Soleil

by Jacqueline Garlick

  The burst of his voice causes me to find my own. “Eyelet?” I blurt, frightened. “Eyelet, can you hear me? Eyelet, please?”

  “Again,” the alchemist shouts.

  Iris lets out a whimper beside me. I crush her hand and call to Eyelet again.

  The alchemist’s head shifts side to side, as though he hears music we cannot hear. “That’s it. That’s it!” A smile curls his lips.

  “Eyelet?” I shout again.

  Gently, she stirs. Her finger lifts from the stone. I stare down at the movement, thinking it madness, thinking I’ve not seen what I saw.

  “Call to her, again!” the alchemist coaxes. Energy cracks and frizzles around him. I am both terrified and mesmerized.

  “Eyelet, if you can hear me, come back, please come back!”

  Eyelet flinches and my breath catches. Emotion clogs my throat.

  “All of you now,” the alchemist beckons. “Call to her. One at a time! Let her know how badly you need her. Demand that she come home!”

  “Eyelet?” C.L. says. “Can you hear us? Are you there?”

  “Eyelet,” Masheck leans closer. “It’s time to come back.”

  “Don’t you be goin’ nowhere’s without me, yuh understand?” Livinea lovingly strokes her hair. “You come on back ’ere, right now, yuh ‘ere me.”

  “That’s it! Keep it going!” I look at Iris, who’s standing next to me, trembling. “Keep calling her,” the alchemist coaxes, his robes swaying over the stones. “Each of you. In your own words!”

  Iris’s lips part. Her chin wobbles. Her mouth bobbles. Panic grows in her eyes.

  “Come on, come on. There’s isn’t much time.” The alchemist’s hands pick up speed, whirling in whip-like patterns above Eyelet’s head.

  Iris gasps. She gurgles. She nearly cries, struggling to make a sound—any sound. Tears push to the front of her darkening eyes. She can’t speak. I nearly blurt it out. She can’t do this.

  The alchemist floats about the room, chanting, his arms conducting an orchestra bloodsucking hoses and mechanical machines. Iris sputters then gurgles, what’s left of her tongue writhing against its limitations. “Hallujah duulaah leah…”

  Iris purses her lips and concentrates hard. Her eyes grow wide. She opens her mouth, stutters at first, then pushes out an inaudible squelching sound. I turn my head, and stares at her, her lips working to form the words...and then… she delivers them, stilted, slurred, but very distinct—

  “Eyelet. Come. Home. Please.”

  The alchemist’s chanting grows louder as all the rest of us gasp. He breaks into a string long, strange syllables. The room is abuzz with energy. Aether flows in snake-like ropes in circles around the room. Behind me the dome rattles and shakes. Electricity niggles my skin. A sudden bolt of energy surges, knocking each of us back. It tosses us onto our heels and drives our hands apart—severing the connection.

  We fall back, alarmed that we’ve let go, but the alchemist says nothing. Crackling energy continues to snake about the room as slowly, Eyelet rises, folding into a slow sit, her eyes still closed, her body limp. It is unclear how her bones are supporting her.

  The alchemist drops his hands to his sides and Eyelet suddenly jerks back.

  I lurch forward, ready to catch her, before her head strikes the stone. But there is no need. As quickly as she collapsed, she slows and unfolds, coming to a gentle rest on the stone.

  Blood courses through her veins again. Her skin shifts from greyish-blue to a soft marbled pink. The spidery-veins that once crept over her face, back at the square, begin to retreat. They seep from her body, onto the floor, draining from the back of her neck, out over the edges of the stone table. We jerk back to avoid them hitting our feet.

  Slowly, Eyelet’s eyes flutter open. Groggily, she speaks. “Where am I?” She attempts to lift her head then falls back again. She stares up at me, her eyes glisten like fresh-spun toffee.

  “Home,” I say, and dive forward kissing her, eyelids, nose, cheeks. “You’re home, darling. Back home with me.” I raise her to my chest, my heart a boisterous parade. I kiss her over and over, lost in her taste.

  She reaches up, and runs weak, shaky fingers through the sides of my hair—welcome food to the starved. “I was so afraid,” she whispers. “I thought I’d never see you again.” Her eyes glass over, she shivers, then she kisses me long and hard.

