It made sense.
‘Aidan, I’m sorry,’ she added. ‘About keeping you in the dark like that, but especially for saying those things tonight. I didn’t mean any of it.’
‘I know that.’
‘Not one word.’
‘Not even one?’ I smiled and kissed her forehead. ‘Listen, I have to know. Why would you give up all this power? Everything Kinvara promised you. Immortality, I mean … It’s a lot to lose.’
Sláine frowned, annoyed. ‘I told you. Because I love you, you moron. What, is that so hard to believe?’
I smiled again, taken aback at how simple things often were, underneath everything. When you stripped away the horseshit and melodrama. When you stopped overanalysing and started feeling and living.
‘No,’ I said. ‘Not hard at all.’
I stretched my back and gazed at the twinkling panorama of the night sky while Sláine told me that Sioda – Mr Smooth Operator, who in reality was a bundle of nerves – had arrived shortly before I did, apparently invited by Joseph. Little did he know what his demented brother was cooking up. Little did he know about any of it. I’d have to apologise again for suspecting him.
She must have read my mind because Sláine said, ‘Go back and check on that man. Make sure he’s all right.’
‘What’re we going to tell him? To explain all this. Explain – you.’
‘I don’t know. Just make sure he hasn’t done anything. To himself.’
Sláine embraced me again and I could feel that something had changed, a hesitation in her beaming out like radiation. I thought I knew what she had to say and why she didn’t want to voice it. I definitely knew I didn’t want to hear it, but I forced myself to speak anyway: ‘Go on. Tell me.’
‘I have to go away for a while. I’m sorry.’
‘Okay.’
‘I’m not sure why. I just … it’s something I need to do. Be by myself.’
‘Okay.’
‘Is it?’
I smiled sadly. ‘Not really. How long? Do you know?’
‘I don’t.’ She looked at me with regret. ‘It’s not like before. This is more … I can’t describe it. It’s like I have to find myself again, or something. Let some process of transformation take place, give it space to breathe. Be alone, and sort of … There’s no point trying to explain it. I don’t understand it myself. But it won’t be forever. I will come back.’
‘Ha. Okay.’
‘Aidan, I’m so sorry for everything,’ she said again. ‘All these bad things that’ve happened to you, it’s because of me.’
She was crying once more. I wiped an icy tear from her cheek and said, ‘And every good thing, Sláine. Every good thing is you.’
We smiled at each other for a long time under the thin moonlight, the whole forest hushed as though paying its respects to the moment.
Finally Sláine said, ‘Will you wait for me?’
I laughed. ‘What? What kinda dumb question is that? You know I will.’
She laughed too. ‘I will come back to you. I will.’
‘I know that. And I’ll be here waiting. As long as it takes.’
‘I love you, Aidan Flood. Endless, boundless.’
She kissed me again, ferociously. I was drowning in it, dizzy with it all.
‘I love you too,’ I said. ‘Ever, forever, the size of a universe.’
Then she whispered, ‘Hearts talking across life and death,’ kissed me one last time and with a rush of cold air was gone.
Goodbye, my love. Goodbye, my dream, my ghost, my guardian angel.
No, not goodbye. Farewell. Until we meet again. We will.
I hiked back to the lodge, further than I thought – I guess we’d run pretty quickly. I didn’t quite know what to expect when I got there, but it hadn’t much changed. Joseph Kinvara’s charred remains still face down in the snow, the sight of them turning my stomach. Sioda still inside the room, although he’d moved back to the bed. The armchair was gutted but no longer aflame. Thankfully, the fire hadn’t spread any further.
Sioda was lamping into a bottle of wine he’d found – another super-expensive brand Sláine had purloined somewhere – and looked drunk, red-eyed, torn up. But his speech wasn’t slurred when he saw me and said, ‘You.’
I eased inside and found my tobacco.
‘The boy from the library,’ he went on. ‘Mr Flood.’
Sitting on a stool, I made myself a cigarette, keeping a close watch on the man opposite.
‘Bravo,’ Sioda said, taking another generous swallow. ‘Bravo.’
Was he being sarcastic? I’d been involved in killing his brother, and what was that he’d said about loyalty to family … ? I tensed.
‘It had to be done,’ he said faintly. ‘He had to die, and I didn’t have the balls to do it. Didn’t have the heart. He was family. But Joseph was evil. I see that now.’ Another drink. I lit my smoke. ‘I never realised the full extent of what he was doing. Thought he was just playing around with all that black magic rubbish. I love old books myself, but only as a reader. Never thought he took them seriously. Never thought that stuff was … Jesus.’
