by Kim Wilkins
“Why not?”
“That I know not. But perhaps it is so that we do not grow too sad, knowing that many decades may pass before the worlds align again, knowing that our human friends will grow old and die while we stay young.”
“I think it’s sadder to forget them.”
Eisengrimm turned and the castle gate swung open in front of them. “Come, I’ll bring you to the spell chamber.”
He led her inside the castle and along the main corridor, but when he started down a deep staircase she hesitated.
“Eisengrimm . . .”
He paused on the stairs and looked back. “What is the matter?”
“Are we going underground?”
“We are going to the spell chamber.”
“I’m . . . I have a phobia.” She wondered how that word would translate into their language.
Eisengrimm registered no confusion. “We’re not going all the way to the dungeons.”
“But still—”
“Christine, the spell chamber is below the ground, yes, but only barely. There is a window up near the ceiling, you can see the garden through it.”
Christine swallowed hard, trying to fight the jitters. “Really?”
“You can see for yourself.”
“Can we leave the door open?”
“Of course, if it makes you feel better.”
Christine hesitantly moved down the stairs behind him.
“Could you bring in that lantern hanging on the wall?” Eisengrimm said with a nod of his head.
Christine unhooked the lantern. “I thought you said there was a window.”
“It’s only tiny. We’ll need more light.”
He nosed the door open and Christine followed him inside. There was indeed a window up high in the wall, and through it the long grass in the garden blotted out nearly all of the deep twilight. She dragged her eyes away from it a moment to examine the rest of the room. Dark, bare walls, a long table in the center of the room. Her breathing was shallow. She forced it to slow and deepen. Eisengrimm transformed back to Crow and hopped up on the table. He clicked his beak.
“Come, Christine, put the ball of twine here.”
Christine carefully unwrapped it from her wrist and laid it down, indicating the fray. “Here,” she said. “Look, it’s almost worn through.”
“But it’s not broken. I can fix it easily,” Eisengrimm said. With one claw he held the twine, and with his beak he began to work the frayed threads.
Christine glanced up to the window again. “So, Eisengrimm, you said there are dungeons under here?”
“Yes. If you follow the stairs down further below the crypt, there’s a deep, sloping corridor. The dungeons are very far beneath the castle.”
Christine’s skin crawled. “And are there people in them?”
“Rarely. We have little use for them. They’re empty now.” His beak kept working, pulling threads and winding them. “Why are you afraid of being beneath the ground?”
“My parents were both killed in a car accident. I was with them. It happened in a tunnel.”
He cocked his head, his golden crow eyes round. “I find it very peaceful beneath the ground. The earth muffles out cares and concerns.”
“It weighs on me, like being buried while you’re still alive.”
Eisengrimm went back to work. “Now I understand why you didn’t want to see the dungeons on your last visit.”
“Yeah, and why I won’t use underpasses, tunnels, or subways. Sometimes it makes life complicated.” She looked up at the window again. Even thinking about it had made her breath feel short and her fingers twitch.
“There,” Eisengrimm said, “it’s nearly finished. I just need to rebalance the spell.”
He transformed to Wolf and as he did so, his front paw knocked the twine from the table so that it rolled away from him.
Christine bent to gather the thread. “Clumsy. I’ll get it.”
“Christine, don’t—”
Christine was about to say, “Don’t what?” wondering why Eisengrimm hadn’t finished the sentence, but a sudden heavy blackness greeted her eyes, causing panic to flutter in her chest. Had the light gone out? Had the window been blacked by evening? She scooped up the thread and turned, but Eisengrimm was no longer there, and she realized with horror she was no longer in the spell chamber.
“Eisengrimm?” she called, her hand searching in front of her. Everything was blackness. She took a step, then another, her fingers found a wall, searched farther, found rough iron bars.
Christine screamed. She was in the dungeon.
