Shiver the Whole Night Through

by Darragh McManus

  I reached the lodge – all clear, but no Sláine. She’d said nine, so I guessed she intended to keep to that. Still, I moaned, ‘Where are you? Why can’t you just be here, waiting around, ready and willing to take command?’

  What now? I debated my situation as I hauled ass back towards town, stumbling through the darkness, my boots making the shallowest of impressions on hard-packed snow. Should I go to Kinvara’s house myself, or wait for backup from Sláine? The two competing arguments pushed and pulled: urgency versus caution, risk-taking versus good sense.

  Eventually I reached the town limits and stopped. I could go left towards my house or right in the direction of Belladonna Way. Time check: half-seven. Time enough to check out Kinvara’s gaff and make it back to the lodge by nine. I shut my eyes and willed my feet to make the decision for me, take the pressure off poor doubting Aidan. They went right. Bastards.

  I summoned up every last ounce of courage as the yards passed underfoot and Kinvara’s house loomed ever nearer. Just walk by, I told myself. Start by scoping the place out. And if it seems empty …

  I was still uncertain if I genuinely had the balls to break in. We’d find out soon enough.

  Lighting a cigarette with shaking hands. Checking the time again. Nodding to a middle-aged couple I passed on the street. They might have been the parents of one of those kids Sláine attacked as they eyed me warily enough and scurried off quickly, but I didn’t have time to explain that it wasn’t my fault. I had to keep going.

  What am I doing? You’re doing what needs to be done, so shut your yaphole and quit whining.

  Do your own James Bond act, I thought. ‘Aidan Flood, international super-spy! He may not have the car, money or movie-star good looks, but he’s ice-cold under pressure.’ All this junk tumbling through my mind to keep it preoccupied and keep my courage up. I tried to remember stuff from movies or TV, about cops and spies and SWAT teams, all those tricks of the trade. Stick to the shadows. Check your exits. Always have an escape plan. Be prepared. Stay frosty. No one here gets out alive …

  Ugh. Where had that come from? That wasn’t even a line of dialogue – it was the title of some music autobiography …

  COLDSTAR.

  I hadn’t noticed the nameplate on Kinvara’s front wall the last time I was here. Maybe he’d only put it up since. Anyway, there it was, granite, a classical-style font: COLDSTAR. Stupid name for a house, but it made sense for this demented asshole. And it was another mark in the book of evidence against him.

  I’d made it this far. Might as well keep going, Aidan. No guts, no glory. He who dares. Only the brave. Blah blah blah.

  No lights on at the front of the house – which didn’t mean it was empty. I decided to peek around the back, try and discover if Kinvara was at home. I took a look around, saw the street was deserted, and was about to dash over the lawn towards the side of the house when I had an idea. I found a large stone and flung it across the grass – not so far that it’d crack off the house but enough, I hoped, to set off any lights that worked on movement.

  Nothing. Okay. Definitely no weaselling out now.

  Thoughts of Sláine came to mind. Help me, I asked her. Protect me, camouflage me, wrap the night around me.

  I had another look around and grit my teeth and scuttled over the grass to the corner of ColdStar, just around the side, into a shadow blacker than midnight. I stopped, breathing as quietly as I could. Then I inched along that side, moving like a gangly crab, staying in the darkness. I reached the rear corner. A large, unkempt garden. Still no sign of anyone. I hunkered down and sort of waddled along the ground, as quietly as I could manage. No lights showing back here, either, which still didn’t mean anything. I could just about make out a large crow, glowering at me from ten feet away. For some reason I wasn’t afraid or anxious – almost getting used to the dark bastards by this stage – and mouthed silently to it, as though the bird could possibly understand, ‘Quiet as a feckin’ dead slug, got me?’

  I reached a window and thank God I was crouched down because just then, I heard movement inside the house. Shiiiiit … Steps, soft but crisp on the wood floor. A man’s voice singing a show tune. I recognised it from some distant memory of my mother making us watch the film this came from: ‘Tonight, tonight … isn’t just any night … ’ A pleasant voice, mid-range, baritone or maybe tenor. It didn’t sound precisely how I remembered Kinvara’s voice, but then again that was speech and daytime, this was music and night-time.

