Nevermor
Page 46
As on every day before, Nora was at her desk, busily balancing accounts, making inventory lists and seeing to whatever business needed her attention. She was alone in this, but endured the solitude. Though she could have had a multitude of adoring children at her feet, she chose to be alone.
Nora had never considered herself to be a cold woman. Hadn’t she done her duty by the children? She gave them more than they would ever get in the workhouse or on the street. Why would any of them want to run away from that?
Some did, apparently, and she had recently lost three of them to the misconception that the grass would be greener. It baffled her, but there was nothing that she could do. She merely had to shake her head at it and continue on with her own life. Unfulfilling as it was, at least she had a roof over her head.
She had just dipped her pen once more when a bump at the threshold drew her attention. Nora lifted her eyes from her letters and jerked back with a start at the pale apparition in her doorway.
The girl was standing there in nothing but a tattered gown, wide-eyed, but somehow healthier than when she’d left. The dark circles were gone from beneath her eyes and her skin boasted a glow that only the sun could offer. She was holding a young boy in her arms who looked positively wild, without a shirt or shoes, covered in dirt and something that looked like red paint.
“Wren!” the woman gasped. “In God’s name, where have you been?”
These two looked as though they had been living in the woods for weeks. That was impossible, and yet they could not have been living on the city street. They were a different kind of dirty, stained and earthy.
“You were right,” Wren said immediately. “You were absolutely right before. I was being selfish.”
“Where is Henry?” Nora asked suspiciously. The girl ignored her.
“I want Max to have a good life,” she said. “I want him to grow up.”
It seemed like a very odd thing for her to say. Nora looked at her skeptically, wrinkling her pasty forehead.
“Could you let that family know he’s still here?” Wren asked. “They can come get him. It’s not too late.”
“And what of you?” Nora asked her. “Did you intend to come back? I’ve already filled your bed.”
Wren stared at her, her eyes wide and damp like a doe’s.
“Could you just put me up for long enough to see Max off, and then I’ll leave,” she bargained. “I’ll sleep on the floor until then. Just please tell me it’s not too late for them to take him!”
Nora appraised her carefully, keeping her own expression firm. This girl was not one of hers any longer. She owed the child nothing, yet there was a tiny prick in her heart that bled for this one. She’d seen a lot of children come and go; she couldn’t afford to be too sensitive, but…
Nora sighed. “It was foolish of you to leave in the first place. I think I could have made things work for you, Wren. Perhaps not for Henry, but for you. As for Max, I never sent a letter to the Ausbrooks to say that he was gone.”
The girl lit with hope, and looking on it now, Nora saw a hint of the childish innocence that had long since left that face.
“I thought that if they went through the trouble to come back, they might at least take one of the others,” Nora went on. “I suppose you came back at just the right time. They’re scheduled to arrive tomorrow.”
Wren looked as though she had been handed a second chance at life. She had, Nora guessed, and she was a lucky one. Her brother Henry must have decided not to come back – that his chances out there were better – but Wren had finally realized the way her life had to be. She had few choices in the end if she wanted to live. She had learned that there was no sense in fighting.
“You can stay here until they come for him,” Nora told her. “After that, perhaps we’ll see what we can do with you.”
Wren didn’t even seem to hear the last part of that.
“Thank you so much!” she gushed. She was starting to tear up, but Nora didn’t need to see that.
“Go clean up and dress yourselves properly. You know your way around. And for heaven’s sake, attempt to do something with his hair!”
Wren hurried out and left Nora there, shaking her head in confusion. She didn’t know where the children had been and she wouldn’t ask. Nora was surprised that they had returned, but she knew Wren wasn’t meant for that sort of life. Sometimes it only took a different sort of experience to put one’s priorities in order.
2
The other children were glad to see that Wren had returned, showering her with hugs and kisses that she received blankly. When they asked about Henry, she told them that he was in a happier place, and she tried not to cry. They asked her a great many questions about Nevermor, always believing that was where she had gone. They wanted her to tell them about her time there, but all she would say was that it had been a nice dream.
Max seemed confused to be back at the Home again, as if he had already forgotten that he had lived here before. When Wren looked at the dormitory again, lined with all their small beds, she wondered if it was still familiar to her. Had it always looked this way, so dismal and gloomy? After her days in the sun, being confined here seemed like a terrible punishment.
Though the others were vying for her attention, she kept to herself as much as possible. She did not belong among them any longer, and it would be harder to say goodbye if she came back so fully. She remained distant, and that night, she told Max of his own fate.
“Tomorrow, you’re going to get a new family,” she said, trying to smile. “They’re going to take you to a beautiful house, and you’re going to have everything you’ve always wanted.”
“Aren’t you coming too?” he asked innocently. Wren shook her head, trying to be encouraging even though her heart was breaking.
“No, I can’t go with you.”
“Who’s going to protect you?” he wanted to know.
