Burning (Dark Powers Rising Book 1)

by Rebecca Fernfield

  “Who me?”

  “Yeah, you. We’ve all got to do it some time.”

  “No way! That’s women’s work,” he says, knowing just how to wind me up. I decide not to bite.

  “Well, if I do it, I get to keep the fur and I’ll stitch it into my collar,” I goad.

  He looks crestfallen and I can tell he’s weighing up the pros and cons before he’s interrupted.

  “Pascha, get those off the table please,” my mother scolds when she sees the creatures laid out, “leave them in the back. I’ll deal with them after dinner.”

  He sticks out his tongue. “Hah! You won’t be keeping the skin then,” he shouts back and runs from the room before I can clout him about the ears.

  ‘Shh!’ my mum reprimands as my father chuckles behind me. I turn to him smiling, before falling into his open arms and hugging him tightly. He greets me this way every time he returns from the outside. I take the warmth from his love, and wrap it around me, to keep with me always.

  “Your mother tells me you were in Tatley today,” he says, suddenly serious, still holding me in his embrace.

  “Yes, I … I had to go deeper into the town. There’s not much left round here so I thought that maybe there would be stuff there,” I say, pushing my head down into his chest, not wanting to meet his eyes, see his disapproval.

  “I understand, Edie,” he says, gently gripping my arms and pushing me back a little to look at me, “but it’s too dangerous down there. The gangs are fighting it out and-”

  “Yes, yes, I know the gangs are fighting and people are disappearing, but I can take care of myself,” I respond, not wanting him to think I’m weak, not wanting my freedom curtailed any more than it is.

  “Oh, yes?” he asks, arching his brow, a smile growing on his lips, but still serious. “I know you’re strong but you can’t fight them.”

  “I know that, but I know how to keep myself safe, stay hidden.”

  “Edie,” he says, tightening his grip slightly, “stay closer to home. Outside is dangerous and, down there,” he nods towards the direction of the lower town, “well, it’s just not safe, especially on your own.”

  “There was a child, dead,” I say, deflecting attention.

  “Yes, your mother said. If the others don’t get them disease and hunger do. Another reason not to go down there. You hear?” he says with finality and pulls me to him once again, hugging me tight.

  “OK,” I agree, reluctant.

  “Good,” he says, relieved. “Celeste,” he calls to my mother over my shoulder, “I’m going to sort out the catch with Teigan and check on the others before tea,” he finishes then turns and walks up the hallway and out of the front door. Frustration overcomes me and I run after him.

  “Dad! Dad, wait! I need to talk to you,” I call, keeping my voice low.

  “What is it love? I have to talk to Protector Teigan and the others about the patrols. Can’t it wait until I get back?”

  “No. It’s about the patrols,” I say, looking him straight in the eye. “I want to help. I want to be part of the patrols now. I’m old enough.”

  “Edie, you’re only seventeen and you-”

  I rise up. I know what he’s going to say. “I’m what? Only a girl? But I’m strong and quick, Dad. I can keep lookout just as well as any man,” I say in earnest, “and you need me out there. You can’t do it all.”

  He looks at me, his face serious, but there is a glint in his eyes and I hope he’s wavering. I’ve been begging for years to be allowed to join the patrol. I push again. “What do you want me to do? Sweep floors all day and clea-”

  “Hey! Edie. Now you’re being unfair. I know you’re strong and capable and as good as any of the men on patrol it’s just, it’s just that I want to keep you safe. The towns are dangerous, especially at night.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say, regretting my crassness, “but sitting inside night after night, there’s nothing to do, and I want to help so bad. I want to be useful and help protect us—just like you.”

  “I understand. Look,” he says, putting his hand on my shoulder, “after I’ve sorted out today’s catch and checked on the others and after our evening meal, we’ll talk. Let me think about it.” He smiles down at me then walks away into the dark.

  Back inside I keep busy in the dim kitchen, helping to skin and gut the rabbits. Pascha ties the legs of the pheasant and hangs it from a hook in the makeshift pantry that was once a laundry room—the gap where the useless washing machine stood stacked with baskets of any fruits and vegetables we can grow and kept fresh on the cold, bare floor.

