by Chrys Cymri
‘No one ever comes,’ Audrey mumbled. ‘All gone. Potatoes are in and winter’s come, and they’re all gone. Only me left.’
The large window was already partially open, admitting fresh air and birdsong into the room. I pushed it wider. The view stretched out across the lawn and to the trees beyond. I breathed a quick prayer of thanks and another one for this meeting to go well. Then I pulled out my pocketknife and opened the blade halfway.
Raven pressed through two birch trees, branches snapping back into place behind his green-black body. Sun glittered across his scales, touching the scars on his right foreleg and, I noticed, the marks of saddle sores from his short spell as a tacsi dragon.
The window was just within comfortable reach for the dragon. He arched his neck and looked inside. ‘Why did you call for me?’
‘Mrs Steele.’ I touched her thin shoulder. ‘Do you see the dragon?’
Audrey blinked at me. ‘Never a dragon. That’s what they tell me. No dragons. Just me thinking dragons.’
‘Look out the window,’ I urged. ‘What do you see?’ I shifted my hand to gently turn her face towards Raven.
The dragon’s ears and horns swivelled towards the woman. ‘Who are you?’ he demanded, his nostrils flaring. ‘You smell familiar.’
‘Raven,’ I asked quietly, ‘where’s Audrey?’
For a moment he stood still, eyes widening. Then he thrust his head through the window. ‘Audrey?’
The blank look on the woman’s face made me fear the worst. Then colour touched her cheeks. Her voice quavered. ‘Raven?’
‘What are you doing here?’ the dragon demanded. ‘You walked away into London. This isn’t London. This is West Ealing.’
‘Lived in London,’ Audrey confirmed. ‘And Essex. A bit in Cornwall. John, he tried many things. Never really settled down. Not even after Susie came along. Oh, Raven.’ She rose shakily from her chair, and I reached out to support her. ‘You don’t look a day older.’
‘I’m in my prime.’
I found myself biting my lip. Audrey had only been in her early twenties when Raven had fallen into her life. Now she was old, yet he was still young in dragon terms. Seeing them so close to each other brought home to me the difference in human and dragon longevity.
Audrey reached out a hand, but Raven drew back. ‘You walked away from me. You said you didn’t want me. You called me a pet.’ Smoke trickled from his nostrils, and I glanced at the smoke alarm set into the ceiling.
‘I was setting you free.’ She patted the pockets of her cardigan and pulled out a cloth handkerchief. ‘But there was no freedom for me. They blamed me for losing the Flying Fortress. They took my wings away, Raven. I never flew again. I had to find a man. He wasn’t a bad man, John, but the shine wore off very soon.’
She wiped her streaming eyes. So far, her tone had been more of self pity than any realization of the grief she’d caused to Raven. I asked, ‘Do you wish you’d stayed in the valley?’
‘No, not in that valley, not with those winters.’ Audrey shuddered. ‘But you could have taken us anywhere, couldn’t you?’
‘Anywhere.’ Raven’s sigh was soft across both our faces. ‘I would have taken you anywhere.’
‘And I would have been flying.’ Audrey’s legs began to give way, and I helped her back into her chair. ‘Never flew again. Small house, cold man, screaming baby. That’s all I had. Never flew again.’
‘I would have stayed with you,’ Raven said. ‘Even in London.’
‘A dragon in London.’ Audrey blew her nose. ‘London is for humans, not dragons. Maybe somewhere in France. Like the Duke and Duchess of Windsor. A nice chateau. Dragons and castles. They go together. A dragon could live outside a castle. Maybe by the moat. In a nice stable.’
Raven turned his gaze to me. I wondered if he’d ever met someone suffering from dementia. ‘That’s all in the past,’ I told Audrey. ‘What do you want to say to Raven now?’
‘Should have stayed with the dragon.’ Audrey was sinking back into herself, both physically and mentally. ‘Would still be flying. They took my wings away. Could still be flying. They took my wings away.’
‘She’s not well,’ I said to Raven. ‘Her mind, well, it’s--’
‘Trapped in the past,’ the dragon finished. ‘I’ve seen it before.’
