“How?” she whispered as she saw before her a vision of the labyrinth rising under the Thames. Catling had expected many, many treacheries from Jack and Noah, but not this.
Not a new Game.
High above Catling, under the dome of the cathedral, and at Southwark, over the buried crypt of St Thomas’, the flowers which the Mistresses had scattered about the perimeter of the labyrinths now slowly started to slide towards the entrances of each labyrinth.
Each pair of dancers now moved towards the entrance of their respective labyrinth also, their movements still seductive and measured, their eyes still on those of their partner.
As they came to within ten paces of each entrance, the flowers slowly began to rise, weaving themselves into a gate.
“Grace? Grace?” said Catling. “What is this you do?”
Catling had finally, devastatingly, realised what was happening—there was another Game…how? How?—and all she could think of was Grace. Not what Jack and Noah might be doing, but what Grace was doing.
Dancing the closure, damn it, of a new Game, one meant to trap Catling.
“You think to trap me?” Catling said, her voice stronger now. “You really think you can do that?”
Then, in her next heartbeat, Catling knew they could, for the Shadow Game sent forth the first of its irresistible, deadly siren calls, twisting its hooks into Catling’s soul.
Tugging gently for the moment, but Catling knew all too well how soon those gentle tugs would turn into an agonising wrenching.
And all Catling could think of was Grace. Grace was dancing this Game.
“Don’t you know what I can do to you?” Catling said, and she raised her hands, the deadly tangle of red wool between them.
As the two Flower Gates began to rise, Ariadne and Silvius finally moved. In their minds’ eye they could see Grace as she danced with Weyland, and they concentrated on her with all their power. At the same time they began to dance. Although the rhythm of their movements were similar to those of the other four dancers, the dance they executed was strikingly dissimilar. They did not dance about a gigantic labyrinth, but instead executed a tight dance directly over the God Well, their hands constantly touching as they wove back and forth, and in and out, as if they were acting out the weaving of a gigantic basket.
In St Paul’s Noah caught Jack’s eyes.
When, Jack? When? How much further should they allow their Flower Gate to grow? How much longer should they give Ariadne and Silvius to build the devising Noah had taught them?
Soon, he whispered back into her mind. Very soon.
She knows, Jack. Catling knows. I can feel her seething.
Jack did not reply to that. Aye, Catling knew. He could feel her anger as Noah could, coiling under his feet and through every fibre of his being.
He could also feel the direction of that anger. Not at him, or Noah, but exclusively towards Grace.
Every instinct screamed at him to move now, but he knew he couldn’t. He had to wait, wait until they were all ready, until they were all attuned, until they were all at the peak of their dances.
He had to wait until Ariadne and Silvius were ready, and that would not be for a minute or two yet.
Meanwhile, the two Flower Gates continued to build, the Shadow Game increased its pull on Catling, and Catling…
All Catling seemed to be doing was channelling every ounce of malevolence she had towards Grace.
Jack hung on for as long as he could. Then, finally, he sent his senses scrying for Ariadne and Silvius, to make sure they were ready, then he looked at Noah, and with both mind and physical voice, said to her, “Stop!”
Several things happened at once.
ELEVEN
St Paul’s, Southwark, and the Tower of London
Saturday, 10th May 1941
Jack and Noah stepped back from the Flower Gate, withdrawing all their power from it.
The Flower Gate crumpled, the columbines scattering over the floor and blackening, as if they had been burned.
The next instant Jack’s form glowed, distorted, and suddenly it was Weyland standing there. He blinked, then reached out for Noah.
“Quick,” he said. “We need to get out of here.”
At Southwark, Jack appeared where, but a heartbeat earlier, Weyland had been standing. He reached out his hand, grasping Grace’s tightly, and they continued the dance.
The Flower Gate of the Shadow Game, before which they stood, shuddered slightly as the transfer was made, but then strengthened, its flowers forming an even tighter weave than previously.
About them came the sound of a thin wail.
Catling, perhaps, or the power of the Shadow Game drawing her in.
Catling was now concentrating everything she had on Grace. She was fully aware of what was happening—somehow a new Game had been made, its only purpose to trap her—but she also knew that she could concentrate on only one thing: either try to extricate herself from the clutches of the new Game, or to make sure that Grace would be pulled in with her. She couldn’t afford anger now; better to leave that for later when she wasn’t in so much danger.
Of the two Catling preferred the latter course of action. She wasn’t entirely sure she could escape the clutches of the new Game (it was so powerful! From where had they discovered the knowledge to make something this powerful?), but she was certain, absolutely certain, that if she pulled Grace into the Game’s dark heart with her then Jack and Grace (who Catling realised was partnering him in this Game) would not complete the Game.
Grace might continue her dance, but Catling was certain that Jack wouldn’t. He couldn’t bear to think of Grace trapped with Catling for eternity. Jack may have convinced himself that he’d be able to close this new Game out…but Catling knew Jack better than he knew himself.
She knew he would never do it.
I have you, Grace, Catling whispered, very, very glad that she’d put the extra effort into strengthening the hex that bound them.
