Icefall (13 page)

~
I can't be disappointed. So no.
Remembering the beast's retort in the cavern, Kate smiled to herself.

Perhaps there's a shadow of a conscience left in here,
she told herself.

No matter. It's not for much longer.

 

Hannah

What can I say about those weeks after the murders? I'd hated Lauren and her family for most of my life. What are you supposed to do when they die? Bad enough when it's people you love.

And what could I say to her? Nothing. I hadn't wanted the Rooneys to die, but before they did, I hadn't much cared if they lived. I was genuinely upset about Sheena, but I'd have felt a right fraud playing the grief-stricken niece in front of Lauren. In their hideous deaths they'd leap-frogged over my head to the moral high ground. They'd left me wallowing in the muck, and that's where I deserved to be. For the moment, at least. For Lauren's sake.

Guilt. It's a terrible thing. Makes you take terrible decisions, do terrible things in your turn.

I don't know what trick my friends used to convince Lauren; she seemed to accept it. She remembered almost nothing of the events that night, but at least they hadn't done that to her, or they said they hadn't; that seemed to be genuine trauma. She left school abruptly and completely; Finn made it official with a fraudulent phone call and a twist of some brainwaves. Lauren knew we'd taken her in to protect her; she knew that Something was being Done. As the long weeks passed, I suppose it became more convincing, not less. She spent a lot of time sleeping.

For the first week, she was all out of silliness and bitchiness. Maybe that was shock; maybe it was just that her mind was being twisted and warped and there was no room in it for thinking. She was blank and rigid, completely withdrawn, but she didn't reject me and Rory, she didn't shove us away. It was like moving a playing piece around a board game: we told her when to sleep and when to eat and she did. She didn't even cry much: only sometimes, silently.

~
She worries me,
said Sionnach.

Seth said nothing, but to my undying gratitude he didn't tell Sionnach to take her down to the cliffs and slit her throat and throw her over. Seth just watched her, constantly, and he ordered Finn and Sorcha and Orach to keep an eye on her all the time. Jed, as far as I was concerned, kept far too much of an eye on her. I knew he thought the same as Sionnach: that we should have killed Lauren. Now he sat by and watched while they did that thing he always said he hated: messing with a young mind.

And I just watched them, guilty and angry and completely paralysed by doubt. It wasn't right, what they did, but it was more right than Sionnach and Jed and who-knew-who-else being rounded up and jailed for bloody murder. It was more right than the lot of us being exposed to the daylight and the police and the press, and being vulnerable to enemies, and maybe getting killed ourselves.

That's what they said, anyway.

‘It's child abduction,' I snarled at Finn one day as we loaded the dishwasher for the third cycle of the night. ‘In all but name it is. You're all screwing up her mind.'

‘We don't have a choice,' she said for the fiftieth time. ‘Hannah, we don't.'

‘How can Jed sit there and watch this? Seth did the same to him once.'

‘Jed knows that was necessary. In Seth's eyes, there and then. He's not angry any more.'

‘He's never forgotten.'

Finn paused to study my face, a little sadly. She turned a dirty cup in her hands, over and over, and didn't notice when drips of cold coffee spattered the tiles. ‘No.'

‘It's wrong, Finn. Not just Lauren's head. Four people died and nobody's even paying.'

‘They will, I
promise.
'

I just sniffed, and slammed a plate into the rack so hard it cracked.

Finn didn't even scold me. She bit her lip as she rinsed another plate. ‘Lauren's got us, Hannah. I know you don't like it but at least we can keep her safe.'

‘She doesn't have us. Not in real life.' I was torn between anger and guilt. The very idea of trying to talk to Lauren about any of it filled me with horror. ‘You lot just spy on her.'

Finn rubbed her damp forehead with an arm. ‘We have to.'

‘The only reason you have to is because you're terrified she'll realise what's going on.'

‘Look, it's not that big a struggle. She's shut it away all by herself. That night, everything that happened, it's inside a locked room in her mind, because she doesn't want to look at it.'

