Indigo Moon (13 page)

“You never told me there was a plane.”

“I didn’t think to mention it,” Ren answered. “Are you always this dogged?”

“Yes, I am. Especially when it’s clear I could have gone to a hospital at any time.”

“You had a fever, that was all. I took care of your stitches. You didn’t need to go to a hospital. You were safe here.”

“Ren, I whacked my head. I lost my memory. Jesus, doesn’t that worry you?”

“It doesn’t matter where you are, here or in a hospital ward, your memories will come back. It’s best you’re with me when they do.”

“And why’s that?”

Ren’s fingers tightened on her arm. “Because I’m the one with all your answers.”

“Oh, for God’s sake. Then tell me.”

“I can’t. You don’t know the questions yet.”

*

The channel was a disappointing concrete trough, about thirty feet long and covered with a metal mesh to keep the birds out. Fresh river water constantly flushed through a series of end valves while the fry swam against the man-made current becoming bigger and stronger. Isabelle pressed against the wall and squinted at the brown fry squirming in their concrete prison. Her mind was on other things. She pushed away her annoyance at Ren and her riddles. It would get her nowhere. If she wanted answers she had to deduce them for herself. But it was interesting that a plane was arriving in the next couple of days. When it left she hoped to be on it.

A flash of blue caught her eye as a belted kingfisher dive-bombed into the river. An instant later it splashed free with a wriggling brown blob in its beak.

“Someone’s caught his dinner,” Ren murmured. “Maybe it’s time we did the same.”

“There goes a good reason all fish aren’t reared in channels like this. Some have to be fodder for other species to survive.” Isabelle pulled away from the channel wall. “I suppose that’s easy for me to say, being on top of the food chain.”

“Yes, I suppose you are now.” Ren gave a wolfish grin and started back to the truck. “Come on. Let’s go back.”

Twilight cast a spectacular gloom over everything as they walked back to the truck. Unnerving, organic shadows crept out of the undergrowth. The headlights on Ren’s truck were the only pinpoints of safety in the entire valley, and Isabelle was grateful for them as she clambered into the front cab. Singing Valley was a spooky place at night. She could see why there were ghost stories about it.

“Aren’t the boys coming with us?” Isabelle asked.

“Later. They have other things to do.”

“But it’s getting dark,” she said, looking around uneasily.

“Nighttime’s the best time.” Ren gunned the engine and began the steep drive back up the valley side.

“Eat your greens.”

“I don’t wanna,” Mouse whined. “I hate greens. Why do I have to eat them? We never had greens before.”

“Eat them,” Ren roared across the table.

“Ren,” Isabelle said. “Stop shouting at the child.”

A quick glance around the dinner table told her everyone was uncomfortable. Jenna sat ramrod stiff, and Joey shifted uneasily in his chair. Mouse hung her head and sulked at her plate. Isabelle realized the discomfort was not at Ren’s barked reprimand but rather her challenge to it. Her gaze swung full circle back to Ren, who stared at her in startled surprise.

“Well, you shouldn’t,” she said sternly. “She’s just a child.”

“She’ll eat whatever Jenna gives her,” Ren said in a quieter tone, but still a little disgruntled. An uneasy silence followed that Isabelle felt obliged to fill.

“Thank you for a lovely meal, Jenna.” It had been a splendid meal and the third steak dinner Isabelle had eaten that day, much to her stomach’s delight and her own surprise. She had wondered at the greens Jenna had managed to serve with the rich venison. All, except Mouse, had stoically munched their way through a bitter winter herb salad. Jenna must have gone foraging for her ingredients, and Isabelle more than appreciated the gesture. She warmed to Jenna’s generous nature and was eager to show it.

Mouse pushed the last of her food around her plate until Ren lost patience with her again.

“You. Bed. Now.” She pointed at the door. Mouse flung down her fork, and with a loud, tearful sniff, stomped out of the room.

“She is one little alpha brat.” Ren sighed as soon as the door slammed shut.

“Tell me.” Jenna began to gather up the empty plates. “I’m the one teaching her math.”

