by Raquel Lyon
“Would you like to go out sometime?” Vincent materialised behind me again, startling me.
I whirled around.
“Will you stop sneaking up on me?” I snapped.
“Apologies. Let me make it up to you. Come to dinner. I know a very special place.”
“No. Thank you.” God, he was like a bad itch that I just couldn’t scratch.
“It’s only dinner. I’m not proposing…yet.” He raised an eyebrow cheekily.
“Again, thank you, but no. Please excuse me. I’m tired, and I’m ready for home.”
I moved to get my coat from the booth and noticed Lara trying to hold Sebastian’s attention, turning his face back to hers and replacing his hand on her waist. He was staring at Vincent menacingly, clearly trying to escape Lara’s grip. I had no idea what his beef was with Vincent, but if things were about to get ugly, it was definitely time to leave.
“May I at least escort you home?” Vincent asked, catching hold of my arm.
I shook his hand off. “No. Thank you. It’s not far.” I headed for the exit, but I was sure I heard a faint “I know” blending in with the music.
***
The next morning I lay in bed as the sun rose and the light slowly grew brighter through the curtains. It had been a disturbing and restless night, with my mind racing. I got up, grabbed a quick slice of toast, and got dressed.
It seemed like forever since we’d last had a sunny day, and I was itching to get out in the open, breathe some cool, fresh air, clear my head, and give my aching limbs a good workout.
I grabbed my jacket and shoved a tiny pad and pencil into the pocket at the last minute, just in case. Knocking on Beth’s door as I passed, I spoke softly. “Going for a walk. See you later.” I wasn’t sure if I’d been heard. She and Tom had had a late night and were still sleeping it off.
The now-familiar path along the river had grown muddy and slippery with the recent rain, and I had to tread carefully so as not to lose my footing, but I didn’t stop. I noticed that the water level in the pond had also risen dramatically, but the pond was not my destination today. I carried on up and over the hill and, not wanting anyone to view my approach, made my way left towards the driveway, weaving surreptitiously through the trees along the serpentine route to the house. Lovell Towers hadn’t changed since my last visit, but under a now-clouded sky, it held a more sinister air.
This time I crept around the front face of the building, almost touching it, hoping to remain unseen under the high-set windows. I tried to rise onto my tiptoes to peep inside, but I wasn’t tall enough.
A wall protruded outwards at the opposite end of the house, joining it to the adjacent cliff face. A few metres away from it, I could plainly see the entrance to the mine. It was sealed from intruders by a heavy iron gate, dark and disturbing like a creepy crypt door. I shivered and turned away.
An arched opening in the wall beckoned, and I passed under it, walking along a winding path leading to the same kitchen garden I’d visited previously, but I didn’t enter it. To my right was a block of derelict stables, and to my left, I noticed that the back door to the house was slightly ajar. I couldn’t resist slowly pushing it open and stepping inside. As the door creaked under my touch, my nerves took hold.
“Hello,” I called, hoping that nobody would answer. They didn’t.
The door opened into the kitchen. It was quite a large room, very countrified, and not at all what I’d expected to see. High wooden cupboards filled the back wall on my left in a Victorian dresser style. They were painted a pale olive green and had a grey marble work surface, underneath which was a row of small drawers. I inquisitively pulled on one of the porcelain handles, but it resisted my grasp, not wanting to reveal the drawer’s secrets. To the right was a Belfast sink housed under a long, dirty window with cobwebbed corners, which looked out over the old garden. In front of me was another door, possibly leading to a scullery, and next to that was a rickety shelving unit which looked as if it had been quickly knocked up out of some rough scrap timber and painted to match the units. It was hardly the kitchen of an old manor house. I tried to picture the room bustling with activity, with servants preparing a lavish meal for a hundred guests, and couldn’t imagine it.
Floorboards creaked above my head and freaked me out. It was probably rats, but I wasn’t prepared to hang around to find out, so I quickly exited.
