It's a bright early morning and I am feeling lucky. I remember that I need to eat; fortunately, breakfast was included in the price. I choose a full English. My last meal was a cheese sandwich that I forced myself to swallow. I’ve been skipping meals recently and the weight had fallen off me, making me look gaunt and unwell. An hour later, I check out and pack everything back into my car.
When I walk outside I notice the waiter who served me breakfast this morning. He is smoking, looking at the passing crowds of tourists. His looks tell me that he isn't British; he has a slender, heart-shaped face with very pointy high cheekbones and his light blond hair is cut very short. He has a typical Eastern European look. I hesitate for a moment but then walk up to him and ask him for a cigarette. I’ve never smoked but somehow I have to start a conversation. He seems happy to share it with me.
‘So, have you been working here long?’ I ask, trying not to inhale the nasty smoke.
‘Around seven years,’ he answers, revealing a strong Eastern European accent.
‘Well, that's pretty long,’ I observe.
He nods. ‘I got to pay the bills somehow.’
‘Where are you from?’
‘Poland.’
I smile and cough; the smoke from the cigarette is tickling my throat uncomfortably. I’m never smoking again.
‘My friend is Polish. I am originally from Russia,’ I answer, while my eyes are watering.
He looks surprised.
‘You don't look like from you are from Russia,’ he says, looking amused by my lack of experience with smoking.
I ask myself if it is so obvious that I don’t look Russian at all. I sigh.
‘OK, I thought that I was Russian all my life, but I am actually Welsh.’
'A couple of people from Wales work here,' he explains, pointing at the hotel. We talk a bit more, and I mention where I am going.
‘The only fortune-tellers I know are gypsies. There is one near where I live, but I wouldn't recommend going there. It's dangerous. Romanian travellers haven't got a great reputation,’ he says.
I wonder why I never thought about this before. In Moscow, I had often seen Romanian travellers on the streets, but I was never interested in their culture. Natasha always used to tell me to be careful around gypsies. He might not be exaggerating.
‘Where is that?’
‘You want to go there?’ he asks, looking surprised.
‘Yes, I need to get there.’
It takes me a while to convince him to give me the directions. I can picture myself walking through the familiar streets with Gosia, but I can’t be sure. Despite his reluctance, he gives me a clear idea where I need to go. I thank him and leave in a hurry, feeling the excitement that's building inside me.
When I reach my destination, I begin to understand what the Polish waiter was talking about; it's just one of those parts of London where you wouldn't want to get lost, but the strange looks don't discourage me. After twenty minutes of walking, I finally recognise the roads and shops, but I still feel like I am in a different part of the world and no longer in London. I manage to spot a couple of Romanian gypsies in the crowd and I follow them; after a further ten minutes walk I finally find myself standing in front of the shop. It’s weird to think that I was only here a few months ago; I never thought I would be back so soon. Everything looks exactly the same; the poster advertising the tarot reading is still on the door. The shop is open. Hesitating for a long moment, I decide to enter.
‘I knew you would come back.’
The familiar face appears at the counter.
Herne hasn't changed at all; her long dark hair is flowing naturally around her arms and her dark eyes are twinkling. She is wearing a bright, long-sleeved dress. Her wrists and neck are decorated with bracelets and silver necklaces. I inhale the familiar exotic aromas, looking around nervously. I still don't know how I am going to convince her that she needs to help me; last time I ran away without even paying her for the reading.
‘Um... were you expecting me?’ I ask, feeling apprehensive. My stomach clenches while her dark eyes are staring holes into my body.
‘You lost something and you want to get it back,’ she says, coming closer to me. My stomach is clawing at my insides. I don’t even know why I am nervous. I suck the corner of my lip hesitating. How am I going to tell her that she is right? Last time I left so suddenly, more shocked than ever before.
She starts lighting the candles and twists the open sign to the other side so the shop is closed for the public. She moves quickly, covering all the windows. There is something about her; I can sense her powerful energy, so different from anything else that I ever experienced. I wonder if she already knows why I am here. She obviously doesn't want to be disturbed by anyone. I am not sure how I should tell her; I have to protect Gabriel and choose my words wisely. When she finishes lighting all the candles the shop looks more inviting. All the stuff on the floor seems to be alive; the mixture of the boxes, pots and herbs make me feel uneasy about the ambience of the room.
‘I had an ability to see things that other people were unable to see; I was stabbed last year and after that, I started seeing people – creatures. As a result, I got attached, and he got attached to me too. I witnessed a murder few weeks ago. My best friend died, and I think I was supposed to be the victim. I lost consciousness, and after that I lost him. The ability seemed to vanish,’ I explain, trying to make sure I haven't given away much by choosing particular words, but I am not certain if I conveyed everything that I meant without forcing the word Sprite out of my mouth.
