by S McPherson
‘The volume enhances the wonder,’ Milo mumbles. I think he’s embarrassed which is brilliant. It’s so funny to think he possibly finds my world as fascinating as I find his own. ‘Shall we start with the museum?’
My eyes widen with intrigue. ‘Yes.’
He pulls me towards the building behind Big Ben, the one with the grandest entrance. We push open its double doors and I scream as a flurry of pigeons flutter around us and into another room. Milo laughs quietly as everyone inside turns to gawp at me.
I clear my throat. ‘Sorry,’ I mumble, and then dig my elbow into Milo’s ribs until he stops laughing.
The arrangement of the museum is dazzling, and even I find myself impressed, mainly because it shows a true connection between Coltis and Corporeal from once upon a time. They have some of our most vintage cars, often signed by past royalty. My favourite is a cute pale blue convertible. It’s quite narrow, low to the ground and its wheels at the back are smaller than those at the front. I peer at the label. It says it’s a Salmson VAL3 Open Tourer from 1926.
We continue on and I’m greeted by a computer lab of the most ancient looking processors I’ve ever seen. The strangled dial-up tone of the internet screeches through speakers as if it were music and the few people there are tapping excitedly on keyboards and clicking at mice.
‘Half of them don’t work, and the ones that do just type,’ Milo confesses.
I shake my head in wonder as he continues to lead me further and further into the winding building. We come to a display of stuffed animals. I gape at a family of mammoths, and a flock of dodos suspended in the air. They all appear so lifelike. I half expect them to start moving, continuing the acts they have been positioned in. We enter another room; it’s brightly lit and what I guess to be a Corporeal man is conducting a cooking lesson with a small class of Coltis. I hear them chatter excitedly as he pulls ordinary ingredients from the fridge, although I’m sure they are referring to it as the ice box. The level of eagerness rises when he pulls out a blender. I giggle to myself.
Finally, we come full circle and I’m back in the entrance hall where pigeons periodically sweep through. I realise then that the wall is a fountain, tumbling into a marble tray at its base, its bottom covered in pennies and pounds. I wonder how many of those are there for show and how many were added over the years. I rummage in my coat pocket, almost excited when I find a five pence piece. I close my eyes, make a wish and throw it in.
Milo steps up behind me. ‘What did you wish for?’ he murmurs.
‘You,’ I almost say, but stopping myself, I smile. ‘I’ll tell you if it comes true.’
‘Got another one?’ he asks. I search again and hand him a penny. He closes his eyes and whispers something before tossing it in.
‘What did you wish for then?’ I ask.
‘I’ll tell you if it comes true,’ and he grins.
Back outside, we wander past a bar with swinging doors, old English songs drifting out through them. There’s a queue in front of it and two large women stand at the entrance. They have small silver devices in their hands that they run over each person, rays of turquoise light shimmering up and down them before they are allowed inside. On one man, though, the rays turn red and the woman pushes him aside.
‘Nice try,’ she hollers.
‘What are they doing?’ I ask.
‘It’s a device that tests one’s tendency for addiction,’ Milo explains. ‘If they seem likely to abuse a substance, they aren’t allowed in.’
‘Wow.’ I look back, impressed, as another person is flung from the line when the lights turn red. ‘Drake would have failed that,’ I note with a hint of laughter.
‘Why did you never fight back?’ Milo asks, stopping abruptly. I can’t be sure but he sounds almost irritated.
‘What?’ I ask, knowing what he means.
‘When I look at you, I see someone independent, beautiful and I would like to think, strong.’ He stares deeply into my eyes. ‘I don’t see someone who…accepts that.’
I look down, chewing my bottom lip as I try to construct an appropriate sentence, one that might remove that trace of disappointment in his voice.
‘I suppose I thought I deserved it.’ I shake my head. ‘It was my idea to send our parents on that holiday; it was my fault.’
Milo’s shoulders tense and I quickly hurry on.
