Guardian of the Dead

by Karen Healey

  ‘Come on,’ Liam said. ‘We’ll all have some fun.’ His door swung open.

  ‘Go fuck yourself,’ I suggested, in lieu of a battle cry and stepped clear. I’d always been good at side kicks.

  The impact jarred up my foot as the door slammed back on his leg with a wet, satisfying thud. I had time to see the shock and pain blur his features.

  Then I ran.

  There were shouts and curses behind me, but I didn’t look back as I pounded down the road and turned onto the narrow path. It was slick with wet leaves and I skidded in my worn sneakers, recovering my balance with a jolt that strained my knees. I could hear the rush of their chase, but no shouting; they were hunting now. I left the lit path and headed for the shadows, running between copses of trees as silently as I could. When I couldn’t hear anything more and cramps stabbed at my side, I scrambled under a tree and waited, listening through the thrumming of my blood in my ears.

  I stayed there for a long time, counting the seconds in my head, and crouching against the reassuring solidity of the trunk until even a slow pursuer would have appeared. I let the terror go through me then, in a spate of quiet, vicious curses, most of them directed at Liam, with a few left over for Blake. They got repetitive very fast, but it made me feel better. If I’d taken Latin I would have more variety, I thought, and had to fight back inappropriate giggles. Maybe I could take it at university next year. If I did stay in Christchurch.

  I slid from my hiding place to work out exactly how lost I was.

  Three steps away stood a high wire fence, dimly lit at intervals. The trees towering over the top of the fence weren’t the spreading bare limbs of European imports, but the damp green tangles of native foliage, crowned by the kahikatea trees thrusting bare trunks far into the sky before the rounded leafy heads appeared. They were so tall that the security lamps illuminated almost nothing; I could only make out the tree outlines as dark shapes against the fog.

  I was outside the Riccarton Bush, where Kevin had suggested we go in the summer. My stomach hurt, and it wasn’t just the running.

  But the wet smell of the bush was reassuring. Heedless of the mud squelching under my boots, I trudged to the edge of the fence and leaned in, brushing the tips of my fingers along a leaf.

  Only a body’s length to my left, wearing nothing but her skin, Reka Gordon walked out of the mists.

  I didn’t waste time trying to deny my instincts or the evidence of my eyes. She hadn’t been there a moment ago; and now she was, naked and perfect and terrifying. She looked me over, up and down, green eyes gleaming in her fine-boned face. Her pupils were missing.

  ‘Ellie,’ she said. ‘So you’re the one skulking at my borders. Have you been reading fairy tales?’

  Fear fluttered in my throat, but my voice came out strongly. ‘What are you doing here?’

  Her laugh was a pealing cascade, cold as a waterfall over dark stone. ‘This is my home. And I don’t like intruders. Spying was very stupid of you.’

  Unbound, her hair was longer than I’d have thought possible, hanging straight and shining to the backs of her knees. Her face was as ageless as I’d seen it first, before I’d talked myself into believing she was an ordinary woman. Now I only wondered that I’d ever thought her even remotely human.

  ‘I wasn’t spying,’ I said, through a mouth dry with terror.

  ‘As you say,’ she said, in mocking disbelief. ‘Why else would you come here?’

  Since she obviously wasn’t going to believe me, I went to the most urgent question. ‘Where’s Kevin?’

  She sniffed. ‘I’m sure I don’t know.’

  ‘Leave him alone!’

  ‘I need him,’ she said, implacable. ‘His protections fade. I will have him.’ She shrugged, in dismissal of me and my protests, and began humming a tune all in minors.

  I was sweating, even in the cold. That song wasn’t natural.

  ‘What protections? What do you need him for? Sex? Trust me, he’s not interested!’

  She looked thoughtful at that, and I had the terrible notion that I’d just handed her a vital piece of information. But she didn’t stop humming, and the mist drifted around our legs in thickening strands of white. When something ran over my foot, I squeaked, and kicked. A tiny green lizard leaped away, landing neatly on Reka’s bare shoulder and climbing down to sit in her outstretched hand.

  Her humming intensified. The gecko sat in her palm, swaying slightly, tongue testing the air as it stared unblinking at me. I felt another weight on my shoe and then, to my disgust, another gecko ran up my leg. I hit at it, and it leapt onto my arm, more tiny feet on my other leg.

