"Ivy! Ivy!" Will shouted, pounding on the front door. Then he raced around the outside of the house, looking for some other way in.
He saw Gregory's car parked in the back. He stopped — Tristan stopped — at the broken window and the door that opened into Andrew's office.
"Ivy, what the— Who did this?" Gregory was saying, bending over her, gently pulling off the sack. "Are you okay? Easy now. You're safe now."
Fireplace tools were scattered on the floor. Ivy rubbed her head and stared up at Gregory. Then they both turned to look at Will, who was framed by the open door. Tristan had just slipped out of Will, but he saw the fear and mistrust in Ivy's face and the angry flush on Gregory's.
"What are you doing here?" Gregory demanded.
Will was speechless, and even if Tristan had stayed inside him, he couldn't have given an answer chat would have satisfied Gregory or Ivy.
"I don't know," Will said. "I just thought- I just knew I had to be here. I felt something was wrong and that I had to come."
With the angry color draining out of Gregory's face, his skin looked paler than normal. He looked almost as shaken as Ivy.
"Are you all right. Ivy?" Will asked.
She nodded and turned away, resting her head against Gregory's chest, "Is there anything I can do?" Will asked.
"No."
"I'd better call the police," he said.
"You'd better," Gregory said, his voice cold and unfriendly.
When Will placed the call, he spoke calmly, but Tristan knew that his partner was as shaken and bewildered as he. Tristan knew little more than Will about how he had first sensed that Ivy was in danger.
She needs you. The message had come to Tristan, though whether he'd heard it or simply understood it, he couldn't say. But knowing that something was about to happen, and remembering that Lacey had said he could not rescue her himself, that he had to combine his powers with someone else's, he had rushed right to Will, urging him to go to Ivy, to help her.
It had been a struggle, especially at the beginning. Tristan had to learn to channel his energy, and gradually Will gave himself over to his direction. Tristan wondered if Will realized he had driven up the hill at eighty miles per hour, despite the upgrade and turns. Did Will remember racing around from the front to the back of the house faster than was humanly possible?
But still not fast enough to catch Ivy's attacker, thought Tristan. Until he knew who the attacker was, there was no way of guessing when he'd strike next, or how Will and he could protect Ivy.
Will and he. He and Will. There was no denying now that Will cared for Ivy — and that Tristan needed him to.
Tristan watched as Gregory picked up Ivy and carried her to the sofa. Ella Crouched under Andrew's desk, her eyes glowing like embers.
"Who was it, Ella?" Tristan asked. "You're the only one who saw it. Who did this?"
Will left the room and came back with an icepack.
Gregory held it gently against Ivy's head. "I'm here. Everything's going to be all right," he said over and over, continually rubbing her back and soothing her.
Before long they heard the whine of a siren. A police car swung into the driveway, followed unexpectedly by another car. Andrew's.
"What happened?" Andrew cried» rushing into the house with the officers. "Ivy, are you all right?"
He looked at the broken window, then at Will, and finally turned his attention to Gregory. "Why are you here?" he asked. "You're supposed to be with Maggie and Philip."
"Why are you?" Gregory asked back. Andrew glanced quickly at the police, then gestured toward his desk. "I left some papers behind, some reports I wanted to work on at the lake."
"I came because Ivy called me," Gregory said. "I'd told her earlier today that she should call me if she needed anything." He gazed down at her. Ivy met his eyes with a puzzled expression.
"It was you who called me, wasn't it?" he asked. "No."
Gregory looked surprised, then squeezed her hands hard and dropped them. "Whew," he said softly.
"You owe somebody big time."
He turned to the others. "When we got to the lake, I had to run out to the store. Maggie had remembered everything for our trip, except toilet paper.
"When I returned, the man at the lodge said someone had called three times, asking for me, but didn't leave a message. I figured it was Ivy. It's been rough for her lately — you know that," he said, appealing to his father. "I didn't waste any time. I came right home."
"Lucky girl," remarked one of the police officers.
The police began to ask questions then. Tristan moved slowly around the room, studying faces and reading what the police were scribbling down.
Was it jealousy that he felt every time he saw Gregory touch Ivy? Or was it some kind of intuition? he wondered. Was Ivy really safe in Gregory's arms?
Had Gregory told Eric that Ivy would be alone all weekend? If Eric was responsible for this, would Gregory cover for him?
And why had Gregory questioned his father? Did he think Andrew's excuse for returning to the house was a little too convenient?
The police stayed a long time that afternoon and asked lots of questions, but it seemed to Tristan they were all the wrong ones.
When Ivy answered the door on Tuesday morning, she knew that Beth had read the local paper. Her friend stepped inside with a quick, shy "How're you doing?" She hugged Ivy, nearly squeezing the breath out of her, then backed off, blushing.
"I'm fine." said Ivy. "I'm really fine."
"Are you?" Beth looked like a worried mother owl, her eyes wide, her frosted hair falling out of its knot in soft feathers. She stared at Ivy's bruised cheek.
"It's the newest thing since tattoos," Ivy said, smiling and touching her face lightly.
"Your (ace looks like… a pansy."
Ivy laughed. "Purple and yellow. I'm going to look great for the festival. You got anything that matches?"
Beth tried to smile, but ended up biting her lip.
"Come on back," Ivy said, leading her to the kitchen. "Let's get something to drink. We have to stick around here for a few minutes. I'm getting interviewed for the third time."
"By a newspaper?"
"By the police."
"The police! Ivy, did you tell them—" Beth hesitated.
"Tell them what?"
"About the computer messages," Beth said quietly.
"No." Ivy pulled out a bar stool for Beth to sit on. "Why should I? It was nothing more than a strange coincidence. You were just fooling around and—" The look in Beth's eyes stopped her. "I wasn't fooling around."
Ivy shrugged a little, then measured out some coffee beans. Since Friday evening she had been acting as if nothing much had happened, as if she had already gotten over the scare. She felt bad about ruining everyone's weekend and tried to keep them from worrying and fussing over her. But the truth was, she was glad to have her family home with her. She was starting to get spooked.
Philip was convinced an angel had sent Gregory to save her — the same angel who had prevented him from tumbling out of the tree house, he said. Recently he had found a statue of an angelic baseball player and claimed it had been delivered to him by a glowing friend of his own guardian.
Ivy knew her brother was talking like this because he was frightened. Maybe, Ivy thought, having lost Tristan, Philip was scared of losing her, too. Maybe that was why he had warned her several times about the train climbing up die ridge to get her.
How could she blame him? With the car accident, then Friday's close call. Ivy herself imagined hidden dangers wherever she looked. And if there was one thing she didn't heed just then, it was Beth looking at her as if she had glimpsed something frightening from beyond.
"Beth, you're my friend, and you were worried about me being alone, the same way Suzanne and Gregory were worried. The difference is, you're a writer and — and you've got a very active imagination," Ivy added, smiling. "It's only natural that when you worry, it comes out in a story."