by Tayte, Megan
As we walked, we kept up an easy conversation. Evangeline told me about her new project creating a sensory room for the babies on the island. I told her about Luke’s cafe opening and the many positive reviews that had run in local newspapers this week.
Evangeline walked slowly and leaned on me a little for support, but she was in good spirits, clearly delighted by my impromptu visit. I almost felt guilty for the turn in conversation I knew I’d be executing soon, and how that would change the mood between us. But I knew that even if Evangeline was prepared to withhold the truth in order to protect me, I wouldn’t do the same for her. I couldn’t.
We’d taken the path up the hill behind the hotel that led south. In my time here I’d come to know the island well – not difficult given its size – but I’d always avoided the small fenced-off field at the southernmost tip. It soon became apparent, though, that it was our destination today.
As we entered through a creaky wooden gate, we fell silent and slowed so that we could look at each grave marker in turn. There were no great slabs here, no grand monuments, just simple stone crosses, each inscribed with a single name.
Evangeline settled on a bench in front of markers for a Saul and a Noah and a John, and I sat next to her.
‘No dates?’ I asked.
‘No dates,’ she said. ‘Because we don’t believe how long you have in this world is of significance – all who exist are equal; it is the person we remember, not their life span.’ She gestured vaguely. ‘A tiny baby who’s taken by God is just as important as a man who’s lived many decades.’
‘A baby?’ I looked at the markers. ‘Here? I thought Cerulean babies couldn’t die?’
‘It’s rare,’ she said. ‘But it happens.’
I thought of my time in the treehouse with Luke and had to fight a dark wave of fear.
‘This is where I come,’ said Evangeline. ‘It’s my thinking place, I suppose you could say. I’ve been coming here since the early days of being on the island. But especially since...’ She pointed at a cross before us. ‘I thought, perhaps, given that you’ve been so interested in family, you’d like to know where your great-grandfather is buried.’
I stared at the name on the marker: John.
‘He was a good man, Scarlett. Some didn’t understand him: he wasn’t a man disposed to humour, and he was unforgiving in his beliefs. But his heart was pure and good, and he was a wonderful partner to me.’
I looked at her and saw moisture glinting in her lashes.
‘You must miss him,’ I said.
‘Of course. But I have Nathaniel now, and he’s a good man too. And in any case, I don’t think it will be that long until I’m reunited with all those who’ve passed on.’
She fixed her eyes on the graves and I let my gaze wander to the sea beyond. The day was cloudy and the water was a dismal grey.
‘Evangeline,’ I said. ‘I’m here for a reason.’
I turned back to look at her and found she’d been watching me, her expression resigned. ‘I thought as much. So tell me, Scarlett – what do you need from me today?’
‘The truth about my father.’
This time she didn’t manage to contain her reaction – I saw the flicker in her eyes. I ploughed on:
‘I know Hugo isn’t my father, or Sienna’s. I know our father is a Cerulean. I know he is a Fallen Cerulean. I know he is Gabriel.’
The change in Evangeline’s colour so alarmed me that without thinking I put my hands on hers and let my healing light flood into her.
But she brushed me away. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Stop.’
Evangeline focused on my great-grandfather’s grave and breathed deeply. It was a minute before she spoke, and when she did she seemed to have recovered her composure, though I saw that her hands, in her lap, still trembled.
‘Scarlett,’ she said, ‘you have to know that the burden of keeping this from you is not one I’ve carried lightly. I believe in honesty. I do. But with Elizabeth having made a new life for herself and put the past behind her, I didn’t feel it was my place to tell you of your real father. And if I had, I knew how it would hurt you. Your father, your sister – I wished to spare you from the pain I see in your eyes right now. You have every right to be angry with me, but please know that everything I do, it is to protect the good.’
