by Dianna Hardy
Then the ground gave way, and she was trying to scurry backwards, only the thing holding her wouldn't let her move.
The crack had grown and become a huge hole in the ground. The thing holding her dragged her towards it.
NO! She flung her head back as hard as she could and succeeded in hitting something solid. Whatever was holding her lost its grip a little, and she took that moment to elbow it as hard as she could where she thought its solar plexus might be. The thing made a horrendous noise and let her go.
And now a Roundhouse to the head, she thought, as she swung her leg. It caught it and twisted. Mary yelled, dropped to the floor then froze in place. She could see it now that she was facing it – the light from the portal painted its face red.
What. The. Fuck?!
It was the walrus demon from her dream. Only this time she wasn't dreaming. She knew this, because there was no pain. She was pain free. That meant this was real.
Screaming in blind panic, she made for the cell door, but it was locked and everyone was still sleeping and there was no way out. It came at her again from behind and she side-stepped it, but it caught the back of her shirt. The shirt tore. Buttons flew everywhere. Gwain's shirt. Gwain.
"Gw—"
She was yanked back by her hair, and her head smacked the ground. She heard something crack – her skull? Her vision swam, and she was moving. No, it was lifting her – towards the hole in the ground. She tried to speak, but blood filled her mouth and she choked on it.
It held her over the yawning.
No, please…
Then it dropped her.
Chapter Ten
Amy's body thrummed with her anger and magic.
Don't kill Etienne, don't kill Etienne, don't kill Etienne… If she repeated the mantra enough times, maybe she'd actually listen to it.
He appeared before her as mist in the first instance, that quickly solidified into the eighty-two year old Elder of The Witch Council – the man who had abducted her when she was five, wiped her memory of it, brought her up as the only father she'd ever known, then locked her away in 1956 with no memory of any of the previous. What an utter dickhead.
He looked straight at her, all snow white hair and mud brown eyes; standing tall despite his years. The lines of age on his face were etched deeply, giving him a countenance that looked cold and heartless … or maybe that was just him.
She could see through him slightly – he was immaterial, not corporeal. Guess I won't be killing him after all, then.
"You evil son of a bitch," she began, without even attempting to hide the shaking in her voice. Now that she saw him, here, in front of her, she couldn't separate all the emotions fighting for purchase within her. Anger, hurt, the deep cut of betrayal and the well of grief for the loss of her childhood and her mother, all tumbled around inside her like caged beasts.
His eyes held a deep regret within them, but she was all out of sympathy. He didn't deserve an ounce of her compassion.
"I trusted you … I trusted you, with everything I had." Her eyes brimmed over with tears. Furiously, she wiped them away. He didn't deserve those either. "What the hell is wrong with you, that means you could do this to someone? Did I ever mean anything to you?"
"Amy—"
"No! Don't you say my name, you never get to say my name again after what you did. You stole it from me, took my memories … you took my mother." Half a sob escaped her, breaking up her last word. And truly, her mother must have been broken all those years ago.
"Your mother is alive. Her name is Felicity Langdon. She lives in the Cotswolds. She's never stopped looking for you."
Oh, shit. She sank to her knees, not able to hold herself up, as flood gates opened and twenty-two years of grief poured out of them.
She was unable to contain it, to contain herself, and thankfully, Etienne just stood there. If he approached her now, or threw any magic her way, he'd kill her, because all her defences lay on the floor, under the weight of her sorrow.
"I'm truly sorry. I'd hold you right now if I could," he said.
"I'd kill you right now if I could," she replied.
A far-reaching hurt swept over his countenance, but was quickly overcome by the usual lack-lustre expression she'd grown accustomed to.
"You're going to go home soon. Your Dessec is coming for you."
"You didn't kill him then? That was you, wasn't it? The snow leopard?"
"A dream animal I conjured, so I could have this small amount of time with you. And no, it didn't kill him, as I knew it wouldn't."
