Longshadow

by Olivia Atwater

  Dora frowned distractedly. “I cannot say what all Lady Hollowvale has done,” she admitted. “But I am sure that if she is here, then it must be important enough for her to have left.”

  Abigail wanted to ask for more explanation—but Dora clearly had no further explanation to offer. She sighed instead. “I suppose I’ll be headed to Kensington Gardens again tonight, then,” Abigail said.

  Chapter 14

  Abigail spent the rest of the afternoon reading through her father’s library, in case there was some other magical antidote to be found there—but she still had not found anything useful by the time the sun had started trending downwards. She therefore set aside the books she had been searching through and started preparing herself to visit the gardens once again.

  Mercy had slept part of the afternoon away, herself, but she had eventually joined Abigail in the ballroom once again to assist with the research. Even as Abigail set aside the book she had been reading, Mercy reached out to pull it into her lap.

  “Are you not comin’ with me to the gardens?” Abigail asked Mercy.

  A flicker of uncertainty crossed Mercy’s pale features. “I hadn’t intended to join you,” Mercy admitted. “I don’t imagine Lady Hollowvale would be very happy to see me, since I’m carryin’ Longshadow with me.”

  Abigail clasped her hands nervously behind her back. “But you’ve been nothin’ but helpful,” she said. “I promise I’ll tell her as much. I just think you should meet her, is all.”

  Mercy blinked. “Why?” she asked. The question was sincere, and slightly baffled.

  Abigail twisted her hands behind her. It was very important to her that Mercy should meet her Other Mum—and it was furthermore very important to her that Lady Hollowvale should like Mercy. “I’d just… like to keep seein’ you when this is all over,” Abigail said to Mercy. “An’ that seems more likely if everyone in the family knows you. I’m sure you normally come an’ go from faerie very often. Maybe next time I go to Hollowvale, we could go together.”

  Mercy widened her eyes with alarm at this suggestion, and Abigail cringed. “Never mind,” Abigail said. “It isn’t necessary—”

  “I didn’t mean to upset you,” Mercy said hastily. “I just… I really don’t think we’ll get on, Abigail. Lady Hollowvale’s so notorious for not likin’ the sluagh, or anything to do with Longshadow. I can’t imagine her ever lettin’ me visit.”

  Abigail looked down at her feet. “We will still see each other when this is over, though?” she asked in a small voice.

  Mercy considered this question. As she did, Abigail saw many strange emotions flicker across her face in turn—so quickly that she couldn’t quite pick them apart. “I would like to see you,” Mercy said finally. “But I… well, dependin’ what happens, I don’t know if that’ll be possible. I don’t know how things will all fall out with Lord Longshadow an’ those bans, an’ the rest of your family.”

  Abigail bit at her lip. “You think… Lord Longshadow might stop you from visitin’ anymore?” she asked worriedly.

  Mercy shook her head. “No,” she said. “That’s not what I think. I just…” She sighed heavily. “It’s so complicated. I’ve thought more’n once I should try an’ explain it, but… you said there’s a time an’ a place for hard talks. An’ I guess that’s true. We have so much else to focus on, an’ I’ve already made things more difficult with Lucy. I don’t want to do somethin’ like that again by accident, when it could just as easily wait until we’ve saved everyone who needs savin’.”

  Abigail’s throat tightened with worry. “You have something bad to talk about, then,” she said quietly.

  Mercy winced. “I don’t know if it’s bad,” she replied. “It could be, I guess. But it’s my problem an’ not yours, an’ I don’t want to distract us.”

  Abigail didn’t mean to look heartbroken—but the idea that she might never see Mercy again once they were done felt abrupt and overwhelming. Abigail had only just figured out that she might like to kiss Mercy someday—and some small part of her had admittedly been trying to figure out how to make that more likely. But the way that Mercy now spoke made it seem as though Abigail might not even get to remain friends with her.

  Mercy must have seen something of Abigail’s distress on her face. Guilt curled at the corners of her mouth, and she set aside the book in her lap. “I… I guess I could come with you to the gardens,” Mercy said. “If you’re really sure that you want me there.”

