Hawthorn (17 page)

Jules and Heather are asleep, curled into a ball in a cocoon of duvets and blankets by the fire. Mum is still out cold on the sofa. I’m exhausted, frightened, confused, angry. I am every negative emotion in the book right now, and if not for Justin’s presence, I might be a pool of tears on the floor.

I’m heating up some hot chocolate while he calls his mum to tell her he’s sleeping over. Wonder how that one will go…

He comes back into the room, face flushed.

“What did your mum say?”

He shrugs. “Nothing.”

I can’t help but smile. He is sweet. He probably got a lecture about being a good boy.

The hot chocolate is ready and I pour it into two mugs and hand him one.

We sit at the table, sipping our drinks, even though they are way too hot.

Justin is the first to break silence. “There has to be a way to get him back. I mean, if this has been going on for such a long time, if this house, your family, have been here for such a long time, then surely something like this must have happened before. If only there were some clue, some record of the past we could use.”

I’m sitting there like an idiot and then it hits me. I almost drop my hot chocolate in my haste to get up. “Come with me.” I rush out the room and up the stairs, my reflection follows me in the many mirrors that climb up with me, but I don’t turn to look, afraid of what I might see, who I might see.

I enter my room and reach under my mattress to retrieve the diary I found in the loft with Liam all those weeks ago. It feels like an age. It may be useless, but it’s something. If I read it at least I’m doing something.

I sit on the floor, back against the bed. Justin joins me.

“What is it?”

“A diary. I found it in the loft when we moved in. I think it might belong to one of my relatives, someone who lived here before.”

Justin nods. “Okay, let’s do it.”

I open the book and flick through the pages. The writing is large and neat. It reminds me of my own. I scan it, frowning, trying to find something about Learmonth, about the house, and then I spot a reference.

Can’t believe we have to move back to that stuffy little village. Not fair that Maddy gets to stay. Wish I was at university. I know she’ll be back in the holidays, but I’m going to be stuck there all year round! Gah! Thank goodness Henry’s coming with us. He’ll make it fun I know he will.

That’s it, the only reference to Learmonth.

“There’s nothing. The rest of the pages have been cut out.”

“They were hiding something,” Justin said.

The weight of disappointment is too heavy. I am about to throw the book across the room when Justin reaches for it.

“What’s this?” He fingers a loose part of the diary skin, running his hand over the back of the book.

I examine it closer, peeling away the jacket and gasp as a wad of pages fall into my hand. I unfold them eagerly, thinking they must be the missing pages, but growl in irritation to find them to be just sketches.

I flick through them. The beach, the beach, the beach with a lone figure on it, a cottage that makes me stop and stare. “I know this place.” I hold it up so Justin can see. “An old woman lives here. It’s by the bridge.”

“A clue?”

“Maybe.” I turn over the last sketch and almost lose it at the familiar, dreaded face staring back at me. I hold it up for Justin to see.

“Bloody hell,” he whispers.

“Yeah, something like that.” I stare at Sam’s face, looking at me from the page. Bea had known Sam. “Mum told me that aunt Bea drowned as a teenager, here in the sea.”

“It’s too much of a coincidence, but it doesn’t give us any answers.”

“No, only more questions.” I rifle through the sketches until I find the one of the old woman’s cottage. Her crazy didn’t seem so crazy right now. “I know someone who may have some answers.”

The old woman opens the door before we can knock, then turns her back on us and walks back into the cottage.

After a moment we follow.

She’s already parked on her sofa. There’s a jar of juice and two glasses and a plate of biscuits on the table. Justin and I exchange glances. He shakes his head slightly. Don’t eat or drink anything, it says.

I agree with a gentle nod.

Just to be safe.

We sit on the sofa opposite her. “You were expecting us,” I say.

“They told me you would come. I’m not supposed to tell you anything.”

My heart sinks.

She smiles, a crooked smile filled with mischief. “I’m not supposed to, but I don’t always do what I’m not supposed to do.”

“So…you’ll help us?”

“I’ll tell you what you need to know, not sure how much good it’ll do ya, though.”

We wait for her to continue, but she is looking down at the jug and glasses.

I shake my head. “We’re fine, but thank you.”

“I should insist,” she says.

The wording is strange and I throw Justin a sideways glance. He shakes his head. “No thank you, we’re fine.”

“Very well.” She leans forward, her forearms pressed against her thighs. “They love bargains, that I can tell you. Not your simple barter, but a long-term commitment. The kind they have with your family.”

“They have a bargain with my family?”

“Your great, great, I dunno how many greats, grandfather Thomas Learmonth, my dear. But I don’t have time to get into that right now. Now where was I? Oh, yes. Sometimes they take things that don’t belong to them, simply to elicit such bargains. Long ago, humans knew more, they believed, and so bargains were set up regularly, seven years off their life for a lifetime of good crops, a beloved pet for seven years of good luck. They like the number seven. I remember I was eleven when they took my little brother. He was playing by the stream. I was supposed to be watching him, but I was bored so I went off to pick daisies to make a chain. I heard him scream. I came running, but he was gone. His shoe was by the river and the scent of roses was strong in the air. I knew they had him.

Mother was devastated, father was incandescent. This had been happening more and more frequently. All the charms and the warding helped a little, but they somehow always found a chink and no one was completely safe.

The villagers met for a meeting. Everyone was there, young, old and babes. It was agreed that we would offer them a truce. We would give them the woods, the night, every full moon and Samhain. We would respect their ways and ward our homes. If we failed then our homes would be free game. Any outsider who didn’t adapt, who didn’t follow our ways, was fair game. They could have him as far as we were concerned. We would protect our own and only our own.