"So that's it? He's coming to get me, and you're just going to let me go?"
"Yes."
She pulled herself up to standing, the deep ache in her soul almost unmanageable. "Then why? Why, for God's sake? Why all this?" She waved her hand around at the bedroom that wasn't hers.
"I didn't know this was where you would end up. When I did the spell, I did it in a rush – forgot something vital. Very unprofessional of me. I was consumed by a fear and rage that I'd cultured over fifty years, and God help me, it's blinded me, changed me, twisted me into a monstrosity I've never wanted to be. I've become the villain I thought I was chasing."
"You're not making any sense."
He ignored her and carried on. "My hatred of demons began fifty-five years ago to this date. When the connection that we have – the one I placed upon us – told me you had bonded with the Dessec, I saw nothing but black. I looked upon your face in the park and I wanted you gone from my life, God knows you've reigned it for so long. The past and present merged within me – I couldn't think straight. I was ready to send you to the Shanka's dimension, but Katherine appeared and that option was no longer valid. I had no time to think of another way before your blood hit the ground, so I uttered the first words that came to mind – the words of the Alica ad Horarium."
She racked her brains for the translation. "The Hourglass Spell?" Yes, that's what it was called – the spell that took you back to a pivotal point in someone's past. "You took me back to Paul May's past?"
"Not consciously, but this is where you've ended up, yes."
"Who is he? Why does he think I'm his wife?"
"Because of a time loop. I should have seen it. Now that it's happened, it's as clear as day."
"Well, nothing's clear to me at all."
"Paul May was an accountant. He and Elizabeth were childhood sweethearts. They married young, he had a successful company in London, but they moved to Scotland, partly to save money for a better future, but mainly because they both loved it here – the rugged landscape, the rawness of it…
"In 1956, at the beginning of October, Elizabeth May slit her wrists. Paul never found out why. He was shocked to the core. He loved her with his life; he thought she was happy. He found her where she had killed herself: under the apple tree in their garden. Apple trees are magical doorways to the land of Faerie, you'll know from your training. He didn't know that. He knew nothing of magic then, or magical creatures. He only knew his life had ended because hers had. He took her in his arms, poured tears over her, and prayed … with everything he had, he prayed. And maybe that was the first bit of magic Paul ever did; maybe the fay were listening that day, because unbeknownst to anyone, a time loop was created on the breath of his prayer – a point where the future and past meet and become one. Elizabeth May gasped, took in a breath, and opened her eyes.
"You know what happened next because you've been living it this past week. The only thing you don't know is what happens now."
He took a step forward.
"Would you like to know? Would you like to know what happens from this point on?"
She gripped the edge of the bed frame to stop herself from shaking, but it wasn't working. She knew – knew – that everything was about to change in ways that would alter her life forever. Maybe she should say no. Would not knowing make everything better or worse? But she had been without memory for so long, so she met his eyes. "Tell me," she whispered.
He glanced at the clock on the shelf, above the bedroom fireplace. "In eight minutes, your demon is going to arrive just there," he nodded to her right, "through a wormhole. About ten seconds after that, Paul is going to walk through the door with a breakfast tray full of food, including your favourite, hot apple crumble with cream. He'll see the demon, in all its ferociousness. You'll try to stop it all from happening. You'll try to explain, but Paul won't understand. All he will see is you in pain. All he'll see is the demon abduct you; take you through the portal. Panic will seize him. He'll try to follow you, but the wormhole will close.
