Shadow Over Sea And Sky

by K H Middlemass

  She stopped for a quick rest when she reached the house. She didn’t go to the door; that wasn’t the plan. Instead she headed towards the garden, where she ran through the weeds and the overgrown plants towards the graveyard. She sped past the gravestones, belligerently propelling herself towards the cliff’s edge.

  And there was her mother, her white night gown glowing in the blackness. She was thin and spectral, a wraith gliding among the gravestones. Emily ran forward, the blood rushing in her ears as she careened towards Victoria. She wanted to call out, but she was too out of breath to do so.

  Her mother was walking towards the cliff side, her arms hanging by her sides as she floated along, step by step. She had to be sleepwalking, and Emily immediately cast aside the notion that you must never awaken someone when they’re doing so. Her mother moved fast despite her smooth steps, and Emily found that she had to jog to keep up. But she kept on, her heart thudding and her blood pulsing in her body, and tried to catch up with Victoria as she continued moving towards the edge. She felt the terror looming above her, threatening her with its horrors as she struggled to steady her breathing against the exhaustion that sat heavily upon her. She was not accustomed to running, and it was an activity that she had never cared for because it was so hard and time consuming. Now it was the most important thing, being able to run this fast, and Emily only wished that she could go even faster.

  Victoria’s auburn hair was whipping about her head in the wind and her nightdress blustered against the breeze. Emily felt her foot twist in her shoe and almost fell, stumbling forward and putting too much weight on her injured foot. She bit back a curse and pushed on, because there was no time for pain. Limping, she grew more exhausted than ever, and she thought that if she stopped, she might faint away and fail in her task. Her mother was so close that Emily could make out the fine lines of her body beneath the glowing white nightdress.

  Emily launched herself forward, expending the last of her energy, and collided with her mother with all the force that her small body could manage. She wrapped her arms around Victoria’s waist and threw her to the ground, where she landed face first in the soft mud. Emily lay there for a second, stunned and winded, before realising what had happened. She scrambled off quickly, desperately trying to catch her breath, and put her hands beneath her mother’s body before turning it over. There was a slight sucking sound as Victoria’s face was finally pulled from the mud. Victoria gasped for air and grabbed at the empty space in front of her, awakened by a sudden and consuming need for violence. Emily shifted forward on her knees and threw her arms around Victoria’s shoulders, burying her face in her upper arm. Victoria was immediately calmed, and she blinked hard as she took in her surroundings, looking down to find her daughter weeping quietly, as if she didn’t want anyone to know how badly she was hurting inside. The waves below them crashed on dependably, the only sound cutting through the air. It was almost comforting, listening to them there in the night.

  “Emily,” Victoria said softly, rubbing at her muddied cheek. “What are we doing out here and why am I covered in mud?”

  Emily’s head shot up at the sound of her mother’s voice, hope shining clear in her bright green eyes. It occurred to Victoria, somewhere in the back of her mind, that she could see her daughter as clear as day despite the darkness that surrounded them. It didn’t seem strange to her, but she wasn’t sure why.

  “Mum?” Emily sounded hesitant, and she was. Would this be her mother, or the false thing that paraded itself as her mother? Emily wasn’t sure what she would do; the idea was too frightening to even consider. She could only hope, and by now she was running low on such optimistic ideals.

  Victoria was certain that she could hear her daughter’s heartbeat and how fast it fluttered, like a bird’s heart.

  “Darling,” Victoria said, sitting up slowly. “I must have been sleepwalking.”

  She was alarmingly calm, but now was not the time to worry about such things. Emily only wanted to get away from this place as soon as she could. She helped her mother to stand up. Her body still hadn’t recovered from the running or the fall, but she was sure she could walk. And if she couldn’t, then she would make herself. Victoria, while a little shaken, seemed more than capable of standing and beginning the move back to the house. She leant against Emily and let her prop her up as they stumbled clumsily through the graveyard. Emily hadn’t noticed earlier, her mind had been preoccupied, but at night the graveyard took on a sinister quality that disturbed her already disturbed soul. She could only make out their shapes in the darkness, but all the way back to the house she couldn’t help but envisage ghosts rising from their resting places and setting out to haunt her to the end of her days. She tried to cast such fancies away; after all, she was already haunted.

