CHAPTER 1
Enough was enough. Catriona picked up the baby, yanked open the door to her new husband’s workshop, marched in, and deposited the little girl at her father’s feet. “There, she’s all yours!” she said. “I’m going out!” She snatched Guy’s cloak from the hook behind the door and stomped out into the little clearing that surrounded the cottage.
One day—they had been married just one day. And known each other for five. Talk about shotgun wedding. And already Cat was so frustrated with the man she could scream. But she didn’t want to do that inside for fear of scaring her new little stepdaughter. Little Bibby did not deserve to be caught in yet another marital fracas; she had had enough of that with her birth mother.
Cat turned to her left and marched along the path that led past the clay pit. She just needed to be alone, to let off some steam. By herself, finally! Five days of never having a moment to herself (other than perhaps in the draughty little outhouse at the back of the cottage), five days of being in a totally new world with new rules where everything was different, five days of living about as primitively as on a campground back in America, where Cat came from.
And that had been the beginning of the big argument. Guy’s aunt, the formidable and no-nonsense Ouska, had amenities in her house. She had indoor plumbing of sorts (run on a hand-operated pump, but still, it was inside the house), and she had a hot water tank that delivered lovely warm water to the bathroom behind her kitchen—the indoor bathroom, Cat thought resentfully. Whereas Guy’s cottage—her own cottage now, Cat reminded herself—had nothing much more than four walls, an open fireplace, and a cold-water pump on the outside of his pottery workshop.
All she had asked was whether they could not have one of those hot water tanks in the cottage, too—that’s all she had asked for! And he had got a mulish look on his face and said, in a huff, that these things were costly, and difficult, and the cottage was the way it was and that was that. And then he had stomped off into his workshop to make some more of his infernal pottery, leaving her alone to look after the baby. His baby.
Leaving her alone. Cat sniffed. Just like last night. They had been married, yesterday, by the peculiar little private ceremony of this world—they had spoken the words of marriage to each other, and he had given her the silver necklace that served for a wedding ring in this place. Cat reached up to her neckline and fingered the filigree cat pendant at her throat. It meant they were married, didn’t it? Yesterday, they had been so happy... Come nightfall, they had tucked in the baby on her little pallet in the corner of the room. And then Guy—Cat sniffed again—Guy had taken a bed roll and gone to sleep on the floor in his workshop. Was that another peculiar custom of this world? Didn’t married people—well, share the bed? She could have sworn he was attracted to her, was interested in her in ‘that way’—but why didn’t he, then, do something about it? Or was she the only one who had sparks shooting up her arm whenever they accidentally brushed against each other?
She turned off the forest path into the small clearing where she had first arrived in this world. The Arbour, they called it. The blue bark of the Septimus Tree winked at her from between the screening branches on the right. She found a convenient large rock and sank down on it, burying her face in her hands. What had she got herself into? She had been so sure, yesterday, that it was the right thing to do to stay in this world, that it was the right place to be. Well, to be honest, she was still sure of it. She wanted this to work out. But why was Guy so—so—difficult? Perhaps it had been stupid to marry someone on such a short acquaintance. Her first truly impulsive major decision—and she had screwed it up. She knew so little of Guy, so little of his world. And her experience with relationships was, to put it mildly, somewhat limited. For all her twenty-eight years she had had only one or two serious boyfriends, and none of them had lasted long. But she had thought, yesterday, that Guy was different. And this world was different. Cat had the feeling that they didn’t start and end relationships as casually as they did in her old world, that marriage vows meant something here. Even if they were exchanged as quickly after meeting as theirs had been. What had she let herself in for?
Cat stared absentmindedly at the strange bushes across the clearing with their spiky leaves and the blood-red berries, which looked vaguely sinister. She had never seen anything like them before, back at home—no, this was her home now. She belonged in Ruph, in spite of it all. She wondered what those bushes were called, and if they had some kind of special properties like the Septimus Tree, which, she had been told, was a one-of-a-kind tree planted by one of Guy’s ancestors and was special even for this world. She certainly had experienced its powers herself; it had played an important role in bringing her here. As if she had been meant to come.
A branch cracked not far off. What was that? Steps? Surely it was. Someone was quietly, stealthily moving through the underbrush towards her. She tilted her head to listen.
“Sshshsh! Bubba be shush! Mumma wanna be awone!” came the penetrating stage whisper of a two-year-old.
