Chapter 7
Finn watched the men in uniforms circle the property. The lights they carried flitted from one place to the other, back and forth, while others searched the outskirts of the woods.
He had been too hungry to wait for her guests to leave and for her to retire. He stumbled upon the wolves once again and followed them through the valley, where they shared a deer they brought down, saving him the trouble of hunting.
And now the men were searching for him, possibly thinking he was stolen. It had happened a few times in the past.
What would she think when she awoke the next morning to see him in his normal place? Would she put all the things the two sorceresses said together with his absence and realize he was alive part of the time?
If she did, would she send him back to Scotland, to be sold to some other unsuspecting buyer?
What difference would it make if she did? He’d still be trapped inside a lump of stone, no matter who owned him.
But he’d rather stay here with her and her two beautiful friends. They, at least, sensed magic afoot. If he could prove to them he represented no danger to Genevieve or others, they might be persuaded to help him escape this damnable curse.
It was the closest he’d ever been to a chance of being human again. He had to show himself without frightening her too terribly, and plead for her help.
He would do anything for a chance to be normal again.
The men got into their vehicles and drove away. Genevieve stood on the porch and gazed out over the yard as though deep in thought, then turned and went into the house. Finn leaped from the high limb where he perched, opened his wings, and glided across the yard to within walking distance of the stone block he sat on sixteen hours out of every twenty-four.
Butterbean greeted him with a high-pitched mew. He picked up the cat and sat on the cold concrete block to pet him. The cat balanced on his arm and butted his head against his chest. Having the small animal’s trust and acceptance was a new experience. Most animals were terrified of him. But then he was hunting them for food. It had never occurred to him to win one’s affection, but he truly enjoyed the tabby’s attention.
A howl pierced the quiet, and Finn looked toward the west. The wolves were another surprise. They, too, had gone out of their way to befriend him, unlike the wolves and other animals near the castle grounds. If only they could speak. The hunger for a human conversation tormented him.
He moved to the breezeway door, even though it was surely locked. He was surprised to find it wasn’t, and opened it a crack to gently place the cat inside, then twisted the lock button and closed it.
He took two long strides from beneath the roof, opened his wings, and leapt into the sky. He circled the house, making certain no one lurked close by. Curious, he turned toward the lights of a car shining from beneath the canopy of trees along the main road. The car was the same one the man drove to Genevieve’s house this afternoon. How had he known the police were here?
Finn hovered high above and followed the vehicle’s progress toward town. The car turned into an outlying residential area and cut across the business district to another area of larger houses. The houses were more ornate with pillars and gables, their yards well-tended.
High above the car, Finn caught the air currents and glided through the sky hundreds of feet up. The car turned into a driveway, and the house seemed to swallow it as he drove into the garage. A few minutes later, lights came on in two of the windows upstairs. Finn spiraled down to look inside, landing on the chimney that rose from the bottom floor up the side of the house and thrust skyward. He stretched to the side and gripped the windowsill with his fingertips.
Inside the room, the man sat in front of a computer, his shoulders blocking Finn’s view of the screen. If he changed position, the sound of his wings flapping would alert the man to his presence, so he clung to the side of the house and waited. His fingertips grew numb and the muscles in his back and shoulders burned with strain.
Finally the man moved, and Finn caught a glimpse of what he was studying. There were a set of pictures on the screen. There was movement in one, but he was too far away to see what it was. There was no way he could identify what the man was doing.
He released the windowsill and allowed himself to fall, landing on his feet before rushing toward the back of the house. Spreading his wings, he launched himself and settled in a tall pine on the border between the yard and the one next door.
What was that man doing? Finn knew so little about computers. He read about them, but had no experience with them. What was on the screen? Not photographs. Something moved in one of them. His hands fisted in frustration. It was difficult to understand what he’d seen when he had no way of learning about it.
If only he could approach Genevieve, but she wasn’t ready to face the monster. He had sensed her nervousness and fear out on the patio…but what of the two witches who shared a meal with her? And how could he find them?
He would have to wait for them to return, and hope it happened during a time when he could approach them. He went over everything he overheard during their conversation with Genevieve.
One had spoken of the library. He could find it, and perhaps find a way to approach her another night.
He balanced on the thick branch and let himself fall. His wings caught him, feet above the ground, and he soared higher and flew back toward town.
He passed over residential areas and the business district, then came upon a cluster of large buildings sprawled across the valley. Well-lit signs across the lintels of each structure identified the department. In the center of the cluster was the Harlan J. Collins library. Dim lights shone from inside, and the parking lot was empty, save for two vehicles at the back.
He landed on the structure and clung to the large cupola perched atop its roof, looking in all directions to get his bearings. He’d return and see if he could follow the witch home and speak to her.
A man sauntered out into the parking lot. He stood within the circle of light at the back door and lit a cigarette. He inhaled, and then blew the cloud of pale gray smoke into the air.
Finn swung around the cupola so he could use it for cover when he took flight. Though people rarely looked up, there was no need to take the chance that this man might.
He spread his wings, and was lifted on an air current when loud crack sounded from below. Finn looked down to see a man standing on the sidewalk in front of the library, pointing an object at him. Once again a loud crack came from below, and blood and pain bloomed on Finn’s arm, and he clapped a hand over the injury and increased his speed.
The man was shooting at him. He heard the report from two more shots, but they whizzed past harmlessly. He dipped down behind the trees, out of sight. Blood trickled between his fingers, and he swore. The injury would heal once he turned to stone, but it hurt like the slice of a blade, and he needed to stop the bleeding. He turned back toward Genevieve’s house.
The sound of an alarm came from behind him. What did the man think he was? One of those bloody giant lizards from thousands of years ago?
Finn swooped down into a yard surrounded by a tall wooden fence. Large towels were draped over the railing of a wooden platform around a body of water. He tore two strips from the closest towel, wrapping one strip tightly around his arm, then tying the other around it to hold it in place.
A car raced by, its engine revving. He waited for the sound to recede before taking off toward home.
From now on he’d have to have to be more careful when flying over the town.