  A ribbon of relief wound its way through Abigail’s chest. Mercy’s talk of later discussions still bothered her—but Abigail was sure that if her Other Mum took a liking to Mercy, then everything would be just a little more likely to turn out all right.

  “I do want you there,” Abigail assured Mercy softly. “I think you’re… well, you’re… I like you plenty, is all. An’ I’d like us to be friends.”

  Mercy parted her lips in surprise. The idea had caught her utterly off-guard. “You want to be friends?” she repeated.

  Abigail knitted her brow. “Is that bad?” she asked. The words came out slightly cross, and Mercy held her hands up quickly.

  “Not bad!” Mercy assured her. In fact, she looked deeply touched. A faint pink flush spread across her cheeks, and she glanced away from Abigail in embarrassment. “I like you plenty, too. I just never thought… well, you an’ your family have been awful kind to me, in spite of everything.”

  Mercy hesitated, trying to put words to thoughts. She struggled for a moment, before she said: “I’d like to be your friend, Abigail. I will be your friend, even if things fall out badly. An’ if you do want to see me, you can always come an’ visit Longshadow. I’d love to show you the lilies that grow silver there, an’ the hill where you can see all the way to the Other Side.”

  Abigail smiled. “I will come visit,” she said. “Now that you’ve made the invitation, you can’t take it back.” She offered her hand out to Mercy, to help her up to her feet. Abigail found herself savouring the way that Mercy’s long fingers curled around her hand. She dared to dream, just for an instant, that there would come a day when she kissed Mercy. Maybe it would be among the lilies in Longshadow, as they glimmered in the faerie moonlight.

  Oh, Abigail thought suddenly. I just imagined something.

  Mercy’s hand lingered in Abigail’s. They were standing very close now—and so, when Mercy glanced up at Abigail and gave her that sly smile, it was even more devastating than usual.

  “You look like someone hit you over the head just now,” Mercy observed. She sounded deeply amused.

  Abigail searched Mercy’s twilight eyes. “I imagined somethin’,” she said. “Somethin’ good. I saw it in my head for a second, clear as day. That doesn’t happen very often at all.”

  Mercy’s sly smile softened at that, and she squeezed Abigail’s hand. “Would you tell me about it?” she asked.

  Blood rushed swiftly to Abigail’s face. She had to look away from those dark, glimmering eyes. “Not right now,” Abigail mumbled self-consciously. “But… maybe someday.”

  Abigail imagined herself picking up that delicate dream, gingerly folding it up, and tucking it away within herself for safekeeping. It didn’t seem safe, somehow, to look at it for too long at once. But she knew that she would take that dream back out again—probably more than once—whenever she wanted to long for something nice.

  Abigail had expected Hugh to accompany her to see their Other Mum, since Abigail had his locket with her—but she was surprised when Dora also appeared downstairs, in her bonnet and her pelisse, and volunteered to come with them.

  “I don’t particularly need to speak with my other half,” Dora said, “but I would rather be there in case you find any other iron. I suspect that I will also need to impose upon the groundskeeper to let you out before dawn.”

  Lucy must have said something about going as well—but Mercy and Hugh both turned upon her at once, with an emphatic and resounding “No!”

  Had Abigail been able
to hear Lucy, she was sure she would have offered exactly the same reaction. Lady Hollowvale might have had half an English soul—but she had still grown up in faerie, and she could be quite wicked when she was of a mind. That Lady Hollowvale mostly directed her wickedness against cruel people did not much improve the situation; Lucy’s usual attitude was exactly the sort of thing which would normally stir her ire.

  Hugh flushed and floundered to explain the matter to Lucy in a gentle way. “Other Mum isn’t… she’s nice to us because she’s our Other Mum,” he said. “But she’s not obliged to be nice to you, an’ I don’t think she would be.”

  Abigail sidled up next to Mercy, smiling at her with faint amusement. “You haven’t even met our Other Mum yet,” she murmured. “You’re just as dead set as Hugh against introducin’ Lucy to her, though.”

  “I’ve met plenty of faeries,” Mercy muttered back. “The sluagh are positively patient, since they’ve got to be. But the way that Lucy talks, she’d get herself cursed or torn apart only five seconds after meetin’ most faeries.”

