Dark Carousel (Dark 26)

Charlotte had no idea what that meant. She hadn't been able to help Lourdes or Genevieve or even herself. How could she possibly help traumatized children recover from such a nightmare? She rested her cheek against Tariq's rib cage. He seemed so sure of himself, so certain he had a way to help the children. If he did, he needed to let her in on it, because she was feeling overwhelmed.

"Liv," Tariq said gently. "I'm going to take Charlotte into the basement, where the carousel horses that need restoration are. Everything is going to be all right. Can you get through another evening?"

Liv nodded. "I want to visit Emeline. She helps."

"She's dark inside," Amelia protested. "That doesn't help you, Liv."

"I'm dark inside," Liv said. "Not the same as Emme, but she understands. No one else feels this inside me."

"I do," Tariq said, intervening between the siblings. "I feel it. I know it's there, crouching close, trying to swallow you. I know you're fighting as hard as you can. Amelia, if Emeline helps her get through a night, you need to let her go visit."

Amelia shook her head and took a step toward her younger sister. Instantly Liv transferred her hold from Tariq to Amelia.

"Come with me, then. Emeline can use company," Liv invited.

"I have to watch Bella," Amelia said.

"I can do that," Genevieve volunteered. "I'm taking Lourdes back to the play yard while Tariq talks jobs with Charlotte. Bella can come with us if she wants."

"Danny?" Amelia asked.

Danny nodded slowly. "Go with her, Amelia. Let's just get her through each night any way we can. I'll help Genevieve with Bella and Lourdes."

"Liv," Tariq said in his soft, persuasive, spellbinding voice. "You have to eat. I've given you help, but you need to actually try. It won't taste good and you'll feel sick, but it will stay down. In order for me to help you, you have to be strong enough. You understand? You know what I'm saying to you. Don't think you can take the easy way out. Together we'll get through this. All of us."

Tears swam in the child's eyes but she blinked them away and nodded slowly. "I'll eat. Just not meat, Tariq. I can get the broth down."

"Broth it is," he said. "Emeline will have some at her house. Amelia will see to it that you eat this evening." He held the child's eyes until she nodded a second time, clearly capitulating, falling under his spell just like Charlotte did.

Tariq took her hand and tugged, taking her away from the little group. "That's my family. The children."

"Tariq, what in the world are you going to do with them?"

"Give them time to process what happened to them and build them up as much as I can before I bring them fully into my world."

"I don't understand." And she didn't. His world? Weren't they already in it?

"The children are still in danger, as are you and Lourdes and your friend Genevieve. They know that, and they also know it's safer here than anywhere else." He led her back in the direction of the house.

"I don't understand any of this, Tariq. What's happening between us, the children, why those awful men are stalking us, Fridrick." He wasn't really answering her questions.

"It's happening to you because you're gifted. Genevieve's gifted. Lourdes is or Fridrick would have killed her."

"He said she was bait."

"You would have come home for your brother's funeral regardless. He knew that. Lourdes has some sort of psychic ability or she wouldn't be alive. Danny, Amelia, Liv and Bella do as well. Whatever his reasons, Fridrick and the others he works with want to acquire those gifts through you."

"Emeline?"

For the first time Tariq hesitated. "Emeline is complicated," he said finally. "She's got a strong psychic gift, and more than any other, she is in trouble. It is necessary for her to stay here to be safe. She will welcome friends. She needs them." His hand stroked a caress through her hair. "I guess we all need you, Charlotte."

She liked the feeling of his fingers in her hair, but it didn't ease her fears. She had no idea how to help any of these traumatized people, not even Lourdes. Not even herself.

8

Charlotte stared in total awe at the collection of carousel horses in the basement. Tariq Asenguard was a serious collector. Most were European, but like the carousel on his patio, there were two other American ones.

"Museums don't have such beautiful works," she whispered reverently. "Tariq, where did you get these? Ricard went his entire life looking for just one of the original carved horses used for training noblemen in the art of ring spearing during tournaments, and you have four of them."

"I have always been interested in carousel horses, the origins and how they evolved. The first carousels were necessarily different from the ones today, but no less intriguing and fun, maybe even more so."

Tariq sounded far away, as if he were back in time with the French some three hundred years earlier. Charlotte turned to look at his face. Clearly he had thought a lot about what had transpired. He looked as if he was remembering rather than thinking about what it would have been like.

"In the early eleven hundreds, the Turks and Arabs played a game, although they weren't really messing around. They were deadly serious about their game. The Italians and Spaniards referred to the game as 'little war' and that's where the term carosella came from. The carousel was born right there, but no one had a clue how it would evolve, or even that women and children would find great enjoyment on it. I love that the carousel came about with the idea of training men for warfare and ended up being something special for everyone to enjoy and relax around," Tariq said.

Charlotte had always loved that fact as well. She'd been drawn to the history of the carousel just as Tariq was. They had that in common. She loved the individual artwork on the carved wooden horses. The detail, as if the artist had taken such care to make each piece something special even knowing the nobleman training on it might not ever notice. The carvers were the artists, men exposing small bits of their souls while they worked.

"I love that you know that," Charlotte admitted. "They didn't have the tools to work with back then that we do now, but still, they were meticulous in their work. Ricard had a theory that the earliest horses were carved by a single man. Two at the most. The horses were different, but the technique, the care and attention to detail, was so perfect that he doubted more than one man would have that ability."

"I would have liked to have met Ricard Beaudet. I always looked forward to our correspondence. I don't care to talk on the phone, so he obliged me by writing. I felt as if we had a lot in common." He looked down at her. "He told me about you. He was very proud of you and the work you did. He said the pupil had exceeded the master in skill."

Charlotte shook her head. "Ricard was very modest, but he was the best in the world. If you wanted your carousel restored right, to the absolute glory it once had, you asked for him."

"Which is exactly why I did. His reputation was impeccable."

Charlotte stepped down into the sunken room. The basement extended throughout the length of the house. Although it was one large room, there were several half walls that made the space appear to be a giant maze. Carousel horses of every era dominated the room, but the half walls separated them by age. There was a work space with all kinds of tools and paints. Carving tools. Old paints made from leaves and flowers. Everything anyone loving carousels could possibly want or use.

Charlotte looked over her shoulder at Tariq. "You carve."

He shrugged. "I find it satisfies something in me I can't define. There's a kind of peace in carving. The wood shavings curling, the block of wood taking shape, the detail. I feel as though I can take an inanimate piece of wood and bring it to life. I like it." He sent her a self-deprecating grin. "I can't say I'm all that good at it, so don't examine mine too closely. But I like carving."

Charlotte loved the expression on his face. He was so handsome with his long, thick, very dark hair and his gemlike blue eyes. Gorgeous. All man. Sophisticated. Yet he would sit down in his base

ment, using his hands to create something beautiful. He really loved the carousels just as she did; she could hear it in his voice. She liked being able to breathe life back into them, and clearly he liked creating the life in them.