  With dark descending, I light the fire in the living room; a black, cast-iron log burner, salvaged from one of the bombed houses, sits in place of the ripped out electric fire that had been stuck to the chimney breast. Swirling green tendrils and blown yellow roses sit torn at the edges of the ragged hole it sits in. The bare concrete at its base spattered with black and grey smudges of the charcoal and ash that spill out when we throw in the logs.

  Waiting for my father to return is hard. I’m impatient to know his decision. If he has even made a decision. Once the fire is lit, the orange glow spreads into the room and I sit before it, leaning into the soft velvet of the green sofa. Mesmerised by the dancing flames, I’m oblivious to everything but the growing warmth on my face. Images of the lifeless child clinging to the curls of its dead mother’s hair fill my thoughts and I wonder when it was that people stopped burying their dead in the lower town.

  My father doesn’t return for the evening meal.

  Chapter Four

  Hands grabbing at me haunt my dreams and I wake to the thin light leaking through my bedroom window, casting shadows of grey across the room, and the pit-pat of stones landing on the glass. I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed and walk to the window. The cold of the bare floorboards seeps through to my soles despite the socks I kept on last night, and pull back the curtains, their childish cartoon animals crushed together in pleats under my hand.

  It’s Robin.

  He meant ‘see you tomorrow’ then! My heart thuds as I remember how he bent down towards me at the door last night. Did he really want to kiss me? Perhaps I’ve just embarrassed myself by shutting the door on him so quickly! I wave and he beckons, face pale in the morning light. The worn blue jeans are cold on my bed-warmed skin and loose about my waist. I pull the belt in yet another notch to keep them from sagging. Perhaps I’ll find a smaller pair on the next search. I sniff the armpits of yesterday’s tee. The smell won’t be noticed under the layers. I pull it over my head followed by the roll neck, my skin warming even though my breath dances as a white mist.

  Apart from the gentle snores of my mother, the house is silent and I tread carefully down the stairs so as not to wake them. Robin grins at me when I open the door.

  “Are you coming?”

  “Coming where?”

  “To the town. To find some more stuff.”

  “Well, sure, but not Tatley. Dad said not there.”

  “Since when do you listen to your dad, Edie? Look, there’s still stuff to be got in Tatley. It’s not all picked over yet and if we go early enough we can get back in time,” he says, insistent. I’m hesitant. “Listen,” he continues, coaxing. “There was a house I went in, just before I saw you yesterday, it had loads of tinned food still in the cupboards.” I feel the sour growling of hunger in my stomach and the thought of helping to put food on the table is tempting, my resilience begins to fade. “There was even custard,” he adds, looking at me straight, widening his eyes and lifting his brows. “And,” he adds with emphasis, “rice pudding.” A crooked, playful smile brightens his face as he waits for my response.

  “You had me at custard,” I say with a small laugh. “Wait here. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  I hurry to the kitchen and pull on my boots, ignoring the cold that leaks from their soles through my thin socks, tie the frayed laces and write a quick note to my parents: ‘Gone out with Robin to
look for stuff’. I bite my lower lip and hold the pen to my cheek as I think of my next words. Dad told me not to go back to Tatley so I can’t tell them where I’m going. I add, ‘Back later’ and, in reassurance ‘- before sundown. Love Edie xxx’ then prop it against the teapot in the middle of the scrubbed wooden table. I zip up my hooded canvas jacket, slip the straps of my khaki rucksack over my shoulders, and pull my woollen hat low on my head against the growing bitterness of winter’s cold. I’m ready. Robin smiles as I open the door, his eyes searching my face, and a tingle of fright rushes over me as I recognise the look of desire there.

  Joshua is already on duty. He’s used to us coming and going to visit the towns so simply nods, unlocks the iron gates and pulls them open as we reach him. I slip through the gap, quickly, quietly, not daring to look back, not wanting to see accusing eyes watching me sneak away. Keeping a light tread, I run to the bend in the road where I’ll be safe, hidden from sight, away from the houses of the compound.

