by Lee Monroe
I opened the car door, hesitating.
‘Jane …’ Soren’s voice was serious now. ‘This is our chance … It could be our last chance.’
‘I know.’ I hugged my bag to me, my hand hovering on the door-handle. ‘I’ll be here.’
CHAPTER TEN
‘Luca is riding with us tomorrow.’ Lowe eyed Raphael. ‘He is keen to make amends with you.’
‘Is he?’ Raphael’s expression was impassive.
‘You don’t seem enthusiastic.’ Lowe slumped against the stable door.
Raphael plucked a blade of grass and ran his finger down the stem.
‘Clearly it is not ever going to be a straightforward relationship.’ He dropped the grass on to the ground. ‘But he’ll be a strong and reliable influence here one day.’
‘Hmm.’ Lowe narrowed his eyes. ‘Apparently he is.’
‘It makes my great-mother happy to see us at peace with one another. If I am to ascend to the throne I need people like Luca around me. Supporting me.’
‘That’s a nice speech.’
‘It is, isn’t it?’
‘But you don’t want strong and reliable people in your life …’ Lowe stared hard at him. ‘Isn’t that the truth?’
‘Not strictly.’ Raphael got to his feet. ‘I certainly need strength. And reliability, come to that.’
‘I don’t understand. What else would you require?’
‘I require some backbone. Bravery.’
‘Yes …’ Lowe said nervously. ‘Raphael … are you completely cured?’
‘Indeed I am.’ Raphael began pacing, lightly kicking the brick of the stable wall. ‘But not exactly as was before.’
‘Meaning … ?’
Raphael seemed to be considering for a moment, pushing thoughts around his head. Eventually he turned to Lowe.
‘Do you … do you never resent being told what to do all the time?’ he asked. ‘Your destiny is boringly pre-determined by people who don’t really know you. And your innate power is tightly controlled. It’s not exactly natural, is it?’
Lowe frowned. ‘It is the best way.’
‘For whom?’
‘Well … for us all. We just follow tradition and we will be safe.’
Raphael laughed then. ‘Was I safe?’
Lowe looked startled. ‘I … I don’t know—’
‘I mean. I wasn’t safe. I was dangerous. To my family … to myself.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘To mortals.’
‘Yes, but—’
‘So none of us is ever safe, Lowe. Nobody can prevent “madness”.’
The way he pronounced the word ‘madness’ caused Lowe to step closer, intrigued.
‘But you are better now. The madness is gone.’
‘It wasn’t madness!’ Raphael almost spat the words out. ‘That is simply a convenient term for Celeste – and your parents – and every other automaton here to use. I simply had other ideas, that’s all.’
He held the boy’s gaze.
Lowe tried to look away but found himself transfixed. ‘They are not cowards,’ he managed to say. ‘They want the best for us all.’
‘They have built this world on a false notion. The notion that a life without risk is a better life. A safer life. When all it is is a life suppressed.’
‘Maybe it is. But people are happier here.’
‘My father wasn’t.’
‘Wait a moment!’ Lowe said angrily. ‘You were angry about your father. You tried to kill that mortal girl’s family.’
‘I know.’ Raphael dropped his eyes to the ground. ‘I was wrong. I was very angry. Angry that he had gone. I needed to blame someone. Jane’s mother seemed to be the one … that one I could pin all my anger on. But really … he is gone because of this world, all its suffocating expectations. Its refusal to allow any human weakness.’
‘But we are not human,’ Lowe said proudly. ‘We are better than that.’
‘Are you sure?’ Raphael kicked a stone at his feet. ‘I don’t know that we are. We just think we are superior.’
Lowe shook his head. ‘My mother says that sacrifice is the ultimate challenge.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘That by giving up indulgent pleasure we are made stronger.’
‘Or perhaps,’ Raphael replied, putting his hands in his pockets. ‘She is just afraid of feeling.’
The sound of horses’ hooves made the boys turn to see a black stallion cantering towards them.
‘Perhaps you should talk to my brother about sacrifice,’ Lowe said, recognising Luca astride the horse. ‘The two of you can compare notes.’
