“I cannot answer questions about matters within my world or pertaining to those living here. Such things must be discovered from within.”
“You mean, you won’t tell me where the demon’s place of power is? Things like that?”
The Raven nodded.
“Oh,” Rachel said, disappointed. She puffed up her cheeks and blew disconsolately, sending a stray lock of hair flying. Then she straightened and gazed up at him, her eyes wide and sincere. “What can I do to help?”
“To help whom?”
“You. What do you need?”
“Me? I need nothing. If you will carry this one message, that is all I need presently.”
“But…there must be something else I can do for you,” Rachel asked hopefully. “A task? A job you need done? Are you hungry?”
“I require nothing.”
“Not even to eat?” asked Rachel, visions of gathering treats from the dining hall to feed the Raven dancing in her head.
He shook his head solemnly. “I do not eat.”
“Oh.” She sighed, deflated. Then, a thought struck her. “You said I could not ask about your world. What about the Keybearers? Do they count as part of your world?”
“No. The Keybearers are part of a greater working. They are ones who have a high and weighty destiny before them—to undo a great harm.”
“Am I…” she swallowed, “…a Keybearer?”
“No, child. Your part is to provide the Keybearers with inspiration and support.”
“Oh.” Rachel lowered her head, uncertain what to make of this.
She felt both disappointed and relieved. If her future the Library of All Worlds, might that be better than what awaited her friends? Certainly, it sounded more to her liking.
“‘They also serve who only stand and wait.’” The Raven gazed off, as if looking into the distance. Turning back to her, he added, “Though you may find your part to be more active. And more pleasant.”
“Is this Keybearer destiny the same destiny that Joy and Nastasia are part of?”
“Not precisely. That destiny has to do with stopping Azrael.”
“But…we caught him.”
“True, but he has merely been imprisoned, not undone. Were he to be let go, or to escape, my brother would still be a danger.”
“Azrael is your brother?”
A great sadness came over the face of the Raven. “They are all my brothers.”
“Even the angels?”
He smiled ever so slightly and inclined his head.
“Are you an angel?”
The Raven paused for a very long time. “I am.”
Rachel gazed up at him, her eyes wide and dark. “Please, may I know your name?”
“No.”
“Oh.” She lowered her head. Recalling the name she had called in the dream she had after escaping the Headless Horseman, she asked, “May I call you Jariel?”
Something she could not quite identify crossed the Raven’s face. Surprise? Amusement? He glanced downward, turning the shining golden hoop in his hand this way and that, sending shadows dancing across the ceiling.
“That is not my true name,” he said presently, “but you may call me Jariel, if you wish. I will know that you address me.”
Rachel nodded and swallowed. She had hoped she had somehow discerned his real name.
“And now I must depart.”
“Goodbye…Jariel.”
“Good night, Rachel Griffin.”
Then, he was gone.
Standing in her nightgown, the floor cold beneath her bare feet, Rachel glanced from her cat, as he leapt from her bed, to her three sleeping roommates. She looked up at Nastasia’s bunk where a single pale hand was all that was visible of her roommate. She thought of Siggy asleep downstairs on his bed of gold.
Sighing, Rachel decided she really would go to visit her sister for the weekend. In fact, she would go right now. Grabbing her coat, she set off at a run for the glass room in the cellar of Roanoke Hall.
Chapter Thirty-Three:
Interlude at Sandra’s
“So, what would you like to do first? Eat? Go shopping? Sit and talk? Watch a movie?” Sandra Griffin asked forty-five minutes later, as she unlocked the door to 13 Wharf Place, flat 13B, and shepherded an exhausted and shivering Rachel inside.
“M-maybe just sit and get w-warm.” Rachel’s teeth were chattering. She wanted to pull her red wool coat tighter around her, but her arms were full of a wriggling Mistletoe. “Do you have a fire?”
“Not a real one, but I have a gas burner that looks like a fireplace. It’s an Unwary thing. Come. Sit over here. I’ll turn it up, and we can eat popcorn and have a good chat.” Sandra smiled at her very sweetly.
