by Liz Williams
At this point, Serena herself came into the kitchen. She was dressed. “Oh, you’re up. Ward’s still asleep. Bella’s still asleep.” She joined them at the table and rubbed her eyes. “I wish I was still asleep.”
“You could have stayed in bed,” said Stella.
“I woke up, and started overthinking and I got sick of it. I didn’t want to wake Ward up. I thought I might take the dogs for a walk.”
“I won’t come with you,” Stella said. “I’ve done quite enough walking for this week.”
“I’ll come, if that’s okay,” Alys said.
“I should think you’ve done quite enough walking as well.”
“Yes. I suppose it’s left me restless. I could do with some fresh air.”
“Actually,” Serena said, “I don’t think you ought to come, Mum. I don’t think it’s very safe right now. I’m not going to take the dogs past the orchard.”
Alys’ eyes flashed warning blue. Then she subsided. “You might be right.”
“In that case, I will come.” Stella drained her tea. “I’ll keep an eye on you and Mum can sit here.”
They reached the edge of the orchard, silent after the bustle of Apple Day and now denuded of marquee and stage by Caro Amberley’s helpers. Stella released a breath that she had not realised she had been holding. The orchard seemed to enfold them both, though Bee had told her that it was through the orchard that she had time-travelled.
“Don’t you try that nonsense with me,” Stella said, aloud.
“Sorry?”
“I didn’t mean you. I was talking to the trees. There’s been quite enough of that sort of thing.”
Serena gave a grim nod. She threw the spaniels’ ball for them, over and over. It never grew old. Hardy and Nelson fought and snarled and gurgled at one another, play fighting across the newly shorn grass. It would, Bee had said, be the last cut of the year. Stella looked back at the house repeatedly, just in case it had decided to disappear, but it still stood, solid with the kitchen light pooling in a welcoming glow across the courtyard. As Stella watched, a bedroom light went on. Luna and Sam were getting up. That’s better, she thought to the house. You stay right there.
The dogs’ ball hit her foot. She picked it up and threw, watching them race about. Serena was in sight, not moving too far away. After a few minutes, she said, “Stella?”
“Yep?”
“Have you noticed something?”
“Oh God, what now?”
“It’s not getting any lighter.”
Stella looked at the sky. Serena was right: the grey halflight of dawn, into which they had taken the dogs, was still present.
“It’s quite cloudy. I don’t think we’ll see the sun come up.”
“But it should be up by now, Stella. We’re on more or less the same latitude as London and I have to be up really early because of Bella and school and so on and I can see the sky from my place. It should be quite light by now. It’s nearly eight.”
She was right, Stella realised. She shot a wild look back at the house but more lights were on by now. Nell’s window still lay dark. In the next room, she could see her niece at the glass. Bella waved.
Above, the stars were suddenly very bright; not the faint morning stars, soon banished by day, but those of deep night. The blue lamp of Sirius burned over the apple trees and the Hunter strode overheard, with Aldebaran crimson beyond. The Pleiades sparkled over the Bull’s shoulder and in the east the comet was blazing.
“I think we should go back indoors,” Serena said.
“I think so, too.”
Serena corralled the spaniels and they hastened across the lawn. Everyone except Sam and Bella was now in the kitchen. Bee was up, cooking breakfast in a comedy apron. There was no sign of Dark. Her mother was, Stella noted with relief, still where they had left her.
“Dogs all walked? Who wants bacon? I don’t mean you, Stella and Luna. Although we’ve got veggie sausages. I’m going to do scrambled eggs.”
“I don’t want to freak everyone out,” Stella said, “But what happened to sunrise?”
Ward went into the hallway and came back in short order. “Your impressive clock has stopped.”
“So has my watch,” said Bee.
Serena ran for the staircase.
“Bella? Can you come down here, please, sweetheart? Quickly!”
“Where’s Sam?”
