I begin to think I will like living here very much.
18
Ebony
The police arrive and, while the fire crew are fighting to save as much of my house as possible, a male and a female constable ask me dozens of exasperating questions. No, I did not see my parents this morning so, no, I don’t know if they left the house after I did, but they must have because they’re not here now, are they?
The questions keep coming. Many are expected, like do my parents smoke? Have there been strangers hanging around? And then there are questions I don’t expect, like do I get on with my parents? Had we argued in the last twenty-four hours? Were we on the verge of bankruptcy? Does Dad gamble? What insurance policies do my parents have? How much do I stand to inherit?
‘We will be checking,’ the dark-haired female officer declares, tapping her pen on her notebook and looking me straight in the eye.
I look her straight back. ‘I don’t know who benefits, but I think it’s safe to assume, considering I’m their only child, the beneficiary would be me, unless Dad wanted to leave everything to the horses.’ Standing close behind me, Amber snorts with laughter.
Unbelievably, the questions become even more intrusive. They want to know if my parents still love each other, if they’re still intimate (as if I would know!). Standing beside me, Mr Lang notices my accelerating agitation, no doubt from the steam starting to hiss from my ears.
‘For your own safety, officers, that better be it for today.’
They close their notebooks and go to talk to the fire chief.
Mr Lang asks, ‘Is there someone I can call for you, Ebony?’
I shake my head. There are relatives in London on Mum’s side, but she’s only mentioned them once and I don’t even remember their names.
Dawn comes over after talking to the lead fire fighter. She walks straight up to me and pulls me into her arms. ‘You poor girl, you’re coming with us. Our home is your home for as long you need or want it.’ She pulls back to look into my eyes. ‘Do you understand what I’m saying, Ebony?’
The kindness in Mrs Lang’s eyes, golden-brown like her children’s, is exactly what I need right now.
‘Can Mum and Dad stay too?’
She hesitates, as if I caught her off guard.
‘It won’t be long before we’re back on our feet. Please?’
‘Of course they can!’
‘They’ll turn up soon,’ I reassure her.
Death is final; the returning of one’s body to the earth so the atoms that make us can be recycled back into the universe to start again. It’s simple and beautiful, but I can’t consider that concept for Mum and Dad. How can it be possible for two people to be here one moment and gone the next?
When Dad sees what’s happened, he’ll want to bunk down in the barn near his horses, but Mum will insist on a motel. I won’t care. As long as we’re together, I’ll sleep under the stars.
Taking my arm Mrs Lang leads me to their four-wheel drive. ‘Why don’t we head over now for a strong cup of tea.’ At my hesitation she adds, ‘We can wait for news there, Ebony.’
‘But the horses?’ I glance down to the barn where Pandora remains tethered to the outer-yard gatepost, and my chest fills with the need to run to Shadow and bury my head in his striking white mane.
Amber puts her arm around me, coaxing me inside the SUV. ‘The horses will be fine.’
Mr Lang says, ‘I’ll have my foreman help me bring them to our place right away. We have enough spare stalls. OK with you, Ebony?’
I nod. ‘Thank you, Mr Lang.’
‘You need to be with friends at this time, Ebony. You know we’re here for you.’ Across the front seat he exchanges a worried glance with his wife.
I look away from them to the house and watch as more of my home burns away. It’s starting to feel surreal, like it’s happening to someone else. But it is happening to me. That’s my life the fire fighters are pouring water over while all I do is watch. I’ve never felt more helpless. My eyes burn with the effort not to cry, but I force the tears away because now is not a time to fall apart.
Later, in Amber’s bathroom, I take a shower and stand still under the hot spray. The surreal feeling intensifies to the point where, if I close my eyes, I can imagine this is all a horrible dream.
A persistent knock on the door dismisses this illusion.
‘Are you OK in there?’ Amber pokes her head around the bathroom door. When I don’t answer, she comes in, turns the taps off and holds out a robe. I step into it with mechanical movements, wondering dazedly what is happening to me.