Oh. Cat rolled her eyes. There were definite drawbacks to having a stepdaughter with unusual mental abilities—with the little girl’s psychic powers, hiding from her and her father was proving nearly impossible. Guy’s head came into view, cautiously peering around the trees that marked the entrance to the Arbour.
“Shshshsh!” hissed Bibby again, perched on her father’s arm, squishing her chubby little forefinger to her lips.
Cat shook her head.
“It’s okay,” she said resignedly. “You’re here, you might as well come the rest of the way.”
Guy put the little girl down on the ground.
“Mumma!” she squealed happily, and launched herself at Cat. “Mumma no be awone?”
Cat picked her up and hugged her close. You couldn’t be angry with her, she was just so sweet. Bibby’s red curls tickled Cat’s nose, and she puffed air out of her nostrils. The baby giggled.
“Dat tickoos!” she said.
Cat blew a raspberry on the little girl’s round cheek. Anything to avoid looking at Guy. What was he doing here, anyway?
Guy cleared his throat.
“Cat—Catriona?”
Cat looked up at him. His turquoise eyes were on her, uncertain.
“Well?”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry I was, uh, abrupt. It’s just...”
“Bubba sowwy,” explained Bibby, patting Cat’s cheek with her little hand.
Cat had to laugh.
“Yes, sweetie, he said so. Why don’t you go and find some pine cones to play with?” She put the baby down, then looked back up at Guy. “It’s just what?”
He heaved a deep sigh.
“It’s—well, Ashya. She was always asking for more, always. Whatever I had, whatever I did, it was never enough for what she wanted. And then she left. I was afraid that...”
“That I was leaving, too?” Well, that figured. Cat drew a deep breath. “Look, Guy. Get it through your thick head, once and for all, that I am not like your ex-wife. Okay?” She got up from her rock and stood in front of him, tilting her head back so she could look in his eyes. “If I wanted to leave,” she said, “I’d have left yesterday, using the bowl. But I didn’t. I gave it to Sepp, remember? I’m staying. Do you get it? I’m staying! But I don’t see why I should be uncomfortable here if I don’t have to be. I come from a place where we have electricity——that means we can have light, or heat for cooking, by flicking a switch or clicking a button. We have central heating; one touch on a dial, and the furnace starts blowing warm air. We have bathrooms where we just have to turn a tap, and hot water comes gushing out. I don’t mind giving that up if I have to——but I do mind if I don’t have to. It’s because I’m staying I want that water tank. I’m going to be here for good, and I don’t want to be miserable with it!”
Guy looked at her with an intense light in his eyes, drawing a deep breath and blowing it back out. He reached out his hand and cradled Cat’s cheek. A tingle
ran down her back.
“Catriona...”
Steps sounded through the woods.
“Guy? Catriona? Are you there? Bibby?”
Guy quickly pulled back his hand as Cat turned her head.
“Here, Aunt!” he called, his voice just a little shaky.
Ouska strode into view, her stocky figure encased in her usual outfit of long, tiered skirt and loose blouse, her grey-brown hair wound in a coronet of braids around her head.
“Ah, there you are,” she said in a satisfied tone. “I thought as much.”
Well, yes, she would. She had the same unusual gift as her great-niece, and as Cat was beginning to discover she had herself. Apparently it came from being an only daughter of an only daughter—an Unissima—and it meant she knew things without being told, particularly things about people she was close to. The Knowing, they called it. Cat had never had that ability back in her old world, but there seemed to be something about this place that brought out those latent gifts in people.
“Hello, Aunt.” She smiled at the older woman, genuinely glad to see her. Bibby ran over and clutched at Ouska’s skirt.
“Wook!” she said, holding up a pine cone.
“Lovely, dear,” said Ouska kindly. “Listen,” she turned to her nephew, “I think the little one could use a bit of time visiting with her cousins. Yldra’s young Randor has been getting into mischief purely from boredom; he needs someone to play with. I’ll take her with me now. Do you want to come play with Randor, Bibby, and sleep at Aunt’s house tonight?”
“Pay Wandor!” agreed Bibby.
“Oh! Right,” said Guy, who was used to his aunt’s sudden ways of doing things. “You know where her night shift is, in the chest in the cottage.”
“Yes, yes, I’ll find it,” said Ouska. “Come on, little one, we’ll go see Uncle.”
