Wyatt was still in a daze after Birdie's episode. She, on the other hand, seemed to be invigorated with the knowledge of half the rune being revealed for them.
She went straight for the telephone, where she rang up Anubis Avenue and alerted Ophelia to retrieve Marigold from the mechanic shop and meet them at NiNi's soda shop in exactly thirty minutes.
Wyatt watched numbly as she flitted from phone to desk, stuffing all of the articles she had to organize into her bag to finish later.
Wyatt did not see how this was wise. They could translate the rune any time and it seemed like Birdie had a lot to do.
But then again, his way of thinking was usually different than hers.
He was still dazed even as Birdie perused the library, so immersed in her element that Wyatt had become invisible entirely.
It was strange to see a creature meld with its environment. Within minutes, she had forgotten he was there, moving like a wraith from book to book, her finger scanning the indexes, her face placidly content.
Here lies your King, the stone had read. Who was buried beneath that forest?
Wyatt was still thinking about this while Birdie rummaged through book after book in the historical section.
He'd always thought of Gwydyr as its own entity, without beginning or end, a self-sufficient power source. Why did it have a king? And who exactly had this king ruled over?
How had he died?
"Hello? Wyatt Best? Anyone home?"
Birdie was before him, waving her hand in front of his face.
He snapped back to reality. She held up a large stack of books that reached to her chin.
He blinked stupidly. "How did you find--"
"It's a gift. Now come on, let's check these out and get to the soda shop before Ophelia and Marigold have a breakdown over what's going on."
Once the librarian, who looked particularly suspicious of Birdie's sudden interest in Celtic history, had stamped the insides of each cover, Birdie and Wyatt were on their way to Nini's.
Outside, most people had gone home for the day, but a few stores were still open with one or two other people walking down the sidewalk.
Birdie was nearly buzzing with excitement, but Wyatt could still see her, just a few moments ago, writhing in pain and screaming at something to stop, stop, stop.
But now, she was a completely different person. And since they'd smoothed things over between them, she was chattering on like he'd never heard before.
He half-wished she'd go back to ignoring him, just for a little while. If a compliment warranted such a result, perhaps if he kissed her she'd never talk to him again.
At the thought, he had to suppress a small grin.
It wasn't that he didn't want to hear the things she had to say, but what she was currently saying was this:
"...and then the authorities got involved. It was the very early twenties, so it took weeks to find her body--well, half of her body, because of the crows and maggots--but what else did they find along with it?" Her voice came in a conspiratorial whisper. "The body of her missing child!"
Wyatt did not remember agreeing to this conversation.
He snuck a glance at her but found that she was hardly paying any attention to him at all, so he allowed himself to stare for a second longer.
Her profile as she spoke made him smile for a reason he couldn't quite explain. Her dark eyelashes caught the evening sunlight which made her eyes look almost golden. Her nose crinkled whenever she explained something and she kept gazing at the clouds even as she talked as if it were an instinct to notice them.
She was exactly like a summer storm, Wyatt thought. One moment, she was dark and thoughtful and mysterious. A moment later, there was sunshine.
Just like how she'd sprung back from her terrifying vision, this morning she'd refused Wyatt even the slightest acknowledgment and now she was telling him the most gruesome tale with the most animated face he'd ever seen.
"So they crept through the woods, with no evidence other than a finger that had been severed and delivered to them in a golden box. Personally, if I were the murderer, I wouldn't give them a shred of proof, even if just for spite. Never works out in the end. Anyway..."
She batted her eyes quickly every time she said something of particular interest, a habit Wyatt had never noticed before.
She caught him staring at her and her features immediately clouded.
"What?" she asked flatly, hugging the books closer to her chest self-consciously.
"N-nothing," Wyatt stammered, averting his eyes. "I'm just interested."
"In what? Stories about murder or murder in general?"
"Er, the first one?"
"That's a relief."
Birdie looked down at the cement as they walked, a slight blush in her cheeks. "I guess I'm just glad to know that these visions aren't for nothing. That I can control them, instead of letting them control me."
"How many times has it happened?"
She shrugged a shoulder. "I dunno. Four, maybe five times?"
Wyatt thought about the two visions he'd seen. Were they the same thing as what Birdie had experienced? He wanted to ask her, but he didn't want to tell her about the visions.
Before he could decide which course of action to take, Ophelia's voice interrupted.
"What's all this hullabaloo?! I was doing my nails!"
Birdie and Wyatt looked up to see Marigold and Ophelia coming up in front of them.
Instinctively, they both stepped away from each other even though they hadn't really been walking closely together in the first place.
Birdie's smile was unbridled as she appraised her sisters. Her eyes were filled with excitement, and a dimple in her right cheek made a rare appearance.
Wyatt, mercifully, wasn't the only one who stared.
Marigold put a fist on her hip. "What's got you all bright-eyed this afternoon?"
"I found out what the rune says," Birdie blurted.
Shock mirrored her excitement.
"How?' Ophelia whispered almost reverently.
"It doesn't matter," Birdie replied.
Marigold looked like she was about to protest this statement, but Birdie rushed them on to the soda parlor like a general leading her army to war.
They sat in their usual left-hand corner, Marigold beside Wyatt and Ophelia and Birdie across from them.
Birdie began dishing out books like they were servings of rice pilaf and devouring them page-by-page as if they were filet mignon.
Soon their Coca-Cola bottles lost their icy sheen, turning into condensation that dripped down the green glass, remaining untouched for minutes that stretched on and on.
The counter clerk absently wiped down the bar, craning his neck to see what the teenagers were doing. Their lack of noise was unsettling, especially for this particular group.
The paper with the runes inscribed on it was passed around and fought over in surprisingly civil fashion, never above a low voice.
They skimmed each book, just as they had when they'd first tried to learn about Gwydyr.
In the beginning, they searched for any and every ancient king mentioned on the pages. After an hour, it proved unfruitful.
They drank their Coca-Colas.
"Look at this," Ophelia said, turning her book around to show them a picture of a tomb that looked almost exactly like the one in the cathedral. "It says here that this type of burial is for kings who died in battle, or when their reign ended before natural causes."
"So it's a warrior, then," Marigold mused.
This gave them renewed energy and they began the painstaking job of locating each symbol and piecing it together themselves.
The Ogham alphabet was difficult to translate, as each letter was named after nature (birch, blackthorn, reed, elder....) but soon, familiar letters began popping up in books like The Celtic History of Wormwood, A Word on European Structures, and Ancient Inscriptions of the Anglo-Saxons.
Ophelia was the first to find a letter that matched one of the markings, then Marigold (twice), then Birdie.
Having come across a slightly competitive streak that hadn't been there before, Wyatt was so engrossed in his own search that he didn't notice that all of the letters had been found.
He didn't hear Ophelia's gasp.
He didn't feel the absolute stillness that always follows a moment of utter shock.
He didn't see Marigold slowly covering her mouth or Birdie staring at him with horror on her face.
Finally, he looked up.
Then down at the paper.
The name of the ancient king buried beneath Gwydyr was Wyatt Best.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hey everyone! I was too excited to post this chapter to wait until later XD
~Were you surprised?
~Any predictions?
~Thoughts on anything else in the chapter?
Thank you so much for reading! Don't forget to comment, vote, and share!