by E M Graham
“Be sure to wash that mug well when you’ve finished,” she snarled. “And listen up, you little mongrel...”
My head snapped up and I whirled toward her, the liquid splashing from my mug onto the pristine black granite counter top. Those were fighting words. I wanted to throw the cup at her, coffee and all – hell, I wanted to throw the whole gleaming stainless steel coffee pot at the bitch and wipe that hating off her face.
And I would have if I wasn’t so intimidated by her.
“Why are you still hanging around here, anyway?” Cate took a cloth in her hand and approached me menacingly. I took two steps back as she viciously swiped at the coffee spill.
“Don’t think just because he claims to be a half-blood that you’re his equal,” she hissed, jerking her head to the interior of the mansion. “They operate by an entirely different set of rules over there. Hugh’s line can be traced right back to the Roman times – he’s no more Normal than I am. Don’t even think of aligning yourself with him.”
I could feel my cheeks burning red with anger. She probably thought it was embarrassment, for she pushed on with her abuse.
“And don’t get in the way of my daughter,” she hissed. “Or I will crush you like the bug you are.”
“Like your daughter is going to crush my friend?” I finally found my voice. “Like Sasha and her friends crushed that woman in Portugal Cove, because she was a mongrel like me?”
Her eyes widened slightly. I thought I saw a hint of recognition there, possibly. Did she know what her daughter was up to this evening?
“What do you know?” I leaped across the room and grabbed her by the folds of her silk dress. “You goddamn bitch, you better tell me.”
She shrieked her husband’s name, that shrill voice echoed throughout the house, and I knocked her to the chequered marble floor. I wish I could say I heard her head crack against it, but no such luck. I grabbed her by the shoulders and tried to shake the life out of her, I did, I admit. The fine fabric ripped in my grip. I was taken over by rage and the frustration built up over the years, and the anger at this woman who must have had something to do with my mother’s disappearance.
“Bitch! Bitch!” I was yelling over her cries. “Where is Sasha? Where is Alice? And my mother – what did you do to her? I’ll kill you!”
The fabric of her dress slipped out of my grasp as I was lifted through the air and slammed against a glassfronted cupboard, breaking it into a thousand pieces which rained on my head as I was dropped hard to the floor again.
Cate leaped up with both her hands aimed at me as I lay there, unable to move in the paralysis of her magic grip.
“What the hell’s going on?” Dad burst into the kitchen with Hugh right behind him. They summed up the situation in one glance.
“Cate,” Dad commanded. “Stop it now. Let her go. You will not use magic against another being in my house.”
“That cur attacked me, physically,” Cate said as she dropped her hands and dismissed me. She turned away from me, fingering the torn shoulder of her dress. The cords of her neck were taut. “Remove her from my home. I can’t abide this intrusion any longer. Bring her back to the hovel where she belongs – just get her out of my sight.”
My eyes met those of Hugh, and I could have sworn I saw a flash of sympathy wash quickly over his face before he stepped forward and took my arm. He nodded.
“We’d best leave,” he said.
“She knows,” I hissed at him. “She knows something about all this. About Sasha and the murder...”
Both men stilled at these words, and looked toward Cate.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, affronted at the question in their eyes. “Murder? Sasha? Are you talking about that pathetic creature who died last June in Portugal Cove? How can you even think that our daughter could be mixed up in anything like that, how can you say such horrible things?”
“That’s enough Cate,” Dad cut in, his voice flat and tired. “Hugh, take Dara out, somewhere, anywhere. We’ve got too much to do and not enough time.”
“But Jon, we need to...” Hugh began, but my father cut him off.
“We’re not going to be able to do it right now,” Dad said. “That much is obvious.”
“What we need is to start preparations for the Gathering tonight,” Cate said as she gathered herself together, her voice icy. “It’s my Kin’s turn to host, and I require both of you by my side.”
