“I don’t want to believe you,” Jon said stubbornly. “It’s too much. All you’re doing is scaring yourself, and I don’t know what you want me to say. Hey, where are you going?”
As Lucas stood up, Jon caught at the sleeve of his dressing gown, but Lucas pulled away. He felt frozen, dizzy, isolated by terrible knowledge. “Even if you’d believe me, you can’t do anything. It’s all on my shoulders. Who is going to listen to me, except Lawrence?”
Faith’s head broke the surface of the water. Strange, even while she swam—her undine form flashing through the waterfall pool, finned hands propelling her like an arrow through dives and turns—she still felt echoes from the surface world. Momentary visions of snow, faint voices, gone before she could capture them. On Earth, she’d often grasped at brief visions of the Spiral. Now it was happening the other way.
Heather surfaced beside her, a tiny mermaid. “Again, Mummy, again,” she said, kicking the crystal water to foam. Faith murmured, “We should get out, poppet.”
They slithered onto the bank, hair flowing like the leafy tendrils of sea dragons. Ginny, in a long lavender dress, was sitting on a flat stone with her arms around her raised knees. In Elysion there was no snow, only mist softening the luscious greens of the hidden valley. Effortlessly, Faith slipped back into her human shape. Water rolled off, leaving her dry. “I never want to come out,” she said quietly. “I forget everything when we’re swimming.”
“That’s the danger.” Ginny shook back her hair. “I let Elysion seduce me until I almost forgot who I was. That’s fine if you want to forget, and become fully Aelyr, but not if you still have ties of love to the Earth.”
“Watch me,” said Heather. She was straight back in the water, a tiny undine again. Smiling, Faith sat beside Ginny and left her to splash. “I’d like to shake off the past. Start fresh.”
“Initiation doesn’t mean enlightenment—it only reveals a new layer of mysteries. You’re experiencing your undine nature as a pleasure and not a guilty secret now. It’s overwhelming, and it should be. Still, I won’t let you forget your Earth-self, Faith. When the time comes, you’ll be glad.”
At first, she’d been in awe of Virginia Wilder, with her proud and abrasive beauty. She was a panther, and Faith a mouse—but Faith was feeling less timid by the day. “Do you remember my mother? She used to be your cleaner?”
“Yes,” Ginny answered ruefully. “She worked hard but unfortunately helped herself so freely to our drinks cabinet that I had to let her go. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Faith’s head dropped. “Everyone in the village knew. The question is, why did no one see she had Aetherial blood?”
“Even pure Aetherials can pass for human,” said Ginny. “And many humans have a trace of Vaethyr blood, but it’s rare for it to be strong enough to manifest. You, and they, are quite unusual.”
“I wish they’d had some awareness,” said Faith. “Instead, they lived like the worst, unhappiest kind of humans. And that’s what Matthew wants for us? Never. I tried to go along with him, but I can’t. It’s wrong.”
“Are you still afraid of him?” Ginny asked.
Faith looked up at the plunging waterfall. There was a brooding quality to the sky, purplish clouds streaming against amber, as if the Spiral held its breath in wait for a storm. “Not sure. If I remember how the terror felt, it twists me into pieces . . . but I’m not the old Faith anymore.”
______
The snow began its surrender to milder air, falling into fantastic shapes in a last show of glory before its decline. On the fourth morning, the lanes became passable and Sam had a nostalgic sense of being released from prison. He headed into Leicester on his motorbike to visit Jon.
Matthew had just returned to Oakholme, having spent the last few days at Stonegate recuperating on the living-room sofa, watching TV and steadily consuming their store of food and drink. At first he’d slept around the clock; then he and Sam had talked; finally, when they started sniping at each other again, Sam knew he was well enough to be sent home.
As he walked the slushy, gritty path from the car park to the hospital entrance, he phoned Rosie and said, “Did you receive the special delivery?”
“Yes, Matthew’s here,” she said, with a smile in her voice. “Thanks for looking after him. He isn’t talking yet, but at least he’s back. Where are you?”
“On my way to see the patients. Thought you might be here.”
