The Spell of Rosette

by Kim Falconer

‘When will I see you again?’ he’d asked, her hand slipping from his as she stepped into the portal.

  ‘When I delete the worm.’ She reached out, touching his face. ‘If not me, then my daughter.’

  Her hand fell away and she disappeared.

  Janis slipped off her gumboots and pulled open the screen door. The aroma wafting from the kitchen made her mouth water.

  ‘Luka?’ she called out, brushing wisps of hay from her jeans. ‘What’s cooking?’

  She washed her hands in the bathroom sink, pouring out half a cup of filtered water that went down the drain and into the recycling system. Drying her hands, she tilted her head.

  ‘Luka? Where are you? Is Ruby awake yet?’ she called again, her smile fading when she reached the kitchen.

  Two pots boiled on the stove, steam escaping from the lids. A half-empty tomato can lay on its side, spilling red liquid over the counter. It trickled down the front of the cupboard to the floor, where it pooled. Janis frowned as she turned off the flame. A breeze wafted in through the window, bringing with it the scent of the sea. Her nose wrinkled. It was becoming worse each day.

  ‘Ruby?’ she whispered, watching the clouds turn red in the evening sky. ‘Ruby,’ she called out louder.

  She reached her daughter’s bedroom, goose bumps rising at the back of her neck. The door was ajar.

  ‘Ruby, are you up?’

  The gauze curtains fluttered across the empty bed. A child’s robe lay crumpled on the floor. She stepped over it to reach the window, leaning out until she saw tiny, bare footprints in the mud below.

  ‘No!’ She spun around, darting down the hall. ‘Luka! Ruby’s gone!’

  She reached the front verandah and stopped short. He was there, standing motionless at the far edge of the deck. He stared straight at the horizon without shading his eyes against the setting sun.

  ‘Where is she?’ Janis asked.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘She’s looking for them,’ Janis whispered.

  ‘The Lupins are her kindred spirits.’ His shoulderblades tightened as he lifted his head towards the first stars. ‘They call to her.’

  ‘Damn your beasts.’

  ‘It’s not their fault.’

  ‘Nor is it hers.’ She stepped closer. ‘They share the same blood, and we can’t keep it hidden any longer. If ASSIST finds out about your experiments…’

  His lips pressed together, giving the slightest nod.

  ‘Luka, I know you don’t want to give them up, but they’ve got to go. Earth is no place for them.’

  ‘This is their home! I engineered them, brought them back from extinction.’

  ‘You brought back more than an extinct species. You created a new one. You used your own blood.’ She glared at him.

  ‘It was the only way.’

  ‘Maybe, but now it’s Ruby’s blood too.’

  He lowered his eyes. ‘They’ll be safe on Gaela?’

  ‘I’ll take them there myself.’

  ‘You can’t, Janis. ASSIST is watching. You’d be leading that blasted worm straight to JARROD.’

  ‘I’ll weave a glamour. They won’t see me or my tracks through the portal,’ she said. ‘The Lupins can settle in the catacombs under Los Loma. It’s a perfect territory for wolves.’

  ‘They’re more than wolves, Janis, just as we are more than human.’

  ‘You are,’ she said. ‘And Ruby. Not me.’

  ‘Janis, your DNA’s been altered too.’

  Her jaw tightened. ‘I didn’t ask for Lupin blood.’

  ‘It was the only template I had.’ He reached for her hand. ‘They’ll do no harm on Gaela.’

  ‘It’s unpredictable what they will do, Luka. Here or there, it’s a risk either way, as long as they exist.’

  ‘I’ll not have them destroyed.’

  ‘I know,’ she sighed. ‘Me either.’

  She cupped her hands around her mouth and called over the dunes for Ruby. Her voice sounded shrill, whisked away in the wind. ‘She sees them as siblings. Longs for their company. How will we explain it to her when they’re gone?’

  ‘We’ll find her and tell her together.’ He turned to meet her eyes. ‘Come with me.’

  ‘You’re going to shift?’ she asked.

  He looked back at the horizon. ‘I’m faster on four legs.’ His body gleamed in the low-angled light, muscles flexing as he lifted his arms above his head. ‘You can follow me, Janis. You can shift too.’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘You can.’

