by Frewin Jones
Chapter V
“Feeling better?”
“No.”
“You’ve stopped bawling, though. Drink some of this. It’s nice. Cranberry juice with just a smidge of cola. It’s my own invention. Come on, Anita—try it.”
Anita took the frosted glass from Jade’s hand. Ice rattled. The rim was cold against her lips.
Anita wasn’t sure how long she’d been crying. Ten minutes? Half an hour? They were sitting together on the lawn, except that Jade had dashed indoors and had come back with a box of tissues and some fresh, iced drinks. She had also covered up with a bright yellow top.
Anita swallowed, the ice tinkling against her teeth. “Like it?” Jade asked, nodding toward the glass.
“No. Not much.”
“Me neither. Some beverage-based experiments are just doomed to failure.” She grinned and lifted a lock of Anita’s hair off her face, tucking it behind her ear.
Jade looked thoughtfully at her. “So. Do you know why you lost your memory? Did you get a whack on the head or something?”
“You know about the accident—on the river?”
“Sure—everyone does. But you were fine after that.” Jade’s eyes widened. “At least, you were walking and talking. But is that what did it? Was it some kind of delayed reaction to the accident? Oh, wow! That would make so much sense. Now I think about it, that’s when you started acting crazy. Jeez, Anita—you’ve got to get to a hospital. You have to be checked out. You probably need a CAT scan or something.”
Anita looked at her friend. Tell her? Don’t tell her? “Maybe so—but Mum has told me the weirdest stuff,” she said in a rush.
“You’ve spoken to your mum since you woke up?”
“Yes. She was there.”
“And she let you out without getting you examined?” Jade sounded incredulous. “What’s that all about?”
“According to Mum, there’s nothing wrong with my head.”
“Ooh-kay. And she knows this how?”
“Because she says she knows what I’ve been doing for the past two months.”
“Go on. . . .”
Anita took a long, slow breath. “Okay, you need to let me tell you the whole thing, right? And you need to not interrupt.”
Jade made the padlocked-lips-and-thrown-away-key gesture.
Another breath before the plunge.
“Well, according to my mum . . .”
Jade stood up, turning in a slow circle, smiling and waving and calling. “Hello, guys! Nice try!”
Anita stared at her. “What are you doing?”
“Waving at the cameras,” said Jade. “I figure they’re out there somewhere, because that story has to be part of one of those reality TV shows where they check out a person’s gullibility factor.”
Anita stood up, wanting to rush at her friend and shake her. “You think I’m making all this up?”
Jade rested her hands on her hips. “Do I think that was all crazy talk, or do I think you’re a fairy princess? Well, let me see. . . . Hmmm, which is more likely? Crazy or a princess? Fairy princess or crazy? It’s so hard to choose!”
“Stop it!” Anita shouted, stumbling forward. “Just stop!”
Jade backed off a couple of paces. “Oh. My. God. You’re serious, aren’t you? Your mum really told you all that stuff? And she expected you to believe it?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re sure she wasn’t teasing you? Come on, Anita—she had to be kidding with you.”
“She wasn’t. I swear she wasn’t.”
“Jeez louise!”
“Exactly! Now you know how I’ve been feeling all day!” She looked hard into Jade’s face. “And there’s something else. Something that’s only just clicked. Mum told me that when we were hiding from the Gray Knights, we were in someone else’s house. A friend’s house. She didn’t say which house—which friend. But I’ve just figured it out.”
Understanding crept over Jade’s face. “No . . . way . . .”
“I think so,” Anita said. “I think I was here. I think all that mess you found when you got back here from your holiday—I think that was me.”
Jade lifted her hands, palms out, fingers spread. “No! This is insane. You’re insane.” She ran for the lounger. “I’ve had enough of this. I’m calling your mum right now.” She picked up her mobile and pressed buttons.
“I can’t let you do that!” Anita said, moving toward her.
