“What happened?” Sam asked.
“When they switched off the ventilator, he kept breathing,” said Jessica. “Then he opened his eyes, started coughing on the tube . . .”
The doctor smiled at her. “It is rare to see a spontaneous recovery in this situation, but the brain can be incredibly resilient. A law unto itself, at times.”
“And this means—he will recover, won’t he?” Jess’s voice was rough.
“We’ll need to keep him for a few weeks, but yes, it looks good. He’ll need plenty of rest, but you can sit with him for a few minutes.”
It was as if the entire world woke up and basked in sunlight. The doctors and nurses were grinning as they went out, tangibly elated. Phyllida went with them, smiling as she whispered, “I’ll leave you to it.”
“Weeks?” Lucas croaked. “No way.”
“Hello, you,” said Rosie. She held Lucas’s hand, never taking her eyes off his face. He was pallid and bruised, but the light had returned to his eyes. The strength of his grip surprised her.
“Why’s everyone staring at me? How long have I been here?”
“A few days,” she choked. “We thought . . .” Tears began to flow out of her. She couldn’t hold them back.
Lucas looked alarmed. “Stop it, Ro. What’s the matter with you all?”
“You nearly died, idiot.” She wiped her eyes. “They thought you were brain-dead. An easy mistake to make.”
“Rosie!” said her mother.
Lucas pulled a face at her, clearly in possession of his wits. Then he paused, frowning. “I was at the Abyss . . . but you and Sam brought me back.”
His gaze met Rosie’s again, and locked. Her breath caught. “Do you remember?”
“Sort of . . . I was in the tree . . . then you came for me.” His eyes widened. “Oh my god, the ice giant . . .”
“It’s all right. Estel said it was just a statue.”
Worry flickered in his eyes, but he didn’t argue. “That was a hell of a walk, Ro. I thought it was a dream, but—you’re still wearing the same clothes.”
She glanced down at herself. She’d forgotten what a shocking state she and Sam were in; cut, bruised and grimy, jeans ripped. All they’d done before coming out was rinse blood and dirt from their faces. No wonder people were staring. “It wasn’t a dream,” she said, squeezing his hand. “When we got to the Lychgate, you vanished. I thought it was over.”
“I was trying to follow, but it went dark. I was scared that I was still in the car. The next thing I knew, I was here, having a tube yanked out of my throat and everyone staring at me as if I’d dropped out of a flying saucer.”
“Of course, your essence came straight to your body,” Rosie breathed. “I’m such an idiot! I should have realized.”
“What’s this about?” Jessica asked, not taking her eyes from Luc, “Rosie, where have you been? We’ve been frantic, trying to get hold of you and Matt. Bron slipped home to look for you and found this . . .” She produced the note, crumpled. “Something about ‘an unexpected trip, not sure how long, don’t worry?’ What were we supposed to make of it?”
“Mum, I’m sorry.” Rosie couldn’t say any more. She didn’t expect to be believed, and she wanted no credit. The nightmare was over. All she wanted to do was sleep.
Lucas cleared his throat and said simply, “She and Sam came after me into the Spiral to bring me back.”
The sheer astonishment on her parents’ faces, added to their exhaustion, made them seem childlike. Rosie’s eyes stung again. She’d never been in this position before; of knowing something they didn’t, or of experiencing an Aetheric adventure not sanctioned or even imagined by them. “They did what?” said Auberon. “Explanation, please.”
Sam told most of it, as succinctly as he could, with occasional interjections from Lucas and Rosie. Jessica sat with tears streaming down her face. In the end, she came to Rosie and wrapped her arms around her. Rosie felt awkward, not wanting an embrace of gratitude that she didn’t deserve. “Don’t, Mum. If not for me, Luc wouldn’t have been here in the first place. Anyway, it was your songs that gave me a hint; the ones about returning to the Source?”
“I haven’t sung those songs for years,” Jess murmured.
“All the same, I keep hearing them. Dad, we think it’s best Lawrence doesn’t hear any of this. Not yet, anyway.”
