Rising Dark (The Darkling Trilogy, Book 2) (28 page)

I quickly looked away and made to walk
past him, but he grasped me by the arm, his grip surprisingly
strong.

“
You are not a ghost. You
are real.”

I was saved from answering, first of
all by the fact that his thoughts suddenly became cloudy and I
noticed that one eye was drooping slightly. He was trying to speak,
but no words came out of his mouth and I caught nothing coherent
from his mind. His legs seemed to give way beneath him and he fell
to his knees, still clutching my arm and that was when I was able
to grasp one of his memories clearly.

It was an old memory that had been
revisited countless times over the decades and was like an ancient
photograph that was worn and frayed. It was a cherished memory, but
one that sang of sorrow and anguish.

It was night time and he
was looking out of a window down at a man who had his back to him.
The man was with a woman who was young, radiant, and clearly in
love. The boy at the window was only fourteen, and for most of his
life, he had sought his father’s attention, approval, and love. He
had never considered that the man below meant almost as much to him
as his father. And it made him sad because although the man with
the young woman had always been kind and generous, he had also been
distant.

Suddenly seized with
urgency, he called out to him and when the man turned around, he
rushed from the window, leaping down the stairs, anxiety making his
breath shallow at the thought that he would get downstairs and the
man would be gone. Relief flooded him when he opened the front door
and saw him waiting by the carriage. He rushed forward and threw
himself into my arms.

“
Philip!”

I dropped to my knees and gathered him
in my arms as he tilted backwards whilst throngs of people moved
past us.

He was so frail, but he grasped my
hand tightly and nodded. His vivid blue eyes, a virtual mirror of
my own, filling with tears.

“
Avery.” His speech was
slurred and I saw now that the reason I had struggled to read his
thoughts earlier was because something was happening within his
mind.

“
Father! What happened?” A
beautiful, slender young woman with deep blue eyes and long flaxen
curls appeared out of nowhere and was kneeling on Philip’s other
side. But he wouldn’t even look at her and his grip on my hand
tightened.

I wanted to take him away from there,
but the street was now heaving with passersby who had stopped to
surround us. Someone had already flagged down a carriage and two
other males, who appeared to know him and the young woman, were
gently pulling him out of my arms. Even if my blood could possibly
save him, I couldn’t risk exposing myself as I was so weak from
days spent out in the daylight and knew there was no way I could
try and control all these people. I noticed now that the young
woman by his side was staring at me intently, hazy recognition in
her eyes.

I had to let him go and I gently pried
his hand away from mine. I backed away as they picked him up to
place him in the carriage. He appeared to become more distressed
when he saw me move back, and fearing it would exacerbate whatever
had caused him to collapse, I reached for his mind and lulled him
into a semiconscious state. He was placed in the carriage and I
watched it pull away. I followed, already knowing from the minds of
those around him that they were heading for his home.

I was distraught. To get here and find
one of them alive, only to have him taken away like this, was a
cruel joke.

***

I spent the rest of the day outside
his home listening to the events that were taking place inside. The
doctor had been called, and as was usual for the times, there
didn’t seem to be much he could do but make sure Philip was kept
comfortable. His health had been bad for a while now, due to the
kind of excesses I had seen in our father. The doctor did not think
he would last the week.

I sat outside until dusk, and then
went to the front door, desperately needing to see Philip. I had
come too far to have this opportunity snatched from me. I rang the
bell, considering using my powers to control them into inviting me
in, but this was Philip and the people inside were my family. I did
not want to enter his home under deception or coercion.

One of the maids answered the
door.

“
Good evening,
I...I...”

I grew quiet when the young woman that
had been with Philip that afternoon appeared behind the maid. Again
there was recognition in her eyes, but it seemed as if she could
not place my face.

“
Thank you, Jane. I will
deal with this,” she said to the maid.

“
Yes, Miss Jennifer.” She
disappeared down the corridor.

“
You were there this
afternoon?” Her eyes were accusing, her tone sharp.

“
Yes. You see, I know, or
used to know, your father very well. It was a shock for both of us
to come across one another after so many years, and I do not wish
to intrude on such a private moment, but I wondered if you could
invite me into your home so that I may see him.”

“
He is very unwell. For
some reason he is also extremely agitated and is not resting well
as he should. He is not supposed to have visitors.” Looking at my
youthful appearance, she did not believe I could know her
father.

“
Miss...I...I...” I felt
my grief begin to overwhelm me. “I mean your family no harm. I
cannot explain how I know your father, but he would want to see me,
so please, let me spend some time with him, even if it is only a
few moments.”

She stared at me for a long moment and
then moved aside to let me inside.

Philip was in his room with a nurse,
his two sons, and a few of his grandchildren. The drooping I had
seen in one of his eyelids had progressed down the side of his
face, his complexion was grey and he seemed much older than his
sixty-four years. But I immediately saw the tall, gangly boy he
used to be in his eyes, which lit up the moment I entered the room.
His eyes welled up with tears as I went to his side and knelt by
the bed beside him, clasping his hand, unable to hold back my own
tears.

The others merely stared at me,
wondering at the stranger in their midst, the recognition I had
seen in his daughter’s eyes in one of the male’s. Philip gestured
for them all to leave the room. At first they all stared at him
until his daughter, my niece Jennifer, ushered them out of the
room. She stared intently at me for a long moment before she closed
the door, leaving us alone.

