Valentine

by Jodi McAlister

  She follows me into the small kitchenette. My hands are shaking as I put the kettle on and I pray she doesn’t notice and realise that I know. ‘Um, when did you and Shad get in last night?’ I say, clutching at the first thing that comes into my mind.

  ‘Oooh, it was a late one,’ she says. ‘It’s very hard going out with someone nocturnal sometimes.’

  ‘What did you do with George? While you were out, I mean.’

  ‘Oh, he was happy enough, roaming around the house,’ she says lightly.

  ‘Our house?’

  ‘Yes.’

  OMG, George the evil cat was in my house. Thank God I stayed at Finn’s last night. THANK GOD.

  ‘This is super awkward, but it’d be kind of excellent if you didn’t bring him around,’ I say carefully, handing her a cup of tea. ‘I’m so allergic to them – cats, I mean. It’s not pretty.’

  ‘Of course, Miss Pearlie,’ she says. She puts a hand on my shoulder and it makes my skin crawl. ‘I had no idea.’

  We go back out and sit on the couch. I curse Viv for being so slow with her photography stuff. My phone buzzes again. Please let that just be Finn being worried about me and not someone telling me that Julian has dismembered Phil or something.

  ‘So did you know the boy that’s gone missing?’ Helena asks. ‘James Cardigan?’

  ‘Yes,’ I say. ‘Really well. We’ve been on school committees and stuff together for, like, ever, and we’re good friends, and –’ I have a sudden flashback to the argument Disey and Helena had right before I went into the coma. ‘I’m not really comfortable talking about this,’ I say.

  ‘Oh, of course, darling,’ Helena says.

  I bite my lip. Knowledge is power, Pearl. Knowledge is leverage. Turn this to your advantage. ‘Let’s not talk about Cardy,’ I say. ‘It’s too sad. How about . . . let’s talk about what you and Shad did last night. Where did you go?’

  ‘Oh!’ she says, cheeks colouring. ‘We . . .’

  ‘Yes?’ I prompt.

  ‘Well, we had a little wine,’ she says, ‘and we decided to try out a new place.’

  ‘Where was that?’

  ‘You know the Haylesford Hotel? Well, apparently on Friday and Saturday nights it turns into a nightclub, and –’

  ‘I didn’t know you were the nightclub type,’ I say.

  ‘Oh, I’m not,’ she says. ‘But we just wanted to see what it was like – see what we could see, you know. So we went there. And we had a good laugh.’

  Busted.

  Any sane adult would have lied to me about where they were last night rather than admitting they were in a seedy pub slash heinous nightclub – especially one from which one of my best friends apparently got kidnapped. But Helena didn’t.

  Or couldn’t.

  J’accuse.

  Later that night, after Helena has thankfully not worked out that I’ve worked out she might be evil and killed me, I sit down at my laptop to compile a Hellbeast dossier.

  But compiling a dossier is harder than it sounds. I stare at a blank Word document for ages. The only things coming into my mind are doesn’t lie and adopts evil cats and occasionally attempts to extort information from me, but they look stupid whenever I write them down. And what kind of evidence is that to go on, really?

  I try to match up what I know of Helena against the lists of fairy characteristics Finn and I have managed to put together, but I can’t seem to think properly. I can’t focus. My brain feels like jelly. And I can’t blame this on some fairy messing with my mind. This is just plain old exhaustion. I think.

  Maybe it’s emotion, though. Cardy’s face swims through my mind.

  Evil or eaten. I can’t work out which option is worse.

  ‘This is not your fault, Pearl,’ I mutter to myself. ‘This is not your fault.’

  You just keep telling yourself that, a little voice inside me whispers. It doesn’t make it true.

  Shut up, I order it.

  My phone buzzes. I have a friend request from Facebook.

  It’s Kel Greene. Now there’s someone I haven’t thought about in awhile. I accept. I should pop into the pool and say hello. That’d probably annoy Jenny. Ha.

  Jenny. Jenny who frantically called Finn and probably everyone else she knew today because her boyfriend is missing. God, I’m such a heartless bitch.

  I scroll through Facebook. Hope Cardy is safe. Praying 4 Cardy. Devastated. Finn’s status says, Don’t understand anything.