‘I know it sounds illogical but when Drakes thoughts matched my own…it was the only logic I knew. Not even Nathaniel could break my belief. The walls I’d built around myself were impenetrable.’ I chew at my lip, avoiding Milo’s stare. ‘It may seem crazy but, sometimes you can feel trapped without realising you’re the one choosing to stay. When you pulled me through that portal, you brought me to another possibility. You…you freed me.’ I conclude. I decided last night, that I won’t go back to Drake, not the way things were. I just need to figure out where exactly I am going. The music from the bar sails around us and for a moment, I lose myself in it.
‘You freed you,’ Milo eventually murmurs. ‘You freed you from the phantom cage of your mind.’
I smile wryly, not knowing what to think or say but I feel the towers I built around me, crumbling to dust.
‘So, next time you will fight him,’ Milo continues, half asking, half stating.
‘If it comes to that,’ I nod.
‘It will. We both know that.’ He frowns, then his eyes fix on a building behind me. ‘And you will fight him.’ He says, tugging me through another door and I’m greeted with the sound of grunting and faced with a large boxing ring. Around the edge of the room, hanging from the ceiling, are punching bags where a few people practice alone. In the centre of the ring a man of medium build stands, shrouded in padding.
‘You here for the boxing lesson?’ he beams. I’m about to say no when Milo jostles me forward.
‘Yes,’ he states, clambering onto the ring and pulling me up after him.
It’s a boxing class and I seem to be the only student today. The instructor gives me his undivided attention and for an unknown amount of time Milo cheers me on as I push, punch and kick at the instructor’s protective gear as he ducks and weaves to avoid me.
The instructor yells things like ‘Don’t back down’ and ‘The Vildacruz won’t know what hit them’ to spur me on. Whenever he mentions the Vildacruz, I substitute it with Drake and a new rush of anger rages through me. I lunge clumsily at first, but as time progresses, so too does my aim and force. By the end of it, I’ve delivered blow after blow, forcing the instructor onto his back with one final kick. A small crowd has gathered around and clap supportively.
‘Well done,’ the instructor beams.
I stand empowered; empowered by myself and empowered because of Milo. I watch him playfully punch at one of the bags. Though he’s only messing around he manages to move it a fair bit. I feel a surge of emotion and want nothing more than to run to him, throw my arms around his shoulders, my legs around his waist and kiss him until neither of us can breathe. I exhale heavily.
I can’t believe that this afternoon I was hiding from him, convinced that if he was out of sight he’d be out of mind...out of heart. From the moment I saw him in those premonitions, I think I was his. I was foolish to think there was ever any other choice.
It’s too dark. My eyes are wide open and I can’t see a thing. There’s someone with me but I don’t know who. I hear them rustle about as I press my back against the wall. I don’t know why but I feel anxious and trapped. I tell myself I’m asleep but I can’t be sure. The wall is cold and hard at my back. It feels extremely real. Suddenly there’s light. Two narrow slits of green glide towards me, stopping just a few feet away. They draw closer, blinking; they are eyes. My breath hitches, my whole body trembling. The eyes land on a figure. It’s a man, sitting on what I think is a thin mattress. As my eyes adjust, I see that the man is Drake. He looks thinner than I remember. I want to cry out but my voice has left me.
‘So, you will do it,’ hisses a sinis
ter voice, the light of the eyes bathing Drake in an eerie glow.
‘I will do it,’ Drake sneers.
‘Kill her,’ insists the voice. ‘Kill Dezaray.’
‘No!’ I yell and the heads swivel in my direction. ‘No!’ I scream, turning to the wall, pounding on it in a frantic attempt to break through as Drake rises from the bed and the green slits glide towards me. They’re going to kill me, slowly and painfully, and I can’t escape them. I’m trapped here, and I will die here. I don’t stop screaming. Two strong hands grip my shoulders. I fight them, writhing, shouting and petrified.
‘Wake up!’ a panicked voice commands. ‘Dezaray!’
My eyes flicker open and I stare wildly at Milo, a haze of blue settling around him. A layer of perspiration has formed on my top lip and I know I’m clammy to the touch but Milo doesn’t seem to care as he strokes his hand across my forehead.
‘Are you alright?’ he asks, concerned. ‘You were screaming.’