“Don’t worry about me. I’m going to be with Rifter and the others. They’ll look after me.”
Max looked very confused, his young brow furrowing, and she saw the first signs that tears were going to erupt.
“Listen,” she urged him, giving him a playful shake, “you’re getting a better life. You’re going to get a mommy and daddy who love you, and you won’t have to worry about the nightmares anymore.”
“But I want to go with you,” he whined forlornly.
“I need you to be brave,” she encouraged him. “Pretty soon, you’ll forget all about it, and you won’t remember anything except how happy you are and how much you love your new family.”
“Will I ever see you again?”
“I’ll always be close,” she said, smiling at him sincerely. “If ever you want to see me, just close your eyes, and I’ll be there in your dreams. As long as you hold onto that memory, I’ll be with you.”
Max threw his arms around her then, and she was surprised at how she held back her tears. Her own words had consoled her somehow, and she felt that if she could just hold onto her memories of him, he would be there with her, unchanged forever.
3
The next day, the Ausbrooks came as planned. Wren did not engage them, but let Miss Nora take Max out. The young Mrs. Ausbrook was thrilled to see the boy again, full of smiles and warm words. They presented Max with a toy soldier, and that lifted his spirits immediately – even put a smile on his face.
Wren watched them take him away through the dirty upstairs window, and when they put him into the carriage, he didn’t look back. Wren was sad to see that. Had he forgotten her already?
I can’t think about that. This is the way it has to be.
She had resolved herself to this, and she knew where she belonged. Her place was with Rifter and the others. They were ready to build a new life in a place of beauty and light, and would continue to fight back the nightmares in order to defend what was theirs. She understood the need for it now. Some things were worth fighting for.
That night, Wren lay awake on th
e floor in the old, familiar dormitory, unable to sleep. She didn’t know when Rifter would return for her, but she hoped it would be soon. This place was foreign to her now – a false reality. She didn’t want to remain in this world any longer than she had to.
Wren had too many memories here that she aimed to forget.
Epilogue
The beach was quiet beneath the stars, save for the footsteps of the boys who walked along it. For now, they were nomads – roamers without a home – but they had time to find a new one. All they had was time.
They trekked toward their former dwelling to see what the fire had left, resolved to accept whatever they found. The boys were sad to think that they had lost it all, and yet excited by the idea of finding a new place to dwell. Change was an adventure, and what was life without adventure, after all?
“Do you think we could live on the beach?” Mach asked.
“Too much sand,” Finn complained, kicking at it.
“I’ve always liked the jungle,” Toss spoke up.
“Too many bugs,” said Finn.
“We’ll find a place when Rifter gets back,” Nix said, adjusting his tourniquet. “He’ll have to approve it anyway. No sense getting ahead of ourselves.”
“Who knows: maybe the land will have changed by then,” Sly added. “There may be new places to explore.”
Rifter had gone to take Wren back to her old life one last time – a thing he’d never done – but he was intent on going back for her after she had finished what she needed to do. The Pack would not let him forget. The twins were especially sad to see the young one go, but they had accepted that since it was what Wren wanted. She knew best.
“You know, I have a good feeling about it all this time, mates,” Finn declared, taking a deep breath as if filling his lungs with the wind of change. “I think it’s over for good.”
“I guess we’ll see,” Sly said, pausing to stretch and look out over the peaceful ocean.
“Will life be boring now?” Mach speculated.
“Still plenty of nightmares to go around,” Nix assured him.
“I think what happened this time was a good thing,” Toss said proudly. “We didn’t just save the world. I think we saved Rifter, too. I sort of feel like a hero.”
“Pirate wenches love that, right Finn?” Mech teased.
Toss blushed and Finn laughed heartily. “Don’t ask me! It was Nix who was talking that shit.”
“Don’t bring me into this,” Nix scolded, but he was smiling with them.
They moved along, aiming for a place to make a temporary camp, but it took them a few steps and quite a bit more bickering before they noticed that they were missing one of their number.
Sly was still standing there where he’d stopped, looking out over the water. The expression on his face was of complete confusion. Whatever he was staring at, he was absorbed.
Finn cupped his hands over his mouth. “Sly! Are you going to come with us, or are you going to take root there?”
“Do you see that?” Sly asked them, reaching for the scope. He fumbled with it, adjusted the lens and looked again. The rest turned their faces out to the ocean and froze. They had all seen it now, but not as well as he did through the magnifier.
Out on the horizon, there was a large black cloud, stretched lengthwise across the sky for as far as they could see. It wasn’t a storm cloud and yet it wasn’t a nightmare. The cloud was like an ink spot that bled into the firmament, staining the heavens.
“What is that?” Sly asked to no one in particular, squinting as if he might understand it better.
The Pack stood there, staring toward the black horizon. None of them said a word.
