He gave the top a press and the faceplate popped open revealing the inner workings, the cogs, the domed glass face and the petite hands that told the time. It was quarter past six in the morning, he had slept for a considerable few hours which came as quite the surprise for Robin. He felt great, still a little tired but it must have done him a world of good. He gave his face a rub and yawned in to his clenched fist, glancing vaguely across the room at his satchel that was bulging at the seams and slumped at the end of the bed exactly where he had left it.
Slowly and gradually, reality began to strike as deep as heartache could reach as the situation at hand became vividly apparent. If it could have been a dream that would have made everything just perfect. But it wasn’t a dream at all, time was of the essence - and didn’t he know it. Soon he’d have to say his painful farewells. What excuse could he possibly make, he wondered, feeling lost as he searched for an answer.
“It will surely keep me awake,” he muttered, with a face sunk by deep thought as he wandered away from the window and began to head for the door.
He turned the brass handle as quietly and carefully as possible, pulled the door open and crept down towards the bathroom. The hallway was still dark, but the landing was cast in the soft radiance of the morning sun as it pierced the window panes and fell along the staircase bannister. He was the first awake it seemed, even Mrs. Jilling’s door was still pulled to, he noticed as he staggered past and entered the bathroom.
He grabbed his comb from the sink and began running it through his wavy brown hair, brushing away the mess that had accumulated overnight. A dash of water was all it needed and it sprung back in to a life of its own, perfectly coiffed and tucked behind the ears. He ran the comb one last time then splashed his face with a handful of chilled water from the tap, then patted it dry with the towel that hung beside the sink.
A tiny mirror posed on top of the toilet unit, glaring up at Robin who couldn’t help but take a glance, not from vanity, but just to lay his eyes on a man that was about to leave everything and everyone he had ever loved, man whose life was about to be turned on its head. He stared deep into the dark of his eyes and took a breath, before turning away from his reflection and emptying his bladder in to the pan beneath him - it was a satisfying relief.
The toilet flushed, he washed and dried his hands and the bathroom door swung open. Robin returned to the hallway, fastening his shirt buttons and stretching his limbs as he marched back to his room where he grabbed the green satchel from his bed then began his descent, downstairs.
* * *
Kirsten and Emily were snuggled together, asleep on the sofa. The christmas tree was still aglow, casting pink and blue stars upon the living room walls. The orange scented candle on the fireplace had eventually burned out in the night and the television set was playing to itself - Robin crept in quietly and turned it off, then pulled one of the curtains aside to help lighten the room.
They looked so peaceful, he observed as he moved around them.
“They’re just perfect,” he said softly, kneeling at their side and gently stroking the hair away from their faces.
Emily smiled, lost in a dream of her own. Robin just had to remind himself and remember the reason for leaving, the hope he held of a better life for them all. Kirsten’s health restored - the chances of that made everything worthwhile, no matter what he had to endure to get there...
In that moment, confidence had returned and his overactive mind fell at ease as he sat there, mesmerised and paralysed by his unconditional love for his family.
It was now time, and the opportunity to dare to reach for the chance to alter the course of fate would never come again. He knew he had to take this chance.
He rose to his feet, left the living room and entered the dimly lit kitchen. He turned on the kettle, took out four mugs and a handful of tea bags, then placed them on the counter. His mustard yellow coat was still hung from the back of the chair that sat at the side of the dining table. He pulled it free and flung it around him, his arms slotting in to the sleeves and ending perfectly against the white of his shirt. He gave it a quick pat down, knocking away any dirt and dust before slipping on his brown leather boots - they were very worn but the distressed look about them reflected his mood perfectly, he took no shame in noticing as he pulled his laces tight and tied them into a long and loopy bow.
“There, that should do it.”
The kettle clonked and steam hurtled from the spout as the water reached boiling point. Robin poured the water in to the ceramic teapot and dropped a couple of tea bags inside before giving it a quick stir, listening out behind him as he heard the sound of Mrs. Jilling’s slippers scrunching in to the carpet as she approached the kitchen.
“Good morning, Mrs. J.”
“It is, isn't it. And to what do I owe this pleasure?” she asked, gesturing towards the four mugs.
“Call it a going away treat. Fancy some toast to go with it?”
“Oh no, the tea will do just nicely, thank you,” She smiled.
“I - I need to ask a big favour… don’t think I’m trying to sweeten the situation, I just genuinely need help.”
“I know you do.”
“It’s not been easy trying to think up an excuse to be setting off like this, but I was wondering, could you just say I’ve gone to check on the store? Then when I’m late back, just make out I said something about a special surprise, because let’s face it, where I’m going I’m certainly bound to bring something back that will cause a rather exciting stir, eh?”
Robin began to pour the tea in to the four mugs and Mrs. Jilling’s somewhat vacant expression turned in to a devilish smirk.
“I think that will work, perfectly,” she added, giving Robin a pat on the shoulder.
“Kirsten’s going to be suspicious no matter what, but when she’s eventually told the truths of this mad situation, she won’t question it…”
“Robin, she can never know the truth. There are laws in force that keeps both worlds apart, leave it with me, I will find a way to put her at ease. Even if it means the use of a mild sleeping charm!”