"Having only just got you back from the brink of death, he will refuse to accept that you're gone. He will turn every stone to find you, and in the process learn everything he can about magic and demons so he can hunt down the one that took you. At the very least he will avenge you, if he cannot find you. He will choose to let go of his former life completely; after all, he was weak in his former life, unable to save you because of his ignorance of otherworldly things. He will vow never to be weak again. He will change his name, assume a new identity, and start a new life. His eventual mastery of magic will take him into the prestigious Witch Council, where he will succeed in working his way up the ranks…"
"No…"
"He will not realise it, but his hatred of demons and overwhelming grief will consume him – twist his heart…
"Stop…"
"He will love and marry again, because life goes on, and love is not black and white. He'll wed a powerful witch called Eleanor, Katherine's mother – she named Elena after her. Life will be good for a few years. For a few years, he'll be happy and almost feel as if he has laid his past to rest. Then, his beloved, independent and rebellious daughter will get involved with a Shanka demon, and his hatred of demons will be renewed tenfold. Around the same time, he will meet Felicity Langdon."
"Etienne…" she shook her head, pressing her palms against her wet cheeks. Her chest convulsed with sobs that had become stuck in place; with air she couldn't take in. She was breaking down – her world was falling apart…
He carried on. "She will come to The Council, a heavily pregnant shapeshifter looking to hide from her estranged and violent husband. Paul May, now known only as Etienne Green, will think nothing of it … until she gives birth and names her child Amy – Amy Langdon. When he hears that name, a hope will flare in his chest, so bright, it will blind him to the errors of his ways – to the darkness of everything he will do in the coming years – because all he will see in his mind in that second, is his beautiful Elizabeth, that last day he ever saw her, fury personified and so lost to him, screaming, 'my name is Amy Langdon'."
"Please, stop … Oh, God … I can't…"
He paused.
She placed both her hands over her mouth, squeezed her face, bit her fingers, but still her chest shuddered with overwhelm, and her tears streamed…
"I wasn't sure it would really be you," he continued. "But as you grew, I could see Elizabeth in your features. Look … this one…" He pointed at one photograph on the windowsill – a black and white shot of Elizabeth May at the age of around five or six. Sure enough, it was Amy's childhood face that stared back at her. With no memory, she couldn't see it. Now, it was clear.
"Five years after you were born, your mother announced, she was leaving The Council's sanctuary. She was determined not to hide from her husband forever; to get over her constant fear that he was forever stalking you both. Panic seized me at the thought of you leaving – it was this day all over again. That afternoon, I waited at the lake you loved to run to, and I stole you from your mother. God help me, I did not see what I was doing – that I was re-enacting the actions of the very demon that abducted you, or so I had thought at the time… I did not see any of that, I'd been in such a dark place for so long. It's only now, with the loop playing out that I can see it … that I can see everything."
A wretched cry left her as the truth sank in.
He took another step forward.
She struggled to breathe; to form words … "Who am I?" she forced out.
"You are both Amy Langdon, and you are Elizabeth May." His voice broke. "Elizabeth utters your name in 1956 before you were even born, and Amy is taken by the man who hears it. One cannot exist without the other, but neither can they both exist at the same time – no one can be in two places at once. That is why you lost your memory. Your … dream meeting … with the Dessec in the desert, took you out of time for a split second, and out of the rules that govern time, which is why your memory returned."
He glanced at the clock again.
"And now time has run out. I can't stay any longer. This is the last you'll ever see me, I swear it."
"Wait…" But she had no idea what to say – none at all. Anger had been annulled by shock. "You're just going to go?" she stuttered through her tears. "You d-drop all this on me and you j-just leave?"
"God, I don't want to leave you like this, not here, not now, not this way, but I have no choice. Neither of us can stop what happens next; not even your time travelling Dessec can. The time loop cannot be undone, or the future as we know it will cease to exist. I would undo it all in an instant if I could." He reached out to lift her chin up with a shimmering hand. It passed through her, but she lifted her head anyway. Translucent tears danced in his see-through eyes. "You asked me if you've ever meant anything to me at all … You are everything to me. Live, Amy. Don't let what happens here scar you the way it did me. Don't live in the past, always looking to fix something that cannot be fixed. Live in the present, always.
"I am so, deeply sorry for all I have done to you." He paused, then added, "If you ever find it in you to tell Elena any of this, tell her I wish I had known her – that she's grown into one amazing woman." He started to fade.
