(Skeleton Key) Into Elurien

by Kate Sparkes

  Please don’t fall. I’m coming.

  The floor shifted under me. I froze as I watched the key slip closer to the edge of the hole, then shrieked as the floor beneath my section of carpet crumbled and fell, clattering into a darkness that sounded like it went far deeper than the surface of the ground. My upper body was now supported only by a hammock of ancient carpet.

  Shaking, I lay on my stomach and scooted closer until the tips of my fingers grazed the skull end of the key, which had miraculously stayed still. I gritted my teeth. A little closer…

  I touched the key again and cried out as it slipped and tumbled into the black hole.

  “No!”

  I resisted the urge to dive after it.

  I pushed myself to safety and then broke down, sobbing into my scratched-up hands. Maybe there had been no chance of going back. But if there had been, it was gone.

  Pull yourself together, girl, my grandmother’s voice admonished from deep in my memory, not unkindly.

  I dragged myself to the stairwell and bumped my way down on my butt, as I would have when I was a little kid. I didn’t fully trust the stairs, or my ankle. The office door at the bottom hung off its hinges and had been cracked down the middle. I went in, afraid of what I’d find, but the room was empty of people or bodies. I found a first aid kit in the desk and did a fair job of wrapping my sprained ankle tight in a tensor bandage. I was able to put some weight on it after that, though the pain persisted. I swallowed two expired ibuprofens dry and put the bottle into my bag.

  My town needed me, and I now realized that maybe I needed them, too.

  Gladys still rested in her place outside the inn, though the old Volkswagen had taken a few hits from falling debris that had dented her roof and hood. She looked like a foreign object, something from another world. I’d slipped behind the wheel before I remembered that I didn’t have the keys, and that it was unlikely that anyone had fixed her in my absence.

  “You’re good for nothing, Gladys,” I said aloud. “But it’s nice to see you again.”

  I sat for a few moments to sort through my thoughts and formulate a plan. I needed a solid one now more than ever, but I needed information first. I’d limp into town, find out what had happened, make sure my parents were okay, then do what I could to help with rebuilding.

  We had a lot of work to do before tourist season, thanks to Verelle.

  I limped deeper into town, which showed no sign that as much time had passed here as had in Elurien. For all I could tell, I’d hardly been gone. Dust blew in tiny tornadoes through the asphalt play area of the school, and I paused. My stomach tightened as I felt something like the tingle I’d caught from the key.

  Magic, lingering in our world.

  They were wrong about her not having magic here. What if they were wrong about—

  A dark speck appeared in the blue sky and flew closer until its wings stood clearly silhouetted. I scrambled under a picnic table and watched in horror as one of Verelle’s angel-soldiers soared over, armed with a golden sword.

  Where does one even get a golden sword around here? I wondered.

  Not the point Hazel. Angel. Verelle’s guards.

  Verelle.

  My breath became shallow, my thoughts jumbled. My chest tightened as though squeezed by giants’ hands.

  Not now. I squeezed my eyes closed, then opened them and forced myself to orient my senses, to recognize the feel of the ground beneath my hands, the damp smell of the ground, the bright green of the new blades of grass that pushed up from the dirt. Real things. Not speculation. Not fear.

  The soldiers had lingered in Elurien long after Verelle was gone. Their presence here was a problem, but as long as she was gone and we could get some help from outside, we’d be okay. I wasn’t going to panic. I’d just have to be more careful.

  I waited until I was sure the soldier was gone, then limped to the ravine behind the school. At least the trees would provide some cover. I didn’t meet any people hiding in the woods, but a black-and-white cat that lived at the used bookstore chased me down and wound between my legs, tripping me up. He’d never been particularly friendly when I’d worked there during high school. Times had changed.

  “Hey, Tomie,” I whispered. “What are you doing out?” That pampered beast had no street smarts. It was a wonder he hadn’t died from lack of heated pillows and liver treats yet.

