A very, very long tongue extruded itself and licked her face. ʺYes, you’re right,ʺ she said. ʺSilly of me to get all collapsed and shocky when everything’s okay. Everything’s fine. Thanks to you. No. No, I’m not going to cry any more, I’m really not. I think you’ve got some extra tongue, like all those ribs. . . .ʺ But her hands were shaking, so she took them back, and chafed them together. ʺI’m sorry I’m behaving like such a dork. . . .ʺ
There was the oddest sensation in her head. It was a little like finding a parcel on your doorstep that someone had left for you, that you weren’t expecting, that you’d overlooked. There was nothing so clear as words, but she realized that she’d been given an awareness that what had happened in the graveyard was as much her responsibility—her achievement, her victory—as it was Flame’s. ʺI don’t know,ʺ she said, because she was a human and words were what she used. ʺI don’t know. I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. Mal’s okay. That’s all that matters.ʺ
Another awareness: that the old graveyard was now clear and clean. That the things that had been happening for over a century because it was neither clear nor clean would now stop happening.
ʺYou mean cell phones will work here? The next time somebody casts a shoe and we have to walk home I can ring ahead and say we’ll be late? That’ll be brilliant. And totally lost and hopeless walkers from the preserve won’t turn up at the stables and want to know where they are. Well, not as many anyway.ʺ
Jane’s voice, and a cone of flashlight beam: ʺHiding under the table and talking to your dog again, are you?ʺ Miri told herself that Jane wouldn’t be able to see anything that was the wrong kind of revealing by flashlight, but Jane came straight up to her and crouched down to give her another hug. ʺHoney, are you all right? I have the feeling more happened than Leslie or Mal is telling us.ʺ She paused to give Miri a chance to answer, but when Miri said nothing she went on, ʺWe were just getting organized to start looking ourselves. We’ve got cops, firefighters, and an ambulance, and a few guys from the preserve, and Leslie’s mom is probably here by now too. I hated ringing her but . . . And then Flame came prancing into the yard and barked to make us all look at him—you know he never barks—and he gambolled around like a lunatic for a minute or so and then ran straight up to me and threw himself down and waved all his legs in the air, still barking and wagging his tail like he was trying to wag it off. And I said, without even knowing I was going to say it, They’re all right. He’s telling us they’re all right.ʺ
There was another little silence, but this time it was a silence they both wanted to listen to.
ʺFlame knew where to go, of course, but I knew you’d been heading for the old graveyard, so we didn’t have to argue much about coming this way first. Everybody else is kind of on hold. The cops were saying there’s not a lot we can do now it’s dark and the preserve guys were saying they know the ground really well and they’d be happy to do some looking anyway, it’s not high summer any more, exposure, you know, if you’re out all night and you’re hurt. . . .ʺ That wasn’t a silence they wanted to listen to and Jane hurried on: ʺLook, darling, there are some stretcher-bearers just longing for something to do, and Mal and Leslie are refusing to get off Balt.ʺ Miri smiled a little at this. ʺWould you like a lift back?ʺ
ʺNo. Good grief. I’m just a little—shaken. It was—scary, you know?ʺ
Jane said grimly, ʺYes. I know. And it did happen at the graveyard? Mal says the lightning struck almost like it was aiming for him, and he fell off.ʺ
He didn’t fall off. He was pulled off. ʺYes.ʺ
Jane sighed. ʺYou’re as communicative as they are. Never mind. I don’t care, so long as you’re all back safe. Twilight’s come home, by the way. She’s got a very strange—what looks like a burn, on her flank, but it can’t be a burn. If the lightning had actually struck her they’d both be dead, or at least really messed up. She’s a little spooked but I hope she’ll be okay. We’ll turn her out for a week and see how she goes. Come on, child. If you won’t accept a friendly passing stretcher you can at least lean on me.ʺ She pulled Miri’s arm over her shoulder and stood up.
When they got back to the barn the ambulance driver, who’d been listening to the hospital dispatchers, told them there’d been a bad accident on the way out of the city, and the highway was blocked solid. So when he’d heard the message coming in on the barn machine he’d picked up the phone: Leslie’s mother had been two miles from the nearest exit for the last hour and a half. (There were already two messages on the barn answering machine, and when they got indoors they discovered three more on the house machine.) Jane said, ʺOh, poor woman,ʺ and to Leslie, ʺYou aren’t going anywhere tonight, you can sleep here.ʺ Jane rang back, told her to go home as soon as she could, said they’d ring again as soon as everyone else had gone, and put Leslie on the phone.