  Janis stepped back as the sun hit the horizon.

  ‘I won’t.’

  ‘Please,’ he said softly. ‘You’ll understand it if you do. You’ll understand us.’

  ‘No.’ She dropped to her knees, folding over until her face pressed into her thighs and her hair tumbled across the floorboards, deep red in the last light. ‘Go find Ruby. Bring her home.’

  Janis kept her eyes closed, not wanting to watch. She felt a rush of wind on the nape of her neck as the verandah rail creaked, the shock wave from his transformation washing over her. When she looked up, Luka was gone. A black-and-silver wolf tore off across the dunes, coursing for a scent.

  She stood, straining after him, her heart pounding.

  ‘Wait, Luka!’ she called. ‘I’ll help you look, but my way.’

  She turned towards the horse barn.

  The wolf paused, his ears pricked back. It’s okay, love.

  She heard Luka’s voice warm inside her head.

  I’ve already got her scent.

  ‘And the Lupins?’

  I’ll bring them back too.

  THE PRESENT GAELA

  CHAPTER 1

  Kalindi Rose ran through the open field, her boots springing over the close-cropped grass. She hitched up her skirt and climbed the stile, sprinting down the cobblestone drive to the manor house. The brood mares lifted their heads, nickering softly as she passed. Magpies in the surrounding oaks chortled, and a single raven swooped overhead, letting out a raucous caw.

  She took the front steps two at a time, her hand stretching towards the ceramic flowerpots. Her fingertips brushed the spring blossoms, red pansies with deep orange centres and yellow daffodils on tall green stems. She laughed, wiggling out of her backpack and tossing it onto the verandah swing-seat.

  ‘Mama? John’ra? Guess what!’ she called, grabbing for the brass latch.

  Her fingers never touched the handle. The door was ajar, slowly creaking open with a draught of wind. She stuck her foot forward, stopping it from banging into the wall.

  ‘Mama?’

  The sound of her voice disappeared amid the drone of cicadas coming from the cherry orchard. She frowned. No-one left the front doors open on the Matosh Estate. It wasn’t allowed.

  ‘Where is everyone?’ she whispered.

  Nothing moved except the rise and fall of her chest and the flutter of the wind through the dogwood trees. Suddenly the magpies took flight, the cicadas went silent. Light doused the verandah, the sunset shooting long red fingers into the empty foyer. As it dropped lower it disappeared, obscured by the inevitable fog bank that rolled in from the sea. It would be dark soon, the air moist and thick. Why had no-one seen to the lanterns?

  Kalindi willed her heartbeat to steady. Most likely her little brother, D’ran, would pop out from behind the door, all screams and hands like bear claws. Her mother would call for her to help with the lamps and set the table. Her father would arrive in a flurry, his horse lathered and fussed, the man roaring his discontent with some trade agreement or the price of beans. The dogs would rush up with their barks and wags of excitement.

  Any minute… She strained to catch a sound above her breathing as the sky turned purple, and Ishtar, the evening star, emerged.

  This is silly. She straightened her shoulders and forced a laugh. Everyone’s probably in the library, or out back. They can’t be far away.

  She stepped across the threshold. A draught rushed down the hall
to meet her, causing wisps of hair to tickle her face. She brushed them away with both hands, flipping her long plait behind her.

  No lanterns glowed. No candles burned on their wrought-iron stands. It was like a dream where things were familiar yet not quite right. Feeling her way along with one hand on the wall, she stopped at the first doorway and looked in. It was the library, usually the brightest place in the house. John’ra insisted the fire be kept going all night, even in the summer. He said it was for inspiration. The library was dark now, abandoned. No fire. No light. No inspiration.

  She stumbled into the reading table as she searched for a candle. Finding one, she struck a match, the sound tearing through the air. It flared up for a moment then died out as the wick caught flame.

  What was that? She froze.

  It might have been a nightjar in the pine trees, or footsteps on the front verandah. Whatever it was, it stopped short, along with her breath. She swallowed, fighting the dryness in her throat, listening hard for the sound again. When it didn’t return, she crept out of the library to search the rest of the house. Room by room she went, looking for her family and any hint of what had happened; and room by room she found nothing unusual except for the emptiness, and the dark.