Honestly, I wanted to throttle the woman. ‘I thought you were brought up in the real world? Finn, she's
got
to look at it. Some time.'

‘True, but not right now. I can't see inside that locked room for now, but neither can she. The rest of it's easy.'

‘Easy.'

‘Yes, easy.' She shrugged. ‘Would you rather we kept her locked up for real? We can only give her freedom to wander because we keep tabs on her head. She likes to walk and I'm glad. How do you think she'd manage if she was stuck in the house?'

‘You don't get it, do you? I'm not that girl's biggest fan, but you're hurting her. One of these days she'll realise what's happening and she'll go mad. You can't keep it up forever. That's when it's going to go tits-up, Finn, that's when
everybody's
going to get hurt.'

Finn slammed the dishwasher shut and hit the start button with a clenched fist. ‘It's a stopgap, Hannah! We have to think of something, yes, but
now is not the time.
'

‘When is it going to be the time? You're all in denial! You're doing nothing!'

Finn leaned back against the gurgling dishwasher and folded her arms. ‘I have done something.'

That look in her crystal cold eyes. So aggressive, and Lauren or no Lauren, I knew I wasn't going to like what she'd done.

‘What?' I said. ‘Tell me.'

A slight shrug. ‘Somebody,' began Finn, and licked her lips. ‘Somebody called me last night. I invited her over.'

I stared at her. ‘We can't have anybody else here!

‘You said it yourself, Hannah, you don't even like Lauren. She needs help, and you got that right: we're not giving it to her. She needs family, whatever there is left of it.'

‘No,' I said pointlessly, because the frisson between my shoulder blades was horrible. ‘Finn. Why did you want me in here helping you? It's not my turn.'

‘Because I wanted to tell you. Tell you myself. She's coming round—' she glanced at her watch ‘—around now.'

She was blocking me, the devious cow. I scowled. Block or no block, I could still make her skin prickle just by giving her a certain look. So I did, and she shivered; and I swear that was the exact moment I heard a car door slam, and hesitant footsteps crunch on the drive.

And, ‘You bitch,' I said. ‘You bitch.'

*   *   *

Either the woman had been crying or her eyes were smokily made up. Maybe both. Her hair was red and short, flicked out at the ends. She'd always worn it short. She hadn't always dressed like that, though: all respectable and modest, a navy summer coat belted round her small waist. She blinked, trying to smile.

I was taller than her, I realised as I stood at the open door, blocking her path. It had been so long since I'd seen her, and now she looked so small, and I'd outgrown her.

In more ways than one.

~
Hello, Mother.

She didn't hear that, of course. She just forced a hideous smile and said, ‘Hannah?' With a question mark and everything.

Finn was keeping her distance, hanging back at the kitchen door and twisting a dishcloth in her fingers, but I was piercingly aware of her. This time four years ago, she'd been a stranger to me. Her and Seth, total strangers, and ones I didn't even like when I met them. Now, though for the moment I wanted to kill Finn—and Seth must have known about this, so my hatred extended to him—they both meant more to me than
she
did.

It wasn't just that they'd been mother and father to me when my real father couldn't, and my real mother couldn't be bothered. It was going through so much together. My mother had never let me go through anything with her.

‘Hello, Hannah,' said my biological parent, and nibbled at her lipstick.

It was a mannerism I remembered well, and it infuriated me. I tried not to think about crying, curled up on the sofa, as she tried to hug me and keep hold of her suitcase and check her watch, all at the same time.

‘Mother,' I said, and then, ‘How are you?'

And
where have you been?
And
did you miss me even a little?
And
was he worth it?
And
do I mean anything to you?

But I couldn't ask any of that. All I could get out was
How are you?

So formal. As if I cared anyway.

Trying to be casual, my mother lifted her eyebrows and glanced behind me. Oh, now I had a decent reaction. Her eyes widened, the blood drained out of her face so fast it was cartoonish, and I thought she might trip over her own feet.

I looked over my shoulder. Finn wasn't alone: Seth had come downstairs and he was standing at her side, silent and thoughtful.