Her father sat with his chin on his hand, the fingers occasionally moving to smooth his beard, his eyes introspective. He said, “I know that Lawrence has lost the power; he told me so himself. But to believe it’s leapt to you, Luc—that’s a very hasty assumption to take at face value. Let’s keep it strictly to ourselves, shall we? We can discuss it when you’re fit again.”
Rosie looked up and saw Lawrence hovering outside, a long dark shadow. Lucas stiffened, all the light draining from his face. “I don’t want to see him. Don’t let him in. And please don’t mention the Gates.”
“It’s okay. We won’t,” Rosie said quickly. Sam was already on his way to intercept his father.
“I’ll speak to him,” said Auberon, rising. “We should let you sleep now, in any case. Here comes Kate to throw us out.”
They parted from Luc with kisses, Rosie last. As she leaned over him, he whispered, “That’s why I nearly didn’t come back. Becoming Gatekeeper—I can’t do it. Brawth saw me. If it wakes, I won’t be able to control it.”
“Shh.” The fear in his eyes disturbed her. She stroked his cheek. “Like Dad said, don’t worry about it yet. Rest, honey. We’ll see you later.”
In his long black overcoat, Lawrence resembled an undertaker, motionless and watchful. Auberon fixed him with a hard gaze. “He needs to sleep.”
“I won’t disturb him. I only wanted to see for myself.”
“Well, you can see from here. He’s conscious, and recovering.”
Lawrence was looking through a glass panel, so Rosie couldn’t see his expression. His voice sounded as hollow with relief as her father’s. “Thank the gods for Aetheric powers of recovery.”
“So your services will not, after all, be required,” Auberon added. The two men exchanged a long, enigmatic look.
Lawrence, always pale, turned ashen. His voice shook. “I only meant that if it had to be done, I would.”
“Of course. However, you might ask yourself how much Lucas could hear while in his coma, since he now refuses to see you.” Auberon’s face was grim; the others stared. Lawrence took a step backwards, turned, and began to walk away, his coat flaring behind him and his footsteps echoing faster and faster along the length of the ward as he went.
“Got some brilliant news, mate,” said Sam, sitting down at Jon’s bedside. “We made it.”
Jon stared, eyes huge within their dark circles. “Christ, you look like you’ve fallen off a battlefield.”
“Lucas regained consciousness. We found him.”
Jon’s head fell back, the long-lashed eyelids sweeping closed in relief. “Oh my god. I knew he’d come back. I have to see him.”
“Later.” He gripped Jon’s uninjured wrist to hold his attention. “And I’ll tell you all about it, but there’s something else that you must swear on your life you won’t tell Lawrence or Sapphire.”
“I wouldn’t tell them their shoelaces were undone,” Jon retorted. His vehemence took Sam aback.
“Okay, well, I also found our mother.”
Jon went white. His eyes turned liquid. “No. You can’t have. How?”
He wasn’t someone who had ever cried easily, if at all, but now, as Sam explained, he lay with tears flooding freely down his face. After a while, when the story was told, Jon spoke. “Virginia Wilder. She was like a film star, wasn’t she? Joan Crawford or Vivien Leigh, poised but a bit crazy. She always had ropes of amber or turquoise around her neck and wrists. She used to love singing old jazz songs and you’d join in and I always felt left out, but I miss it. It was the only time she looked really happy. And one day she was just—gone.”
&n
bsp; “Yes.” Sam struggled, at a loss. “But it wasn’t her fault. She was trapped there, and the Otherworld does strange things, distorts time. She didn’t mean to abandon us.”
“And for all my efforts, you’re the one who found her, not me . . . because even when the Gates were open, I wasn’t brave enough to grab a pair of crutches and say sod it, I’m coming with you.”
“Believe me, we had enough trouble without you, Long Jon Silver. It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does.” Jon grabbed his arm, distraught. “How can I face her? You don’t know the half of it. Sam, swear on your life you won’t repeat this, but I’ve got to tell you about Sapphire . . .”
Later, back at Oakholme, Jessica, Rosie and Auberon finally caught up with desperately needed sleep. Unearthly stamina had kept them going, but even Aetherials had their limit. Sam had come with them, helping Rosie to break the news about Matthew. Her parents took it with grim stoicism; it all seemed part of the same chaos pattern now. Luc’s recovery at least made it bearable.
