Winter's Shadow

by M. J. Hearle

  Rooted to the spot in shock, Madeleine was shaken from her stupor by Blake’s terrified expression as his gaze met hers across the clearing. Her protective maternal instinct was ignited and she looked around desperately for a weapon. A dead branch lay on the snow nearby. She snatched it up, wielding it like a club.

  As she strode towards the wolves, Madeleine saw Claudette tilt her head in her direction. She was surprised to see that her daughter’s angelic features were unshadowed by the fear that gripped her brother. Instead, Claudette looked calm, more fascinated by the salivating beasts than afraid of them.

  ‘Get away from them!’ Madeleine screamed at the wolves.

  Their twitching snouts jerked in her direction. Through the drifting snow, she could see the baleful yellow glare of their eyes as they left the tree and padded slowly towards her. Thin and wiry, these wolves had been starved by the long winter. Long ropes of saliva dripped from their jaws as they regarded Madeleine hungrily. Despite the wind, she could hear growls rumbling in the back of their throats.

  ‘Run, Mother!’ Blake called from the safety of the tree.

  ‘Don’t be afraid!’ she responded, her voice shaking. Gripping the branch with two hands, she waited for the wolves to charge. The fear that made it tremble in her grasp was for Blake and Claudette, not for herself. Letting loose a chilling howl, the first wolf broke rank and sprinted through the snow towards her. Madeleine braced herself, raising the branch over her head. Once it was within killing distance, the wolf leapt, eyes fixed on her throat. Terror had made a warrior of Madeleine. She swung the branch with all her might, bringing it down upon the triangular skull of the wolf with a loud crack. The stricken animal tumbled through the snow before crumpling against a tree.

  Now the other wolves came, kicking up plumes of white powder with their paws. Madeleine turned to face them with the branch, feeling a black hopelessness darken her resolve. There was no way she could fight them both! Her panicked stare shot past the wolves to the children in the tree. Claudette was missing!

  She could see the blood-red gums of the wolves now, their cruel, jagged teeth exposed in triumphant snarls. Tensing for the attack, Madeleine raised the branch again.

  The wolves never reached her. A pale blur intercepted the nearest one, tackling it to the ground. Madeleine watched in amazement as the blur resolved itself into her eight-year-old daughter. The wind whipped Claudette’s black curls about her head as she forced open the wolf’s snapping jaws, wrenching its head backwards. Madeleine heard a snap and the wolf fell from her daughter’s grasp, its neck broken.

  The other wolf, distracted by the plight of its mate, had abandoned its charge on Madeleine. Confused, it circled Claudette, advancing and then retreating, unsure if it was still safe to attack the tiny human.

  The small girl stood calmly watching the wolf stalk her. There was still no sign of any fear on her doll-like face, just cold regard. Her eyes narrowed as the wolf took a few tentative steps towards her. Madeleine saw the emerald light of her eyes (so much like her father’s) flash in the darkness of the woods. A silent communication passed between the two – a warning. The surviving wolf howled once, a pathetic, desperate gesture, before turning to run back into the woods, tail between its legs. Madeleine dropped the branch and rushed to her daughter, gathering the child in her arms. Claudette felt unnaturally hot, almost burning Madeleine’s lips as she covered her feverish face with kisses.

  ‘That was fun,’ Claudette said quietly.

  Shocked, Madeline pulled away from her daughter. She stared at her child’s flushed, pink face, at her eyes shining unnaturally in the low light. Though Claudette was physically unharmed, Madeleine feared the battle with the wolves had damaged her in ways that were invisible. Something had changed in her little angel . . . Or something had been revealed: a dark aspect dormant until now. Before Madeleine could dwell on this troubling prospect, she was distracted by the sound of tiny feet running across the snow behind her.

  As she turned, Blake leapt into her arms, nearly knocking her off-balance.

  ‘I was so scared!’ he cried, burying his face in her breast. She felt his tears soaking through her bodice as she rocked him gently.

  ‘Hush now, the danger’s passed,’ she said, her gaze flitting to Claudette. Watching her daughter’s blank face, Madeleine felt a cold chill and knew she’d just lied.

