Boundary

by Mary Victoria Johnson

  I sank to the floor, not even breathing. It had to be another trial. It had to be! This wasn’t supposed to happen in real life… In plain view, lolling horribly on a table, was a body.

  Someone I loved dearly, dead. Lost forever.

  13

  The estate died a little bit too that day. What had hours ago been a beautiful watercolor of trees in a lush forest turned against itself, curling into a deadened state that was normally never seen until after the first frost. It became barren of the vibrancy I’d grown to love; even the emerald lawns dulled to a pale yellowy shade, and the manor house itself appearing to darken. The sunshine left us and was replaced with a heavy fog with dreary drizzle, which never let up. No color, no laughter, no life. Only sadness.

  I felt a single tear leak down my cheek. It streamed down my face and left a dark spot on the shoulder of my mourning gown. We were all dressed entirely in black, fitting perfectly into this new, melancholy mood.

  The tombstone seemed awfully insignificant. It was meant to represent the entire life of a very dynamic, wonderful individual who had meant so much more to me than this piece of cold, hard granite.

  How could a lifeless marker and blandly inscribed words be all that was left? It was cruel, really, a reminder of death in a place from which we could never escape. It would haunt me forever, and I would never be able to get away from the memories it held. Not ever.

  We stood side by side in the rain, cheeks dampened by both tears of grief and the down-pouring spray, faces washed out by the stark black of our clothing.

  Each of us held a single, withered rhododendron bloom in our hands, the only flowers that still appeared somewhat alive after the estate had begun to crumble.

  Well, all of us except Him.

  I had been surprised when He had appeared at our farewell. I suppose He must have been the one who had sanctioned the burial in the first place and created the headstone, but it was still shocking to see Him standing beside us in such a fashion, even if He seemed thoughtful instead of upset.

  “Lay down the flowers,” he instructed liltingly, as if He had almost forgotten and was amused by the notion.

  I cupped the pale pink blossom tenderly, waiting for my turn to lay it down at the foot of the grave. Soft, simple, a fading beauty with potential to light up every aspect of the manor…it was a near perfect representation of her personality. I stroked the engraved name as I bent down, trying my very hardest not cry in front of Him.

  IN MEMORY OF BEATRIX FARRINGTON

  I had never known her last name, never even considered that she even had one. I knew about how they were used to identify different people with the same given names in real society, but assumed Beatrix would be exempt from this queer rule, having lived here for such a long time.

  There were many things I had never asked her, and now I wouldn’t get the chance.

  “Thank you for everything,” I whispered as if she could hear me. “And sorry for my prying…I hope wherever you are, you can forgive me.”

  I choked on the last few words, wiping my eyes as I stood back to let Lucas have his moment.

  I was consumed by a heart-wrenching guilt that I had somehow caused Beatrix’s death because I had coerced her into telling me forbidden secrets and left her at the mercy of the Master.

  She hadn’t been bluffing about her son’s capacity for murdering as punishment. I was certain He had killed her; there was no other logical explanation. Beatrix’s body hadn’t been marked in any way, but the petrified grimace etched on her face had said everything.

  “Why?” I found myself asking, my hands covering my face, my voice wavering with inconsolable sadness.

  “You know why, Penny,” He replied emotionlessly, and I jumped. “Because she was no more than a filthy traitor, breaking an oath she swore her life on. If I couldn’t trust her, what use was she to me anymore?”

  “She was your—” I began, too stricken to think about who I was talking too.

  Before I could finish, I felt my body go rigid. I couldn’t move a muscle! My eyes widened at Him, desperately wishing one of my friends would turn around and see my predicament, though they all seemed suspiciously preoccupied with staring at Beatrix’s gravestone.

  He turned deliberately towards me, face without a trace of feeling.

  “Do you know what the rhododendron means?” He asked, almost casually. I couldn’t even shake my head, completely paralyzed. “Every flower has a message, you see, almost like a language. These mean ‘beware.’ It’s not a coincidence that they are the only flowers still alive on the estate, because they are here to deliver an important lesson to you all. I suggest you take heed, unless you want to be the next grave in my collection.”

