“Now, wait a minute!” her mom interjected. “I won’t have you going off to God knows where and getting into trouble!”
“Mom! We think that’s where Sam’s dad is and maybe Ms. McVale too!”
Yas’s mom’s expression became more serious. “How do you know this?”
“A Custodian told us,” helped Sam. “In Alexandria.”
“Was this Ms. McVale’s doing?” asked her mom, looking for a way to dismiss it.
“No,” replied Yas. “Sam and I found the way. Ms. McVale took me to Victorian London. That’s where she was kidnapped.”
“Why didn’t you tell me any of this before?” Yas’s mom asked in desperation.
“Would you have listened?” shot back Yas. It was a risk, she knew, but repressed anger was getting the better of her. “We need you to help us!"
“No.” Her mom replied. She looked deflated. “I’ve been trying to avoid this for too long.”
“Can you at least describe the house to me?” asked Yas. “If I can remember more, maybe we can open the doorway.”
“No!” said her mom, standing up from the table. “You don’t know what you’re getting yourselves into.”
“Mom, please,” pleaded Yas again. “Ms. Vickers said Sam’s dad could be running out of time. She won’t help us. There’s no-one else.”
Yas’s mom looked uncertain. “I promised your father...”
“Please come with us,” urged Sam.
Yas’s mom sat and looked at them both, then down at the picture. Then, feeling torn, she said reluctantly, “I’ll help you get to the mansion. But beyond that, I don’t know.”
“Okay,” understood Yas. She could see that her mom was not yet ready to share whatever it was that they always shied away from, but she at least had confirmation of her instincts. There was more to this than her mom was letting on. That was enough for her right now.
“I’m sorry if this is difficult,” Yas reached out and touched her mom’s arm. Her mom nodded and smiled back, tears forming in the corners of her eyes.
Yas gave her mom a few moments to work through whatever it was she was feeling. Then, when she felt the time was right, she asked, “Can you describe what you remember?”
Her mom nodded and looked past Yas to the kitchen door.
“That fireplace was in a great room,” she started to explain. “That ran from the front to the back of the house.”
Yas closed her eyes and listened to her mom. Together with the image she had in her mind’s eye already, along with the snippet of the house they had been shown by Y’in, she built up as much of the picture as she could.
“There were large Georgian windows. The ceiling was high, ten feet probably. On sunny days, lots of light flooded in. You used to run around in front of the windows trying to catch the rays of light.” She smiled at the memory. “We’d go out for walks, up the long driveway, with its views over the surrounding hills and farmland. Then in the evenings, we’d light a fire just as the sunlight was starting to fade from the back of the house.”
“Its working, Yas,” said Sam gently. Yas risked opening her eyes. She could see that the portal had re-appeared and had grown to a few feet high. It was almost tall enough that they could squeeze through, if it were open.
Yas closed her eyes again.
“There was a sofa?” she asked her mom.
“Yes,” her mom smiled. “Grandpa would sit and read you stories for hours. He would try to get up, but you wouldn’t let him. You’d go and get him another book, from the library.”
“The library?”
“Yes,” explained her mom. “The house had a private collection of books. You used to go and fetch the oddest books for a child. History, mythology, and he would tell you stories while you looked at the pictures and listened.”
As her mom talked, Yas remembered the feeling of her grandpa next to her, reading. She had always imagined that to be in their house, but now she allowed her mind’s eye to picture that happening in this Great room, in the mansion.
Some additional details appeared in her mind. She could hear the crackling of the fire and the smell of the wood burning. It was a memory that was heavy with emotion and a tear formed in her right eye. Then McVale suddenly appeared in her mind also. She was in pain, off to the side, separate somehow. Relief at knowing where McVale was and anger at whoever was causing the pain coursed through her. Her pendant became warm against her skin and there was a ‘whoomph’ in the air. She opened her eyes.
“You did it,” said Sam, excited.
