Outcasts

by Claire McFall

  “There isn’t,” Dylan insisted. “I knew the stakes when I accepted the Inquisitor’s offer. Please.” She took a deep breath, tried to calm herself. “I don’t want to argue. Not now.”

  Her dad looked like he wanted to continue, but Joan laid a hand on his knee. “All right, baby,” she agreed. “No more arguing.”

  “Thank you.” Dylan did her best to put on a brave face, but as every moment ticked by, it got more and more difficult. Though she and her mum often didn’t get along, she couldn’t imagine not seeing her every day. She was the one thing Dylan knew she could always rely on. And her dad – they’d barely begun getting to know each other, and now she had to say goodbye.

  Dylan gazed at them, sitting side by side, her dad’s arm around Joan’s shoulder, her mum’s hand on his knee. At least one good thing had come out of all of this.

  “I’m so glad you found each other again,” Dylan whispered.

  That was too much for Joan. She stared at Dylan for one long, glassy-eyed moment and then turned her head into James’s shoulder and started sobbing.

  He didn’t try to say anything comforting – there wasn’t anything to say. Instead he held her, his eyes drinking Dylan in.

  “I know you said the Inquisitor would take our memories,” he said quietly, “but I will remember you. I swear it.”

  Dylan swallowed through a throat made of shattered glass. “I hope so.”

  He wouldn’t, though. But that was all right. Dylan would be on the other side of the line, waiting for him. They’d make new memories then. Hundreds of them, thousands. Enough that Dylan would be able to bury this sad, sad day under an avalanche of joyful ones.

  James lifted his eyes from her face to the window, which made Dylan turn to look, too. She drew in a deep breath when she saw it, both relieved and anguished: the muted browns and greens of her parents’ wasteland was back. Tristan and Susanna were returning.

  Jumping to her feet, Dylan ignored the pins and needles that stabbed at her legs from sitting too long. She stalked to the door and yanked it open, stepping outside now that there was no danger from loitering wraiths. She couldn’t see Susanna or Tristan, but the path to the lake wove round the back of the cottage, and by the time she’d rounded the first corner of the safe house, they were in sight. And they weren’t alone.

  Tristan was walking awkwardly, his shoulder dipped low to allow Susanna to throw her arm around it. On her other side, doing the same hunched lope so that Susanna was effectively being held upright between the two of them, was Jack.

  Jack. They’d done it then, they’d got him back.

  Dylan rushed towards them, reaching the trio just as they navigated the last of the slope. This close, she could see that Tristan and Jack weren’t so much supporting Susanna as carrying her. She was ashen with pain, one leg trying to hop along, the other hanging uselessly. Tristan, too, looked pale, though a quick skim over him reassured Dylan that he wasn’t hurt.

  Jack looked… like someone had smacked him over the head. Hard. If he’d been a cartoon, he’d have had a ring of tweeting little birds circling above him.

  “You did it!” she gasped.

  “Inside,” Tristan said, jerking his head in the direction of the safe house. “We’ll talk there.”

  Dylan was desperate to know what had happened, but Susanna looked ready to drop, so she followed mutely behind as they limped the last few metres into the safe house.

  Dylan’s parents were already on their feet when they entered, so Tristan and Jack were able to lie Susanna down on the sofa. She reclined with a feeble whimper, her hand reaching down to grab at her bad leg. Jack immediately knelt by her side, clutching at her arm, his gaze fixed on her face.

  “This must be Jack, then,” Dylan’s dad said quietly. “You got him.”

  “We did,” Tristan answered. He turned to the hearth. “I’m going to start a fire. Susanna’s soaked and freezing.”

  “I’m all right,” Susanna mumbled weakly, but Tristan was already hunkered down in the fireplace and quickly had a blaze going.

  “We need to bind your leg,” he said, straightening up. “We don’t want the bone to knit out of alignment.”

  “Give her a minute,” Jack growled from the floor, but Susanna was nodding, using one trembling arm to heave herself up. Jack let her struggle for a moment before guiding her up with a low curse. “Let me,” he grumbled at her when she reached forward to start rolling her trouser leg up out of the way.