Raphael ignored him, straightening up and fixing a welcoming smile on his face. He held his hand up in greeting.
Luca drew in his reins and brought the horse to a halt. Dismounting, he nodded at his brother.
‘I didn’t expect you until tomorrow,’ said Raphael, running a hand through his blond curls.
‘Henora is driving me to distraction,’ replied Luca, catching his breath. ‘I had to get out.’
Raphael cast a quick pointed glance at Lowe, before patting Luca on the shoulder.
‘Your choice,’ he said, lightly. ‘You are not bound to this marriage … not yet, anyway.’
A flicker of annoyance passed over Luca’s face.
‘We are all bound to duty,’ he said impassively. ‘I don’t want to have another discussion on the subject.’
Raphael shrugged. ‘Fair enough. But you brought it up.’
Luca attempted a smile. ‘I was struggling with my mother’s determination … not the object of her determination.’
‘I see. Well, good.’ Raphael stretched and yawned. ‘And how is Lila?’
‘Good, as far as I know.’ Luca avoided eye contact. ‘I have not seen her for a while.’
‘Lila is wonderful,’ put in Lowe. ‘She will make a good wife.’
‘She will.’ Luca looked about him, taking hold of his horse’s rein. ‘Are we riding today?’
‘My horse is tired,’ said Raphael. ‘Lowe and I went for a long ride this morning – down to the Water Path. I had forgotten how peaceful it was there. I must spend more time by the river.’
Luca said nothing, but stroked the stallion’s nose.
‘The Water Path is my brother’s favourite place,’ said Lowe. ‘It is where he does all his … thinking. He thinks it is his place … isn’t that right?’
Luca looked sharply at him. ‘Of course not, don’t be ridiculous.’
‘Well … anyway. It makes you think … or makes you forget,’ said Raphael. ‘A place to escape.’
There was a short silence. Lowe looked from Raphael to his brother, a glint of mischief in his eyes.
Putting one leg over his horse, Luca looked weary, exasperated. He nodded curtly at both boys before turning the mare round.
‘Try and be happy,’ Lowe called after him as he cantered away. ‘No one wants a misery for a husband.’
The horse and rider sped up. As Lowe and Raphael watched, Luca thundered across the field, his back hunched, as though he couldn’t get away fast enough.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
‘You want more?’ Mum hovered over me with a dish of apple crumble.
‘No thanks, I’m full.’ I pushed my bowl away from me, wondering how to tell my parents that I was disappearing off for a ‘field trip’ this weekend. Apart from Paris with Gran, I hadn’t been anywhere by myself in years. Not with friends anyway. My mother was bound to smell a rat. And she’d want to know every detail.
‘Er … Mum, I forgot to tell you. Completely forgot. I’m going on a college trip this weekend.’
Mum passed Dad the jug of custard.
‘This weekend? Where? Why didn’t you tell us before?’ Her look was suspicious.
‘I’m sorry. It just went right out of my mind. It’s only till Sunday afternoon. To London.’
‘Well, where are you staying? Who’s taking you?’ She clasped her hands together anxiously.
&
nbsp; ‘Mr Balzac – the Art teacher. He’s taking us … to the Tate Modern, and the National Gallery … There’s a Rothko exhibition on at the Tate. And we’re seeing the old masters at the National.’ I relaxed a little. Not bad, since it came off the top of my head.
‘Right.’ She glanced at my father, who was chewing on a mouthful of crumble. ‘What do you think, Jack?’
He finished chewing and raised an eyebrow. ‘I think it sounds fun,’ he said, ‘don’t you?’
‘Well. Yes … of course, it’s just—’
‘Anna. Jane will be fine. This teacher … Mr Balzac. He’ll be supervising them. It’ll be fine.’
‘Well. OK.’ Mum relaxed a little. ‘I’m glad I got you that phone now, though.’
‘Is your boyfriend going to be there?’ Dot licked her spoon.
‘What are you talking about?’ I said wearily.
‘You must have a boyfriend, right? At college?’
‘Must I?’ I glared at her.
‘You don’t?’
‘No. I don’t!’ I got up from the table. ‘And I’m not going to have a boyfriend for a long time. But when I do … you’ll be the first to know about it.’ I gave her a sugary smile.
