“And yet?”
And yet, I didn’t want to face the alternative, the life where I tried to repair bonds with Julia, and stayed with her until I learned enough to make it on my own. The life where I accepted I would never see my friends again, and tried to forget Demitra’s revelation that Penny was slowly but surely letting monsters filter into our world. The life where I ignored the fact I’d grown up in a parallel world for an unknown reason, and understood I would never know the truth.
“Andrew?”
“Mm?”
“Anna isn’t like Harriet, is she? She’s…normal?”
Andrew gave a dry laugh. “Yes. Although I’m not entirely sure how ‘normal’ can be defined anymore. Or what she might be hiding. Why?”
I just shrugged, not wanting to worry him. Not when there wasn’t anything to be done about it.
After a good while of aimless wondering, we found an empty bench outside a derelict café. We sat and I picked up one of the pamphlets papered to the seat, blotted and crumpled with wear, a strong red caption screaming: Hitler will send no warning—so always carry your gas mask!
We’d had these at the school, and everyone hated carrying theirs around. Most people on the streets carried theirs in little brown boxes at their side, and suddenly, I felt awfully exposed for having left mine behind. It was like a virus, the fear of war: it hadn’t bothered me for most of my time here, but all of a sudden, I could feel the paranoia seeping into me, all consuming. That mechanical birds—planes—would come from the cruel land across the sea and kill everyone with a single push of a button. That the older men in smart uniform would snatch Fred and the other boys away from me the second I saw them again and throw them into one of those very planes to drop similar bombs on other people. That any moment, Demitra and Deio would come for me and push me in front of an oncoming car, or put a bullet in my brain and curl my fingers around the trigger. I remembered being back at Boundary with Demitra, and seeing it all materialize out of the mist. The peacefulness of the ancient trees, the soft and crumbling brick of the manor, the laughter of harmless tricks played on one another…I never wanted to leave. Why did it have to be me?
“Selfishly, I’m glad it was,” Andrew said, and I realized I’d spoken aloud.
I shook my head vehemently. “You didn’t know me then. I was…” Stupid? Ignorant? Shallow?
Happy?
“I was speaking to someone else before I called Mum.” Andrew spoke again after I remained silent. “The librarian found her number for me. She thinks I’m doing research for a census or something. Anyway, I’m hoping you know who Beatrix Farrington is?”
“Was,” I corrected, tears prickling in my eyes at the mention of her name.
“I found her sister.”
“You did?” It was strange to think Beatrix had a family outside Boundary. “What did she tell you?”
“Nothing important, unfortunately.” Andrew cringed as a woman shouted at him from across the street, something along the lines of ‘coward’. “She’s in her sixties, training as a nurse at the moment in Kent. I tried ringing her, but the line was dead, so I’ll have to try again later. Maybe it’s a long shot, but better than nothing. Every connection counts, right?”
I pictured her name struck off that list, her black gravestone covered with snow, slowly sinking into the earth…
“Why are you doing this?” I asked, pulling my feet onto the bench and hugging my knees to my chest. I was freezing, wearing only a shirt, thin overcoat, skirt, and worn silk stockings. Here in the shade, there was even frost on the ground.
“I’m sorry.” His face fell. “I shouldn’t have brought her up.”
“No, not that.” I wound a strand of hair around my finger, as tightly as possible. “Why are you helping me? This has nothing to do with you, and it’s just causing you trouble. We’re dealing with murderers, Andrew.”
“Because I want to.”
I sighed. It wasn’t the answer I was looking for, but I didn’t want to push too far. I didn’t want him to realize that perhaps he’d be better off leaving me alone. It was selfish of me, but old habits died hard; I hated the idea of having to go through anything by myself.
“You’re shivering up a storm over there,” he remarked.
I scowled but didn’t correct him. It wasn’t as if there was anything to be done about it; I had nowhere to go, no money to buy extra clothes, and nothing for food. Like in the sea, I had to try to embrace the cold, let the numbness spread…
“Have you, though? Missed me? You haven’t done anything to try to bring us back. They nearly gave up on you, Evelyn.”