“On second thought,” Dad said, totally ignoring his wife. “Hugh, I can’t do this without you.” He turned to me, despair written on his face. “Go up to your room.”
“It’s not my room,” I stormed. “And I’m not staying a moment longer under the same roof as ...”
“Cut it out, and do as I say,” he replied flatly. “You’re really not helping the situation.”
Hugh nodded quietly and flicked his head towards the door. “It’s for the best. I’ll be up in a bit,” he said, in a much kinder tone than that of my own father.
So I withdrew with as much dignity as I could find and headed up the back stairs to the turret room, burning all the way.
If I had been properly educated, I could be of use right now. But instead, I was stuck up here out of the action.
I was going to take Hugh up on his offer, later, when all this was over – if it ever ended. I was going to learn to harness my powers and go anywhere I liked in the world, anywhere as long as it was away from this shit town with all its prejudices.
I turned the chair to face out the barred windows and looked down on the town, then above the trees across the way to Signal Hill and on over to the Southside Hills where all this began, at least where it began for me.
My sister was a murdering bitch, and her mother approved of her actions. She was going to be responsible for the cruel killing of my only real friend in this world, and I was banished to an attic room like some toddler.
How the hell had Sasha turned out so rotten? Aside from the fact that fifty percent of her genes came from Cate, of course.
But what exactly were Sasha and Seth and them getting from this ceremonial killing? I didn’t understand how supernatural powers could be transferred over. I understood so little back then.
The Southside Hills jeered at me across the harbor as they peeked out behind the downtown office towers. The fairies were up there, going about their business, Jane’s baby weakening by the day and Benjy ... well, I hated to think how he must be doing by now. Alice abducted by the Kin, soon to be the next victim of some twisted ideology. Of course, I’d been trying to call her off and on since the morning, but still nothing.
With her phone in my hand, I sent loose feelers out over to the hills, but there was no sign of her, no feeling, no taste of Alice.
A thought hit me. If I could do this for Alice, could I not do it for Sasha? They were probably together. We had a long history, my sister and I, and we did share blood. I would look for Sasha. And maybe that’s how I could find Alice.
For this, I needed to get something of my sister’s, something she held dear for Hugh had said that made the search easier. I slipped down the winding twisty attic staircase to the second floor.
There were no sounds coming from the rest of the house.
Once there, I hesitated. Yes, I’d been in Sasha’s room before, but that was years ago and I’d forgotten the lay of the land in this large house, was no longer sure which was the tower room on this floor. I prayed I wouldn’t happen on Cate by mistake.
I realized I might be able to cut down on the search time and dangers by letting my nose lead me to Sasha’s room. Closing my eyes, I envisioned her, her smell and her presence and sent feelers out to each of the doors.
It worked. The first door I opened was hers, it had to be, a room decorated like something out of a magazine these days, all shabby chic done very expensively, a fin de siècle Parisian boudoir in St. John’s. The artworks on the walls were originals, or at least expensive crap from Winner’s anyway. The en suite bathroom
(of course she had one) was tiled all in glass, and was airy and filled with light, while the walk-in closet was massive. She must have taken over the adjoining room in order to create this whole apartment for herself, this shrine to Sasha.
It smelled like her, and that really wasn’t a bad scent, sort of floral and lemony. I remember back when she had gotten into the hippie look when we were teenagers, all her floaty gauzy clothes that she bought in New York City. Those clothes suited her better, the sister I remembered all those years ago, than this hard, sophisticated witch with the dragon red claws that she had become. A witch just like her mother.
20
I LOOKED AROUND the artistically arranged jumble in Sasha’s room, looking for one object that would serve my purpose. Her makeup, her jewellery box, the handmade cards from her last birthday – none of it seemed suitable. I was headed towards her desk drawers in search of a favourite pen or her IPod, but glancing up at the mirror, I saw exactly what I needed.