Herne isn't focused on my words. Her eyes are closed. I stare at her, wondering if she understood my dilemma. After a few seconds, she gets up and disappears in the back, leaving me breathless. The adrenaline kicks in and I can no longer stand the silence in the shop. Then she comes back, carrying a large dusty old book. Herne blows off the dust and opens it. She begin searching, turning the pages quickly and whispering something that I can't understand. My body is shaking with excitement. The warmth of the candles caresses my skin; the aroma of jasmine is so intense. The air is thick and I exhale the vibrations of the room.
‘Do you want to see him again?’ Herne asks, focusing on me.
I nod.
‘The blood of a changeling is still inside me; it's been in my family for generations but no one was ever able to see them. You are the first. It will cost you to reverse what's happened.’
‘Aren't you afraid to talk about it?’
‘Don't worry, they won't know,’ she assures me, but I am not convinced. If anything happens to Gabriel because of me, I will never forgive myself.
‘I will do anything to have him back.’
‘Unfortunately, there is nothing that I can do right now. You must wait until the twenty-first of the month; this is the only day when you can get your ability back. Every person in this world has this ability inside them, but it's all about faith and no one knows to believe in this sort of thing anymore. At the same time, this won't be easy; there is a sacrifice.’
‘I don't really understand why I need to wait a month?’ I ask, confused. Her words don't make much sense and what does she mean about a sacrifice?
‘If you want to do this properly you have to become a vessel,’ she continues, glancing at me.
‘Please explain,’ I say; her words frighten me. I do love him but surely I won't die for him.
She looks annoyed.
‘It's an old ritual that been in my family for a long time. The first day of our calendar summer is always magical, and this is the only day that will allow you to change the order. There are many legends about the people of peace but only a handful are real. To be able to see what you lost, you have to sacrifice yourself; your blood and your soul. There is a ritual that requires your blood - a lot of it. After the sacrifice, you need to bathe in seawater. I can’t stress enough that this pain will be unbearable. Your blood and sacrifice will change the order but you will meet the one that you lost.’
‘Herne, you said that the ritual requires my blood; what do I have to do to myself?’ I ask, not wanting to hear any more; but I came here for a reason, so I brace myself for the answer.
‘You need to convince your body that you are dying, and if you almost died a year ago then you need to be in a similar state of mind.’
‘So I have to stab myself – is that what are you saying?’
‘If that's what's happened before then you’ll probably need to use a knife. Yes, if the pain is real your ability will come back; it has to be done exactly at the sunrise. After getting to the sea, you will be weak and you're risking your life here. You can’t do this by yourself, there has to be another person with you,’ she explains.
I feel dizzy; I never imagined having to go through that pain again. I am mad to even consider this but it’s worth going through the pain if it means I will see Gabriel. I can’t believe I’m going to stab myself and risk my life to see him again.
‘How do you know if this is going to work?’ I ask.
‘I don't, but if you love him then you must have faith that it will work. This book here is one of the oldest ritual books that I have. It's only going to work if you believe that you can do it. Remember, this is not a game. You need another person with you to treat the wound. I have their blood, so I will never be able to experience what you have but you, on the other hand, have a different energy in you that embraces me in a way that I can't explain,’ she concludes, staring at me.
I exhale the air that I have been holding in my lungs. Who can I even ask to hold my hand with during this whole crazy ritual? I can already imagine Gosia's face if I tell her that I want to stab myself to get back with my fairy lover!
‘This is so absurd; he had never even told me how he felt about me,’ I say.
Herne looks angry with me for doubting myself and Gabriel’s feeling for me.
‘If you don't know, then don't do it. Why have you even come here today?’
‘Because I can't live without him.’
‘Then you know how he feels about you, otherwise you wouldn’t have even considered it,’ she snaps.
I think that I have offended her. Herne has to be right; he kept coming back and saying that he couldn't stay away from me. He must have feelings for me that he couldn't understand before. The whole idea seems unrealistic but I am willing to try anything. I look at Herne, who is still reading something from her old book. She doesn’t ask me for a payment. Somehow I want to believe her – despite the reputation, I know she wants to help me. Then another crazy idea pops into my head.
‘Herne?’ I ask, hesitating for a moment. ‘Would you be willing to help me, you know, with the ritual?’
She lifts her dark eyes to look at me. Her expression confuses me. She looks stunned for a split second, but then she clears her throat quickly.
‘I suppose that I can, but I expect you to fund all any necessary travel arrangements. You didn’t pay for your tarot reading the last time you were here but you’ve intrigued me, so I won't take any money from you while we wait for the ritual. We have a month to prepare.’
I nod. I want to get up and hug her, but I restrain myself. This is what I am expected to do see Gabriel again, so I have to agree with her on her terms. She is right; I do have to think this through. I can't make irrational decisions. Gabriel will help me to make the right choice. He used to influence me, so it will be up to him.
‘Where are you going to do the ritual?’ I ask.