  He turned back to face the tombstone, and I felt movement return as my friends suddenly lost interest in the stone.

  My heart pounded, my head filled with a deep loathing for the Master. I wanted Him to suffer, to feel all the pain He had caused me the entire extent of my childhood, to be the one in fear of me for once.

  It was a bitter dream, an impossible one.

  For all I could do was stand in submissive silence and cry soundless tears for all I had lost and would never get back.

  “It wasn’t your fault, you know,” Tressa said abruptly, glancing up from her sketchpad. “I can tell you blame yourself. Don’t.”

  “How can I not?” I cried in despair. “If I hadn’t pestered her into telling me all those secrets, then the Master wouldn’t have killed her for breaking that oath. Beatrix would still be alive if it wasn’t for me.”

  “When things like this happen, all people want is someone to blame. I’m the same; but it’s the Master who dealt the fatal blow, not you.”

  “But he wouldn’t have if she hadn’t helped me,” I argued. “And what for?”

  We were sitting in the common room again, dressed still in our black clothes and trying fruitlessly to avert our minds from the tragedy at hand. The fire had spluttered out, and despite the heavy material of my shawl I felt chilly.

  “Do you regret it?” Lucas asked abruptly, to everyone’s surprise. He rarely ever entered our bickering, even when it got serious. “I don’t mean her death, I mean being nosy and stumbling on all those secrets. Are you happier with the shot we have, or would you have preferred no danger but no chance?”

  I knew the answer as soon as he said it, but felt selfish about it. What kind of terrible person was I, placing my own interests above the lives of others?

  “No.” I hung my head, ashamed. “I can’t honestly say that I would take it back in normal circumstances. But if I’d have known somebody would die because of it, then of course I would have.”

  Lucas nodded as if that explained everything, and returned to gazing out of the paned window into the stormy sky outside.

  It was lucky that the common room faced onto the opposite side of the gardens to where Beatrix’s grave was located, or I would probably have been fixated to it wherever I went.

  I rested my now nearly healed head on a pillow, thinking in the back of my mind I should find something to distract myself with, such as sketching pictures like Tressa, or at least talking like Evelyn and Fred. I just couldn’t find the energy, though. I felt utterly drained.

  “What do we do now?” Tressa inquired after a painful hour or so of silence. “I’m…beyond words about Beatrix, I never thought that she would ever… She seemed immortal somehow.” She paused to wipe her eyes.

  “We can’t mourn forever,” Avery said in monotone, looking up from where he had been dozing in his armchair with a gaunt face. “I agree with Tressa some actions need to be taken.”

  “Actions?” Fred raised an eyebrow warily.

  “You expect us to let the Master get away with this?” Tressa snapped. I saw her fist tightly clenching her charcoal stick; her eyes alight with a fierce determination fired by the inconsolable sorrow that consumed us all.

  “Um, yes?” Evelyn replied tentatively. “Like it or not, you canno
t expect to challenge Him, Tressa, that’s pure insanity! Tell me you’re not serious?”

  Tressa said nothing, setting her jaw and sharing a meaningful glance with Avery.

  “Whatever happened to sticking together?” I frowned. “Let’s not add any more drama to what’s already happened. I assure you I could quite cheerfully lop His head off with a butter knife right now, but let’s try to wait until mourning is over before doing anything brash. Out of respect to Beatrix, if nothing else.”

  It was one of the most reasonable things I had ever said, and despite my devastation, I felt a momentary flush of pride. Beatrix would have been pleased with my cool-headedness.

  Tressa and Avery, however, appeared to disagree. Tressa refused to meet anyone’s eyes but Avery’s, moving her lips in silent speech, which I strained to understand to no avail. Avery nodded with a stony face, flicking me a deliberate glare.

  Fred had noticed their suspicious, excluding charade with an unease which mirrored mine. Though he alone seemed to have picked up the duo’s telepathic plot, I had a niggling feeling that it wouldn’t stay underground for long. If there were two people I wouldn’t bet against, it would be Tressa and Avery.

