“Don’t, Erika,” he said from behind his fingers. “Don’t start. You don’t know me. You’ll never know me.” His voice broke as he shook his head. “I’m sorry. Very sorry. Good night.”
He turned away, still shielding his mouth, and hurried down the hall. Erika backed into her bedroom. With the door shut and her body safely in bed, enveloped by moonlight and feather blankets and cold midnight air, she let the humiliation swallow her whole.
Shawn flailed when he woke, because he couldn’t remember where he was. He stared wide-eyed at Rebecca, who sat at the base of an old poplar and looked at her brother as if he’d lost his mind.
“What time is it?”
“I don’t know,” Rebecca said.
“It’s not any brighter out.”
“Yeah, I saw.”
Shawn’s eyes narrowed. “Do you have to be so sarcastic?”
“No, why?”
He shook his head, stretched with a yawn, then forced himself to his knees. “Is Megan up yet?”
“She went to find someplace to use the bathroom. What are we going to do?”
“Do you really expect an answer?”
“I’m back,” Meg announced, overloud.
Rebecca held out her hand and waited for Megan to come and curl up at her side. She pressed the warmth of her little sister close against her and stared through the darkness at Shawn. Her heart beat hard, and she hoped that Megan couldn’t tell. Take care of your sister, her mother had always said, and though no one thought she listened, Megan meant more to Rebecca than anything else. She couldn’t let Meg know how frightened she was, how nauseated she felt, and as she stared down Shawn, she dared him to say anything about it. But Shawn had always been a better sibling. Had always been the responsible one. Rebecca dropped a kiss into Megan’s hair and tried to keep her hands from shaking. She didn’t know how they’d gotten here, but she didn’t want to think about it. She would put her fear into anger and her anger on someone else’s shoulders. It had always worked before.
“Let’s go,” Shawn said.
Megan’s voice came out frightened. “Go where?”
Rebecca tightened her arm around Megan and leveled another glare at Shawn, waiting for him to answer.
“Home,” Shawn said. He was lying.
It was easy for Rebecca to see that he was lying. None of them knew where home was, or if they could even get there. She pushed herself to her feet, her fingers holding fast to Megan’s hand. She’d pretend alongside Shawn that they knew what was going on, but only because the alternative would be too hard on Meg. Take care of your sister, came her mother’s voice, like a mantra, from the time she was eleven and her parents had filed for divorce. Take care of your sister. There was no other option.
The queen was still waiting when her husband came back into the hall. The baby lay cradled in his arms, asleep.
“A girl?”
“A boy,” he said.
Her hope faded. She turned away.
“You’re keeping him, then.”
“Yes.”
“Fine.” She folded her hands to stop them from shaking. “Fine, fine, fine.”
“You’ll learn to love him.”
“I’m not your slut,” the queen replied thinly. “I can’t love on command.”
Her husband only stared at her sharp, straight back.
“I want to leave this house in the morning,” she said after a pause. “You’ve kept me here long enough. With her. You’ll do as you promised.”
“She gave me a son,” the king whispered.
“She gave you a bastard. Now be a doting father and take it to the nursery.”
When her husband had gone, the queen went into the bedroom and took the midwife by the arm.
“Madam?”
“Send her away. To the Colonies. Tonight.”
The midwife continued to dry her hands on her apron.
“She’s gone, madam,” she said. “They’ve gathered the ash already.”
The queen recoiled.
“What?”
“She broke.”
The midwife said nothing else before leaving the room. When she was alone, the queen went over to the bed and pulled back the curtains. Empty. She crawled in and pressed the sheets against her face as she sank into the soft mattress. The sticky smell of sweat lingered in the air. For the first time in nine months, the queen let her panic drain away.