  “Thank you,” Susanna sighed. She looked like she wanted to lie back down, but she contented herself with leaning awkwardly against Jack’s shoulder while he used gentle hands to ease her jean leg as high above her knee as it would go. When he was finished, he put an arm around her and drew her into a hug, kissing the top of her head.

  Dylan blinked, astonished. She’d last seen Jack on the night the Inquisitor had passed judgement on them all. He’d been surly, aggressive, and he’d barely tolerated his ferryman. It was impossible to guess how long Jack and Susanna had spent trapped together in the wasteland – time passed differently here – but things had definitely changed between them.

  “This is going to be painful,” Tristan warned, stepping close. He’d found a length of fabric from somewhere, and Susanna was staring at it as if he held a weapon in his hands rather than a strip of cotton.

  “I know,” she said quietly, “but at least I won’t be doing it to myself this time.”

  She visibly braced as Tristan knelt beside her, then Dylan watched her squirm and grit her teeth as he started manipulating her lower leg.

  “You’re hurting her!” Jack growled. He looked like he wanted to shove Tristan away, but Susanna put a hand on his arm.

  “He has to do it,” she said. “My leg will heal pretty fast, but if the bone’s not right I’ll be hampered. That’s dangerous here.”

  Jack still didn’t look impressed. “Can’t he, I don’t know, knock you out with his ferryman powers or something?”

  “It’s fine, Jack.” She smiled at him then turned to Tristan. “Do it.”

  Dylan didn’t see Tristan move, but there was an audible ‘snick’ and Susanna cried out, clutching at Jack.

  “Sorry,” Tristan mumbled. He took the cloth and started wrapping it around Susanna’s leg.

  “No splint?” Joan asked from where she and James stood watching near the doorway. She was a nurse, and Dylan would have expected her to step forward and take charge, but the wasteland must have shaken her too much. She seemed content to let Tristan handle things. Dylan had to admit he worked like he knew what he was doing.

  Tristan shook his head. “The bone will mend so fast she won’t need it. She just needs to stay put for a couple of hours.”

  “It’s a broken leg!” Joan protested.

  “It’ll heal,” Tristan repeated.

  “It will, Mum,” Dylan added quietly, “I’ve seen it. They heal super-fast.”

  Tristan had been battered black and blue when he’d returned to her that day the first time they’d been here, and Dylan had been horrified. By the time morning came, though, there was nothing but some yellowed bruising and a little swelling.

  “Must be useful,” James said, trying to lift the tense atmosphere that had gathered in the tight space.

  “It is,” Tristan replied. He shot Susanna a sympathetic look. “Still hurts, though.”

  She smiled wanly, then turned to Jack and the smile widened at the same time as tears started pooling in her eyes. “It was worth it,” she whispered.

  They stared at each other, and Dylan had the feeling she was intruding on a very private, very personal moment. She switched her gaze to Tristan, who must have felt the same as he rolled to his feet and stepped back away from the pair.

  “You got him,” she said to him. “How?”

  “He came to Susanna,” he replied. “In the water, he came and helped her when the other wraiths were attacking.”

  Susanna had said that happened before, but Dylan hadn’
t really believed her; she didn’t think Tristan had either.

  “But was he Jack then, or was he a wraith?”

  “A wraith. We got him onto the boat, but he was suffocating. By the time we reached the shore, I was certain he wasn’t going to make it.”

  Tristan stared at the back of Jack’s head, shaking his head in wonder.

  “And?” Dylan prompted. “How did you get him back?”

  “I don’t know,” Tristan admitted. “It was Susanna.”

  Hearing her name, Susanna looked over towards them. “It wasn’t me,” she said. Her eyes went back to Jack as if she couldn’t bear to stop looking at him. “I didn’t do anything. I thought—” her voice died in her throat and she swallowed hard. “I thought he was gone. I thought I’d really lost him.”

  Jack made a strangled noise and gripped Susanna’s hands. Dylan could just make out the white-knuckled grip he had on her over his shoulder.