‘I saw Drake,’ I pant, fighting the urge to burst into tears, ‘and two eyes, two horrible, green eyes. They were planning to kill me. I could feel their hatred.’ Milo folds me into his arms.
‘I’ve got you,’ he whispers. ‘Shh. I’ve got you.’
I bury my head in his chest and allow him to hold me silently for a few moments. He kisses the top of my head and strokes my back; the back I’m sure was just pressed up against a cold, damp wall.
‘It was so real,’ I sigh shakily.
‘It was just a dream.’ He holds me tighter. ‘No one is going to hurt you. Okay?’ He draws my chin up, forcing me to look at him.
‘Okay.’ I breathe heavily but I’m not convinced. I just can’t shake the feeling of how much that dream felt like a premonition.
DASHERPORT MUSEUM
An hour later they have formulated a fool proof plan, assuming none of them is a fool. Lexovia is rife with anxiety but does her best to disguise it. She is standing with Jude, Fawn, Pebbles, and Clay Buzdreedle, a stocky dwarf with blonde streaks in his afro curls, on the edge of the Edwards household roof, a chimneysweep’s brush clutched in hand. She guesses from his appearance that Clay is an Ochi as all Ochis are dwarfs and quite burly. His power to alter the temperature of things will surely come in useful.
‘Does everyone fully understand their position?’ asks Fawn authoritatively, bellowing over the howl of the wind. They each mumble some words of assurance, wishing they believed what they were saying as they gaze down at the rippling moat below them.
‘When I say go,’ yells Fawn, ‘go.’ He dips his hand in his shirt pocket and pulls out a few grains of Elamine – a pink, glittery substance – and sprinkles it into the stream. Slowly a swirling vortex appears. It now looks far less than inviting.
‘Brushes at the ready,’ Fawn orders. They each position their brush, pointing straight out in front of them.
‘GO!’ yells Fawn. The five of them tumble into the whirlpool, headfirst; once again Lexovia hears a scream but only later realises it is coming from her. As soon as they have entered, the vortex snaps shut behind them.
Thud!
After tumbling out of a whirlpool in the sky they land one by one in the fireplace of a seemingly deserted cottage. They each rush out of the way as the next one comes plummeting down the chimney, brush poised and scattering soot everywhere.
Jude lands first and scuttles hurriedly out of the way in time to avoid Lexovia. She is utterly perplexed and sits blinking cinders from her eyes.
‘Get out of the way!’ Jude urges, charging over and yanking her out of the path of Fawn dropping after her.
‘You do this every day?’
‘Only when I have class.’ Jude casually lifts his shoulders. ‘Don’t venture out of Feranvil much else.’
Clay stumbles out of the fireplace next.
‘I think the trips bloody brilliant, though,’ Jude confesses with a wicked grin.
‘You’re off your rocker.’
At last Pebble arrives, shaking soot from her scalp.
Aiming one of her slender fingers and extensive nails at a bulb swaying from the ceiling, she whispers, ‘Luminaro.’ With a flick of her finger a ray of golden light streams from her nail, stretches around the furniture and collides with the bulb, turning it on and emitting a dull orange glow. Everything in the room is covered in dust and cobwebs cling to every contour.
‘Where are we?’ Lexovia peers out into the darkened hallway leading to the front door.
‘We’re on the moor.’ Jude pulls two wet tea towels from a pile resting inside a wooden chest by the window and wipes off his hands and face, handing the other cloth to Lexovia. ‘Remember that house you thought we were going to before I stopped by that boulder?’ He gestures at their surroundings.
‘This is it,’ Lexovia realises as she gazes out of the window, recognising the field and faintly making out the fence and its many warning signs.
‘It’s not actually as old and rundown as it appears,’ Jude comments, brushing off his clothes. ‘We just make it look this way in case any outsiders get curious. Though there are many barriers around, we can’t be too careful.’
‘Barriers?’
‘Aye. Protective shields. Don’t want any Vildacruz seeking us out.’
‘Clever,’ Lexovia agrees.
After ensuring everyone is wiped down and ready to go, the five leave the premises and head for Dasherport Museum. When they eventually arrive there, they huddle beside its high metal fence, hidden behind trash cans and blending into the shadows.