  The frost of night is white on the ground as we walk down the steep hill towards the lower town, and my shins ache with the effort. Robin walks close beside me, his breathing relaxed, his steps in time with mine. I think of last night. Would he really have kissed me? There. On the doorstep? We talk, but in the quiet spaces, as we pass empty house after empty house, I imagine standing on the doorstep with him again. He would bend gently down towards me and I would tilt my head up to him. I am lost to the tenderness of his lips as they press against mine, warm and gentle, and an ache begins to spread through me.

  “Edie!”

  I’m suddenly aware again and shocked at my own thoughts and my body’s powerful reaction to them. Can he tell what I’m thinking? Shame stings my cheeks.

  “Yes,” I answer, staring out at the deadness of the houses, hiding my eyes, hiding my shame.

  “You deaf or something?”

  “Sorry! I was just thinking.”

  “Thinking about what?”

  “Just stuff.”

  “Well, whatever it was, you were away with the fairies,” he laughs.

  “I wish!” I reply. “Wouldn’t have to live here then.”

  The day is beautiful in its crispness and the sun shines on the frosted leaves, but the bleakness of the ravaged town, the bombed and burned out houses, make my heart sink with their drab decay.

  He nods his head low and sighs. “Yeah, I know what you mean, but there’s nothing we can do to change things, so we’ve just got to get on and look after ourselves.”

  “But it has to be different one day!” I burst out, tears suddenly pricking my eyes, shocked at the sudden wave of emotion that overwhelms me.

  “Hey!” Robin stops and turns to me, putting his arm on my shoulder. “Where did that come from?”

  A tear wells in my eye and slips, solitary, over the curl of my dark lashes, its warmth quickly turning chill on my cold cheek. I don’t reply, just cast my eyes downwards to hide my emotion.

  “Edie,” he says, pulling me to him, “it’s ok. You’re ok. It will change. I promise,” he soothes, his words muffled as he presses my head to his chest.

  Even through the thick winter layers of his clothes, I can feel the thud of his beating heart and take comfort from him. I don’t want to stand here a blubbering wreck, snotting all over his coat, so I calm myself.

  “I’m ok. I’m fine,” I lie.

  None of us are ‘ok’ or ‘fine’, but self-pity won’t help me and I don’t want him to think I’m weak. I try to pull away, suddenly awkward, but he holds me there. My heart thuds harder as I feel him looking at me, his eyes taking me in and gasp at the tingle of excitement that runs through me as he tips my chin up with his gloved hand, my body suddenly alive. I don’t turn this time, but close my eyes and wait. The warmth of his face strokes mine as he bends forwards and a flutter of desire waves over me as he leans in. He presses his warm lips to mine with such gentleness that I could live in the feeling forever. The houses, the bleakness, the cold biting at my toes all melt away and there is nothing but the sweetness of his kiss. He pulls away and I am heady with desire. We stand facing each other, silent, speechless, overwhelmed.

  “So, that’s what it’s like,” I whisper, still wrapped in our gentle passion.

  “Was that your first kiss then?” he asks, quietly.

  “Yes … yes, it was,” I reply, feeling a little foolish, looking down at the ground again.

  “Good!” he says, and gently tips my chin to him again, forcing me to look into his eyes. “Me too.”

  Our eyes lock in recognition and we smile together, knowing that this moment will live with us both, connect us both, forever.

  Deeper in the town, the bleakness become oppressive and the long-looted shops of Tatley sit dark and empty, but it’s the houses we need if we’re to find anything useful. In the distance I notice movement, grab at Robin’s coat sleeve, and pull him to the side of the path, towards the fractured glass of what was once a butcher’s shop.

  “Robin! Up there. Look. People.” He stops and peers down the dead road ahead. “They went behind that overturned lorry.”

  A lorry, skewed headless into a broken and burnt out storefront, lays along the length of the broad main street. We stand, watching, waiting for movement. Two figures appear and step out onto the road, their clothes drab, heads down, rucksacks slack and empty, low on their backs. I feel the tension drain from him.

  “It’s just Daniel and Liza,” he says, relief strong in his voice, and strides forward, waving his arm silently in the air to catch their attention. “Come on Edie, let’s catch them up.”

