by Ken Altabef
“And she steals children and grinds their bones in her teeth,” added James.
“Gives me a shiver too,” remarked Lucinda, “just to hear the children speak of it. A screaming banshee is her handmaiden, wailing deathsong into the night. And she lives in a burial mound centuries old and stuffed full of ghosts. And she’s not even the worst.” The old nurse hunched her shoulders and rolled her eyes. “At the head of the Winter Court is the Dark Queen. Her domain is the dusk and darkness, shadows and shades. That’s where she lives. Her power comes from the dark side of the Moon and her enchantments create terror and madness.”
Nora practically squealed.
“All right Lucinda,” said Theodora, “I think that’s enough for one night.”
“Are they all evil hags? The faeries?” asked James.
“Oh yes,” said Lucinda.
“Enough, enough,” said Theodora forcing a little laugh. “Lucinda, would you go and draw the children’s evening water and bring it up please?”
“Yes ma’am.”
The old woman folded her knitting and tucked her needles, then walked slowly out the door.
“Is it true?” asked James. “All that about Black Annis?”
“Well… Black Annis does not have a banshee for her handmaiden. But it’s true. There really is a Back Annis.”
“Did she ever try to gobble you up?” asked Nora. “When you were a little girl?”
“No.”
“She sounds horrible, just horrible,” said Nora, and this time she really did seem afraid. “Just like the rest of the blights.”
Theodora sighed. “Let’s not use that word, dear. Black Annis is real. But not all faeries are like that. You wouldn’t judge all human beings by the actions of some bloodthirsty pirate. There are good faeries and bad faeries just like people.”
“Good faeries?” both children said at once. The idea was practically incomprehensible to them.
Theodora wanted very much to tell them the truth. She had come here to tell them. But the situation hadn’t changed. What reaction could she expect if the children learned that they were themselves half faery? They either wouldn’t believe her or would run screaming from the room. Once again she was caught in the web of her own deceit. How had she come to this? To believe that lies were more comfortable than the truth?
But of course they are, she told herself. You’re a faery, aren’t you? That’s how it is with us faeries, didn’t you know?
And now it didn’t seem to matter anyway. If this was to be the children’s last night on earth why frighten them unnecessarily? She saw no reason to tell them anything except the most important thing.
“I love you,” she said. “Just remember that, and don’t worry about faeries and monsters. Nobody’s going to bother you tonight. Now let’s tuck you in nice and cozy.”
Theodora gave Nora’s blankets the usual unnecessary maternal adjustment.
“Are you going somewhere tonight, Mum?”
“No. Just getting ready for bed. Perhaps we’ll go out for a picnic lunch tomorrow. How about we go to Murch’s Island?”
One more lie. Well, perhaps more of a dream than a lie. She’d like nothing better than to have that picnic lunch with her children. And Eric. But that was never going to happen. Her voice cracked slightly as she added, “We’ll have some roast chicken and boiled fruit pudding. Wouldn’t that be nice? I’ll be—”
She heard the door open behind her.
Theodora’s first thought was that Lucinda had hardly had time to make it all the way down to the pump house and back. And then she felt a sudden rush of desperation. She turned.
“Eric!”
Her husband looked a mess. He must have just come from the bedroom, judging from the way he was dressed, boots half-laced, shirt and jacket hastily thrown on, cuffs still undone.
“Daddy!”
He swept his hair back with both hands as if to restore some of his lost dignity. But then, realizing that none of this mattered as far as the children were concerned, he gave his shirt a final tug. He walked past Theodora, turning his back on her as if she hadn’t been standing there. He went to Nora’s bed and kissed her on the forehead.
“Ready for sleepy time?” he asked.
Nora nodded vigorously.
“Excellent.” He gave her a hug and tucked her back in.
James, who had been waiting patiently for his turn, suddenly sat up, knocking his own blankets off. “Don’t forget me.”
Eric chuckled as if he hadn’t a care in the world. “Oh, you know I could never forget my boy. What did you do today?”
“Studies. With teacher. We worked on sums and figures.” James made a face as if being forced to eat rhubarb. “Do we have to study tomorrow too? Mum said we’ll have a picnic lunch on the island.”
“Of course you’ll come, won’t you Daddy?” Nora asked.
Eric forced a half smile. He kissed his son on the forehead. “Let’s just get you tucked in.” He adjusted the blankets once more, then stood back as if admiring his handiwork.
“The picnic?”
“Mmmm. I’ve got some business tomorrow.” He put his hands up to quell the barrage of objections from the two little ones. “But I shall see what I can do. Let’s say maybe. Now off to sleep.”
“Shall we dream of pirates?” asked James.
Eric chuckled softly. “If you must.”
Theodora watched this exchange with a dread sense of unreality. Eric was acting as if nothing terrible had happened between them. Of course he was play-acting for the sake of the children but she almost allowed herself a moment to believe it as well, to sink into the fantasy that nothing had changed, that she hadn’t betrayed him and caused him to be tortured, and ruined everything. It was just a childish fantasy, but she cherished the moment and drew some strength from it. She would need that strength, she knew, because in the next few moments there would come a reckoning.