‘But she remembered you.’ I tried desperately to think of more to say. ‘Seeing you brought it all back to her. And it’s obvious that she regrets walking away from you.’
‘Because leaving me meant she never flew again.’ Raven pulled his head from the room. ‘Time to leave, shrewd Penny. There’s nothing for me here. There was never anything for me here.’
‘Are you sure?’ There was an ease to his stance, a calm slant to his horns, which surprised me.
‘Audrey never saw me as an equal.’ Raven arched his neck. ‘From now on, I’m only going to spend my time with those who are my equal. And you owe me this afternoon. I’ll meet you in the woods.’ He turned and strode away without a single glance back at the house.
I laid a hand on Audrey’s head and said a quick prayer. She was muttering to herself and didn’t even look up as I left the room. I hurried down corridors and stairs, pausing only to sign myself out. Raven was waiting for me, as promised, and neither of us said a word as I climbed up to his neck. A quick jump and strong wing beats took us away from St Gabriel’s.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
‘Hurry up, we’ll be late,’ Morey snapped, landing on my bed. ‘The coach should be outside the church by now. They’ll be waiting for us.’
‘I don’t have a decent jacket to wear,’ I replied, waving at the garments strewn across the bed. ‘My last good one was destroyed yesterday, when Raven took me to the Llanbedr Ale Festival. A harpy spilled beer across my back.’
‘Then just take a fleece. You’ll be in robes for the service, anyway.’
‘I'm going to be warm,’ I grumbled as I obeyed. Then I grabbed my cassock-alb and white stole. Morey landed on my shoulder as I hurried down the stairs, his sharp claws poking new holes into my clothes. Clyde rested by the door, and crawled into his carry case as he saw me coming. I placed the strap over my free shoulder and we headed outside.
As Morey had warned, we were the last to arrive. The coach was full of excited humans and vampires. Much to my surprise, the two groups were intermingled, although the bare feet of the latter were causing some curious looks.
‘Thank you, everyone,’ I announced as the driver pulled away from St Wulfram’s. ‘This is an exciting day for Skylar. It’ll mean a lot to her that so many of you are making the journey to Nenehampton Cathedral for her ordination.’
There was a seat spare next to Angwyn. I took it, settling back slowly to give Morey time to climb up to the head rest. ‘Take good care of him,’ I said quietly as I handed Clyde’s case over to the magister.
He flashed his long canines in a toothy smile. ‘So have I promised.’
Despite my late arrival, our coach pulled up outside the cathedral with thirty minutes to spare. I exited first, in search of a loo before I went to the New Building to pull on my robes. Other priests who had come for the ordinations filled the area, and I found myself changing next to a memorial plaque dedicated to a former dean. Skylar and the other deacons were off to one side, their faces varying from joyful to grimly determined. My curate simply looked sombre as she fastened her white stole over her right shoulder.
The canon precentor gave us our orders, and we set off for our procession through the cathedral. I passed Clyde, resting happily on Angwyn’s lap, as we walked up the aisle to our seats. The priests had been placed between the choir stalls and the nave altar.
The service ran smoothly. When it was Skylar’s turn to be ordained, I joined four other priests and the two bishops in laying hands on her blonde head. Bishop Nigel intoned, ‘Send down the Holy Spirit on your servant Skylar for the office and work of a priest in your Church.’ When he moved on, and we drew back, I helped Sk
ylar move the stole into place around her neck. Both ends now hung freely, a visual reminder of her new status.
After the end of the service, a happy throng spilled out into the cathedral green. The newly ordained priests hugged friends and family and posed for countless photographs. Angwyn had a quick word with me, and I went back into the cathedral to find Clyde. The snail was sitting near the cushion on which the deacons had each knelt in turn to be ordained. As I lifted him from the stone floor, he turned his eyespots to me and said simply, ‘Yes.’
‘Then you will be,’ I promised. ‘No matter what it takes.’
Skylar joined us on the coach for the return to Beckeridge. The village hall had been decorated inside with balloons and a large banner which announced, ‘Skylar--Priest--2017!’ Holly and other members of the congregation hurried to bring out plates of sandwiches and other finger foods. Wine flowed freely and even the vampires accepted glasses.