“He went out to the van with the dog,” Luna said. “I’ll get him.”
But as she opened the door, Sam came in, all in a rush as if blown.
“Something’s not right. It’s too dark. And it’s getting really cold.”
Serena, returning, said, “Bella’s coming down. But Nell won’t answer her door and it’s locked from the inside.”
“You’re going to have to tell her something now,” Ward said.
“How? Slide a note under it? I suppose we could send her a text if we can get a signal.”
Stella was watching the windows of the kitchen. With the Aga quietly roaring away and the hob switched on, the kitchen was a warm haven. But fingers of frost were starting to climb up the glass, each one a tiny diamond point, and it was growing colder. All three dogs, Moth and the spaniels, were up and staring at the back door.
“This bacon’s not frying,” Bee said. She switched off the hob with a click but Stella did not think it would make much difference. Frost was creeping beneath the back door, turning the flagstones to faint silver.
From behind, Dark said, “We are under attack.”
“What do we do?” Ward was glancing around him, as if seeking weapons.
“Wait. I don’t know what will happen now.”
Stella marched to the back door.
“Don’t open it!”
“I’m not going to open it, Mum. I just want to have a look out.”
The whole courtyard was covered in frost. Icicles crept down from the guttering and Stella could hear them chime.
“Where are the stars when you need them?”
Stella turned away from the back door but as she did so, there was a thunderous knock. The dogs roared.
“Fuck!”
“That’s not the postman,” said Ward.
“I’m certainly not opening it to find out!”
The knock came again. It sounded as though someone was trying to kick in the door.
“Is that going to hold?” Bee snapped.
“Push the table against it!”
“Don’t invite them over the threshold!”
“I think that’s vampires, darling. Help me with the table.”
Bella, very pale, and Serena started to shove the big table across the flags but the knock came again and the door flew open.
Dana Stare stood on the step, in her leather jacket and a long lace skirt. Her face was paper-white and her eyes blazed.
“You’ve got something of mine, and I want it back!”
Ward said, “Miss Stare, I presume? I’m sure if anyone’s got your property, they’ll be happy to return it.”
“Oh,” Alys said. She pushed back her chair and stood up. “It’s you.”
“Give it back, you thieving cunt.”
“Language, language, so important,” Alys murmured. “It’s not yours – it’s mine. Can’t steal your own belongings, can you?”
“No,” Serena said. “but you can steal other women’s men, just because, can’t you? Enspell them just because you can?”
“It didn’t take much spellcraft,” Dana said. “He was gagging for it anyway.” She spat on the kitchen floor and the spittle sizzled and hissed, evaporating into a cloud of small winged flies that spiralled upwards.
“Conjuring tricks,” said Alys with scorn. But the cloud comma’d out and settled around Serena’s head. She gasped. Stella made a move forward, to pull her sister back, but something was happening. Serena was surrounded by light, a mist, a glow. It was as though she’d walked into thick fog, lit by headlights. Ward Garner said, “Oh, shit.”
&nbs
p; The mist faded but Serena wasn’t there any more. Instead, a white hare sat poised on the kitchen floor. Dana snarled. The hare darted forwards. It shot between Dana’s feet and out into the cold dark. Dana said something, a long liquid word. Black mist surrounded her and then she, too, was gone. Stella glimpsed the mink, shooting arrow-swift, after the hare.
Stella
Stella ran for the door but her mother got there first. Alys slammed the back door shut, scraping frost from the floor.
“What are you doing?”
“We can’t help her! We can’t go after her, we can’t run that fast.”
“What about the lych path?”
“Luna, we don’t know where they’ve gone.”
Stella pulled open the door into the hall. “I heard something.”
There was an arctic breath of air blowing through the hall. Stella raced into the dining room. The French doors that led to the garden were wide open. Ice was already fringing the long curtains.