‘You do all know what we’re about to do is breaking and entering?’ Pebble whispers.
‘It’s not technically breaking and entering if we have the key,’ Fawn reasons.
Pebble grins mischievously, ‘As long as we’re all in agreement.’
Fawn chuckles, ‘That we are.’ Then he turns to Lexovia, ‘Now we are not exactly inconspicuous crouched out here. Let’s get a move on.’
Lexovia nods, splaying her fingers to the side and releasing amber sparks from their tips. Jude and Buzdreedle each hold onto her arm as she swiftly coils her hand into a fist, one finger at a time, and with a loud clash, the three of them vanish.
They manifest inside a large hall with a great skeleton of a dinosaur looming over them.
‘Someone’s bound to have heard that,’ Jude whispers.
The sounds of footsteps prove him right.
‘You two look for the gethamot,’ Buzdreedle orders. ‘It’ll be in one of the unidentified objects sections.’
‘Are you sure you’ll be alright?’ Lexovia hisses as they overhear the guard instructing, through his walkie-talkie, that another join him.
‘I’m heading there right now,’ the guard is saying. ‘Request assistance.’
‘I have this base covered,’ Buzdreedle insists. ‘Now go.’
Jude and Lexovia race from the hall. They skid past great replicas of ancient ruins, past fascinating pieces of art, all faded with age. They thunder upstairs and hurtle through a cavalry section, where swords somehow glisten in the dull light, and finally slip into a dark room – the only light coming from inside lit glass cabinets resting on the walls.
‘This is a Revergra,’ Lexovia gasps as she peers into the cases. ‘It’s used by Dreldaras to catch dreams.’
Jude studies an odd looking contraption in the next cabinet. ‘I wonder where all this other stuff came from.’
‘Portologists believe there are other dimensions,’ Lexovia muses as she wanders on. ‘Perhaps a rare someone was lucky enough to find them, though that is very doubtful.’
‘They say Tranzuta found them,’ Jude says as he observes a shimmering grey stone.
‘So, they say. No one knows for sure.’
‘Aye,’ Jude nods, ‘I believe they said: the Mad Man vanishes.’ Lost in thought, Jude fails to notice the red beam of light he is about to step through.
‘Watch out!’ Lexovia calls but right then, an alarm sounds and steel bars drop down from the ceiling,
blocking the exits and barricading them within the room.
‘Security breach. Security breach,’ a woman’s voice repeats through a sound system.
‘Nice one!’ Lexovia snaps.
Buzdreedle is startled by the sound of the alarm. He has just managed to freeze the guards – given he is an Ochi – and has swiped the front door key.
‘Blasted morons,’ he cries, hastening his way towards the entrance.
Finally, he slots the key into the hole and is almost trampled into the ground as Fawn and Pebble swing open the door and sweep in.
‘What’s gone off?’ Being a spee’ad, Pebbles races over to a lit map of the museum positioned in the centre of the lobby.
Buzdreedle shrugs. ‘One minute I’m fending off security and the next…’
‘Unidentified objects on floors one, three and six,’ Pebble says, reading from the map.
‘Find them,’ Fawn orders as he pelts towards an elevator, ‘and don’t leave without the gethamot.’
Pebble immediately takes off in a blur in the opposite direction. Moments later, five guards round a corner, tasers poised.
‘Freeze!’ they call after Buzdreedle who is also heading for an elevator.
‘Well, if you insist.’ Clicking his fingers, a haze of green settles in the room, leaving the guards frozen, their shocked expressions a picture.
‘Found it!’ Jude practically screams. Precariously perched on the edge of a case, he peers into the cabinets on the higher shelves of the room. He is overwhelmed with delight when he comes face to face with the, albeit incredibly rusty, gethamot.
‘Door locked?’ Lexovia says as she rushes over to him.
It’s one of those push to open cabinets, but no matter how many times Jude pushes, the door does not spring open.
‘Know any open sesame incantations?’ he asks.
Lexovia sighs. She has truly underestimated the importance of an education. She is sure Milo and even Howard know a spell to open locked doors, vaguely remembering learning one herself.