  The mist thickened until I could see nothing, and Reka vanished into that blank whiteness. But I could hear her, chanting something that might have been Mori. I wasn’t really listening. More geckos were climbing onto me, faster than I could shake them off. I tried to scream for help, and a gecko thrust its head into my open mouth. I felt the tiny bones crunch as I bit down, and gagged on the bitter, spurting fluids. I clamped my teeth together as other geckos crawled wet-footed over my face and nudged at my mouth. They were clinging to my hair, settling on my eyelids, crawling over me until I couldn’t breathe for the terror of their tiny limbs.

  I wasn’t moving. My feet were rooted as Reka’s song rose. Numbed, I heard my fate in her voice – not death, but the long, wooden life of tree and bush, sleeping away winters and rising in the spring to thrust mindless to the sun. I might live a century or more until the rot claimed me, and never remember that I had once been a girl, with limbs instead of branches, who had fought, and run, and kissed.

  Anger faded into placid acceptance as her voice sang out the final phrase and hung, questioning, on the last word.

  I began to sigh my consent.

  She wants Kevin.

  No!

  Fury brought me back to myself, body motionless and covered in small, sticky feet, but mind unfogged. I didn’t know how long I’d been standing there, but now there were two voices chanting in the mists – Reka’s, and a male voice, speaking another language I didn’t recognise at all.

  The geckos were still. Some pressure on me eased as the voice that wasn’t Reka’s got louder.

  The speakers paused, their chants fading.

  I strained. My fingers jerked.

  There was a quieter conversation, in the rhythms of English, and then silence. Small bodies streamed down mine and ran into the mists.

  The owner of the other voice came out of the fog, lanky body careful and slow. He splayed the long fingers of his pale hand across my cheek and muttered something, and the last of the enchantment holding me motionless wavered and broke.

  His eyes were cautious. ‘Spencer. You okay?’

  ‘Fuck you, Nolan,’ I said, and fell.

  VIOLENT

  I’D BEEN REALLY looking forward to passing out, but the shock of landing in cold mud turned out to be a wonderful remedy for a fuzzy head.

  Mark bent and offered me his hand. A little closer to my face, and I’d have been able to bite it. Instead, I pushed myself back to my feet, wiping grime off my hands. My jeans were sodden. I’d have to dry-clean the coat.

  ‘That was exciting,’ I said. The remnants of gecko were still sour in my mouth. I spat into the mud. ‘What was it?’

  ‘Hypnotism?’ he offered, smiling slightly.

  My brittle composure snapped.

  ‘Stop lying to me! What is going on?’ I drove both hands into his shoulders and pushed, hard.

  He staggered back. ‘Oh, you’re welcome,’ he said bitterly, spreading his hands. ‘I did everything I could to keep you out of it.’

  ‘You gave me a migraine!’

  He grimaced and held up his hand flat. ‘I know. I’m sorry.

  I thought you’d stop trying to remember before it got that bad.’

  I wanted to stamp my foot like a three-year-old. ‘What the hell is she?’

  Mark looked more tired than anything else. ‘I can’t tell you.�
�

  I shoved him again, bouncing him off the fence. ‘Then I’ll tell you what I know.’ There were tears welling out of my eyes. I ignored them.

  ‘I know she tried to kill me, and that she’s after my best friend, and that this is nearly the worst night of my life. And I know that I don’t owe you any favours. If you don’t tell me something right now, I’m going to make you.’ Pain flickered across his face when I shoved him again. I smelled smoke and the wet scent of growing things, and under it, the acrid tang of my own sweat. ‘So!’

  He closed his eyes. ‘So what?’

  Fury roared through my head, drowning out the small, inner voice that protested. I pulled my fingers back and drove the heel of my palm under his chin.

  The strike snapped his head back and he sagged against the fence, wrapping his fingers against the wire.

  ‘Tell me,’ I said.

  His pale eyelashes fluttered like nervous moths. ‘I can’t.’

  I threw a two-knuckle punch across his face. His lip split under the blow, dribbling blood down his chin. ‘Tell me!’

  ‘I can’t!’