“Get this fucking door shut!” Stella shouted. But the door was ripped out of her hand and she stumbled forwards. Someone caught her by the arm. She caught a glimpse of the garden, black and silver in the shimmering light. Ned Dark pulled her back.
“Careful.”
“What is it?” Bee had been right behind her.
“It’s Tam Stare, I know it is. Look!” A figure was running through the trees, flickering like a magic lantern.
“The orchard is my domain,” Dark said. He stepped through the French windows. “Leave him to me.”
“No chance.” Bee and Stella were already in the garden. Stella turned and pulled the French windows shut from outside, then she ran.
Serena
She remembered this, the flying dance. Instinct had propelled her through the door but she was more herself, this time, as if growing accustomed to this business of changing shape. She fled, darting, down the lawn and through the hedge and over the grass and leaped a wall, landing in the lane. The roadway was silent, free of even the infrequent cars. Serena bolted down the lane, heedless of the cold, heading for the churchyard.
Of anyone outside Mooncote itself, Abraham would know what to do. And she might change back. Draw Dana away. Then fight?
The mink was not far behind. As before, Serena could hear it, hissing as it ran. Dana wanted her to know that she was following. And Serena did not think that Dana would be quick with the kill, no quick snap and oblivion, or a catapult into ghost-form. Dana struck her as the type who would play with her food. But it was not far from the church. She could see the lych gate and, running from it, the faint, pulling lure of what must be Alys and Luna’s lych path. No, mustn’t, won’t.
Serena scrambled up over the churchyard wall, paws scrabbling in the ivy, and fell into the churchyard itself. She could see Abraham’s tomb, looming large and pointed. Above, the weathercock swung and gave a scream. She was still hare, not woman.
Serena ducked behind the tomb and hid. She felt, rather than heard, the mink pour over the wall. Into one long ear, she heard her grandfather say,
“Sweetheart? You’ve got to go back.”
Bee
Dark had become a swarm of bees, flying up into the shadows of the orchard, but a moment later the swarm descended and he stood there in human form once more, out of breath.
“It’s too cold.”
“He’s gone through the hedge gate,” Stella said. She stood, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet.
“There’s nothing there, except the meadow.”
“I’m not going to let the bastard give me the slip again.” Stella drew a breath and set off. She was a fast runner; Bee not so. More heavily built but on her feet for a lot of the day, she was not unfit, but she could not keep up with her marathon-running sister. By the time she reached the gate in the hedge, Stella was halfway down the field.
But she could see Tam Stare. He was standing at the end of the meadow, arms outstretched in mocking welcome.
“Come and get me then, you slippery bitch. Come on, little Tarka – come to Uncle Tam!”
“Fuck you!” Bee heard Stella shout. But she slowed to a halt, allowing Bee to catch up, panting.
“I can’t just go for him. He’s stronger than I am. I haven’t got a weapon.”
“We took him before. I took him.” But the sunlit magic which she had conjured up on the southern shore was too weak now without Drake’s back-up. She could feel it inside her mind, like a breath of summer, but it could not combat this iron cold.
“He comes, he comes!” Tam Stare shouted. His head went back, his arms up, in a gesture of exultation. “He is here!”
The hedge parted, the thorn bushes shrivelling back. Through the thorns came the figure whom Stella had met on the stairs, whom Bee had glimpsed in the yard on Hallowe’en night. It was huge, eight feet or more, towering over the slight figure of Stare. It wore a heavy cloak of skins, fringed with ice, and its face was now human but wrong, the colour of fir at night, a deep black-green. Its obsidian eyes had moonlight in their depths and it moved swiftly, on back-jointed legs. The stubby horns above its forehead, half concealed by a hood, began to grow as they watched, shedding strips of skin, until the great antlered rack spread outwards. Stella could not see fully inside the depths of the swinging cloak but she thought it might have an erection.
“What is it?” Bee whispered.
“Nothing I want to meet!”
“He is here,” Tam said, in a voice filled with delight.
