The Life and Death Parade

by Eliza Wass

  He winced like I was taking shots at him. “Of course I’m—”

  “I mean, with everything. With Nikki.”

  He backed away from me. “What do you…I don’t…” He tripped on a step. “I have to go to bed. I’m going out early tomorrow.”

  “All right.” He shook his head, like I’d done it again, and then hurried up the stairs.

  Roan stayed. He watched Only Fools and Horses with Lord Bramley. He taught Holiday card tricks. He divulged all the secrets of the Magic Circle to Lady Bramley. I pressed him about the whereabouts of the LDP and he continued to plead my patience, but he also taught me about them, so even though they might have been miles away, I sometimes fancied I could feel them getting closer. At first Macklin avoided him, but as time passed he would look in occasionally, observing the strange things Roan was teaching Holiday and me.

  That afternoon it was how to build an altar. He had cleansed Holiday’s room, which involved cleaning and blessing all the objects in it, then smoking it with sage. The coat had been taken in by a very understanding dry-cleaner and came back fresher than it was when Nikki wore it. The sword had bathed for seven days in restorative oils and was now mounted to the wall above her door. Macklin leaned against the door frame. Holiday and I were piled on the bed, and Roan was instructing the class.

  “Everyone’s practice is slightly different,” he said. He had cleared off Holiday’s dresser, moved it so it was bathed in the waning sunlight. His doctor’s bag was on the floor beside it. He would pull strange things from it, Poppins-like, at odd occasions. I once had a nightmare that I opened it and found nothing inside. “There’s no right or wrong way to build an altar. What we’re doing today is an ancestral altar, which helps connect you with people who’ve passed on.” I looked to Macklin, expecting him to make a derisive remark, but his face was quite serious. Nikki’s picture sat amidst the items on the dresser. He was the only one in the room smiling. “It’s the same basic setup as a standard altar, except with a standard altar you’re petitioning a saint.

  “So you start with a flat surface.” He hit the dresser. “Cover it with a white cloth.” He lifted an ancient Bramley family tablecloth in antique lace and spread it over the dresser. “Then your pictures.” He set the picture of Nikki at the center. An anxious feeling curled in my stomach. I sat up on the bed.

  There was something unsettling about Roan’s magic, even if it wasn’t real. Every night I tossed and turned thinking about what he’d said at the séance: I love you more. And I wanted to believe. Sometimes I could feel myself feathering over faith, wanting to test his magic. And it scared me. “Little reminders and things like that. Powerful objects.” He scattered the stones Nikki picked up in Cornwall, earth from Nikki’s grave. “Your candles at the back.” He lit three white candles. White, for contacting the dead. “Your incense.” The smell of frankincense bled through the room. “Your bowl of water.” He touched the crystal glass. “Your food bowl.”

  “Are you going to feed him?” Macklin made a face.

  Roan turned toward him. “Well, some people, they actually put a portion of a meal in every day.”

  “And it just sits there?”

  “Until the next day.” Roan flicked his hair back. “Personally, I prefer fennel seeds.”

  “Fennel seeds?’

  “Yeah, you put them in a bag and attach them to the back of the picture.” Roan produced a little bag. Macklin made a quizzical face. “To feed the spirit,” Roan explained.

  Macklin blew his hair. “Where on earth did you pick this up?”

  “My boyfriend taught me, mostly. Everyone has a slightly different way of accessing the spirit world, so you do whatever works for you.”

  “Boyfriend?” Macklin repeated.

  “Late boyfriend,” Roan said back.

  Macklin hunched his shoulders. “And you actually believe this rubbish works?”

  “I like the ritual of it. I mean, the point of all this is to access something that’s already inside you.” He made a fist over his heart. “Our minds were created to function in this world. Anything outside of it—the afterlife—appears to us as madness. Sometimes it helps to give that madness a structure. That’s why people build religions, to contain something that can’t be contained. To explain something that can’t be explained. To take aim against chaos.” He winked and clucked his tongue, which was sort of his signature move.

  “To feed a photograph.”