  Silence. I held my breath. Steps in my direction. Oh Jesus … I squeezed my eyes shut and my body as low as it would go. Don’t make a sound …

  Kinvara was at the window. I could hear him even though he was silent. I could feel his presence, as if a shadow had weight and was leaning on me. Still afraid to breathe. The sash window popped, rolling up an inch or two, and I thought my heart was going to give out. Now I really could hear him, as he bent and put his face to the opening. He breathed in zesty winter air – don’t remind me, pal, I’m nearly asphyxiating here – almost smelling the atmosphere. My leg was tingling with cramp, concertinaed up as it was. I asked myself, panicked, what would Sláine do right now? My fingers curled into fists …

  Then he was gone. Evidently satisfied that he’d imagined whatever he thought he heard or felt, he drew his head back in and shut the window. Slowly, I eased out carbon dioxide and took in oxygen. This was a bust: Kinvara was home, there was nothing I could do. A sense of relief mingled with shame at my cowardice, but what could I do? You can’t fight your essential nature.

  After waiting sixty seconds for safety’s sake, I crept back towards the street, padding through the shadows. And there was Caitlin Downes, of all people, when I reached Belladonna Way. She mustn’t have seen me coming round the side of ColdStar, or if she had she didn’t care, because Caitlin came straight over and blocked my way, saying urgently, ‘We need to talk. Please, two minutes.’

  I hustled her away from the house, down the street twenty yards, stopping under the camouflaging darkness thrown by a gigantic tree, so thick it blotted out much of the street light even though its branches were bare. Couldn’t risk Kinvara striding out his front door, blasting out that Broadway song, and catching me staring in his direction like a paralysed, guilty goldfish.

  ‘Uh, okay,’ I said to Caitlin. ‘So.’

  I realised my hands were on her shoulders and removed them. A spark flared in the back of my mind: maybe I could send her over there. Ring Kinvara’s doorbell, draw him from the house on some pretext, distract him long enough for me to slip around back again and jimmy that window …

  I couldn’t believe I was considering this kamikaze move. Needs must when the devil drives, I suppose, and we almost literally had the devil driving here. But it didn’t matter – the opportunity passed and before I could ask, Caitlin had launched into what sounded like a rehearsed spiel, barking it out mechanically while staring at the ground.

  ‘I was following you,’ she said. ‘I admit it, okay? I’m sorry … Was waiting outside your house earlier and you went for a walk in the woods, although why you’d go there any time, not to mind a frosty night, I don’t know. But I followed anyway because I really need to talk to you. I waited out front, freezing, I wasn’t going in there with or without you, but then you came out and I followed you back to town. So here we are.’

  Still no mention of my incursion into Kinvara’s property. I guessed Caitlin hadn’t registered it because she was so single-mindedly focused on getting out whatever she needed to say. Now, I figured, we were coming to the meat of the matter.

  Caitlin went on. ‘Aidan, I’m so sorry. For everything that happened, for … ’ She nodded to herself, determined. ‘Yes. For everything I did to you. I did it – can’t blame anyone else. I was a total bitch and I know it. It’s been eating me up inside for months, and you know what? I deserved it. Every bit of guilt, every sleepless night, I deserved it all. I was horrible to you, and I’m sorry. For cheating on you with that idiot, ignoring
you afterwards … For not having the decency to give you your speak. Let you get angry and tell me you hated me, and take it. I owed you that. And … I’m sorry for not sticking up for you. When everyone was bullying you, I hated to see it and didn’t join in, but that wasn’t good enough. I should have defended you. Should have said, I’m the one you ought to be picking on. Me! I’m the one who did something wrong. Aidan did nothing. He was a perfect gentleman. Still is.’

  She looked up at me. I didn’t know what to say, if she wanted me to say anything. Caitlin whispered, ‘I’m so, so, sooooo sorry. I have no excuse or explanation. I was … stupid, probably embarrassed at my actions. I felt like a fool and blamed you, in some irrational way. I don’t know. I was wrong, that’s the sum of it. I hurt you and I’m sorry. And if you don’t accept my apology, I think I might just jump off a cliff.’

  She was crying. And there, in the frozen heart of our undying winter, my own heart thawed. I had forgiven Caitlin, probably a long while ago – if I didn’t know it before, I knew it now. And I was glad Sláine hadn’t got around to wreaking her vengeance on this girl who almost killed me.