  That inner voice was screaming, and I tried to ignore it. I couldn’t kick for the jaw; if I broke it he wouldn’t talk well and if I missed, I might kill him. But I could hit the shins or gut, and after he regained his breath, he’d talk to stop it happening again. ‘Tell me,’ I said again, and prepared the kick.

  His eyelids snapped open, and the look in his eyes drove me back a step. ‘I. Can’t.’

  Can’t, the inner voice howled. He’s saying he can’t! I lowered my hands in sudden understanding. ‘Wait. Not that you won’t.’

  He closed his eyes wearily. ‘Right.’ He dabbed at his bleeding lip. ‘You can’t help like this. If you knew a little more—’ He broke into a hacking cough, his eyes streaming as he gagged on the words.

  I waited a minute, but it was clear he wasn’t faking either his attempt to speak or whatever was preventing him from doing so. ‘It’s okay,’ I said.

  He shot me a grateful look, then stared at the blood on his fingertips as if it were an interesting puzzle.

  I looked away. ‘Why didn’t you fight back?’

  ‘I don’t know how.’

  ‘Not even with magic?’

  I’d scored a hit; he ducked his head and sighed. ‘Maybe I hoped you could beat it out of me. But it seems you can’t. So. We’re done here?’ He glanced over his shoulder, and I pictured Reka lurking unseen in the Bush, and nodded.

  We walked silently back toward the sanity of the city night. The richly appointed houses made geometric shapes against the cloudy sky. Until tonight, I’d thought I preferred the softer shadows of trees.

  Mark had a car, which pretty much guaranteed that he had in fact followed me onto the bus that day. It was an old Toyota with mud on the wheels and bugs on the windscreen. He unlocked the passenger-side door first, but I hesitated.

  He didn’t seem offended. ‘Your choice.’

  I shrugged. ‘It’s been a rough night.’

  He gazed uneasily at me. ‘It’s up to you. But you might—’ He started to say something else, then sputtered again, shrugging helplessly as the cough rolled through him.

  Well, I already knew I could handle him physically. I swung the stiff door open, reassured by its resistance to my hand. ‘What about Kevin?’

  ‘Nothing should change until tomorrow night,’ he said. The words were strained. ‘If you want to know more, why don’t you—’ he coughed, clutching at the steering wheel. ‘Tomorrow morning – the university library,’ he got out, and then convulsed, fighting for air. I caught his shoulder and squeezed it, helpless to do anything else. The chain bracelet jangled as he jerked, odd charms dancing.

  My hair was still knotted around the silver links.

  I yanked his hand up, glaring at him. ‘What’s this? Is this how you followed me? Did you get this from me on purpose?’

  ‘No! I mean yes, I used it to find you, but I told you, waking you up was an accident. I didn’t even know you had latent talent until then.’

  ‘Talent,’ I said flatly. ‘Magical talent.’ I started picking the blond strand free from the bracelet.

  He half smiled. ‘Don’t get too excited. You’re not all the way there yet, and even then, you can only work by instinct until you train it.’

  ‘Yeah? Will you do that?’

  He hesitated. ‘Maybe. If I can.’ He took back his hand and inspected the chain. ‘You got it all.’

  ‘You can’t follow me?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Good,’ I said, ignoring the part of me very excited about training in magic. Training with Mark. ‘Because that’s really creepy.’ I stuffed the torn hair in my coat pocket and pulled the seatbelt across my chest. ‘Take me back to Mansfield. I want to see Kevin.’

  I made Mark park outside the fence by the Sheppard garden, rather than risk walking past Chappell’s residential flat late and covered in mud. Mark didn’t look much better than I felt; bruises were already beginning to appear around his perfect mouth.

  I touched my own jaw in sympathy. ‘I’m sorry about that.’

  ‘Forget it. I mean . . . don’t worry about it.’ He hesitated. ‘I’m sorry about Reka.’

  I closed my eyes for a long moment, tired of mysteries. ‘But you can’t tell me about that either. Not yet.’

  He shook his head, and we waited each for the other to fill the silence. Carefully, checking my expression for protest, he leaned forward and touched my face again, the same cool spread of fingertips against my cheekbone that had dispelled Reka’s enchantment. My breath stuttered.