  It’s all I can do to keep from sobbing.

  “You were there with me, you know,” she whispers, drawing back. “In the other world, with me. But you were so far away from me. I couldn’t reach you. I tried, but I couldn’t.” Her eyes glaze over, again.

  “It’s all right.” I kiss her. “We’re here, together again. Everything’s going to be all right.”

  The others rush in.

  “You were all there, too.” She turns to each of them. “In Limpidious, with me.” She acknowledges each, C.L., Livinea, and Masheck. “It was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.” She gazes dreamily away, as if in her mind she has returned for the moment.

  “I was there. You were there.” She turns to C.L. “You were all there.” Her gaze makes a round of the room, landing on the alchemist. “Even you,” she says, in a quiet voice. “Only your cloak was black, not red.” She grimaces.

  I lower her gently back down to the stone, and rake the sweaty hair from her eyes.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” she says. She studies my sour expression. “You don’t believe me, do you? You don’t believe in what I’m saying.”

  “It’s not that, it’s just—” Old stirring of disbelief rises in my soul. I wrestle with her tale of magic, with all tales of magic. She scowls at my resistance. “You’ve had a very traumatic experience, Eyelet—”

  “No.” She shakes her head and attempts to sit up. “No. It happened.”

  “Rest, child. Rest.” The alchemist steps in. He pats her hand. “You mustn’t get yourself upset.”

  “I’m not upset,” Eyelet objects. “I know what I saw.”

  “Let’s just be thankful it’s all over with, shall we?” I squeeze her hand. “And you’ll never be sick like that, again.”

  “I’m afraid not,” the alchemist interrupts.

  “What?” I turn my head.

  “I’m afraid it’s not over with.”

  His voice is an unwelcome worm.

  “What do you mean? You just cured her. I saw you do it. We all saw you do it.” I turn to the rest.

  “What you saw is only a temporary solution,” the alchemist says. I gasp and fall back. “She will relapse,” he continues. “Her condition will worsen. Slowly but surely. The coughing, the blood, the weakness, it will all return. Unless she ingests the antidote her father left for her.”

  “How did you know—?”

  “Without it, she will return to her previous state. All that has been done today will come swiftly undone. And there will be no doing it again. She must ingest it before the symptoms begin again.”

  The alchemist’s words crash around inside my brain. The unthinkable rises to the top. “You mean—” I look for clarification trying to wrap my mind around what he’s said.

  “Death, yes, is eminent without it.”

  My gaze falls to Eyelet’s. Panic floods her eyes. “I must go and get it. I will leave immediately—” I stand.

  Eyelet hauls me back down by the arm. “No,” she says. “Not without me.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t possibly go.” I try to pull away, but she squeezes my arm harder.

  “With my dying breath I will not see us parted again, do you hear me?” Her words are sharp, her eyes determined.

  “But Eye—” She presses her finger to my lips. “Nothing you can say or do will change my mind. Either I make the journey with you, or it is not made at all.” She grits her teeth and sets her jaw. “This is my battle. I will not have you fight it for me.”

  I turn my eyes to the alchemist.

  “You heard the girl.” He folds his
arms. “Her will has taken her this far. I think it ill-advised to challenge it now.”

  “But—”

  He bows his head and stills my words with his hand.

  I look again to Eyelet. Her lips are tight. “I will not lie here in wait concerned for your safety, while you risk your life for mine.” She takes a shaky breath. “I’d rather go with you, drawing my last breath in your arms, should it come to that, before I’d wilfully allow us to be separated in this world again.”

  She stares into my eyes, tears sweeping her lashes, her voice a trembling drum.

  My heart breaks at the thought of giving in. I shall cease to exist if I lose her. I can think of no torture greater in the world, but her mind is set. And knowing Eyelet, no amount of my groveling will change that. “We’ll make the journey at first twilight, then, after you’ve rested.” I gently curl a rogue lock around her ear, looking to the alchemist for approval. He nods, and I fight to push the worry from my mind, lowering myself to kiss her again.

  “The journal.” Eyelet’s eyes bolt wide in the middle of the kiss. She flings me away. “Where is it? The journal?” She searches the bed with her hands.