Jade stepped backward over the lounger, the mobile held to her ear, her other hand stretched out, fingers pointing. “Keep back, Anita. I’m going to make this call, whether you like it or not.”
Anita took a half step forward.
She paused as a sudden muted sound rang in her ears. It was like discordant music sounding from far, far away. At the same moment the air behind Jade—the air over the wall of water-slicked white stones—began to shimmer and darken.
“What the . . . ?” Jade frowned, shaking her head. “What’s that noise?”
The air behind her was crackling now, sparks striking up off the stones, and a heart of deep, grainy blue was forming like a bruise over the trembling pond.
The sound intensified in Anita’s head. Now it was like an orchestra tuning up, like strands and fragments of disparate music weaving together—growing louder, making the air vibrate.
The stain of deep blue light over the water feature seemed to be taking on definite shapes. There were two human figures hanging over the stones.
Anita was about to yell to Jade to turn and look when the music faded and the ultramarine blemish in the air over the stones dissolved.
“That was a weird noise,” said Jade. “What was it?” She looked at her arms. “Check this out! It made the hairs stand up all over me.”
Anita gasped. “Did you see that?”
“See what?”
“Jade.” Anita tried to keep her voice steady, to keep from sounding crazy. “Something nearly happened. Something”—she licked dry lips—“behind you.”
Jade glanced over her shoulder. There was nothing to see now. “What kind of something?”
“I’m not sure.”
There was a taste in Anita’s mouth that seemed familiar. Unpleasant but familiar. She associated it with pain or discomfort.
“Oh! Hi, Mrs. P. It’s Jade.” The phone was still to her ear. “Yeah—fine, thanks.” She stared hard at Anita, one arm extended toward her, warning her to stay back. Between her Sunday morning tai chi classes and her karate night school lessons, Jade was not a person to mess with.
“Thing is—I’ve had a strange call from Anita,” Jade continued.
That was something—at least Jade hadn’t told her mother she was here.
“Huh?” Jade’s eyes were wary as she looked at Anita. “No. I have no idea where she is. Why?”
Jade listened for a few moments. Anita watched her distractedly, her brain still tingling from the outlandish music. The charged air prickled on her skin. And she had that bad taste in her mouth. A taste like rusty iron.
“Really?” said Jade. “That explains the strange stuff she was coming out with. Listen, I’ll give her a call back, okay? I’ll try to talk her down—see if I can persuade her to go home or to meet up with me so I can bring her home. I’ll let you know how it goes. Yeah. Fine. Okay. Bye.”
“Thanks for not saying I’m here,” said Anita. “What did she tell you?”
“She said you hit your head,” Jade said, her voice cautious now. “She said you ran out of the house before she could get you to a doctor. She said that you’re probably not too coherent right now.”
Anita felt a chill in her heart. Her mother had lied. It felt like a betrayal. “She would say something like that,” she insisted. “Of course she would. She’s not going to tell you that other stuff over the phone. Even if she believes it, she’d know you wouldn’t.”
“You got that right.”
“How did I hit my head? Did she tell you that?”
“No.�
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“But she made out it was recent, yes?”
“I guess so.”
“Feel my head, Jade!”
“Excuse me?”
“Feel my head—if I hit my head there’ll be a cut or a bump or something. If I hit it hard enough to scramble my brains, there’d be some sign of it, surely?”
“Okay.” Jade pointed to the grass. “Sit down with your hands in your lap. Make any sudden moves and I’ll swat you like a fly. Okay?”
“Okay.” Anita folded her legs under her and knelt on her heels in the grass, her fingers linked together in her lap.
“If I find a bump or whatever, you’re going to let me take you home, right?” Jade said as she padded across the grass.
“Yes.”
Jade stood behind her. Anita felt her hand moving slowly over her head, feeling for anything unusual.
“Well?” Anita asked, staring straight ahead.
“No bumps. No lumps.” Jade sounded puzzled. “This just keeps getting weirder by the second. Why would your mum tell me you’ve had a bash on the head if you haven’t?”
