38

Zombreimas

"Back so soon?" asked their mother as Lottica and Nick raced from the spiral staircase into the foyer where their luggage was strewn.

Out of breath, Lottica panted, "We thought…we'd help out…with the luggage before… we got too distracted." She wanted to appear helpful and mature, though her racing heart made her feel like a badly frightened child.

The portrait of Beilla, black cape and all, they’d encountered upstairs spooked them. It was one of many family paintings lining the long hallway, but they bolted back downstairs without exploring any further.

"Well, go help your father unload the rest of the car,” their mother suggested. “He said that being back here makes him feel like a teenager again. He shouldn’t overdo it, though."

As they walked out to the Land Rover, Nick whispered to Lottica, "Don't say anything about Hawk. Not yet, anyway."

"Why not? It's not like Mom and Dad won't believe us."

"I'm not sure,” Nick hesitated. “I guess I don't want to worry them. I don't want them to think we’re too wigged out by all this."

"Well, that painting of Beilla had me freaked."

"Yeah. Too creepy. Let's get a little more settled in before we start asking hundreds of questions. We're all tired."

"Nick, you’re sounding so grown up.” She gave gave him a nudge with her elbow. “Except when you saw Beilla’s portrait. You yipped louder than me.”

"Yeah," he returned the nudge, "but I'm sure my squeal was much more dignified.”

They found their father sitting on the back bumper of the Land Rover staring off down the wide, tree-lined drive. He smiled as they approached and made room on the back bumper for them. "Take a load off. Travel can definitely tire the best of us—even zombies. Or I guess in our case zombreimas."

"Daaad," Lottica said in that you-should-know-better way. "You're not a zombie. Or a zombreima! You're a, a…" she gently touched her father's bruised-but-improving face and finished confidently, "…a miracle!"

"Thanks, daarling. You are too kind." He hugged Lottica. "Can you believe what we've been through? Can you imagine what's ahead?"

Nick nodded, thinking about the Hawk's luminescent eyes and the cold gaze from Beilla's portrait. "Yeah, this'll be interesting." He reached for the golf case holding Lottica's telescope. "We'll help you get this stuff inside, and then maybe we can figure out what our next step is."

"Good idea. But first, sit here with me a minute. Let me take this in. I knew someday I'd bring you both here. Lebreima may seem strange to you. In many ways, it does to me. But I grew up here.”

Deilune sighed wistfully. "I'll try not to get too sentimental on you. It's just that I want this part of me, Lebreima, to be a part of you. Even if it is only a small part." He lowered his head. "It makes me understand a bit more about my parents. How they must have felt when I left for America and then stayed there. And gave all this up.

“Sometimes," his voice trailed away as he gazed at the rolling hills beyond lush trees, "you go looking for a future and make the mistake of believing you'll revisit the past when it’s convenient. But the past, all those places, people and experiences, they're on the move, too.”

He grinned. "Okay, enough nostalgia. There's a ton of very cool places I want to show you. But, feel free to start gagging and rolling your eyes if I get too maudlin. Better yet, if I begin prefacing everything I say with ‘when-I-was-your-age,’ just take my magical ring and throw it down the well over there."

He pointed to a small stand of trees surrounding a weathered stone structure where the manor’s well was located. Lottica and Nick, however, didn’t focus on where their dad was pointing. That seemed irrelevant. Because their dad’s ring, a ring that was part Kareima, had begun to rhythmically pulse a brilliant blue.