I stood up so fast that a thread from my skirt wrapped around a nail in the bench, causing it to tear. I unhooked it. “What are we doing?” I asked, throwing my arms around in desperation. A lady who had been walking towards us with her children hastily crossed the street. “There has to be something we can do, anything! I’m not ready to give up just yet, I’m—”
“It’s not giving up,” Andrew interjected gently. “Not when you’ve reached a dead end.”
“Have we, though? Reached a dead end?” I shook my head despairingly, wishing I could come up with ideas the way the others had been able to do. “Surely there has to be some way to back out and start again, find a new lead. Demitra said they’re going to destroy themselves if we wait any longer.”
Andrew’s face grew stony. “Demitra is a murderer. She was lying to you.”
I shook my head again, and began to pace. “She wasn’t lying. Not then, anyway. I have powers, Andrew, I just don’t know how to use them safely. I could make a difference, I just…” I trailed off, another memory pulling itself back into the light.
“I can see you’re still beyond reason. I’ll let you be for now if you promise to push Demitra about your past. She’s evasive because she has so much to hide. Secrets that would send you running back to me.”
I hated it. I hated the thought that Madon was right. I hated what it would force me to do. But I’d only seen one side of the story, and despite how unpleasant I was certain the other side would be, it was better than giving up. All I had to do was hear him out, no promises, no allegiance.
“Evelyn?” Andrew frowned at me, probably confused by the strange look that had come over my face. “What is it?”
“He killed Beatrix,” I said slowly, “and I would never ever work with him. But he might have answers.”
“What are you talking about?” He was worried now.
“Madon,” I said, cringing at the name.
“You can’t be serious.”
“Just this once, I think I am.”
“You’re mad.”
“Possibly.”
Now it was Andrew’s turn to get to his feet, pacing up and down the sidewalk with his ungainly limp. “Do you have a death wish? You might as well just go back to the Farthings for all the good that will do. You told me what he was like with you inside Boundary, what makes you think he’ll be any different here?”
I inhaled through my teeth, ignoring the part of me that agreed with him. “Demitra used the Rips to torture. Just like him. Back in Boundary, it was they who started the fire, which trapped Fred. Deio made Avery stab Tressa. They created a word puzzle to distract Lucas. The only reason they helped Penny was because she’s their sister, and the most likely to join with them after she escaped. I don’t think Madon was as in control as he led us to believe, and that just might be the key to everything. He knows I hate him, so he doesn’t have my trust to lose if he tells me the truth.”
There, I’d said it. I’d either summoned the courage to free my friends, or I’d deluded myself to the point of suicide.
For what seemed like a very long time, Andrew didn’t say anything. His flaxen hair, in desperate need of cutting, was half obscuring his face thanks to the bitter wind. No matter how hard I scrutinized him, I had no idea what was running through his mind.
“All right,” he said finally. There was no humour in his t
one, nothing light. “But I’m going home.” I started to protest, but he held up his hand and continued. “Not because I’m abandoning you, but because I want you to come back with me. We’ll take a break from all this madness, celebrate Christmas just like ordinary people, and then take it from there. You need a chance to think. We both do.”
My eyes fell on the posters covering the bench again, like dead leaves in the autumn. Yes, I desperately wanted some normality again, even if it was with a family who probably hated me now. I wanted Julia’s comfort, Kitty’s goodwill, and James’s innocence to surround me, not the negativity of the Farthings and Madon. The reality, however, was that I didn’t have the time. Of that I was certain. This wasn’t a game I could opt out of at will.
“Okay.” I forced a smile, shuffling my feet to keep warm and wishing that I had some gloves. “Um, I suppose you’ll need to pack?”
He nodded. “I know we didn’t bring much, but everything counts nowadays.”
“My things are back at their flat.”