‘I’m not angry,’ I told her. ‘I’ve kept enough truths hidden myself this past year to protect people. But while Sienna made it clear she wants nothing to do with me, Gabriel seems to want to talk, and –’
‘Stay!’ she implored. ‘The only way to be safe is to stay here, on the island. He won’t come here. He hasn’t been here since the day I told him to leave. And if he did, there are enough of us to stand between you and him.’
‘You know I can’t stay here. Not forever. And I’m not going to run from him. He can’t hurt me. If he tries, I can just Travel.’
‘I don’t expect him to hurt you physically. You’re his daughter, and I’m sure in his twisted heart that means something. It’s his words that worry me – how he can manipulate.’
Her lip curled on that word, manipulate. As if it were something she would never dream of doing. I didn’t challenge her, though; I played along.
‘Then tell me about him,’ I said. ‘Please, tell me about my family. So that I know the truth and I can stand firm against his lies.’
She stared at me, and I wondered for a moment whether she saw through me – saw that I too could manipulate. But then she nodded and said:
‘You’re right, and I will tell you. Before I do, though, you must promise me this, Scarlett: you will be careful with that man. Whatever he says, however he seems to you, however much you may yearn for a father in your life, he’s done many wicked, unforgiveable things.’ She looked again at the grave markers. ‘He has sinned,’ she said.
‘I’ll be careful,’ I promised her.
And in a grassy field devoted to remembrances of those loved and lost, she told me of a man named Gabriel.
29: ELIZABETH AND GABRIEL
May, 1994. In the sleepy village of Twycombe, Devon, a girl met a boy.
The girl, Elizabeth, was seventeen, the only daughter of a couple who’d lived alone on the west cliff all of her life.
The boy, Gabriel, was nineteen, a newcomer to the cove, just passing through. A Cerulean.
The two fell in love. But they had only a little time in the sweet flush of romance before their relationship was discovered.
Elizabeth’s father, Peter, was furious. He would not let his daughter, human, be with a Cerulean. He knew the consequences of that.
Evangeline and John were similarly disturbed, and they instructed Gabriel to leave the girl alone.
But the more their elders tried to pull them apart, the more Gabriel and Elizabeth held on to each other.
Until Gabriel crossed a line.
He had always been a challenging Cerulean to shape. Spirited. Wilful. Opinionated. But the tattoo on his arm read Serviam – I will serve – and he did. He was obedient. There was no way anyone could have known what was building inside him.
One day, he just snapped. In a single incident, he shed his innocence. He took a life and he restored a life – he committed murder and he resurrected the dead.
When it was done, he returned to the island. He stood before Evangeline and John, dripping blood from the wounds his sins had ripped open. He was remorseless, blazing with vindication that he had done right.
Gabriel was Outcast. No longer a Cerulean. He was told to leave the island, to leave Twycombe, and never come back.
He left the island. He left Twycombe. But not alone: he took with him the innocent young girl who worshipped him blindly.
Peter and Alice were beside themselves at the disappearance of their daughter. They searched all over for her. The Ceruleans searched all over for her. But there was no trace.
And then, the following year, Gabriel and Elizabeth returned to the cottage on the cliff. Elizabeth begged for forgiv
eness and a chance to be a family, and Peter and Alice took one look at the tiny baby girl in Gabriel’s arms and melted.
Peter arranged for the young family to live in the vicarage of St Mary’s: the perfect setting for Gabriel to work for redemption. But Gabriel did no such thing. In his time away from Elizabeth, which was ever more frequent and prolonged, he was no longer healing – he was taking lives.
The family was a ticking time bomb, but to everyone’s surprise it was Elizabeth – the only one who was oblivious to the true severity of the situation – who pressed the detonator. One day, tired of her partner’s constant abandonment, she left him. She took a train to London with nothing but a pram and a suitcase.
Gabriel left Twycombe the same day. He didn’t come back, but his actions, and those of the Ceruleans who eventually joined him, ensured he was never forgotten.
Elizabeth did come back to Twycombe, but not for several years. When she did, it was with a husband on her arm and two little girls so close you’d have thought them twins.