  In a soft voice I said, ‘It’s all right.’

  She said tentatively, ‘Really?’

  ‘Really. Forget it. I accept your apology.’

  ‘Really really?’

  ‘Totally and absolutely. All done, in the past, it’s dead. Let it go, you’ll be happier for it.’

  She smiled through the tears, sniffing her snotty nose. ‘Okay. Thank you … I know there’s no chance of getting back together. I mean I’d like that but I think there’s someone else … ?’

  ‘There is.’

  ‘Good. I’m happy for you, honestly. You deserve someone great.’

  She stood on her tiptoes and kissed me on the mouth, a friendly sort of embrace, a farewell.

  I said, ‘Your lips are warm.’

  Caitlin smiled, bemused. ‘You sound surprised.’

  ‘Nah, it’s … uh, the cold night and all.’ What time was it? I probably needed to get gone to Shook Woods. ‘Listen, I gotta roll. Now I’m the one saying sorry. But I do, it’s … kind of important.’

  She stepped back. ‘Of course. Sorry, I’m keeping you.’

  ‘Nah, you’re okay. I’ll go now, though.’

  ‘All right. Bye, Aidan. Take care of yourself.’

  ‘You too.’

  We moved in opposite directions, away from Kinvara’s house, the wellspring of my nightmares. Thirty seconds up the road, I spun around and called back.

  ‘Hey, Caitlin?’

  She turned. ‘Mm-hm?’

  ‘Hope to see you soon.’

  The Infinite Potential of Zero Degrees

  I went straight back to the forest where I met Sláine as agreed, though not as agreed at nine, or at the hunting lodge. Instead she was waiting at the main entrance to Shook Woods, my phone’s display showing 8.30 p.m. – I’d given myself that much time to hike in to the lodge. I was startled when I saw her there, glowing like a special effect in a movie. Unearthly, transcendental. So beautiful I thought I’d die.

  She said, ‘Come on, let’s head,’ and we started walking briskly in along the path, Sláine energised and strong, seeming taller than me, as she often did. I half-expected her to lift me and whoosh us through the forest, but she didn’t. She seemed anxious somehow, hesitant. I guessed that she was lost in thought and worry about our showdown with destiny. The moment that might destroy the world. Maybe she had a plan and was going over the details. That could wait: I had urgent news to tell.

  ‘Here, listen,’ I said. ‘I’ve worked it out. Our mystery man.’

  She looked at me, said nothing, kept moving.

  ‘It’s this guy, Sioda Kinvara’s his name. Some rich prick moved here a few months ago. Lives in a big old creepy house on Belladonna Way.’

  ‘What makes you think he’s our villain?’

  I listed off all the evidence I’d accumulated. Sláine listened impassively. She didn’t seem to be buying it, for some reason.

  ‘Who else could it be?’ I asked, impassioned. ‘Besides, you’re the one put me on to him.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘I dreamed about you. And you were humming this tune, the same one Kinvara’s got as his ringtone and I heard him play on piano. The prosecution rests, Your Honour.’

  ‘Not the most persuasive argument, counsellor. It came to you in a vision?’

  ‘Yeah. Dreams have meaning, didn’t you know that? Like, Freud or someone worked it out. And I dreamed about you.’

  She smiled at me, enigmatic, the first since we’d met: ‘Did you, though … ?’

  What did that mean? She’d really appeared outside my window, and I’d crawled over, half-asleep, insensible, thinking I was imagining it?

  I shook my head and said, ‘Here, never mind dreams or Sigmund bloody Freud. Kinvara’s our man, I know it in my bones.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Sláine said. ‘I think … yeah. I think you’re probably right.’

  ‘Well, great. Thanks for that show of confidence. So look, what’s the strategy? I was thinking we could draw him out somewhere, a place where he’s not in control. Somewhere of our choosing. Then you handle the demon some way or another, and I clock Kinvara over the head with a lump of wood.’

  I laughed nervously. Sláine didn’t respond. The night was darker now, a slim sliver of crescent moon lighting our way. I didn’t mind. I knew Shook Woods like the back of my hand by this stage – I could have walked it blindfolded. And she was with me. Sláine wouldn’t let me fall, she’d never allow anything to hurt me, I knew that. I trusted her judgment and the purity of her heart.

