Paradise Lots 7 The Man of the Woods
Lurleen learns something
When Bridget drove her car, her iron familiar, named Cattywampus, to Paradise Lots, she felt the shimmering magic of the wards Marie-Ann put up all along the road.
Just as she turned into the driveway beside the old sign, Cattywampus said, “Stop here. Don’t go in yet.” Bridget never argued with Cattywampus. It had become sentient sometime in the last 70 years, and often helped her with magic.
She stopped the car just before sign with its silly flamingo. She walked to the back, leaning against the batwing tailfins. She looked around to learn what she was waiting on, sending out her Sight.
The wards were strong, more than Marie-Ann could have done by herself.
A definite man-smell mixed with herbs and oils—The Man of the Forest was helping. With the Sight, she saw warnings of browns and greens among the more iridescent sparkles. Marie-Ann always had liked glitter.
No woman was friends with The Man of the Forest, although he knew many of the older ones. He protected the forests and animals as much as possible, sometimes causing ‘accidents’ among unwary or rude hunters. She wondered what exchange Marie-Ann had given for his help.
She heard someone coming on foot through the woods. As it wasn't hunting season, she felt safe, listening both to her inner knowing and to Cattywampus for warning. She moved to the side of her car where she could get at her gun if she needed it.
Marie-Ann approached with The Man of the Forest behind her. Marie-Ann chanted, and the man marked the boundary with a stream of urine.
Bridget wondered at the size of his bladder, as Marie-Ann’s land covered about 20 acres. Best not to ask.
Marie-Ann nodded to Bridget. “You might want to back up your car a bit.”
Cattywampus started up. Bridget stepped away. The car backed up nearly to the asphalt and turned itself off.
Marie-Ann came over to her and turned her away from the sign. They could hear splashing behind them.
“He wants to talk to Lurleen,” Marie-Ann said. “I didn’t promise, but he helped anyway.”
“When do you expect the pack to come here?”
“I would have thought last night, full moon and all. Maybe they haven’t missed her yet, still high.”
Bridget nodded. “Could be tonight then.”
The Man of the Forest came up behind them, now modestly tucked into his tunic. A line of mud crossed the dirt driveway between the asphalt and the sign. “You did not bring Lurleen.”
“She is at my place.” Bridget said. “She will be staying there for a while until we get things sorted.”
“I wish to speak to her.”
“I can take you there, or you can meet us.”
“Let her know I am coming.”
Both women nodded in respect and acknowledgment. He disappeared into the woods.
“I have no idea what he wants.” Marie-Ann shrugged. “As a kid, she used to spend a lot of time outside. She must know him. ”
“Let me get her stuff, and we’ll see what happens.”
Cattywampus started up, they climbed in, and they went to the office, the old drive-in concessions stand.
Lurleen’s backpack sat on the bar, washed and packed with her clothes.
“Let me get some cash so you can go shopping.” Marie-Ann said. “She’ll need a few things, shoes particularly.” She unlocked the cashbox and took out several twenties.
“That’ll wait.” Bridget said. “I’m not letting her out of the cabin until I get a better sense of what is going on with her and what she wants.”
Cattywampus honked several times.
“I guess I’d better go.” Bridget took the money.
The two women shared a long look. “There’s not much left of the little girl I used to know,” Marie-Ann said. “But she’s grown now, and she has to make her own life now.”
“But she doesn’t have to do it alone.”
Lurleen got the rhythm of untangling the yarn and had it all rolled into neat balls. It was taking Bridget a while to get her things—probably having a long chat with Marie-Ann about the problem child.
With nothing else to do, she went out to take a walk, but found that she could not go off the porch. She could sit in the swing, or on one of the chairs to look out at the gardens or watch the many birds and insects. She tried the back door, with the same result. She would be staying at Bridget’s.
If she could not go out, maybe Dean and the pack could not come in? How good was Bridget’s magic?
She sat in the swing, moving it just a little with one foot. She relaxed, letting go of tensions she didn’t realize she was holding. Her shoulders hurt just from loosening. She felt the bruises on her ribs as she breathed...maybe not just bruises.
She tried to empty her mind, to just take in the flowers, the birds. A deer tried to go into Bridget’s vegetables, but could not push through or jump over.
Was she really safe here?
Her eyes closed, and the swing slowed to a stop. How long she sat like that, she didn’t know.
The smell woke her up, the man-smell from many years ago. Not like the rotten-sour junkie smell, or the rutting-sweat smell, but man-smell.
She jerked awake, nearly losing her balance as the sudden action made the swing move. She grabbed the back and side of the swing and pulled her feet up under her in fear.
Standing in front of the cabin was a big man in green clothing, barefoot, with long hair and beard.
The Man of the Forest.
Bridget’s magic didn’t work on him.
“Lurleen,” he said. “I must speak with you.”
She shook her head. She’d never been afraid of him when she was a child, but now she could feel his power, knew his strength. She could not fight him if he decided to take her.
“I have not come to hurt you. You will need protection, more than the witch can give you.”
“Go away.” She pulled her body into a ball, hiding her face with her arms.
“Why are you afraid of me now?”
“I was a child then. I wasn’t afraid of anything but Mama.”
“You are still a child. You have not come into your power as yet, a late bloomer.” He waved a hand toward the warded porch. “Or you have not learned to use it. ”
“What power?” she raised her head to stare at him. “I can’t even take care of myself.”
He laughed. “You lived with a pack of coyote shifters for a year, yet you are not their alpha bitch?”
“No, just a nanny dog, a Wendy to their Peter Pans. Not even Tinkerbell.”
“You underestimate yourself, as they do.”
“And how do you know this? Are you trying to tell me something?” She lowered her voice to a raspy growl. “Like ‘Luke, I am your father.’" She laughed and shook her head. "I don't have any fae blood. Just plain ol' A positive.”
“Yes, you do. I am your grandfather.” He held his arms out as if awaiting a hug. “Your mother does not know. She could not tell you.”
“Maybe I didn’t get enough of your DNA to make a difference.”
“You do not remember the magic you did as a child, making plants grow, making pictures from pebbles?”
“All children play. They have imagination.”
“And yours has been literally beaten out of you.” He shook his head, letting his antlers show. “I want to help you find that imagination again, to find your power, and teach you to use it. But you have to be safe to feel your power.”
“Bridget has me caged in here.” She shrugged. “I guess I am safe enough.”
“I helped your mother ward her property to keep her and your family safe, but it will not be enough to protect you when they come for you.”
“I have to be somewhere. I don’t want anyone else to be hurt.” She thought of what the gang might do to her sisters, pretending to be their johns. Nobody, not even the skankiest whore deserved that. “I don’t think I can live with you in the wild.”
“No, stay here for now. Rest and heal.”
They heard the sound of Cattywampus coming up the rough driveway.
“I will speak with the witch and your mother. Then you and I can make a plan.
“You have to get their permission?” She smirked at him. “That should be fun.”
“No, I have to get yours.”