by Jen Storer
‘It is all too much for the wicked old devil,’ said the Donut Lady but there was only kindness in her voice. ‘And this wound on her arm, there is something unnatural about it. Something wicked festers there.’
Reafen’s arms lay outside the blanket. Only now did Angus notice the bandage was still on her forearm. It was stained with bloody seepage — the wound was obviously infected. And Reafen’s face was pale and drawn despite the thick make-up, her deep-set eyes ringed with mauve shadows.
As Reafen lay snoring and muttering on the couch, it occurred to Angus that the old goblin woman was, in fact, gravely ill.
Ava knelt beside Reafen and felt her forehead. She peeled back an edge of the bandage and peeked at the wound. ‘This is beyond my Singing Stones,’ she said forlornly.
‘My Barney will watch over her,’ said the Donut Lady, tossing them each an umbrella. ‘He will let us know if there is any change for the worse.’
Barney sidled across the room, giving Ava an apprehensive glance. These past days he’d seen enough magick and mystery to last him a lifetime. His left arm was in plaster. His burned hands were bandaged.
‘Watch over Reafen,’ said the Donut Lady. ‘Give her water, ice, milk, bread. No chocolate, no sugar, no sweeties, no matter how much she pleads.’
Barney nodded gravely.
‘And, should she wake, give her that tonic on the sideboard every fifteen minutes,’ added the Donut Lady.
Barney nodded again. ‘Sorry,’ he said, glancing at Ava and the Donut Lady. ‘Sorry for what I did, to the boat and all. I lost me marbles there for a time. Sorry ...’
‘Make up for it now,’ said the Donut Lady. ‘Be kind, be attentive. Be the Barney I have always loved.’
‘And if she wants to go home?’ said Barney, glancing at Reafen. ‘If she wants to go back to her shop?’
‘You will escort her,’ said the Donut Lady.
Barney nodded. ‘I’ll carry her meself,’ he said. ‘I’ll find a way, even like this.’ He held up his bandaged hands.
‘Good man!’ said the Donut Lady.
Barney pulled off his beanie and stood on tiptoe. The Donut Lady kissed him passionately.
Urgh! Angus shot a look at Ava but she just smiled shyly.
‘It is time,’ said the Donut Lady, roughly releasing her boyfriend. ‘Let’s be gone.’
Angus draped the narrare case across his body, Ava took his hand and together they walked out into the stormy night. The Donut Lady adjusted her shawl and followed — blowing Barney another kiss as she passed him by.
‘That kid’s got your clothes on,’ said Barney under his breath. ‘He looks a right ninny.’
Fortunately Angus was outside and was spared this snide remark. He had completely forgotten the purple hoodie, which, all things considered, was probably for the best.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
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Dawn’s visitor
The Donut Lady kicked off her shoes and placed her guitar case against the wall. She surveyed the lounge room.
‘These are the speakers?’ she said, looking up at the ceiling.
‘Yes,’ said Angus. ‘The Prof spoke through all four of them, it bounced around and echoed. I thought it was some kind of joke ... at first.’
The Donut Lady said nothing but Angus could almost see her mind ticking over. All three of them stared at the ceiling. Ava’s face was expressionless. Four little black boxes, thought Angus. Does Ava have any idea what we’re talking about? Do we have any idea what we’re talking about?
‘Hello? Dad?’ he said hopefully. He knew he looked pathetic but he was beyond caring.
‘Ava and I will sleep here for the rest of the night. We will be perfectly comfortable with a couch each, thank you very much,’ said the Donut Lady.
Angus knew she was dismissing him. And he knew it was pointless standing here, hoping, waiting, for his father to somehow materialise.
He glanced at the clock. It was just after 3 am.
‘We will rise at six-thirty,’ said the Donut Lady. ‘I will see to it.’ She flicked the guitar case open. ‘Keep it close,’ she said as she handed Angus a gleaming weapon. ‘It will help you sleep soundly. Go now.’
Almost delirious with exhaustion, Angus staggered to his bedroom, fell onto the bed and was unconscious within seconds. On the floor beside him, the sword glowed softly. In the dark room, lying unceremoniously across a pile of dirty clothes, the blade had a luminosity that was downright creepy.