Back outside, I was drawn to the mine and edged curiously towards it. A rustling noise startled me, but it was only a squirrel scrambling up a nearby tree. I approached the gate and tried to peer inside. Dark stone walls led to nothing but pitch-black emptiness, and there was a faint noise in the distance as if the caverns were echoing distant voices from the past. Clearly, it was a seashore in a shell moment and my imagination was working overtime again.
I was about to turn away when I saw them: a pair of yellow eyes shining out of the darkness. I watched, mesmerised, as they grew bigger, closer, and they began to gain structure. White fur emerged and surrounded them, and a shape formed. Was it a dog? A wolf? No. It was a fox, a white fox, just like the one in my dreams!
Was I dreaming now? Everything felt real—everything apart from the animal in front of me.
I backed away until my back lay against the tree, but I couldn’t stop staring at the strange animal as it gracefully snaked through a gap in the bars and promptly sat down as if to guard the entrance. Our eyes locked, and the creature bowed its head and grew in size. Its fur shortened, magically becoming a flowing gown of sheer material; paws metamorphosed into hands and feet, and as the creature lifted its head, a beautiful woman with a huge mane of white hair emerged.
“Sophie Crevan. I have been waiting to meet you,” her magical voice almost sang out. “You have been chosen to be a light in this dark world, give comfort where there is no hope, and bringing salvation to many.”
Huh? What did that mean? This whole thing was too weird. I had to be asleep and having one of my dreams.
“WAKE UP, SOPHIE!” I shouted, pinching my arm.
It didn’t work.
“You are not dreaming, Sophie. I am the goddess Tokala. I have been watching over you as you’ve grown. My time will end soon, and I must discharge my duties. I am no longer flesh and bone, and my spirit cannot intervene to preserve the delicate balance in this world. That is why my seeker has passed the power to you. There are many things that you do not yet understand, but only you have the ability to halt a dreadful evil that grows strong as we speak.”
I closed my eyes and shook my head. It’s a definitely dream, just another stupid dream I need to wake up from.
“Be strong, my daughter,” the woman’s voice said. “Your dreams will guide you.”
Yes. Dreams. Exactly. Okay, come on now, Soph. Wake up!
I pressed my eyes tight, then sprang them open.
She’d gone.
She’d gone, but I was still in exactly the same place. If I had been dreaming, should I not be back in my bedroom in my comfy bed, instead of staring at some rusty old bars wondering if I was going insane? I was sure I hadn’t imagined it, so I must be crazy, either that or I’d been hallucinating—a remnant from the hospital drugs, maybe? Was that even a possibility? There had to be an explanation. It couldn’t have been real. Foxes do not just turn into beautiful women and inform people they have to save the world.
Shivering with unease along with the cold, I set off home. I needed to get back to a friendly place to think things through—not that I’d ever be able to discuss with Beth what had just happened. I could imagine the word psychiatrist cropping up if we had that particular conversation. But maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea. Perhaps I did need a professional to sort my head out, but then that would come with the risk of them throwing me into the looney bin. No. This was something I was going to have to figure out on my own.
By the time I got back to the flat, it was almost four o’clock.
“Where did you get to all day?” Beth probed as soon as I
walked through the door.
“I went for a walk. I told you.”
“When? When did you tell me? I don’t remember.”
“About half past seven. I knocked on your door to tell you I was going.”
“And you expected me to be awake? At half past seven? After the night I had? Mmm…” She closed her eyes in obvious remembrance.
I remembered too. It wasn’t as if they’d been quiet.
At that moment, Tom wandered through from the bathroom clad only in a damp towel, and I didn’t begrudge Beth a second of being up close and personal with his obvious charms.
“By the way, those flowers over there came for you,” Beth added as she bundled Tom back towards her bedroom.
I glanced over to the kitchen sink, which was filled with a huge bouquet of pungent-smelling, oriental-looking flowers, and wandered over to take a look. They were far too ostentatious for my taste. Whoever had sent them clearly didn’t know I would have preferred a bunch of daisies or poppies picked from the fields.
A small white envelope was tucked into the wrapping. I opened it and pulled out the card. Written on it in a flamboyant scroll was one word. Sorry. I stared at it, wondering who could have sent them. Who even knew where to send them?