  But of course he didn’t answer in the way I could have reasonably expected in another world. He looked up and let out a loud “MEEERF!” before darting back into the bushes.

  The ravine path led me to downtown Fairbrook, which no longer lived up to its name. I stuck to the shadows between the drugstore and the bookshop and took in the damage. It looked like a war zone. Cars lay flipped in the street with their windows smashed, and front rooms of stores had been gutted by fires now burned out.

  “Oh, Hazel, what did you do?” I whispered. This was my fault. I hadn’t meant to let a human monster into this world, but my hometown had suffered terribly for my curiosity. Maybe it was for the best that the key was gone. God knew what I might invite in if I tried to go back.

  My unease grew as I made my way along the street, keeping my eyes open for signs of friends or enemies. The silence bothered me more than anything. Surely she hadn’t killed everyone. These were humans. Her kind. Even if they lacked the “spark” of the people in her homeland, she’d have found them useful.

  I hoped.

  I found them in the town square. The square was the hub of the town in summer, swarming with tourists checking out the open-air craft market or enjoying the buskers who drifted in and out of town every summer. Even in the winter it was the social centre of the town, well maintained and well loved.

  The pale spring grass on the green had been trampled flat, the high flower beds knocked over. The old-fashioned street-lamps were toppled like lumber. Burn marks marred the colourful siding of every building in sight, and in spite of the brightness of the day, a cloud seemed to hang over the square. The people of Fairbrook stood in a crowd facing the massive steps of the town hall, the only brick building in town. Their heads hung low, but their eyes were fixed on the top of the steps. Whatever had their attention was hidden from me, behind one of the ostentatious marble pillars outside the doors.

  I moved closer, into the row of tall bushes in front of the building, creeping as silently as I could. At least the shrubs had been preserved, looking healthier than they should have been so early in the season. Thick leaves provided the perfect cover as I crawled through the dirt and dead foliage beneath, muddying my knees and my hands. When I reached the corner of the steps, I peered up onto the polished wooden porch.

  She looked just like her doll. Tall and willowy, golden-haired and fair in every physical sense of the word. Verelle, alive and well and casting imperious glances over her new people as her soldiers paced behind the crowd, keeping them in line.

  I fought the nausea that washed over me as I realized just how much deeper and more serious my problems had become.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I didn’t dare move until the end of the meeting.

  “Remember,” Verelle announced. Her clear, sweet voice carried easily over the square. “I will treat you as well as you treat me.” She waved her hand at the bushes, and they burst into pink blossoms that had no place on that particular species. I held in a sneeze as pollen exploded into the air. “I can restore your city, make it better than it’s ever been. I bring such gifts for you!” She clasped her hands beneath her chin as though delighted by the idea.

  “Wouldn’t need improvement if she hadn’t wrecked it,” someone muttered in the front row. Jim Hancock, the pharmacist. I barely heard it, but Verelle had picked it up clearly. She shot him a disappointed look.

  “Don’t pout because I had to show my power before you would listen. I’ll work wonders for you, and later for your whole world. I want your support so that I may bless you as I blessed the humans of my old home. They loved me, as y
ou will. But my love does not come free. Go now, and make your decision.”

  She gathered the long skirts of a dress I suspected had been made of the mayor’s office curtains and went inside. Several of her soldiers followed, while two remained outside the door, still as statues, swords drawn.

  The people left, breaking into three groups: one group heading for the school, another moving toward the big white church on the hill, and the last ambling toward the nicer old houses near the square. Only the last group talked and laughed as they went.

  I made my way back to the ravine, not wanting to cause a stir in public when people recognized me. Any surprise or excitement might be noted by the soldiers.

  I’d have to be careful. Zinian had said that Verelle directed her soldiers’ every movement. They’d lived without her when she’d disappeared, but had behaved like masterless puppets. With her here, they were capable of much more. I just didn’t know exactly what.

  I entered the convenience store by the broken back door. The place had been cleared out, but I found several fruit and nut bars that had fallen under a bottom shelf. I didn’t look to see how long ago they might have been lost there. They tasted fine and they filled my stomach, and I didn’t care about anything else.

