Page 15 of A Sanctuary from Shadow
I shrugged.
He chuckled, jotting.
“My friend and I were in the dressing room when the power went out. Some weird little ten-year-old took advantage, came out of nowhere, and tried to steal my MulBerry.”
Briar arched a disbelieving brow.
“He did, though, and I wrestled him for it.”
“In the dark?”
“The brat kicked me like a donkey, said some weird-ass shit, and ran away.” I rubbed the fading wound on my chest. “At least, I thought he did. When the lights came back on, the phone was in my purse. Guess he thought better of stealing it.”
“And now your contacts are scrambled,” Briar said, more commenting than questioning. “What did this kid look like?”
“Freaky. I think he was wearing a Halloween costume—a monkey mask with a fur suit under his clothes.”
“In April?”
“I’m sure he had his reasons.”
“Hmph.” Briar’s tongue rolled inside his mouth.
“It was just a stupid practical joke.”
Briar grimaced. “I’m sure that’s exactly what it was.”
He handed me back my pen and notepad, his phone number inscribing its top page. “Well, I’ll call—” His farewell died on his lips, his eyes fixed on something behind me.
I glanced back at my screen saver slideshow, now the photo Grace had snapped of me at Angel Oak. Lovely, but with one glaring flaw—a rainbow of light leaks loomed around my smiling face, making it look like the trunk’s largest hollow had cracked open, sunlight slivering through from its other side.
“Where was that taken?” Briar demanded.
“At a park in South Carolina.” Why had his whole body stiffened? “I traveled south over spring break for History Club. That tree is rumored to be 500 years old.”
“It’s much older than that, Amy,” he returned, harkening Aunt Aylie during a lecture. “How did you miss all the signs warning you not to touch the tree?”
He was chastening me? For such a benign transgression? Fraternity hazing usually consisted of much harsher mischief. “I barely put any weight on the branch. I just wanted to touch something that old.”
Briar groaned, massaging his forehead.
Why the hell was he so stressed? “You've been there before?”
“Has any other bizarre phenomena happened since then?”
“No, just the phone thief.”
His gaze hardened. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” I withdrew. “What’s the big freaking deal?”
“Don’t you pay attention to any of your uncle’s sermons, Amy?”
I scoffed. “Spare me the righteous indignation, Briar. I’ve watched you sleep through plenty—”
“I’m not judging your piety. There are just things we need to remember about trees that old. They’re energy hubs. Getting too close to one is like inviting trouble into your life. Bad luck.”
Why was he ruining such a perfect date with bullshit Danann superstition? I’d thought that, like me, the frat-brother party boy saw our Pagan religion as more a mythology—as moral allegories not for literal interpretation. Sure, he believed in Danu, the power of communing, and maintained a healthy interest in our religion. But did he believe all our tenets and customs must be followed to the letter? Wouldn’t have thought so.