Those faint two words ‘I know’ came back to me from the previous night. Vincent. Good grief. Didn’t he ever give up? I was tempted to throw the whole bunch straight into the bin, but I felt sorry for the poor flowers. It wasn’t their fault they were unwanted. Didn’t they deserve to be appreciated in their final days of life? We didn’t own a vase, so, instead, I arranged them in a pint glass and put them on the windowsill. Classy.
I spent what was left of the day on the settee with my laptop and finally emailed Mum with a few snippets of uni life and how I was getting to know the area, but I didn’t tell her about my crazy hallucination while trespassing on somebody else’s property. Somehow, I didn’t think that would go down too well. After I pressed send, I opened up the search engine and set about doing some research. I had to find answers somewhere and was prepared to sit there all night if I had to.
After a very long evening, I finally crawled into bed exhausted and more confused than ever. I’d found loads of stuff about foxes in mythology and folklore, which was all very interesting—particularly the stuff about alluring vixens tempting men—but there was far too much information to absorb all at once, and the Goddess Tokala seemed to be a total mystery. I couldn’t find any reference to her at all. I fell asleep picturing myself in a straitjacket and kicking myself for wasting my time on a pointless exercise when I should have been studying for a progress test next week.
Chapter Seven
“HAVE YOU thought about a costume yet?” Beth asked over breakfast. “I’m thinking She Devil—you know, all in red, high heels, false talons, flashing horns. What do you think?”
“Original, Beth. Not. Tacky, of course. Just you, in fact.”
“Well, I haven’t seen you come up with any better ideas,” she said, annoyed that I wasn’t as excited as she was.
“That’s because I’m not going,” I said adamantly.
“Oh, yes, you are. Don’t even think about bottling out on me. Aren’t you the tiniest bit interested to see Lovell Towers?”
“I have seen it, remember?”
“Not inside, you haven’t. Don’t you want to explore your future home?”
“Oh, very funny, ha, ha.”
I chose not to enlighten Beth to the fact that I’d already been inside, and if the truth be told, I was curious to see more. Maybe the answers I sought lay behind the old walls. There did seem to be a connection, but considering that most of the house wasn’t up to much, I didn’t think there’d be much exploring to be had at a Halloween party. The students would probably be confined to one room, and that was hardly worth getting dressed up for.
“You know Justin’s already hired his werewolf outfit,” Beth said, “and I think Marie’s going for the old faithful witch. So, come on, think of something,” she insisted.
I sighed. Beth could be impossible when she wanted her own way. Sometimes it was just better to give in. “Okay, okay. Gimme a chance. I’ll conjure up something passable.”
“Promise?”
“I promise. We’d better get ready now, or we’ll be late.”
After applying minimal make-up and tying my hair into a ponytail, I squeezed into my patchwork jeans, pulled on an oversized jumper, and added a large belt. The weather had taken a turn for the worse during the week, so after tying a long scarf around my neck, I tugged on my comfy slipper boots and headed for the door.
“Come on, Beth. We need to go.”
“I’m coming. I’m coming,” she answered in a fluster, appearing through her doorway and grabbing her car keys from the hall table. “Hey, Soph, your hair looks like a fox’s tail,” she said, laughing.
I took a step back to glance sideways in the hallway mirror. She was right. My reddened hair with its sun-bleached tips, all bunched together, definitely had the appearance of a fox’s brush. Oh, hell. Tokala’s words of ‘passing power’ flashed into my head. Please say I’m not turning into a fox. Was I? If I was, what would be next? Fur? Pointy ears and a snout?
***
That afternoon, I paid a visit to the ladies’. Through the walls of my cubicle, I heard a couple of girls enter the room. I recognised the voices immediately: they belonged to Lara and Megan. Easing the door ajar, I peeped through the crack.