Standing in the centre of Amber’s bedroom I keep still while she wraps my hair in a towel, twisting it around my head. She then pats me dry, but when her hands near my shoulders I ensure she bypasses the patches of rough skin that have recently grown into strange little bumps there. I’ve been thinking I should probably see a doctor about them, but that will have to wait now.
Amber lays clothes out on her bed for me – a white T-shirt, a denim skirt, some underwear, socks and a pair of tan ankle boots. It occurs to me that I have no clothes of my own, not even a pair of socks or pants.
‘You can use any of my clothes.’ Amber tries to keep her voice light. ‘Just think how much fun it’ll be buying a whole new wardrobe.’ She gasps. ‘I’m sorry, hon, I didn’t mean … It won’t be fun at all.’
I blink slowly to assure her I’m not offended.
While I dress myself, Amber makes up the guest bed across the room. I’ve stayed in it before. It’s a comforting thought in a day of trauma. Part of me wants to climb in it now, draw the curtains and turn off the lights.
When she returns, Amber leads me to the mirror on her wardrobe door. We stand side by side staring at our reflections. After a minute our eyes meet in the mirror. She’s trying not to laugh. The T-shirt is too short, too clingy and gives me cleavage I had no idea I had, while her denim skirt, knee-length on her is a miniskirt on me.
‘At least the boots fit,’ she says, and begins to giggle.
I tug the T-shirt up to reduce the cleavage, but exposing so much midriff makes me look like a tramp.
We burst out laughing.
‘When did you grow those boobs?’ She shakes her head. ‘And those legs! No wonder the boys at school haven’t been able to take their eyes off you lately.’
‘What are you talking about? What boys?’
‘Let’s start with Jordan Blake, and move on to the rest of the grade!’
I laugh so hard at her ridiculous statement tears roll down my face and I have to sit on the edge of her bed and clutch my stomach. At some point, the laughter changes into weeping, and then raking sobs.
Amber sits beside me passing me tissues, one after another. When I finally stop crying, my mind is clearer.
‘Do you think they’ve turned up yet?’
She looks directly at me so I understand she’s not hiding anything. ‘Someone will let us know as soon as that happens. Ebony, everyone in the valley loves you.’
I close my eyes, and Mum and Dad are right there. ‘Do you think it’s safe to go back to the house yet?’
‘Probably tomorrow.’
Unable to stop the momentum building inside me, I run over to her wardrobe and fish through hangers until I find a coat to throw over my too-small outfit. ‘Amber, I’m going to search for my parents.’
‘Wait!’ She lunges as I head out the door, grabbing my arm. ‘Ebony, how?’
‘I don’t know yet, but I have to do something to find them.’
‘But, Eb …’ Something in my face stops her from finishing whatever she’s on the verge of saying. Instead, she runs over to her desk, collects a notebook and pen and walks out the door with me, uttering, ‘We’ll find your parents together.’
And I know then I have the best best friend in the world.
19
Ebony
Amber rings every local institution from medical to recreational in Cedar Oakes, even the café
s in town that open for breakfast on a Sunday, on the off chance someone swung by and took my parents out.
But Cedar Oakes isn’t a big town and it doesn’t take long to run out of possibilities.
Needing air, and needing to be alone, I run down to the stables and tell Shadow everything, keeping my hand on the steadying thud of his heart. When I’m spent, I pull up a stool and sit. Occasionally I get up and take a brush to his shiny white coat, but mostly I just rest my head on his warm belly. He keeps still for me, except for the occasional glance to reassure himself that I’m all right. He knows. He understands something life-altering has happened.
Eventually Dawn and Reuben Lang come down and talk me into returning to the house. ‘You should get some rest, Ebony,’ Dawn coaxes. ‘It’s almost midnight.’
I glance up at them both. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t realise it was so late.’