Joey rose from the table.

“Where are you going?” Ren asked. Joey flushed a violent red.

“It’s my turn to babysit tonight,” he mumbled. “I swapped so Jenna could hang with Noah.”

“Who said you could swap the schedule?” Ren frowned. Now Jenna turned beet red.

“It’s just until Joey’s more mobile,” she stammered. “I’ll pay back the babysitting hours later, when he’s better and wants to run—” Her sentence jerked to a stop at Ren’s frown. Jenna threw a guilty glance toward Isabelle.

Isabelle felt sorry for the girl. She’d already suspected Jenna and Noah were an item. Her impatience with Ren grew. Why shouldn’t the girl go meet her beau, though Lord knew what there was for them to do around here. Ren must have read her thoughts, for she grudgingly complied.

“Okay, you can swap tonight. But no more schedule switches without clearing it with me first. I need to know who’s where, doing what.”

Joey and Jenna exhaled in relief. Joey left to follow Mouse, and Jenna continued to clear the table.

“Let me help.” Isabelle collected the dirty dishes. “Please let me wash up.” She was trying desperately to smooth over Jenna’s embarrassment.

“I’ll get coffee.” Ren stood. “With a shot of brandy. Jenna, you get going, we’ll finish up.” With a grateful smile Jenna untied her apron and headed for the door.

“What on earth is there for them to do around here?” Isabelle asked as she piled the sink full of dishes and ran the water.

“Plenty. Here, let me help.” Ren took up a dish towel and began to dry as Isabelle washed.

Later they sat on the cookhouse porch and sipped brandy-laced coffee.

“The valley is magical at night.” Ren sounded content.

A plaintive howl echoed from the forest below, and Isabelle shivered under her thick jacket. “The valley sounds dangerous. It’s the mountains that are magical.” She gazed at the circle of snowy peaks; they glowed against the velvet night sky.

Another howl rent the night air.

“God, listen to that. Will they be all right out there?” Isabelle asked nervously.

“That wolf is miles away. The acoustics of the valley make it sound closer.” A chorus of howls answered the first cry, and for a moment the whole valley resonated with the eerie melody. “Sounds like a party.”

“I can see why it’s called the Singing Valley.” Isabelle settled back in her seat and watched the tip of the waxing moon balance delicately on a distant mountain ridge. The sky was cloudless and the night air crisp and sharp. A million stars swathed the heavens above them in expansive swirls of design.

“It’s beautiful here.” Isabelle’s breath escaped in little misty puffs. “I wish I knew the constellations.”

“See that W shape?” Ren pointed overhead. “That’s Cassiopeia. And right up there, Ursa Major, or the Big Dipper.” She continued to point while Isabelle struggled to see what she was actually pointing at.

“Wait. What W shape?”

A cry from the bunkhouse brought Ren to her feet before Mouse’s scream had even registered with Isabelle. By the time Isabelle stood, Ren was already halfway across the yard, running for the other building. Isabelle chased after her. She arrived at the bunkhouse in time to see Ren bend over a tearful Mouse. She was sitting in her bunk crying and had obviously woken from a nightmare. Isabelle was full of sympathy. She’d suffered enough nightmares to last a lifetime.

“What is it?” Joey hobbled in bare-chested from the washroom. Toothpaste rimmed his mouth.

“Just a bad dream.” Ren lay Mouse back down and tucked the blankets up under her chin. “It’s okay, Mouse.”

“It’s under the bed.” Mouse kicked the blankets off again and sat up.

“What is?” Ren asked.

“The vampire.” Mouse was very determined to exit a bed that had a vampire under it. “I was sleeping and it touched my arm and I screamed and it vanished.”

“Vampire?” Ren glared over at Joey. He went chalk white. “Have you been showing her those stupid comics again?”

“No, Ren. Honest.” He backed up a little.

“Ren. No more shouting, please.” Isabelle went over and gathered Mouse in her arms. She perched on the edge of the bed and cuddled her on her lap. Mouse burrowed into her. Although her tears had stopped, she was still upset.