“But maybe exceptions can be made,” he added. “Do you want to come back with me? I think I have some of Mum’s humbugs sitting in a pocket there, if you’re hungry.”
It wasn’t really a question. Where else would I go?
I feigned another smile. “Do you have enough money left for a bus?”
“No. But we’ll find a way.”
We made our way back down the street in a heavy, contemplative silence. Inwardly, though, I was shouting, throwing all the emotion I could into each word.
I know this is crazy, but I need you to call Madon. I don’t know if this will work, but he said it would, so…call him. Call Madon.
Chapter Eighteen
I barely recognized the girl in the mirror. It was cracked, grimy, and cast with appallingly dim light, which didn’t help her case, but I had a feeling it wasn’t lying by much. Her black hair hung limply around her shoulders, the curls dragged down by weeks of inattention. Her clothes were shabby and dirty, her complexion sallow and unhealthy. Her eyes looked massive against protruding cheekbones: she was far too thin for what was considered attractive. Her name was Evelyn Stuart, but I didn’t know her.
Andrew was in trouble with the innkeeper. He’d come up a few shillings too short, and she wasn’t letting him into his room until he’d found the money. I’d heard her threaten to call the police.
I was in the lobby doing nothing. My head was pounding with excruciating force, and I had nothing to add to Andrew and the innkeeper’s argument. If anything, I was glad for the stall: I wanted to wait until I was certain my call to Madon had failed. My gut feeling was that going back to the farm was wrong, and every obstacle that got in our way seemed to be fate’s method of agreeing. What if I was leading the Farthings right back to Anna and Harriet? What if, what if, what if…
I tore myself away from my reflection, disgusted.
I kept throwing anxious glances to the hotel doors. Any minute, Demitra or Deio could come bursting in, realizing that I was contemplating switching sides, and kill me before I had a chance to do such a thing. Or worse, Madon. Half of me hoped my message had been futile.
“Miss, are you all right?” A young woman, heavily pregnant, came tottering down the stairs towards the doors. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”
“I’m fine,” I said unconvincingly, clenching my fists to stop them from shaking. “Really.”
She gave me a sympathetic smile. “My husband’s in North Africa. Left just a week before I realized we were having a baby. They’ll be home soon, though. Next Christmas, it’ll all be different.”
It took me far too long to realize she was referring to the war. She hurried on.
I sat down on the floor, with my back pushed up against the grimy inn wall. Andrew was fully immersed in his conversation with the innkeeper, the two of them growing louder by the second, and without much sign of stopping anytime soon. So I closed my eyes.
I dreamt of a cliff somewhere, enveloped in a thick fog so that the bottom was shielded from view… There were voices from the other side of the chasm, pleading for me to jump, but I knew that I could never make it—it was too far and I couldn’t see them. Behind me, something was coming, but I couldn’t turn around, transfixed as I was to the voices from the other side screaming for me to jump.
Evelyn! Evelyn! You have to come!
One eye flickered open. The shouts were so loud.
Evelyn?
Or more of a whisper, actually. So close that I had to whip my head around to make sure there was no one standing directly behind me in the wall. No. Andrew was still engaged with the innkeeper, and the lobby was otherwise deserted. I must have dreamed it.
Evelyn.
I leapt to my feet, glancing about wildly. The voice was speaking right in my ear, but there was absolutely nobody around whom it could have been.
Evelyn.
It was drifting away now. Without thinking, I took a step forward, searching. Yes, there it was, whispering away by the door. When it began fading again, I followed it out of the door, not even pausing to tell Andrew where I was going—I didn’t really know myself.
I was halfway down the street before I realized that it was probably Madon’s doing. I was totally unarmed and alone (not that I knew how to defend myself anyway). The whispers grew louder as I hesitated, so squashing any reservations, I followed them away from the heart of the bustle. Away from the more affluent commercial district into an area of ugly, cheap townhouses, littered with rubbish and narrow alleys. Night had nearly fallen, turning the sky a deep navy and plunging the temperatures to near freezing, but I was at the point where I couldn’t get any colder. Perhaps that was why I wasn’t afraid; I was just numb.
