by Ruby Brown
“My plan was to train her using only Praethen magic so she could fulfil the prophecy when she was strong enough, but as time passed I dreaded it more and more. I knew that when I sent her away to defeat Akraansir, she wouldn’t come back. When Mal arrived, I thought that my prayers were answered. You could sacrifice yourself, and Trixie would stay alive with me.
“For some reason, Trixie never shared any of my trepidation about her fate. From a young age, she had accepted that it was inevitable and became obsessed with the idea of taking down Tenebar’s biggest enemy. I imagine that’s why she jumped at the chance to go with Mal and Claire. Everything that happened in that library makes sense. Without her medicine, it would have been incredibly difficult for Trixie to supress it all. She simply snapped. As for what happened to Akraansir, the traces of medicine combined with the amount of Praethen magic contained in Trixie’s blood after years of training would have reacted horribly with her essence.” Allie turned and reached out to Rose. “I’m so sorry about what happened to Thomas. Trixie didn’t mean it, we both know she never would have hurt him.”
Rose flinched away from Allie’s fingers. “Don’t touch me,” she spat. Allie let her arm drop to her side, looking more empty and alone than ever before. She faced the crowd and apologised to them all, but Mal had the feeling none of them would accept it anytime soon. She was certainly having trouble getting her head around everything. The knowledge that Trixie had been her sister was crushing her. She felt Rose’s hand around hers, leading her down from the stage gently, and Dallas murmured something in her ear. She didn’t care. She didn’t listen.
Chapter 39
“Merry Christmas, mum,” Mal said, smiling gently as she pushed a brightly wrapped package into Abigail’s trembling hands. She stared at it for a second, not quite comprehending its purpose. They were sitting inside Abigail’s room in the mental hospital. Mal hated it here. It was detached from reality in a way that she supposed was safe for the patients, but it made her skin crawl. Her mum, the one she’d had before Akraansir stole her, would have hated it too. But the shell sitting in front of her seemed to like it here. At least she was happier here than back at home, surrounded by memories of the husband she was determined to get back.
To distract herself from the vacant look on Abigail’s face, Mal stared out the window. A clear blue sky shone over a perfectly manicured garden, glittering with bright flowers and trees that spiralled upwards. A bright orange butterfly flew by the window in a crooked line, like it was drunk. Mal liked the garden a hell of a lot more than inside the building, but if she heard one more person tell her that a walk outside, a breath of fresh air, might be good for Abigail, she was going to empty the contents of one of the bedpans in this wretched place over their heads.
The distinct sound of wrapping paper being torn apart made her look back at Abigail, who was in the process of opening the gift Mal had got her. Hoping that it would rekindle something, Mal had bought her some of her favourite coffee and a mug Mal had painted herself. It was violet with a bright sunflower on the front. She was hoping that the combination of Abigail’s favourite preferred coffee, colour and flower would bring a part of her back. But that optimism died in the light of Abigail’s smile and thanks. Although Mal knew she meant it, there was no spark of recognition. Feeling defeated, Mal slumped back in her chair, but painted a smile on her face. She stayed until her phone chimed with a text from Dallas telling her that he was waiting outside for her.
Mal said goodbye and then walked out. The Christmas tree at the front desk seemed so out of place. The colours were far too bright and garish against the whitewashed everything. A part of her wanted to tear it down, but she lowered her head and slid into the passenger’s seat next to Dallas. She always asked him to pick her up because she knew he wouldn’t want to talk, wouldn’t try to fill the silence or force her to pretend to be something she wasn’t to spare his feelings.
“Okay?” Dallas asked as he started to drive away.
“Yeah,” Mal responded, propping her head on her hand and staring out the window. They had the same conversation every time he picked her up from the hospital, and unlike others who might probe a little further, he trusted her response. They sat in silence for the rest of the drive up to Tenebar, where Mal had made her home. Abigail thought she was staying with relatives, and that was what she would have told people at school if any of them cared enough to ask.
Tenebar decorated for Christmas was something straight from a fairy tale. Sparkling tinsel wound its way around every available surface, baubles hung from the chandeliers, gigantic Christmas trees dominated the rooms and dwarfed everyone around them. Annoyingly festive people walked around dressed in festive costumes, or wore exclusively red and green. Rose had told her, with a violent bitterness in her voice, that people usually didn’t put this much effort into decorating Tenebar for Christmas. They were just trying to forget everything that had happened in the last few weeks. Mal saw evidence of this in the way people around her downed drink after drink in the dining hall, claiming that it was in the name of festivities, but they had emptiness behind their eyes that showed they were hoping the vodka would burn away their demons in the same way it burned the back of their throats.
Mal couldn’t face the festivities, and neither could Dallas, so in synchronisation they climbed the stairs and headed for their rooms. The only difference was that while Mal smiled politely at the people around her who were celebrating, Dallas scowled at them so ferociously that no one dared approach him. He had never really enjoyed the holidays, but this year he despised them. He didn’t care if that made him a Grinch or a Scrooge or whatever the hell you wanted to call it. To be honest, he didn’t care about much anymore.
Blissfully, Mal had been allowed to stay in a room by herself. She desperately needed it. Originally they were planning to keep her in a dorm with other girls until Abigail recovered, but when it became apparent that Abigail wasn’t going to get better anytime soon, they let her have her own space. She had moved most of her old stuff her, so it looked almost exactly like her old room had, except with bigger windows, which wasn’t entirely appreciated when night fell. It always felt like someone was watching her through the glass. She picked up a book and plugged in her earphones in an attempt to distract herself. Although she could still hear the commotion outside, she was hoping that she could feign ignorance and use the volume of her music as an excuse if someone called for her.
Suddenly, the door to her room swung open. Mal instantly put a smile on her face and braced herself, but it was only Rose so she let the façade drop. The relief that crashed over her when she saw it was a trusted friend who would sit in silence with her instead of try to drag her downstairs was indescribable. Rose smiled weakly. “Can’t face going downstairs?” Mal shook her head and patted the space next to her, inviting Rose to sit, which she did. “Look what I got,” Rose said softly. She reached for the locket around her neck and clicked it open. As always, there was a picture of her parents on the right, but she had added a picture of Joel and Trixie with their arms around each other on the left. Mal smiled at it, despite feeling like someone had just punched her in the stomach, and Rose closed the locket.
“How are you feeling?” Mal said quietly.
Rose was silent for a moment, and then said numbly “I’m surviving.” Mal nodded, and Rose continued. “Dallas was helping me clean out Thomas’ room, and we found the Christmas presents he had bought for his friends. This one is for you.” Rose offered Mal the package she was carrying, and Mal took it. She held it in her hands for a moment, admiring the haphazard wrapping and the way he’d scrawled her name in spiky handwriting.
“Thank you,” she said, looking up at her friend with a sad smile on her face. Rose’s eyes filled with tears, and she hugged Mal tightly before walking out of the room. She was obviously in a rush to get outside before Mal saw her break down, but Mal still heard one the sobs that burst from her lips just before the door shut behind her.
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sp; Mal took a deep breath and stared at the present in her hands. A part of her didn’t want to open it. She didn’t want to see. It felt wrong somehow. But her curiosity got the best of her, and she started cautiously unwrapping it, doing her best not to tear the paper. Her shaking hands and the tears that were blurring her vision didn’t help, but she did her best.
It was a book. A copy of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, to replace the one he destroyed when they first met. Stunned, Mal remembered him promising he’d buy her a new one, the way his voice, so vibrant and alive with the thrill of battle, had echoed in her room. Mal opened the book and began to read, a wobbly smile on her face, ignoring the tears that fell and stained the pages.