‘Good work,’ I told Holly as the afternoon wound down. ‘Lovely celebration.’
‘Skylar deserves it,’ my churchwarden said. ‘I’m looking forward to her first communion service tomorrow.’
‘Aren’t we all.’ I glanced down. ‘You’re not wearing shoes?’
Holly’s toes wriggled against the linoleum floor. ‘We talked about it. Those friends of Skylar’s, it’s not their fault they can’t afford shoes. So we thought they might feel more comfortable if we took ours off too.’
This was a side of Holly I’d never seen before. ‘That’s very good of you.’
‘They seem nice enough. A bit hippy for me, but it takes all sorts, doesn’t it?’
‘Indeed.’ I looked around the room. Both sides of the church, humans and vampires, had mingled happily all day. I’d wait a few days, then talk to Holly about PCC representation.
<><><><><><>
The Sunday communion service was equally joyous. Afterwards, several human members of the congregation remained in the church to watch her baptize nineteen vampires. None of the humans made any comment about the barefooted candidates wearing the same clothes as the day before.
‘You look happy,’ Morey commented as I busied myself in the vicarage kitchen.
‘I feel like things are finally coming together.’ I placed my sandwich on a plate and carried it over to the table. Clyde waved his tentacles, and I pushed over a piece of cheese. ‘We had families in the church again today, the vampires are starting to integrate with the humans, and I think Skylar’s going to be an excellent priest. St Wulfram’s has finally turned a corner.’
The quick tapping of claws on tiles warned me a moment before Jago leapt onto my lap. I used my free hand to transfer him to the table. ‘And where,’ Morey demanded, ‘were you this morning? I didn’t see you in church.’
‘Bastien has some wonderful news,’ Jago said, all but dancing across the wooden surface. ‘He’s been promoted!’
The rat landed beside the gryphon a moment later. I pulled my plate back. The table was becoming crowded. Morey cocked his head. ‘Do tell.’
‘I’m a free agent forever,’ Bastien said, tucking his wings along his back. ‘The Enforcer is very pleased with me. We’ve made an excellent deal with the Consortium.’
I frowned. ‘I thought the Enforcer and the Consortium were rivals.’
‘They were. Until now.’ Bastien whisked a paw over his whiskers. ‘I pointed out that they had a problem in common. And I had the solution.’
‘The Consortium has lots of factories and they need workers,’ Jago explained. ‘The Enforcer ran a lot of the prisons, but they’ve put all the prisoners to work and the Consortium needs more. So I told Bastien that there’s all these people from Lloegyr being held in detention centres over here, and maybe they could go back home and work over there.’
‘The innocence of youth,’ Morey muttered.
‘But those citizens are being held by the British government,’ I said.
‘Precisely,’ Bastien replied. ‘Our two rat kings opened up a dialogue with Minister Sue Harkness. In the end, we had to send vampires, as she refused to see any of us. But she quickly recognised the benefits to both sides. The Enforcer will arrange the transfer. The Consortium will have new workers. Your detention centres will be emptied.’
‘Well, emptied of people from Lloegyr,’ I said, pushing my plate away. I’d lost my appetite. ‘There are other refugees held there as well.’
‘But that’s what so great about this.’ Jago’s crest was raised high in excitement. ‘There’s lots and lots of humans stuck in those places too. So they’ll be able to get work too. They’ll go to Lloegyr and be with dragons and unicorns and gryphons, just like you, Auntie Penny. Isn’t that wonderful?’
Morey’s tail pounded against the table. ‘Lloegyr is not Great Britain’s next penal colony.’
I was already pulling out my iPhone. ‘I’ll send a text to Sue. This is probably best handled in person. I’ll see if she can fit me in early this week.’
‘Is something wrong?’ Jago asked, his crest deflating.
‘Slavery,’ Clyde said, his body a dark red-brown.
‘Not at all,’ Bastien replied smoothly. ‘Just a transfer of working assets. Making detention pay. Your government doesn’t want them, and our factories do. A good solution all around.’
Would like to see you about the deal with the Consortium and the Enforcer, I tapped out on my phone. When might be convenient?