She stuck her tongue out and dropped her spoon in her bowl.
Dad hid a smile, while Mum shook her head and started gathering up the bowls.
‘What time are you leaving in the morning?’ she asked. ‘Dad can give you a lift.’
‘Early … about eight.’ I turned to Dad. ‘But it’s OK. Mr Balzac is picking me up at the bottom of the track.’
Mum flapped out a drying-up cloth. ‘Well one of us will walk down with you. I want to make sure this Mr Balzac actually exists.’
‘Mum,’ I laughed, ‘why would I lie?’
She narrowed her eyes. ‘Why indeed?’
It was my turn to shake my head. ‘It’s a History of Art field trip—’
‘Of course it is.’ Dad whipped the cloth from my mother and pushed her towards the doorway. ‘You and your sister can do the dishes while I pour your mother a nice calming glass of wine.’
‘Jack … I’m perfectly calm,’ said Mum. ‘But I’ll take the glass of wine. You’ – she pointed at me – ‘make sure you get enough sleep before tomorrow.’
‘I will,’ I said, knowing I would need more than a good night’s sleep to get me through the next couple of days.
‘It’s freezing,’ I said, walking up to Soren. ‘Where’s your car?’
‘I hate to break it to you, but we can’t actually get to Nissilum by car,’ he said, zipping up his leather jacket.
‘I know that,’ I said annoyed. ‘It’s just that it’s hardly even light yet. We have to go, now. My mother wanted to walk me down here … She doesn’t believe I’m meeting my teacher.’
‘Intelligent woman.’ Soren put both hands on my arms. Strangely, I felt a few degrees warmer.
‘Yeah, and she hasn’t forgotten what happened six months ago,’ I told him, ‘with Luca. She’s terrified I’ll get myself caught up in the whole thing again.’
‘Ah.’ Soren pulled a face. ‘Well, let’s hope all ends well, then.’
I could hardly believe it would end well. I blinked at Soren, diverting my inevitable train of thought.
‘Be strong. I will protect you,’ Soren told me softly. He held out his arms.
I moved towards him, smelling the leather from his coat. He held on to me, firmly, and I willed myself not to compare his touch to Luca’s. I emptied my mind of everything but the thought of Nissilum.
As a cuckoo called its early morning greeting, Soren pulled me closer to him and I let myself drift away.
Daylight hit me as I opened my eyes. I was lying on a bed, on the softest velvet bedspread, facing a large sash window, framed by dark brocade curtains. The floor was polished wood. On the wall either side of the window were two ancient-looking paintings: portraits of a man and a woman, both of whom looked familiar.
I turned over to stare up at the ceiling, remembering the sound of water, which had always been the first sound I heard in this place.
The door to the room opened and I jerked to face it.
‘Good morning, my dear!’ Vanya stood holding a cup of something steaming. ‘I have brought you some of my special birch tea.’
She ignored my dazed expression and placed the cup on a small wooden table at the side of the bed.
‘It’s not poisonous, if that’s what you’re worried about,’ she told me, and I could see she looked mildly offended.
‘No … I’m just a bit sleepy is all.’ I sat up and yawned, realising I was, actually, still sleepy.
Vanya pushed the curtains back and tied them.
‘I hope you’ll be comfortable with us. Feel free to come and go whenever you like.’ She cocked her head and a slow, vaguely sinister smile crept across her face. ‘Of course, Valdar and I are not out and about during the daytime so much …’
‘Vanya,’ I said, hugging my knees, ‘what am I doing here?’
‘Oh now, dear, don’t be anxious,’ she cooed. ‘I’d forgotten how mortal women make themselves … such victims.’
‘Harsh,’ I said, raising an eyebrow.
‘I tell it as I see it.’ She perched on the side of the bed. ‘Don’t be so sensitive.’ ‘So, what would you do?’
Vanya drew a swathe of black hair away from her face.
‘I would not let another woman have my man,’ she said imperiously. ‘No way.’
‘At any cost?’ I asked her, plucking at the bedspread.
There was a short pause, then Vanya sighed lavishly.