It was just a gaudy pressed-tin locket, a heart shape on a cheap chain, hanging amidst a bunch of other mementoes. I remembered winning it at the Regatta that year when I was ten and she was eleven. It had been the last time we’d been together as sisters.
The game of chance I’d played and won was long forgotten, just the memory of the locket being passed to me by the scruffy barker and our mutual delight in it. On impulse, I’d given it to her and in return, she pressed on me the fluffy pink lion she had won elsewhere. For that moment in time, we were truly sisters of the heart.
I’d forgotten that summer till now, but the pink lion still sat on a shelf in my own bedroom, too.
The metal was cold on my fingers as I lifted and disentangled the chain from the assortment of jewellery and beads hanging by the side of the mirror.
Quickly, I ran back up the way I’d come and sat in the saggy armchair facing the Southside Hills. This was it. I was going to find my sister, that evil fucking bitch.
But I had no more luck with that search than the one for Alice. I could feel no hint of her over the wide city, nothing at all.
The only thing left to me, the only weapon in my very limited arsenal, was to go into Alt and find her there. Hugh had told me not to do it, but I didn’t really have any choice by now, did I?
Yet, I couldn’t do anything in this house, this prison, because Dad and Hugh and even Cate would know immediately that I was slipping into Alt, at least I suspected they would be able to sense it and I couldn’t take the chance.
And what was my plan when I’d found either Sasha or Alice? I had none, but that didn’t stop me.
IT WAS SO EASY TO ESCAPE from the house that afternoon. There were at least five entrances to the huge mansion and only two guardians because Cate wouldn’t care if I left or not. Once out, I ran for my life even though no one was chasing me. Down the private lane way under cover of the overhanging trees, and across New Cove Road. Hugh had said this was best done from a high place, so my mind was working furiously as I tore across the road, unmindful of the midafternoon traffic. I knew I needed to find high ground, and quickly.
As I came to the corner, I suddenly knew exactly where to go. Somewhere high overlooking the city, and somewhere that was unlikely to have dangerous properties in Alt. Behind Gaspar Corte-Real, the statue of the explorer given by the Portuguese sailing fleet who had for centuries come over the ocean to fish for cod off the island, there was a large green space, hardly ever used, that had always been farm land. I headed up Gooseberry Lane to those fields below the present Confederation Building, placed so the first Premier could keep a watchful eye on the city below his feet.
A pathway, there’s always a path somewhere, and I found it, leading to the sloping green below the Parkway. Yes, this was the perfect spot.
I sat myself under the shelter of an old tree and looked around. This was high enough up for my purposes and the space was totally free of people as usual. The roar of the traffic up the hill behind me was steady, a lulling sound and the uncut grass of the fields below me swayed in the fierce wind. Although the clouds were gathering fast, there was no rain yet. It was a peaceful and quiet in this tiny vale, sheltered from the storm which was approaching yet still not upon us in full.
Despite my misgivings, despite Hugh’s warning not to do it, I closed my eyes and willed the switch into Alt. And when I opened them again, the air smelled sweeter and the forest was closer.
I heard a snuffling sound very close by, and almost leaped out of my skin at the feeling of hot breath on my neck. But it was just a curious cow come to check me out, and when I laughed it wandered away again. Just a regular cow, nothing magical or supernatural about it. Settling back onto the grass, I saw there were fields all around me. No sound of traffic, either. I looked behind me and where the Confederation Building had stood was now a single farmhouse, the white paint half peeled off.
I was sitting in an orchard of apple trees.
Was this actually Alt? There was none of that creepy supernatural feeling that I usually found in the other land, this place was pastorally pristine. Yet it wasn’t where I came from, for there were no office buildings in sight, no Southcott Hall sticking out like a sore red thumb by the lake, no glittering snake of late-season tourist cars lined up Signal Hill to see the sights.
The tower still stood there up on the hill overlooking the city, but instead of a parking lot I could see the roofs of buildings behind it, perhaps the old fever hospital and soldiers’ quarters, stuck way up on the top of that inhospitable lump of rock.