Rachel came in and let go of her cat, who immediately leapt up onto a wide sill and gazed regally out the window. Starshine, Sandra’s familiar, a slender black cat speckled with such a swirl of white spots that she reminded Rachel of the Milky Way, came stalking daintily across the sill to greet Mistletoe. The two cats touched noses and then ignored each other.
Rachel sat on her sister’s couch, blinking. Sandra had arrived within minutes after receiving her little sister’s call by talking glass. It had taken some time, however, for the sisters to obtain permission for Sandra to take Rachel off school grounds. Now it was well after midnight back in New York. Rachel was so weary, she could hardly keep her eyes open.
Making an effort to keep them at least half-way open, Rachel glanced around. The flat was an intriguing mix of elegant and utilitarian, decorated with a charming blend of antiques and stylish modern furniture. The outer walls were the unvarnished brick of the original warehouse, but hand-woven Persian rugs decorated the floor. The ceiling was made of rough wood, like the ceiling of an old pub, but a crystal chandelier hung in the center of the dining area. Sandra also kept will-o-wisps, which sparkled and twinkled among the rafters, giving the place an enchanted look.
“You have movies?” Rachel mumbled as coherently as she was able. “Gaius loves movies. He talks about them a great deal.”
Sandra looked at her. “Wait! It’s the middle of the night in New York, isn’t it? Off to bed with you, dongsaeng. We’ll talk when you wake up!”
• • •
Many, many hours later, Rachel opened her eyes. It was morning again. With only two trips to the loo and one brief break, during which her sister had insisted she eat a bowl of chicken and rice soup, she had slept through the entirety of Saturday.
Sunday morning dawned bright and clear. Rachel rose feeling much better. The buzzing and darkness that had been looming at the edges of her consciousness for weeks had receded into the distance. Her only concern was that tomorrow was the dark of the moon, and she did not know if the Agents had found the bull-demon’s place of power. As she slipped out of her sister’s large bed, where they both had been sleeping, and padded into the main room, where she could hear her sister in the kitchen busily making breakfast, she wondered how to convince Sandra to share what she knew of the Wisecraft’s progress.
No opportunity to question her arose that morning. Sandra cooked her a wonderful-smelling Unwary breakfast with eggs, toast, fried tomato slices, and baked beans. Rachel ate it without complaining, but she decided she liked the old fashioned breakfasts that the Wise ate, or even American ones, better than what the mundane English ate in the morning.
At least, there was plenty of kimchi.
The meal was served on plates of red and gold that Sandra conjured for the occasion. Afterwards, she tossed the conjured china into the rubbish bin. Within twenty-four hours, it would vanish, and any food left behind would remain with the trash. Rachel noticed that her sister kept no permanent plates at all. She and Starshine conjured them anew for every meal. Sandra did, however have their great-grandmother’s silver tea service. It rested on her mantel between two of Great- Grandpa Kim’s long bamboo minhwa wall hangings, one portraying a tiger and the other cranes in flight.
“So I hear you went and
added to the family without so much as a by-your-leave?” Sandra pushed back her chair, her lips pressed together with amusement. Her star-spotted black cat leapt into her laps and turned in a circle, kneading her thighs. Sandra winced.
“You mean my new blood brother!” Rachel hid the last of her beans under her napkin. “Well, I figured we live in a massive mansion, with two hundred and fifty-seven bedrooms, of which we—both family and staff—use precisely fourteen, and that includes the extra bedroom Peter uses just to read in. So it wouldn’t be the hugest bother to put up another person.”
“Two hundred and fifty-seven? Why, it can’t be that many! Did you count?”
“Yes, indeed,” Rachel replied primly. “I have been in each and every one and can describe it in detail.”
Sandra blinked at this announcement. “But does he need a place to be put up? What about his family?”
“He’s an orphan.”