‘Believe it or not, child, I am a romantic. A passionate woman. If anybody tried to take Valdar from me … well … let’s just say there would be bloodshed. I believe you should fight for what you want. To the death.’
I started. ‘Well, I’m not planning on killing anybody, Vanya—’
‘No … of course you’re not. You have the mortal code. The sanctity of life. The mortals are the originators of that theory, and occasionally I curse it.’ She sighed, then leaned forward. ‘I mean, it would be so much simpler if I made you … you know. Then that dreary spiel about committing murder you mortals crow on about would become meaningless.’
I leaned backwards, away from her.
‘No chance,’ I said. ‘If Luca won’t come to me through his free will, then that’s it. I will forget him.’
She stared at me. ‘Sweetness, you will never forget. He will sink to the bottom of your heart perhaps … like a forgotten shipwreck. But he will never go away.’
Her words sent a shiver down my spine. A cold, sad shiver. I knew she was right. I would never forget.
‘As it happens, I have chosen to live on Nissilum because it offers respite from the scavenging vampires experience, which I never cared for. Too messy …’ She tried to smile reassuringly at me, something that obviously didn’t come easily to her. But the thought was there.
‘Where’s Soren?’ I picked up the cup on the table beside me and peered into it.
‘Sleeping … I think.’ Vanya moved gracefully up off the bed. She took the cup out of my hands. ‘Don’t force yourself.’ She smiled widely, her teeth, perfect like Soren’s, seemed almost to blind me.
I suddenly noticed what I was wearing. An old-fashioned white nightdress. It was a little big for me and it looked really old. The delicate lace at the neck was on its last legs.
‘You look so sweet, dear.’ Vanya craned to look. ‘Irresistible.’
I tugged the nightdress further up my neck in a protective, chaste gesture.
‘Don’t even think about it,’ I told her.
She smiled, amused. ‘If I were that boy of yours I wouldn’t think twice,’ she said. ‘You really must realise your power.’
I stared open-mouthed at her graceful figure as she moved towards the door.
‘Bedtime for me,’ she said softly. ‘I will see you at dinner.’
‘First we will take a walk
into the town,’ said Soren, pushing up the arms of his white T-shirt. ‘I can show you around.’
‘What about Luca?’ I hissed. ‘What if he sees us?’
‘That’s the point, isn’t it?’ He took a gulp of water.
‘But not yet,’ I said. ‘Don’t we have to formulate a plan first?’
Soren’s black eyes slid over to mine. ‘Formulate a plan?’ he repeated. ‘Well … no, I don’t think so. No plan. Just act natural.’
‘But—’
‘You want Luca to want you again? You want him to look at you and feel an ache inside. Longing. Regret?’
I shifted uncomfortably. ‘I guess, but—’
‘So, you behave as though everything is normal.’
‘Luca will know I am just trying to make him jealous. He’ll see right through it.’
‘You underestimate the allure of Soren Balzac,’ he said seriously. Lifting his head, he gave me a long, undeniably alluring look.
I shook my head, embarrassed, trying to stop the now familiar colour creeping into my face.
‘Besides, we won’t see him.’ Soren stood and stretched. ‘He’ll be busy helping his mother with the chores … or something like that. Not idling around the local shops.’
‘You make him sound like such a square,’ I said crossly. ‘He’s just good.’
‘I know,’ Soren said more gently, putting his hand on my back. ‘I was simply trying to reassure you.’
Vanya’s house was at a small distance from the main town. Strangely she lived in what Soren called the Celestial village – a cluster of grand houses where the leaders of various dynasties lived. A wide cobbled road ran down a slope to the main town, where more lowly families resided. It was the first time I had seen this side of Nissilum properly and the sight of people going about their daily business.
‘It’s like a posh village,’ I said to Soren. ‘A traditional country village.’
‘Twee.’ Soren sniffed. ‘Not really my style. I would go insane cooped up in a place like this for ever.’
I glanced at him. I knew I would too. I felt a ripple of disloyalty to Luca.
‘It is where they come to … retire,’ he said.
‘Who?’
‘Vampires … werewolves …’ He shrugged. ‘It is where they have given up.’