  Then something else caught my eye. Evelyn, sitting beside Fred, gave a dainty sigh of weariness at the whole thing and moved so that her head rested on his shoulder. It shouldn’t have been anything out of the ordinary, except that the way she did it seemed much too intimate, somehow, for friends. And that look of surprise and then silly happiness on Fred’s face did nothing to alleviate my suspicion. Did you see the way Fred looked at me?

  “Gross,” I heard Avery hiss in disgust, plopping his tiny frame heavily down beside me. “With all that’s going on right now, you’d think they would act more appropriately.”

  “I know,” I rolled my eyes. “But it’s all innocent. B-Beatrix always used to joke that this day was coming.”

  “What, that everybody would go crazy?” Avery shook his head scornfully. “Honestly, ever since He killed Beatrix all I’ve wanted is to do something instead of waiting for the next disaster, and suddenly they want to just sit back and enjoy the ride! I thought you were the one who wanted to fight for freedom?”

  “Unless you have some brilliant idea that will both ensure our safety and beat the trials, I don’t think anyone wants to hear it right now,” I retorted. “If breaking the rules turns out like this, then maybe it isn’t such a good idea after all.”

  I bit my lip, stopping. Deep down I hated sitting around too, but I was scared of what else the Master had in store for us. Losing Beatrix was crippling, and it didn’t bear thinking about what might happen if one of my friends got hurt too. What was freedom worth, when we had everything to lose?

  Fred then appeared to join our debate, a silly smile slapped onto his jovial face. Avery’s face remained impassive, but I could feel the scorn radiating off him in waves.

  “Hello, you lot! Cheerful, aren’t we?” Fred greeted us happily.

  “Considering Beatrix died three days ago, I would have to go with not really,” I said sullenly, flicking a glance over to where Evelyn had fallen asleep on the window seat.

  “Ah.” Fred paled, bowing his head. “I’m so sorry, I’m not thinking straight. I was just wondering what you were arguing about?”

  “Just discussing tactics,” Avery cut in smoothly, every inch of his body language indicating that Fred should go away and leave us to squabble by ourselves.

  “So you agree we should let time tell, Penny?” he inquired of me, oblivious to Avery’s antisocial mood.

  “Not exactly,” I replied awkwardly. “I think we should certainly take action, just not now. Not violently.”

  “I’ll drink to that.” Fred sighed. “Lucas and Evelyn have agreed with me that staying quite out of it is the best thing to do. No action, no consequence, right?”

  “When you all die, don’t expect me to wear this stupid drab black to every one of your funerals,” Avery remarked darkly.

  For a moment, I thought Fred was actually going to snap at that comment, but then Tressa blessedly decided she was bored.

  “I’m going outside for a walk! Evelyn, want to— Oh!” She was interrupted by snoring. “Penny, then?”

  “Sure.” I jumped away from Avery and Fred without a backwards glance.

  We made a quick stop in the girls’ chamber for black shawls, mittens, bonnets, and a large black umbrella to shelter us from the freezing downpour outside.

  I hurried down the grand staircase a little ways behind Tressa, fumbling with the thick satin ribbon underneath my chin. Then we linked arms underneath the umbrella and waded out into the spitting rain, ducking as it pounded the fabric like a dozen drums.

  Water saturated the brittle grass so that large puddles of muddy rain had begun to form, and huge splashes from the overhanging roof made walking near the house a veritable hazard, so we opted for the higher grounds midway between manor and woods.

  “Ghastly weather, is it not?” Tressa noted loudly over the sound of rain pitter-pattering overhead. “And everything else seems so bleak! Perhaps Beatrix was the one who maintained the prettiness here. Maybe that was what her powers were for.”

  “Maybe.” I shrugged vaguely, not wanting to talk about her at the moment. “By the way, what’s going on with you and Avery? Plotting, much?”