It was nearly eleven by the time the last of the searchers and rescuers had left. Miri was so exhausted she could hardly walk the hundred yards from the barn to the house. She hadn’t decided what she was going to say about what had happened, and she hadn’t had a chance to talk to Mal and Leslie about what they wanted to say, or not say. Fortunately the cop who tried to talk to her thought she was just tired and shaken—which was only too true as well—and patted her shoulder and told her to come in to the station when she’d had some sleep and fill a form out, please. It wouldn’t be that easy with Jane.
When they got into the house, Leslie rang her mother again, and Jane rescued the salad that had been sitting in the sink for the last five hours. They’d decided to save the steak and the cake till tomorrow; Ned started slicing bread. Miri looked dubiously at the peeled potatoes, and put them in the refrigerator. Mal was saying hello to Dorothy, who was carrying on, Miri thought, as if she knew the truth. The cats had decided that whatever it was, it was over, and supper was late.
Miri dropped her eyes to Flame. Flame was looking at her, but then he often looked at her. She sat down in the nearest chair—she’d leaned harder on Jane on the walk back to the barn than she wanted to admit—and Flame put his head in her lap. He was too tall to do this easily, so Miri slid off the chair and sat on the floor beside him and leaned against him. He put his nose in her hair and whuffled gently. Under the cover of Dorothy’s shrieks and Leslie’s conversation with her mother she said to him, ʺI don’t suppose we’re going to be able to talk to each other after this?ʺ
There was no answer. She didn’t really expect one. But she was having a hard time with what had happened a few hours ago. And she couldn’t explain away the impossible part because she remembered Mal’s lifeless hand in hers too clearly. She whispered, so that only Flame could hear her, ʺIf the only way I get to talk to you is because . . . because something incredibly awful has happened, then I’d rather you were just a . . . dog.ʺ He whuffled a little more. His breath always smelled clean and sweet—a kind of running-water smell, like the stream through the nature preserve. It must be all that charcoal he ate. ʺHow does a . . . a . . . become a dog? I bet Jry and Kro—Kro-something aren’t squirrels or tea-pots. Maybe they’re hellhounds, like you. I wish . . .ʺ But she couldn’t say what she wished, even to Flame.
Jane said, ʺOkay, everyone. This isn’t going to be the best meal you’ve ever eaten, but we all need to eat—you three especially. Leslie, you sit there. Miriam, you may not sit under the table with your dog, even that dog.ʺ
It was hard to think about food at midnight. Flame got Miri’s first sandwich but she managed to eat the second. It did begin to make her feel better, but that only made her thoughts even harder to duck or switch off. Jane disappeared briefly and returned carrying a bottle of wine and a corkscrew. ʺThis feels like a special occasion,ʺ she said. ʺI mean a special occasion that doesn’t have anything to do with Mal’s birthday. I’ve had horses come home riderless before—memorably when you, Miri, took that four-legged maniac Padraic out against my express orders, and he lost you—ʺ
Just as we were passing the turn off to the old grave
yard, thought Miri, but she didn’t say it aloud.
ʺBut I’ve never had this sense of having someone snatched back from—from—from—ʺ but she couldn’t say it aloud. ʺAnd the way you all look isn’t helping. You wouldn’t be in shock like this—and I’m not sure Miri isn’t the worst—if all that had happened is that lightning struck a little too close and Twilight took exception and dumped Mal. For one thing, if that’s all that happened, the two of you would have come back on Peggy, instead of sending her home with her stirrups run up as a message that you needed rescuing.ʺ
There was a little silence. Finally Mal said, ʺSo, tomorrow, whatever we say now, we get to blame the wine, is that it?ʺ
ʺThat’s the idea,ʺ said Jane. ʺAnd the hour, of course. No one says sensible things at midnight. So talk. What the hell really happened?ʺ
There was another little silence. Miri could hear the grandfather clock in the hall ticking. Dorothy was standing on one leg with her head under her wing. The only sound besides the clock was Ned eating his third sandwich. Mal reached out and picked up one of his presents. He’d decided to save opening them till the steak dinner, but he looked at the one he held carefully, as if he was going to guess what was in it. But Miri thought he was looking at his hand and arm more than he was looking at the gift. It was a small flat box and the wrapping paper was blue and white and the ribbon around it was red. Miri knew what was in it because she’d wrapped it: a gift certificate for a new pair of running shoes. His old pair were blue and white and red. All he had to do was go round to the sports shop and choose the new ones. He’d met Leslie when she had been one of the volunteer gofers for away matches for the cross-country team last year.