Rosie vanished into her old bedroom—a room Sam had speculated about, but never yet seen. He lay down on the huge squashy sofa in their front room, convinced he was fully alert to deal with anything, should a hostile Matthew return.
The next he knew, he woke suddenly in darkness. The curtains were open, the windows glimmering indigo against black. It felt strange and wrong to be here. Auberon and Jessica had been civilized towards him—they were always gracious—but he sensed their coolness and suspicion. Helping to save Lucas—had that redeemed him in their eyes? Could anything? Yeah, great, he thought, resting the back of one hand on his forehead. I shamelessly wreck Rosie’s marriage then try to creep into their good grace. That’s got to impress them. Meanwhile, if my brother isn’t filling Lucas with drugs, my father’s causing havoc over him—no wonder we’re so fucking popular in this house.
And then, Jon’s confession earlier. He bit the tip of his thumb, his mood blackening. He still couldn’t take it in. Sapphire was going to be sorry. If he found out she’d laid a finger on Lucas as well, there wouldn’t be a grave deep enough to bury her.
A shadow took flesh and moved. Sam was on his feet in a second, heart pounding. A lamp flicked on and Auberon stood there, facing him across the hearthrug. “You and I should have a talk,” he said.
“Yes, er—Mr. Fox, you scared the sh—the life out of me. I thought you were . . . Matthew.”
Auberon shook his head. “I’ve been out looking for him. Been all over Cloudcroft with a torch. Hopeless. It’s turned bitterly cold, as well.”
“I’m sorry. You should have woken me. I’d have helped.”
Auberon exhaled, sat on the arm of a chair. Usually gentle, in near-darkness he looked every bit as threatening as Lawrence. “I think you’ve done enough.”
Sam opened his hands. “Look—sir—I know what you must think of me. I’ve ruined Rosie’s life.”
Auberon’s face darkened. He trembled slightly. “She was a married woman. Could you not keep away from her? What the hell were you thinking?”
“I know, but I was desperate—I love her more than my life, I’ve loved her for years. And she wasn’t happy. Do you think she would have looked at me twice if she’d been blissful with Alastair?” He lowered his voice. “She came to me because she was unhappy. She was going to leave him. That’s why he did what he did—not because she slept with me—sorry—but because she wouldn’t go back to him.”
Sam half-expected a bayonet or some other ancient weapon to be seized; Auberon’s face became thunderous. He said bitterly, “Alastair may have acted in grief or anger, but that doesn’t excuse what he did. It was monstrous. I’m guessing he was the sort of man who, if they’d had children in a custody dispute, might have driven the children to a remote spot and gassed both them and himself in the car.”
Sam was shocked into silence.
“I know she wasn’t happy,” Auberon went on. “She told me. Even before the wedding I half-suspected she was going along with it to please everyone around her and not herself, but I was too craven to say anything. What I wish to the very gods I had known was what sort of unbalanced individual Alastair proved to be. I don’t blame Rosie for what happened, of course I don’t. I don’t even blame you. Only one person was responsible for the reckless act that nearly destroyed my family, and that was Alastair himself. You, however . . .”
“I’ve never blamed anyone but myself,” Sam said hurriedly, “but, whatever else I’ve done, I did not drive that car into that tree. Knowing it was her special tree, as well.”
“I was going to say that you’re not such a bad person, Sam. You proved that by going over the Causeway. Even I have never been to the Frost Bridge. What you both did was incredibly brave.”
“It was for Rosie. I’d walk to the ends of the earth and throw myself into the Abyss for her.”
“Yes, I get the picture.” Auberon became stern. “People think I’m a soft touch, but I’m not. As I say, you’re not a bad man and may even be a decent one in time. However, that doesn’t alter the fact that you behaved irresponsibly, or that my son-in-law is dead. I think a period of reflection is in order, don’t you? Matthew is still absent. We each need to attend to our own families. Rosie needs to rest.”
“You want me to make myself scarce?”
“I want you to do what you know to be right,” Auberon said pointedly. “You must see that it would hardly be appropriate for you suddenly to be here in Alastair’s place, after all that’s happened. Rosie herself wouldn’t want that.”
“No, no,” said Sam. A chill went through him. “Of course she wouldn’t.”