“To cover up for something too weird to tell you about?” Anita suggested, craning around to look up at her friend. “Are you freaked out yet?”
Jade shook her head. “I don’t freak out that easily. Let’s just say I’m intrigued with a side order of slightly spooked.”
Anita got up. “I need something else to drink. I have the foulest taste in my mouth.” She was halfway to her feet when the jangling music came crashing into her head again. Louder this time, dissonant, grating—clashing and strident. She staggered at the shock of it. Through the cacophony she could just about hear Jade’s voice shouting words she couldn’t make out.
The air thrummed, the laurel trees rippling as if they were reflections in troubled water. The grass seethed under her feet. The flowers in the beds bled into one another till all the different colors became a single rainbow swirl. Shards of silvery blue light skidded on the stones over the pond. The wound of dark blue light appeared again, throbbing in the air, pulsing and darkening and becoming more solid.
The terrible music grew even louder, coming to a crescendo of screaming strings and clashing cymbals and blaring trumpets. A silvery line cut down through the heart of the dark blue blemish that hung over the stones. A thin line that sparked and flared and opened.
Through the widening gap Anita caught the briefest possible glimpse of a shingled shoreline and a cobalt sea that stretched away to the horizon. There was a galleon—an old-fashioned, fully rigged galleon! A huge, white lizard reached forward with raking claws.
Two figures blocked the light: one male, the other female. They came tumbling through the gaping silver-lipped portal, plunging headlong into the pond, sending up a fountain of greenish water.
The fire-rimmed mouth closed. The dark blue stain winked out of existence, and the music stopped abruptly, as though someone had thrown a switch.
“No . . .” It was Jade’s voice, strangely loud in the sudden silence. “No . . . this isn’t happening, this isn’t happening. . . .”
The two figures scrambled to their feet, water flooding off their clothes as they stared wildly around themselves.
One was a girl, a dark-haired beauty in an old-fashioned olive green dress. The other was . . .
The other was Evan!
But he was wearing the weirdest clothes: a strange black tunic and leather boots, like someone in a Shakespeare play. Like Romeo.
“Forsooth!” gasped the girl, floundering to the edge of the pool. “Your powers are formidable indeed, Master Chanticleer! But I’d fain travel a less hectic path in the future and mayhap arrive dry-shod!”
“No. Way. No. Way. No. Way.” Jade backed away, shaking her head.
Anita took a stumbling step forward. “Evan?”
Evan Thomas was knee-deep in the pond, gazing at her, his fair hair hanging wet in his silvery eyes.
Silvery eyes? No! Evan’s eyes were brown! But . . .
The girl stepped out of the water, a slow grin spreading across her face as she opened her arms.
“Come, Tania!” she cried, her eyes shining. “Look not so moonstruck! We are neither apparitions nor flibbertigibbets! By Master Chanticleer’s Arts we have come across entire worlds for you! Come, my sweet, darling sister—embrace me and tell me all that you learned in the airy realm of Tirnanog!”
Chapter VI
“Get away from me!” Anita’s terrified shout cut the air like a blade.
The dark-haired girl stumbled to a halt, astonished.
“Tania? Do you not know me?”
Anita stood her ground, but she was trembling from head to foot.
This isn’t real. It’s all in your head. Refuse to buy into the hallucinations and they’ll go away. They will. They have to. . . .
The girl moved warily forward, her face concerned.
“Tania, sweet sister, why so distressed? There is nothing to fear here. All is good.”
Confront the nightmare. Break it down.
Anita looked into the girl’s anxious face.
“I’m Anita Palmer,” she said, slowly and deliberately. “And you don’t exist!”
“By all the spirits of love and devotion, I do!” said the girl. “I am your sister Rathina. Why do you not know me? What dread blight has the Divine Harper put upon you that you know me not?” She turned her head. “Master Chanticleer! I fear her wits are addled. Is there aught you can do to amend her sorry state?”