  Chapter 39

  Winter had never slept through her alarm before, but when the clock radio crackled into life mid-commercial the next morning, she barely stirred. It wasn’t until her phone started ringing that she finally opened her eyes. Blinking blearily in the morning light, she fumbled for the vibrating annoyance next to her bed.

  ‘Hello?’ Her voice was still thick with sleep. She kept her eyes shut, as the light in her room seemed almost unbearably intense.

  ‘Win? What’s the matter, are you okay?’ It was Jasmine.

  ‘Yeah. Why?’

  ‘Why aren’t you at school?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Confused, Winter opened her eyes again – slowly this time, to give her newly sensitive pupils time to adjust. The bedroom threatened to remain a mass of swirling hyper-colours and light flares for a few seconds before resolving into something she could bear.

  She squinted at the red LED display of the clock radio beside her and was shocked to see the time. It was nearly twelve-thirty!

  ‘Are you sick or something? You sound really weird.’

  Winter struggled to bring her thoughts into focus. ‘I’m not feeling too hot. Look, Jas, I just woke up. I’ll call you back in a sec, okay?’

  ‘Okay. Are you sure nothing’s wrong?’ Jasmine asked, her voice concerned.

  ‘I’m fine, Jas. I’ll call you back.’ Winter was in no state to discuss what had happened last night with Jasmine. Not yet, anyway. She needed to track Blake down before she could even contemplate discussing it with someone else.

  Dragging herself out of bed, Winter pulled on her jeans. The light coming in through the window was still distractingly painful. She reached for her sunglasses, which were lying on the desk next to her copy of Jane Eyre. The sweet relief they afforded her was almost heavenly. She finished dressing and went to the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth. She consciously avoided seeing her reflection, afraid she might look worse than she felt.

  Winter had never felt hungrier in her entire life. Her stomach was rumbling so loudly she was surprised it hadn’t woken her up before Jasmine did. She practically ran to the kitchen and set about making herself a full meal of eggs, bacon and toast with a bowl of cereal to finish. Her enormous appetite was baffling, as she was normally a light eater, rarely indulging in anything more than an apple and a mug of tea for breakfast. Today, she couldn’t seem to get full. The experience last night had apparently left her body’s energy stores completely depleted. After there was some food in her stomach, Winter felt much stronger. Strong enough to face the task ahead, anyway.

  The idea of seeing Blake again filled her with a mixture of anxiety and excitement. Her biggest concern was that he might not want to see her again. Winter felt that she had no other choice. It was impossible to forget the sights he’d shown her – the ghost city, the flying, the teleportation. What was she supposed to do? Go to school and pretend it had never happened? It felt as though a crack had been opened in her mind – a crack in her preconceived notions of reality, a crack that was slowly widening. Winter was worried that if Blake didn’t help her to understand what had caused that schism, it might continue to widen until it swallowed her whole and she lost her grasp on reality.

  With poor Jessie gone, Winter’s only means of getting to Blake’s would be by bus. She was pretty sure the 410 out to Clifton would take her along Holloway Road, but she’d need to walk to Maple Boulevard to catch it – a fair distance. If she wanted to reach the old Velasco place before it got too late, she would have to get moving. She washed up the breakfast dishes, put aside her growing apprehension, and set off on her jou
rney.

  Outside, a wide bank of grey clouds had rolled across the sky. It looked as if it was going to rain again. Despite the diluted sunlight, Winter found she still needed her sunglasses to see comfortably. Something had definitely happened last night to make her eyesight more sensitive. What if it was permanent? Winter didn’t want to go through life hiding her eyes like an attention-conscious celebrity.

  Keeping an eye on the clouds, she quickened her step as she started down the footpath. Fuelled by her anxiety, the journey didn’t take as long as she’d expected, and soon she was turning the corner into Maple Boulevard. The bus stop was up ahead just opposite the newsagency. As she drew nearer, her phone buzzed in her jeans pocket. It was Jasmine again.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Why didn’t you call me back?’

  ‘I’m so sorry, Jas. I completely forgot.’