"No, wait … Paul – I can't save him?" Amy asked, already seeing his devastated face in her mind. The futility of it all hit home.
Etienne smiled. It reached his eyes, and it floored her. There he was … there was Paul – the twenty-seven year old hiding in the eighty-two year old.
"Oh, you have saved me – I just didn't know it at the time, and you don't know it yet. Goodbye … Lizzie."
He was gone.
Stunned.
She was stunned. And shaking, and still crying … had she not dried up yet? She felt dried up.
A 'whooosh' noise sounded behind her to her right. She turned. Beautiful, rainbow coloured lights swirled in a circle, then out from it stepped Pueblo. He smiled in relief when he saw her, then frowned.
"You're crying … are you hurt?"
And she just stood there, dumbly shaking her head, because all she could think was, ten seconds … I've got ten seconds to change everything.
"You have to leave," she said, new tears springing up out of some invisible reservoir she didn't know she had.
"Did someone hurt you?"
"No. But he mustn't see you." Oh, God, this was coming out all wrong.
A footstep sounded outside the door, and time slowed down. Amy saw everything play out in front of her, and there wasn't a thing she could do about it.
The door swung open as Paul kicked it with his toe whilst balancing a tray of food in his hands. "Hey," he beamed at her. "I've got your favourite." And then he saw her crying. And then he saw Pueblo, who had half-shifted in rage.
Yellow eyes and fangs, all emphasised by a bone shuddering roar, went flying at Paul.
"NO!"
Amy flung herself in front of Paul.
Food went everywhere.
Pueblo's teeth ripped through her shoulder. A yelp of agony left both her and him, and he threw himself away from her, onto the floor, face aghast and de-shifted. "No. Oh God, no, no…"
Paul grabbed Amy and pulled her behind him, but she pushed him back and shielded him instead.
"Pueblo, I'm fine."
She hoped she sounded at least a little soothing, because it was the best she could do under the circumstances.
"I d
idn't see you … I couldn't stop…"
"I know – it's not your fault."
Pueblo looked distraught, but there was nothing to be done about that right now.
"Lizzie…"
She looked back at Paul who had sunk to the ground. Fear ruled his features as he stared at Pueblo … and stared. She saw his future laid out before him, the hardening of his heart … and it broke hers. "Paul, I'm so sorry."
"Don't hurt her again," he directed at Pueblo. "I'll give you anything you want, anything … I have money."
Pueblo was clearly warring with the suggestion that he'd hurt her again, and the fact that he had in the first place. "Amy," he said, his face a shade lighter than usual, "we have to go now – the wormhole won't stay open much longer."
"You're not taking her!" screamed Paul, desperately.
Pueblo growled. Amy walked right up to him.
"Lizzie, no!"
She crouched in front of him. "Look at me and listen. This is not your fault. I'm fine." Although, she knew she didn't look it with her tear-stained face and bleeding shoulder. "But this man is innocent – you have to give me a minute."
The fire in his eyes died down – she must have said something right. She placed a hand on his knee. "I'm yours," she whispered.
He gave her a searching look, then nodded. "But you don't have a minute. Sorry. Twenty seconds tops before that hole closes."
She swallowed the panic that rose in her, and hurried back to Paul.
He grabbed her hands, then cupped her face. "You're so brave – he could have hurt you. Did you see his eyes? He might have escaped from an institution." He was babbling from fear.
"I'm not a lunatic, I'm a demon," shot back Pueblo.
Amy snapped at him. "Did I not ask you to give me a minute?"
"Demon? See? Clearly insane."
"Paul, sshhh." She cupped his face in her own hands. Fresh tears fell – she'd be wrinkled by the morning … if she survived to see it. "He is a demon, Paul. But not all demons are bad. Do you see that circle of rainbow lights?" she asked, gently. "That's something I have to go through."
He went silent as he looked upon it.