“We’re going later. Comyn and Phyll have come round to see us. It was quite nice, hibernating for a few days. How about you? Anything happened with Sapphire yet?”
That was their “safe” subject. A few phone conversations hadn’t been enough to pierce the wall of snow between them. They had to be tactful and not flaunt their affair, for her family’s sake—that went without saying. Now Sam was at pains to show he was capable of maintaining a dignified separation. Actually, it wasn’t hard; he only had to recall Rosie’s devastation after the accident. He knew that if he gave the merest hint that he wanted to see her, she might view it as pressure she didn’t need. And if that pressure forced her to tell him it was over—he couldn’t bear it.
He didn’t want to leave, the way he had when his bid to make Rosie jealous with the Pit Bull had backfired so horribly, but he was coming to terms with the possibility that he might have to.
“Haven’t seen her,” he said, “but I found out something very interesting that I’m guessing she does not want my father to know.”
“Can you tell me?”
“Not yet. Schrödinger’s Cat. It’s neither dead nor alive until you open the box.”
“What? You’re being very mysterious.”
He laughed. “Tell you later. One thing I know, I can’t stay at Stonegate much longer. I’ve arranged to share an apartment in Ashvale with other students until I finish my college course in spring.”
“Oh. And after that?” she asked, her voice soft and noncommittal.
“I don’t know. Have to go, love . . . I’ll call you later, okay?”
As he entered the hospital, he walked straight into Sapphire.
Her hair and fake-fur coat were damp, her fashionable boots tide-marked by salt. She quickly covered her shock at seeing him with a faultless smile. “I take it the roads are clear?”
“Yeah, just about,” he said. They moved to stand near a coffee bar inside the entrance to avoid the endless stream of people. “Where’s Dad?”
“He took the train to London last night to visit the store. He’ll be back later today. And there’s good news; we can bring Jon home in a few days. He’ll need motherly care until he recovers.”
Sam’s mouth opened in a soundless gasp. Her hypocrisy was breathtaking. He stared at this poised, polished stranger and remembered how swift she’d been to call the police that fateful night; her calmly triumphant face as they’d taken him away in handcuffs.
She made to move past him but he stood square, blocking her. “We all struggle to see you as a mother, Sapphire. Lines get blurred.”
“Excuse me?” She looked genuinely bemused.
“Don’t you find me even a bit attractive?” He held out his arms, palms open. “Come on, what about it?”
Sapphire flushed. Her eyes burned with annoyance and a trace of confusion. “Have you gone mad? Get out of my way, Sam.”
“Father, sons; from what I’ve heard, you’re not that fussy. Apparently Jon’s good enough for you, but I’m not. I’m hurt.”
Her full lips thinned. Then she expelled a sharp breath. “I don’t know what the hell you’re playing at, Sam. I suggest you get therapy. Let me past.”
He leaned towards her and said mildly, “You and Jon, I know all about it. He told me.”
She went red. She went white. Sam laughed coldly and said, “That’s good. Can you do candy stripes?”
“Jon is an attention-seeking fantasist with an unfortunate drug habit,” she said, icily furious.
Sam tutted. “So it’s all in his head, an
d when Rosie and Luc saw you in action it was a dream? I know my brother and, for all his quirks, I know when he’s telling the truth. Can’t say the same for you.”
Sapphire stepped close to him, fierce and unafraid. Her eyes burned bright, like armor. “This is a repellent accusation.”
“And what, you’ll see me in court? Oh, that would be fun. He may have been over the age of consent, just, but don’t tell me it was a case of irresistible mutual passion. He was a kid! You knew it was wrong. And you can’t have done it for any reason but a vicious, calculated attempt to hurt my father. Fuck, if you were a man, you’d be begging for your life by now.”
“And if you were a man,” she hissed, “I’d say, just try it.”
“Don’t tempt me, Maria Clara Ramos.”
As consummately as she disguised it, she was shocked. He saw the questions flashing behind her eyes. Her breath hissed through her teeth. “You’re on extremely shaky ground, Sam. Criminal tendencies run in your family, of course. If you’ve touched anything of mine—”
“Accusing me of going through your secret papers would mean admitting you had secret papers to go through,” he said flatly. “All I care about is my father. Either you tell him what you’re playing at, or I will.”