  “You’re getting bogged down in the details. It’s what’s underneath that counts. You know Nikki has been trying to contact you, and this is exactly why he can’t.”

  I jumped up as Macklin shoved himself off the doorway. “Don’t talk to me about Nikki,” he snapped. “You don’t know anything about him.” Macklin turned on his heel and left. Roan moved back to the altar like he wasn’t bothered.

  “You shouldn’t say things like that,” I sighed, after Macklin’s footsteps had receded.

  Roan frowned. “He just comes here and makes fun of everything.”

  “It’s actually quite a big deal that he comes at all.” His bag was lying open on the floor. I slid toward the end of the bed. “I think you should go talk to him. Make sure he’s all right.”

  “Me?”

  “You’re the only one he’ll listen to.”

  He gave me a quizzical look. “He just ran away from me.”

  “Because he wants you to follow him.” I bounced my foot against the side of the dresser, trying to look casual.

  Roan looked me up and down, then cocked his head. “No problem.”

  He was gone not five minutes when I said to Holiday, “Maybe you should make sure Roan’s all right.” She leapt right off the bed, happy to be included.

  Then the pounding started in my ears. I slid to the edge of the bed. The door was open and I jumped up to close it, tripping as I rushed across the room. I turned the lock, then got down on the floor. My heart raced. I remembered the dream, the empty bag, the real magic, and then I pulled the bag toward me, pulled apart the stiff wooden mouth. I reached into it and quickly retracted my hand: the feathery tickle of human hair.

  I took a deep breath, double-checked the door, and turned the bag over.

  Crystals and candles and liquid vials spewed across the floor in a cough of dirt. Roan may have kept his boat neat, but his bag was disgusting. There was a rusted folding knife with inlaid gold horses, a broken harmonica held together by a bobby pin, and locks of human hair, tied off with ribbons, that came apart in my hands and stuck in strands to my jeans. Last to fall was a book handmade from recycled paper. It had no title but inside it were diagrams and lists: fast for seven days, bathe in blessed oils. Items listed alongside their intentions. Pigeon manure: jinxing. Snake sheds: revenge. One diagram showed a body splayed on the floor, tied to five points of a star. I shivered.

  I sifted through the items in the bag, trying to find something that might tell me where to find the LDP, whether I could trust Roan to take me to them, but all I found was more magic junk. I sighed and put things back, piece by piece, cringing as I returned the human hair. My fingers closed around a spool of black ribbon, marked down to half price. I knew what that meant. I had two strands tied around the lucky rabbit’s foot: one for the rabbit and one for Nikki.

  I picked up the last item: a woven bag. I held it up for a moment, fingers rubbing the satiny fabric. Then I pulled apart the strings. It was grimy and stank of vanilla. I held it up to the light. There were dead flower petals—white with rusted pink around the edges. There were stones of rose quartz and aquamarine. Dried leaves. A gold ring that looked almost familiar.

  I stuck my fingers into the bag, felt human hair. This time I didn’t flinch. I pulled it from the bag. The light of the candles waved over it. It fell from my fingers and landed on the floor.

  It wasn’t. Surely a million boys had hair that color, that golden blond with strands of near-white. But somehow I knew. Somehow I was sure that at the center of a bag filled with m
agical objects was a lock of Nikki’s hair.

  The box was torn open. The crystals cracked. The wax candles flattened, bitten in places. The sage, burned to ashes, drawn along the floor to spell the word: die. All of Mum’s things were scattered across the floor, like an animal had torn through them, like a demon possessed.

  I found Nikki on his chair, his lips pursed, eyes like a clock ticking down. The white hair was prominent now, in great tufts above his ears.

  He was alone. He had his sword, and he was running it back and forth along his chest, over the thick canvas of his coat, and muttering, sometimes humming, to himself in that great, quiet chapel.

  “What are you doing?”

  He ran the sword once, slowly over his own heart, then rested the tip on the floor. “Thinking.”

  “About what?”