  By the time she reached the kitchen she was shaking. What’s that smell? She held the light high over her head, peering in. The pantry shelves were full of jars—fruits and nuts, pasta and rice—all in their places. The spices sat in little wooden boxes, orderly and undisturbed, and the pots and pans hung in nested ranks above the stove, their copper bottoms glinting in the candlelight. She caught her reflection in one, and saw the others there too.

  The blood drained from her face. She’d found her family.

  Mama, John’ra, D’ran and two members of the household staff were laid out on the floor like freshly chopped wood. Glazed eyes stared at the ceiling and walls, necks at unusual angles, limbs askew. There were drag marks across the floor, leading out into the hall. Blood splattered their clothes, matting her mother’s hair and obscuring her face.

  Kalindi looked away, unable to shut her eyes. They came to rest on the sink as she backed up. The basin was filled with a dark liquid, steam rising from the surface.

  ‘Mama?’ Tears spilled down her face.

  A creaking on the verandah spun her around. It wasn’t a nightjar. Voices rose and fell, arguing in harsh, guttural sounds, like boots kicking gravel.

  She dropped the candle and raced blindly down the hall, her footfalls silent on the thick carpets. Pushing through the back screen door, she vaulted over the railing and tore down the path, leaping the garden fence without breaking stride. Staying low, she kept to the grassy edges of the walkways so her boots wouldn’t tap out a signalling here I am! Circling wide, she crawled under the paddock fence and into the fields that bordered the estate. She ran, fell down, scrambled up and ran again.

  She looked behind once. No light came from the house, its outline a black etch on the horizon, a dark shadow about to be swallowed up by the encroaching fog. The only sound she could hear came from the pigpens: distant grunts and squeals.

  She kept running, legs working hard and eyes wide open. Darkness blurred the landscape until she could distinguish only the glistening of the cobblestones in front of her. She followed the driveway, heart pounding.

  Kalindi had no plan. She couldn’t think to make one. Her pace slowed as she reached the entrance gate—the wrought-iron pillar cold to the touch. No-one was coming, at least not anyone with a light. Hesitating for only a second, she let her hand slide off the post and dashed out of the estate.

  Her pace quickened as the road sloped down to the densely treed valley. She couldn’t see it, but she knew it was there, a dark outline against a deeper darkness—the forest of Espiro Dell Ray. If she could get to those trees that guarded the borders, she could disappear. She would be safe.

  ‘Assalo!’

  She stopped suddenly, feeling the vibration of hoofbeats pounding up the paddock. They reverberated through the ground and up her legs as the tall black horse appeared. He halted above her, pressing his chest into the fence, soft wickers blowing from his nostrils.

  ‘It’s all right, Assalo,’ she whispered. ‘I’ll get you out of here, but we have to be quick and we have to be silent.’

  The horse pawed the ground, churning up grass and dirt, his four white socks bright in the early night.

  Kalindi Rose climbed up the embankment and stroked Assalo’s neck, flipping strands of his long black mane over to the other side of his crest. He lowered his head, pushing it between the rails to smell her boots before nipping at her bare legs. She pressed her cheek against his shoulder and took a deep breath.

  ‘Come on,’ she said, pushing off from him and sliding down the embankment. She hit the road running. ‘To the gate. Follow.’

  He trotted along the fenceline above her until a whizzing sound cut through the air. They were firing at Assalo! She dropped to the ground when she heard the thud of an arrow finding its mark. She scrambled up and ran, choking on the bile in her throat.

  Assalo screamed so loudly, she couldn’t hear her boots crunching on the gravel, or the involuntary gasps coming out as she sucked in the air between cries. His agony reverberated into the night, drowning out every other noise, drowning out her thoughts.

  She reached the edge of Espiro Dell Ray, her lungs burning and her face streaked with tears. She didn’t stop. She plunged into the forest, keeping to the edge of the main road. By the time it had dwindled into a narrow track, she couldn’t hear Assalo any more. She couldn’t see anything through her tears.