They walk on either side of me back up to the house, where Amber is already asleep in her bed.
‘I’ll sit with you,’ Dawn volunteers sweetly.
‘I’ll be fine, I promise. I’m really tired. Please go to bed.’
She leaves, but only when Reuben pulls her away.
It’s now well after midnight, all of the Lang family are sleeping, and I’m lying in bed with my eyes wide open.
Amber is snoring lightly across the other side of the room. Because she’s aware of my inability to sleep in deep darkness, tonight being one of those starless, moonless nights with a storm in the air, a dull floor lamp is on.
I don’t want to do anything to wake her, and yet I can’t lie here a moment longer or I’ll go crazy.
I get up and go to the window that looks east to the Mount Bungarra range.
The ridge is getting a real beating tonight, especially on the less populated, northern end where it’s mostly forest. A bolt of horizontal lightning splits into five fingers, one of which slams into the ground, probably hitting a tree and setting it alight. At least the pouring rain will douse any fires that occur up there tonight.
If Amber was watching, she wouldn’t see or hear quite so much, and I wonder if there are others with eyesight and hearing as sharp as mine. Normally I would mull over this thought for hours, but not tonight.
Unlocking the window, I slide the lower frame up halfway. The air is still, cold and moist. For some inexplicable reason I have the jitters for the people living on the mountain tonight. It’s a vicious storm. Thunder pursues lightning in a tremendous rumbling stampede across the ridge. It’s a disturbing display of nature’s awesome power. I don’t like storms. They frighten me, especially those that sweep in under the cover of darkness as if they have something to hide. On stormy nights Mum would always bring me a cup of hot chocolate, even if it was two in the morning. She knew that the first clap of thunder would wake me.
Where are you, Mum? Where can you possibly be?
I close the window and go back to bed. I really need to switch off, give my mind a break from this mayhem. Eventually I feel myself drifting. My eyes close and I slip into a dream where I’m wearing a long strapless gown, cinched above the waist to fall in layers of ivory silk and organza. My hair tumbles down my back and I sense the flowing dress and hair pleases someone, but the identity of this person isn’t clear.
In my dream it’s a dark night, lit by the soft light of a crimson moon. The field I’m running through is bathed in warm pink light. The grass itself, high as my fingertips, glistens with amber light when my fingers part the fronds. Curious, I raise my hand in front of my face. Light emanates from my entire arm, and I gasp.
It’s the sound of my voice that brings him into the field. He stands watching me from the edge. Skin-tight black clothes cover a magnificent physique. Green eyes, full red lips, and hair the colour of brown sugar frames his head and shoulders.
The dream takes a curious turn when this man suddenly leaps into the air with the athleticism of a ballet dancer. Four black velvety wings emerge from his shoulders, shifting the air around him in pulsating waves, and in perfect sync with one another.
His movements, so graceful, mesmerise me. Knowing this, the winged man performs an eloquent airborne dance, drawing closer each time he circles around me until he finally touches down soundlessly at my back, so close I feel the heat from his body permeate mine. So warm it almost burnt.
He leans over me and I sense his supreme intelligence. It’s a strange thought, but somehow I know it’s true. This man is smarter than anyone I know, and this frightens me.
He slides an arm around my waist and sniffs me as if I am some sort of delectable prey. I instinctively stiffen and attempt to pull away, but quickly realise that to try anything against this man’s wishes is pointless. I begin to tremble.
He spins me around to face him in a movement that feels as if I’m revolving on air, and I find myself gazing into his vivid green eyes, so intense yet fathomless and empty inside they shock me.
Repositioning his wings effortlessly at his back, he strokes my hair without quite touching it. His slender fingers, with unusually long nails, appear to tremble with his effort to be gentle. Confusion reigns inside me. Who is this man who is so strangely, perfectly beautiful? And why does he appear enamoured of me?
Ahh, but my heart tells me there is no love, only lust, in this strange creature.