Yas opened her eyes, being careful to hold onto the image of the fireplace. It was more a feeling now, easier to hold onto.
Her mom looked at her, smiling nervously. Yas looked at the doorway and knew what her mom was thinking.
“You’ll come with us?” Yas voiced the uncertainty she saw. She could appreciate that her mom was torn, between being loyal to her father versus helping Yas. Yas knew what questions were racing through her mom’s mind. What if something happened to all of them?
“Should we wait for Dad?” she asked.
“No.” Yas’s mom shook her head. “He won’t come. He only came a few times anyway. He found reasons not to.” She stood up, a new certainty rising within her. “No,” she said moving over to the kitchen drawers and writing a note to leave for him. “If we’re going to do this, let’s do it now!”
Chapter 7
The Country Mansion
The three of them stepped through the doorway onto a wide gravel driveway. The front of the house exactly fitted the description given by Yas’s mom.
“The front door,” said Sam to Yas as they surveyed the scene around them. “It’s the same as the image we saw in Alexandria.”
“Yes,” agreed Yas. They were in the right place. The front door was partly shaded and set back under a porch, columns on either side. It explained why the door had seemed dark and foreboding in the image they had been shown. Either side of the porch were large Georgian windows, and from the outside it was difficult to see in. The sun was low in the sky, and hidden by fog of changing thickness, casting occasional shafts of light and bright cloud that reflected in the windows. The air was fresh but cold, the moisture in the air making it so.
Yas looked behind her at the portal and the rippling image of the kitchen beyond. She noticed that her pendant was hot next to her skin and she stepped away, watching as she did so. The portal collapsed in on itself and winked out, leaving a clearer view of the long driveway. She imagined that in the distance were gates but trying to look too far resulted in a speckled snow blindness.
“Let’s get inside,” said Yas’s mom, shivering. The cold was starting to get to all of them.
They walked on the gravel as lightly as possible, each of them looking about for any signs of life or movement. They reached the porch and stepped up onto the large flagstone in front of the door.
Sam reached forwards to the door and pushed it gently. It moved, making a slight creak on its hinges. He looked back at them nervously. Yas’s mom put her finger to her lips to signal quiet, then she stepped forwards and pushed the door open a little more. She leaned forwards and glimpsed through, looking and listening for any signs of movement. Satisfied that there were none, she opened the door fully and went inside, followed by Yas and Sam.
They stood on a stone floor which led to the foot of a wide wooden staircase. In the right-hand corner near the door and acting as some sort of elaborate coat stand, was a white statue of a gargoyle.
“I don’t remember that being there before,” said Yas’s mom, in passing.
“Yeah, that’s creepy,” agreed Sam, regarding it carefully.
The stairs led up to a gallery landing that ran both left and right, to guest rooms. Light from the large windows at the front of the house cast eerie grey shadows that moved across the back wall upstairs. Portraits hung on the wall going up the stairs. Yas didn’t remember these and wondered if they depicted previous owners of the house. None of t
hem seemed familiar.
The Great room that Yas had imagined was immediately to their left. Double doors opened inwards, allowing them to see through to the fireplace. They made their way into the room.
“Its exactly...” she tailed off. She was overwhelmed by memories that she had thought were dreams. Everything here was exactly as she had expected it to be. Her mom nodded in reply.
Yas walked over to the fireplace and traced her fingers along the carving of the flower on the sides of the mantel. The touch felt familiar. She had a distant memory of doing this when she was much younger, the carvings being much higher than her.
Yas’s mom walked slowly around the room. An occasional table had been moved from the side of a chair. Other items had been subtly moved from their intended positions. An ethereal reader appeared by the fireplace and gently flowed through the room. In response, characters materialised in the room, playing out elements of different mystery stories.
“Someone else has been here recently,” observed Yas’s mom.
There was a distant howl. The three of them, along with the wispy characters, looked through the windows at the front, to the source of the sound.