He had a look of utter disbelief, presumably not for the first time. The mind sometimes refuses to accept what the senses show it.
‘Am I to blame?’ Sioda said. ‘I’ve always supported him, indulged him … Joseph wanted to move to this town, we moved. He asked me to check out such-and-such a library book, I did it. He spent his life skulking in the shadows – he avoided everyone – Christ, he’d even leave the house when the cleaner was due to call around – and I ignored his strange behaviour, no questions asked. Worse, I made it possible. Made all this … ’
He looked at his hands as if there were actual blood on them. The moment of intense anguish passed, for now. Sioda smiled warmly and said, ‘It’s almost funny – how you thought it was me.’
‘Yeah. That. Listen, I gotta apologise. I was way off.’
He flapped a hand, dismissing my regrets. ‘Not at all, I can see why you thought it. The clues sort of added up there, didn’t they? I’m … an eccentric man, in some ways.’
‘Hey, why’d you call the house ColdStar? That totally struck me as a reference to – you know. This.’
Sioda smiled bashfully. ‘Name of a racehorse I had a share in. Doesn’t mean anything. I just liked the sound.’
‘You really didn’t know the house once belonged to William McAuley?’
‘Never heard of the man until tonight. Coincidence, I suppose?’
‘Okay. And why’d you employ my dad?’
‘Another coincidence.’
‘Or “bravo”, telling me to check it out. It means “wicked stranger”. Thought that was a clue too.’
‘All coincidence,’ he said. ‘Life is full of them. Didn’t Jung or someone say everything is connected, every mind and event, through the great collective unconscious … ’ His voice faded, embarrassed. ‘Or maybe … like Joseph thought. Maybe it was destined.’
I said, ‘Why did you invite me to your house that day? I thought it was a trap … ’
Sioda scowled at me. ‘I told you, I’m no pederast.’
I said hurriedly, ‘I know. I didn’t mean it like that. But looking back, when I thought it was you … I reckoned you were planning to … tie me up, kill me, feed to me to this bloody demon.’
He sighed. ‘I offered the use of my library because I knew your family was … ’
I finished his sentence: ‘Poor?’
He seemed more ill at ease than me. ‘Yes. I knew your parents didn’t have a lot of money. For books and so on. I figured you’d get something out of it.’
‘I would have. That was good of you.’
Sioda stood, swaying slightly. ‘No – ’twas my little brother all along. You had the wrong man, Mr Flood … He’d been stalking you for a while. He told me so, this evening. Said he met you on the road outside town, little while back?’
I nodded. I remembered. So that was Joseph. No wo
nder my Spidey-sense was tingling.
‘Saw you pass our house, got in his car – my car – and followed you. Hid the car, then walked towards you. Wanted to get up nice and close. And you know why? It amused him. He admitted this, like it was all a big joke … ’ Sioda abruptly changed direction. ‘Is she your sweetheart, that lass who was here earlier? You’re a lucky young man. She’s one hell of a girl.’ He took a swig from the bottle and laid it on the ground. ‘All the best to you, Aidan Flood. Give my regards to your dad.’
A chill ran through me as I saw he now held the gun. Did he have it all along … ? His thumb stroked the hammer which, I registered nervously, was cocked. Bad news. What did he think he wanted to do with that?
‘Mr Kinvara,’ I said softly. ‘Do you … you wanna give me that?’
He ignored me and stepped outside, half staggering, gun swinging, a vaguely ape-like motion. The moonlight seemed brighter. Sioda moved towards it like an actor stepping into the spotlight. I gingerly stood and followed at a distance, anxiously awaiting his next act. The entire night waited, breath held.
That silence was broken by a hideous screech: the collection of burned flesh and black ash that used to be Joseph Kinvara, who I’d assumed was dead, suddenly lurched to its feet and came reeling towards me. He must have been in unbelievable pain, hardly conscious any more, driven by muscle memory and undistilled hatred of me. His blackened skin crackled as he lumbered across the snow, arms outstretched like a mummy, rasping, ‘Kill you … kill you … ruined all … Aidan Flood … ’
I stared, aghast at this fresh madness. Would I have snapped out of it in time to crack him on the head with the bottle, or dial 999 and shimmy up the nearest tree to wait for the cavalry?
It didn’t matter. The gun cracked, twice, three times, five, six, as Sioda unloaded that revolver into his brother. Two to the head, pretty much blowing it apart. More to the body. Joseph dropped like a sack of shit. This time he really was kaput.
Sioda let the weapon fall, still smoking, sizzling into the snow. He said flatly, ‘I love you, Joseph.’ Then he walked off, nary a word or gesture to me, swallowed by the gaping black maw of the forest. I somehow knew he wouldn’t be seen alive again. Only death could offer him peace now.
