by Kim Wilkins
Maisie pressed her fingers fervently against the smooth glass. “Sybill,” she whispered. “Sybill.”
The door burst open. Maisie’s head snapped up in shock as Dr Flood strode in.
“Maisie!” Sacha called. Already he was hobbling towards Flood, trying to block him. In the half-light, Maisie could make out the doctor’s impossibly wrinkled skin. He had all the appearance of extreme age but, uncannily, he moved like a young man. He stopped Sacha easily, knocked him aside with a sweep of his arm, then kicked him and brought him to the ground.
Maisie cried out, but then remembered the task before her. She had to stay focused. She squared her shoulders and fixed her gaze on Flood.
“What do you hope to achieve?” he asked in a calm, regulated voice. “Do you even know what you’re doing?”
Did she? No, not really. She had never felt herself to be so young, so irrational and unprepared for anything. Horrible panic grabbed her in its prickly arms. But she had done it once this evening, why not again? There was nowhere to run in any case. Courage was forced upon her.
She brushed her fingers against the lantern then held up her hand. “Stop, don’t come any closer,” she said firmly.
Nothing happened.
“Oh, god.” Her bones turned to cold, cotton thread.
He moved around a bench and approached her. “Really, this is ridiculous,” he said. “I’m so much stronger than you.”
Her heart jumped around in her chest like a frantic bird. This couldn’t be happening. Once more she brushed her hand against the lantern, moved to hold it out. But this time, the wall’s strange magnetism yanked her fingertips towards the glass brick where Sybill’s soul glowed ghostly in the dark. A buzzing pressure built up under her skin, and suddenly, with a loud crack, the brick shattered in a blaze of blue light. Maisie thought she caught a brief glimpse of a human shape in the gloom, but then it was gone.
A sharp wince from Flood brought her attention back to him. He faltered a little, and his hand went to his chest. But then he straightened up and, with determination, kept coming towards her. A voice, like the echo of a memory, slid into her mind.
“You have to free the other souls.”
“What…?”
“I’m with you, Maisie. It’s Sybill, I’m with you. Free the others. He can’t survive if we’re not trapped.”
Maisie didn’t stop to question. Her fingers went again to the lantern and then to the next brick in the wall. Again the pressure and the crack of electricity. Again, Flood seemed momentarily injured but kept coming forward.
“I can’t do it fast enough!” she cried.
“I can help.”
A barely visible glimmer of blue light concentrated over Maisie’s free hand and then bounced back into the wall. Bricks began to shatter. Maisie desperately crushed her fingers into as many bricks as she could, turning them to dust. The room filled with jolting, cracking sounds. All around, pale glimpses of human figures rushed past her. For every one she destroyed, Sybill was destroying ten. Flood had stopped and doubled over by a bench.
The wall of souls was now spontaneously self-destructing as the souls broke free, breaking other bricks on their way. Blue light flashed and sizzled around her, casting long gruesome shadows on the walls. The crackling was deafening – like standing next to fireworks as they went off. Maisie worked desperately. Her hands were cut and bleeding from flying glass. Flood had paused, jerked and spasmed as though he were being assaulted by an invisible assailant. Still Maisie pushed on, terror fuelling her. Seven more bricks to go, six, five…
Flood suddenly howled in pain and collapsed on the floor. In between the flashes of light and dark she watched as his hand clutched at the air, the movement strangely slow as though watching an actor perform in a strobe light. With a thrash and a rattle, the howl died upon his lips and his hand fell beside him, twitched once or twice and then grew still.
In the dying light, she watched centuries advance upon Flood’s face in seconds. His cheeks fell in, his forehead crumbled, his mouth and eye sockets dropped to hollows. His body, too, collapsed. His skin turned to dry paper, his bones crumbled beneath its weight. His hands turned to claws and disintegrated into nothing. Soon, all that remained was a heap of grey dust, an empty red coat. The final few flickers of the wall died away and she and Sacha were once more left in darkness.
She rushed to his side. “Sacha?”
He groaned.
“Are you okay?” She helped him up.
“No, but I’ll live.”
“Sybill,” Maisie said. “Sybill was here.”
“Is Flood dead?”
She glanced over her shoulder. Could see nothing in the dark. The only light in the room now was the faint glow from the lantern. “Flood’s atomised,” she said. “The souls are all gone. We set them free.”
“But we still have Georgette.”
“Sybill, are you still here?” Maisie called.
“I’m in the lantern with Georgette. I won’t leave you until it’s all over.”
“There’s more to be done,” Maisie said.
They left Flood’s chamber, slamming the door firmly behind them. Two steps down the tunnel, Maisie nearly tripped over the Reverend.
“Reverend? Are you all right?” she said, kneeling beside him.
He winced. Sacha pulled him to his feet. Impossible in the darkness to see if he was badly hurt. Maisie’s impression was of the pale glimmer of the lantern and the sick reflection it made on Sacha’s face, on the Reverend’s white hair as they helped him along the tunnel and up the stairs, into the freezing night outside.
Reverend Fowler could not understand how he was home in bed, but here he was. The blankets were warm and the pillow was soft and a pair of kind hands were stroking his brow. He opened his eyes and saw the girl. He started, remembering what he had been doing when last he was conscious.