  He looked up at the ceiling. “Destiny.” He put one foot on the floor. “I used to think only the good things were meant to happen, but that’s stupid, isn’t it? Of course bad things are meant to happen, too.” He stood up, dragging the sword along the floor behind him and looking up at the ceiling.

  “Why did you do it?”

  “What?”

  “The gun. The tourists. I don’t understand.”

  He cringed. “They can’t be here. It’s not safe. For any of you.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because of me. Because I’m here.”

  “What’s so bad about you?”

  The sword scraped in an arc as he turned to face me. “If I told you, you’d make me leave.”

  “No. I wouldn’t. Nikki, you know I wouldn’t. I’d stand by you whatever happened.” But even as I spoke I was scared. Had he done something? Had he hurt someone? And could I stand by him really, if he had? I saw the pale faces of the crowd. Heard the click of the gun. Saw the silver stabbed into the soft flesh of his temple.

  He took my hand. “There’s one thing you can do for me.”

  “What? I’ll do anything.”

  His breath was hot along my ear, his lips shifted in my hair. “Pray for me. As hard as you can. Pray for me.” He gripped my wrist and the sword clattered to the floor, and my knees swayed.

  I did pray that night, even though it seemed stupid and surreal. I prayed over and over: Please, God, help Nikki.

  And I felt sure things would be all right. I believed he would be saved. I had no idea how far he’d already gone.

  ELEVEN

  I waited ages for Roan to return, clutching the hair in my fist. I held it to my nose. I recognized the patchouli scent of Nikki’s shampoo. Roan didn’t come back. So I went looking for him, tucking the woven bag in the pocket of my army coat.

  I found him in the aviary with Holiday. He had a bird on his wrist, pecking seeds from his open palm. Holiday watched, mystified. He looked up when he saw me, but he moved so smoothly that the bird didn’t flinch.

  “I need to speak to you,” I said. “Alone.”

  Holiday bounced forward, sensing he was in trouble. “Macklin tried to kiss him, but then Macklin ran away again.”

  My jaw dropped. Gooseflesh ran up and down my shoulders. “Now.”

  The bird fluttered its wings manically but stayed on his wrist until he flicked it off. “Sure.” He ruffled Holiday’s hair. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Can’t I come?” she said.

  He bent down and passed the seeds to her. “When I get back I want to see them eating from your hand.” He held a finger up between her eyes. “Remember, you have to stay perfectly still. Don’t even breathe.” She nodded, half-gasping, and stretched her arm up high.

  I led Roan through the glass doors, out of the aviary, and into the automaton room. He strode around the room, observing the glass-eyed miniature faces with disdain. He swiveled to face me. “Has anyone ever told you that you live in a horror movie?”

  “Are you auditioning for the villain?”

  “What did I do? All I’ve done is help you, all of you.”

  “Did Macklin really try to kiss you?”

  “I can’t control other people.”

  “No? Then what’s this for?” I pulled the bag from my pocket.

  His eyes widened and contracted, like lenses adjusting, focusing on me. It was the first time I had ever seen him taken by surprise. “And I’m the villain? What about my right to privacy?”

  “What is it? Some sort of curse?” Nikki had said he was cursed; what if he was right?

  “What if it was? You wouldn’t believe it anyway.” He reached for it, but I held it out away from him.

  “You knew Nikki,” I said.

  “I met him at a party.”

  I shook the bag. “Why have you made this?”

  “He asked me to.” He sat down in a chair, tossed his hair out of his eyes. “I made it for him. I was going to give it to you.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s a love spell.” He drew his finger along the antique armrest. “I assumed it was for you.”

  “Oh, really?”

  He took the bag from me and pulled the items out one by one. “Rose quartz and aquamarine and spearmint leaves. A wedding ring.” He set them on a side table. “If you’d ever listened to your mother, you would know all of this. It means love. Google it.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you’d met him?”

  “Because of this.” He blew air from his lips. “Because of exactly what’s happening now. I was waiting for you to trust me.” He stood smoothly so he was inches from me. “I figured I’d have a long wait.”

  “You’re a liar.”