  “What journal?”

  “Soleil? I was carrying when—” She looks up, her eyes dashed with fear. “Where is the book I had when I arrived at the square?”

  I vaguely remember. She was holding something red…a book pressed to her chest…when she arrived at the foot of the stage.

  “I don’t know,” I say.

  “There was no book found, mum.” C.L. steps up.

  “But there must have been. I had it with me.” Her body trembles.

  “Perhaps it’s still out there, Miss,” Livinea offers. “Left lyin’ in the grass.”

  Eyelet shoots a panicked look my way. “I have to have it. It must be found—” She tosses back the covers about to stand.

  “All right, all right.” I hold her back. “C.L., Livinea, why don’t the two of you go search for it, while Eyelet gets some rest.”

  “Good idea, sir.” C.L. says. “Don’t you worry, mum.” He assures her. He winks and pats her hand with his foot. “If there’s a journal to be found, we’ll find it.”

  Part Two

  Chapter Seven

  C.L.

  “SO WHAT DO YOU THINK?” Livinea loops her arm about my waist as we stroll through the mist.

  It’s a cool Brethren night and the winds are picking up. Strange for Brethren. It’s rarely windy here.

  “Now that Urlick’s the Ruler, do you think he and Eyelet will take up in the castle and become all hoity-toity, royal-like and stuff?” She bats her lashes in that luscious way she does. I swear this girl is like a stick of dynamite always ready to ignite.

  “Well, ‘e is the Ruler. ‘E does ‘ave to play the part.” I smile her way.

  She reaches over and pats my chest, lettin’ ‘er cool fingers linger there a little longer than they should. I’m still half-dazed by the concept she’s interested in me.

  In my mind, she’s a never-endin’ blaze.

  She pushes up closer, walkin’ her breasts nearer me chest. The sides of ‘em brush against me ribs. “I wonder when Urlick will make good on his promise?” She cocks ‘er ‘ead, criss-crossin’ ‘er feet, bumpin’ intentionally into the side of me.

  “What promise is that?” I stammer, almost unable to speak.

  “You know,” she shrugs, “the big one.”

  It surprises me she knows. She and Eyelet must have been sharing secrets. Though, honestly, I’m mostly amazed she remembers.

  “Oh, expect he’ll get around to it eventually.”

  “Eventually?” She stops dead. “I’d ‘ave thought it’d be foremost in his mind. Don’t tell me you’re of that camp.”

  “What camp is that?”

  “The love ‘em and leave ‘em camp.”

  “‘Oo said anything ‘bout that?” I give her a sorely offended look and she giggles.

  “You the Casanova type?” She spins around, walking backward on ‘er ‘eels like a girl.

  “I’m no rogue, if that’s what yer askin’.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad.” She swings around, striding ahead of me quick-gaited, glancin’ back over ‘er shoulder at me. “I like me a good Casanova.”She winks, whilst wearin’ a provocative grin.

  “In that case, I can certainly make an exception.” I puff out my chest and race to catch up with her.

  She laughs, and we jog up Dover Street and down the path to Piglingham Square, stoppin’ only when we reach the gate. She presses her back against the cold iron rails as I unlock it, writhin’ against the bars, her breasts risin’ and fallin’ distractin’ me. She giggles when I fumble and drop the lock.

  “You know,” she purrs, slinkin’ closer. “I’ve been waitin’ a long time to get alone with yoo.” She lets her hand fall to her chest, tracing her steep cleavage with a nail. I watch as she drags it the length of their curves, and shiver.

  My breath stiches a might. “You ‘ave,” I manage, though it sounds like I’m chewin’ marbles.

  “I ‘ave.” She arches her back again.

  “What for?” I say, stupidly. She couldn’t be makin’ it any clearer. I still can’t believe this jammiest bit of jam shows any interest in me. Why if this keeps up, I’ll be huggin’ the bear with ‘er sooner than I think.

  Come now, C.L., let’s not make a stuffed bird laugh. That’s completely preposterous thinkin’ and you know it.

  Livinea reaches out, snatchin’ me toward her, walkin’ ‘er nails slowly up me chest.