  I rested in the store room, and after sunset I made my way to the school. My ankle was bitching again, and I swallowed a few more pills on the way.

  The school’s outside doors were all locked, but I saw flickering light coming from the other side of the open gymnasium doors inside. I knocked as loud as I dared.

  Three shadowed faces peered out of the gym, then came toward the door. They carried weapons, such as they were—a bright red fire extinguisher, an uncoupled fire hose held ready to be used as a whip, and the long wooden chalkboard pointer that old Mr. Goodyear had wielded during his fifty year reign at the school. They carried flashlights, which they promptly blinded me with.

  “Who’s there?” a familiar voice I couldn’t place demanded.

  “Hazel Walsh,” I said, lowering the hand I’d thrown up to shield my face. The glass doors muffled our voices slightly, but weatherproofing for the school had never been high on the town’s budget priorities.

  “Hazel?” The one who had spoken stepped forward. Jimmy Wood, ruiner of reputations, knocker-up of cheerleaders, in the flesh. “How did you get here?”

  “I drove.”

  Jimmy stepped back. “No one has been able to get onto or off the island for a week,” he said.

  So time had passed more slowly here than in Elurien.

  “I drove in before that,” I said. “I was at the inn when it collapsed.” Not entirely true, but enough for now.

  Jimmy’s flashlight caught one of the other faces. Mrs. Perry, the vice principal. She squinted at me and shook her head. “Can’t say. You know how that woman has tricked us.”

  The sound of wingbeats passed in the distance. I wasn’t willing to be caught if he came closer. “Mrs. Perry, I went to this school when you started—” I did some mental math based on my grade “—ten years ago. I was here when Wiley Snow set the lab on fire. He was three years ahead of me. The smell lingered for weeks. I ate the soggy cabbage rolls every Tuesday that the church ladies cooked for us so the ‘poor dears could have a real meal.’ I graduated with honours. I came to help with my uncle’s dairy bar.”

  The wings again, coming closer and then fading.

  “Please,” I added. “I’d stand out here and sing the school song for you, but I don’t want to make more noise, and quite frankly I’ve forgotten the words because no one ever remembered to make us sing it.”

  Jimmy reached for the lock and let me in. I leapt into the school, and he caught me in one arm as he locked the door with the other.

  The shadow of a winged soldier passed over the steps.

  “Thank you,” I sighed, and looked around. “Are there many people here? What the hell is happening?”

  The third person, an older man I only knew by sight and not by name, brandished his floppy hose as threateningly as was possible. “I still have questions. If you arrived a week ago and survived the inn’s collapse, where have you been?”

  “Long story,” I said. “I bet yours is more relevant.”

  He grunted and let me follow Jimmy toward the gym.

  “It’s good to see you, Hazel,” Jimmy said. “How long has it been?”

  “Years,” I replied. “How’s Jenny and the baby?”

  “Oh. Can’t say. They went to live with her aunt in Nova Scotia two years ago. Didn’t work out after all.”

  Around fifty people occupied the gym, sitting on sleeping bags and cots. A handful of small children ran around, but most were adults, or nearly there. A good number of them were approaching half-past adult, with silver hair and wrinkled faces. I put as many names to faces as I could, orienting myself. This was my town, all right, if not the one I’d expected to find when I decided to come back. For a moment, I saw what mainlanders saw when they visited my hometown. It’s not so bad here, really. Even if—

  A scream echoed through the gym, and my mother clicked across the floor. I knew it was her before I saw her face. Only Loretta Walsh would wear high heels to the apocalypse.

  She gripped my shoulders and pulled me into an unexpected hug. “You did come,” she said. “You look horrible.”

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Thanks, Mom. You and Dad are okay?”

  She sighed. “He’s sleeping in the cafeteria. Fool broke his leg running from one of those angel things. Doc Saunders has him patched up and drugged up. You’ll come see him when he wakes.”