They’d been walking for so long that Rebecca’s calves were sore, but the woods were still steeped in the dull colors of twilight. The fog made her pajamas damp, and when she tried to wipe away the ashes, she only managed to spread them. Shawn walked beside her, Megan asleep against his shoulder. Rebecca thought that he must be following her lead, and she let it annoy her. Her stomach grumbled and her throat hurt, so she let that annoy her too. She fought hard not to wonder where they were, or how they’d gotten there. It was easier to focus on small, insignificant things. On the slow burn of her muscles or the spinning in her head. On the way Shawn refused to talk to her.
She kept replaying scenes from the last few days, and each time Shawn’s words cut deeper. She hated fighting with him, and she hated when he judged her. Worse, she hated the way their arguments ran through her mind like a looped photo reel. For God’s sake, control yourself. Again, again, again.
Still. Anything was better than reevaluating her sanity — that’s why she spent so much energy in building up her shell. The party girl. The bitch. The flippant sister. She wore her masks like a second skin because she couldn’t handle living in her real body. Before she’d created this exoskeleton, the whole world had judged her. Now they just judged a face that wasn’t really hers.
“We should stop,” Shawn said. “Megan’s too heavy.”
Rebecca shrugged. She was tired anyway.
Shawn laid Megan down next to a group of trees, hovering to make sure she was still asleep. Rebecca turned her back to him and peered into the woods.
“I can’t believe this,” she said.
Shawn got to his feet. “Can’t believe what?”
The sharpness of his voice startled her. She hadn’t counted on that. Now that he no longer had to worry about jostling Megan, his own train of thought from their march threatened to break the surface.
Rebecca braced herself.
“Can’t believe,” he went on, “that I won’t click my heels together and get us home?”
“That’s not —”
He grabbed Rebecca’s arm and pulled her farther into the woods, out of earshot of Megan. “I’m tired too, Becca,” he said, voice low. “I’m particularly tired of you expecting me to swoop in and save the day. Believe me, I wish that I could get us out of here. You think that I don’t feel responsible for you and Megan?”
Rebecca stiffened. “You’re not responsible for me, Shawn.”
“Well,” he shot back, “someone has to be.”
Rebecca could tell that he’d been rehearsing this speech for a while. She held her ground and waited for an opening.
“You certainly refuse to be responsible for yourself,” Shawn said. “Even now. You just keep following me like you expect us to turn the corner and see the goddamn high school. Look, I’m sorry to break it to you, but I’m not as brilliant as you think I am. I don’t know where we are, I don’t know why we’re here, and I have no idea how to get us out. Are you happy now? I don’t know. I don’t know. For the first time in my whole life, I can’t save you from something. I’m so sorry.”
Rebecca scowled. “Don’t be sarcastic with me.”
“Don’t tell me what to do, Rebecca.”
“I’ll tell you what to do if I feel like it, and you’d better fucking listen because I saved your ass enough times when we were kids. And stop assuming that I see you as my own personal Jesus Christ. I haven’t been following you.”
“You know,” Shawn said, “if Mom were here right now, she’d agree with me. She keeps hoping that you’ll grow up someday, and you keep disappointing her.
”
“For the last time, Shawn, Mom’s not hoping for anything right now because she’s dead.”
“Dammit, Becca, are we back to this again? Then how do you want to explain it? How can you make yourself feel better?”
“Shut up.”
“How do you want to explain it?”
“Well, then, where is she? Not here, obviously. So stop it. Stop it and help me find the way home.”
Shawn’s eyes widened and he let out an exasperated laugh. “Oh my God,” he said. “You’re insane!”
Rebecca slapped him.
They stood watching each other in the thin light, Shawn stunned, Rebecca glaring. Shawn’s instinct was to touch the stinging skin of his cheek, but he refused to give his sister the satisfaction. Instead, he ran his tongue along his gums, checking for blood, and stayed quiet.
“Never call me that again,” Rebecca said, her voice low and barely steady.
“What the hell is your problem?”