Alone once more but not lonely. I located my phone and texted Podsy: ALL OK I THINK. YOU CAN DESTROY LETTER – EVRYTING GONN BE FINE. A
I tapped my parka, searching for smokes, and hit the famous locket once more. I’ll do it now, I vowed – put in two pictures, me and Sláine. Maybe ask her mother for a nice photo on some vague pretence. Find something half-decent of me.
My phone beeped: message from Podsy. OKAY … GREAT. PS EH EH EH … DONT KILL ME. I ALREADY READ IT. SORRY, CURIOSITY GOT BETTER OF ME.
Ha. Cheeky little fecker. I texted back: YER ALL RIGHT. SO? THINK I’M CRAZY NOW PROBLY.
NO. MORE IN HEAVEN AND EARTH, HORATIO ETC ETC … STRANGE STUFF THO. MUCH TO DISCUSS.
AGREED. NIGHT, PODS.
U TOO. NIGHT TO HERSELF ALSO :)
I felt a squeeze of pain in my heart. I ached to be with Sláine. I knew I couldn’t for now, and that made me sick inside.
But suck it up, soldier. Tough it out. Endure. Wait for her, as you promised.
I replaced the phone and zipped up my parka. I didn’t have a cap but that didn’t matter because I had warmth enough and this would do and I walked back to our Ancient Greek amphitheatre and found a soft spot and it was dry enough too and then I lay down and drew my arms closer to myself and pulled that locket out of my jacket and held it near to my heart with awkward frozen fingers and settled down to wait for Sláine’s return.
My eyes cast around in the darkness and landed on a white shape, tiny against the black-green moss. A snowdrop, struggling to escape the ground, gasping for life. Reaching for it. Making it.
The thaw was coming. It’d take a while but now that Joseph Kinvara and his demon were gone, I knew the cold weather would disappear too.
You did it, Sláine. You saved the world. You saved me.
Tears filled my eyes, tears of sadness and longing, tears in her absence, yet I smiled, happier than I’d ever been. I will see her again, I told myself. I will. I’ll lie under the dark pines for as long as it takes, and wait for her to come back to me.
And I thought, yes, I’ll wait for you here, Sláine. As long as it takes …
in the cold and the blackness I’ll lie here …
in our place in the pines I’ll wait for you and …
shiver the whole night through.
Read the book – and listen to the soundtrack
I’ve done up a Spotify playlist for Shiver the Whole Night Through. It’s the music I listened to while writing the book, or that inspired it in some way. Music that I felt chimed well with the tone and mood of Shiver; that complemented the story, or expressed something inexpressible about the characters and themes. Music with a chilly, brittle, spooky or melancholy feel. Music that sounded like a strange, eerie nursery rhyme or lullaby. Music that captured the novel’s wintry vibe. I guess I see the playlist as a sort of soundtrack to the book, so you can use it as an accompaniment to your reading, making the whole experience more … cinematic, for want of a better word.
It’s a cool little add-on, an aural embellishment. Listen to it here by typing http://bit.ly/shiverthewholenight into your web browser.
Hope you enjoy both the book and the soundtrack,
Darragh
(P.S. You’ll need Spotify for it to work … )
Darragh McManus
Darragh McManus is an author, journalist, playwright and screenwriter. Shiver the Whole Night Through is his first Young Adult book. He has previously published two crime novels: a vigilante thriller called Even Flow (2012) and noir-style mystery The Polka Dot Girl (2013). His first book was the humorous non-fiction GAA Confidential (2007), and he released a comic novel, Cold! Steel! Justice!!!, as an e-book under the name Alexander O’Hara (2011).
For more than a decade Darragh has written reviews, features and opinion columns for several papers, including the Irish Independent, the Sunday Times and the Guardian. Several short stories have appeared in literary journals, in Ireland, the UK and the US. He’s also written a play, which has had cast readings in Manhattan and Belfast and will be recorded for radio broadcast this year.
Darragh lives in the west of Ireland and is currently working on some new YA stories. Follow Darragh at darraghmcmanus.com or on Twitter: @McManusDarragh
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First published in Great Britain in 2014 by Hot Key Books
Northburgh House, 10 Northburgh Street, London EC1V 0AT
Copyright © Darragh McManus
The moral rights of the author have been asserted.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN: 978-1-4714-0410-8
This eBook was produced using Atomik ePublisher
www.hotkeybooks.com
Hot Key Books is part of the Bonnier Publishing Group
www.bonnierpublishing.com
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