In the lounge room, Ava collapsed onto one of the couches and drew a blanket up under her chin. This was Martha’s blanket, Ava could sense it; the energy was defiant and ... unhappy. Her eyes stinging with tears, Ava quickly fell into a deep sleep.
The Donut Lady flicked through the family’s DVDs. What a woeful collection. The Lion King, Finding Nemo, 101 Dalmatians. And what was this rubbish, The Brave Little Toaster? What utter bish bosh. She muttered Russian expletives as she flicked through the childish selection. She wondered about Maxwell Jack. Exactly how old did he think his children were?
Finally she came across a film that looked promising — The Matrix. Yes, for sure, this looked intriguing. She loaded the DVD into the player, put up her feet and pressed ‘play’. There was much to think about, much to unravel. Action films always helped her think. And they were a quick, effective way to pick up handy tips.
What was left of that fretful night seemed interminable. The Donut Lady woke many times, convinced someone was casing the house, trying to break in. But each time it proved a false alarm. There were cat fights too. The murderous wailing and growling was at times almost human. It made her hair stand on end, and she thought sadly of dear sweet Vlad, her missing Russian blue. At one point she even heard someone running across the roof, but in the end she convinced herself it was a dream ... or a very large possum.
Sometime around 6 am the Donut Lady woke with a thumping heart. This time there was definitely someone outside, near the front of the house — there was no doubt at all.
She sat up and listened. The morning air was still after the previous night’s storm. In the distance the city seemed subdued, the traffic thin and yet to gather pace.
The Donut Lady turned her head. There it was again. Only this time it was closer. Footsteps. Someone creeping up the front verandah stairs. This was no possum. And it certainly was not a cat.
Ava must have heard it too. She sat bolt upright and rolled off her couch in one smooth movement. She stood perfectly still, her gaze flicking from side to side as she found her bearings.
The Donut Lady raised a finger to her lips, warning Ava to stay silent. As if choreographed, they bent in unison. Each silently drew a sword from beneath their sleeping place.
‘Go to his room.’ The Donut Lady spoke in little more than a whisper. ‘Stand guard at his door.’
Ava nodded and, gripping her sword tightly, she slipped out into the hall. If this visitor were Varla, whatever form she was in, be it human or otherwise, she would sniff out Angus first, especially if she had discovered his heritage. Especially if she knew he had the blood of Mevras. The thought sent a chill down the goblin girl’s spine.
The Donut Lady crept toward the front door. She reached for the handle and turned it smoothly. On the other side of the door, she could hear someone breathing — someone or something panting.
The Donut Lady raised her sword and pulled the door open.
CHAPTER FORTY
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Death by sea
Oh!’ The Donut Lady dropped to her knees. At the sound of her cry, Ava came running.
‘Graini!’ Ava dropped her sword and threw herself across her friend. Graini lay in a heap on the welcome mat. The Donut Lady was hunched over her.
‘No,’ said Ava as she lifted Graini’s head — it lolled helplessly. ‘No, no, no.’
‘It is all right,’ said the Donut Lady. ‘She is alive — frozen and drenched t
o the bone but alive.’
Graini’s breath was laboured and raspy, her eyes sunken. She clung to Ava weakly.
‘What happened?’ asked Ava, tears spilling onto her cheeks. ‘Graini? Can you hear me?’
‘Move aside now, Ava,’ said the Donut Lady, glancing about warily. ‘Quickly. It is not safe out here.’
Wiping her tears, Ava rose reluctantly and held the door ajar as the Donut Lady scooped up Graini and quickly carried her inside.
Angus stood in the centre of the lounge room, looking dazed and befuddled. The voices had woken him.
‘Graini?’ he gasped as the Donut Lady strode into the room. ‘Is Martha here too?’
When he could not see his sister, he bolted to the front door and flung it wide. The morning sun assaulted him — his tired, scratchy eyes stung and poured with water. The scent of damp frangipani was cloying and sickly. Across the road, their burly neighbour — the one who had caught them in the hibiscus bushes — stood by his four-wheel drive and studied Angus quizzically. Angus slammed the door and ran back into the lounge room.