  He was so panicked when I finally texted him back today. I’m going to have to work out how to manage his kamikaze knight-in-shining-armour impulses if we’re seriously going to get anywhere with this defeating evil business.

  I put down my phone and stare at my blank Word document some more. When my eyes start to blur and I still haven’t written anything down I figure it’s time to abandon it as a lost cause. You need sleep to save the world, I tell myself. It feels a lot like an excuse, but I’m too tired to care.

  I switch off my bedside lamp, then turn to close my curtains. And freeze.

  The man with the smile of a shark stares back at me, grinning, on the other side of the glass.

  He is the same, and yet different. He is still tall and lean with a smile that would make dentists weep, but now everything about him has been exaggerated, sharpened, perfected. He is beautiful, so beautiful it hurts to look at him. Green weed is tangled in his dark hair. His teeth are pointed. Blood trickles from his perfect lips.

  His eyes bore into mine. I feel like I’ve been turned into stone, completely incapable of movement. Slowly, he raises his left hand. My breath is coming in short, quick little gasps.

  Gore runs down his arm. But the heart in his hand will no longer pulse blood.

  I watch, mesmerised, as he runs his tongue over his bloody teeth, first the top, and then the bottom. He raises the heart to his mouth. He looks straight into my eyes as he licks the blood from his hand.

  What it must feel like, to have those lips on your skin, to have those sharp shark teeth penetrate your flesh . . . to have those long fingers caressing your body before his sharp finger­nails slip effortlessly beneath your skin and peel it away, to be in his arms as you dived into a deep, black, bottomless ocean . . .

  He raises his right hand towards me. Come, he beckons, resting it against the glass.

  I have no choice but to obey.

  My feet move as if of their own accord. One step, then another, and another, and we are almost face to face, only a narrow pane of glass between us. Pearl Linford, I hear him say, in my mind rather than with my ears, you are mine.

  I am his.

  I raise my left hand and place it on the glass against his. One cold sheet is all that is between his skin and mine, and my skin is only a thin membrane, which, once torn away, will release all the red, red blood within . . .

  Open the window.

  No. I can’t. I shouldn’t.

  Open it.

  But my hand is moving.

  Open the window, Pearl.

  I see his face as clearly as if it were before me, his arm around his beaming brother. I see them in their front yard, kicking round a soccer ball. I see him that night in the police station as his mother threw her arms around him.

  Come to me, Pearl.

  Come on, Linford, I thought you were tougher than this.

  ‘No!’ I say, and pull the curtains shut.

  I dive into bed and pull the covers over my head. My heart is beating so fast I think it might explode.

  Heart. The heart – oh my God. Cardy.

  I have an overwhelming urge to vomit, but I’m too scared to move a muscle. If I move, he’ll be there. And he’ll get me. He’ll – he’ll –

  I can’t even think about it – about his sharp teeth and his fingernails and the blood – the blood –

  Oh God. Oh God oh God oh God oh God.

  This is what got Marie. And now Cardy. And he wants me. And he’s right outside my window.

  It’s okay. It’s
okay. He can’t get in. If he could get in, he wouldn’t have tried to make me open the window. I’m safe. I’m safe.

  All that stands between me and him is a pane of glass and my doona. Oh God. Oh God.

  I have to tell Finn – no, he’d come rushing over here immediately and we’d both get slaughtered and the sharktooth man would have the full set of Valentine hearts tomorrow. I have to do nothing. If I close my eyes, maybe this will all go away . . .

  OH MY GOD, SOMEONE IS OPENING MY WINDOW.

  I scramble frantically on my bedside table. My fingers wrap around a pair of nail scissors. A pathetic weapon, but it’s all I have. I clutch them tightly.

  In the dim light, I see a shadowy figure climbing through my window. There’s a thump as their feet hit the floor.

  I turn on the light.

  But it’s not the sharktooth man.

  ‘Julian Bishop,’ I say from between my teeth, ‘what the hell do you think you’re doing in my bedroom?’

  He freezes.

  I look at Julian. Julian looks at me.

  ‘Pearl,’ he says at last.

  ‘Is this the part where you say “I can explain”?’ I snarl, clutching my nail scissors so tightly my knuckles turn white. ‘Because I’d start explaining. Right now.’