  Or not so preposterous? I gulp.

  Sweat breaks out on my brow, and she wipes it away.She nuzzles close, her breath fallin’ hot on me neck. “You like women, don’t you?” She stares into my eyes.

  “You can’t tell?” I say, acutely aware of where she’s leaning.

  She smiles and leans even closer.

  The fleeting thought that I should try to kiss her crosses me mind, but then I chastise meself, not wanting to be the one to compromise such a fine lady. Though it appears she’d like to be compromised. She writhes against me, making herself irresistible—if I ‘ad ‘ands they’d be all over ‘er—then she tilts ‘er ‘ead and parts ‘er lips as if to offer them up to me, and a slice of me panics. My heart is a bumbling gazelle. I mean, she did kiss me once before but that’s when I was… and she was... well, not exactly all there.

  But ‘ere, now, it’s completely different.

  She leans closer and I swallow hard, her breath like a hair tickling on me chin. Her eyes simmer like two jugs of midnight-blue ale, beckoning me to indulge in ‘em.

  I’m suddenly all a gigglemug.

  “Perhaps we should look for the journal?” I say.

  “Perhaps.” Her lips press ever closer. She drags ‘er ‘ands tenderly down the side of me face.

  “Or perhaps that could wait—”

  “Yeah, it could do.”

  She reaches up, threading her arms around me neck, her fingers fumblin’ through what’s left of me ‘air, and my body bulges with excitement. Her breasts are pushed so tight up against me, I can barely breathe. My pants ‘ave become gas-pipes.

  “Are you gonna finish this, or must I?” She looks at me, disappointed.

  “Oh, right, yes. Of course.” I duck toward ‘er, then pull back sharply. “You’re sure you want this? With me?”

  “Does it look like I’m expecting another?”

  “You’re not going to wake up in a moment and slap me face for accosting yuh.”

  Somethin’ giggles high up in the trees.

  Both our chins snap up.

  The ‘air on the back of me neck twitches in that odd way it does when somethin’ sinister is lurkin’. I get the same gasp-breathed feeling when I sense a criminal in the woods.

  “What was that?” Livinea blurts, and I clap a foot over her mouth. Her eyes bug wide over the top.

  I indicate for her to be silent and cock an ear. The wind is oddly active; I feel i
t in me blood.

  The bushes to the left rustle. I snap around, and Livinea sucks back a gasp. She clings to me now, shaking. Something dashes to our right—just a flash. A quick flick of air. A torrent of blurred white. I can’t make out what it is through the trolling fog. I jump to the left and take on my battle stance. The ‘airs on the back of me neck tug upwards.

  Through the top of the trees, I glimpse a swath of somethin’ greyish-white and ghoul-like, slinkin’ through the finger-like branches. Me adams apple bobbles in me throat.

  Livinea follows my gaze. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “I think we’ve got company.” I cock an ear to the trees and listen hard. Somethin’ solid rustles the leaves.

  “Company?” Livinea swallows, her eyes as big as lamps “The over-for-dinner kind, or the we’re-about-to-be-dinner kind?”

  The treetops flutter again. Black, grey, ashen, white, moon, sky. Cackles mingle with the wind. “Come on.” I grab Livinea by the arm, open the gate, and push ’er through.

  “Where we goin’?”

  “To ‘ave a quick look around, and then get outta ‘ere, as fast as we possibly can.”

  “But what about the journal? Ain’t we supposed to bring it back?”

  “We can’t very well do now, if we’re not ’ere.”

  Her eyes dart over the treetops as I steer her toward the stage. An eerie sensation of being watched crawls over me. We set to pokin’ and prodin’ around quickly.

  “I don’t see nuthin’.” Livinea swipes the hair from her brow, peeking out from behind the bushes she’s been searching through. She looks bedraggled and defeated, and more than a heap load concerned, her eyes never leaving the skies.

  “I don’t either,” I say, scanning the treetops myself.

  Since we’ve been ’ere, there’s been a solid rustlin’ around us. A whisper of distant voices, not quite discernable, but definitely there. We’ve both ’eard it, and felt the creep of somethin’ lurking deep in our bones. I keep an ever-wary eye on the tree canopy as we speak.