scudded across the sky, and on the horizon reared a great house with windows glowing yellow and red. Somehow Haley knew the rider would not reach the house in time.
Linette grimaced. On her shoulder the kinkajou had fallen asleep again. She untangled its paws from her hair and asked, “The Erl-King? What’s that?”
Lie Vagal took a step closer to her.
“—‘Oh father! My father! And dost thou not see?
The Erl-King and his daughter are waiting for me?’
—‘Now shame thee, my dearest! Tis fear makes thee blind
Thou seest the dark willows which wave in the wind.’ ”
He stopped. Linette shivered, glanced aside at Haley. “Wow. That’s creepy—you really like all this creepy stuff . . . ”
Haley swallowed and tried to look unimpressed. “That was a song?”
He shook his head. “It’s a poem, actually. I just ripped off the words, that’s all.” He hummed softly. Haley vaguely recognized the tune and guessed it must be from his album.
“ ‘Oh father, my father,’ ” he sang, and reached to take Linette’s hand. She joined him shyly, and the kinkajou drooped from her shoulder across her back.
“Lie!”
The voice made the girls jump. Linette clutched at Lie. The kinkajou squealed unhappily.
“Gram.” Lie’s voice sounded somewhere between reproach and disappointment as he turned to face her. She stood in the doorway, weaving a little and with one hand on the doorframe to steady herself.
“It’s late. I think those girls should go home now.”
Linette giggled, embarrassed, and said, “Oh, we don’t have—”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Haley broke in, and sidled toward the door. Lie Vagal stared after her, then turned to Linette.
“Why don’t you come back tomorrow, if you want to see more of the house? Then it won’t get too late.” He winked at Haley. “And Gram is here, so your parents shouldn’t have to worry.”
Haley reddened. “They don’t care,” she lied. “It’s just, it’s kind of late and all.”
“Right, that’s right,” said the old lady. She waited for them all to pass out of the room, Lie pausing to unplug the Christmas-tree lights, and then followed them downstairs.
On the outside patio the girls halted, unsure how to say goodbye.
“Thank you,” Haley said at last. She looked at the old lady. “For the tea.”
“Yeah, thanks,” echoed Linette. She looked over at Lie Vagal standing in the doorway. The backlight made of him a black shadow, the edges of his hair touched with gold. He nodded to her, said nothing. But as they made their way back down the moonlit hill his voice called after them with soft urgency.
“Come back,” he said.
It was two more days before Haley returned to Linette’s. After dinner she rode her bike up the long rutted dirt drive, dodging cabbage butterflies and locusts and looking sideways at Kingdom Come perched upon its emerald hill. Even before she reached the cottage she knew Linette wasn’t there.
“Haley. Come on in.”
Aurora stood in the doorway, her cigarette leaving a long blue arabesque in the still air as she beckoned Haley. The girl leaned her bike against the broken stalks of sunflowers and delphiniums pushing against the house and followed Aurora.
Inside was cool and dark, the flagstones’ chill biting through the soles of Haley’s sneakers. She wondered how Aurora could stand to walk barefoot, but she did: her feet small and dirty, toenails buffed bright pink. She wore a short black cotton tunic that hitched up around her narrow hips. Some days it doubled as nightgown and daywear; Haley guessed this was one of those days.
“Tea?”
Haley nodded, perching on an old ladderback chair in the kitchen and pretending interest in an ancient issue of Dairy Goat magazine. Aurora walked a little unsteadily from counter to sink to stove, finally handing Haley her cup and then sinking into an overstuffed armchair near the window. From Aurora’s mug the smell of juniper cut through the bergamot-scented kitchen. She sipped her gin and regarded Haley with slitted eyes.
“So. You met Lie Vagal.”
Haley shrugged and stared out the window. “He had Valentine,” she said at last.
“He still does—the damn thing ran back over yesterday. Linette went after it last night and didn’t come back.”
Haley felt a stab of betrayal. She hid her face behind her steaming mug. “Oh,” was all she said.
“You’ll have to go get her, Haley. She won’t come back for me, so it’s up to you.” Aurora tried to make her voice light, but Haley recognized the strained desperate note in it. She looked at Aurora and frowned.
You’re her mother, you bring her back, she thought, but