Mal put the little box down and picked up his wine glass briskly, took a giant swallow and set it down again with an air of resolution. ʺOkay. I didn’t just come off Twilight. I broke my neck.ʺ
Silence again. Horrible silence. Ned stopped chewing. The clock went tick tick.
ʺI heard it. Tiny little crunch. And then I was on the ground and couldn’t feel a thing below my neck. All I felt . . . It was . . . no. I don’t want to talk about it.ʺ
Miri looked up just as the tears began to slide down Leslie’s face again. Mal reached his hand out—the hand that Miri had briefly held—and covered hers with his. ʺI don’t want to talk about it for me, not just for Leslie. Leslie was brilliant. Peggy was pretty stirred up by the lightning and Twilight taking off, but Leslie got her quieted down—and the storm left almost as fast as Twilight did—ʺ
ʺAs if it had done what it was meant to do,ʺ said Leslie in a strange flat voice—a voice very like Jane’s when she’d said, That looked like it was right over the old graveyard. Leslie picked up her wine glass in the hand Mal wasn’t holding and took a mouthful.
ʺYes,ʺ said Mal. ʺIt was a bit like that. But this is the wine talking, right? So Leslie tied Peggy up and—and found out I wasn’t getting up because I couldn’t, and she said that she mustn’t move me, and that she’d send Peggy home and you’d be sure to come looking for us and you’d even know where to come because Miri had told her that I liked the old graveyard, and you’d’ve seen the lightning strike.
ʺAnd it was pretty much forever, lying under that tree, till Miri and Balthazar and Flame showed up. . . .ʺ
ʺDon’t,ʺ said Leslie. Mal squeezed her hand. ʺYeah. So Miri showed up and she . . . she saw it was pretty bad. And then . . . well, Flame went kind of nuts. That was pretty weird. Miri decided to see what he was carrying on about and followed him into the old graveyard.ʺ
Jane glanced at Miri and back at Mal.
ʺI thought she was kind of . . . you know, postponing the inevitable. About me. And . . . well . . . I don’t know. There was this feeling for a little while like . . . I don’t know, like the world was coming to an end, except I was already . . . I was pretty out of it. It’s just I was even more out of it there for a while. . . .ʺ
Leslie said, ʺIt was like the sky had come down and was mashing us into the ground. It was like . . . it was like being in a waffle iron and they’re closing the lid. I thought . . . I thought what had happened to Mal was making me crazy, that I was cracking up. And then suddenly it went away.ʺ
ʺOkay, it was like that for you too? That’s pretty much what it felt like to me. Except when they opened the waffle iron and let us out I could move again. It was like everything that had happened since the lighting struck had been the waffle iron. Had been a bad dream. Except it wasn’t. I remember. I remember just . . . kind of not being there, except for this awful . . . Also I feel like I’ve been in a waffle iron. I’ve fallen off horses before and I’ve never been beat up the way I feel beat up now. You’re going to need a winch to get me out of bed tomorrow morning, I think.ʺ
Miri was looking at Mal when he turned to look at her. Leslie was looking at her too, and Jane. She couldn’t see where Ned was looking but she could guess he was looking at her. She looked down at Flame to give her courage, and gently pulled his ears, one silky ear per hand. ʺIt was Flame really. I didn’t know. He—it really is—was—haunted, you know. The graveyard.ʺ This is a place of power. She taught riding at her mother’s riding stable—no, she taught riding with her mother at their riding stable—places of power were nothing to do with her. Flame looked up at her, and the end of his tail twitched. She took a deep breath.
