2. Two Maeve

CHAPTER TWO

TWO: MAEVE

A s I watched the not-ghost's lifeless body, Rowan crept forward and picked up the corner of her sleeve between his fingers. "Don't touch her!" I cried, terrified she might place some spell on him.

Rowan leaned close to her face, his dreadlocks spilling over the ground. ‘She's breathing, so that's good. Do ghosts breathe?"

"Um, I'm not sure." Corbin brushed the curtain of hair off her cheek. I braced myself for something horrible to happen to him, but nothing did. "Aline, are you okay?"

"Is she…" I choked out.

Is she dead? I wanted to ask. But the words were ridiculous because we were talking about my mother, who was already dead. My eyes drew to the cuts on her face, drawn in lines down her forehead and cheeks like…

…like claw marks.

"Aline?" Corbin rolled her over onto her back, cradling her face in his lap. Her body flopped like a ragdoll. He held up her wrist. "I can feel a pulse, but it's faint."

How the hell can she have a pulse? She's dead.

Rowan touched her face, murmuring under his breath. "She's in some kind of catatonic state," he said. "I think it's a side effect of the spell's reversal."

"What do we do?"

"We take her back to Briarwood," Corbin said.

I shook my head. "Not happening. We don't know what she is or why she's here. It's not safe."

"It's the safest thing we can do. You want to know if she's a fae? Well, trying to take her through the wards is as good a test as any. We can't just leave her in this field for the local farmers to discover. It wasn't that long ago that she was the mistress of Briarwood. People will recognise her. They'll ask questions, like why she hasn't aged in twenty-one years."

I glanced down at the serene face of the woman who looked just like my mother. "She needs a hospital."

Rowan bent down and touched her cheek. "This isn't something a hospital can fix. I think I can help her, but I need my herbs."

I glanced between the two of them – Rowan's wide, frightened eyes, and Corbin's steady, intelligent gaze. I marvelled at how they'd managed to steamroll right through my protests. The two of them together are trouble. "You definitely think this is the right thing to do?"

"I think it's the only thing." Corbin squeezed her wrist. "We'd better hurry. Her pulse is getting fainter."

I nodded and stepped back. Arthur rushed forward and reached under her body, draping her arm over his shoulders. My heart lurched as her head flopped against his chest. Her skin was so pale, it looked translucent, the veins standing out like dark webs. Corbin moved in to help, but Arthur shrugged him away. "I've got her. She's as light as a feather. Pity that artist lover of hers didn't think to paint her a nice sandwich."

The fire sizzled as Flynn doused it in water. Corbin picked up the grimoire and slammed it shut, and Rowan and Blake collected the rest of the equipment. We traipsed across the field and stepped over the stone wall that marked the boundary of Briarwood Castle, moving back into the protection of our wards. The figure of my mother flopped lifelessly in Arthur's arms.

Corbin and Blake flanked me as we ascended the slope and cut through the orchard, wrapping their arms around my waist. With every step, the jewels of the High Priestess of Briarwood weighed heavier against my skin. Lights glowed through the Great Hall windows, and I could see the TV blaring on the wall and Connor bouncing in his swing. Good, Kelly and Jane are occupied .

We rushed through the wooden gate leading to the high-walled kitchen garden. Flynn held the kitchen door open for Arthur. Rowan rushed around, grabbing bottles and jars from the shelves. "Lay her down on the island," he said.

Arthur laid the ghost/spectre/wraith/zombie/figment of our imagination out across the table, knocking the pepper shaker on the floor. Under the LED lights, her skin glowed with ethereal translucency. Her lips moved slightly, and I caught the faintest whisper. I leaned in close without touching her, trying to catch what she was saying, but it was too quiet.

Rowan dumped herbs and oils into his mortar and crushed them into a paste. "Open her mouth," he said, his voice taking on the quiet authority I only ever heard when he was treating someone who'd been hurt. Corbin tipped her head back, holding her jaw open. Rowan dumped a spoonful of paste on her tongue.

"We need water," he said.

Flynn rushed to the sink and returned with a glass of water. Rowan dribbled some into her mouth so the paste would slide down her throat.

"Incline her head, so she doesn't choke," he said. After another dribble of water, she'd swallowed all the paste.

"What happens now?" Arthur glanced at me and then back at the sleeping figure. My stomach flipped and churned like mad. I didn't know whether I was excited or hopeful or terrified or all of the above.

"We wait," Rowan said. "We've no idea what she's been through. Her body will take a while to deal with the trauma. We should take her somewhere more comfortable, get her blankets and?—"

"Maeve?"

I whirled around at the sound of the voice. Kelly stood in the doorway, dressed in jeans and Arthur's Blood Lust sweatshirt, her hands disappearing inside the enormous sleeves. She folded her arms across her chest and peered around me at the kitchen island. "Why is Rowan forcing herbs into a strange woman in a white dress? What happened to her face? What's really going on?"