“I can’t stand him always looking at her like that. Why her? She’s such a little wannabe, with the fashion sense of a hobo. What’s she got that I haven’t? It’s me he should be wanting, not her. I mean, look at me. I’m prettier than she is, aren’t I? Don’t answer that. I know I am. Any guy in his right mind would kill to get a piece of me. Why is he so obsessed with mouse features? Have you seen the way he looks at her? What’s wrong with him?”
Lara finally paused for breath.
“I don’t know. Maybe—” But Megan never got to finish her reply.
Lara continued to babble. “Everyone knows that the best-looking, coolest guy…him,” she said, “always goes out with the most popular and hottest girl…moi.” She pointed to herself. “That’s just how it is. Always has been. Who does she think she is? It’s not happening. I won’t allow it. Nobody does this to me. I don’t care who she is.”
“Um—”
“What gives her the right to come here, with her freckled face and her swishy hair, and steal my man?”
Comprehension dawned. She was talking about me!
“Actually, he’s not your—”
“I’ll have him. You’ll see. I’ll wipe that smile right off her pasty face.”
“So, when are you planning on snagging him, then?” Megan asked, finally able to finish a sentence.
“The Halloween ball, of course.” Lara fluffed her hair, pinched her cheeks, and looked admiringly at her reflection. “I mean, it normally wouldn’t be my scene, but seeing as my future husband’s family are hosting it, I think it’s my duty to go, don’t you? Besides, I’m going to have the hottest outfit there, and he won’t be able to resist me.”
Lara’s voice faded away as they left the bathroom, and I came out of hiding. The question was, now that I knew her little plan, was I going to do anything about it? Probably not. Sebastian could fight his own battles. It was none of my business.
***
“So, have you decided yet? It’s only a couple of days away,” Beth said as we descended the uni steps at the end of the day.
“Huh?” I’d only caught a few words. What had she said?
“Your costume. What are you going to be?”
“Oh, that. Um…” I turned to face her. “I was thinking Bride of Dracula. Unoriginal, I know, but easy. Long dress, a piece of net for a veil, a bit of fake blood, job done.”
“But there’ll be loads of—wow! Look at that!” Beth said, leaving her mouth gaping.
I followed her gaze to a shiny
black limousine parked at the bottom of the steps. The blackened back window was rolled halfway down, but I couldn’t see the occupant. Connor was standing near the back door, in obvious conversation with the passenger. His posture was relaxed and slightly slouched, with both of his hands shoved into his trouser pockets. Nodding his head a couple of times caused his ebony fringe to meet like curtains drawing before springing back into place at the sides of his chiselled cheekbones.
The window began to close, and Connor withdrew his right hand from its material confines, touched his nose, then held his palm aloft in a goodbye salute as the limousine set off and accelerated quickly, heading out of town.
“That must have been the great Mr Lovell Senior. What could have dragged him away from the city?” Beth wondered.
My lip curled and I shrugged. “Probably overseeing the hall preparations for Saturday.”
“Maybe. But wouldn’t you think he’d leave that to the little people? I mean, it’s only a kids’ dance. Nothing special.”
“True. I don’t know, then. Here to see the boys?”
“What are you making for tea?” Beth asked, randomly changing the subject.
I gave her arm a friendly slap. “Why is it always my turn?”
“You’re so much better at it than I am.”
***
That evening, I rooted out the black dress I’d worn to my dad’s funeral. I had no idea why I’d decided to keep it. It was a depressing reminder of a sad day, when I’d left behind a happier me and begun a much more withdrawn and solitary existence.
After Dad died, Mum had had to get more hours at work, and when she wasn’t doing extra shifts, she was looking after Todd. We were no longer able to afford family days out, so I gradually spent more and more time alone, painting.
I held up the dress to study it. I’d grown since Dad died, and I’d never fit into it now. Then it came to me. I had a black skirt that was a bit too see-through, and which I didn’t really like anymore. So perhaps if I used some of its material to insert a panel down each side of the dress, and maybe cut into the neckline to open it out, inserted another panel in the space, and added some flowing tips to the sleeves, it might just work. Then I should have enough of a strip left to make a veil, which I could fasten to my hair with a comb. Yes, that should do it. Better get started.
