The Shadow: The Poisonwood Shadows Book One

by Christina Crook

  William remained standing in front of her, almost pitifully, then stared down guiltily at the bloody stain, which had now faded to a pinkish brown colour.

  “How is your head anyway?” She asked. She went to touch the bandage.

  He shrugged. “It feels okay. It still hurts, but not as much.”

  “Do you want some breakfast?”

  William nodded slowly, his mind clearly elsewhere.

  “Okay. Well, I’ll go down now. You get back in bed." She smiled and waited for him to move.

  William retired to the back room, while Scarlett washed and dressed, before heading down to prepare breakfast. When she returned, she found him curled up in Winifred’s old chair, already deeply involved in one of her books. She set the food down on a table beside him, steam rising up from both the bowl and the tea.

  “Do you mind if I join you?” She asked.

  William looked up at her. “Of course not. You don’t have to ask me that.” He shook his head slightly, a smile playing upon his lips.

  “I’m not sure if your rules still apply,” Scarlett explained.

  “Oh. Well, me neither. Who knows?”

  She drew up another chair and pulled her own bowl of porridge into her lap. "So how are you feeling really?”

  “Still weak. My head hurts. All of me hurts in fact. I’ve never felt this vulnerable before. Ever,” he confessed.

  “You’ll get better. And then you’ll be just as strong as you were.”

  William nodded, chewing thoughtfully on his breakfast, before taking a long sip of tea.

  When she gathered up the empty bowls and cups, Scarlett said, “I’ll be back up later. Try to get some rest.”

  She exited the room, balancing the bowls, and carefully shut the door behind her, before heading down into the house to begin her day.

  Chapter Twelve

  William sighed and looked around the silent room. It was large, lived in and exuded a tatty, worn out charm. Everything was faded and floral and there was a slight mothball smell in the air. Still, he loved it and felt safer than he ever had in his own home. Crocheted blankets and outsized cushions were dotted around the room, while discoloured paintings of flowers and country scenes hung on the walls, which had been covered with peeling cream wallpaper.

  Now shivering, William sensed a fever slowly descending. He was both freezing and too hot, growing weaker by the second, and so slowly made his way back across to the bed, collapsing under the covers into another uneasy sleep. His dreams were surreal and lucid.

  As William slept, he wondered if he really was asleep or awake and hallucinating. For a few moments, he lost all sense of self and questioned who and where he was. He felt scared and worried and wondered if he would ever unravel himself from this unknown mess which was flying round his head. He struggled to breathe, as tiredness and pain seeped through his body, which burned with both fire and ice.

  The room was silent except for the tick of a clock, which hid surreptitiously somewhere close by. William listened, hypnotised as the seconds turned into minutes, then hours. He closed his eyes, feeling too static, an uncontrollable energy trapped inside of a broken body. He wished that he could jump up and run, but it hurt to even move his head.

  Now half awake, William clicked back into reality and remembered who he was and why he was here. His identity slowly merged with his other thoughts, feelings and pains. William had no idea how long he had been sleeping or if he had really slept at all. For all he knew, he had been lying awake for hours. Slowly sitting up, he fought the urge to vomit. He was far too hot beneath the pile of blankets, and so pulled off his dirty, torn shirt and climbed out of bed, his legs and torso stiff.

  Limping to the bathroom, William put a hand to his throbbing head. He couldn’t recall a time when he had ever been sick in his life and he hated feeling this powerless. William was usually lithe and strong, excelling in all aspects of life. He prided himself on his forceful, but steady style of fighting, both direct and restrained. Right now however, he had never felt more slow and untidy and this scared him.

  William downed a large glass of water, then looked at himself in the mirror. Scarlett’s bathroom was lit by a weak, yellow light bulb which enhanced the appearance of his wounds, much to his disgust. His skin was sallow, his body peppered with bruises and cuts. There were dark circles under his eyes, which were wan and bloodshot. It was painful to move, painful just to touch any body part. William’s insides felt rotten and every time he swallowed, it felt like he was swallowing shards of glass and razor blades. Feeling low, he sloped back to bed and curled up to attempt a less feverish sleep. He dropped off eventually and this time it was dreamless and deep.