He starts a conversation without speaking aloud; his voice simply appearing inside my head so that not only can I hear his words but I can see them and feel them as well. His voice resonates, low and rasping, sexy.
Child, your time of maturity nears. Soon a messenger will approach you. Do not fight him. He is my trusted lieutenant on Earth and he will keep you safe.
Safe from what? Who are you? How will I recognise this man?
You will know him by looking in his eyes.
I’m sorry, but that’s impossible.
You have the gift.
I shake my head. My hair brushes against him and he breathes in sharply.
I don’t know what you’re talking about, I tell him, wishing only that I could wake up.
Look, he says, into my eyes.
I look, and suddenly feel as if I’m standing on the edge of a precipice of unfathomable depth.
Well? he prompts. What do you see?
Nothing. And … everything.
He laughs. See?
But my confusion only grows, and I shake my head. See what?
Who I am, who you are, and who we will be together.
I don’t see that.
Then you are not looking deep enough.
If I do what you say, I’ll fall.
I won’t let you fall.
I think you’re evil. I don’t know where this thought comes from; it simply appears in my head with the same unconsciousness as blinking.
But his smile only widens; and for the first time his lips part and reveal perfect white teeth to match his perfectly chiselled face. Waves of his energy, strangely both beautiful and ugly, flow into me. I shudder and he says, I’m building you a palace. It nears completion and when ready will contain the comforts to befit a queen.
Pardon me?
Don’t be afraid. You have nothing to fear from me, my young queen.
The lust in his eyes says differently. If he could, I think he would devour me, piece by piece, finger by finger. And yet, there is something about him, something distracting and disturbing and strangely … fascinating.
When my lieutenant comes for you, go with him willingly, and for this you will be rewarded.
Instinctively I answer, No, I don’t think that’s going to happen.
A grumbling from deep inside him sounds oddly like a beast growling. He stiffens; whether because I heard it, or at himself for not suppressing it in my presence, I don’t know.
So clever, he murmurs as he runs his fingers along the edge of my face. I flinch at his hot touch and shudder. He fades into the night with a look of longing, his green eyes the last to disappear.
And though I feel calmer now tha
t he’s gone, I can’t stop shaking.
To my relief it’s Amber who’s trying to wake me. When I open my eyes, her distraught face is close to mine. Seeing I’m awake, she releases my shoulders and sets me back to check me out, ensure herself I’m OK. ‘I couldn’t wake you! I didn’t know what to think. I was about to scream out for Mum and Dad!’
She reaches out and switches my bedside lamp on before sitting back on my bed with her legs crossed, frowning. ‘That must have been some nightmare. Do you want to talk about it?’
I’m not sure how to answer Amber. It was definitely a nightmare, but mixed in were intriguing portions, like the impressive-looking guy, his striking face, his wings, and the flying.
‘You’ve had the worst day imaginable. I’m not surprised you had a nightmare. Nightmares are just dreams, and dreams are not real,’ she says. ‘At least by morning it should be nothing but a fading memory. You wait and see.’
She sighs, leans forward and takes my hands. ‘And since we’re wide awake, let’s go raid the kitchen.’
20
Jordan
I wake to the sound of a knock, in a room that doesn’t look one bit familiar. It’s obviously very early since the sun’s rays are only just beginning to skim the valley with light. I blink hard to shift the sleep from my eyes. I’m in my new flashy bedroom in Thane’s amazing glass house inside the grounds of a monastery.
My stomach grumbles. The mountain air makes me hungry. I could eat a horse, except it’s too early to get up yet.
Another, louder knock has me reaching for my phone at the same time as Thane pokes his head inside my room. I jump in before he says anything. ‘You gotta be joking, dude. It’s barely half past five!’
He smiles. ‘It’s going to be a big day and I thought you might like a hearty breakfast before we begin.’
I point out the window. ‘I don’t count the day as started until the big yellow ball in the sky is actually in the sky.’