  “Nothing at all. What an idea!” Tressa scoffed, absently pulling a tassel on her shawl straight. “We’re both worried that if we do nothing, we’re more at risk of the Master dominating us now Beatrix is…gone. Now, could we change the subject? How has your head been these past few days? I understand you haven’t been given the salve since…”

  “Healed,” I said shortly, gazing at the flickering lights twinkling warmly from the upstairs common room.

  I was beginning to regret coming outside into the miserable weather and awkward small talk. We lapsed into an uncertain silence, squelching along the muddy ground arm-in-arm.

  “Have you seen Evelyn and Fred?” I gossiped, improvising. “Do you think they like each other? It came on very quickly, but I guess the death reinstated the live-for-today mindset…”

  “Oh, come now,” Tressa chided, and grinned. “I find it rather sweet! Evelyn has always been such a romantic, and Fred is ever such a gentleman with her – they complement each other perfectly, though I doubt they’d ever admit it to one another!”

  I wrinkled my nose. The whole topic was very alien to me, and the old-fashioned values I had been taught still found it slightly improper. Still, it did give one something to discuss other than death.

  “He is barely her height!” I criticized, half-enjoying the merriment and half actually putting them down.

  “Ha, true! But Bea— I mean, I’ve heard that girls grow faster than boys up to a certain point, then he’ll catch her up again!” Tressa laughed gaily. Then her face turned serious. “I’m sorry, I can’t help but wonder… What are you planning to do now, Penny? Having been the one to start the tests in the first place, I assumed you knew precisely what you were doing and had the whole thing thought out. I know I’m being silly, but I have this feeling that if we leave these tests and the Master up to their own devices then none of us will succeed. I think maybe Avery is right and the offensive has to be taken.”

  “Urgh,” was my genius response. It was all so complicated, and my most knowledgeable confidant was gone for good. What was my plan? Nada. Zilch. Nothing whatsoever. I would take the trials as they came at me, and hope for the best.

  “I hate it when he’s right,” she muttered under her breath, abruptly turning away from me and storming off towards the manor. I didn’t know what she meant, and at the moment, I didn’t want to.

  I didn’t think that planning was a good idea at the present time. Yet something in Tressa’s unimpressed expression had told me she thought otherwise.

  14

  Finally. It was over. Looking at the two dead bodies on the ground, he felt curiously empty. Relief at not h
aving to chase anymore, and relief that nobody on his side had gotten hurt, but he saw none of the triumph on the others’ faces. He was only eighteen, many years younger than the rest of them, yet he’d been allowed to come along due to his aptitude in such matters.

  “Here, hold this,” somebody said, thrusting the bundle of rags into his hands. “You deserve it. If you hadn’t found this shack when you did, we’d still be on the road!”

  He nodded mutely. He knew what was inside, but there was something more savage about what they’d done when you gave the thing a face. It was a baby, of course, only months old. He watched, transfixed with a sinking knot in his stomach as the baby wriggled in its sleep, jamming a fat fist shiny with drool into an untroubled place. It had no idea both its parents had just been murdered.

  An older man materialized beside him and snatched the child away, and he felt a deep discomfort begin to well up inside of him. It was not a good thing; feeling like this would only get him removed from the position or even punished, but he couldn’t help it. There was only one reason that the team would want this baby so badly, and it had nothing to do with love. He knew where the child’s future lay and what it would become.

  As he reminisced the dreaming infant, he realized the poor baby would never stand a chance.

  “Against what?” I murmured, rolling over onto my side.

  The sound of my voice woke me with a jolt, and I fell with a thud out of bed and onto the floor in a messy heap of pillows and duvet covers. Wearily, I hiked my bedclothes back onto the mattress, fingers crossed that I hadn’t woken Evelyn or Tressa.

  I lay on my back and stared wide-eyed at the distant ceiling, flexing my stiff limbs, now fully awake.

  The bundle had been a baby! It hadn’t come as an enormous surprise, since part of me had always thought that a child was probably one of the only things a woman would die for without question. Now all that remained was who each of the characters were.