  ‘Tomorrow,’ he said, half question, half promise.

  I nodded and swung out of the car without speaking. I didn’t trust myself not to say anything stupid.

  There were still lights on in my building, and I decided that it would be best to avoid awkward questions about late reappearances and being covered in mud. The best plan would be to climb into my bedroom window, then sneak to the bathroom when the coast was clear to get the worst of the mud off. Then I could take the long way back through the garden and down the road to get to Kevin’s building in Pomare.

  Under the circumstances, I was pretty proud of myself for coming up with such a good plan, but it all fell apart when I climbed in and found Kevin asleep on my bed.

  ‘Ellie?’ he mumbled, sitting up.

  ‘Oh, thank God,’ I said, and dropped onto the foot of the bed.

  He switched on the bedside light and stared at me. ‘Hell! What happened to you?’

  I managed a laugh. ‘So it turns out Blake’s kind of a dick,’ I began, and explained everything up until Reka walking out of the night. In this version of my evening, I had hidden until the men went away, and then walked home.

  Kevin was silent as I went along, but his face gradually went dark red with anger. ‘I’ll kill him,’ he said when I finished.

  I snorted. ‘Yeah, big man, you’re a hero. I’ll kill him.’

  ‘Why all the mud?’

  His fists were clenching and unclenching, and I was reminded of the rage he’d unleashed on Carrie over the packet of chips. The memory was uncomfortable, but it was sort of reassuring to have that fury on my side.

  ‘I fell over when I ran.’ A weird sense of guilt made me add: ‘He did say he’d drive me safely home. It was me who stayed out of the car.’

  ‘You did exactly right,’ he said indignantly. ‘He made a move, you said no, he tried again. You didn’t know those other two were going to turn up. You did know he’d already pushed it once.’

  I tried to take a breath, but my chest heaved and it came out in hiccups. ‘I flirted with him,’ I said, my voice stuttering. ‘Even though I knew he had a girlfriend. I feel like I asked for it—’

  ‘No!’

  ‘I feel so stupid.’

  Kevin made a distressed noise and hugged me hard, heedless of the mud that got all over his shirt. ‘You said no,’ he repeated. ‘That is the abso
lute opposite of asking for it, Ellie.’

  I leaned on him until I could breathe properly again, and wiped tears away when I pulled back. Then I punched his shoulder. ‘Why are you here? Where the hell did you go with Reka? Didn’t you get my message?’

  ‘Phone out of money,’ he said vaguely, and grimaced. ‘I was kind of a dick to you tonight. I thought I should apologise.’

  I sniffed. ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Yeah.’ He gestured at his backpack. ‘So I went to the supermarket and got you some dick-apology wine. But I’m broke right now, so it’s urine d’chat. Normally I’d recommend getting drunk before you open it.’

  I tried to smile. ‘Oh, well, if there’s wine I forgive you. What happened with Reka?’ My voice sounded false in my ears, just a little too casual.

  His long nose wrinkled with distaste. ‘She tried to kiss me. We were getting on great until then.’ He paused. ‘Actually, I don’t think she wanted to take no for an answer either. But she did.’

  ‘I bet she’s not used to hearing it.’ I must have sounded too sharp.

  He gave me a hard look. ‘She doesn’t know many people here. And it’s difficult for her, with her allergies. She’s a great person, really.’ His voice rang with conviction; so much so that I winced at his volume and made exaggerated keep-it-down gestures.

  ‘I know, I know. I was only . . .’ Terrified for you. ‘. . . wondering where you were.’

  He relaxed, losing some of his evangelical air, and pointed at my desk, and the white mask propped on a pile of notes. ‘Is that the mask for Dream?’

  ‘That’s it,’ I said absently, and then blinked. The mask seemed different, somehow. That buzzing in my ears was back, but it was more like the purr of a contented cat, pleased to have me home. A chill went through me.

  ‘I can take it on Wednesday.’

  ‘No!’ I said. ‘I mean . . . I can take it.’

  ‘I thought you didn’t have to come to any more rehearsals?’ ‘The girls still haven’t quite got it,’ I lied.

  He shrugged and waved the wine bottle at me. ‘So. Are we going to drink this?’