“Also, we would like some time with our daughter—in a peaceful atmosphere with no further emotional disruption.”
“Message understood,” Sam answered. Arguing would only be pointless and undignified. “I’ll get out of your hair. There’s stuff I need to sort out, anyway.”
“Thank you.”
“Can I ask about Matthew? Did you know about him . . . changing shape?”
“No, I didn’t.” Auberon shook his head. “I’ve tried to live a peaceful life, Sam, in harmony with everyone. However, now I find that I’ve been not so much living on the Earth as with my head stuck in it. I didn’t see, no, any more than I saw the depth of Rosie’s unhappiness or the fact that Lucas appears to have inherited the lych-light of the Gatekeeper from Lawrence.”
“You really think he has?” said Sam.
“I fear so. Fools like Lawrence and me try to hold the world still, only to find it’s moved on without us.”
After Auberon’s visit, Sam couldn’t sleep. He left early and returned to Stonegate before Rosie awoke, taking time to shower, put on clean clothes and order his thoughts. He guessed they’d be visiting Lucas in the morning. Midafternoon, he gathered his courage and walked downhill again to the friendly, beamed solidity of Oakholme. There was a distinct chill in the air, a heavy promise in the clouds.
Rosie was in the front room, sitting cross-legged on the sofa, wearing jeans and a cranberry-red sweater. Her freshly washed hair fell beautifully about her shoulders, with rose and gold lights in the burgundy. When she looked up at him, she gave only the faintest tired smile. Her eyes were empty, as if she were miles away.
“Hey, gorgeous,” he said. She half-smiled but her eyes stayed ghost grey; he realized that she was in delayed shock. So was he. He sat down at the far end of the sofa, feeling unable to touch her. “How are you feeling?”
She groaned. “Like I’ve been flattened under a steam roller. Everything hurts. Covered in cuts and scrapes.”
“Lucky we heal fast. How’s the brand?”
Briefly she lifted the edge of her sweater to show the red spiral on her creamy flesh. “We went to see Luc,” she said. “He’s doing really well. Uncle Comyn was there too.” She paused. “It’s so hard to look at Luc without thinking what nearly happened . . . The whole thing was only a cat’s whisker from complete tragedy. Alastair is still dead
.”
“Yes. I know.”
“I should go to the funeral. But how do I face his family, the Scottish uncles and cousins?”
“Don’t go,” Sam said firmly. “Let them take his body home and deal with it themselves. You never have to see them again.”
“It’s such a mess. I feel I’ve let everyone down.”
“No, it’s my fault,” Sam said quietly. “It was a game but when games go wrong, it’s no fun anymore. Wish I could take it all back.”
“No, you don’t.”
A dry smile lifted one side of his mouth. “It was incredible, but it wasn’t worth seeing you like this.”
“Now we have to live with what we did.” She tilted her head. Her hair hung down, so beautiful he longed to stroke it. He thought of what Auberon had said to him, and felt cold. There was always going to be this imbalance between them; that Rosie felt too much shame, and Sam felt too little. “The Otherworld changes you. I realize that now. There’s a saying that if you look into the Abyss, the Abyss looks back into you. I understood Luc’s fascination with the void. It’s the last thing to fear, isn’t it? If you could let go of that fear and jump, you’d never fear anything again.”
“No, plus you’d be dead,” said Sam. “I don’t think about stuff like that. It can drive you crazy.”
“Can’t deny I’m a little crazy today,” she smiled. “You’re the sensible one.”
“Didn’t mean . . .” He sighed. “Hey, what happened to your crystal heart? You were wearing it when we set out.”
“Oh, I gave it to Estel, the doe girl. Seemed a tiny price to pay in exchange for Lucas. And she was so sweet and childlike—not to mention incredibly scary.”
“I’ll get you another one.”
“No albinite,” she said quickly. “If sparkly glass is good enough for the Lady of Stars, it’s good enough for me.”
They sat in silence for a minute. Rosie’s state of shock, and his guilt in the face of her pain, thickened between them like an ice wall. He longed to put his arms around her, but couldn’t; she was closed off and spiky, plainly in no frame of mind to be comforted.
Elfland Page 47