  After an hour of feeling her way in the dark tangle of branches, vines and dead wood, she stumbled into a hollowed-out redwood trunk. With her hand on the mossy bark, she steadied her breath, checking for the presence of other creatures. It felt vacant. She crawled through the opening, pressing herself against the back wall and bringing her knees up to her chin. She sat there staring into the night, listening.

  Crickets hummed and wings flapped. A nighthawk called from far away, answered by an even more distant cry. No one followed.

  After another hour of listening, she dug into the leaf mould and curled up, sobbing herself to sleep.

  ‘You made a right mess of this,’ Archer growled, bending to grab the dead man’s hands. He started to drag the body out of the kitchen. ‘Get his legs.’

  Rogg gripped the ankles, hoisting the other half of the corpse. ‘I didn’t start it, Arch.’ He nodded to the body. ‘This bugger did.’

  ‘She said to get the vial and not hurt ’em—any of ’em.’

  Rogg laughed. ‘He ain’t hurting now. Besides, that other witch didn’t care.’

  ‘Idiot.’ Archer glared as he backed down the hallway. ‘That other one had her own purpose. It’s the High Priestess who’s got the gold. What if she won’t pay us now?’

  ‘Didn’t think of that.’ Rogg stared blankly at Archer as he manoeuvred the body through the front door frame. He frowned. ‘What if she curses us?’

  ‘She won’t.’

  ‘She’s a witch.’

  ‘I can handle her.’

  ‘And our pay?’

  ‘We’ll get it.’ Archer winked as he lifted the body higher to keep the head from bumping down the front steps.

  ‘How?’

  ‘We’ll trick her.’

  Rogg didn’t respond immediately. He dropped one of the booted feet to scratch his matted hair. ‘Can you trick a witch?’

  ‘She’s only a woman, Rogg.’

  ‘I don’t know about that.’

  Archer ignored him, his face twisting into a smile. ‘She said, “I need the blood of the witch-child”.’

  ‘What’s that mean?’

  ‘Shut up. I’m thinking.’

  Archer stopped in front of the pigsty. The animals were grunting, pressing their snouts against the low wooden fence.

  ‘She wants the blood. Said so right to me face.’ He started swinging the
corpse, nodding to Rogg to do the same. ‘We’ll bleed the lad before it sets. He must be the witch-child.’

  ‘But we can’t carry it.’

  ‘Get one of those kegs.’ Archer pointed at the barn. ‘They’re small enough to strap on your back.’

  Rogg didn’t answer. He was watching an enormous boar standing with his front feet on the top rail of the sty. His mouth opened as he squealed, saliva dripping from his lower jaw in long, translucent loops.

  ‘We’ll make it look like a blood-vengeance,’ Archer went on, the body gaining momentum as he spoke.

  On the third swing, they heaved it over the top rail and into the pigsty.

  ‘We sack the place? Turn it over real good?’ Rogg asked, his eyes brightening.

  ‘And take the blood of the witch-child.’

  ‘Then we get paid?’

  ‘Yeah. Then we get paid.’

  ‘And that other one? With the strange questions?’

  ‘She wanted them all dead anyway. We’re good.’ Archer spat before heading back to the house, the pig squeals turning into chomps.

  Kalindi awoke with a start, the events of the night flooding back to her before she opened her eyes. After taking a few deep breaths, she peeked out through the entrance of her sanctuary. Shafts of early-morning light illuminated the woods, turning everything gold.

  I’m still alive…thank you!

  She crawled out through the opening and stretched, scanning the dense terrain.

  Has anyone seen Jarrod?

  Her thoughts radiated out from her mind, filling the forest with her question along with her gratitude. She got a comforting response, an energy that made her feel safe. Jarrod must be in the area. He hunted here most mornings and she planned to find him quickly, before he went looking for her at the estate. He would help her figure out what to do next, and he would probably have news and something to eat. He might even be looking for her already. She let out several long whistles like the high-pitched cry of a red-tailed kite.

  After waiting, her head tilted to the side, she went in search of a drink. The creek was nearby, down a long descent just past the boulder grove. She could glimpse the pines that surrounded the huge rocks from where she stood. They weren’t far off.