Eric turned around at last. He regarded Theodora with a stern expression as if she were just another one of the children to be disciplined. He was once again a man in charge. And then she knew. Things had changed.
“I’m going to talk to your mother outside,” he announced. “Sleep tight, children.”
After a few more goodnights Eric stepped out of the room and gently closed the door. He walked down the hall a little way so sleepy ears might not hear their talk.
“You know I have it. You must be able to feel it.”
Theodora stood before him, trying desperately to remain calm in the face of what was sure to be a bludgeoning. She felt her glamour slipping away and struggled to retain it. Perhaps she should let it go entirely but the illusion still represented her old life, her strong and beautiful marriage. She wanted desperately to hold on.
She knew full well what Eric was talking about. It was in his left jacket pocket. She could feel it. The lens created a particular sense of dread in her belly, a profoundly sad feeling as if she might die at any moment. At least she thought so. It was hard to tell because, given the circumstances, she felt that way anyway.
He took the lens out of his pocket. He turned it over in the palm of his hand. It seemed a perfect fit.
“It’s not fully charged up yet,” he said casually. “Needs a little more moonlight, I think.”
“Where did you…?”
“My brother left it for me. Did you have that planned too? For me to find it? Is that why you let me go?”
His tone was cold, his accusations hot. There was no softness in his voice, only contempt. This is what he thinks of me, Theodora thought. Nothing but a liar and a schemer.
“No,” she said. “I let you go because I love you.” Their love was real; it always had been. Eric did love her, regardless of her being a faery. Her interrogation had proven that, but his love was only half the story. It was possible to love someone and hate them too. And perhaps no way back from that. “My brother loved me too. He hid the lens in a secret place, in his last few lucid moments before th
e faeries drove him to suicide.”
“Bad things happened on both sides.”
“That’s true,” he admitted. “And worse things may happen still. Your father—the one pretending to be Stump—your family, how many of them are here?”
“What are you planning to do?”
“You know what this thing can do.”
“The weapon, yes, but what about the man? You’re not like Griffin. You’re not a murderer, Eric. I know that.”
“You know everything,” he said. “You pried it all out of me. You doubted me. You tested me.”
“You doubted me!” she said, flaring with sudden anger. “The truth is, I never lied to you at all. Everything I said—everything I did—it was all true.”
“Except the part about being a human being.”
She looked away. “I never said I was. I never lied.”
“It’s not something I was likely to ask, was it?”
“Don’t you see? It wouldn’t have mattered. All those years I thought it would have, and I was afraid, but now we both know.” It was hard to look at him. His eyes were so cold and unforgiving. Theodora frowned but stood firm. She would say it. “Because when I showed my true self to you, it didn’t matter.”
“You mean that little wedding night playacting scene you subjected me to?”
“Yes. But I wasn’t play acting. And neither were you. I’m sorry Eric, I should have told you long ago. But there’s still a chance now. You have the lens. We can use it against the monster—”
“Oh, just stop. Stop lying.”
“I’m not lying.”
His anger made the lens spark up and he pulled it away lest it accidentally do some faery roasting right there and then. Its hot and oppressive power licked at her like a flame. She drew back.
“If you want me to leave,” she said, “I’ll go.”
“I want you to leave?”
“You said that’s what you wanted. When you first learned the truth. You told me to go away.”
Eric shook his head. “Those others. Make them leave. That’s what I want. Because if you don’t… I will kill them.”
I should tell him this doesn’t matter, she thought. Time is running out. If we don’t stop that thing from coming tonight, there won’t be anything else to worry about. But she didn’t say that. Not yet. This might very well be their last chance to talk. There was one more thing she must know. “And me?”
“I don’t want you to go. Stay with me… with us.” He gestured toward the children’s room. “Just make the others leave. You can be whatever you want, whoever you want. You’re right. It doesn’t matter to me. I’ll set things right. If people object, we’ll make them understand. All you have to do is send the others away.”
Theodora’s breath caught in her throat. These were the words she most desperately longed to hear, words she hadn’t dared hope for. Was it possible? Was there a chance they could put this all behind and go on with their life together? “They will go. I promise. After we use that thing to drive the Chrysalid away—”
Eric looked as if he’d been stabbed in the heart. “The lens! This is the only thing you want, isn’t it? The only thing you really care about.”
“I must have the lens, for all our sakes. If you don’t believe me…” Theodora’s head began to spin. The lens was too close. What could she say? How could she convince him? “If you don’t believe me, then kill me with it.”
“I won’t do that. I couldn’t. I’d rather destroy it first.” He raised the lens as if he might dash it to bits on the ground.
In that instant the end table next to Eric rose up, its image flowing in a swirl of lacquered wood that changed to orange and red as if autumn had fallen upon it all in a rush. Eric had no time to react before a ruffled sleeve shot out, a balled fist punching him in the face. The end table had become a tall, thin dandy in a red coat. Meadowlark.
Eric fell backward, still cradling the lens. He might very well have used it to burn the faery down, but Meadowlark snapped his fingers and Eric fell asleep.
Chapter 43
She must hurry. She must hurry.
