“What game?” Quinn yelled to thin air. “Is that what the problem is here? I’m playing some stupid game and I don’t even know it? Because that could explain a lot.”
“It is only a game, Quinn…the rest is future.”
Quinn flipped. “Just go away and leave me alone. I was fine before all of this. I’ve had enough, I’m going home. Every wacko thing in this place speaks in nonsense. Upside down bleeding nonsense.”
He got to his feet and was allowed to haul Daisy to standing; she would not walk however. There was no way he could strap packs to her, and no way he could carry them himself, they were too clumsy. They’d have to be left behind.
He was even allowed to pull out the water bottle, the food and some extra cloth for Daisy’s hoof, stow them in his pockets and prepare to pitch off through the dark forest. But at the point where he was about to do just that, the cold crept on the back of his neck, something snagged his jacket and he was yanked back to the ground. A twig snapped and he found it crunched up in his hood. He was sat under a rowan tree. The bright red-orange berries looked toxic.
“Why,” he said. “Literally why.”
“We are dryads…every tree has a spirit. You can’t run away, Quinn…you are in a forest full of trees…”
“Fine then. I won’t.” He felt deeply insecure now. Was there anything around here that wasn’t alive, that didn’t think for itself, didn’t have the temerity to interrupt even your thoughts?
“We are here to help you…we will guide you to where you wish to go. But if you are so hasty then your companion will die. We are here to help her, too.”
“What, Daisy?” Quinn asked, horrified.
“Blood is sought after, in these places,” the chill swept around his ankles and the rowan tree dropped a leaf into Quinn’s hands.
“We will show you the cure. We will show you the way.”
***
When Lilian reached the edge of the forest, she was doused with a metaphorical bucket of perspective. And there was really nothing she wanted perspective on less. It was evening; it was just about the time Lucerna would have a meeting in the Hall…only Lilian had no idea what day it was.
She trod the familiar path towards the town, every step a study in surrealism; the place looked so much as it always did, yet it was alien to her now. She went slowly, hesitantly; uncertain about everything all of a sudden. What would she do, if there was no meeting? What was she expecting as a result? Where would she go? She didn’t have anywhere to live other than Lucerna’s house. And that didn’t really seem like an option anymore.
Her mind drifted, as it had a habit of doing when deprived of sleep, food, water and everything else civilized. She thought of dreams, how this had all happened in the first place…could you really understand anything useful from them at all? People placed such value on their meanings, yet her own eighteen year history of dull, nondescript nightmares didn’t mean much to Lilian whatsoever. Apart from that she’d had a very dull, nondescript life. And now that it was getting all interesting, it was also getting very uncomfortable and scary.
You can’t win, she thought. Not with anything – with life, with people. You might seem to win an argument, but were they really persuaded or was it just easier to agree? What if you made their life a misery? Was that winning?
She thought of Quinn then, and laughed. It had just occurred to her that he was a total hypocrite. “It’s alright for you, with your unicorn friend,” he had said. She could have equally said, “It’s alright for you, with your horse friend.” Besides, Quinn now had a horse, and Lilian didn’t have a unicorn. She was absolutely alone. She really couldn’t get herself to feel resentful though; there was no energy to spare for self-pity, and no time to worry about it. And no point either. It wasn’t like she could help anything by being apathetic…
And so she was reminded of why she was here and what she was doing.
She tried to throw together some kind of plan in her mind, but although it occupied her very successfully until she reached the Hall, the whole thing was forgotten as soon as she had to step inside.
The flickering torch was outside, denoting that there was a meeting happening. They could have used LED lights, but that might not have the same dramatic effect, Lilian supposed. It was odd how stupid thoughts like that occurred to people in situations that called for clear-headedness.
She opened the door, saw it was full of people, and had to exercise enormous self-discipline to stop herself running away and hiding.
It was too late now.
Lucerna stopped whatever she was saying to see who had appeared. Her expression, though fleeting, was enough to make everyone else turn to see as well.
Help, Lilian thought in a panic. Something tickled around her wrist in her sleeve. She scratched at it, an itchy nerve brought on by stress.