“Oh, I’m not playing. I changed my name—so? I’ve nothing to hide.” She was good, he gave her that. She faced him down, tough and unafraid. “Why would you tell Lawrence anything? I’ll deny it and so will Jon. You can’t prove a thing. If you spread false rumors, you’ll look a fool and be despised for it. If it’s true, you’ll break Lawrence’s heart—assuming he has one. You’ve nothing to gain and everything to lose. You’ll tell him nothing, Sam. Now let me pass.”
He stepped aside. Round one to Sapphire. “You’re right, it would break my father’s heart,” he said after her. “How about we keep it secret, for Jon’s sake? I’m not asking you to reveal your sordid habits. I am suggesting you tell Lawrence who you are.”
She paused. The glass doors hung open, admitting a chilly wind. “There’s nothing missing from your papers,” he said, a little louder. “Only one tiny item anyway, which, dammit, I seem to have mislaid. You come clean with Lawrence and I’ll remember where it is. Otherwise . . . you had better hope you find it before he does.”
Sapphire strode on her way, showing no sign that she’d heard him.
Walking the cold streets outside the infirmary, Sapphire felt a rising sense of urgency. She knew her game was nearly up, but the end had to be on her terms. She had to find whatever incriminating item Sam had left before Lawrence found it—and she must have Jon in her power.
Thinking that she and Lawrence had a chance had been a moment of weakness. Once he had confessed to murder, it was over for her. She hadn’t reacted, only listened; afterwards, Lawrence had slept; but she had lain awake most of the night, feeling cold inside, and remembering the man to whom she had made her promises. Lawrence drove everyone away—but she wasn’t going without delivering a deathblow.
Patiently she killed time for an hour or so, hiding behind a newspaper in the hospital coffee bar until she saw Sam leave. Then she made her way back to Jon’s ward.
Whenever Lawrence returned to Stonegate, the house seemed to be bearing down on him, watching. The judges of the Spiral Court knew his every move and that was why they’d taken the lych-light from him and left him defenseless. This time, the atmosphere was worse than usual. He felt unseen currents shifting darkly around him. Hadn’t sensed anything like it since the last time the Gates were unlocked—but that was impossible. Unthinkable.
Arriving by taxi, he’d noted his own limousine parked on the half-moon drive in front of the house where Sam had left it. Sapphire’s car was behind it. Inside the house, there was no sign of her, so presumably she’d retreated to her own rooms.
Lawrence knew he should rejoice at Jon’s imminent homecoming, but he felt no emotion that was appropriate. Other people seemed to him like smears of light on a distant piece of glass. An irritation. He wanted to be alone in this vast dark silence.
The house felt disturbed, and after a while he put his finger on it. Everything had been subtly moved. Coats and shoes in the cloakroom slightly out of place, kitchen cupboards rearranged, objects repositioned, a sheaf of letters on a mantelpiece taken out, shuffled, and put back . . . not by the cleaner, for there was a smudging of dust and no scent of polish. No. Someone had been searching.
Upstairs, too, there were signs that his bedside cabinet had been explored. He felt mild puzzlement, nothing more. He stared at the big, stark bedroom and it seemed not even to belong to him.
In London, he’d visited the store and broken the news to his staff; that he had sold the business. The buyer was American. They would continue as an exclusive jeweler, but there would be no more albinite. He’d found it hard to dredge up any regret or emotion for them; the greater his torment, the less he could express it.
These were the last days of his empire. He knew, and couldn’t face it.
It was lunchtime. He had no desire for refreshment except a shot of whisky. He headed into his study for a drink and there was Sapphire—still in her coat, riffling through the top drawer of his desk. At the sight of him she jumped guiltily.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
“Lawrence, I didn’t expect you back so early,” she said. “You made me jump.” At once she was breezy again. “I was looking for your diary. To check our work schedule.” Her expression softened, asking for understanding. “Sorry, but the sooner we get back to normal, the better we’ll all feel.”