The truce was struck on the Harvest moon and we’ve lived by it ever since. It’s served us well, even though some of us have still suffered.” She glances at the mirror.

“Your daughter…she’s…one of them?”

“More theirs than mine, anyway. I was young and easily seduced. He still visits from time to time, ageless, beautiful. Melinda, my girl, she gets to have the best of both worlds, although her regular association with them has turned her grey and the things that affect them affect her too now. It won’t be long until I lose her to them.”

It’s an interesting story. What I get from it is that if we want Danny back, we have to come up with an attractive offer. I have no idea what we could give them in exchange.

“Did they hurt him, your brother?”

“Took a year off his life. Aside from that, they gave him back with his soul intact.”

“Soul?”

She blinks at us as if we’re stupid. “Yes, soul. It’s what they feed on; the human soul. They don’t have souls so they hunger for ours. To them, our souls are like beacons.”

I can feel my face draining of colour. I haven’t allowed myself to contemplate what’s happening to Danny, but now I have no choice.

“They’ve had my brother for days.” I say. I can feel the tears gathering behind my eyes. My throat is tight. I take a deep breath to keep it together.

She looks at me sympathetically. “In that case, my love, even if you succeed in getting him back, he may not have long left to live.

“I don’t care how long he has. He should be with us, with his family, where he belongs.”

“I know how you feel, love, I truly do, But they’re wily things, tricksters and wordsmiths. Be wary and listen, really listen to what is said.” She glances behind us at the mirror by the door. “And now you should go.” She stands, waving us away.

We don’t have a choice but to go. As she is pushing us out the front door, I realise I have no idea how to get to Danny.

“Wait! How do we get to…wherever he is?”

She glances over her shoulder. When she turns back to us there is real fear in her eyes. “Mirrors. Use the mirrors.” Then the door is slammed in our faces and we are out in the cold, literally.

Trickster stays on my tail as I run away from the little boy, my little boy in the cage. I leap from the trees and into the rocky plains of my other home; the place where I was born. I search for my father. I need his gentle touch, his smile. The sun is high in half the sky, the landscape twisted and surreal. I cling to shadow and peer at each rock, searching for the face I love.

Finally I find it, eyes shut tight, deep in slumber. I press my face to his and allow my tears to fall.

“Father, please. I need you, I need you so much. Please wake up.” The rock is cold and unyielding beneath my fingers. He won’t wake, he never wakes. It’s his promise to me, an oath I know he will never break. I broke his heart and this is how he punishes me.

I slip to the ground and cling to him until I feel the tug of Day Mary.

“You have the bridge, Mary, you have it in your grasp, in your breast. Use it. Be whole and there will be possibilities.”

Trickster’s voice echoes in my ears as I shatter…

She is born…

I’m awake, and for the first time the remnants of a dream paint my mind in vivid hues. I remember the place, the pain and Danny. I saw Danny in a cage! My heart is pounding and I glance about, trying to breathe through the grief and fear that have accompanied me into wakefulness.

I’m in the living room on the sofa. I’m alone.

Danny is gone.

Danny is gone, he’s in a cage.

No, that was just a dream. My head hurts. My heart hurts .I want my little boy back! If only mother would hear my appeal, if only father would wake up. I should have visited him at full dark. He won’t wake for the sun. We never liked the sun. I stop thinking, considering my thoughts. What the hell am I thinking?

Panic grips my chest because it is all so familiar, so normal, yet so strange and alien. These are my thoughts, but not my thoughts. I squeeze my eyes closed to try and grasp them. I can feel the revelation; it is there, almost in my grasp.

“Oh, thank god! Mary!” Jules enters the room and I am me again. “You’re awake.” She slips onto the sofa and wraps her arms around me. “I thought I lost you. I thought you were gone like Danny.”

Danny.

I push her away. “We have to get him back.”

“What?”

I don’t know how, but I know it. Danny is in a cage, dangling from a tree somewhere and he needs me. I tell Jules this, expecting her to laugh, to suggest I take a tranquiliser or something. Instead, she expels a sharp pull of air, her hand coming to her mouth, her eyes tearing up.

“Okay, okay. We’ll find him. We can do this.”

The front door slams and Gemma enters, followed closely by that boy Justin.

She sees me sitting up awake and nods curtly. “Good, you’re back. We have work to do. The Darklings have Danny and we have to go get him back.”

“I know,” I say. “He’s in a cage dangling from a tree.”

Gemma doesn’t bat an eye and I realise how crazy this is, all of it. We’re talking about faeries, dreams that could be real, and sons that shatter. It can’t be happening, but it is, and I know deep in my gut that it’s the most real thing that has ever happened to me.

“Okay, well we need to find a mirror ‘cos that’s the only way to get to…wherever they are,” Gemma says.

“The wardrobe in the smelly room,” Heather says. She has entered the room so silently that I never noticed her. “The mirror in the wardrobe…that’s how they took us, but I tried to make it work and it doesn’t.”

I push back the covers and stand on shaky legs. “We’ll see about that.”

My reflection stares back at me with determination. I watch it raise its hand and reach out. I feel the cold touch of glass against my fingertips.

Please, I think, please. I need him back. Please give my baby back. Let me in. There is no doubt, no embarrassment in pleading with an inanimate object, there is only the solid conviction in my gut that I can do this.

“Mum? Mum, leave it. We’ll have to find another way, we-”

“Shh!” The mirror shimmers, rings radiating outward from the point where my fingers meet glass, a ripple effect like a stone dropping on still waters.

There are no gasps of surprise, there are no questions. I turn to my family and I know what I must do.