But no need to close the hex just yet. No. Why alert anyone? Catling decided to wait just a little bit longer. Let them think they’d succeeded…then pounce.
As Grace and Jack concentrated everything they had on completing the Shadow Game, Ariadne and Silvius put their entire beings into the devising meant to protect Grace. While the building of the devising took concentration and skill, and not a little effort, the critical factor was timing. It was better that Grace stay in sight of Jack, with Jack, for as long as possible before they spirited her away into the Idyll, but leave her there too long, and the chances that Catling would snatch her first increased by the second.
Ariadne and Silvius could push Grace from the Shadow Game into the Idyll, but they did not have the power to push her from the Game’s dark heart into the Idyll. If Catling got her first, then Grace was lost.
They could feel Noah’s power behind them. She wasn’t interfering, but she was lending them all the power and support she could. Weyland was there too, opening the Idyll for them, preparing the way.
Almost, Ariadne whispered to Silvius. Almost…
Then Catling struck.
The Shadow Game had been drawing her closer and closer to St Thomas’ crypt. Catling had been resisting, and had slowed her approach, but she could not halt the movement.
If she didn’t do something soon, then she’d be pulled into the Game’s foul dark heart.
It was on the approach that Catling became aware of Ariadne and Silvius atop the Keep. She didn’t know the precise nature of their enchantment, but she was well aware of its purpose: to protect Grace.
Thus, at precisely the same moment that Catling tightened her hold over Grace, she attacked Ariadne and Silvius.
The attack was not physical, but Ariadne and Silvius suddenly felt their power rock, as if something had slammed against it.
Then again, but more powerful this time.
The devising they had been building began to shudder.
Jack and Grace felt it at the same
time. Jack saw Grace’s eyes widen in fright, and he fought to keep himself calm. Ariadne, he commanded, send Grace into the Idyll now. Now, damn you!
It is too early, Ariadne said.
You have no choice. Do it now!
A heartbeat, a single heartbeat in which Jack stared into Grace’s terror-filled eyes, and then she vanished.
The Flower Gate rocked, stabilised, and then, achingly slowly, the flowers kept on building.
Wherever Grace was, she was continuing the dance.
Ariadne knew that Grace had managed to get to the Idyll, and she could sense that Grace was continuing her part of the Dance of the Flowers there, but at the same time she realised that she and Silvius could not close out the devising. Somehow Catling had got her clutches into their dance, somehow her power was reaching into the Idyll as it had so many years ago when first she had hexed Grace, and Ariadne knew, with a deepening sense of horror, that Grace was not safe.
Jack, she screamed, finish the Game now. Do it now, gods, do it now!
Before she could say or do anything further, Ariadne felt her power tear apart completely.
TWELVE
The Idyll
Saturday, 10th May 1941
GRACE SPEAKS
Icouldn’t remember precisely what it had felt like when I’d been a baby and Catling had sent her imps into the Idyll to hex me, but I didn’t imagine it could have felt any worse than this did, right now. Everything happened so fast, and so powerfully. Jack and I had been dancing the Flower Gate into its entirety, and had felt Ariadne and Silvius constructing my mother’s devising. We could feel Catling, feel her anger and malevolence, but we could also feel the Shadow Game’s grip on her, and sense her inexorable journey into the crypt of St Thomas’.
Then Catling did what no one had anticipated—she attacked Ariadne and Silvius, and disrupted the smooth flow of their power. Ariadne screamed, Jack yelled, and suddenly I felt myself enveloped in the devising and was propelled into the Idyll.
I had no time for thought. I had to continue the Dance of the Flowers with Jack, had to get that Flower Gate up, but, oh gods, I could feel Catling reaching into the Idyll. It wasn’t just that Catling had disrupted Ariadne and Silvius’ dance, it was that she’d somehow strengthened the hex which bound us.
I didn’t think Ariadne and Silvius could strengthen the devising. They didn’t have the power, and my mother’s devising wasn’t strong enough, in any case.
Catling was going to drag me out.
I could feel the pull of the Shadow Game on Catling, and at the same time I could feel Catling’s pull on me.
I went cold with dread. I also felt astoundingly sad, and I realised that the overwhelming emotion that I would feel when trapped in the dark heart with Catling would be this sadness. Not fright or terror or hopelessness.
Sadness, at everything that could have been. It was, I realised in a moment of blinding clarity, the feeling that enveloped many people at the moment of their death.
Sadness, at everything that might have been.
Voices surrounded me, screaming. My mother, somewhere, desperate. Ariadne and Silvius, in agony, as if Catling was devouring them.
Jack, frantic, but still dancing.
I continued the dance in harmony with him.
How heartbreaking, I thought, that I would still do this. How heartbreaking, that I would put duty first before struggling for my own freedom.
And how astoundingly heartbreaking, I thought, that Jack was continuing the dance as well.
We would both prefer to lose our future together, than allow Catling freedom.
The only satisfaction I had was that I could, at the same moment I could hear and sense everything else, feel Catling’s incredulity and growing terror that Jack was still dancing, and that the Flower Gate was closing.
I could feel it close. I could see that last flower dropping into place.