“Oh! It’s Sigfried the Dragonslayer? The boy you introduced me to? The handsome one?” Sandra leaned forward, disturbing the cat, and smiled mischievously at her little sister. “Wouldn’t you rather keep that one as a possible boyfriend?”
“Date Sigfried?” Rachel cried, outraged at the very thought. “Never! He’s my brother! Besides, Gaius makes a much better boyfriend that Siggy ever would, I tell you!”
“If you say so.” Sandra shrugged, shooed away Starshine, and picked up her plates.
“I do!” Rachel replied firmly, gathering her own.
“Shall I show you the neighborhood then?” her sister asked, as they finished dumping the dishes into the bin. “Broadway Market is just over the bridge across the canal. Then we can have lunch at the Cat and Mutton.”
They crossed the Regent’s canal and spent a charming morning peering at merchandise displayed on carts covered by green and white awnings and eating home-made fudge. The market was a riot of colors and sounds. The smell of fresh bread and warm cinnamon filled the air. Rachel felt shy among the Unwary and wished people would stop staring at her, but her sister’s presence, close beside her, was a great comfort.
It was impossible not to feel safe when holding Sandra’s hand.
The sisters had lunch at the pub Sandra had suggested and bought a meat pie to take home from a shop called F.Cooke, the sign of which included the quaint claim: Live Eel Importer. The window promised Hot Jellied Eels as well, but the sisters decided to stick to beef mince pie. Alas, amidst the hustle and bustle, there was no good opportunity to ask Sandra about the Wisecraft. Rachel also wanted to talk to her sister about Dread, but she could not gather the courage to introduce the subject.
They walked along the long row of carts whose owners were hawking their wares. Sandra kept offering to buy things for her little sister, but Rachel insisted that she did not need anything. Only at the end of their expedition, as they were about to depart, did Rachel suddenly grab her sister’s arm and point at a display in the window of a store that had been painted a pretty light blue.
“That! Unni, I want that!”
“Are you sure, sweetie? Isn’t that a bit young for you?”
“That’s what I want,” Rachel insisted firmly.
Sandra made the purchase, and Rachel happily walked back to the flat, one hand holding her sister’s, the other clutching a plushy, stuffed lion with a bright red bow tied around its neck. It would make a wonderful addition to the secret room with the couch.
That night over dinner, she did try to subtly ask her sister questions about the matter of the bull-demon, but all Sandra would say was, “Now, you worry about resting and feeling better and leave that matter in Father’s capable hands.”
As they finished, however, Sandra added, “I will tell you one thing, Miss Inquisitive. You were right to worry about your friend Juma. Just after Father had him moved, the first family he had been put with reported that a red-haired woman showed up looking for him.”
“Serena O’Malley,” exclaimed Rachel.
“Exactly,” replied Sandra. Then she smiled. “Oh, and there’s a letter for you.”
Rachel took the letter and examined it. It was from Nastasia. Before leaving Roanoke Friday night, Rachel had written the princess a note letting her know about the request to bring the Elf home, asking very nicely if Nastasia might wait until Rachel returned before doing this. She also urged her friend to patch things up with Sigfried.
Nastasia’s reply read.
Dear Rachel,
Thank you for your thoughtful note. I will wait for you to return before taking action on the matter of our mutual friend.
As to Mr. Smith, I feel no animosity toward him. He is still a treasured friend. But he expressed values that I felt were not appropriate for a knight in my employ.
I trust you will soon be feeling better.
Sincerely,
Your friend,
Nastasia.
Rachel was pleased that Nastasia was not angry at Sigfried, but remembering Siggy’s face, she was not so certain that he was going to get over the incident quite so easily. He took this knight business very seriously. It could not feel good to the young orphan boy to have his solemn oath of fealty rejected.
Borrowing her sister’s stationery, she wrote cheery notes to Nastasia, Sigfried, and Gaius, about what a nice time she was having in London and how she hoped to be back in a few days.