And then the glowing began again.
Lilian blinked in astonishment. She tried not to stare at everyone, fascinated by the light shining off them. Fascinated particularly because it blatantly reflected the way they were sitting, thinking, living…even Lucerna. Lucerna’s light was a sickly off-yellow colour, and it even had gaps in places.
Lilian wondered then if Quinn was here, if he’d got back before her. That might mess up everything. She discreetly glanced around and couldn’t see him. Good, she thought. One down, lots to go. Obstacles. They were rife.
Lucerna peered at Lilian as though she was contagious. Lilian began speaking and didn’t even know what she was going to say. Somehow all her frenzied planning must have gone over all the unviable options so that she was only left with the right things to say.
“Priestess Lucerna,” she began solemnly. “I beg your forgiveness for leaving your service without notice. The Deus talked to me in a dream, a vision; I went into the forest as I was advised in my dream, and there found Quinn, the boy you sent, had killed the unicorn and took it’s horn – but he is terribly injured and will take much longer to return. His horse was killed and he asked me to bring back the unicorn horn for you, in case he did not get back in time. However, the Deus was in triumph over the death of the unicorn, and gave me a sign, in accordance with my dream, that he is pleased and no more deaths need occur.”
For a second, there was a shot of relief and a weight off her shoulders; then the doubt crawled into the silence.
She peeked at Lucerna’s face – a look of confusion, dissatisfaction – fear? Lilian couldn’t tell. The quiet of the congregation built into a wall of white noise, and just when Lilian thought she couldn’t stand it anymore, Lucerna said, “I see.”
Lilian analysed the words, the tone, the timing, trying to glean a clue as to what it could mean beyond –
“How lucky you are, to have had the Deus speak to you,” Lucerna added with just the faintest smirk of curiosity. Only her eyes betrayed her – filled with anxiety, nervousness; dark circles – exhaustion. And of course that jaundiced glow all around her.
Lilian found she had the perfect answer. How to turn nonsense into common sense, she thought.
“Oh, the – ahem – Deus, speaks to us all, for we are all free to choose, what we believe, what we do, as long as we treat everyone as equal and respect everything in this beautiful world. We are all people, and we do not need to pay for our existence. We do not need to pay to live our lives.”
This is not me talking, surely, Lilian remarked inwardly. I don’t say clever things like that.
“Yes, indeed,” Lucerna broke in. “No more money shall be paid. We will show our devotion in other ways. Now where is the unicorn horn?”
Lilian was for some reason shocked by how easily Lucerna had twisted her words. She hesitated, not sure what she could possibly say to justify not having brought the…
“It is wrapped in this cloth,” Lilian lied. She brought out one of the napkins and hoped beyond hope that Lucerna would never recognize it as stolen from her own kitchen. “The – the thing is,” Lilian improvised, “it’s invisible. As s
oon as it was detached from the unicorn it - it began to fade. Now it is so depleted it has all but disappeared. I give it to you and hope that – that you will not be disappointed.”
Lucerna looked at Lilian with deep suspicion, but took the carefully folded napkin with a triumphant delicacy and unwrapped it slightly, peering between the crumples of cloth.
“Invisible…” she said, apparently to herself. Lilian quailed inwardly. Surely this would never work…surely it would be – quite literally – seen through…
Lucerna held up the empty napkin and announced, “Centuries ago, the unicorn disobeyed the Deus and hid in the forest. Let this be a lesson to you all, of what should happen to you if you stray from the order.”
Lilian felt a knot of unease untie and then retie itself in her stomach. Miraculously Lucerna had been convinced, or was pretending to be for the moment; but this was not going right at all. And Lilian was foggy headed and exhausted, not up to this task one bit. Why did the difficult things always happen when you were already dog-tired?
Lucerna placed the napkin beneath the painted eye. Lilian noticed the bloodstains were still on the floor.