‘Martha?’ he said again hopefully. ‘She’s here too, right?’
Ava shook her head sadly. ‘Graini has come alone.’
Ava arranged the cushions as the Donut Lady set Graini down on the couch, bundling blankets and knee rugs around her. The early morning was warm, almost sultry, but Graini was chilled to the bone. Her lips were white and bloodless, even the tips of her fingers were drained of colour. Seaweed and other tidal muck were tangled in her hair.
‘Water,’ Graini managed to whisper thickly, her tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth.
Ava turned to Angus. ‘Please, Angus. I cannot leave her side — I cannot leave her for one moment.’
The Donut Lady stood by the front window, peeking out between the curtains. Angus hurried into the kitchen. He knew he should be grateful to see Graini, at least a little happy on Ava’s behalf, but all he could think of was Martha. He flicked on the tap. Graini was alive but what about his little sister? What had happened to her? Nausea swept through him and he gulped down the water himself before washing the glass and refilling it for Graini. As he returned to the lounge room, he had to fight the urge to launch himself at Graini, to shake her, to plead with her to tell him what had happened.
Slumped against the cushions, Graini sipped the water gratefully. She was too weak to hold the glass herself.
‘Oh, Graini,’ said Ava, ‘I cannot believe my eyes. I cannot believe you are here ...’
Graini began to shiver. Her teeth chattered violently.
‘I will make my special hot remedy,’ said the Donut Lady. ‘You have ginger in the kitchen? Spices?’
Angus shrugged doubtfully. ‘Try the pantry,’ he said. ‘But they’re probably all past their use-by date.’
‘I will find something,’ declared the Donut Lady as she left the room. ‘Even if I must search the garden.’
‘Graini,’ said Angus once again, ‘I’m sorry but I have to know. What happened? Do you know where Martha is?’
‘I ... she ... we ...’ stammered the goblin girl and she reached for the water. Ava gave her another sip and Graini spluttered and coughed.
‘It’s urgent,’ insisted Angus. ‘Time’s running out ...’
Graini closed her eyes and murmured — a string of incomprehensible words, another language perhaps.
‘She is trying,’ said Ava. ‘She is trying with extreme dedication.’
Ava squeezed Graini’s hand. Graini seemed to have slipped into sleep. She could not be roused.
Angus paced the room. This was unbearable. This waiting. This wondering. He needed to act, to do something. In the background he could hear the Donut Lady rattling about in the kitchen. He even heard her stomping about on the back verandah, where there were a few overgrown herbs and orchids.
Ava was taking out her Singing Stones just as the Donut Lady returned.
The Donut Lady wagged a finger disapprovingly. ‘Leave be your magick stones,’ she said firmly. ‘Give her this, it will be quicker. And besides, your stones cannot feed her.’
The brew smelt sweet and comforting. Ava held the steaming mug under Graini’s nose, hoping she would smell it in her troubled dreams.
The goblin girl opened her eyes slowly and pushed her knotted hair back from her eyes. With Ava’s help, she sipped the drink cautiously. She sipped again. Then she gulped it down hungrily.
‘Many good things I have added to the milk,’ said the Donut Lady proudly. ‘Cinnamon, turmeric, honey ... And other things you might not believe.’
Ava flicked a puzzled glance at the Donut Lady but said nothing — Graini was responding, that was all that mattered.
When the mug was drained, Graini rested back on the cushions and spoke. The others had to lean close in order to catch her words.
‘We flew out over the sea. Each of us held in the claws, the talons, of the giant bird that was ... Varla.’
Ava groaned with despair.
‘Varla wheeled about aimlessly, baffled and bamboozled, it did seem. She spread her enormous wings wide and hovered in the storm clouds. We hung there, suspended, blinded by the rain, for an endless, aching time. And then ...’ Graini drew a rough breath, ‘Varla spoke to me.’
‘Yes?’ said the Donut Lady.
‘What did she say?’ said Angus desperately. ‘Tell us!’