Robin turned abruptly and chuckled.
“We’ll be having less of that!”
He grabbed the satchel and lifted its strap over his head and twisted the bag against his back, then looked back at Mrs. Jillings who was stood at the counter, casting him an encouraging look of respect.
“Why did you do four cups of tea, Robin?”
He shrugged his shoulders.
“My mistake,” he chirped, making a turn for the front door.
“Oh, Robin!” she called, remembering something important, “I never told you how to gain access to the Institute, in the… Morient world,” she whispered, scuttling over on the tip of her toes, “It is essential that you take the secret entrance. It was a specific requirement from Grimtale. Only then would he be able to trust that you are who you say you are.”
“But my face is on the parchment, the credentials,” he raised the wallet and flipped it open, right under her nose.
“Well, if you were using some kind of disfigurement charm, it would make things a tad difficult, however, I do stand corrected. You look dashing, just like the man inside the wallet.”
“The man, being?”
“You of course, just not the Robin that I’ve had the pleasure of knowing in recent years, let’s leave it at that!”
Robin returned the wallet to his waistcoat pocket as intrigue grew.
“Now, the gateway will be found at the foot of the oldest tree to stand in Vinemoore, which I’m certain you know the whereabouts of. A flick of the wand should do it, but keep it discreet. Under no circumstances should you enter if being followed, no matter who or what it is. One witness is all it takes before the location becomes common knowledge and I know you’re not stupid, you know what can then happen…”
For once, Robin understood the severity.
“Those things, the reapers. They have a crushing advantage, no
t to mention the additional lives that would be endangered, lives that stand protected. You’ve really nothing to worry about, I’ve got this,” he assured her with an alluring wink before taking his leave.
It felt as if time had eased as he made his way down the hallway, past the staircase and between the open door frame. It was like a picture frame, frozen in a moment that depicted the love and joy that their lives were now filled with. Kirsten and Emily were safe, they would always be safe with Mrs. Jillings. Then as swift as the turn of a handle, the decision was made, his brewing adventure was now in full swing, at last.
CHAPTER 9
Puddles and Predicaments
He stood on the concrete slab outside his cottage. The air was brisk and the skies were polluted with swirly, pastel coloured clouds.
Winter had never been his favourite time of year but it did at least offer a choice of many gorgeous coats to wear, and a beautiful morning sunrise with the occasional event of snowfall - nothing could beat waking up to a fresh blanket of snow - but that had all gone now.
The pathways were almost dry, even the icicles had gotten a little hot under the collar, they were all but a tiny snub, still latched on, hanging underneath most of the steel gates and window ledges that lined the cobbled high street.
There sure were better days to be traipsing across town, but time was forever fleeting and the thought of a soggy sock wasn’t going to deter Robin. He was already on his way down the hillside, slipping, sliding and splashing.
The streets were so peaceful, there was not a soul in sight, just the sound of the wind, gently brushing by and whistling down the alleyways. Robin had considered leaving before sunrise, which would have been ideal, he could have slipped by unseen, but there hadn’t been so much as a curtain twitch, he noticed, headed for the steps beside the bakery.
Thankfully the steps were no longer a hazard, so they didn’t slow his pace as he descended in to the market district, the heart of the town. It was vast and ran all the way to the Black Mountain that sat tall and grand in the mere distance, like a powerful god watching over its creations. Robin felt awfully small as he shot the mountain a curious glance. Even being sat miles across the land, it still towered over the tallest points in Vinemoore. It was quite the sight and had forever struck an enigma with the town’s people, those yet to venture as far as the mountains ascent. There had never been one known in history to make the journey across Shoulders Heath and return to tell the tale.
It was fear, it was unquestionable fear, Robin decided as his mind wandered, while his feet continued in motion, carrying him on, down through the damp narrowing street where rusty signs pivoted from the closed shop fronts, swaying in the mellow breeze and screeching a metallic squeal, thirsty for oil as Robin passed beneath.
He pulled his collar high around his face as the pathway cooled, dark and water clogged. The walls glistened and the remaining stubs of icicles dropped at his submerged feet, reminding him of the unpleasant events that followed the last time he was anxiously passing down a silent, gloomy alleyway.
“It’s just a coincidence,” he reassured himself, constraining the urge to turn around.
“We’ll be out of here in a jiffy,” he added reassuringly as he climbed the final two concrete steps that led up and out of the flooded alley and in to the sunlight that had begun to beam a warming light, down through the spindly branches and on to the courtyard slabs as it rose higher, into the morning sky.
The smell of change filled his nostrils as he emerged from the shadows and into the light. He first noticed a strange, singular puddle at the base of the old oak tree. The ground around it was bone dry and there was no sign of damp for a good few yards. It seemed awfully deep for a puddle and it was moving, rippling as a soft wind swept in from the east - but there was not just the one peculiar sight that Robin had unearthed, there was another.
The walkway he always took to work, the one with the overgrown bushes and zombie-like branches, it was as dark as the night and a smokey fume was rising from behind the wall.