“Now that brings this meeting to an end,” decreed Lucerna. When all of them had left, Lucerna stopped Lilian at the door. “You will be very welcome to return to your duties as my housekeeper, Lilian,” she said sharply, with a subtle, glitteringly sickening grin. It matched the sudden influx of dull, toxic pink that had infused the grubby yellow of the light around her.
Lilian wanted to say no, so badly, so much…yet somehow she found herself replying, “you are very kind, Priestess. You are very kind, Miss Lucerna. I should be…glad to.”
She forced a smile which ended up more like baring her teeth and squeezing her eyes together.
***
The last thing Lilian wanted to do was go back into that hateful house. But she changed into the stupid cream tunic things, and carried on without a word. Lucerna couldn’t clean a damn thing, she thought, sweeping the kitchen floor. How had she contrived to make it so filthy? And she had obviously taken a liking to Chardonnay. Did it go well with toast? Because that was all Lucerna seemed to have eaten for two weeks, according to what was left in the cupboards. She opened the annoying one that had to be hauled on with at least fourteen Newtons of pressure before it would open, and noticed for the first time that there was a box of matches tucked away on the middle shelf.
After the recent escapade, Lilian had decided that matches were a useful thing to have all the time. Not that she thought she’d get away with escaping again. She felt panicky as she thought of it. What am I going to do? She thought. Then she heard footsteps on the stairs.
She found a brush and began sweeping the crumbs off of the sideboard. She heard Lucerna pass by the doorway and looked down to prevent catching the priestess’ attention. Then Lilian froze – the bristles of the brush had somehow left a pattern in the breadcrumbs. Or she was insane. Letters that unmistakeably spelt out just wait.
I’m going mad, thought Lilian, and brushed them aside before Lucerna could see.
***
Quinn coaxed Daisy down the last hundred yards of the main forest path that led to the road and then to the town and the posh bit on the edge where he had to live. As he went, he reflected on how delirious he had been for such a long time. He had been convinced that there were giant talking butterflies, unicorns, trees that had personalities, and places in the forest where the sky reached the ground.
He had even managed to convince himself that strapping leaves and spider webs on to Daisy’s hoof had made it mend much faster, that a girl had rescued him from a river and that what he had in his pocket was a unicorn horn.
And now he was back, and had to return to the tyrannical tedium of day-to-day ‘life’. In this place he was so fond of. Yes, it was a nice house, but he only had one room in it and the others might as well be occupied by rabid Chihuahuas that could talk (very loudly) for all the good it did.
It was an uptight, no-mud-on-the-carpet sort of neighbourhood, and the neighbours themselves were all determined to make sure you didn’t forget about them, however much they hated you. Quinn hadn’t forgotten them, unfortunately, but he was rapidly realizing how civilized the forest had been by comparison. He realized it as he went past tall hedges with watchful eyes peering through them; he realized it as a snooty dog walker pretended not to notice him.
When he had, after much necessary deliberation, got Daisy back to her stable and seen to all her needs, he went to the house with a sense of foreboding. As predicted, he was greeted with shocked contempt. Why had it taken him so long? What had he done to his horse? Why had he let himself get injured? Why wasn’t he injured? What did he know of the housekeeper girl?
The onslaught of questions was enough to make him desperate to fall asleep and never wake up, never mind that he’d felt like that already. He tried to explain; he persevered; he was failing miserably. He wondered when he’d got it in his head that these people were worth listening to anyway. Or worth explaining to. I can’t be bothered, he thought vaguely.
“Forget it,” he said. “You never cared about me, I’m a failure remember? Why would you give a feck about this either? I want to sleep. Leave me alone.” he’d never dared to be so dismissive before.