  Abigail sighed. “I almost want to see it,” she said ruefully. She turned back towards Hugh and Lucy and raised her voice to the empty air. “Other Mum is unpredictable, an’ she could hurt you even though you’re a ghost, Lucy,” Abigail said. “If you ever want a chance of comin’ back to life, you’d best stay here while we’re out. The House is one of the safest places in London, as long as you’re a welcomed guest.”

  Abigail couldn’t see or hear Lucy at the moment—but she knew that this was the proper thing to say. Lucy might have been petty and foolish at the best of times, but she was also understandably obsessed with coming back to life.

  Surely enough, Hugh relaxed in relief and reached up to pat the air where Lucy’s shoulder should have been. “We won’t be long,” he assured her.

  The four of them left the House, retracing the walk which they had taken only a few days ago. Abigail’s best muslin was beginning to look a bit sorry for a proper walk in Kensington Gardens, and Mercy still looked every bit the out-of-place laundress—but as they came closer to the gate, Mercy took Abigail’s arm, and the creeping shadows of the early evening swept over them, hiding them from view. Longshadow’s darkness was cool and pleasant against Abigail’s skin… but some part of her still recalled the seed of dark finality that lurked within it, and she shivered slightly against Mercy’s arm.

  “No wonder I keep findin’ you in places you ought not to be,” Abigail murmured to Mercy, as they slipped through the gate. “I’m not sure as anyone could stop you from goin’ where you please.”

  Mercy gave Abigail one of her sly smiles. Within the shade that covered them, that smile had a dark and dangerous edge—but the danger within it was still magnetic in a way that made Abigail’s heart twinge with excitement. Again, Abigail had the thought that the world and everything in it had been created merely to bow before Mercy when she was like this—all dark and deliciously haughty. Abigail, too, would have given much for the chance to reward that arrogant smirk with a kiss.

  But the enchantment of Mercy’s dark smile crested and passed like a wave, and Abigail regained control of herself before she could do something too foolish.

  Hugh still walked behind them, Abigail realised, following the tug of his locket; she was barely cognisant of him, in the shadow of Mercy’s presence. But Dora had paused herself at the gate behind them, speaking quietly with a man there. She had the posture of a woman who intended to remain right where she was.

  “I wonder if Other Mum left someone behind to keep an eye on the kids in Hollowvale,” Hugh muttered worriedly.

  The shadows fell away from Abigail and Mercy as they left the gate behind, and Abigail glanced behind them at Hugh. “Other Mum is a little flighty,” she said dubiously, “but I can’t see her leavin’ the other children in danger.”

  Hugh nodded uncertainly.

  Abigail led them slowly towards the Round Pond, since she knew that her Other Mum did enjoy the occasional dance. Again, she found herself passing other mortal couples on the Broad Walk, scurrying their way towards the exits—but Mercy held onto Abigail’s arm the entire time, and Abigail couldn’t help a small smile at the thought.

  As the sky darkened further and the human population of the gardens disappeared, however, Abigail became aware that Kensington Gardens had gone a bit too dark, too quickly. In fact, a familiar, cloying mist had started swirling about their feet as they approached the Round Pond.

  “Oh,” Abigail said.

  “Oh my,” Mercy murmured, with a hint of disapproval.

  Hugh looked at them both askance. “What is it?” he asked.

  Abigail waved a thread of wet mist away from her face. It curled around her hand, as though in greeting—and she felt an answering tug from within her soul.

  “Other Mum didn’t leave Hollowvale at all,” Abigail said. “I think she brought Hollowvale with her.”

  “Faerie realms don’t belong in England,” Mercy muttered distastefully. “This could be a real disaster.”

  Abigail shook her head. “Best we go find out what she has to say, then,” she said. “I’m sure Other Mum will leave an’ put Hollowvale back where it belongs once she’s said her piece.”

  The mist soon grew so thick that Abigail nearly stumbled straight into the Round Pond. Mercy caught her by the waist just before she could tumble in—and Abigail stared ahead in confusion.

  The shrill, piping flute music from a few nights ago was playing again—but the flowered faeries were not dancing upon the Round Pond this time. Instead, a young girl in a ruffled, highly embroidered white dress and a lacy blindfold was chasing two faerie ladies dressed like daisies across the surface of the water.