  I quicken my pace to keep up with his, the knot in my stomach easing with each step.

  “Which part of town are you searching today?” Robin asks as we reach the pair.

  “We’re on our way to Tatley. That’s where you went yesterday wasn’t it Edie?” I nod in agreement. “Saw your bagful and thought we should give it a go too,” Daniel answers, his blue eyes searching mine, the fabric of his khaki jacket scratching as he tugs at the straps of his rucksack, black hair flattened against his face by his woollen hat.

  “Yeah, I did but,” I stall, my father’s warning sounding again in my ears, “it’s not safe,” I warn. “Perhaps we should try somewhere else.”

  “No way!” interrupts Robin, frowning down at me. I’m taken aback by the terseness of his voice and the look of brittle annoyance. “There are houses there still with food; and we need food!”

  “Yeah, sure there are,” I respond, defensive, “but there’s disease too and those gangs. There was a dead child laying with its moth-”

  “We’ve all seen the dead, Edie,” Liza interrupts sharply, a frown creasing her brow, stopping me as though she doesn’t want to be confronted with the image, “the dead can’t hurt us,” she finishes, brushing at a wisp of blonde hair with her gloved hand.

  “No, but … but if that other gang hadn’t turned up yesterday I would’ve lost everything to those Snatchers.” I know I shouldn’t be going down to the lower town, even if there is food, and feel suddenly responsible for Liza and Daniel, and even Robin.

  “What other gang?” she asks, the blue of her eyes bright with fear. Robin nudges me and presses down on my foot with his heel, warning me to keep quiet. I frown in confusion and annoyance. How can this boy, who had kissed me so gently, now be pushing me about?

  “Oh, just another gang of Snatchers. They scared the gang that were trying to take my bag off me,” I lie. Guilt begins to gnaw as I remember my father’s words, ‘Outside is dangerous and, down there, it’s just not safe.’

  “But you came back home with your bag,” Daniel says, confused, pulling at the strap of his empty rucksack. The pressure on my toes increases as Robin’s heel pushes down again.

  “Yeah, when they scared them off I ran and hid. That’s when Robin caught up with me and we both went back home.”

  Daniel seems satisfied with my answer and I don’t offer further explanation. He turns to speak to Rob
in. “Look. I’m not stupid. I know it’s dangerous, but how is it any more dangerous than it has ever been?” It’s not a question he wants an answer for. “Tatley is too good to leave. We all need to help put food on the table,” he adds, his words heartfelt.

  I nod in understanding. Food is scarce. Sure, we grow what we can in the gardens at home, but the rest we have to find in the woods, or in the houses that haven’t been picked over.

  “So Tatley it is then,” Liza adds, as the cold winter sun catches sparkles on the blondeness of her hair.

  “Yep, Tatley it is then!” Robin agrees.

  We walk together across the town centre, alert for movement ahead, noises behind, any clues that other people are about, but there’s nothing, and when we get to Tatley we agree to split up to search and make our own way back home, sacks full, at the end of the day.

  Alone again I challenge Robin. “Why didn’t you want to tell Daniel and Liza about those men, the ones who took that girl?”

  “They’ll tell, that’s why. Then we won’t be able to come here anymore and there’s too much stuff to leave for them.” I get it, his desire to stay free so that we can help provide and not wanting to let the Snatchers have what we need, but it doesn’t stop the guilt.

  The fractured plate glass of gutted shops gives way to the smaller windows of bare-shelved butchers and boutiques. Brittle mannequins, long since stripped naked, skin cracked and peeling under the harsh strokes of winter’s frost, stare at me, unseeing, oblivious to their own decay. I shiver under their stare and pull the tab of my zipper higher and thrust my hands deep into my pockets, picking up my step to move away quicker. Ahead of us the road begins to rise and lines of terraced houses squat along the hillside.

  The day passes quickly as we pass from house to house looking for food in tins or dehydrated in packets. All else is rotted, inedible. The shadows are elongating as we leave yet another house and I get that familiar cramp of fear in my belly as I think of the journey home, of getting back through the gathering dinge.