‘She said, “Die, goblin. You are of no use to me.”’
Ava swallowed her tears and hugged Graini close.
‘She opened her claws,’ said Graini softly. ‘And as I plummeted, she flew into the darkness beyond. I could see her no longer.’
Horror welled up inside Angus and he grabbed Graini’s arm. ‘Did she drop Martha too?’ he asked, his voice ragged with fear. ‘Did she drop Martha into the sea too?’
Graini shook her head. ‘No. Varla left me to die. But she held on to Martha. I heard Martha scream as I fell but Martha did not fall alongside me.’
It was a small blessing but a blessing nonetheless. Martha had not been dumped in the ocean and left for dead. She could still be alive. But where had Varla taken her and what was she planning? Angus was about to press for more details when Ava spoke.
‘How did you survive, Graini? How did you return to us?’ Ava directed her gaze at Angus. ‘Varla was most vile and sincere when she cursed our Graini to die. Goblins hate deep water, Angus Jack. We are very poor swimmers, despite our most valiant efforts. It is a notorious crack in our biological make-up ... It is our blessing to have boats who understand this,’ she added meekly. ‘Boats who do not resent our shortcomings.’
‘So how did you survive?’ said Angus.
‘There was a large, yellow floating device,’ said Graini. ‘A strange New World apparatus with the words Weather Buoy inscribed along one side. I clung to this device. I held on with all my might, even though I was not sure of the weather buoy’s purpose and I was wary of its capabilities.’
Angus heard the Donut Lady stifle a chuckle.
‘When I finally managed to clear my mind of the pain and the terror,’ said Graini, ‘when I rose beyond the hafvilla, the bewilderment, I used my mind to alert Nydo.’
‘Nydo?’ said Angus.
‘Our dearly beloved boat,’ said Ava.
‘Nydo found me and brought me to shore. From there I had to find my own way. From there I had to stagger, unobserved, to this door. I could go no further ...’
Graini closed her eyes. Ava stroked her friend’s hair thoughtfully.
‘She is exhausted,’ said the Donut Lady. ‘She has said enough. Leave her to sleep for now.’
The Donut Lady picked up her sword. ‘Ava, stay here, keep watch over Graini, observe the doors and windows. Angus,’ she said, ‘fetch your sword. Then show me the room where your father disappeared. There is much I need to observe. We must begin our search fully informed, fully prepared.’
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
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br />
The Donut Lady talks
Angus felt his heart thump as they mounted the stairs to the Prof’s study, but it was not exertion that made his heart beat so hard, it was dread. Angus had not been back to the room since the Prof had disappeared. He had not looked at the destruction with a clear eye. Now, as they reached the door, he feared what they might find on the other side. Would things be worse? Would there be greater terrors to confront, darker ... magick? Angus hesitated.
‘I will go first,’ said the Donut Lady.
Angus shook his head. He was on the brink of panic but he still had his pride. This was his home, his loss, his problem.
The door was slightly ajar. Feeling like a clumsy novice, Angus held the sword before him and hoped for the best. He pushed the door with his foot. It slowly creaked open.
A warm breeze blew across the room to greet them. Everything was still in chaos. The window was wide open and last night’s storm had added to the mayhem.
Angus stepped cautiously into the room and crunched across the broken glass. The Donut Lady made a beeline for the cheval mirror, or what was left of it. She reached up and ran her hand around the curve at the top of the frame. It gaped in the centre, the wood jagged and split.
‘Rent in two,’ she muttered.
On the far side of the room, Angus pulled the window shut.
‘An enormous force was at play here,’ said the Donut Lady, her hands still resting on the mirror frame. ‘Enormous. Driven by greed and rage, the quest for revenge ...’
Angus turned from the window and faced the Donut Lady. ‘Who are you?’ he said abruptly.
The Donut Lady looked surprised, even though she had known such questions would eventually come. ‘I’m your friend,’ she said rather flippantly.
‘No, seriously,’ said Angus. ‘Who are you?’
The Donut Lady sighed. She valued her privacy above all else but, well, sometimes one had to stick one’s nose in other people’s business and get involved. It was the necessary way.