Evelyn?
I must have walked for two to three miles. The soles of my feet were beginning to ache. The whispers finally stopped around an abandoned children’s playground, consisting of a metal slide and swing set in the middle of a leafy park. There weren’t any streetlamps nearby, and once I stopped near the swings, I noticed exactly how dark it was.
At last, I began to panic.
“Oh, no.” The whispers had faded, and feeling was flooding back. “Blast…” I began to shiver.
I began walking as fast as I could back to the road, wondering why I’d let the voices carry me this far into nowhere, when I noticed the silhouette of another person rapidly making their way towards me.
It wasn’t Madon. Madon had a certain elegance in the way he moved, and this man (he was wearing trousers) possessed none of that.
I tried to concentrate and feel for the Others, but I was too scared to think coherently. Anyway, what would I make them do?
Oh Lord, he was getting closer. He must have called me here, somehow, but I didn’t want to talk to him. Not here, not without anything or anyone for protection.
As casually as possible, I turned and began walking across the park in the opposite direction. Then the panic took over and I began running.
“Evelyn, wait!”
How did he know my name? He was probably working for Madon, like Bella and her sisters had been. What if he was working for the Farthings?
My shoes were slipping off, so I kicked them away and kept running barefoot. I could hear the rapid footsteps of him chasing me, and by the sound of it, gaining ground. The road wasn’t too far away now, and I could see the hazy figures of people moving about in their homes…
Think.
My stockinged feet slipped on a frosty patch of grass, and I was thrown ungracefully to the ground. The man skidded to a halt behind me, panting just as much as I was.
“Get away!” I screamed, struggling back up. ‘I’ll…I’ll…”
“For God’s sake, I’m not going to—”
I didn’t wait around to hear. Kicking out I caught his leg and tripped him up. I heard him cry out in shock and pain. I jumped to my feet and not looking back, continued running.
He didn’t follow, but shouted, somewhat dejecte
dly, “Evelyn, please! Don’t you recognize me?”
Something in his voice stopped me. My heart was hammering so fast it was a wonder I was still alive, and every muscle in my body tensed up, as I prepared to flee again. Against my better judgement, I turned around and faced him.
He was dressed head-to-toe in strangely fashionable black clothing, tall and wiry without being particularly thin or muscular, and was somewhat in between. His hair was dark brown, much too long for the style of today, and hung limply around an almost-but-not-quite-handsome face.
He came closer, carefully, as though I was a deer or some frightened animal who was about to bolt.
The moment I saw his eyes I knew.
“Hello, Avery,” I whispered.
PART TWO
Chapter Nineteen
“Impossible. You can’t…this isn’t…why would you…?” I choked in between a sudden onslaught of tears. “Avery!”
“Believe it.” He smiled weakly. “Why are you the one breaking down? I’m the one who has to deal with all this futuristic madness.”
This only made me cry harder, hanging on to him as if I’d never let go. Everything that had been happening in my life suddenly seemed insignificant. Avery was here. Nothing else mattered.
“You’ve grown taller,” I said with a watery grin, sniffing and hiccupping at the same time.
“That’s what you notice?” He feigned hurt. “Not the newly revised wardrobe or the length of my hair? Besides, I should bloody well hope that I’m not the same height I was a year ago.” I made a noise halfway between a laugh and a sob. Finally, I drew away, surveying him fully. He was certainly much, much taller, and his voice was quite a bit deeper. He was harder somehow, less boyish. But still Avery. Still Avery.
My mouth opened and closed, the sheer number of questions I needed to ask clogging up my ability to speak. Why, who, how…
I slipped my shoes back on and we drifted back towards the swings as the curtains of the surrounding houses began to twitch. We sat down on the damp wooden seats, letting the wind push us gently back and forth.
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