The next morning was Monday, November 13th. Rachel did not yet feel ready to return to school. Sandra made her a big breakfast and then set off to work, giving her little sister the run of the flat. This was the moment for which she had been waiting. Stretching out on her sister’s bed, Rachel closed her eyes and mourned.
She reviewed her memory, pausing on each disturbing event since the beginning of the school year, both major ones, such as the death of the Elf, or the moment when her father told her to be an ordinary girl, and trivial issues, such as discovering she had been deceived her whole life as to the identity of her great grandmother, or having mistaken a house cat for a familiar. Each memory came to her as crisp and painful as when it had first occurred, entirely undimmed by the passage of time. As she experienced it again, she let herself be torn by the grief and horror she had dodged the first time, especially the emotions she had shunted aside with her mother’s dissembling technique.
Then, she wept, cried, wailed, trembled, and did all the other things that she had so carefully resisted during the last two and a half months.
The day passed slowly; she cried for hours. Sometimes, she threw herself around on the bed, screaming and punching the mattress. Other times, she lay still, weeping and hugging her plushy lion. At one point, Mistletoe leapt up onto the bed, and Rachel cried with her face buried in the black and white cat’s soft fur, but he was soon gone again, bored with being used as a pillow. Or maybe he did not like getting wet. Occasionally, she rose and went to the loo or drank a glass of water but even as she did these things, the tears kept flowing.
One realization became quite clear as the process of mourning helped bring the last few weeks into focus. She could not go on forever pretending she was something she was not. Gaius deserved to know who she really was, even if it meant that he would break up with her and go off with some more mature girl, like Colleen MacDannan or Tess Dauntless. During one of her breaks, she wrote him a letter, which unfortunately came out a bit tear stained. It read:
Dear Gaius,
I want to tell you the truth. I am very sick, and Sandra is taking care of me. Something has broken in my mind, and I can’t seem to stop crying.
Vlad would say that I am weak, and I fear it is true.
I know you like me because I seem so strong and clever and competent. But this isn’t so. I have been hiding how bad things are for me. All my friends seemed to be able to deal with what has happened during the last two and a half months, but I can’t. I don’t know why this is.
So now you know. I realize that boys don’t like girls who are weepy and broken. I’m sorry for trying to deceive you into thinking I w
as okay.
I understand if you don’t want to be my boyfriend. But I hope we can still be friends. You are the sole bright spot in my rather dark life.
With all my heart,
Rachel
She slipped it through the post glass. Then, she lay down on the bed again and wept some more. She couldn’t stop. Her eyes ached. Her whole body hurt.
She continued examining her memories. Hours went by. Eventually, she came to the day that the Elf was murdered. She was not looking forward to re-experiencing these memories. As she was recalling walking into the Memorial Gardens to light candles for ghosts, however, something strange happened.
The little Lion in her memory turned and spoke to her. “Come unto me and I will give you rest. For my yoke is easy, and my burden light.”
Her surprise was so great that she stopped crying. A gentle sense of comfort spread through her, much like the feeling that came when petting the little familiar.
She replayed the scene three times, but it remained the same. She could not tell if this event had just occurred, or if it had happened two weeks ago but had been obscured until she actively remembered it. Each time she recalled it, however, her feeling of peace and well-being grew.
Rachel rose and padded into the kitchen. Outside, the sky was already growing dark. An almanac she had once glanced at reported that the sun would set at this time of year in London by quarter past four. Sandra had left her a lunch in the fridge, a strange silver box filled with coldness that she had read about in books but never actually seen before this trip. Rachel opened it cautiously and took out the sandwich. Her sister’s cat rubbed hopefully against her ankle, hoping for a bit of fish or cream. Rachel obliged, putting a bit of food down for both cats. There was also a bag of crisps on the counter. Taking the crisps and the sandwich, she sat down on the shiny black leather couch, eating her food and flipping through a coffee table book on Temples of the World.
Rachel and the Many-Splendored Dreamland (The Books of Unexpected Enlightenment Book 3) Page 42