  This is not the Julian I’m used to seeing. This is not the Julian I’ve gone to school with since I was five, the Julian that grins and wraps his arms around Phil as they rub noses. This Julian’s reddish-brown hair is wild, sticking up in all directions. There is a crazed look in his eyes, like an animal that knows he’s been cornered.

  ‘Start explaining,’ I say. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing in my house?’

  ‘I – um – Phil left something here, and –’

  ‘Don’t even think about lying to me,’ I snap. The knot in my stomach unloosens a little and I grow in confidence. He’s lying. He’s definitely human. I know I can walk all over human Julian. ‘I’m not an idiot. I know you’ve been in here before. With Holly. I know you two tied me to the bed with my hair and I know you wrote that message on my mirror. So spill. What are you doing?’

  He shakes his head. ‘I can’t tell you.’

  ‘Yes, you can. And you’re going to. Right now.’

  ‘I can’t,’ he says. ‘They’ll punish me.’

  ‘I’ll punish you worse.’

  That draws a laugh from him, a dark, humourless laugh. ‘No, you won’t, Pearl,’ he says. ‘You have no idea what They’re capable of.’

  ‘So enlighten me,’ I say. ‘Fill me in.’

  The look he casts me is full of pure hatred. ‘Like you can’t just force it out of me,’ he says bitterly.

  What – oh. He thinks I’m the long-lost magic-changeling-wizard-ninja-child. He thinks I have Finn’s powers. Is that really something Finn could do?

  Julian wraps his arms around himself. He’s wearing pyjamas and he’s splattered with mud, like he walked straight from his bed to my window. His teeth are chattering.

  I sigh. ‘Here,’ I say, tossing a blanket from the end of my bed at him. ‘You look like you’re about to keel over with hypothermia.’

  The blanket falls to the floor. He just looks at it.

  ‘It won’t hurt you,’ I say. ‘It’s just a blanket, Julian. And – and I can’t lie, remember?’

  He casts a long, suspicious look at me, but he picks up the blanket and wraps it around his shoulders. ‘Thanks,’ he says shortly.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ I say. ‘How about you repay me in answers?’

  ‘I can’t,’ he says, gritting his teeth.

  ‘Look, either They don’t know I’ve caught you sneaking in here or They do,’ I say. ‘If They don’t, I’m not going to tell Them. And if They do, you’re already in trouble. So what do you have to lose?’

  ‘I can’t risk it,’ he says. ‘You don’t know what They do to people who let them down.’

  ‘Forgive me if I don’t care,’ I say tightly, ‘as They’ve been trying to kill me.’

  He laughs that humourless laugh again. ‘They’re not trying to kill you, Pearl. Haven’t you worked that out by now?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Why do you think we’ve been trying to keep you inside?’ he says. ‘They want to keep you safe.’

  They want to keep me – oh FFS.

  ‘And I’m safe inside my house,’ I say. ‘But . . . only inside my house?’

  ‘They’re . . .’ he hesitates. ‘They’re kind of like vampires. There are rules. They can’t just sneak in whenever they want. They have to be invited in. That’s why they needed me and Holly. They couldn’t get in here without us.’

  And that’s why the horse and the sharktooth man had to get me to come outside before they could . . . okay, let’s not get caught up in the close-shaves-with-death thing right now. Put on your Spencer Hastings face, Linford.

  ‘And They want me to stay in here because there is something out there trying to kill me,’ I guess.

  He nods. ‘You’re the Valentine. They need to keep you safe until They can take you home.’

  Take me where?!

  ‘And that is where, exactly?’

  ‘Like They’d tell me.’

  ‘Don’t you get sassy with me, Julian. I’m asking the questions. You said I was the Valentine. What does that mean?’

  ‘I don’t know, Pearl,’ he says. ‘You’re, like, the chosen one or something. I’m not exactly privy to their high-level discussions.’

  ‘But they thought it was Cardy first, right? And Marie? Before they thought it was me?’

  ‘They – the ones I work for, anyway – always knew it was you,’ he says. ‘But the other ones didn’t. They were the ones that went after Cardy. They elf-shot him and he came through it fine, which means he took the bolt out. Only one of Them can do that. And now he’s gone off with them, and –’

  ‘No he hasn’t,’ I say flatly. ‘He’s dead.’