30: TITANIUM
When I left the island that evening, I Travelled directly to Luke’s roof terrace, where he’d told Jude he would meet me. I found him standing at the glass barrier and looking out at clouds tinged pink by the setting sun. He didn’t hear me approach, and when I went to slide my arms around him he jumped at the contact.
‘It’s only me,’ I said quickly, hands up, as he spun around.
‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I’ve been on edge all day. Come here –’
We collided in a hug and squeezed hard enough to hurt. For a long time we stayed that way, neither of us moving, slowly casting off all the horror and fear of the night before. It was me who broke away. I gestured to a pair of chairs on the terrace and we sat, face to face, knee to knee, hand in hand.
‘How’s Grannie?’ I asked first.
‘Fine,’ he said. ‘They found a room for her at another home. It’s a little further from here, but her room’s nicer – bigger and with a sea view. She’s actually on really good form. I think all the adventure and company perked her up. Though she keeps telling everyone about blue angels, so the staff think she’s off in the clouds.’
‘And Cara?’
‘Shaken. Last night brought back some difficult memories. She’ll be fine, though. She and Chester are staying at Si’s; he’ll get Cara through it.’
‘And are you okay?’
‘I am now you’re home. I had nightmares about you in that fire.’
‘But I’m all right. You know that.’
‘How can you be? I mean, the fire, Gabriel…’
I shrugged. ‘I wasn’t okay. I didn’t sleep well either. But this morning I felt calmer. The island helps, I think. It’s like taking a break from the real world there. Or maybe it’s just that after all this time, I’m getting better at moving on after a drama.’
Luke frowned. ‘It shouldn’t be that way. You shouldn’t be getting hardened to painful shocks. You shouldn’t keep getting swept up in dramas.’
‘Sorry,’ I said at once.
‘For what?’
‘All the dramas.’
‘Well, they’re hardly your fault, are they?’
And yet I felt guilty. I was the Cerulean. I was the one with a seriously dysfunctional family. Luke was just a regular guy who wanted to lead a regular life.
‘So how did it go with Evangeline?’ he said. ‘Did she tell you…?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you believe her?’
‘Yes.’
Silence, and then:
‘If you don’t want to talk about it now, I understand.’
‘Do you want me to talk about it?’
He looked confused. ‘Of course, Scarlett. You know you can talk to me – about anything.’
Anything. Like what we’d done yesterday in that treehouse. Like what our being intimate could create.
Suddenly, I was happy to talk – about Evangeline, about the island, about my parents. The story tumbled out of me, clumsy and nowhere near as poetic as Evangeline’s version had been.
‘... and then off he went to build an army of killers like him,’ I finished.
I waited for Luke’s reaction. When it came, it made me smile:
‘Blimey. So that’s your father’s story? He’s like Romeo meets Darth Vader.’
‘But Gabriel missed the “I am your father” line,’ I pointed out. ‘And trying to tempt me to the Dark Side.’
‘No wonder your mum left and never told you about him, Scarlett.’
‘Though from her point of view, his only crime was being absent – she can’t have known what he was, what he is.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘I’m sure. She doesn’t know about the Ceruleans. Otherwise she’d have protected me and Sienna.’
Luke nodded. ‘I guess that makes sense. So the way your mum sees it, she fell in love with Gabriel, ran off with him when her parents tried to split them up, felt increasingly let down by him and, finally, left him.’
‘And somewhere in the middle, they decided to come back to the cove.’
‘Why?’
‘No idea. But at least I know now why my grandfather was so “het up”, as Grannie put it. It must have been his worst nightmare – his daughter falling in love with a Cerulean.’
‘I don’t know,’ said Luke, arching an eyebrow. ‘It’s not so bad being in love with a Cerulean.’
‘Maybe. But I’m a good-guy Cerulean – not a bad’un, like him.’
He stiffened and his smile vanished. ‘Scarlett, you joke about it – but this is serious. Your father is lurking about. You know he’s dangerous. You know somehow your sister did get tempted to the “Dark Side” – to being a “bad’un”. What if he gets to you?’