  When he finally woke up, pain shot through his back. Rolling over, he tried to untangle himself from the blankets, stretching out and desperately willing his body to work again. As he stood, William noticed a tray of food sitting on a nearby table - a large bowl of thick soup, a plate of buttered rolls, a jug of juice and a pot of tea.

  He realized that he was ravenous and immediately set about eating the soup, tearing into the rolls furiously. He also noticed that the torn shirt which he had left discarded on the floor was gone and had been replaced by a small pile of new clothes. William quickly changed. The fresh, clean fabric felt good against his tired skin. He washed his face and hair and slowly began to feel like himself again.

  With a constantly shifting focus, William whiled away the afternoon reading, thinking and napping. He wandered aimlessly around the room, inspecting each and every painting and dusty ornament. In a faded, floral frame he found an old photograph of a much younger Scarlett. He instantly recognised her long, black hair and pale skin. The little girl looked out worriedly, holding the hand of a stern faced older women. They were stood by a shop front, unaware that a young interloper sat in the background – a small boy knelt in the shop window, poking his tongue out at the camera.

  Smiling to himself, William wiped the dust off the frame and gently set it back down on its table. With a heavy sigh, he sat and attempted to read some more. When Scarlett re-entered the room, William looked up, snatched from his thoughts. Having passed the day with such difficulty, he was relieved she had returned. She seemed weary and carried in her hands another tray of food. Setting it down on the table, Scarlett turned to William apprehensively. “I brought you some dinner.”

  “Thank you. You’re too good to me,” he grinned. William wished that he could say more, but couldn’t think of a word. He watched as she sank into a chair and closed her eyes.

  “Long day?” He asked.

  Scarlett nodded, her eyes still shut.

  “I’m sorry. You should get some sleep.”

  “No, I’m okay. I just needed a moments rest.” Scarlett sat up and looked at William. “I’m sorry I didn’t come up and check in on you more today.”

  “Please. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Were you okay?”

  “Yes. I mean…I will be.”

  She nodded slowly, biting her lower lip. “Good. Well, you should eat. I’m just going for a bath.”

  “Okay. Thank you,” William said with a nod.

  He watched as she slipped into the bathroom, before concentrating on the tray of food. As he ate, he instantly began to feel better. Once he was finished, William lay back on the bed with a sigh and stared up at the dusty ceiling alcoves above him. He was overwhelmingly exhausted, but it was still early and there was no way he would be able to sleep yet. Standing sluggishly, William dragged himself over to one of the windows and peered out at the sky. It was almost sundown.

  ‘I should be up there,’ he thought gloomily.

  He turned as he heard a light tapping on the door.

  "Come in.”

  Scarlett opened the door and rather than enter the room, merely stood in the entrance. She had changed into a black cotton dress and her long hair was now pinned up haphazardly into a bun.

  “How was dinner?”

  “It was excelle
nt,” William answered amicably. “Thank you. Again.”

  “You could go out if you want?” She indicated outside. “I mean, it’s only the balcony, but I’m sure it’ll make you feel better after being stuck inside all day.”

  William nodded slowly, as if he were deliberating on the suggestion. “Well, I think some air would be good. Okay,” he nodded.

  Following her outside, William sat down hesitantly on a cushioned chair.

  “It’s cold,” Scarlett said, with a shiver. “Would you like some tea?”

  “Yes, please. That would be nice.”