“What was that?” asked Sam.
“A hound?” Yas’s mom replied. “I’ve never heard that here before. But its been a long time since I stepped foot in this realm. Things have a habit of changing.”
Yas’s mom went over and put her hand gently on Yas’s back. “I can see now,” she started. “Its clear you have a gift. Your grandpa knew that, I think.”
Yas nodded, trying to keep tears at bay. The compliment was unexpected and a change from the mom that she had become used to over the past few years.
“There are stories of those who can conjure places from their imagination,” her mom continued. “The key is essentially in your mind.” She tapped the side of her head with her forefinger. “Grandpa was similar. Be careful who you tell this to. Many will be looking for someone like you.”
Yas nodded, acknowledging the warning.
There was a sound from another room. The three of them froze and looked at the door, straining their hearing.
Sam moved towards the door quietly, looking and listening. Then he looked back to Yas, shrugging. He couldn’t see any obvious source of the sound. There was another howl.
“That’s getting closer,” whispered Sam.
“Its outside,” Yas’s mom whispered in reply. “We’re safe in here, for now.” She moved forwards, past Sam and out into the hallway.
“I still don’t remember this,” Yas’s mom gestured towards the statue.
Yas followed, regarding the creature with suspicion. Something felt off about it.
They followed the hallway along the side of the stairs. Ahead of them on the right-hand side was a doorway. It was part open, allowing a glimpse of a back wall that was all bookshelves. The changes in the light outside played across the books. Yas’s mom took a few slow steps towards the doorway and peeked through. Then she looked back at Yas and Sam before pushing the door open and going inside.
Sam and Yas followed. The walls were lined with books, with large Georgian windows at the front letting in the familiar grey light. There were two sofas, one with two books left neatly, one open. Along the back wall, was a large statue of an owl.
“What is it with these weird statues?” asked Yas’s mom.
“Is that stuffed?” asked Sam, walking over to it, his hand outstretched to touch it.
“The face though,” added Yas’s mom. “Its very life like.” Yas’s mom walked around the room and took a quick look at the books left on the sofa. “Interesting.”
Yas followed Sam to the statue. She couldn’t quite place the familiarity she felt. She looked down to the pedestal where an empty glass bowl sat, along with something she recognised.
“Ms. McVale has been here,” she said, bending over and picking up a brooch.
“How do you know?” asked her mom, coming over.
“She was wearing this owl brooch on Monday. I’m sure it’s the same one.”
The owl’s head moved to look at Yas.
“What the!” she exclaimed, taking a few steps backwards.
“What is it?” Yas’s mom asked.
“The eyes,” said Yas, shaking. “They moved.”
“Its okay,” said her mom, touching Yas on her arm. “We’re all on edge. Let’s just take a few breaths.”
They all tried to calm themselves, while watching the statue.
“Its looking at this,” said Yas, holding up the brooch for her mom to see.
The owl’s eyes followed it.
“Did you see?” Yas said, pointing.
“Yes,” replied her mom, suspiciously. “Its some sort of magic. You knew McVale the best. Do you feel anything from the brooch? Sometimes Grandpa would be able to feel the energy, the magic.”
“What should I do?” asked Yas, looking at her mom for confirmation.
“Just see how the brooch feels to you. Warm, cold, fizzy, calm. That sort of thing.”
“Okay,” Yas replied, intrigued by the notion. She tried to tune in to the brooch and whatever it might know about its owner. She felt a vibration in her fingers and opened her eyes.
“Oh crap!” The brooch had started to glow and emit a stream of words. Yas dropped it on to the floor and stepped back. The brooch clattered down, and the stream of words stopped.
They all looked at each other, waiting to see what would happen next. The owl’s head looked down at the brooch, then up at Yas and made a gentle hissing sound.
“What the...!” she said. “Its real.”
Sam crouched down to pick up the brooch. He held it in his palm.