  Her mother went with her willingly, but Emily could feel the weakness that weighed her down. It seemed to radiate from her as she leant against her daughter for support. She walked stiffly, a far cry from the smooth, airy walk of her sleep state. But for the time being, she seemed like a whisper of her old self.

  To distract herself from the ever-present shadows of the graveyard, Emily told Victoria about how she had come to find her. She told her about Christopher and how he had cried for her. Victoria took a sharp intake of breath.

  “Oh, the poor darling, he must be out of his mind with worry!”

  “Well, he loves you. Of course he’s going to worry. I told him to call for an ambulance,” Emily said, trying to ignore the growing pain up the small of her back that came from her awkward positioning. Her ankle felt like it was on fire and putting any kind of pressure on it was becoming increasingly difficult. “We’re getting you out of here, to a place where they can really take care of you.”

  She expected protestations; her mother was the sort of person that pathologically refused medical help even while at death’s door, but instead Victoria gave a small sigh of what seemed to be, to Emily, relief.

  “I should have told you before, Emily,” she said in a small voice. They came to the entrance to the graveyard and stepped back into the garden, which somehow seemed a lighter, safer place despite the facts.

  “Told me what?” Emily breathed, the tiredness singing in her bones. They staggered up the path, the house looming above them like a malicious spirit. She could feel its presence even from the outside, hostility pouring directly from the walls as they came closer to it.

  “This isn’t the first time this has happened,” Victoria said. “The last time I woke up holding the handle of the front door and I went straight back to bed. But I never said anything to you or your father. I suppose I didn’t think that it was worth worrying about.”

  Emily couldn’t stop herself from glancing up to the wide, black windows as she passed them, and what should she see but a silhouette against the glass, placidly watching them go. It was too dark for her to see, but she could imagine Volkov standing there, his eyes fixed on her with a twisted smile on his lips. He would be watching her struggle with wry amusement, the way he always did. Victoria’s eyes travelled to the same place, and she could see exactly who stood at the window. She put her head down, saying nothing.

  “Do you dream, when this happens?” Emily asked, subtly pushing her mother to move faster as she did so. She was growing increasingly uneasy in this place, like someone would jump out at her at any minute. Her twisted ankle throbbed, and she could feel it swelling in her boot with every pained step. She wondered if she would be able to take it off later, when she finally returned home.

  “Yes, and it’s always the same,” Victoria said, leaning more heavily on Emily’s arm and taking an uncertain step. Emily looked down and saw that her mother wasn’t wearing shoes; if they were the same size she would have offered hers up immediately. The gravel must have been cutting into the sensitive, soft skin of the soles of Victoria’s feet the whole time. If she looked back, would she find bloodied footsteps marking the path?

  “I hear voices calling me, and they so
und so sweet, so gentle that I feel myself rising up to meet them. They want me to go to them, and I find that I can’t say no.”

  Emily didn’t reply, only focused on holding up her mother’s body. She must have lost weight in the last few weeks; she felt much lighter in her hands.

  “Tonight, they told me to go to the cliffs, and when you’re sleeping things like that always seem like such a good idea, don’t you think?”

  Emily tried to imagine it. Her dreams had not been sweet, nor gentle. There had been no voices to coax her from her bed and out into the world, no luring words.

  “And there were eyes there, watching me in my dreams,” Victoria went on. “Red eyes, like blood.”

  Emily shrugged off the shiver that shot through her body. She forced herself to smile as she gripped at the arm Victoria had slung over her shoulder. They passed the house and began making their way down the gravel pathway.

  “It’ll be all right, mum,” she lied. “I promise. Everything will be okay.”