Luna
“Come with me,” Alys said, to Sam and Luna. To Ward, she added, “Stay here and look after Bella.”
“I’ll do my best!”
“Where’s my mum?” Bella was in tears.
“Don’t go out of the house.” Luna watched as Alys bent down to look her granddaughter in the face. “Don’t worry. She will come back. She will be all right. I promise you.”
Bella gave a shaky nod.
Alys tugged an old Barbour off the rack and struggled into it. She pulled on a pair of hiking boots. She was still wearing the blue velvet kaftan.
“I know I look ridiculous. I don’t care.”
Luna was putting on her own boots.
“No one’s going to see you, Mum.”
“I’m sure the neighbours gave up long ago.”
“Wait –” said Ward, but Alys had already opened the back door.
“There’s nothing out there now. That girl won’t stop till she finds Serena, except she isn’t going to find her, because my daughter’s too clever. So don’t worry, Bella.”
Then she was gone. Luna, hastening after with Moth, saw her marching out of the courtyard and down the drive. She did look ridiculous, but somehow dangerous as well. How had she managed that?
“Do you know where’s she’s going?” Luna said to Sam.
“She’s going to the lych path. Look, you can see it.”
The path, by now familiar to Luna, ran over the fields. She could see it beyond the hedge that separated garden and meadows and orchard. When she looked across to Hornmoon church, the weathercock gave a flash of fire, as if caught in the light of the sun. But it was still pitch black, with the stars motionless overhead. There were shapes in the meadow. At first Luna thought they were trees, because they were so still, but then she realised that they were people. Bee and Stella and Dark. And someone else.
Serena
Serena crept around the tombstones. The blue spark of Abraham danced before her, showing her the way. She could hear the mink, sniffing around on the other side of the churchyard: Dana had not yet picked up her scent, but it wouldn’t be long. Abraham led her under the fronded branches of a yew, berries black-wax in the lack of light, and she felt its poisonous needles brush her face before she was out, heading around the side of the church to the smaller back gate.
“Go!” Abraham whispered. “I’ll distract her,” and the firefly spark flitted away. Serena, as if shot out of the greyhound traps, was off. Under the gate and down the field, ru
nning for her life. She tore through the hedge, leaving white fluff behind, and back along the road. There was an animal squeal of rage from the churchyard. Serena ran and ran, everything going into the power of her legs and her flight, until the gates of Mooncote once more came into view. She was nearly home.
Stella
It was so cold. Stella’s teeth chattered and her legs felt leaden. She tried to push Bee away, tried to run, could not do a damn thing. The being that was coming up the hill fast towards them had hands like clubs, it was too big, she would claw and kick and bite if she had to but not even adrenaline was enough to carry her out of the cold’s locked embrace. She was suddenly and unpleasantly aware of the surge of blood between her legs, one of those floodings which sometimes overcame one, soaking the sanitary pad. Beside her, Bee was still and Dark was transfixed, staring.
“We’re fucked,” Stella whispered.
“Look what I’ve brought you!” Tam Stare sang and whatever accent he’d been assuming fell away; Stella did not think he was even human any more, if he had ever been. His eyes were blue fire. The being was here, a few feet away, and it opened its mouth and she smelled smoke and blood, its peatfire breath, heard the clack of bones from beneath its cloak, tried not to look into the wells of its eyes – and then there were pattering hooves on the frost ground, ringing out like Christmas.
Stella turned her head. A doe stood close by on the meadow. She would have been almost invisible if she had stood against the meadow, but she was whitefire, silhouetted on the frost of the field like a heraldic figure. The being saw her. It flung up the cloak, which fell to the floor in a bundle of leaves, and dropped onto all fours, a green stag. Stella looked into its wild golden eye and felt scorched. The doe gave a cry and bounded up, then she was off, across the field with a roe deer’s springing leaps, and over the hedge. The stag went after. They watched as the two animals raced away to the west.