  “You brought me here to lie.” He ran his fingers along a table, until they closed around a turquoise jewelry box. He picked it up and wound the golden key, slowly, so it cranked beneath our words.

  “Why have you kept it?”

  “He lost it.” The cranking grew louder as it tightened. His knuckles whitened. “You know how he was always losing things.”

  “That’s how you knew. You spoke to him at the party. That’s how you faked all of this, the reading, the séance. I do know what Nikki was like. He’d tell a stranger everything. He told you, everything.” Roan said nothing. Even still he wouldn’t admit it. “You’re a fraud.”

  “You brought me here to be a fraud.”

  “I know.” I stepped forward, but my voice betrayed me. My breath stuck inside my throat. Of course I knew he was a liar, of course I knew he was a fraud. But it was one thing knowing and another thing believing. And maybe I had believed, for one small moment in one small way, that the things he said could be real. “I don’t want you here anymore.”

  “I thought I wasn’t here for you.” The music box crackled as he made one final crank. “I thought I was here for them.” He swung his hair toward Holiday, who I could see through the door, beyond the glass, was balancing a bird on her fingers. He set the jewelry box on the table; the mechanical bird rollicked into a dizzy, jerking spin. The music played too fast, the mechanism wound too tight. “Seems like I’m not the only liar around here.”

  “That’s it. You’re leaving.”

  “Then I guess this is good-bye.” He clucked his tongue as he winked and left the room.

  I watched him reappear beyond the glass. Holiday squealed with delight. The bird shot back into the air. Beside me, the mechanical bird swung and rattled.

  Roan knew Nikki. What else was he hiding? I didn’t believe him anymore. I didn’t believe he didn’t know exactly what he was doing, with Macklin, with everyone. I had to get him out of the castle, before he cast a spell I couldn’t uncast. I started down the hall toward Lord Bramley’s office but found Macklin loitering in the hallway, watching Roan inside the aviary.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Macklin fussed with his collar. “I was just bored.” He gazed back toward the pair. “You have to admit, he’s not boring.”

  “I’m getting rid of him. You’ll have to find other ways to entertain yourself.”

  Macklin yanked his collar so hard it ne
arly tore. “But you brought him here.” His brow furrowed. “You defended him. All that rubbish at the table.”

  “He’s not who I thought he was. He knew Nikki. They met before. That’s how he knows all about him. And he’s used it to trick us.”

  “Isn’t that what you asked him to do?” Not this again.

  “Whose side are you on?”

  Macklin took his car keys out of his pocket and wound them around his finger. “What about this group, this life and death group?”

  “How do you know about that?”

  “I’m not a complete ninny, you know. I do notice things. He’s mentioned them, with Holiday.”

  “It’s this sort of cult, I guess. My mum used to belong to it.” I slipped Nikki’s rabbit’s foot out of my pocket without thinking, untangling the knots in the ribbon. “He’s supposed to take me to them. Although knowing him, that’s probably a lie as well.”

  “It’s the party Nikki went to, isn’t it? The one he talked about that day, with the snakes. The funeral.” Macklin inhaled slowly. “That must be where Roan met Nikki.” Everything was moving closer and closer together. “That’s where you’ll find your answers, isn’t it?” He took the rabbit’s foot from my hand and pulled loose the knots for me, set them straight, and handed it back. “If you make him leave, we’ll never find them.”

  “But I can’t even trust him to tell me.”

  “Maybe I can help.”

  “How?”

  His expression flickered. “I don’t know. I can get close to him. Play good cop to your bad cop. I think. I mean, don’t you think he likes me?” The question burned along the inside of my lips, and there it was, the perfect moment to ask him, Did you really try to kiss him? But it felt too real. Too intimate. And we didn’t speak about things like that, Macklin and I. We hardly spoke at all.

  I gazed again beyond the glass; Holiday had caught another bird, and six or seven were strung along Roan’s arm. As I watched the birds fidget, hop from foot to foot, Roan’s eyes found Macklin’s beyond the window and he smiled slightly, like he could hear us through the glass. Macklin waved and smiled back.