“Eisengrimm!” She ran a few steps and came to another wall, her hands frantic upon it. “Eisengrimm! Help me!” You’re so far from the light, you’re so far beneath the earth, your heart is thumping, your ears are filling up with the ache of your pulse, you don’t know where you are, you’re locked in, you’ll never get out, your head is filling with white noise, your skin is buzzing, your pulse is throbbing in your eyeballs, you can’t see a thing. “Eisengrimm!” You’ll probably die, your head will burst open and madness will pour in, your body will fall apart, you can already feel it falling apart, that’s what the pounding sound is, you can barely breathe anymore anyway, you should just sit down and wait to die.
“Christine! Where are you?”
Oh God, oh God, oh God. “Eisengrimm, I don’t know where I am,” she sobbed.
“I can hear you, I’m coming.”
“I can’t see a thing.”
“I’m nearly there. It sounds like you’re in a cell. Is there a door?”
“I don’t know.”
A grinding, creaking noise and Eisengrimm’s voice was in the room with her. Her eyes had started to adjust to the blackness, and she could faintly see his pale gray shape, but only if she looked just beside him. “Follow me, Christine.”
“I . . .”
“Your breathing sounds strange. Try to breathe regularly.”
She forced air into her chest. Eisengrimm was here, he was going to lead her out. Let go of the panic.
“Follow me, follow my voice if you can’t see me. I’m sorry, but I haven’t the ability to hold a torch. But I know my way around here.” He was walking ahead of her now, his voice leading her in the dark. “We’re lucky the dungeons are empty and unlocked. South gate.” Iron creaked ahead of her, and they started to turn to the east. “There are four gates. If you follow the slope up and don’t take one of the paths deeper into the dungeons, we’ll find all four.”
“How far are we from daylight?”
“Not far. Can you feel it? We’re moving upwards now.”
She could feel it, her legs growing tired. Another gate creaked ahead of them.
“I’m sorry we don’t have lamps burning here all the time. You must have been very frightened. It was the twine, you see. I had been working it, but hadn’t rebalanced the spell. It took you to the last place I had spoken of.” Another gate. “I should have warned you, I’m sorry.”
“Are we nearly there?”
“One more gate. You’ll see the glow of lamplight from the stairs around the next bend. Ah, there it is.”
She ran ahead of him, up the slope and up the stairs, and farther, into the main corridor of the castle and along it until she reached the garden. She threw herself down, gazing at the late afternoon sky, gratefully sucking in breaths of air. Eisengrimm appeared next to her a moment later.
“I am curious,” he said.
“What about?”
“About how your body remembers the fear and reproduces it.”
“Um, yeah. I guess you haven’t had Freud here yet, huh?”
He curled up next to her, his face resting on her stomach. “Do you still think forgetfulness such a terrible thing?” he asked in his rich, mellow voice.
She stroked his ears, her breathing returning to normal. “Don’t ask,” she said. “I can’t answer that.”
Mayfridh woke in the dark, wondering what had roused her. She wai
ted a few moments, began to drift off, then the knocking started again.
“Yes, yes, I’m coming.” This was Gerda, her voice muffled through the bedroom door. Mayfridh slipped out of bed and pulled on the clothes she had been wearing that evening. She leaned her head out. Gerda was at the front door, fiddling with the lock. Another few sharp raps.
“Yes, okay, I’m here,” Gerda said. She opened the door and Jude stood, dimly lit by the security light, on the other side. “Jude! It’s four in the morning.”
“Have you seen Christine?”
Gerda shook her head, confused. “What do you mean?”
Jude forced his way in, switched on the light. “I mean, have you seen Christine? I don’t know where she is.” His words were quick and breathless.
Mayfridh emerged from the hallway, shutting her bedroom door behind her, creeping closer.
“I don’t understand, Jude,” Gerda said. “Wasn’t she with you?”
“Yeah, she was with me,” Jude said, his voice growing louder, “but I woke up five minutes ago and she wasn’t there.”