  ‘Cardy’s dead?’

  ‘Stay on topic,’ I snap. ‘We don’t have time for this now. What about Marie?’

  He shakes his head. ‘I don’t know anything about what happened to Marie.’

  Like hell he doesn’t. ‘Okay, cards on the table,’ I say. ‘Who are you working for, Julian?’

  He just looks at me.

  ‘Is it the Seelie?’ I ask. ‘The summertime fairies?’

  Slowly, he nods.

  ‘And they’re the ones . . . the Valentine is their changeling? Their lost kid?’

  Another nod.

  ‘And they want to keep me safe until they can whisk me away to their fairytale kingdom or whatever,’ I say. ‘But the other side – the Unseelie, the winter fairies – they want me dead.’

  Nod.

  ‘And all the black birds and cats and stuff – they’re . . .  Unseelie?’ I guess.

  Nod.

  ‘What about the horse? The black horse from Tillie’s party? Unseelie too?’

  ‘And dangerous,’ he says. ‘So, so dangerous.’

  ‘If there’s all these evil things after me, why don’t the Seelie swoop in and take me away right now?’

  ‘There are rules,’ he says. ‘They’re big on rules. I don’t know how or why or . . . maybe someone signed a contract, I don’t know. But they can’t take you unless you want to go.’

  ‘So, what, they assigned you and Holly to keep me indoors forever?’ I ask incredulously.

  ‘We’re trying to save your life, Pearl,’ he snaps. ‘You could at least be the tiniest bit grateful.’

  ‘I –’ No. No. I will not be derailed or guilt-tripped by Julian Bishop right now. ‘How did you get mixed up in this, anyway?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he says. ‘It’s all . . . it’s like someone’s scrambled my memories like you scramble eggs. I wasn’t working for them, and then I just . . . was.’

  I think back to Phil, sitting there talking to no one in the Saffron Room. Looks like she’s not the only one in this relationship that’s had
her mind messed with.

  ‘Is Phil mixed up in this?’ I ask tightly.

  ‘No!’ he exclaims, so loudly I’m worried Shad will hear. ‘I would never get her involved in this. You have to believe me.’

  ‘What about Marie?’ I say. ‘You dated her, and she’s dead, Julian.’

  A complicated ripple of emotions plays across his face. I think I should definitely steer away from professions that involve breaking news sensitively to people.

  ‘Tell me more about Them,’ I say. ‘How do I protect myself?’

  ‘Don’t you think that if I knew more I’d have done that already?’ he says quietly.

  ‘You must know more,’ I press. ‘They’re – we’re – allergic to iron. I’ve worked that bit out. What else?’

  ‘They don’t really like bread,’ he says.

  ‘Bread?!’

  ‘Or salt,’ he says. ‘Or when people wear their clothes inside out.’

  ‘What, seriously?’

  ‘Seriously,’ he says. ‘They have, like, a thing about it. They’re all about order and perfection. One time, they made Holly and me tidy your kitchen.’

  Wow.

  ‘Okay,’ I say. ‘What else?’

  ‘What else do you want me to tell you, Pearl?’ he explodes. ‘They’re crazy beautiful and have crazy powers and can screw with your head and they don’t ever, ever die. And I’m more scared of them than I’ve been of anything in my life. Is that what you want to hear?’

  ‘They don’t die?!’

  Oh my God. Finn’s immortal.

  Finn Blacklin, who has teased me and poked fun at me for years and years and years, is never going to die. He’s going to be teasing my daughters, and my granddaughters, and all my descendants forever and ever.

  Unless the Unseelie find him.

  ‘Hang on,’ I say. ‘You said the Unseelie want to kill me. How can they do that if I can’t die?’

  ‘Just because you don’t die doesn’t mean you can’t be killed,’ he says darkly.

  ‘So, what, it’s like vampires again? Or the elves in Lord of the Rings?’

  He shrugs.

  ‘Why is all this happening now?’ I ask. ‘They’ve had seventeen years to come after me. Why now?’

  He shrugs again. ‘The Unseelie worked out where you were, I guess. The Seelie weren’t just going to leave you.’