  “It was you,” he disagreed. He glanced behind him and seemed to realise that the whole room was listening to him with rapt attention. Dylan could see that it made him uncomfortable, and she waited for the Jack-explosion where he scowled and lashed out, but instead he shifted so that he could face them all, angling his body so he didn’t have to let go of Susanna. “I could see you, and I wanted to do what the rest of the wraiths were doing, I wanted to slice and bite at you, but there was something at the back of my head that remembered you, that said you were a friend, not an enemy. Not,” he gave her a sheepish grimace, “prey. I tried to help you, but it was like I didn’t have full control of my body. Every time I got close to you, it was harder and harder to fight the instinct to attack. And then, when you grabbed me, I couldn’t think at all.” He took a deep breath. “Did I hurt you?”

  “No,” Susanna replied at once. “You were just trying to survive, to escape. You didn’t hurt me.”

  Jack gave her a disbelieving look and turned over her hands, revealing the slashes and gouges in both of her palms. Her expression mulish, Susanna ripped her hands away and tucked them under her legs, wincing as the movement jostled her injury.

  “That was the other wraiths,” she asserted.

  “Sure it was,” Jack replied, though his tone said he clearly didn’t believe her.

  “What happened on the beach?” Tristan pressed. “How did you actually break free of the wraith’s body?”

  “I’m… I’m not sure.” Jack scrunched up his face in thought. “I could hear you singing,” he said to Susanna, whose face coloured beet-red, making Jack grin. “And then you were crying. I could feel it, where you were touching me. I could feel how sorry you were, how guilty you felt.” He dropped his voice, hunching his shoulders slightly against the rest of the room, his eyes glued to Susanna’s. “I could feel how much you cared about me…” He stopped to gather himself. “I took… I took a breath and it was like my chest tore open. The next thing I knew I had hands, and I was lying under you.” He paused, then turned to Tristan. “I don’t know how to explain it any better than that.”

  Tristan nodded, accepting Jack’s words, but frustration clouded his eyes. He hated not fully understanding just how Susanna and Jack had achieved it. Dylan could see him thinking it through, trying to unravel the mystery. Jack, however, had finished telling his tale, and his full attention went back to Susanna.

  “You came back for me,” he murmured to her.

  “I promised I would,” Susanna replied just as quietly.

  It was a private moment, and Dylan fought not to listen in, but she couldn’t help herself. The raw emotion on both their faces drew her like a drug.

  “I wouldn’t have left you there, in the water. I knew you’d be so afraid. And I promised. I said I’d get you across the line, and I’m going to.”

  There was a moment’s silence before Jack spoke, his voice cracking. “I wish you could come with me.”

  “I do, too.”

  At that point Dylan had to turn her back to everyone in the room. She was going to start crying, and she didn’t want anyone to see. Part of it was for Jack and Susanna, because she knew just how much the separation was going to hurt them both, could see that they’d grown incredibly close in their time together. Mostly, though, it was selfish. Because she and Tristan were going to face that same thing. A farewell, for ever.

  “Are you OK, angel?” Tristan’s arms wrapped around her from behind and he tugged her into a hug.

  “I’m fine,” she said, but the words came out a garbled mush. She sniffed, pulling back the tears. “I just don’t want to think about it, having to cross the line. Not yet.”

  Tristan squeezed her tighter, resting his chin on her shoulder. “Not yet,” he agreed.

  * * *

  The mood in the safe house was subdued after the drama of Jack’s arrival. Susanna lay flat out on the sofa, squashed towards the back of the cushions, while her leg healed. Jack had squashed himself into the remaining space, one arm acting as a pillow for Susanna, the other hanging on to her, as if he’d feared he’d slide right back into being a wraith if he let her go. Tristan had taken one of the stools and sat staring into the fire, his arms wrapped loosely around Dylan, who was balanced on his lap. Joan was on the only other chair, James leaning against the table.

  The space was much too small to hold six people, and it felt crowded and uncomfortable to Dylan. But it was too late in the day to step outside, and she had no desire to do the only other thing that would help the situation. She was on borrowed time, and part of her wanted to talk to her parents, say anything, while another part of her wanted to stay silent, here on Tristan’s knees, in the hope that time would stop moving altogether.