Smiling, I turned back to my mother. ‘Did you think he was someone else?'

‘I—yes.' At last she focused on me, drawing a deep breath, opening her mouth to explain herself. ‘Hannah, I've got to tell you—'

‘He's not so tall.' I was amazed and pleased at how cool I sounded. ‘His hair's much darker. Different look about him, don't you think? Something about his eyes.'

Any blood left in Mum's face was gone.

‘Brothers,' I said. ‘See?'

‘Brothers? Is this Conal's
brother
?' Mum wore a helpless smile, and I wanted to wipe it right off her face. She didn't even ask me how I knew. She didn't even ask who had told me who'd fathered me. ‘Is he—how is Conal?' She focused on Seth again, eyes dancing.

Was I really loving this moment? Did I hate her so much that I wanted to revel in it? Maybe. That's what the Sithe are like. But maybe I was only so angry, and so terribly hurt, that I wanted to share it with her.

‘How is Conal?' I said. ‘He's dead.'

Her smile went rigid. ‘He can't be.'

‘Why can't he? He is. He's dead.'

‘Hannah…' Seth had come to my side, and his hand rested in the small of my back. From her perspective it must have looked like nothing but a small comforting gesture, but I felt strength like flexible steel running up my spine.

‘Perhaps Aileen would like to come in,' said Seth.

I heard the warning in his voice but I said. ‘No.'

Tears filled my mother's eyelids, and she lifted her fingers to push them back.

Damn her, why wouldn't she cry? ‘He died this really violent death. He was in so much pain his lover had to cut his throat.' I paused for effect. ‘His proper lover.'

She made a little keening noise, put her hands over her mouth.

‘If you'd come home,' I said, ‘we'd never have had to know that. Neither of us. If you'd come home.'

Tears clung trembling to her lashes but didn't fall. I wanted them to fall.

‘But I'm glad you didn't come back. These are my friends. I met them after you left. I was a bit too late to meet my dad, because he's
dead
, but I've seen … I've seen…' I pressed my teeth together and spoke through them ‘… pictures.'

‘That's enough, Hannah,' said Seth.

‘No, it's not,' I said venomously. ‘It'll never be enough.'

I shook off Seth's hand and walked away, and I didn't look back. I was too afraid he'd come after me. I didn't want any stupid sympathy: I was too ashamed.

I was ashamed I wasn't crying, nothing like. I couldn't cry because there was nothing worth crying over. I hated her, hated her, and I was hers, and so I hated myself as well.

*   *   *

Pictures. Pictures.

I'd seen pictures.

The last time I saw my father he was tied to a stake, whipped and shorn and ready for burning along with the weeping and terrified girl at his side. The last time I saw my father I was on the point of killing him, a crossbow in my capable hands and his heart in my sights. The last time I saw my father, I was Seth.

I'd made him show me that memory. He'd been very reluctant. Not only because he wasn't sure I should See it, but because he dreaded reliving it. It must have returned to him many times in his dreams. It froze his heart, remembering how close he'd come to killing his brother. Foreshadowed the real guilt, too: the guilt he'd live with for the rest of his life.

‘What happened to the girl?' I'd asked him, that late and darkening afternoon last November.

It had seemed the safest thing to ask, when he'd only just broken contact, rubbing his face and shivering. I felt cold and scared and shaken too, and it wasn't just the shredded remnants of Seth's old emotions, though those shadowed his face like ghosts. We sat on opposite sides of the kitchen table: just me and Seth. Finn had warned everyone else to stay out, and nobody crossed Finn in that kind of mood. If anyone was hungry, they'd wait.

‘What happened to her?' I prompted.

He sounded shocked. ‘The girl?'

‘The girl. The girl with Conal. What happened to her?'

‘She came with us.' Seth looked straight through me. ‘She came over with us and she stayed.'

‘Her whole life?'

Seth licked his lips. ‘Almost.'

‘So she did go home in the end.'

‘Came back here? Oh, yes. We all did.' He ground his knuckles into his temples. ‘She was old by then.'