He smiled back. “Of course. But why kiss me?”
“Because. I told you already. You are nice. I like you.”
“You don’t even know me.”
“You don’t kiss people because you know them. You kiss them because you want to.”
He wasn’t sure that was so for most people, but maybe it was for her. They sat together in silence for a few moments, and then he said, “Why do you think your friend was killed by the creature?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe he did something to make it angry. Maybe he did something he shouldn’t have.”
“What about the other people? Did they all do something to make it angry?”
“I wouldn’t know. I’m only guessing.” She looked at him again. “Do you think it killed them for no reason?”
“I don’t know why it kills. Maybe it was random. Maybe it just kills because it likes killing.”
“That would make it difficult to find, wouldn’t it?” she asked. “How would you ever find it? Unless you happened to be right there when it tried to kill someone, you never could.”
“Oh, we’ll find it,” he replied.
Starks and her father were coming back from the mill, their dark forms emerging from the darkness. “Do you want me to come back tomorrow?” he asked her suddenly.
She leaned into him. “Yes. Father will be gone for several hours in the early afternoon, making deliveries. We could talk more then.” She hesitated. “I have things I need to tell you.”
She stood suddenly, pulling him up with her. “I like you, Paxon. I like you a lot.”
Then she turned and ran back inside the cabin and did not come out again.
TWELVE
AT NOON OF THE FOLLOWING DAY, PAXON RODE OUT ALONE TO the old mill, taking his time as he went. The day was gray and cloudy, the smell of rain in the air, the dampness palpable on the chilly wind that blew down out of the north. Paxon was thinking about what waited, his mind on unanswered questions, some of which he would ask, some he might not. The answers he anticipated receiving did not put him in a good mood. His suspicions were aroused, had been so since last night, and his expectation of what he would find out today depressed him. But he was protector for the Druids, and so he would do what he knew he must to put an end to the creature.
He had talked it over with Starks after they had returned from Crombie Joh’s mill yesterday, deeply concerned for the girl Iantha, worried that she was in considerable danger. It seemed obvious to him by now that the miller was the creature they were hunting, and his daughter knew it and was looking for a way to get away from him. Starks wondered why she hadn’t been attacked before now, though he guessed maybe her father could distinguish between her and anyone else when he was the creature. But he agreed after hearing the details of her conversation with Paxon that there was cause for concern for her welfare and that something needed to be done.
“If I can be alone with her for an hour–with no danger of her father interfering–I think I can find out the truth,” Paxon had insisted. “I think Iantha will tell me the truth.”
Starks wasn’t so sure, but he had agreed to let Paxon try. “You’ll have to go alone,” he had said. “She likely won’t talk to you if I’m there. But you be careful, Paxon. We still don’t know what’s happening here. I know you like this girl, but she may be more under her father’s control than you realize. She may even betray you to him.”
But Paxon did not think this was so, believing instead that this was a chance to help someone who desperately needed it. With his sword to protect him, he felt more than capable of carrying out his effort to uncover the truth.
As he neared the mill, he slowed his mount, careful to keep watch and to listen for the miller’s wagon. He believed the man had already gone to make his deliveries, but he couldn’t take anything for granted. If he was seen, he would have to turn back. He couldn’t let Joh discover he had been to visit Iantha secretly. Not without first knowing if his suspicions were correct.
But when he passed by the old mill and approached the cottage, he found Iantha waiting for him, already seated on the steps of the porch. She rushed up to him at once and took his hands in hers. “Tie up your horse in the trees across the way,” she told him, a note of urgency in her voice. “Father is already gone, but if he should come back early, he won’t know you’re here.”
Paxon did as she asked, then walked back over to the porch to sit with her. She went into the house and returned again with glasses of cold ale and a plate of fresh bread. “I’m so glad you came back, Paxon,” she said, sitting close to him. “I feel so much better when you’re here.” She glanced at him shyly. “You must think me very forward.”
“I think you are scared,” he replied, his eyes on her face. “I came back because I wanted to see you, but also because I am worried about you. Do you have something to say about that?”
She seemed almost ready to speak, but then there was a hesitation in her response and a tightening of her shoulders. She shook her head. “Can we talk about something else first? Tell me about Paranor!”
He did, anxious to put her at ease, to give her a chance to collect herself so she could tell him what she knew. It would not be easy, talking about her father, revealing him as the creature that was killing the villagers. In spite of what he was, he expected she loved him and had been protecting him for some time now. She would know something was wrong, living with him as she was, and she would be torn between her love for him and her need to tell someone what he was.
They spoke together quietly for the better part of an hour, Paxon giving descriptions of the Druid’s Keep, providing entertaining stories about various Druids, even giving her a brief explanation detailing his own training for the order. She was fascinated by everything–her eyes wide, her enthusiasm unbounded, and her questions unending. How did this happen? What did you do then? Were you ever frightened by what might become of you? On and on. But he could feel her loosening up, and it would not be long now before she was ready to talk to him about her father.
Still, he was aware of time slipping away; neither of them could be certain how much of it they had left. Patience was one thing, but unreasonable delay was another. Paxon needed to persuade her to talk to him before doing so became too dangerous.
So, finally, he took her hands in his and gently squeezed them. “We have to talk about your father now. I need you to tell me the truth about him. You said you were frightened. What is it that frightens you?”
She dipped her head again, a protective gesture, and for a long time she didn’t speak. She let him hold her hands and once or twice she squeezed them back, but her face remained hidden in the veil of her long brown hair.
“This is very hard,” she said finally.
He nodded, waiting on her. She leaned forward suddenly and kissed him again. In spite of the circumstances, he found himself kissing her back.
“I like you so much,” she said, breaking the kiss. “You are kind and patient with me. I’m going to hate it when you are gone. I will miss you.”
“Just tell me,” he encouraged her.
She shook her head. There were tears in her eyes. “I don’t know how!”
“Does your father have something to do with all the killings that have happened in Eusta?” he tried, thinking a nudge might help.
She clenched her fists. “We shouldn’t talk about this, Paxon. You should forget I said anything. In fact, you should leave now. My father will be back soon, and I don’t want him to find you here. I’m sorry.”