Blakeshire (Insight #9)(49)

The clock inside was like no other. There were no numbers, but something that looked like three leaf clovers. Beneath this point, you could see layers and layers of wheels that no longer spun in place.

I closed the top and with trembling hands turned the locket so I could see the back. As I turned it, flashes came to my mind. I remembered losing it, searching everywhere with nothing less than panic, then Drake returning it to me. He had added an inscription, and now on the back the same words were there: first, last, forever.

I couldn’t believe it was real, that this piece of jewelry existed, that my random dreams had reflected truth, one that was more than needed at this pivotal point in my life. And it didn’t escape my attention that those were the same words I drew on his arm the other night.

“This is mine.” My eyes rose to meet his. I trusted few, and I could not help thinking this was planted here. That somehow, someone had seen this in my thoughts and told him about it, that he’d staged this. As my mind questioned him, I saw flashes of his perception. Though he had lingered near the waterfall below, climbed that hill a hundred times over, he had never once passed the edge, stepped into the meadow with the trees. In his mind, I could sense his emotions. He never dared to move forward simply because grief had seized him.

I also saw his perception of my dream, of me scorning him for touching this locket, for taking it. That argument stopped when I saw what he’d added to it, his words of devotion. In that dream of his, he asked me why I was so worried, who had given me the locket. It was clear by the look in his eyes that he was jealous. I sat him down and told him that it was given to me by my mother before I left home, that it was more than a watch; it was a guide, a map to a better tomorrow. The dream stopped there.

This locket that was my clear guide whenever the reality of that dream had taken place was now a mystery, an added layer to all that I was trying to unravel in my life.

Drake’s eyes filled with devotion. “You passed a test by saying that you remembered this place, by walking right to this tree…have I passed the test I see in your eyes?” he asked gently as he moved closer and took the locket from my trembling hand.

Carefully, he let the long chain fall and then eased it over my head. The weight of the locket fell to just below my ribs. As it rested there, I felt a wave of validation wash over me. I was the first. We had a destiny that was altered by evil, one that Drake didn’t deserve to be blamed for, simply because if I did blame him, or held on to rage for his actions over the last few months, they would win.

“You have never failed a test,” I admitted quietly.

He pulled my hand to his chest so I could feel his heart pounding. “You bring fire.”

“So do you,” I said as my eyes dared to meet his. The warm, burning sensation he brought to my soul, blossomed.

I thought for sure that he would kiss me, that I would lose myself right here and right now in his arms.

“Wait right here,” he said as he squeezed my hand then turned to leave.

I slid the box in my jacket as I watched him make his way to where the hill led downward.

I couldn’t handle the jacket anymore; it was too warm up here. I took it off, laced it through the thick trunk, and stepped out to stare up at the long braches that were swaying with the gentle wind. Some of the petals broke free and swam through the air before finding one of the streams and fluttering down to the fall.

This place had been my sanctuary at one time, but never my home. I was sure of it. I clasped the locket as I tried to call more lost dreams and memories back to me. Nothing. That was irritating.

Before long, Drake was back with a large basket in his hand. Once again, he looked like anyone or anything but the prince of a damned dimension.

“What do you have there?” I asked as he came closer and I saw a deep purple scarf tying the handles together.

“Lunch,” he said as he stepped into the base of the tree.

I wasn’t just going to stand there and watch him set it all up. I followed him in and reached to pull the purple cloth loose. “This color is following us today.”

“It’s like a crest here. Each family has a color. They gave me this one long ago.”

“You have a lot of friends here,” I murmured, thinking of that child earlier and the artist that had given me the image that was still in my coat.

“Acquaintances,” he supplied as he pulled out a large blanket that padded the soft ground.

“Why is it so warm up here?” I asked him as I saw him pull off his long coat and lay it along the blanket to give it even more of a pillow effect.

“Those springs are hot. The steam heats the air.”

“Feels like summer in the middle of winter.”

He grinned at me. “Yeah, it does.” I felt that sensation I was calling love, swell in his emotions, just as the scent of roses took over the air. I was learning to read him; most of his simple phrases carried more than one meaning, which meant that he was a constant mystery, someone that you could never fully sum up in a few words. I think that is what I adored most about him.

I heard a rustle of branches and jumped in defense. It took a second or two for me to notice that it was just the wind; all the white petals that had broken loose made it seem like it was snowing around us.

I felt his hand on my waist and glanced up to see a serious gaze. “We are in our own world right now. No one would ever come up here.”