Reckonings by Carla Jablonski Page A

Molly’s tight muscles even more.
    There were stories about the stones on Leanan Hill. Some said they were put there back in the days of the Druids for their rituals. Others claimed that the stones actually were those same Druids, now transformed and lending power to the spot for magical workings. Gran had always told Molly the stones were people who had crossed the fairies. After seeing Titania, the Faerie Queen, in action, Molly could well believe it.
    But right now the stone didn’t feel like anything other than a good sturdy support. Something she was in serious need of.
    Dear Molly, Marya had written:
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    I don’t know how to tell you this, because I think you will be upset, but I also know I must. I ran into Tim yesterday while I was out walking the puppy, and he looked truly terrible. He was upset and admitted he was confused. After I left him, I realized that he knew the puppy’s name was Daniel! I didn’t figureit out at the time, but the only way for Tim to have known that was if he had somehow been there that night and saw the Body Artist work her magic. Which means…
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    Molly crumpled the paper, unable to read another word. She knew exactly what that meant. It meant that Tim had heard everything she and Marya had said. That he now knew all about what he might grow up to do. And he knew she was thinking of breaking up with him for it.
    Molly dropped Marya’s letter and covered her face . He must feel so awful , she thought. Tim felt things so strongly, and with all he was going through now, finding out that he might grow up to be evil—that he could become a dragon—might push him right over the edge. “And I’m not there for him to talk to,” she murmured. Then a new thought chilled her. “Will he even talk to me after what he heard me saying? And can I be brave enough to talk to him?”
    She pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them tightly. Why hadn’t she just been honest with him and told him all she knew when she had the chance? To find out this way was so much worse. Tears sprang into her eyes. “Poor Tim.”
    What must it have felt like to have overheardthat conversation? Like betrayal, that’s what. To have to listen to someone you trust talking about abandoning you like that. A total stunner. And worse, he’d been given no way to defend himself to her. And worse than that , Molly thought, stacking up worse and worsers, must have been hearing that he could grow up to be evil!
    Molly found herself standing, pacing. “I have to talk to him.” But how? She stopped abruptly. It’s not like Gran’s wired for telecommunication. She doesn’t even have a phone, not to mention e-mail. And it’s not likely that Tim will come strolling up the lane out here . “I wish he would. Or I wish I could go see him.”
    Wishes. Didn’t Gran always say you could ask the fairies for wishes? On the top of Leanan Hill, as a matter of fact.
    She tried to remember everything her gran had ever told her, all those stories she had dismissed as, well, fairy tales. There were nursery rhymes and bedtime tales and strange little folk sayings, and now Molly scolded herself for not paying more attention. Still, she couldn’t be too hard on herself. How could she possibly have known that Gran might have been on to something—that all those stories might be real? Or realish.
    Molly thought about the little sprites Granhad described, and then recalled Auberon and Titania, the King and Queen of Faerie. Were they the same species as Gran’s little fluttering winged mischief makers? It didn’t seem possible. Titania and Auberon hadn’t seemed like the types to grant wishes, either. Gran’s wish-granting sprites must be of a different order; related but different. Kind of like the difference between house cats and panthers.
    â€œI think I’m supposed to make an offering,” Molly recalled.