“
Philip, my dearest
brother,” I was able to say after a few moments.

He was trying to speak, attempting to
mutter my name and I felt his frustration at the fact that he
couldn’t speak properly. I placed my hand against his
forehead.

Please, do not exert
yourself. Say what you will in your mind. I will hear
you.

You can hear
me
? The grip on my hand increased and he
became excited again.
He knew. He knew you
were still alive but no one believed him.

I searched his mind.

Father?

He nodded
emphatically.
When the news reached us
that you had perished in a fire, he flew into a rage the likes of
which I have never seen.

I could see the memory of that
moment.

Albert and Philip had gone
looking for my father and found him at his club. They had been
taken to a private room and I saw Albert as Philip had seen him
then, his face completely white, his hands shaking as he tried to
deliver the bad news.

“
Father, there...there is
something I must tell you. It concerns Avery,” he said.

“
I told you to never
mention his name in my presence!” my father roared at Albert, then
took a swig of his brandy.

“
Father, please sit
down.”

My father looked to Philip
and then Albert, seeing now that something was wrong. Instead of
sitting down, he closed the space between him and Albert and
grasped him by the arm in one of those painful, heavy handed
touches of his that used to irritate me so much when I was a
man.

Albert broke the news to
him and all the resentment I had held toward my father began to
seem extremely petty when I saw his reaction through Philip’s young
eyes. The awful moment when the words were said had stayed with
Philip all his life. My father’s face had been completely drained
of colour and emotion, leaving it a grey, bewildered shell. He
staggered back from the two of them, and for once in his life, he
appeared completely unsure of himself, as if the ground beneath his
feet had been torn away.

Then rage flooded his
features. He threw the glass in his hand against the wall, then
turned in a rage and smashed the other glasses on the table along
with a decanter of brandy. Philip made a move toward him, to try
and halt the mindless rage as he tore through the room upending
furniture, but Albert blocked his path with one arm, and shook his
head at him.

My father eventually come
to a stop amidst the wreckage and the last image of that moment was
of my father slumping to his knees, blood streaming from a cut from
one hand as he held them to his face and wept
.

Philip remained silent for a few
moments, completely absorbed in the painful memory.

He wouldn’t accept
it,
he continued
.
He left for the plantation in America. Even when they found some of
your belongings among what remained of the mansion, he still
wouldn’t believe it. He searched America for you until he was too
ill to travel. And even on his death bed, he wouldn’t accept that
you were dead. He made us promise to keep looking for you. I didn’t
listen. I gave up on you.

I was shocked to learn this and saw
memories along with the words. My father had been wracked with
guilt and misery for the rest of his life. Philip would often come
and find him brooding alone in his study, the very room we had
argued so often. Throughout all those years in the wilderness, I
had never really given my family much thought, never ever
considered their suffering.

No, Philip, you never gave
up on me.
I was lost for so long, there
was nothing any of you could have done for me.

What happened to you? Why
have you only returned now, and exactly as you were the night you
left for the Americas
?

Something terrible. I...
It must be evident to you that I am no longer human. As I said, I
was lost and I did not think I could return. But I see now that I
should have. That the rejection I perceived may not have occurred
and I could have spared you all so much suffering. But perhaps I
can help you in a small way now. I may be able to heal your
illnesses.

You can make me young
again?

I shook my head. I was tempted, so
tempted to make false promises to him and turn him into a vampire
so I could keep him with me forever. What stopped me was his
vanity. He mourned his youth. To be old, forever, was something he
would never forgive me for.

But I can try and heal
you, stop the pain, maybe give you a few more years.

You can do
that?

Yes.

He was silent as he searched my face.
He eventually shook his head.

No. I am ready. The years
have been good to me. Whatever this miracle to have kept you young,
I can see it has also brought you misery.

I nodded as he reached for
my face with his good hand
. You were such
a good man. I’m so sorry, Avery, for whatever you have
suffered.

I kissed his hand before placing it on
the covers.

You and Albert used to
play a little game with me
, I said,
looking at our moments together through his eyes.

Philip’s expression changed slightly
and a mischievous gleam appeared in his eye, quickly dampened by
guilt. But when he saw I was amused, he relaxed and even
chuckled.

He remembered me as being a kindly
gentle man whose demeanour and piety belied my youth as I tried to
lead him and Albert down the path of righteousness. I was
infinitely patient, unless my father was concerned and he and
Albert used to joke at how many veiled insults I could manage to
make at our father throughout the course of a conversation, all
under the pretext of educating the two of them about the ways of
the Lord. So far the highest had been twelve. But Philip had been
deliberately finding ways to elicit these veiled insults, something
I had been completely unaware of. I merely remembered that
guileless expression of his and those innocent blue
eyes.

I know I do not have long
now. Stay with me until the end,
he
said.

Nothing will keep me
away.

He asked me to call his daughter back
into the room and I watched in frustration as he over-exerted
himself and struggled to speak, eventually writing down what he
wanted with his good hand.

“
The deeds to the house on
Germen Street. It belongs to him. Make sure it is returned to him,”
my niece read out loud from the paper.