And I felt myself being pulled out of the Idyll. Catling had me. Finally, Catling had me. Everything went black, and for all the time thereafter there was only…sadness.
THIRTEEN
Southwark
Saturday, 10th May 1941
Jack felt Catling seize Grace, felt Catling pull Grace, and knew that Grace was lost.
Noah’s devising couldn’t hold her. Ariadne and Silvius had not completed it, or the devising had not been strong enough to start with.
Catling had strengthened the hex beyond anything Jack had expected. Jack could feel it, he could taste it, and he knew that there was nothing left on earth, heaven or hell that could prevent Catling dragging Grace into the heart of the Shadow Game.
He screamed, even though he kept dancing, because he knew he could do nothing to stop Catling.
He screamed, even though he kept dancing, because he could feel Grace’s horror and, worse, her resignation.
He screamed, because he knew Grace was continuing to dance as well.
He screamed, because he knew he could not save Grace, and that she was condemned to eternity locked with Catling in the dark heart of the Shadow Game.
The spire of St Dunstan’s-in-the-East exploded. The high explosive bomb had dropped directly on the spire, and its detonation blew the entire structure apart. The rest of the building, the nave and outbuildings, caught alight.
Within two hours, the nave was a burned-out hulk, and the beautiful spire that Sir Christopher Wren had designed and personally supervised during its construction was a pile of sooty rubble.
Everything lay in rubble: hopes, dreams and loves.
Nothing could be saved.
FOURTEEN
Southwark
Saturday, 10th May 1941
“W here is she? Where is she?” Noah had her hands on Jack’s shoulders, shaking him slightly every time she uttered the word “is”.
About them the rolling thunder of the air raid continued, distant thuds and explosions, the roar and crackle of flame.
Jack appeared dazed. He didn’t react to Noah’s grip or to her voice, merely stared with glazed eyes out to the water where, only moments ago, he had been dancing with Grace.
But then everything had gone wrong. Catling had snatched…
Jack! Noah screamed at him.
To one side stood Weyland, looking almost as shell-shocked as Jack. As Noah continued to shake Jack, Ariadne and Silvius appeared, both leaning on each other, both wearing devastated expressions.
Noah drew back one hand and dealt Jack a sharp blow across the face. “Damn you,” she hissed. “Where is Grace? I can’t sense her!”
Jack finally responded. He raised his eyes, looked at each person one by one, and finally rasped, “She’s trapped with Catling. We’ve lost her.”
Noah’s eyes went impossibly wide, and she made a sound halfway between a whimper and a groan.
Weyland’s mouth dropped open, very slightly, then he moved, lunging the two paces that separated him from Jack and grabbing at Jack’s hair, wrenching the man’s head about. “Where…is…my…daughter?”
“She’s trapped with Catling!” This time Jack roared the words, tearing himself out of Weyland’s grip.
“The devising—” Ariadne began.
“The devising wasn’t strong enough!” Jack said. “Catling had increased the power of her hex. Grace is trapped with Catling!”
“No,” Noah whispered.
“Yes!” Jack said. “Yes, yes, yes!” He paused, then continued in a whisper. “Jesus Christ…yes.”
“Jack,” said Silvius. He moved to his son’s side, hesitated then put a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Are you certain?”
Jack raised his face to his father, and Silvius needed no other answer than the despair he could see in his son’s eyes.
“Oh, gods,” Silvius whispered, “Catling took her.”
“No…” Noah whimpered.
Much later, when they were the only ones left on the bank, Ariadne and Silvius turned to study London burning across the river.
“The Troy Game is gon
e,” Ariadne observed. Her voice was listless, her shoulders slumped.
“Aye,” said Silvius. “Grace must have kept on dancing, even though she knew she was trapped. She and Jack completed the Shadow Game and trapped Catling. The Troy Game is gone, but Grace is gone with it.”
Ariadne was silent a very long time. Then, finally, she turned to Silvius and allowed him to envelop her in his arms.
“How can any of us continue to live?” she said.
EPILOGUE
St Dunstan’s-in-the-East, London, and Copt Hall 1971
Acrowd of some two hundred people crowded into Idol Lane, spilling over into the churchyard of St Dunstan’s-in-the-East. It was a fine day, and the ruined church, despite its lack of a roof and its blackened walls, managed to look both beautiful and peaceful.
And, somehow, useful.
London had been so devastated by the war, and so much had been destroyed, that rebuilding had taken decades. In the immediate postwar period there had not been the money or the raw materials to rebuild St Dunstan’s. What finance and materials there were had gone into rebuilding homes and businesses and hospitals and docklands.
God’s houses had been forced to wait.
When money and materials finally became available, some twenty years after the war, the ruins of many of London’s ancient churches were bulldozed. As central London had been abandoned to business and finance, congregations of many of the churches had shrunk until there were only a handful of worshippers left. Better to amalgamate parishes than to rebuild everything that had been ruined.
After hundreds of years of ministry, there was no one left for St Dunstan’s-in-the-East. The church came perilously close to being demolished to make room for an office block, but in the end the decision was made to make the leaning walls safe, and turn the churchyard into a garden and a place for contemplation.
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