Anita turned to look at Jade; she needed to make sure the whole world hadn’t gone crazy. Jade was staring from Rathina to Evan with a look of absolute disbelief on her face.
If these are my hallucinations, how come Jade can see them?
Evan waded to the stone rim of the pool. His face was empty, his eyes still filmed with silver. He lifted a leg, awkward, unsteady. His foot slipped on the stones, and he pitched forward into the grass.
“Evan!” His heavy fall jolted Anita out of her unbelief. She pushed past the dark-haired girl and ran headlong toward where Evan lay as still as death in the clipped grass.
She crashed onto her knees, leaning over him, using both hands to turn him onto his back. His face was pale, wasted, the silvery eyes staring up at nothing.
Rathina stood over her. “The summoning of the spirits was hard,” she said. “It has taken much of his strength. His first charm failed, and it was not until the Great Salamander used his claws to tear asunder the fabric that divides the worlds that we were able to break through.” Anita felt Rathina’s hand on her shoulder. “But he would have spent his last breath to be by your side, Tania.” Her voice trembled. “He would have done this thing, even if the Dark Arts had devoured him.”
Anita peeled Evan’s hair off his face, stroking his damp skin, leaning in close.
“Evan?”
The eyes were frightening. Like balls of molten quicksilver.
She held his face between her hands, her forehead touching his. “Wake up! Please wake up! I need you.”
The silver slithered over his eyes.
“Tania?” His voice was faint and far away.
Jade’s voice came from somewhere close. “Is he okay? Should I call an ambulance? I’ll call an ambulance. Is that the thing to do?”
The silvery sheen faded away like dissolving mist, and Anita found herself looking into Evan’s chestnut brown eyes.
His hand came up to cradle her cheek. “Tania,” he breathed. “It worked. I found you.” He let out a gasp of exhaustion. “That was hard!” he said, smiling wearily. “That was really hard.”
As Evan sat up, Anita drew away from him, resting back on her heels, gazing into his face.
Rathina’s voice drifted through the white fog that filled Anita’s mind. “She knows not your true name. And she does not remember me. What bane came upon her in Tirnanog? And how did she come here?” She looked around, seeming to notice Jade for the first time. “You! Maiden! What place is this?”
/> “This is my house—my garden,” Jade replied, looking dazed. “How did you do that . . . that appearing-out-of-nowhere thing?”
“This is the Mortal World,” Rathina said, lifting her head and sniffing the air. “I smell it well enough. Unclean is the air, but I have endured it before, and I’ll endure it again till we can escape and return to Faerie.”
“Oh my god!” Jade gasped. “Oh! My! God!”
“And what are you, maiden?” asked Rathina, eyeing Jade up and down with disapproval in her eyes. “Are you human, or are you some feckless water nymph that you disport yourself with hardly a stitch on your body?”
“I’m a person!” Jade said. “What are you?”
“I am Rathina Aurealis, princess of Faerie.”
Jade let out a long, low breath. Lost for words.
Evan reached out and touched Anita’s cheek. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t know,” said Anita breathlessly. “Am I?”
“You will be,” he murmured, “now we’re together.”
She sighed, not knowing what to say.
“We waited on the shore for you to come back,” said Evan. “The Great Salamander was with us. He told us what had happened. But . . . but you never returned. You never came back from the land in the sky.” He smiled reassuringly. “Didn’t I tell you that I’d find you wherever you went? Remember? You’re in my blood, Tania, and I’m in yours. Love never dies in Faerie. Nothing can keep us apart.”
“I’m not Tania.”
“Yes. You are.” His brow furrowed. “Something happened to you in Tirnanog.” His fingers touched cool against her forehead. “Your Faerie soul sleeps,” he whispered. “Deep within, behind locked doors, in a dark and silent place.”
Anita swallowed hard. “Who are you, really?”
“My name’s Edric, and I’m in love with you.”
Anita gasped. “You never told me you loved me before.”
“Yes. I did. Plenty of times. You don’t remember is all.”
“Truly?”