Rebecca took a step back and felt her shell begin to splinter. “Oh, right,” she said with sarcasm. “I have problems. I have problems and my brother thinks that I’m a fuck-up. I’m sorry, I forgot.” Her body started to tremble with the effort of keeping herself reasonable. “Don’t you think that I had enough of that after the divorce, Shawn?” Her voice crept higher as she mocked her classmates: “‘Oh my God, Becca Stripling had a screaming fit because some kids were teasing her brother!’ ‘No! You should tell the principal, because Becca’s not stable and something could happen! Didn’t you hear? She’s seeing a shrink. She tried to run away from home. She’s on pills so she won’t kill herself.’” Rebecca looked straight into Shawn’s eyes. “‘Oh my God, she’s so insane!’”
He didn’t know what to say.
Hot, angry tears started to slip down Rebecca’s cheeks. “I’m not going back to that. I don’t know how to explain what’s happened, but I do know that you’re wrong. And I know that I’m not the crazy one here, because crazy people think that they can talk to their dead parents, and crazy people look at a creepy-ass forest and assume that they’ve found the land of the dead. I loved Mom too, Shawn, but she is gone and it’s over, so just give up. I wasn’t crazy back then, and I’m not crazy now, so don’t you dare tell me that I am.”
“Rebecca —”
She shook her head, turned, and stalked off.
Shawn hesitated before starting after her.
“Becca, wait. I’m sorry.” He caught her by the arm. “I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
He held her at arm’s length and looked her in the eye. “You’re not crazy, and I don’t think that you’re a fuck-up.”
“Yes, you do,” she said. “And stop trying to be funny.” She wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand.
“We can’t be like this, Rebecca,” Shawn said. “Not in front of Megan.”
“Megan’s asleep.”
“Not while we’re lost.”
Rebecca shrugged. “At least this way, no one else can see what bitches we are.”
“Dammit, I just don’t want to fight. Is that too much to ask?”
“Well, why don’t you just ask it?” Rebecca shook off Shawn’s hands and stared at him. “Fine,” she said. “I’m sorry too. Even though I have nothing to apologize for.” She held up her palms. “Kidding.”
“I didn’t realize that the kids at school hurt you so much.”
She gave him a look that said Really? but then paused and turned away. Shawn was thinking of how his own life had changed after the divorce. He’d never gone to counseling, never blamed himself for it. He’d blamed his mother for taking so long, and blamed his father for putting her through so much. Kids had teased him, true, but even back then he couldn’t see why it upset Rebecca so much. The question that had haunted him then, and that still bothered him now, was a simple one: Hadn’t he loved his father at all? It used to keep him up nights, and used to make him shut down in class or during lunch with his friends. It used to fill him up, demanding to know why he was so happy to have lost a piece of his family. He had always been upset about how little the divorce had cut him.
“Rebecca,” Shawn began, trying to put these thoughts into words. He’d never talked about it before, to anyone. He wondered how she would react. “When it happened, I —”
“Hush.”
Shawn blinked at her, wounded. “What?”
Rebecca put a hand over his mouth and tipped her head to the side. “Listen.”
“I don’t hear anything.”
She tightened her fingers.
They saw the apparition before Shawn heard it — a swirl of blue-black smoke drifting just above the forest floor. And then the skin began to sweep over it, dripping into place like thick house paint.
“Meg,” Rebecca hissed, and ran back to where their sister lay sleeping.
Shawn stood transfixed. He watched as the figure flickered. The emerging face warped, the build of the chest and arms changed like putty. The fingers flexed, sliding out and back, longer and shorter. All the while, the thing itself slid forward, edging closer.
“Shawn!”
He spun around and saw Rebecca holding Megan against her chest. A long, low growl rippled through the woods behind him, prickling the hair along the nape of his neck. Rebecca’s eyes were wide, her jaw slack with shock. Shawn couldn’t help it; he looked back at the figure.
It was a man with straight, dark hair and a self-satisfied grin. He brought up one hand and held his fingers together, prepared to snap. There came a crack, like a gunshot, and the ground shook. Shawn lost his balance. His palms dug into the bed of fallen pinecones and needles and he cursed.
