Alice’s horrified consciousness struggled to free itself from the fading shreds of thought and feeling that had once been Ned, desperate to escape before she too was irreversibly absorbed into the rock. Father! she screamed. There was a moment’s suspension, as if all the protons and electrons of every atom holding the wall solid had lost their charge.
The Alice who was bound up in her father’s small eddy-pool of the space-time continuum winked out of existence and gradually, inevitably, the twenty-first-century Alice, whose birthday was September 8, took hold of her consciousness, reassembled herself, and opened her eyes.
It was several minutes before she could move her fingers and toes and process fully where she was. The sensation of Dawg licking her hand finally brought her around, and she hugged his neck, breathing his doggy smell. Drained, she sat unmoving, the monstrous book of her ancestor still open in her lap as tears fell on Dawg’s fur in silent lament for Ned, whom she’d found and lost in the blink of a cosmic eye.
Unsteady, Alice crawled to the pile of dry leaves and newspaper. Opening the box of matches, she set the paper on fire and nursed the blaze until it burned high enough to heat her face. Then she reached for the notebook. She tore the book apart and fed it to the flames page by page until it was completely gone. She then tossed the shoebox in as well.
Alice shivered, her skin freezing, and leaned as close to the flames as she dared. The sun was setting by the time she smothered the fire with dirt and kicked the remaining ashes around to make sure no coals remained. Then she knelt down and hugged Dawg around his shaggy neck.
“Thanks for sticking with me,” she croaked, her throat scratchy and dry.
Wiping her eyes, she stood, gathered up the beach towel, and then stopped. There was no pain in her foot. She knelt down and unwrapped the bandages, holding her breath. What had been a ragged red and purple wound was now faint and disappearing. She touched the spot with trembling fingers and found the skin oddly cool instead of fevered. Are you really gone, then? she wondered. Tucking the beach towel under her arm, Alice headed toward the trail, walking swiftly along the path at first and then breaking into a run as she saw the outline of the house through the trees. Dawg galloped ahead of her, announcing their return in joyful yelps as he spotted Nik and Margaret leaning over the deck railing.
“Mom,” Margaret called, ““Where’ve you been? Why are you running?”
“We were about to go look for you,” said Nik, coming down the stairs to meet her.
Alice dropped the beach towel and flung her arms around him.
“Hej, what’s this for?” he said, hugging her back.
Alice let go of him and collapsed onto the steps, holding her head in her hands. She’d gone in search of the truth, but the breadth of it was more than she could process.
Nik sat down beside her. “What’s wrong? You seemed all right this morning.”
Tears blurred her vision, but Alice blinked them back. She was done crying. “I went down to the pond, and burned Harrow’s notebook. It’s gone now.”
Margaret slid down beside her.
“Before I burned it, I used it.”
“Oh shit,” Margaret yelped. “Kinigar warned me.”
“I’ll explain, if you promise to just listen and not judge.”
Nik’s eyes tightened around the corners, but he nodded.
“Tell,” breathed Margaret.
Alice held out her hands. “My fingers got numb while I was holding the book. I wondered if Ned had felt the same, and in the next breath I was out of my body. I saw … and felt what happened to Ned in Australia. He fought the Quinkan in an underground cavern. They were both… I don’t know how to describe it… transformed by some Aboriginal sorcery that was down there, painted on the wall. I was in his body, so I experienced his death.”
“Mom.” Margaret’s eyes were black pools.
Alice plowed on. “Ned did something that may explain why the Quinkan won’t go away. He didn’t know how to undo what had been done by Harrow, who was his grandfather, so he took the Quinkan inside the rock wall with him, to trap it there forever, I guess. But I see now that it bound the thing even more tightly to his bloodline. So when Harrow materialized in this world again, the Quinkan came with him. Ned almost got it right about breaking the binding spell—but not quite.”
Alice took a deep breath and bowed her head. She wondered how long it would take Margaret to figure out the dark shaman who’d terrorized them both was her great-great-grandfather. She decided to shelve that little shocker for another day, when she had the strength. Right now, she’d gone as far as she could.
“I don’t even care if you believe me or not,” she said, “I know what I saw. While I’m at it, I may as well tell you what really happened in Gull Harbor. The Quinkan killed Hal. It was up in the attic when I got there.”
She looked at Nik, but he was silent, his face neutral, which was to be expected. At least he didn’t get up and walk away.
“I have a confession, too,” said Margaret. “I saw the Quinkan at camp, but I didn’t tell anybody. I thought it wouldn’t be a good idea, but now I wish I had. And I channeled for the first time, too. Kini says it probably runs in the family, being psychic like that. It might go all the way back to your dad.”
“Further,” Alice said, the horror of the cave playing again in her mind.
She cut her eyes at Nik. “Your thoughts?”
Nik studied the backs of his hands. “I need to say up front that I can’t make myself believe in Quinkans or Dreamtime magic. I just can’t. But I’ll listen. I don’t want to be left out.”
Alice leaned against him. “Fair enough. I know you’re not a believer. I wouldn’t be either if I hadn’t seen these things myself. As long as you want to be with me, and Margaret, that’s all I ask.”
They sat on the steps, a silent trio, until Alice finally said, “What I really want is access to a bona fide Aboriginal shaman, one of those shriveled old senior men who lives in the Outback and knows everything about the Dreamtime and how it manifests in the here and now. Fat chance. They’ve all been wiped out by white man’s culture.”
“No, they haven’t. I know somebody who knows one,” said Margaret, her eyes bright. “I’ll e-mail him tonight, if you want.”
Alice looked from Margaret to Nik. “What are you talking about?”
Margaret blushed to the roots of her hair. “I told you. His name is Kinigar, and he’s wicked cool. Somebody in his family, an uncle I think, is one of those senior dudes.”
Alice stared at Margaret and for once in her life was entirely speechless. Whatever else Margaret had done at camp, she had grown up, and Alice had been so wrapped up in her own drama she’d failed to see it.
“Yes,” she said, “I would like to meet your Kinigar. If he could find me an Aboriginal man or woman who’s willing to share Dreamtime knowledge with a stranger, I’d be beyond grateful.” She had so many questions that needed answers. She knew the cave where Ned died was a mortuary chamber, full of dark sorcery. From those brief moments in Ned’s consciousness, she’d gleaned that a clan object, an oval stone, had been stolen from there. Ned had searched for it and never found it, but she was beginning to think she knew where it was. The image of the church floor plan with its four cornerstones was sharp in her mind. Did she have the courage to go there and dig?
“I know you’ll love him,” Margaret was saying. “Kini’s just… total win.”
Alice pulled her thoughts away from caves and totems, and gave Margaret her full attention. “And just how much about all this did you tell this boy?”
Margaret’s eyes were shining. “Everything.”
“Did you know about this?” Alice turned to Nik.
Nik shook his head. “But my intuition tells me it’s okay.”
Alice leaned against him. “You don’t have intuitions. That’s my job.” She relaxed a notch, daring to think he might be right.
Margaret got up and faced them. “Well, now that’s sett
led, can we go eat?” Alice startled. In the failing light Margaret’s eyes were wide and black. “I’m sooooo hungry.”
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