  Not a question. Nothing ever was. I nodded and excused myself, and she went to sit with the church ladies.

  It was good to know they were safe, or reasonably so. I just hoped they’d stay that way, and that I’d find a way to escape the suffocating feeling that was once again tightening like iron bands across my chest.

  Welcome home, Hazel.

  I sat with my back against the obnoxious primary-coloured wall beside the equipment locker and stretched my injured leg out in front of me. Jimmy ran around, gathering the people I supposed he considered important, and Mrs. Perry stood guard beside me.

  “Tell me what’s happening,” I said. “I want to help.”

  She sighed. “Nobody knows what’s happening. As I recall it, though, some of us awoke just over a week ago to the sound of the inn collapsing. Middle of the night. Volunteer crew went out to see what was happening and save Violetta James. Assuming she’d consent to being saved, of course.”

  I smiled to myself. I had sort of missed the familiarity of these people who knew each other so well. Big cities can’t match that.

  “She’d been crushed in her bed, which turned out to be a mercy for her. The boys dug through the rubble searching for whoever might have owned the car out front. Verelle emerged instead. Beautiful woman in a white dress, not a scratch on her. Wouldn’t allow anyone to touch her, and—”

  She hesitated.

  “What?”

  “Stories get muddled at that point. Simon Blackwood died. Some said he tripped. Some said she pushed him into the hole she’d rose from. A couple said he fell, but it was because she did something to him when he tried to touch her, like an electric shock that sent him flying. And that’s how it’s been since. She cut the island off. No traffic in or out, no electricity or phone, and the boats hit some kind of invisible wall half a kilometre out. The town’s beat up, which was all her doing, and there are those angel things she keeps. There’s a small faction thinks she really is from God as she claims, and she keeps them close and treats them well. Gave them the nice houses, and the stunned arses took them. The rest of us are confused. She’s got some strange power like we’ve never seen. She’s affecting our minds.”

  She looked at the man who’d stood with her in the foyer. “Samuel, has anyone seen Jim Hancock since he spoke up at the rally?”

  It seemed strange to call such a dismal gathering a rally. V
erelle’s word, I was sure.

  “No one,” he said. “And you know, I keep forgetting to think of him.”

  “That’s how it goes,” Mrs. Perry told me. “Some of us remember better. Others could have seen him tortured in the street—and I wouldn’t put it past that woman—and forget five minutes later that the man ever lived.”

  I shivered. I hadn’t heard of anything like this when Zinian spoke about Verelle.

  Jimmy had gathered a group of two dozen people and led them over. Mostly men, mostly middle-aged, all sober and solemn.

  “You were in the inn when it collapsed?” asked Fred Blackwood, Simon’s father and the other mechanic I might have consulted about Gladys.

  “In a manner of speaking. I wasn’t there there.” I took a deep breath. They’d seen Verelle’s magic. They’d have to believe me. “I went through a door into another world, one that was living in terror of Verelle. She somehow switched places with me. I came back in the hope that Verelle would be returned to that world.”

  No one spoke for a minute, until old David McMurtry clucked his tongue and shook his head. “The girl’s got concussed,” he said kindly. “Probably lost in the rubble of the inn, delirious and dehydrated, until she came and found us. God love her. Someone fetch a lemonade.”

  I accepted the lemonade, then shook my head. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but do you have a better explanation for her?”

  Feet shuffled nervously in the small crowd. “Some thinks it’s technological,” Mr. McMurtry said. “Robots and such. Maybe drugs in the water supply. We’re a little short on theories, and I’m sure we’ll add yours to the list.” He patted my head. “Tell me, were there fairies and monsters in this other world?”

  “Yes,” I grumbled, and ducked out from under his hand. “They’re the ones the humans ruled over. There was a revolution.”

  Mrs. Perry sank to the floor beside me. “Hazel, my love. Was there a big talking lion wandering—”

  “No. There was not.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Jimmy said. “The fact is that however that Verelle got here, we’re stuck with her until we do something.”