A dog howled behind him, the sound deep and guttural. It was answered by a chorus of barks and growls. Shawn scrambled to his feet and ran for Rebecca. He grabbed her forearm. She stumbled.
“Megan!”
“She’s awake!” Shawn yelled back. “Put her down!”
Megan staggered as she touched the ground, but then took off ahead of them. As soon as the kids started running, the pack’s hesitation broke with a hungry snarl. The kids heard the eager sounds of paws hitting earth, of claws scattering top-soil, and the fear went straight to their blood.
Megan let out a whimper as she pushed herself harder. Shawn drew on his memories of track and field and forced his legs to keep pumping, but it was a joke. He’d trained for one season his freshman year and hadn’t run since. Besides, he’d been used as a sprinter. Even while training, he couldn’t keep going for long. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Rebecca lag. She sucked in sharp, frustrated gasps of air, one hand against her chest.
Behind her, the dogs’ coats glistened silver. Mouths open, eyes gleaming. Not dogs, surely, Shawn thought. Too big to be dogs. Too big to be wolves.
“Keep going, Meg,” he shouted, though he didn’t need to remind her. He dropped back and snatched Rebecca’s arm. “Breathe! Run!”
Rebecca looked back and shrieked. The dogs must be close, he realized, and there must be a lot of them. One of them lunged and snapped at his ankle, then pulled back, only to return for another try. Shawn leaped and ran harder. He was almost to Rebecca and Megan. They were slowing down too much. Maybe if he stopped or veered off, he could occupy the dogs long enough for his sisters to get away. But get away to where?
A yelp snapped up from behind as some of the dogs surged forward to make a wide arc around the siblings. They were circling, winding up their catch. Toying with their prey before the kill.
Megan screamed as she tripped, hands splayed in a baseball dive. There were fallen trees in front of her, making a low barrier, and she scrambled to her knees and started to drag herself over. Rebecca pushed her the rest of the way, dropping heavily to the ground beside her and wrapping her arms around her sister’s thin waist. She tucked her head over Megan’s shoulder and cocooned her. She’d protect her as long as she could.
Shawn stopped in front of the wall of trees and
turned back to face the things that chased him. The raspy panting of the dogs was the only sound in the forest.
The figure materialized fully, a tall gentleman in a cape the color of mulberries. He came forward without a smile but with a stride that said he owned everything around him, his huge silver dogs still pacing a half-moon at his heels.
“West,” he said.
Shawn stepped back, confused, and bumped into the fallen trees.
“Taking up guide work, Highness?” came a voice behind him. “Want to see how the common folk live?”
Too afraid to look over his shoulder, Shawn dug his fingertips into the woodpile and kept staring at the man and his cloak.
“Just taking the dogs out for a run,” said the man. “They got carried away.”
“Does Gabriel know you’re here?”
He gave a tight-lipped smile. “You watch after these children, won’t you, West? In the name of the Sickle.” His gaze shifted to Shawn’s face. “We wouldn’t want them to get hurt.” The dogs turned on their heels as he dissolved into nothing more than black smoke and shot away. As they all sped off into the woods, their howls echoed back, triumphant.
Erika woke to a burst of hyacinth on her pillowcase. She sat up in bed and lifted the spray of blossoms to her nose, smiling into the open petals.
“Good morning, miss,” Martha called, breezing into the room. She held a stack of towels in one hand and a long brown coat in the other.
“Are you going out?” Erika asked.
“You are.” Martha laid the coat at the foot of the bed. “The master is in his study. He told me that he’s in no hurry.” She set the stack of towels down on the armchair. “But I know that he is.”
“Oh?”
“I should let him tell you.” Martha moved around to the wardrobe and opened the doors, pulling things down and setting them, piece by piece, on the foot of the bed.
Erika watched her. “That’s fine,” she said. “I can wait.”
“It’s about your children. He’s looking for a consult.”
“A consult?”
Grim Page 11