  A dark shape skittered across their path and Victoria had tripped in surprise, falling to the ground with incredible speed and pulling Emily down with her. Emily landed painfully on her knees, falling forward so that she was on all fours. Meanwhile Victoria managed to turn her body so that she landed on her back, which was surprising to Emily because not long ago her mother had been too weak to lift a slice of apple to her lips. Victoria landed heavily, but she lay there and blinked in confusion as she found herself unhurt and, when she inspected her arms and legs, unscratched.

  This must be part of the change,” they both thought, neither knowing that they shared the same idea. Emily couldn’t be sure if she was right, but Victoria could. She could feel it unfurling, deep within herself, and knew that she was losing her essence, the very thing that made her who she was. But she did not say this to her daughter. Instead she tried to push herself up, only to find that the resilience she felt before had left her, and she was once again weak and helpless. She went to stand only for her legs to buckle, and Emily scrambled to her own feet, almost falling as pain seared up her leg, grabbed her mother beneath the arms and lifted her up with a sudden, last-gasp surge of strength. But when Victoria tried to take a step she crumpled, like gravity was crashing down on her, and it became clear to Emily that her mother would not be able to make the journey back to the house on foot after all.

  She was so tired; her body ached from exertion and her head pounded along with her heartbeat. But she sized up the situation as quickly as she could, looking about to see what had run out in front of her, and that was when she saw it.

  A black wolf, as big as a Great Dane, stood only a short distance away from her and her mother. It stared at her, eyes glinting eerily in the dark. Its midnight fur blended perfectly into the night, but when its lips pulled back its teeth shone clear and white. Emily’s breath hitched, dizziness overcoming her for a second as she wondered if her eyes were playing tricks; But no, here it was, a different creature to the snow-white beast that she had seen that night from the window, and yet the same. A soft growling sound filled the air, a deep snarling ripping from the beast’s throat. Emily felt a spasm of fear convulse in her stomach and blinked hard, trying not to move too much. The wolf blinked its golden eyes, pink tongue lolling out of its mouth, snarling viciously. Yet it remained still; Emily could imagine the hackles raising on its back, bristled fur upright and furious.

  “Emily, what are you-” Victoria began to say, only to have Emily hiss that she be quiet, and she dutifully fell silent and unmoving. She would not reveal that she felt a strange kinship with the creature watching them in the darkness. The wolf wasn’t looking at Emily, but at her, because it knew. Victoria would have sworn on her mother’s grave that it knew what she was, and she felt deep within herself that she could be like that. She was certain that she could become four-legged, grow fur and become wild, but she remained silent and still because her humanity remained tied to her like a stone, holding her down. She loved her daughter, she reminded herself, and then cringed inwardly that she had to remind herself in the first place. There was one thing that she could try.

  Victoria held her hand out. Through her eyes everything was clear; the wolf might as well have been in daylight to her, and it was looking at her with that same clarity. She kept her hand held out, and the wolf cocked its head, seemingly puzzled by her actions. It reared up for a moment, like an excitable dog, before it turned and ran, disappearing swiftly into the inky night.

  Meanwhile, Emily went back to the situation at hand. Her mother was only slightly taller than her and about as thin, if not thinner. She wasn’t sure if it was possible, but she would have to try. She looked down at the twinkling town, as perfect as a postcard, and wondered what would happen if the people below them only knew what evil awaited them if she could not win the fight against it. Emily banished the thought from her head.

  “Put your hands around my neck and get on my back,” she commanded of her mother, squatting down and bracing herself. Her mother obeyed, holding onto her a little too tightly. With Emily’s help, she jumped up and wrapped her legs around her daughter’s waist. The weight wasn’t too bad, a fact for which Emily was incredibly grateful, and she hoisted her up, gripped at her legs and started walking, biting her lip against the agony.

  “Do you… remember…” Emily breathed in time with her steps as she made her way down the hill, “What… you said… to me?”

