“Yeah, thanks,” Austin said, in gray sweats that actually fit him. He’d clearly brought his own.
Edgar stood by the window, looking out. “That basajaun needs to stay near the house, not way out in the woods. This is where the enemy will end up.”
“Basajaun rely on the woods for information,” Austin said as he got his cup of coffee. “They listen to the trees and the birds and the wildlife. They feel sensations through the ground. If he’s in the middle of the property, he can move in any direction at the first sign of a presence. Ivy House might not be able to sense the trespassers, but the intruders will brush against trees. They will be seen by the wildlife. Information of their presence will reach the basajaun. In the meantime, he isn’t leaving his scent near the deer’s usual hangout. No enemy wants to tango with a basajaun, no matter how fierce. Seeing it in action one time will tell you why.”
“You could take him,” I said. “You were bigger than him on your hind legs.”
“It’s not about size, it’s about ferocity, but yes, I could take him. I have my own unbridled ferocity. I cannot be tamed, despite how much I desperately wish I could.”
His cobalt eyes beat into mine, that last sentence for me specifically, I knew. His demons had clearly been haunting him last night.
“No man can be tamed,” I said, not trying to convince him or change the status quo, just speaking the truth as I knew it. “The only way a man can change is if he wants the change for himself. If it’s not initiated by him, he can bend, he can pretend, but he’ll go back to being exactly who he was at the get-go. And that’s okay. None of us are perfect. None of us are fully comfortable with ourselves—there are always going to be things you don’t like. Ghosts and insecurities, dark places. The trick is finding someone who is as comfortable with your dark side as you are with theirs. The trick is not to change someone to fit you, but to find someone with whom you don’t have to change.”
His nostrils flared as he breathed out, bracing his hands against the island. “Now look who’s saying all the right things,” he said softly.
“Well said, miss. Many a woman has tried to change me. But alas…” Mr. Tom held out his hands. “I am who I am.”
Sometimes I wished Niamh lived in Ivy House so she could always be on hand to laugh with me.
“Right. Fine. Edgar, showtime.” I motioned for him to speak.
“Yes! Of course.” Edgar spun around to face me, still cradling his arm. “What?”
I gave him a little numbing agent for the pain so he could focus.
“Why did you wake me up at two in the morning?” I asked.
“Oh yes.” He gave a sheepish smile. “Follow me.”
We entered the secret passageways near the back door, following the blue-lit halls until the path sloped downward, the wood of the walls turning to stone and then rough-hewn rock. I watched out for the jagged edges that in the past had left scratches across my arms.
After I ducked through the last bit of tunnel, directly behind Edgar, the ceiling curved up into an arch and the passageway opened into a vast chamber under the house. A wrought-iron light fixture hung from the bottom of a chain connected to the ceiling, the light within glowing the same pale blue that lit the secret hallways. Below that, rising on a pedestal, were large crystals in a plethora of colors.
A large volume lay open on a bookstand in front of the crystals, something I hadn’t seen before. The familiar text Edgar had been working on sat on the ground beside it, also open, with a piece of paper covered in Edgar’s rough scribbles and a pen lying on top. A small round table had been brought in, covered in papers bearing various notes and pictures. A TV tray, badly leaning, sat off to the right, also covered in papers, strange symbols written on some of them in purple Sharpie. Pieces of colored construction paper, cut in strange shapes, were taped to the legs.
If that all wasn’t weird enough, more papers—colorful and not so much—were taped to the rock walls, connected by lines of purple and orange yarn. A bunch of oddly shaped doilies sat in a leaning pile in the back.
“Wow.” My mouth dropped open as I took it all in. “Edgar…this is an A Beautiful Mind-type situation.”
“Why, thank you.” He beamed, standing next to the volume on the bookstand.
“That wasn’t a compliment. I think you might be crazy, buddy.”
“Crazy amazing, right?” He chuckled to himself. “All jokes aside, I think I have it, Jessie. With Ivy House’s help”—he laid his hand on the open volume—“I’ve looked through all the house’s failures. Now, the information was not easy to find. She has a sense of humor, the ol’ gal.” He chuckled again.