***
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The Second Book in the Nevermor Trilogy
Forsaken Dreamscape
By Lani Lenore
Forsaken
Years have passed, the seasons fade
A sacred world bleeds; dark decay
The angels weep for ruined dreams
As demons choke the land to screams
An aged wonder, all forsaken
A missing force forgotten,
Awakened
Prologue
Storms… This is a night of storms. That was all Wren could think as she walked along the narrow ridge of the roof beneath the darkened sky. A vicious wind blew her fair curls all about as the moon shone down on her from beyond a cloudy haze. The beacon winked at her mischievously, and she began to feel doubt.
Wren remembered the tempest – the way lightning had flashed so violently as thunder growled in the amber sky. She had not been away so long that she had forgotten. She could recall the storm – though perhaps not as well as the way Rifter’s face had looked when he’d peered adoringly into her eyes.
Rifter… He was the one who cared about her – the only one who could save her now. She wanted to see him again, desperately, but he was not here. Wren did not understand, and could not quite ignore the circumstances. Could this not be put off until the storm was over? A soothing flow of whispers discouraged her from thinking. Through her tangling hair, she saw a tiny spot of light dancing before her, and though she could not understand the language of the fairy creature, she understood the message.
It was from Rifter. He was inviting her back to his world of dreams. Nevermor was calling.
The line of orphans – all eighteen of them from Miss Nora’s Home – marched along the roof, guided by the light of the fairy wisp. Dark tendrils of smoke rose from chimneys in London’s twilight, adding to the dark shadow of night overhead. She could smell the smoke, a sure sign of warning on most occasions, but no alarms were set off in her mind.
Rifter had promised to come back for her – had promised not to forget – but yet he had sent his companion to retrieve her instead. Wren was almost certain that this wasn’t right, but she could not question it, perhaps for the soft reassurance of the fairy’s spell, urging her forward.
I will go, Wren thought languidly. Yes, I will fly there.
The others had already gone on before her – had already taken flight off the eaves of the house, laughing gleefully. Wren would join them. Without questioning further, she closed her eyes, and with a contented smile on her lips, she prepared to step from the roof.
Chapter One
LONDON, 1877
1
It was the sound of screaming that drew Wren back from the outer nothingness.
Peering through the dark of her room, she could hear nurses bustling down the hallway, muted as nuns in their soft-soled shoes. Shadows of hulking orderlies played along the bricks as they fought with the shrieking inmate in the cell across the hall. A screeching door gave way to tears, and the patient’s shadow flailed about, her limbs slinging violently in all directions.
Wren lay still in her own cell, and after a few moments, the screaming faded in the distant corridors. The manic patient had been silenced, unconscious now; off to dreamland and the bloodletting chambers. The ward was quiet once again. Wren kept herself quiet as well. She did not want to be next. Instead, she rolled over and pulled the thin blanket up to her chin.
I must try to sleep, she told herself, but she never did sleep – not anymore.
Perhaps it was impossible that she did not sleep at all, even though she was convinced she did not, but she was even more certain that she did not dream. She could not remember the last dream she’d had – not a sensation of wonder, impossible fantasy, or whisper of a kiss – especially now that she was here in this place. This discouraged her, and at that thought, she felt trouble brewing in her stomach until she could no longer lay still.
Wren sat up on the thin mattress, through which every spring of the iron frame twisted into her back. She reached beneath the bed to retrieve the journal she’d been allowed to keep, along with a blunt pencil. It was her only possession within the stark room that could offer h
er solace. The pages would be her confession.
Turning to a fresh page, she began a new entry of her thoughts, though she did not know the date.
Once again it has been a night without dreams, she wrote, and therefore no nightmares, but I awaken with the same fear. I fear that…
Her hand hesitated on the page. She thought of what she would write next – thought of Witherspoon reading it – and she could not bring herself to go further. She closed the journal, put it away with the dust, and rested back against the bed in resignation.
But her fear did not leave her.
Wren’s inability to dream kept her constantly troubled, for if she could not dream, then she could not hope to get back to the place where she belonged.
I may not find Nevermor again, she thought sadly. It was not the first time.
Wren had never forgotten it, that secret land beyond the sea of dreams. She longed for it daily, but could not get back, no matter how hard she wished or how often she tried. It could only be found through dreams, after all, but since Rifter had brought her back from that place as a last favor, it had been impossible for her to create her own dreams, let alone see that sandy beach where she had first washed ashore.
Was it her own fault that she could not find that world? If she'd ever sought escape, she needed it now more than ever. Never in all her life – despite what other fears she’d had – had she ever imagined that she would be locked away in an asylum, accused of a debilitating madness. Then again, she’d not predicted most of the details of her life beyond her father’s house.
She remembered the first days here, crammed in a cell with many other girls – some as timid and frightened as she was, others explosive – and yet they were all the same in the eyes of their captors. They were faceless and less than human. They were a collection of pretty dolls with long hair and glass eyes, meant to be observed and occasionally toyed with.