  “I’ll catch you!” the little girl shrieked. “Ooh, stay still!”

  One of the daisy faeries giggled—and the little girl lurched forward, throwing her arms out. She caught the faerie by the arm with a triumphant yell. “A daisy!” she yelled. “I’ve caught a daisy, haven’t I?”

  “I am caught!” the daisy acknowledged. “I shall be a blind flower next!”

  The little girl tore off the blindfold—but as she did, she caught sight of Abigail and blinked.

  “Abby!” she said, with a broad, partially toothless smile. “An’ Hugh, too! You’ve come to visit!”

  “Fanny,” Abigail said blankly. “You’re… here. An’ I can see you an’ everything.”

  Abigail looked out over the pond. It did not take much effort this time for her to imagine stepping onto the water as though it were solid ground—for Hollowvale welcomed her back with every step, assuring her that it would support her. A trickle of cool power flooded Abigail’s veins, and she released Mercy’s arm to stroll quickly across the water.

  At thirteen years old, Fanny was one of the older ghosts in Hollowvale, and she rarely let anyone forget it. Her brown hair was shorn nearly to her scalp—she had only just survived a fever in the workhouse before a faerie had finally killed her for good. Like Abigail, Fanny was a bit too skinny, and the physical impact of the workhouses showed on her blemished skin—but the faeries in Hollowvale had greatly enjoyed pampering her ever since Other Mum had taken over, and so Fanny was never seen now without a lovely gown.

  “Ah, more blind men!” the daisy observed cheerfully, as Abigail approached. “Will you be joining us tonight? I am about to take my turn.”

  Abigail blinked a few more times, trying to get her bearings. “I suppose I might eventually,” she said carefully. “But I’m here to see Other Mum—er, Lady Hollowvale. I suppose if all of Hollowvale is here, then she must be around somewhere.”

  “Oh yes, Mum’s about,” said Fanny. “She brought us all out to see the gardens—isn’t it grand? No one ever would’ve let me into Kensington when I was alive. An’ there’s all these other faeries about, as well. They barely know how to play Blind Man’s Bluff, but we’re teachin’ ‘em all the same.” So saying, Fanny handed the lacy blindfold off to the daisy, who pu
lled it over her eyes with bemusement.

  Mercy and Hugh caught up to Abigail then, and Hugh lit up as he saw the blindfold. “Ooh,” he said, “I want to play! There is room, isn’t there?”

  “The whole pond is playing,” the daisy replied helpfully, from behind her blindfold. “You mustn’t use magic if you join us, though—it spoils the fun.”

  “Of course,” Hugh said seriously. “I promise not to use any magic.”

  Fanny shot him a bemused grin and took him by the arm. But before they could start sneaking away, a man’s voice called out across the fog.

  “Fanny!” The voice was high-pitched and refined—and quite familiar. “You are not wandering too far, I hope! Remember that you must not leave the mist!”

  A tall, dark-haired man in a black velvet jacket soon appeared out of the murk. At first glance, he might easily have been mistaken for a human being—but any sort of closer look quickly dispelled that impression. His eyes were a bright, uncanny green; his cheekbones were far too sharp, and his ears were gently pointed at the ends.

  The green-eyed elf paused as he saw Abigail. They considered each other with a brief, puzzled silence.

  “Lord Blackthorn?” Abigail asked. “I thought you were bein’ a butler these days.”

  “Oh, it is Mr Jubilee now,” the elf reminded Abigail cheerfully. “I unbecame a lord years and years ago. But how kind of you to remember—I did secure a job as a butler! I was having great fun at it, but the lady of the house eventually grew tired of being cursed, and she begged me to leave—er, perhaps that is a story for another time. All of that is just to say: I have volunteered to be a governess tonight. I hope that I am doing a halfway proper job of it.”

  “You’re doin’ fine, Mr Jubilee,” Fanny informed the elf gravely.

  Mr Jubilee beamed with pride, and Abigail shook her head. “I’m shocked your wife let you out of her sight,” she said. “Is Effie here tonight?”