His large black desk diary was in clear view. As he sardonically passed it to her, the pages flapped and a slip of paper fell out. She pounced to catch it. It was a bookmark he’d been using; clearing her throat, she pressed it back between the pages.
“Normal?” he said.
“I’ve got a surprise. Jon’s been discharged early. I’ve just fetched him.”
“What? Where is he?”
She set the diary down and sighed. “He’s sitting in the car, refusing to come into the house.”
“Why?” He hadn’t paid enough attention to notice his son sitting behind the tinted windows.
“Oh, Lawrence, think about it. You threw him out, not so long ago. This is the first time he’s been back and he’s got cold feet.”
“Well, persuade him to come in. This is ridiculous.”
“You persuade him!” she retorted. “He’s your son. No, I’ve tried. Arguing with him only makes him more stubborn. Leave him to stew, he’ll come in when he’s cold and hungry enough.” Her gaze was still on the desk, her fingernails picking at the corners of stacked papers.
“Aren’t you taking your coat off?” Lawrence went to his liquor cabinet and took a fresh bottle of whisky from the shelf. “You seem nervous,” he said. “When I confessed I’d once killed a man, it was a long time ago. It’s not something that will ever happen again. Please don’t take it to heart.”
She gave him a look, but said nothing. Turning back for a glass, he found something lying on the shelf where the bottle had been.
It was a small passport-sized photograph. The colors were fading, pinkish and washed-out. The image was a head-and-shoulders shot of a girl posing with an older man; her smile shiny-bright and happy, his more guarded and complex. Her face was young, her hair in eighties-style big curls, but clearly recognizable as Sapphire. The man had the air of a hunter who’d just returned from safari with trophy kill over his shoulder; beefy, arrogant, sun-red. The thick eyebrows had a demonic quirk. Lawrence knew the face as well as his own. It was Eugene Michael Barada.
Enemy, nemesis, demon. Barada and Sapphire. Together.
He stood cupping the photo, staring at it in complete incomprehension. It was such an impossible juxtaposition that he couldn’t take it in. A white storm was building up behind his eyes. He glanced up and saw Sapphire facing him across the desk, poised as if she’d turned to stone.
“What is this?” He turned
his hand to show her the image.
Her face lost its color. Her mouth tautened. “It appears to be a picture of me.”
“And this man you’re with—do you know who he is?”
She paused. He saw a dark flame racing behind her eyes; trembling horror and defiance mixed. Then, in a beat, her game was up and battle lines drawn.
“Of course I know who he is,” she said evenly. “He was my father. He was the man you killed.”
21
Pandora’s Box
“Ro, can I have a word?” Matthew’s voice came hoarse and quiet from his doorway as Rosie passed his room.
“Yes, of course,” she said, slipping inside. The bedroom he’d shared with Faith was bigger than hers but otherwise similar, with ivory walls, oak paneling, leaded windows and a big dark oak bed. She noticed with shock what an incredible mess it was. Strewn clothes, unmade bed, empty beer cans. “Oh my god, Matt . . .”
“I know. I’ll get round to it. Without Faith here, there didn’t seem any point.”
“You’re like a bear in a cave. You need to come out.”
He nodded, looking at his feet. As he pushed back his hair, his hand shook. “When you helped Faith and Heather escape, you were frightened of me, weren’t you?”
“On their behalf.”
“I would never have hurt them!”
“That’s not how it looked. You have to face it, Matt; you were out of control.”
“I know that. I’ve had nightmares all week. I’ve been thinking about everything Sam said and I know he’s right, but I can’t get past it.”
“So let us help you. Don’t fall apart on us.”
“Why don’t you change?” The confusion in his eyes disturbed her. “In the Dusklands. You don’t become a beast, do you?”
“Actually, I always wanted to. Felt I should become a fox, an owl, a wolf. You think you’re abnormal because you change, and I think I’m abnormal because I don’t.” Rosie chewed her lip. “I’m in no position to preach, Matt, but how about you try helping your family instead of feeling sorry for yourself?”
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