  Scarlett smiled and ducked back into the house, while William leaned back in the chair and stared out at the city. The sky above was stained with clouds of azure and amethyst, and lined beyond with a fiery honeyed glow. The buttery yellow of the gaslights below cast an unnatural radiance. This didn’t seem like his city. The evening air was chilled, and though the lights and sounds were unchanged, something jarred. Perhaps it was because he was viewing the city from a different perspective. William had always been a hero of Poisonwood, strong and free on the rooftops, undetectable and stealthy in the midnight alleyways. Now what was he? Nothing more than an uptown invalid.

  ‘You’ll recover,’ he told himself. ‘Just be patient.’

  Despite this however, sense and submission failed to reign triumphant within his consciousness and William couldn’t help but feel impetuous and mentally weakened. Trying not to feel so sorry for himself, he took a deep breath of the evening air and waited for Scarlett to return with cups of tea. When she came back, she set one cup down on a small table next to William.

  “Would you like some company?” She asked.

  “Yes, of course. Please.”

  She set her own cup down beside his, before stepping forward, looking out towards downtown and the sunset. It reflected in her bright eyes, and her hands gripped the edge of the balcony.

  “The sky is burning,” she said quietly, her brow furrowed in concentration. She watched, waiting for the sun to slip away behind the buildings, distracted and elsewhere, just for a moment. Sitting down cautiously, gathering her legs up into the chair, Scarlett looked at William with a worried expression on her face. “Is this allowed?”

  “Is what allowed?”

  “Are you allowed to talk to me?”

  He thought about his answer for a long time. “I don’t know. It’s all a bit blurry now. None of the others have ever been that concerned about it,” he shrugged, his tone a little calloused and bitter.

  “Well, you’re hurt and have nowhere else to go, so why shouldn’t you talk to me?”

  William nodded slowly, as he contemplated the ban on outside friendship and personal attachment, even love. He had always taken it seriously, but considering the way things were falling apart, the way other cities across the Realm were breaking off and making up their own rules, the way his grandfather allowed himself to be blackmailed and weakened, William didn’t know which rules he should be following and which he could break.

  After a long time, he looked over to her. “Yes, you’re right.” He paused, glancing down at his hands, then back across to Scarlett. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do or who I’m supposed to be anymore,” he confessed.

  Scarlett watched apprehensively. She clutched her tea, her eyes wide. In the eerie light cast by the sky above and the gaslights below, she seemed to look even more pure than usual. William hoped that she would never be hurt or sad, never become tarnished or touched by the evil that lurked in the dark and dirty corners of this city. The evil was growing and spreading, seeping its way across everything it came into contact with and he hoped that it would never make its way up to Scarlett.

  He could see that she was thinking of a response to his statement, something that would make him feel better, to put him at ease, but she couldn’t think of anything to say, because she felt it too and was still searching for an answer herself. It was a connection that went above words and actions. It was something unseen in the air and William wished he could take whatever it was and distil it into something he could keep forever in all its purity and preciousness.

  The air around him, though technically unchanged, felt thicker and difficult to take into the lungs. Time slowed, and though the lights and nightly sounds and scents of the city continued on around him, they somehow ceased to exist anymore. He watched as she looked away and gazed out across Poisonwood. Eventually she turned back and smiled at him warmly.

  “I know that everything is wrong right now, but you’ll be able to fix things. I know you will.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because you’re strong. We all get knocked down occasionally and it seems like things will never change or get better, but they do. They have to. We just wait it out and do what we can to keep it together.”

  “How do you keep it together?” William asked. “You get abandoned downtown early in the morning and decide to walk home, you fight off two men and end up on the rooftops of the city. A bloody body appears in your room and yet…” he paused, “it just rolls right off your back. How do you do it? How do you pick yourself up and carry on?”

  Scarlet smiled. “You don’t see the times when I’m behind the curtains with the doors locked and nobody else around. I’m not always strong. I’ve just always felt like I have to be. It’s like it’s in my blood or something. Not that I would know anything about that!” She added.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I was abandoned as a baby. I was found in the snow on one of the streets downtown. I was, maybe, one day old, so really I have no idea where I’m from or what’s in my blood.”

