How (Not) to Fall in Love(87)

I ignored the Keep Out signs and drove through the open gate under the Paxton Ranch sign. I parked near a post sticking up out of the ground, next to an ancient VW van. A wooden sign swung from the post. “Do not disturb!” The words had been burned into the wood. “Private Property! Stay out!”

Someone had taped a cardboard sign under the warnings that said, “Druids welcome. Vandalizers be warned. This place protected by magick.”

I shivered. “Ridiculous.” I snorted. “Druid magic, my butt.” But before I got out of the truck, I touched the ninja shakers for luck, just in case.

Toby and I struggled against the wind and I shivered in the quickly dropping temperature. I watched the sun slip below a ridge of red sandstone. The T-shaped granite sentries formed a ring at least thirty yards in diameter. It was awe-inspiring. I didn’t care that it was a replica.

I shivered and pulled my parka tightly around me. I’d come this far, I might as well go all the way. I walked between two of the T-stones, emerging into the middle of the circle. Inside the circle were two enormous flat rectangular stones, each about five feet high. Someone had placed groupings of candles on the flat stones. I craned my neck to look up at the massive creation, brushing hair out of my eyes. If I believed in magic or powers unseen, this would be the time and place to make my request.

“Help me find my dad,” I whispered to the looming towers.

No wonder people were in such awe of the original Stonehenge. Today we had the technology and machinery to create this. But how had the original builders done it thousands of years ago?

Voices sounded from the other side of the stone circle. The hippies. Toby reached them before I did.

“Hey man, check out this dog.”

“Where’d you come from, buddy?”

“Let’s give him some food.”

“We ate it all, dude. That weed packed some serious munchies.”

Great. At least they sounded harmless.

Several people huddled around a small campfire. The smell of burning wood reminded me of nights at the cabin, nights Dad and I had camped on our property instead of sleeping inside.

I approached them tentatively. Of course they were stoned; they had to be to even consider camping in this weather. They’d shoveled away snow and set up their tents on tarps, but I still couldn’t see how they’d stay warm.

A skinny guy with a mop of curly dark hair and a spotty beard laughed as he wrestled with Toby. A girl with long red braids and an earflap hat grinned up at me. “Hey. Welcome to Druid Central.” She offered me a hand-rolled cigarette. “Wanna hit?”

I shook my head. “No thanks.”

“Wassup?” asked another guy lying in a sleeping bag. His head was shaved and he had enormous earlobe gauges. Dinner plates would practically fit in those holes. “You here for the ritual? It should be awesome. Claire’s gonna start soon.”

“Yeah,” Claire said. She handed the joint to Mophead. “It’s a powerful time, you know. The solstice. A time to release old stuff.”

I had plenty of old crap to release. Maybe I should stay for the ritual.

“Is this your dog?” Earlobes asked from his prone position. “He’s cool.”

“Yeah. His name’s Toby.”

“Sit down,” said Claire, patting the ground next to her.

I sat on the cold ground. Now what?

“So,” I said, “I’m looking for someone. A guy who likes Stonehenges. I’m wondering if you’ve seen him.”

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and brought up Dad’s glamour shot.

Claire bent over to look into the phone. She laughed. “He looks like a movie star.”

Small screen, I wanted to say. Strictly small screen.

“Have you seen him?”

“No,” Claire said. “I’d remember somebody like that.”

Mophead took the phone and shook his head. “Nope.”

Earlobes held my phone above his head while he lay on the ground. “Nah. I ain’t seen him. But we should ask Preacher. He might’ve.”

He rolled over and yelled toward the tents. “Preacher! Come out here.”

I saw the shadow of a figure moving inside the smaller tent. A hand reached up to unzip the tent flap. A man emerged, tall and scruffy. He walked toward the fire, his body buried under a thick black parka, his face hidden under a hoodie. He looked older than the others.

Toby stopped wrestling with Mophead. He froze, pointing his front leg, ears cocked and nose sniffing the air. Oh crap. Maybe they weren’t as harmless as they seemed.

“Preacher, this girl’s looking for someone,” said Claire.

The man stopped next to the fire. My heart thudded in my ears. I hoped he wasn’t armed. I couldn’t handle anyone else pointing a gun at me. Maybe I should’ve listened to Daisy.

He pushed the hoodie off his face and looked directly into my eyes. His beard was full, and limp, dirty hair grazed his shoulders.

Even in the dim light of the campfire, he looked a lot like his brother.





Chapter Thirty-Four


Lights from the dancing flames threw shadows on us, and onto the stones looming behind us. I made the first move. I ran to Dad and threw my arms around him, but he didn’t hug me back. Instead he pulled away, his eyes wide with panic.