Mayfridh knew exactly where Christine was. She just wasn’t allowed to tell. “Perhaps she went for a walk, Jude,” she said, trying to imbue her voice with a reassuring tone.
Jude turned on her. “A walk? At four a.m. the same night she fell over and hurt her back and had to be helped to bed? A walk?”
“Just a suggestion,” Mayfridh mumbled.
“So where else could she be?” Gerda asked.
“I don’t know. I thought she might be here.”
Gerda turned him around and faced him toward the door.
“Go check with Fabiyan and Pete. I’ll put a pot of coffee on.”
Jude disappeared, and Mayfridh joined Gerda in the kitchen.
“He’s worried,” Mayfridh said.
“He’s overreacting. I doubt she’s been abducted by a psychopath.”
“He’s frantic.”
Gerda spooned coffee into the filter and switched the machine on. “All the more reason for us to keep our cool.”
Mayfridh pulled out a chair and sat down, dropped her head into her hands.
“Hey, I’m sorry,” Gerda said, her hand on Mayfridh’s neck. “I’m so sorry. That comment about abduction . . . I forgot about . . .”
Mayfridh looked up, took a moment to understand what Gerda was saying. “Oh. Oh, don’t worry about me.”
“No, it was insensitive. Christine told me that you were . . . you know . . . taken from your bedroom . . .”
“It’s all right, Gerda. I’ll tell you about it one day.”
Jude burst back in, trailing Pete and Fabiyan. “She’s nowhere in the hotel.”
“Did you check with Mandy?”
“Yes,” Pete said. “He said wait until daylight and call the police.”
“I’ll go crazy before daylight,” Jude said, pacing now. “Where is she? What if she’s wandered off somewhere and is hurt or—?”
“Calm down, Jude,” Gerda said. “Do you want coffee? It’ll be ready in a few minutes.”
“No, I don’t want coffee. I want to go out and look for her.”
“Jude, you’re panicking. Why would she be in any danger?”
“She was drinking tonight, and then she had painkillers. What if she woke up confused?”
Fabiyan put a hand on his shoulder. “Would you feel better if we went looking for her?”
Jude turned to him. “Yeah, yeah I would.”
“Okay, you boys go off and take a walk round the block, but don’t get too worried, Jude. I’m sure she’s fine.” Gerda bundled them out the door and closed it behind them, then turned to Mayfridh. “So, where do you think she is?”
Mayfridh shrugged. “Nowhere dangerous, I’m certain.”
“It is kind of weird for her to wander off in the middle of the night.” Gerda checked the coffeepot. “Want a coffee?”
“Yes, please.”
Gerda placed a mug of coffee in front of her, and arranged four empty cups on the table. “I’m guessing they’ll all want something hot to drink when they bring Christine home,” she said.
“I suppose so.”
Gerda sat across from her. “You could tell me now if you like.”
Mayfridh was momentarily confused. “Tell you?”
“About when you were taken from your bedroom as a little girl.”
Mayfridh smiled. “Gerda—”
“Go on. We’ve got some time to kill before they come back.” She leaned in close. “I’ve always wanted to know.”
“Christine said to beware of your questions.”
“Christine is good at avoiding them too.”
Mayfridh sipped her coffee. Gerda’s eyes hadn’t left hers. “It wasn’t a big deal, Gerda.”
“You were abducted and it wasn’t a big deal?”
“I was abducted by people who thought they were my parents.”
“Like relatives?”
“Not exactly . . . they were . . . it’s hard to explain.”
“Like one of those messy custody cases?”
“Yes, just like that. They loved me a lot.”
“And they treated you well?”
Mayfridh laughed. “They treated me like a princess, actually.”
“How long were you with them? Do you still see your real parents?”
“I—” Before she could answer, the door slammed open and Jude, Fabiyan, and Pete burst in. Jude was pale.
“What is it?” Gerda asked, and Mayfridh could tell that for the first time she actually thought Christine might be in danger.