“There’s nothing under the bed, honey,” Isabelle said.

“There is. I saw it.”

“You saw it? Under the bed? Goodness.” Isabelle sounded suitably surprised.

“Uh-huh.”

“Nonsense. There’s no such thing as vampires. I told you before.” Ren said.

“Ren.” Isabelle looked over Mouse’s head. “Check under the bed, please.”

“What?”

“Check under the bed. Mouse says she saw a vampire, and I want you to check.”

“You want me to look under the bed?” Ren was astounded.

“Yes, please,” Isabelle said calmly. “If a vampire is stupid enough to come into this bunkhouse and hide under Mouse’s bed, I want you to find it and give it a pounding it never forgets. Better still, it tells all its friends that Singing Valley is off-limits to vampires unless they want a pounding, too.”

With a puff of exasperation, Ren bent on one knee and dipped her head to look under the bed.

“There’s nothing there.”

She stood and looked at Mouse curled up on Isabelle’s lap. Her face held a strange expression that Isabelle found impossible to read.

“See, honey. There’s no monsters under there,” Isabelle murmured into Mouse’s sweaty hair. “Vampires are afraid of Ren. They know she’d chase them away.”

“Yes, she would. She’d bite them bad.” Mouse mulled over this new logic. It seemed to calm her. She still clung to Isabelle’s neck. Isabelle rubbed her thin little back with big, soothing circles. She liked comforting Mouse. Mouse needed hugs.

“Of course she would. And then there’s Joey, and Jenna, and Noah, and Patrick, too. Think about it. A vampire would never come here. They’d bash him good. You’re safe here, Mouse. This is the safest place in the whole world.”

“There are no such thing as vampires,” Ren stated again, frustration in her voice.

“And even if there were, you’ve got bigger teeth.” Mouse sounded cheerful. “You’d bite them to pieces.”

“But there are no such things,” Ren grated out.

“I swear I never showed her no comics, Ren,” Joey said, fretfully. “It’s just a silly dream you’re having, Mouse.”

“Of course there are no such things as monsters, but it doesn’t stop us from having bad dreams about them,” Isabelle said. She remembered the vague, black blurs with slick yellow eyes of her own nightmares. “Let’s get you all tucked up.” She deposited Mouse back in bed and pulled the blankets over her.

“Can I go out and play tonight?” Mouse pleaded, her eyes big brown pools over the rim of the blanket. Isabelle was stunned. One moment the little girl was terrified of monsters under her bed, the next she wanted to go play in the forest at nighttime?

“No, you cannot.” Ren and Isabelle answered simultaneously, word for word. They glanced at each other in surprise.

“But I’m scared. I want to go running,” Mouse began to whine. “Joey can come with me.”

“Joey will be in the bed right next to yours.” Ren pointed at the bed and Joey shuffled into it double quick.

“Now get to sleep, the both of you,” Ren ordered. “Mouse, it’s way too late for you to be up, and Joey, take your meds and get an early night. I’ll need you to be a hundred percent soon.”

“Sure thing, Ren.” He radiated a new confidence under Ren’s attention.

“Good man.” Ren nodded.

Mouse’s complaints trailed away and were replaced with yawns as Isabelle tucked her in and settled her for the night.

“Sweet dreams, guys,” she called softly before closing the bunkhouse door behind them.

“Does Mouse have many nightmares?” she asked once they were outside.

“She sneaks peeks at the boys’ horror comics and it frightens the bejesus out of her,” Ren muttered. “I’ve told them not to leave that stuff lying around, but no one listens.”

“Oh, somehow I think they do.”

Rather than go back to the cookhouse, Ren took the path to her cabin. Isabelle fell into step beside her.

“No, they don’t, unless I get mad. Then everybody runs round like a hangdog for weeks.”

“It’s what kids do,” Isabelle said.

“Is it?”

“Yes. They push to see how far they can go. Test the boundaries.” It seemed obvious to Isabelle that the kids adored Ren.

“Why do you collect them, Ren?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”