  It felt like Victoria was growing heavier with every step and she realised that she wouldn’t be able to talk for much longer, so when her mother didn’t respond she used the last of her words to say: “You said that… you didn’t want me.”

  Emily couldn’t wait to get her mother off her back, but there was still a way to go yet. She would soon turn left and head into the estate built exclusively for Caldmar Bay’s upper classes. And she would go back to her house and there would be an ambulance there, ready to help her save her mother, and she would gladly send her mother away to a safe place, where she could finally get better.

  But then it occurred to her that her mother probably wasn’t going to get better, and maybe it would only be a matter of time before the people at the hospital realised that there was something wrong, that Victoria was no ordinary patient. Her mother sighed against her back, easing her grip a little. Emily couldn’t see her face, but she could hear her when she began to speak.

  “You were… unexpected,” Victoria said. “We weren’t making too much money back then and your father and I weren’t sure if we could raise another child.”

  Emily swallowed; her mouth and throat were dry. Her skin prickled, the hairs on her neck rising. They were getting closer to home all the time. Emily imagined the ambulance and made herself walk, stopping only to help Victoria, who would slip down her back quickly and frequently. Her mother went on, and Emily listened.

  “I’m not going to lie; I did take some pills. I did try to… you don’t need to hear it. You already know.”

  Emily felt cold, uncertain of which Victoria it was that was speaking to her.

  “But it didn’t work. You get that stubbornness from my side of the family.”

  Emily didn’t laugh at her mother’s weak attempt at a joke. Victoria spoke again.

  “After that, your father was suddenly trying to find ways for us to bring another Van Buren into the world. And I thought about it, I thought about it for a long time, and I decided that I would see the pregnancy through after all. It’s not like I had some religious experience or something; it’s my body and my choice. I just thought that maybe I wanted you after all and that maybe these things aren’t always all or nothing. After you were born and I held you in my arms for the first time, I was sure. It just took me a little longer to figure out, I suppose. You were such a quiet baby, nothing like your brother. He came into the world screaming, but not you. You were silent.”

  Emily could see the flashing light of the ambulance now; they had made it to their street. There was a small
crowd of people gathered around her house, and it was only a matter of time before one of them spotted the girl carrying her mother on her back. Each of Victoria’s words was like a stone in her pocket, dragging her ever downward. These were all things that she didn’t have the luxury to think on right now. Only later, when she knew that her mother was safe and finally away from Volkov, would she able to figure out exactly what it was she felt.

  “Sometimes things like this are complicated,” Victoria said. “If you don’t understand now, you will one day.”

  Emily didn’t care to imagine herself as a mother or worse, pregnant, but she imagined it anyway. It wasn’t really the physical aspects that disturbed her, though she could certainly see why some women were infinitely distressed by stretch marks and weight gain and cravings for unusual foods. No, it was the very concept of pregnancy that cut straight through to Emily’s core. The idea of some other being, a thing apart from and yet a part of her; it was foreign but it could take over her body and make itself a part of her. She was deeply unsettled by the idea; it was, to her, the truest horror imaginable.

  A baby, a child. It was a strange thing to think upon but she did so regardless, turning it over in her mind for a good long while. What kind of mother would she be? Emily didn’t know, but she could sense from the dread she was feeling in her stomach that it would not turn out well. Emily tried to imagine the child that she may have one day.

  He – or she, for it shifted as she thought on it – had her eyes, that same intense gaze. Their pupils were that same pale green, the colour of the weeds that floated beneath the pure blue waters of the ocean. A sickly colour that she suspected her children would wear better than she ever did. But the child’s face wasn’t hers, it was Volkov’s. She thought of this phantom child and shuddered, thankful only that no such thing existed. Her arms remained hooked around her mother’s legs, repressing the urge to lay a hand upon her belly, as if her touch could connect her to some deeper thing that was far beyond her reach. At twenty-five, it all felt so far away.