Was something on fire, or was it a trap?
The option that seemed most obvious was no longer the logical choice. Robin watched carefully as the black mass begun to set in motion, drifting along the top of the crusty foliage. It was moving towards the courtyard - towards him, he realised before surveying the area for some place to hide. He leapt for the closest and safest spot, the bright red post box outside an old abandoned building, where he was out of sight to whoever, or whatever was on its way out.
Robin stepped back a little further, pressing himself firmly inside a open porch that overhung from the abandoned shop. The wood was breaking away and the door was boarded up, so there wasn’t much choice but to hold his position, peeping across at the walkway, waiting while the mass of energy neared, just a few metres from the clearing.
He could feel his body trembling, he was tense and a cold sweat had surfaced as his most recent fear returned - they were back, the sight of those familiar dark robes and silver faceplates had stemmed an uncontrollable frenzy. Robin pulled himself out of sight and froze, hoping that the group of reapers hadn’t spotted him as they gallivanted around the open courtyard space.
Each of their cold disguises were unique. The leader of the pack was distinct by the way she carried herself in to the centre of the courtyard, with a slight hunch and wielding her wand loosely in her right hand. Her hair had escaped from under the hood that sat heavy over her head. It was long, wavy and almost white. Strands were caught in the wind, whirling around and clinging to the chrome of her mask like spiders legs - They were terrifying, and in force...
Robin took a breath, then stupidly glanced around towards the tree. Thankfully they hadn’t noticed him, but there was certainly more than three this time, there had to be five or six, restless and waiting in close proximity.
He hadn’t the foggiest why his wand was in his hand, he didn’t know how to use it.
All it was good for was twiddling as an attempt to keep the growing nerves at bay - but it wasn’t working. It was just defecting his concentration, so he carefully put the wand back in his waistcoat pocket and decided to bide his time, listening closely to the sound of the Reapers boots, thudding far and near.
“You’ve lost him! I told you we should have struck the moment we had him in our sights!” bellowed the largest of the group from behind the ranks, making his way forward in to the centre of the courtyard.
The white haired Reaper turned to address him, watching his approach, her chin rattling beneath the mask as she restrained her inner urges.
“What do you have to say for yourself, Saph? Oh, what’s this… you’re trembling, maybe we can give you something for that.”
She remained defiant, glaring coldly at the fat rebel, who was now stood level, eye to eye, believing his presence was enough to intimidate her - well, how wrong he would be about that. Their standoff was short lived as Saph brought it to a sudden close, launching her head forward, like a rocket, knocking the rebel off his feet.
Robin gasped, his eyes wide as he heard the clang of solid metal and a splash, followed by a thud as the Reapers body hit the ground.
“No, no, no…,” Robin muttered, with his mind aglow with visions of the enemy discovering the entrance. For all he knew, it may have been the puddle, but he could think of far worse disguises.
“Stand, stand goddamnit! Because if it’s a brawl you’re after, then let’s be having it, you brute of a man!”
The rebel Reaper quaked in his boots, still damp and suffering from a mild concussion. His vision was a blur but he could make out the dark outline of Sapphire, knelt beside him and reaching for his throat.
“I’m going to offer you something - a choice. But before I do, let’s not forget why the master entrusted me to lead this legion.”
He wiped dry the exposed side of his face, coughing and spluttering, finding his long lost composure.
“I bet you think you’re better than us? Why should we follow
a woman of all people?”
Saph bit down hard on her tongue, her restraints now beginning to show signs of cracking.
“I don’t see that being a problem, or am I mistaken?” she replied, glancing up at the other Reapers, who stood obedient as the rebel panicked, calling out to those he had considered his friends.
“You fools, You bloody fools!”
He yelled, realising that things were about to turn ugly as Sapphire directed her vicious looking wand down, towards his chest, its razor sharp tip like a pin, ready to inflict pain.
“Treacherous kind, like yourself, do not belong in the ranks of my legion. Your services, as of now, are terminated!”
She explained in a monochrome tone, watching as the life drained from the rebels face until all that remained was a skeletal corpse, wrapped within the endless layers of black, damp fabric. The remaining fragments of the Reapers soul slowly relinquished into the light at the end of Sapphires wand.
“We have no cause for concern, do we?” she asked, quietly, glancing over towards each of the remaining Reapers, who gave a subtle shake of the head.
“Good, now disperse. Find the professor!” She ordered, rising to her feet to witness the four dark figures disappear behind a ball of dark, smouldering vapour.
Robin could feel his body slowly relaxing, knowing that the Reapers were passing; however he still had a gut-curdling feeling that he was being watched. He could sense her eyes burning in his direction but she didn’t approach, instead, she turned away. The sound of metal chains rattled from her boots as she vacated the courtyard, evaporating under a thick cloud of dark matter.
Robin could just make out the misty, organic fragments, floating towards the sky as he peered over to observe the courtyard, now safe and free of evil. He cautiously crept out from behind the porch, watching over his shoulder and in every direction, just to make sure for certain that the Reapers were gone and not reeling him in to a devious ploy.
The Professor and the Starlight Phoenix Page 10