He pushed past his parents, snatched a few edible things from the kitchen and stomped up two flights of stairs to his room. On the way, the sound of a screaming baby, it’s nanny saying calming things with determined futility, and Quinn’s two younger brothers arguing with each other reminded him that he hadn’t been exaggerating when he had thought of them as rabid Chihuahuas. Once inside, he elbowed the door shut and collapsed on the floor. He was exhausted. Then he noticed he was actually unbearably hungry. He grabbed whatever he’d picked up from the kitchen and ate it. It was bread, he thought, identifying it at last. And cheese. What a marvellous subconscious sense of culinary taste he had. Cheese. Cheese was incredible. So was bread. Pumpkin and sunflower seed cakes had become terrifically monochrome on the journey back. He would be almost tearful if he even had to look at one ever again. Bread. Cheese. It was beautiful. It was gone, and he was hungry still, but now he was too, too tired. He snatched a cushion from somewhere, threw it on the floor and fell asleep right where he was.
Chapter 8
It was, for a week, as though nothing had happened. As though they’d never been in the forest; as though Lilian had never left her post. Almost…if she hadn’t been thinking, thinking, thinking. And finally the next meeting at the hall was due, and Lilian got sick just the day before.
She rubbed coal dust under her eyes to give herself dark circles. She splashed hot water in her eyes to make them look red. She ate spice to make her nose run. She was slow in her work and went to the bathroom a lot. The next morning, she didn’t get out of bed. When Lucerna realized, she went to see Lilian. Lilian really did look rather awful. What she might have picked up in the forest, Lucerna didn’t want to think about. Neither did she want it herself. So she grudgingly left the girl some water and oatcakes and ignored her.
Later, she had to bring her a bucket. Lilian managed some convincing throwing up sounds. Lucerna knew it would be time to go for the meeting soon; she didn’t feel very worried about leaving Lilian here by herself. The girl couldn’t escape the room, let alone the house. Not unless she took the bucket with her.
Lucerna left for the meeting on her own.
As soon as she heard the door shut, Lilian leapt up, attacked the oatcakes with the kind of voracity impossible if she really had been repeatedly being sick all day, downed all the water and changed into the clothes she’d worn into the forest. She’d washed and dried them straightaway and they were good as new.
Then she hurried down into the kitchen, and ferreted out the box of matches she had spied. She took a deep breath and told herself she wasn’t about to do what she was about to do.
She went to Lucerna’s study.
She struck a match
.
Her heartbeat drubbed through her left shoulder as she watched the little blue flame flare. It grew into a yellow spiral and she placed it between the pages of Lucerna’s horrible book. The painted eye squinted at Lilian as it took hold of the binding, and curled and distorted as Lilian threw a second match into a pile of papers.
The room was full of wood furniture.
Lilian stumbled away, choking on her own fright and disbelief at what she was doing, clumsily striking more matches and hurling them into rooms as she went past. She couldn’t think of anything. Her mind was serenely blank. Pockets of fire gleamed around her and she could only observe with a detached thrill.
Lilian had her hand on the front door when she realized that it was locked.
Horror screeched through her. She moved into the kitchen, and over to the window. On to the sideboard. She slipped and smacked her shin hard against the edge. She was just a mechanical creature, empty, taking the next necessary action because it had to happen.
She grabbed a convenient bottle of Chardonnay and smashed it through the panes of glass, eyes shut tight. She grabbed anything, kicked with her feet, until there was a gap big enough that she wouldn’t be torn to pieces escaping. Splinters of jewel-like glass stung her skin as she threw herself on to the flowerbed outside and for a split second the scent of living soil was heavenly.
Then she scrabbled to her feet and ran, down the drive, ran, ran. The heavy wood smoke filled the air; most of Lucerna’s house was lined with some of the finest money could buy. It smelled like a huge cinnamony bonfire.
She raced, now actually wanting to be sick, down the road and across the pathways through the fields. At last she turned and looked back; watched, mesmerized. After a short time or a long time, Lilian had no judgement, mini golden suns flooded over the roof – the whole building…
Burn, she thought. “Burn, burn,” she said fiercely, breathlessly.
The grey sky was darkening, sped up by the arrival of a turbulent looking storm cloud that would explain why the air had been so thick all day.
The fire crawled over the house like a fearsome creature devouring its prey. Suddenly Lilian saw that her power had taken over Lucerna’s, for the first time ever. For a moment she felt a rush of relief and vindication and satisfaction. But then she questioned if that made her any better than Lucerna.