brought on this sudden change?

‘Are we clear?’ Kael repeats, slightly louder.

‘Crystal,’ I reply, swivel and stalk back into the
house.

I spent an hour this afternoon trying to lookup
Maor
on the internet, but all I could
find was a reference to a Jewish agricultural Moshev, established in 1953. There
is a lot of stuff about the
Sidhe
and
fair-folk
, but I have no way of
knowing which parts are true and which are ‘embellished’. I got a few results
when I searched ‘five-fold’, on the other hand, but it all seemed so vague and
new age, that I gave up my search in favor of writing, and for the past half hour,
I’ve been staring at the word ‘Smothered’ at the top of a blank page in
Five
. I’ve worked myself up so much,
thinking about Kael’s
rules
that I can’t
even think of five measly sentences.

With a deep sigh, I flounce off the bed and throw the
windows open wide. I need to get out of here. I need to stop thinking about
Kael’s
rules
. I need to breathe. I
need to dance, but I can’t do any of those things with Kael breathing down my
neck.
 

On a sudden impulse, I grab my phone off the bed and head
downstairs. I avoid the front rooms, and head toward the back, but Nan is
there, staring out of the kitchen window. I hesitate, and then head across the
kitchen toward the door.

‘Where are you going, Shaylee?’ Nan turns and asks when
I’m only halfway to the door.

‘Just for a walk,’ I say.

‘Did you tell Kael?’

I groan and roll my eyes.

‘I’m pretty sure a walk in the garden doesn’t need a
bodyguard, Nan.’

She gives me a disapproving look, and pats the stool
beside her.

‘Come sit,’ she says, ‘I think you and I need to have
another chat.’

I sigh and drag myself to the stool, bracing for a
lecture.

‘I know you’re struggling to come to terms with all of
this, Shaylee but you need to understand the severity of your situation.’

‘It can’t be that serious, Nan,’ I say with a skeptical
look. ‘I mean, nothing happened to you, right?’

She frowns and dips her head to stare at her hands for a
second. She reaches out and takes my hand in hers.

‘I didn’t want to scare you, Bluebell, but I don’t think
I have a choice. You need to believe, otherwise…’

She lets her voice trail off and I can see the fear and
concern in her emerald eyes.
 

‘When I was seventeen,’ she begins, ‘Sandra and I went
out dancing one night. Don’t look so surprised, dear, I was young once too.’ She
smiles at me and I grin sheepishly. ‘Jake wasn’t with us, he had a party with
some friends and we all thought the hype about my safety was just talk. My
parents had warned us about the danger but none of us had ever encountered a Were
or a vampire, so, like you, we were skeptical and it made us careless.

‘I can’t say it was worth disobeying my parents that
night. Sandra and I spent half the night trying to rid ourselves of young men
who were attracted to my aura like bees to honey. Eventually, we gave up. As we
were walking to the car…’ Nan’s voice quivers and she swallows. ‘We were
attacked. I can still remember his pale white hair and dark eyes. I remember
his teeth too, the way they gleamed in the streetlight when he came at me. Neither
of us had any talents yet; he was strong and fast, and we were defenseless. I
should have died that night but my best friend saved me.’

‘Sandra…’ I whisper.

‘Yes, Sandra,’ Nan says. ‘With no powers and the
strength of a mere human, she fought back against the vampire.’

‘How did you escape?’

‘Luckily Sandra had heard some of the old folktales about
vampires from her parents. She knew enough to turn a nearby fire-hydrant on
him.’

‘So water kills vampires?’

‘No dear, only fire can kill vampires but they are
afraid of water, it burns them, like acid. It sufficed as a distraction to
enable our escape.’

Nan stands, turns her back to me and lifts her silver
hair off the back of her neck. There, just below the hairline, is a jagged
silver scar.

‘A little reminder of our narrow escape,’ she explains.
‘Of course, this is nothing in comparison to Sandra’s scars. She almost died
that night, but she saved me. Jake never forgave himself for not being there.’ Nan
squeezes my hand in hers and implores: ‘The threat is very real, Shaylee. I
need you to understand that. Kael is your only real protection and you need to
trust him.’

‘What can he possibly do?’ I ask. ‘He’s just a boy.’

‘He’s much more than that,’ Nan disagrees. ‘He’s your only
hope when they come, and they
will
come,
Shaylee.’

She drops my hand and walks back to the window, her back
toward me. Her shoulders are rigid as she stares at the forest beyond.

‘Sooner or later, they
will
come and we had better be prepared.’