ʺFlame knew the—the thing that was haunting it. He’s a hellhound, you know?ʺ She wanted to laugh, but she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to stop. ʺI guess he defected. But I guess he knows his old colleagues. This one knew him. It said I could have Mal back if I convinced the—the ghosts to let him go. The—the thing seemed to think that the way—the way Mal was, he—he wouldn’t live long.ʺ He will not want to live. ʺAnd then . . .ʺ But she realized she couldn’t tell them about her grandfather, about Ned’s father, not when they all still missed him so much, especially Ned. It would be like Mal talking about what happened to him after Leslie said don’t. She might try to tell Jane about it later, some time when they were alone. ʺI—I guess I kind of told them that they didn’t have to stay there. That they weren’t trapped. They didn’t seem to know—that was the thing, not letting them know. I think Flame must have stopped the thing from stopping them while I—told them. So they left. And when we came back out of the graveyard again Mal was sitting up.ʺ
There was another, longer silence. ʺDo you suppose Flame would like some wine?ʺ said Jane. She passed Miri an empty plate and Miri poured a few drops of wine into it and set it on the floor. Flame came out from under the table and solemnly lapped it up. Then he raised his head and looked around the table as if checking that this was what he was supposed to do. Or as if he was including them all in . . . it was like ratifying a contract, thought Miri. Sealing a pact.
ʺI think the graveyard really . . . isn’t haunted any more,ʺ said Miri. ʺMaybe cell phones will work here now.ʺ
ʺWell that would be convenient,ʺ said Jane. ʺExcept that then we’ll have to forbid people to use them while they’re riding and insist they turn them off before they get on their horses. Leslie, you’re dropping. Let me show you where you’ll sleep. Miri, can you loan her a nightgown?ʺ
Miri fetched an old, half-worn-out flannel nightgown because it was, in her opinion, the most comfortable and comforting, and then began to collect the dirty dishes and ran water in the sink. ʺFor pity’s sake, Miri,ʺ said her father, ʺgo to bed. I’ll do this.ʺ
Miri shook her head. ʺI’m not quite ready to go to bed,ʺ she said. ʺI don’t want to have to dream about anything yet.ʺ Ned put his arm around her and they stood silently for a moment. Then he sighed. ʺIt’s one thirty A.M. and I believed every word you said. Tomorrow morning I have to give a presentation to the trustees of a big charity so they’ll hire us, and what happened here just now will all be nonsense. But at one thirty A.M. . . . thank you.ʺ He kissed the top of her head. ʺIf you really want to struggle with the dishes, I’m going to bed.ʺ
Miri nodded at the billow
of detergent suds. ʺYou go. The horses won’t care if I’m awake, so long as they get their breakfast. Your trustees probably would mind.ʺ
She didn’t notice that Jane had returned till she began lifting dishes out of the draining rack and drying them and putting them away. They’d finished and Miri was mopping the counter when Jane said at last, ʺIt’s all true, isn’t it? It’s all true.ʺ
Miri said, ʺYes.ʺ
Flame was sprawled in the middle of the kitchen floor, where they had to keep stepping over him, but neither of them had wanted to tell him to move.
ʺIt’s two in the morning, and I can say anything I like,ʺ Jane began, and paused.
ʺThat’s what Dad said.ʺ
ʺDo you suppose he was—Flame was—somehow—sent?ʺ
Miri thought about his sad red eyes when she’d first seen him at the pound—about the depth of that sadness. Had she been drawn to that sadness because she was supposed to be? ʺNo,ʺ she said, after a moment. ʺI think he—after he—after he defected, I think he’s been having, um, culture shock. I think that’s probably why he’s . . . a dog.ʺ
ʺI don’t like the way this conversation is going,ʺ said Jane. ʺNext you’re going to tell me there’s a lot of stuff like the graveyard—what that graveyard used to be—around.ʺ
Miri said, ʺI think there probably is. But there’s a lot of stuff like us and Leslie and our barn too, isn’t there? Like those two guys from the preserve who were going to look for Mal and Leslie even after dark because they know the area so well. Or even you telling Leslie’s mom to go home, that Leslie can spend the night here. And we have Flame.ʺ
At the sound of Miri’s voice saying his name, Flame opened his eyes and thumped his tail.
Fire: Tales of Elemental Spirits Page 11