  There was an ominous roll of thunder from above. Winter could taste that distinctive metallic flavour in the air that always preceded a storm. If she didn’t find cover soon she was going to get very wet. Cradling the phone against her ear, she headed for the newsagency to buy a bus ticket.

  ‘So are you going to tell me about last night, or are you just going to leave me in suspense?’ What could Winter possibly tell her that would sound even remotely believable?

  ‘Win? Are you there?’

  Winter sighed faintly enough that Jasmine couldn’t hear it. ‘You know what, Jas? There’s nothing to tell. We said our goodbyes and that was that.’

  ‘You’re kidding me? Nothing happened? No kiss, no canoodling – nothing?’

  A kiss . . .

  That had been so much more than a kiss that Winter felt as if she should invent another word. The two times she’d been kissed before Blake certainly couldn’t compare. The first, Arnie Wilkins, had been a chubby boy with chocolate on his fingers sitting near her and Jasmine on the bus home from an eighth grade school camp. During the journey, Jasmine had felt it was high time Winter lost her ‘kissing virginity’, and Arnie had been the closest (and most willing, Winter suspected) candidate. The kiss had lasted only a second or two before Arnie became a little too eager and decided to try to explore her tonsils with his tongue. After pushing him off, she remembered feeling relieved that she’d finally done it – kissed a boy – and was now free of the burden of expectation.

  The second, Mark O’Connor, had been at last year’s school-sponsored dance at the surf club. Mark went to the public school on the other side of town and had surprised Winter by asking her to dance with him. She’d seen him at a few parties but the two of them had never exchanged words. He’d kissed her in the darkness during a Radiohead song, and she’d tasted alcohol on his breath. Neither experience remotely came close to matching the electric sensation of Blake’s lips pressing against hers.

  She smiled to herself, thinking that after all the amazing things that had happened to her, it was this moment that burned the brightest in her memory. It seemed as though the wonders of the universe paled next to its simple magic.

  ‘Win?’ Jasmine’s impatient tone brought her back to earth.

  ‘Sorry. I wish I could tell you more.’ For a second or two, she was worried Jasmine would press the subject, but luckily her friend was too preoccupied with her own woes to detect Winter’s reticence.

  ‘Well, it sounds like you still had a better night than I did!’ Jasmine said.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because guys suck, that’s why! I hate them all!’

  Oh – it was only boy trouble. Winter found herself oddly grateful for the opportunity to listen to Jasmine’s neurotic ramblings. It was a welcome distraction from her own scary thoughts, questions and anxieties.

  ‘Tell me what happened, Jas.’

  ‘Last night after I left you, I spent half an hour walking around looking for Sam – half an hour, Win! – before I figured out the jerk had ditched me.’ Jasmine paused for that momentous fact to sink in. ‘He ditched me! Me! I don’t get ditched. I’m the one who does the ditching.’

  ‘That’s unbelievable,’ Winter offered, only partially tongue in cheek. Unlike Winter, Jasmine was inexperienced with rejection. Finally, here was a matter of the heart Winter had some familiarity with. However, it didn’t look as though she was going to get a word in edgeways. Fat drops of rain began to spatter her jacket and she quickened her pace.

  ‘You know, I could have died when that light fell down. I was distraught! The least Sam could have done was hang around to comfort me. I mean, that’s what a normal person would do given the situation, don’t you think?’

  Winter had to restrain herself from pointing out it was she, not Jasmine, who had in fact almost died. Instead, she offered the requisite sympathy, or a reasonable imitation of it.

  ‘I’m really sorry for you, Jas.’

  Jasmine grew even more vexed. ‘Don’t feel sorry for me, feel sorry for Sam. That boy doesn’t know what he’s in for. Can you believe the coward didn’t even have the guts to show up at school today either? He thinks he can just avoid me! What a loser!’ She paused her rant to suck in a breath. ‘Seriously, I think I might actually kill him. Do you know any good criminal defence attorneys?’