  Still, I wanted some idea of what we might do.

  ‘Eh – Sláine? Are you going to answer?’

  She snapped, ‘What?’, frowned into space, looked away, and finally smiled at me. ‘Sorry. A bit preoccupied. It’s not you.’ She shook her head, as if trying to loosen out whatever tensions and pressures might be in there.

  ‘So what do you think? Draw the bastard out?’

  ‘Um … you know what? Let’s just go to the lodge and sit down and see where we’re at. I have half a plan but I need to work out the finer points. Is that all right?’

  ‘I … guess so. Yeah, okay. You have a plan? Excellent.’

  ‘Sort of a plan … Listen, Aidan, don’t worry. When it all happens, we’ll know what to do. You’ll know. Won’t even have to think – it’ll come naturally, your reaction. Just … have patience. Almost there.’

  I said, ‘Sure.’ I wasn’t sure, at all, but didn’t feel I had much of a choice. ‘At least give me some kind of heads-up, yeah? Like, wink at me or something. They always do that in movies.’

  ‘Sure,’ she said dryly. ‘I’ll wink at you.’

  Still Sláine didn’t move us at super-speed; still we walked, like regular people, silent. A bird flapped from its perch and flew across the sky. What was there to say anyway, I told myself. Whatever will be, will be, and all that. I tried to convince myself I really believed it, that I was stoical and philosophical. I think I even half-succeeded.

  To pass the time and fill the silence I thought about my parents and siblings. As I mentioned to Podsy in that letter, I hadn’t said goodbye. There wasn’t time, as it happened, with my treks back and forth to Shook Woods and detour via COLDSTAR, but I wouldn’t have in any case. My folks would have tried to stop me if they’d any idea of what I was heading into. The two little ones would have cried. So would I, probably. I pictured them, sleeping now, Sheila in her tiny room, Ronan in his tinier room, little more than a converted cupboard. I could see them, looking so small and defenceless, little mouths open, breathing softly, safe there, innocent of all the bad things in this hurtful world. I mentally blew a kiss back at my home and wished the four of them God speed. Then I wished it for myself and continued to strike out into the blackness.

  It had just passed nine when we saw the lodge in the distance. The crumbling old stone, moss and ivy,
the familiarity of it – how reassuring it seemed. I could feel myself tense as we came closer, though – some autonomic response I couldn’t control and didn’t want to fight. In fact, I welcomed it. If tonight turned to shit and my mind went cuckoo-bananas, maybe my body, my primal nervous system, would step in and continue the battle. Maybe.

  We stopped at the door. I said, ‘Ladies first?’

  Sláine smiled wearily and gestured towards it. ‘Nah, you go ahead. It’s the age of equality, after all.’

  ‘Okay. Whatever.’

  I reached for the handle, opened the door inwards. A soft light exited the lodge: candlelight, warm, organic. That was the first warning sign but clearly it didn’t register strongly enough because I continued on inside. Like a dumb naive lamb being led to the abattoir.

  The second warning was a sound: someone there, humming a familiar four-note refrain. ‘Dum-dum-dum-DUMMM … ’ A chill descended on me. Panic like an explosion, a thousand Roman candles cartwheeling and fizzling across my brain. But too late for panic, too late for anything, because Sláine had entered the lodge too, swiftly locking the door, and now was moving behind me, coming nearer, the cold preceding her like a warning of bad intent.

  And I was looking at the face of Sioda Kinvara.

  He stood by the far wall, dead centre, staring at me. I was frozen in shock, couldn’t talk, my mind in turmoil, speech centres scrubbed clean of any language up to the task. We held the stare between us.

  After an age Kinvara said quietly, ‘It’s not what you think.’

  I could sense Sláine right behind me. Her voice in my ear, almost wistful, whispering, ‘He’s right, Aidan. It’s not what you think.’

  A twist of pain, as if I had literally been stabbed in the back, not just metaphorically. She wrenched my arm up and wrenched me around so I faced the armchair. And the middle-aged man sitting in it, holding a glass of something dark gold – and pointing a handgun at Kinvara.

  Sláine said wryly, ‘Told you I was working on a plan. Unfortunately for you, it’s not the one you wanted me to have.’