A slightly awkward silence fell between Cat and Guy after the sound of Bibby’s and Ouska’s departing steps had faded away. They were alone for the first time in—since they were married. Cat crouched down on the soft forest floor, which was covered in leaf mould, to pick up the pine cone Bibby had left behind.
“Catriona—” Guy began, his voice a little hoarse. He was looking at the ground in front of him. “Catriona, do you mean it?”
“What? Do I mean what I said about staying? Yes, silly, of course I do. I’m here for good. But...”
“Cat—Cat, you know—you could have anything you want, if I can give it to you, anything to make you comfortable. Really, I...”
“Oh!” said Cat, her eyes sparkling, “now you tell me! So I can have the water heater?”
“Yes,” he said quietly.
“Great!” Cat said. “And what about an indoor bathroom?”
“Well, yes, if you want...”
“Oh goody! And how about a bigger cottage? Could we make the house bigger? Lots bigger? You know, build another floor on top, or double the floor space? And have a dining room with a crystal chandelier?”
He looked up with a slight frown drawing down his eyebrows.
“I’m not sure...”
“And, oh,” continued Cat, apparently not listening to him, “I always wanted a purple silk dress with a really long train! And jewellery, gold jewellery, with diamonds and rubies and...”
Suddenly Cat found herself flat on her back, her wrists pinned to the forest floor. Guy’s turquoise eyes were shooting sparks mere inches above her own.
“You little tease!” he growled. “You need to be taught a lesson!” He kissed her long and hard on the mouth.
“Oh,” Cat squeaked, when she could catch her breath, “oh, teacher, sir, I don’t think I understood that lesson! Could you please repeat it, sir?”
Sir obliged.
The dreams were vague at first, just sounds—like the old-fashioned radio plays Catriona used to listen to when she was a kid.
“Nicky?”
“Oh, it’s you! You got back then, did you?”
“Yes, I did. Can I come in?”
“I don’t know. I’m in the middle of something—actually, I’m leaving right now, something’s come up. And you just disappeared on me, back there at Ryan’s place the other day. What’s with that bowl?”
“The bowl? Oh, it’s—I’ll tell you later. But Nicky, I found Cat! She’s back at my home, back in...”
“Oh, whatever. You mean that ‘other world’ you keep talking about? Sepp, I’m not buying that. My best friend has vanished, and you come along with this rigmarole...”
“Nicky! Nicky, don’t cry. Honestly, it’s true! I went back to Ruph, and Cat’s there, and she’s staying—she’s with my brother, and...”
“Oh, what, now you’re telling me Cat’s hooking up with some guy in your mysterious world? Give me a break, Sepp. Cat doesn’t do guys, she wouldn’t fall for someone just like that. She’s got a head on her shoulders. She thinks. She’s...”
The sound of a door clicking shut.
Cat’s eyes popped open.
She stared into the darkness around her. Sepp and Nicky. So he had got back to America, had he? And Nicky wasn’t having any of his sweet-talking—Cat was not surprised. Well, it did sound like she had let him into her apartment. Now whether Nicky would eventually believe him about Cat and Guy and Ruph—that was another matter... Cat wondered when this conversation had taken place. Somehow, she had no doubt that it had been real, that she had heard something that actually happened—but when? Or had it not even happened yet; was it still going to come?
Cat could just make out the faint outline of the window beside the bed—it must have been sometime in the small hours, as dawn had not even begun. Guy gave a deep snore, then woke up just enough to roll over, fling his arm over Cat, and pull her close to him. Cat gave a small, satisfied sigh and snuggled against his warm chest.
It was the next day they first saw the grey mice.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
A. M. Offenwanger lives in rural Western Canada with her husband, daughter, three sons, two cats, numerous dust bunnies, and a small stuffed bear named Steve. She likes walking barefoot through the mud because she enjoys the squishy feeling between her toes. On the Internet she can be found on Facebook and Twitter and on her blog at www.amovitam.ca.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Seventh Son would never have seen the light of day without the help of a number of wonderful people.
First of all my husband Peter and daughter Anna, who read it first, helped me iron out the lumpy bits, never got tired of discussing the characters and plot twists, and through it all have been unfailingly encouraging—
My beta readers and fellow writers Christopher Bunn, Louise Bates, and Desi Valentine; but most especially Lee Strauss, who has been nothing short of midwife to this book—
My editor Jennifer Ballinger and cover artist Steven Novak—
And all my friends who read the story in its first incarnation and were unanimously enthusiastic about it—
THANK YOU.
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