‘Anywhere near the sea; the choice is yours,’
I think about the place where Gabriel took me for our first walk, Oxwich Beach. It would be empty if we move to the same place, further from the pathway. I explain to her what I have in mind and she agrees with my plans. She asks me to call her when I’ve decided. I have mixed feelings about what just happened. It’s the end of May and there’s nothing I can do, but wait until June approaches. I go over what I must do in my mind; I don't have the courage to slash myself with a knife. Would I risk my life to see him again, the man who makes me so happy and sad at the same time? He will know what I am planning and if he wants me then he will influence me to make the right decision.
As I walk back to my car, I feel as if someone is watching me. I turn to the right and the muscles in my stomach clench. I instantly recognise the mysterious lady that is somehow always around me. She is staring at me from across the road. Reluctantly, I change my direction, but she starts walking. It takes me few seconds to decide if I want to follow her; it is too much of a coincidence that she is on this street. I try to cross the busy road but the cars are going at quite a speed that when I finally manage to get to the other side she vanishes around the corner.
18
I reach her running through the busy streets. It is rush hour. The wind tangles her silver hair. She is wearing a long red coat. She turns right, passing the corner shop and I am determined that I won't lose her this time. I follow, pushing people aside but when I get to the same corner, I lose sight of her. She just vanishes; I could have sworn that she walked onto the road in front of me. I decide to go back to my car and drive back to Swansea. I must forget about her for now; I have more important issues to worry about.
It’s around half past four and I am still in London, stuck in traffic. It’s so unusual being here and not visiting my mother; even if she has spent my entire life lying to me I still miss her. A few hours later, I’m driving along the M4 motorway feeling tired and hungry. Just before half past ten I arrive back in Swansea. I feel emotionally drained and exhausted. The house is empty, and I am glad to jump into a warm shower and then to my bed. The day has been eventful but I don't have a chance to analyse everything that Herne said; I fall asleep as soon as my head touches the pillow.
When I finally decide to get up, it’s after 12 and the house is pleasantly peaceful. I am in a better mood; there is a chance to bring Gabriel back to my life again.
I focus on the impending exams. There is no point in going through University if I am going to give up just before the final hurdle. For a whole week I eat, sleep and revise. It’s hard to push aside sad memories, especially of Amy. Life is fragile. Amy was so young and had a full future ahead of her. It’s so unfair that she isn’t around anymore.
On the day of the exam, I sit down with my classmates to take American Politics, feeling heartbroken remembering Amy’s smiley face. A couple of girls who were close with Amy give me odd looks and I know what they are thinking. They have a right to feel angry that their friend is not here. I focus on my paper, trying to ignore the negative atmosphere around me. I leave half an hour before the scheduled time and avoid talking to anyone.
Gabriel was probably in the class observing me and whispering into my ear. I miss his warm touch and his azure eyes, but I had to shut down my mind off and concentrate on the material.
I realise that this past year in Swansea, I haven’t made any effort to make new friends, and instead focussed my time on a man that I couldn’t fully have. Amy was making new friends and enjoying her life and there I was, pathetic and stuck behind closed doors, waiting for my fairy lover to turn up.
After the last exam is over, I feel deflated, wondering what I am going to do next. There is nothing left to do, no more studies to distract me and the reality hits me; I am lonelier than I ever been before. My life has never been so depressing; I always used to have friends around me. In this sunny weather I take time to think about the end of the month, wondering if I am going to go through with the ritual. I contemplate if I need to go back to London, but I can't face my mother after telling her that I never wanted to see her again.
One evening Michael and Carl emerge from their rooms and we have a chat; they reveal that they found another house to live in next year with a few guys that they know. I take the rejection well but I can't believe that I have been left out. I don't have accommodation for next year and no one to live with. It's my own fault – I hadn’t even thought about the living arrangements for next
year. I had always thought that I would be living with Amy.
The only person who I can talk to right now is Gosia. She is living in London and renting a two-bedroom flat with another girl. We haven’t been in touch recently, but I know that she would let me crash on her sofa if there were no other alternative. I call her and explain what's going through my mind and she tells me that her flatmate is going away for a month, so she will have a spare room. I have to move out of the house in Swansea by the end of June. The house is already empty with Michael and Carl having finished their exams and left already; they promised to keep in touch next year, but I don't think that our paths will ever cross again.
The time passes unexpectedly slow; every day seems to be dragging. Everything I do is almost mechanical; I eat, sleep and watch TV every day. I am staring at the calendar, counting the minutes and hours before the ritual. I will have to call Herne about my decision soon. Reading doesn't help pass the time, as I can't concentrate; the beach is the only place that allows me to forget about everything and think straight about what I am going to do. Finally, when the twentieth of June approaches, I make a phone call to Herne and tell her that the ticket is booked and I am going ahead with the ritual. I don't know where I will find the courage to cause my own pain, but I know I have only one chance. Herne says that she will be in Swansea in the evening with all the necessary items.
The Whispers of the Sprite (The Whispers Series #1) Page 20