‘How about you two go outside?’ Morey suggested to Jago and Bastien. ‘It’s a nice afternoon. You can go chase butterflies or something.’
Jago turned to the rat. ‘Come on, Basty. That means they want to talk without us here. You could just say so, Tad.’
I waited until the cat flap had finished rattling before releasing a groan. ‘I made a promise, Morey. I told those people from Lloegyr that they wouldn’t be sent back.’
‘Sometimes promises can’t be kept. And, as you heard, they won’t be the only ones sent over to provide cheap labour.’
‘And that’s supposed to make me feel better?’ I glanced at my iPhone. No reply. Perhaps only vicars worked on Sundays. ‘We can’t let this happen.’
‘Stop it,’ Clyde agreed. ‘No slavery.’
‘I don’t know how,’ Morey said. ‘Your government is obviously all for it, and the rat kings, well, they’re a law unto themselves. Could your bishop help?’
‘Could yours?’
‘Other than placing herself bodily in front of whatever thin places they use to move people, no.’ Morey paced across the table, his claws clicking against the wood. ‘Our Church has never tried to influence the government in Lloegyr. And we definitely have never tried to go up against the rat kings.’
‘The Church of England would have to agree to go public about Lloegyr,’ I said grimly. ‘And then there would be all the mess about convincing people without the Sight that there is a parallel world out there. After all that, we might find that the great British public decides shipping migrants off to Lloegyr is a great solution to the refugee crisis. Maybe Albert was right.’
‘Albert? The priest from the conference?’
‘My neighbour from next door. He told me that keeping secrets only protects the strong, not the weak.’ I rubbed my eyes. ‘Maybe Sue will listen to me.’
‘And if not?’
‘How many thin places can your bishop block?’
Morey sighed. ‘I don’t think we have enough clergy to guard all the thin places between our two countries. There are just too many of them.’
I stared out the window at Bastien and Jago. They seemed to be engrossed in conversation, unaware of the crisis they had created. ‘Then let’s hope and pray that I can convince Sue that this is a bad idea.’
<><><><><><>
Tuesday morning, I stood outside the minister’s residence in London, seeking shelter from the hard rain. Sue’s text had offered me a meeting at 11am, and I was only just in time. One last argument with Morey had made me miss the train I’d hoped to catch.
The gryphon was unhappy not to come along, but I’d pointed out that at least one of Sue’s staff had the Sight, and the minister did her best to avoid people from Lloegyr. Morey would not have been welcome.
The door opened even as I was reaching for the buzzer. I endured the usual security checks, handed off my sodden rain coat, and followed the young woman down the corridor and up the stairs. I was ushered into a small office, shown where the coffee and tea supplies rested, and left alone.
A desk and chair were set to one side, and several chairs surrounding a coffee table filled the remaining space. I hesitated, not certain what to do. Should I take a seat, or was one meant to stand when a cabinet minister entered a room? Rain pounded against the small window, blurring the view to the street outside.
The door opened, and I straightened as Sue strode in. ‘Reverend. I’m glad you could make it. We have much to discuss.’
She didn’t offer her hand, so I kept mine at my sides. ‘Yes. Shall I pour us a drink and we can talk about the detention centres?’
‘Mine is a coffee, black.’ And Captain Burrows entered the room.
My false smile broadened. ‘Good to see you, Captain. Have all of your crew been reunited with their families?’
‘They’re all back home, yes.’ Burrows was dressed smartly in a white shirt, golden rank insignia gleaming on her shoulders. ‘Questions are being asked about the loss of the Themis, of course.’
‘As I’ve told you, there’s no need to worry about that.’ Sue moved to the side table and poured out three coffees. ‘Not with the information you’ve brought to our attention.’
‘Nessies are real,’ I said, accepting a mug from Sue’s hands. ‘As are merpeople.’
‘More than that.’ The minister waved a hand, and we took seats around the table. ‘But we’ll talk about that in a minute. Let’s first discuss what’s brought you here today.’
I’d practiced my opening words over and over again. ‘I understand that you’ve found a solution to the problem of Lloegyr migrants.’