I rolled my eyes. ‘You and Jude have been talking. You sound just like him.’
‘I’m just worried about you. About him. I don’t want you near that man.’
‘If he wants to come and talk to me, Luke, no one can stop that.’
‘You can’t stop him coming, maybe, but you can stop him talking. The minute he opens his mouth, you tell him where to go. Shut him down.’
‘I won’t be doing that. I want to hear what he has to say.’
‘What? Why? You don’t owe that man anything!’
‘No, I don’t. But he owes me a great deal.’
‘You want him to make it up to you? You want him to build a relationship with you?’
‘No. Of course not.’
‘So why do you want to hear a word out of his lying lips?!’
Luke was dangerously close to shouting, and that was pushing me dangerously close to tears. I shook off his hands and stood up and moved back, putting a little distance between us.
‘Because he’s kept away from me for eighteen years,’ I said, ‘and the fact he’s found me now means he has something to say. Something important. And given the fact that he’s corrupted my sister and devastated my mother and ignored me for a lifetime, I have some things to say to him too.’
‘But there, what you just said – he corrupted Sienna. What if he can corrupt you?’
‘Nice, Luke,’ I snapped back. ‘You love me but you have zero faith in me.’ The first tears fell and I scrubbed them away with my fists. ‘You know me,’ I said, ‘you know me, and you think I have it in me to turn into one of them – you think I could kill!’
‘No!’ He sprang to his feet and gripped my shoulders hard. ‘No! Of course I don’t believe that of you. You’re good.’
I tried to get away from him; I was hurt and angry and I didn’t want him near me. But he pulled me to his chest and trapped me there.
‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I do have faith in you. I’m sorry.’
I held on to being hurt and angry for a few more rounds of ‘sorry’, and then the dam broke and I cried until his t-shirt was wet under my cheek.
Eventually, when I was quiet, he let me go. I walked to the edge of the terrace and focused
on the distant waves, darkening as they swallowed the sun.
Luke came to stand beside me. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said again.
‘It’s okay,’ I told him without looking at him. ‘I know you mean well. It’s just… it feels like we do this now. Fight. We didn’t used to.’
He put a hand over mine on the balustrade. ‘Maybe that’s true,’ he said. ‘Maybe at the start we didn’t. Back then, everything was so simple. The stuff we’re dealing with now – it’s hard, Scarlett. We’re bound to struggle sometimes. All that matters is that we make up in the end.’
‘But I don’t like fighting,’ I said. ‘Sienna was always ready for a row, even when we were tiny. And Mum and Hugo were constantly at it. Little snide comments. Bickering. Full-scale slanging matches. I used to hide when they really got into it. I could never stand it.’
‘My mum and dad used to fight too, you know,’ said Luke. ‘Not often, but when they did, you knew about it. Dad was the strong, silent type, and it drove Mum mad sometimes. She’d needle him but he never blew – she’d yell and he wouldn’t, and then she’d run out of steam. Eventually. Once, she didn’t come down until she’d thrown a bowl of cereal at him. I remember him sitting at the kitchen table, peeling cornflakes off his work shirt and asking Cara to pass the sugar, and then Mum cracked up, and so did he, and they were rolling about laughing together.’
I looked at Luke. He was smiling at the memory and I found it infectious.
‘Hurling food in a temper, eh?’ I teased gently. ‘Like mother like son.’
He laughed. ‘Yeah, Mum would totally have been looking down from heaven and egging me on as I threw dips at Jude.’
‘She didn’t mind rows then? And getting angry? My mum always fell apart afterwards – she’d be in such a state, even if the row was all her.’
‘My mum always said it was healthy to express anger, as long as you did it with respect for others.’
I raised an eyebrow. ‘And throwing cereal is respectful?’
‘No, even she had to admit she’d crossed a line there. But then she did have a thing about using cereal to vent.’