Jude held out a pale brown scarf. “This is hers, isn’t it?” The awful tremble in his voice touched Mayfridh’s heart. He was suffering. She couldn’t bear his suffering.
Gerda nodded. “It looks like the one she hangs by the door with her coat. Where did you find it?”
“About a block away.”
“It might not mean anything—”
“I’m calling the police.”
Pete interjected. “Maybe you should wait until daylight, like Mandy said. She could turn up.”
“She could be dead!” Jude shouted. “She could have got up and gone somewhere and be dead, and it’ll be my fault because I slept through it and didn’t care enough to . . .” He trailed off, his shoulders slumping forward. “Guys, if anything has happened to her . . . I’d . . .”
Mayfridh knew she could fix it all. In an instant, in a sentence, she could end his pain.
“I’m sure nothing has happened to her,” Gerda said.
“Are you really sure?” Jude asked. “Admit it, you’re not sure. I’m calling the police. I’ll go mad if I don’t do something.”
Mayfridh stood up, knocking the table and rattling the collection of empty coffee cups. They all turned to look at her.
“Jude,” she said, “don’t worry.”
He stared at her as if he didn’t even recognize her. It was so icily different from the warmth and excitement of the previous afternoon that a sob almost stopped up her throat. He loves Christine, not me.
“How can I not worry?” he shouted.
“Because . . .” she said, then licked her lips. Christine would be angry. But what could she do? It was within her power to make him feel better, and beyond her control to stop herself trying to please him. “Because I know where she is.”
Christine checked her watch as she unlocked the front door of Hotel Mandy-Z. Five a.m. Good. She was getting the hang of it. Only two hours had passed and Jude would still be fast asleep. As she pushed the door gently with her shoulder, she assessed the twinge in her back. Could it be that it was actually easing? Or was it just that the few hours of relief had made it easier to bear? If that were the case, how was she to go back to living every minute in the Real World once Ewigkreis had moved on its way? She shook her head and refused to think about it, hung up her coat, and—
Noticed there was light spilling from Gerda’s room onto the landing. And quiet voices, Jude’s am
ong them.
“Oh no, oh no,” she said, hurrying up the stairs. What excuse was she going to make? An early morning walk to clear her head? A sudden craving for a foot-long at an all-night Imbiss? Moments later she stood at the threshold of Gerda’s door. Fabiyan, Pete, Mayfridh, Gerda, and Jude were all there, drinking coffee and talking quietly. She knocked softly on the open door. Jude looked up, and a second later had his arms around her.
“You idiot,” he said fondly, “I was so worried.”
“I just went out for—”
“Christine, I told him.” This was Mayfridh, standing next to her, touching her shoulder.
Christine shrugged herself out of Jude’s embrace. “You told him what?”
“The truth. I told all of them.”
Christine smiled, hoping that Mayfridh meant she had come up with a brilliant, plausible excuse for her absence. “Oh. The truth? And what . . . what is the truth?”
Mayfridh looked far too solemn, her hand a serious, cool pressure on Christine’s arm. “The real truth, Christine. About who I am, and about where you’ve been.”
Christine glanced around at the faces in the room.
Gerda scowled at her. “I should have thought you’d at least tell me I had faery royalty staying in my apartment.”
Christine shook her head slowly. “Surely you didn’t, Mayfridh?”
Jude had his arm around her again. “Come on, come to bed. This is too much excitement for me for one night.”
“I’m sorry, Christine, but you would have done the same,” Mayfridh said. “He was so worried, I couldn’t stand . . . I wanted to let him know you were all right.”
Once more Christine shrugged Jude off, tugging Mayfridh into the hallway with her. “Just give us a moment,” she said to the others, closing the door behind them. She turned to Mayfridh, who gazed at her with guilty eyes. “Believe spells all round?”
“Yes. Though in the few minutes it took between when I told them and when I enchanted them . . .” Mayfridh trailed off and giggled in spite of herself. “Oh, you should have seen their faces.”