  ‘Uh-huh . . .’ Winter said absently, stepping into the newsagency, just as a curtain of water fell behind her and the storm began in earnest. There was nobody in the store, save for the elderly clerk behind the counter. He shot one dismissive glance at Winter before turning his attention back to his car magazine. Jasmine continued to bleat down the phone, more or less repeating the story.

  ‘Could I have a single to Clifton, please?’ Winter asked the clerk, fumbling for her purse.

  ‘Too bright for you in here, is it?’ the clerk asked sarcastically, nodding towards her sunglasses.

  ‘Oh, sorry!’ Winter said, feeling a little foolish. She lifted her sunglasses, tentatively sitting them on top of her head. The fluorescent lights of the store were still bright, but it was tolerable.

  ‘One seventy-five,’ the clerk said, ringing up the amount on the till.

  Winter slid the change across the counter. He took it without a smile, evidently annoyed by the disruption to his reading time. He shuffled off to the ticket machine next to the cash register and started printing her ticket.

  ‘You know, I’m not feeling a lot of love from you, Win. Just because you’re sick and all doesn’t mean you can’t shoot some sympathy my way.’ Jasmine demanded, finally cluing in to Winter’s ambivalence.

  Winter quickly began apologising. ‘I’m sorry, Jas. What were you —’

  The words died in her throat as the clerk returned. Winter felt her mouth drop open as she stared at his face in astonishment.

  ‘Is that all for today, miss?’ He held the ticket out for Winter to take. She didn’t react.

  ‘Winnie!’ Jasmine’s voice was shifting over into outright anger now, but Winter barely heard her. She was transfixed by the clerk in front of her – by what she saw in his eyes.

  ‘Win? Why are you ignoring —?’

  Winter was aware of the phone slipping from her fingers but made no effort to catch it. The clerk watched with mild surprise as it fell to the floor.

  ‘You dropped your phone.’

  When Winter made no move to pick it up, but simply stood there gawking at him, the clerk began to get irritated.

  ‘Can I help you with something else?’

  Winter couldn’t answer him.

  His eyes . . . his eyes were on fire!

  Chapter 40

  Winter couldn’t believe what was happening in front of her. As the old clerk scowled at her, she could see tiny tongues of blue fire dancing in his pupils. The flames flickered and pulsed in the black depths, entrancing Winter with their light and movement.

  ‘Miss?’ The clerk folded his arms in irritation. When she again failed to answer him, he shook his head in exasperation. Winter was fascinated to see his eyes leaving thin blue light trails with the shaking motion of his head.

 
‘Your eyes . . .’ was all she could manage. She lowered her sunglasses again, curious to see if the visual effect would fade. The blue light vanished. There must be something about the polarised lenses that hid the effect from her naked eye. Mesmerised, Winter raised the sunglasses and the strange eye-fire became visible again. What was also belatedly visible to Winter was the clerk’s annoyance.

  ‘Miss, if you’re not going to buy anything else I’m going to have to ask you to leave,’ he said, pointing at the doorway behind Winter.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Winter heard herself say distantly. Still staring at the spectral blue light in the old man’s eyes, she scooped up her phone, and backed out the door. The cloudburst had eased somewhat and through the misting rain Winter could see a dozen or so shoppers braving the miserable weather as they walked past the storefronts; their bodies little more than hazy shapes shuffling to and fro, and their eyes burning with the same spectral fire as the clerk’s.

  What was going on? Was she hallucinating? Was this what it was like to see the world once your mind lost its grip on reality? Did the people around you transform into blue-eyed phantoms?

  A bald man in a tan suit marched out of the hardware store in front of her, holding a newspaper over his head to shield himself from the rain. Here was something different – the man’s pupils glowed neon red instead of blue. Fascinated by this new development, Winter stopped to watch the man as he walked past her to the pedestrian crossing, trailing twin crimson lights in his wake.

  As he stood on the curb waiting for the signal to change, the man’s phone began to ring. Winter watched as he greeted the caller, and laughed at some unheard joke. Noticing a lull in the traffic, the man began to cross the street early, still laughing into the receiver. He was too distracted by his conversation to notice the bus bearing down on him from the opposite direction, too distracted to see the danger he was in.