  She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, frozen, staring at her mum and dad as they stared back at her. Moments, maybe. Or years. But eventually Tristan breathed out a long sigh, drawing her attention.

  “I think it’s time,” he told her, speaking low enough that his words wouldn’t carry.

  “What?” Dylan grabbed at him, shaking her head. “No!”

  “Yes, angel.” Tristan placed his hand on her cheek, his eyes full of compassion. “Tomorrow we have to cross the lake. We can’t stay here.”

  “We can! We can stay here for ever if we want to! What’s going to stop us? We don’t need to eat, or drink.”

  “It’s dangerous,” Tristan disagreed. “Strange things have been happening in the wasteland. You heard Susanna say that a wraith got into a safe house. I want you out of here, safely across the line. And if you asked your parents, they’d say the same thing.”

  “Tristan, please!”

  “I’m sorry, Dylan. But I promised I would help you, and that’s what I’m going to do. Tomorrow we cross the lake.” He looked over towards her parents. “You need to say goodbye.”

  “Tomorrow,” Dylan whispered desperately. “I’ll do it in the morning, first thing. We have the whole night to go.”

  “No.” He said it gently, but the word cut Dylan like a knife.

  “What difference does it make?” Agitated, Dylan shifted on Tristan’s lap, trying to get away from him and his words, but he held her fast.

  “Do you remember the last time we crossed the lake?”

  Dylan stilled. Did she remember? Of course she did. A storm had whipped up and she’d tumbled out of the boat, into the water and the things that lurked there, ready to feast on any souls that toppled into their territory. She’d nearly drowned, and if Tristan hadn’t dived in to rescue her, she’d have suffered the same fate as Jack.

  Dylan shuddered, yanking in a breath against the tightness in her chest. She never, ever wanted to feel that drowning sensation ever again.

  Tristan nodded, as if he could read her thoughts. “Tomorrow, I need you to be calm. Centred. I don’t want to risk another storm whipping up. Dylan, angel, you aren’t going to be able to do that if you’ve just said goodbye to your parents. You need the night to grieve—”

  “It’s going to take more than just one night, Tristan,” Dyl
an retorted, fear and distress making her snap.

  “I know.” The tender way he held her and the sympathy in his voice made her anger die as quickly as it had surged. “But it’ll give you time let the pain flow. I’ll be here, Dylan.” He rubbed her back, pressed a kiss to her temple. “I’ll be here for you.”

  For now.

  Dylan pushed that thought away, because she couldn’t acknowledge it and breathe, not when she knew that Tristan was right.

  “OK,” she said, gathering herself and standing up. “OK.”

  It took four steps to cross the tiny floorspace of the safe house and stand before her parents. Each step was like hauling herself through quicksand, her feet dragging, her steps as heavy as her heart.

  She stopped just outside touching distance, then made herself shuffle forwards a single step more.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Susanna and Jack. Selfishly, she wished they weren’t here. This was a private moment, and she didn’t want anyone to intrude, but then, Jack and Susanna’s heartfelt reunion had played out in full view of everyone, and they were so wrapped up in being reunited that they seemed to hardly realise anyone else existed in the space. Dylan could feel Tristan moving closer behind her in silent support, but he stayed far back enough to give her space. To make this final moment between Dylan and her parents be just that. The three of them, a family for the last time in a long, long time: the rest of her parents’ lives.

  “Are you all right, Dylan?” her dad asked.

  No, she wasn’t all right.

  “Tristan thinks—” she broke off. That wasn’t fair, laying it on him. “We think…”

  She couldn’t do this. The words died on her lips and she just stood there, helplessly. A tear slipped free, then another.

  “It’s time, then,” Joan whispered. She reached out and grabbed James’s hand, clinging to it. “Time to say goodbye.”

  “For a little while,” James amended.

  A long while, Dylan hoped – though a secret, selfish part of her wanted to keep her parents with her, take them over the line with her right now. She beat it back. Giving them a chance to live was why she was here, why she was surrendering Tristan. He was giving up everything to give her parents this chance, Dylan couldn’t make that sacrifice worthless.