No Battery Hotel looming off the cliff over the downtown either. In fact from this new perspective I could actually see a corner of the ocean at the Narrows where Signal Hill met the Southside Hills.
There must have been moisture in the air, for both hills looked close enough for me to reach out and touch. Without the gargantuan oil tanks scarring the side, the olive green of the Southside Hills looked peaceful.
I shivered, for the wind was continuing to rise. The weather was the same here in Alt as in the real world. What was I doing, and what did I hope to accomplish?
Alice’s phone was still in my hand, lifeless and useless of course, here. It was twenty-first century magic that didn’t belong in Alt.
I concentrated on her, on the feeling of Alice, on my love for my friend and everything she meant to me. I also kept Sasha’s locket in my other hand, for I knew the two had to be in close proximity to each other. And then I sent myself out into the wind. Alt Town was much smaller than the city of real time, the crooked wooden houses hemmed in by fields and streams which had disappeared in the modern landscape. I tried to do what I did the previous evening but without Hugh at my side I faltered, because I could sense bad things in the atmosphere the closer I got to Alt Town as if there were noxious currents in the very air itself. An idea struck me, and I bypassed the town itself and headed over to the Southside Hills.
Benjy was in Alt, he had to be, for that’s where the fairies dwelt. I had a loose idea that if I could prove that, then maybe somehow I would find a clue as to where Alice was, for the witches were supernatural too, right? Like I said, this wasn’t a fully formed thought, more of an intuition really.
Anyway, even though I hovered over the crevice leading to the fairy den, I found no sense of Benjy at all. His red bucket was still there, glowing in the dried grass like a beacon – as to why the pail showed up in Alt, don’t even ask, for I have no clue as to the workings of this strange place, what stays and what doesn’t. At any rate, I wasn’t going to go looking for him in the fairy hall. I had more pressing matters.
For I realized right then what this meant – I couldn’t sense Benjy, got no hint of him at all beneath the heavy boulders on the barrens, even though I knew he couldn’t have left the hall. And that’s how I knew that Alice must be imprisoned underground. Somewhere in this vast land in a cellar, or in a cave, somewhere surrounded by thick stone which I couldn’t get past with my sensors.
At least that narrowed it down a b
it. Unfortunately, I didn’t know if her prison was in Alt or not.
I turned to head back when my eye was caught by something else, a strange configuration in the landscape. I hadn’t noticed it when I passed straight overhead, but now I could see off to my left, a dip in the hill just like the one where the dead woman, Tracey, was found. The half-blood witch. Like the dell behind Portugal Cove, this had straight sides almost all the way around save for a scree slope and it was bare except for grasses growing at the bottom.
I gave a shiver but before I could head back to my body I felt a stinging whip on my left ankle like a snakebite. I shook my metaphysical leg but the biting itchiness remained, and when I looked down I saw a rope of blue light winding around me, reaching up and growing and encasing me till it met around my middle and stayed fast. It hurt, as if something had kicked me in the stomach and took my breath away.
I faltered in the air, but knew I had to make it back to relative civilization. Yes, I was still out of body at this point, but the pain I felt was real and physical, and something was stopping me from breathing as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of the atmosphere.
So, Hugh had told me not to do exactly this, astral travel in Alt, untutored as I was. He told me I didn’t understand the dangers of Alt, let alone flying in Alt, and he was so right.
The blue light girded me like a belt, and it was pulling me into the heart of Alt Town. The more I pushed against it the more pain it caused, until I gave up and allowed it to take me over the water, through the sea of tall wooden masts of the boats that lined the harbor four deep in places, steadily losing altitude the whole time. How was I going to make it back to my body high on the hills overlooking the town? More to the point, why couldn’t I? I tried to will myself back to that field, but of course I didn’t have a clue what I was doing.
Can an astral figure vomit? For it felt like I was about to upchuck from lack of air as if my lungs were bursting.