Theodora walked with as brisk a step as she could get away with, heading down the garden path toward the guest cottage. She wanted to break out into a run but that wouldn’t do. She couldn’t afford to let anyone see the lady of the house running through the night. Appearances must be kept up even now, even in the final hour.
She had to find Amalric immediately. She must hurry. There was still a chance. She had the Silvered Lens. The Chrysalid has not yet come and she possessed the means to chase it back across the starry sky and prevent its rampage of destruction. There was now hope, and that was something she hadn’t felt in a long, long time. Everything was finally coming to fruition just as Moon Dancer had planned. All she needed was the alchemist, for no faery could possibly use the lens without being incinerated immediately. Only a human being could wield that weapon.
Hurry, hurry, she told herself. But it was hard to put thoughts of Eric out of her mind. Their conversation of a few minutes ago had torn her apart. He’d offered to take her back, he had swallowed his pride, agreed to put his family name and reputation on the line for her and what had he received in return? A punch in the face from an end table.
Such a thing would actually be funny if it hadn’t just happened to her own husband. She was once again left in the lurch. There was hope for the world at last, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that any ideas of continuing her marriage were now hopeless.
Worse yet, she’d had to leave Eric back at the main house in the tender care of none other than Meadowlark. She’d warned him not to harm Eric but Meadowlark was Meadowlark. He listened to no one. He did whatever he wanted. The mischievous sparkle in his eyes was as much a part of him as anything else. Mischievous, untamed and cruel. The thought of Eric bound and helpless in the hands of that malicious spirit was hard for Theodora to swallow. She’d warned him. That was all she could do. There was no more time. She needed the alchemist.
A few yards from the guest cottage she saw a strange figure at the side of the path. A dark silhouette hunched over in the murky night, it seemed like a bush or small shrub except for the fact that it was shivering. And it wore a big, frilly white wig.
Amalric was crouched on the ground, his back to her, his arms extended down at either side.
“Amalric? What’s happened to you?”
The frilly wig turned and lifted a little. A pair of dark eyes locked onto her. The motion was stiff and disjointed as if the head tugged at the body but was unable to turn at the shoulder. Theodora noticed that the alchemist’s hands had formed root-like tendrils extending down into the soil. He couldn’t turn around. He looked at her with a blank expression as if he didn’t recognize her. His face was hard and grained as if made of wood, with a day’s growth of beard sprouting on the chin and upper lip. These hairs on his cheeks were dark green and resembled curly patches of moss.
She didn’t understand what could have happened. Was this the result of some alchemical experiment gone wrong? Why did this have to happen now? At the worst possible time.
“Amalric! We have the lens. We need you.”
The distorted shrub rustled more aggressively and its arms jerked against the ground. A low rumbling came from the tortured mouth as the tips of the fingers pulled free of the earth, throwing up dark clots of soil to either side.
“Lens?” The alchemist’s voice was an inhuman rasp.
“We have it.” She took a step toward him then backed up again, preferring to keep a cautious distance. She didn’t like the way he was looking at her. “My husband found it. We need you. Now. Right now. To use it against the monster.”
The shrub struggled to stand upright. Its legs straightened with the sound of snapping twigs. Theodora realized she had interrupted some sort of bizarre woodsy transformation. Amalric’s fancy clothes had taken on a papery consistency more like bark than cloth. What had he been doing here? Taking root?<
br />
“Monster?” Amalric’s laughter was the sound of utter chaos, of music without meter, the screech of sea birds, a surging torrent of river water. The sound was like nothing Theodora had ever heard before. But the quality of that laugh was unmistakable. It was the banner anthem of insanity.
“My mother—my mother—is no monster, lady. And I hasten to point out your flagrant display of stark ingratitude. After all, she is your mother as well, Lady Changeling.”
“My mother’s name was Moon Dancer. She was a noble and dignified faery queen.”
“How very small-minded of you, my lady. How very tastelessly piquant. Agaranath-Shem is the mother of all faeries.”
“Mother or not, she’ll destroy everything when she comes. She’s said so. Is our mother a liar then too?”
“Destroy? Devastate, hallucinate, copulate? Is there a difference? She will take us back unto her bosom. As it was meant to be. She told me that, she promised me that, before I opened the way. Else I would not –I say I would not—have done it.”
“Done what exactly?”
“Opened the way for her. She comes, it’s true, walking the starry path I have laid out for her. That’s why you brought me here. That’s why you had me watch the skies for her. For her. It’s all part of the plan. Your plan.”
Theodora felt a painful stab of guilt. Was this her fault as well? But Amalric’s madness could not be laid at her doorstep alone. Threadneedle had misjudged this man entirely and Moon Dancer had approved his choice. But what did that matter now? Whoever was to blame, the result was disastrous. Not now. Not when we’re so close. It can’t all fall apart now.
“I brought you here to use the weapon. I brought you into this to destroy her.”
Amalric’s mouth gaped and that deep rumbling sound came again. “So you did.”
The alchemist attacked without warning. He leapt at Theodora with blinding speed, his hands flailing at her face. The tips of his fingers had grown pointed and stiff as the thorny branches of a tree in midwinter. He attacked like a child, scratching her face and pulling at her hair.