“Be careful,” Yas warned. She didn’t know what the statue might do next.
“I remember my mom using magic like this,” Sam said, looking at the brooch intently. “She could heal injuries. Undo other magic.”
He looked at the owl. It looked back at him and seemed to understand.
Sam concentrated on the brooch and a thicker stream of words started to flow towards it.
“She used to say it was all about intention,” he added.
He watched with curiosity as the words continued to flow. As they did so, the features of the creature changed. The edges vibrated and blurred, then unknitted. Feathers started to disappear, the edges of the owl softening to become skin covered with clothing. Then a face emerged that they recognised.
“Oh my God!” said Yas, putting her hands to her face. “Its Ms. McVale!”
She could see McVale’s face appearing, smiling weakly at her. As the words continued to stream to the statue, her features continued to transform. Her wings changed to arms, the top half of her body extended downwards, reforming her employer, standing on the pedestal. Weakened by the magic, McVale collapsed forwards. Sam caught her and gently lowered her to the floor. Yas helped prop her up.
“Hello?” McVale said eventually. She sounded confused. Her eyes were bleary.
“Its me, Ms. McVale! Yas!” said Yas.
McVale was struggling to take in what was in front of her. There was a dreamy part of her that was fading, leaving just her. She found it difficult to accept the reality around her. In truth, she preferred the daydreams she’d been having about being outside.
“Yas,” she echoed, eventually. Then, gradually, realisation dawned on her face and her expression turned to surprise. “What are you doing here?”
“You told me to get help,” Yas replied, smiling.
“I did?” asked McVale. She was having trouble remembering. She knew that she had seen Yas’s face in a modern-day bookstore and in a Victorian era, but she struggled to link the two. Then she remembered a tall man talking. Who was he? She tried to remember.
“You’re needed,” McVale said. Some thoughts were clicking together, but it was like walking through mud. Everything was incredibly sticky, distracting her thinking.
“What do you mean?” asked Yas’s mom. She move
d closer to McVale.
“You shouldn’t be here,” McVale said, waving a finger admonishingly at Yas. She knew she sounded drunk or unhinged.
“Why?” asked Yas. She looked around to her mom.
“They want you to give them the peace . . ,” McVale tried to say. She had trouble forming the word in her mouth. “Peacekee.” She closed her eyes for a moment and lost consciousness.
“Let her rest, Yas,” said her mom.
“What is she talking about?” asked Yas.
“I think there’s more to this than missing persons,” replied her mom. “Let’s see if we can find your father, Sam, and then get out of here as quickly...”
She stopped and froze. Behind them, was a scraping noise. They all turned to look out of the front windows. Each of them replayed the sound in their minds.
“A branch on the window?” suggested Yas. There were some bushes just outside.
“I don’t know,” replied Sam nervously. “It sounded like stone on stone.”
Yas’s mom walked closer to the front window and looked out. Seeing nothing, she looked left and right.
Suddenly, a large hairy hound face appeared upside down at the window. They all screamed in surprise. Yas’s mom jumped backwards in shock and collided with the sofa, half crashing, half sitting down. Yas and Sam froze. McVale started to come around.
“We need to go,” said Yas’s mom with as much command in her voice as she could muster.
Yas and Sam helped McVale walk, while Yas’s mom went ahead. Outside, the wolf had dropped down onto its hind legs and was scraping at the window. It made a similar sound to earlier, much like claws on a chalk blackboard.
Yas, Sam and McVale moved towards the hallway. Yas’s mom looked left and right. Behind them, the hound threw back its head and howled up into the sky. It echoed all around the house.
“Which way?” asked Sam.
Yas’s mom hesitated, realising that their exit lay outside, but that it would be best to be away from the wolf right now. She looked at the front door and the statue and saw its eyes move to meet hers. It moved its arms and took a step, reaching out to try and grab her.
The Word Guardians: and the Battle for the Peacekeepers Page 16