  “So, who found you?” He asked, thinking of the photo.

  “The Clearharts maid, Winifred. She raised me and took care of me. Now she’s an old lady and I take care of her. I took over as the maid. Winifred and the Clearharts are the only family I’ve ever known.”

  “You know nothing about your real parents?”

  Scarlett shook her head vigorously. “Nothing. Apparently Winnie tried to find them when I was found, but the name Winchester wasn’t recognised by anybody. They did everything they could think of, even writing to other cities to ask if they recognised the name, but nothing. Nothing at all. I appeared out of nowhere. Like magic.” She gave him a slight smile.

  “I’m sure one day you’ll find out.”

  “I’m not sure if I want to anymore. I thought about the sort of person who would leave a new born baby in the snow, and I can’t think of any good reason for it. I mean, if my mother couldn’t look after me, you would think she’d at least have left me on the doorstep of the orphanage. But it was dark and it was snowing and I was just abandoned on the side of the street, no clothes, just a thin, dirty blanket wrapped around me. I could have ended up covered in snow and only found once it melted and I’d have been…frozen and dead. I wasn’t wanted.”

  “Well, you’re wanted here,” William told her. “By the Clearharts I mean…and Winnie.” He coughed awkwardly.

  “I know,” Scarlett replied, with a shrewd grin. “I’ve always had Winifred. I remember holding her hand walking home from the markets once. I was five and I had these chunky, green mittens on and a big, black coat, taking three tiny steps for each one of Winifred’s strides. My cheeks were freezing, but it didn’t matter. For some reason I was excited. There was…something in the air that day, that cosy autumnal feeling when the leaves on the ground are dry and crunchy and the nights begin to get longer and darker.” William watched as her expression grew distant and dreamy. “There was something magical in the way that chilly breeze made the leaves dance about the pavement. I could never explain or understand it, but it was just…enchanting.” She stopped and looked back at him, meeting his eyes. “That’s what I think of when I think of Winifred. That happy, homely feeling. She is my family. But…I just wonder what I could have been if they hadn’t left me.”

  “You could be anything you want,” William told her without hes
itation.

  She looked at him, questioning him with her eyes.

  “I mean, don’t let the fact that you’re a maid prevent you from following your dreams. It shouldn’t define you, like being a Poisonwood doesn’t define me.”

  “Is that really what you think?”

  “No. But it’s what I tell myself.”

  Scarlett nodded slowly, as she thought about what he had said. She glanced back to William and noticed he was shivering. “Do you want to go in now? It’s getting quite cold,” she asked tentatively.

  “Yes, I suppose so.”

  They went back inside and Scarlett kept her eyes on him as William made his way back across to the bed.

  “Do you need anything?” She asked, hovering by the door.

  “No, I don’t think so.” He turned and smiled, watching her in the doorway. “Thank you though.”

  “Okay. Well, I’ll leave you to sleep then,” she said with a small, secretive smile and a wave.

  William gave a polite nod, then waited as she carefully closed the door and disappeared from sight. He continued to stare unseeing at the space where she had been, then sighed and dropped his head down into his hands. William felt tired, weak and dehydrated. Everything hurt, but his mind raced and the likelihood of a deep sleep did not seem like a viable option.

  Still he tried. He washed slowly and methodically, wondered for a brief moment how he was to brush his teeth, then saw a brand new toothbrush sat waiting for him next to the toothpaste and his heart jumped at the sweetness of the gesture. He gulped down another glass of water, then climbed back into bed with a grimace and shut off the light.

  William closed his eyes and tried to keep his mind clear, knowing full well that worrying wouldn’t help anything. Distantly he heard a click and opening his eyes saw that the crack of light beneath the door was gone. Scarlett was now in bed also, doing the exact same thing he was - trying to sleep. He sighed loudly, as his heartbeat suddenly sped up again.