The Violet Thread (Part One: Portal Rods)

Chapter Seventeen

Wyeth sat on the edge of Katia's bed. He rubbed his palm behind him across the worn linen blanket. Without looking, he fingered the deep purple lily hand embroidered into the corner. It was a warm, sturdy quilt only brought out during the cold months. There were so many memories in this room. He vaguely remembered when she had made the blanket. Although he knew the lily had a meaning, he couldn't remember what it had symbolized for Katia. He had his own sentiments connected to that flower.

As a child, he had curled up at the foot of this bed, too proud to admit he was afraid of the storm, and had offered to protect his mother from the thunder. He even teased Sawyer when, he too, eventually wound up climbing into the bed. He used to finger the lily then too, rubbing his fingers on the outline as he fell asleep, a reminder of where he was as he drifted off in the dark. It wasn't until he was older that he realized she had known of his fear all along, but still shivered and told him she was glad he was there to keep her safe. He could almost feel her hand reaching down to rub his shoulder blades.

The bed had not been used in a little under a week. The storms had heightened for only a few hours after they had passed through the portal and then had ceased suddenly. It was as if Gavin knew she and the amulet were out of his reach. And maybe that was exactly the case. He sighed deeply at the thought of Violet trying to explain how she could sense Gavin using the other half. His stomach churned at the uncertainty of what had happened once they had crossed the threshold.

He arched an eyebrow and looked around the room. He stood and picked up a few books from the shelf built into the wall. He put them into one of several boxes on the floor.

He had called a meeting of the heads of the boats and explained what he could of what had happened. He believed they deserved the truth and did what he thought Katia would do. Gavin had made a veiled threat against them and they needed to be prepared. They had been saddened but not entirely surprised that she would not return. She had put a plan into motion months before should anything happen to her or call her away for too long. They had offered him her ship, but he declined. He would be shoring himself for the time being. It was not entirely unheard of that a gypsy would decide to leave the water, but the situation at hand was certainly not anything they had ever encountered. And, so, now he packed her things hoping that someday he would be able to give them to her. Sawyer, at least, had planned on going and had sorted through his own belongings. He had two small boxes prepacked in the corner of the boat strapped under a tarp right where his hammock used to hang. His own boxes were under there, as well. He picked up Katia's hairbrush and untwisted the curly graying hair from the bristles and tossed the strands into the bin. He put the wooden brush into the box. He pulled a tapestry from the wall and laughed softly at the crack in the wood behind. He had forgotten that she had hung the piece after he and Sawyer had argued...he couldn't recall what over...something stupid probably. He had punched Sawyer in the arm and so Sawyer had thrown a small steel weight. He had ducked and it hit the wall, splintering the wood. They were eleven or so and Mama Kat had made them scrub the deck with a toothbrush every day for a week. They had picked out and paid for the tapestry as a peace offering. They had argued over that too. He had liked a green one, woven with silver and birds or something. Sawyer had liked one that was red, if he remembered correctly. They had met in the middle and picked out this one. He laughed again as he folded it and laid it in another box. It was not a beautiful tapestry. In fact, one of the reasons they had finally agreed was because it was on sale, probably because no one else wanted it. But still, Mama had teared up when they gave it to her, poorly wrapped in brown paper and string. She had said it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. She hung it over the hole and said it would always remind her that they were capable of anything together.

"To break and to mend," she had said. "To which end was up to them." Who was he now without her? Without Sawyer? Without Violet? He had changed so much since meeting her. It seemed like a lifetime ago. He even found himself missing Arach, the arrogant, self righteous...he rolled his eyes and snorted as he continued packing.