“It’s all right,” she said. “Flood is dead.” She smiled at him. “How are you feeling?”
“I…” He was feeling terrible. His body ached from being knocked down. “You did it?”
She nodded. “That was act one. Now I have to go out to the cemetery and set the rest of them free.” She sighed. “I’m so tired.”
He didn’t reply. She had overcome Flood. He was no longer locked in servitude, he could do as he pleased.
“There was a time when I hated you,” she said frankly. “When I found out that you had something to do with Sybill’s murder.”
Did she know everything? He was in awe of the young woman.
“But I think you kind of redeemed yourself tonight.”
“Thank you,” he said, unsure of what else to say.
“Things will change,” she said, a frown drawing down between her brows. “When the cemetery is cleared, things will be different.”
He nodded. “I understand.”
“What will you do?”
“Perhaps I’ll go somewhere warm and sunny to die.”
She tried a tired smile, withdrew her hand. “I have to go.”
“Goodbye,” he said uncertainly.
She rose and left, but there lingered in the room a sense of her warmth and youth. He fell asleep imagining her soft hand on his forehead.
“How is he?” Sacha looked up as Maisie came into the cottage. He sat with Tabby on his lap, the antique lantern safely on the mantelpiece.
“He’s all right. Probably a bit stiff and sore. But after tonight, after we’ve cleared the cemetery –”
“He’ll die. A lot of them will die.”
“Maybe not straightaway. I mean, Flood was clearly past his natural life span, but all the villagers ever had was protection from illness. It might take a while for them to get sick. Months, perhaps.”
Sacha smiled. “You mean after you’ve gone home when you won’t feel guilty any more?”
“Maybe. God, I’m so tired.”
“Me too.”
She knelt on the floor next to him, put her head on the armrest.
“Thanks for all your help tonight.”
“Help?” he said, stroking her hair. “I sprained my ankle in the graveyard and then got knocked over by an old man – a really old man. I don’t feel like much of a hero.”
“I couldn’t have done it without you. Or without Sybill. Have you tried to talk to her?”
“I can’t, Maisie. You can do it because you’re psychic, and because of that intense bond you share with her. To me, it’s just a lantern.”
Maisie dragged herself to her feet and put her hand out to Sacha. “Let’s take them both out to the cemetery. I have to clear it somehow.”
“Set Georgette free.” This was Sybill’s voice in her head again. “She’s been waiting longer than I have. I’ll help you clear the cemetery”
“Sybill just told me to set Georgette free. She’ll help us instead.”
“Tell her hi for me,” Sacha said, reaching for the lantern. “Tell her I miss her.” He stood, winced as he came down on his injured leg.
“We can heal him,” Sybill said.
“How? I’ve never done anything like that.”
“Huh?” said Sacha.
“I’m talking to Sybill. She wants to heal you.”
“Tell her to go ahead.”
“We have to do it together. You have the power, I have the skill.”
“Sure. What do we do?”
“Let me come into your body.”
Maisie reached over and brushed her fingers against the lantern. She felt a cool tingle advance up her arm and into her body. She suddenly felt strangely bloated, made of air rather than flesh and blood.
“Now what?” she asked.
“Put your Gift in my hands – your hands. Will it over to me.”
Maisie closed her eyes and imagined handing her Gift to Sybill. She felt a strange shifting sensation, as though her centre of balance were slightly changed.
“Now, ask him where it hurts.”
“Where does it hurt, Sacha?”
“Around my ankle mostly.”
Maisie dropped once more to her knees and put out her hands. It was as though Sybill was guiding her from within. She rolled up the leg of Sacha’s jeans and placed her fingers firmly on his ankle. A wonderful, fluttering sense of wellbeing swelled inside her, charged from her heart to her shoulders and down her arms. Sacha let out a little gasp. The feeling retreated, her centre of balance shifted back again as Sybill returned her Gift, and the bloated feeling drew away. She put her hand out to the lantern and released Sybill’s spirit back into the glass.
“That’s amazing,” Sacha said. “It’s like nothing ever happened to it.” He tried walking up and down the room, putting pressure on the injured leg. “It’s back to normal.” He looked up and smiled. “What a team!”
“Your power is incredibly intense,” Sybill said. “It’s a Gift like no other.”
“If we could work together –” Maisie started.
“We can’t. I have to go. I have to follow my soul’s destiny. The clearing of the cemetery is the last thing I’ll be able to help you with.”
Maisie felt her shoulders sag forward. That’s right, all over now. How desperately she wanted to draw on her grandmother’s wisdom, ask her the million questions which burned in her brain. But destinies had to be fulfilled. Somehow she had to free every soul trapped in the ground here. She remembered how far the graveyard stretched. It was monstrous.
First things first though. “Let’s go set Georgette free.”
Maisie and Sacha went for the last time outside, into the frosty mid-winter midnight. They walked out across the road and down through the graveyard, and paused on the cliff’s edge. The ocean thundered on the rocks below. Light particles of snow were whipping up on the swirling gusts. The whole world seemed to be bending and shaking to the wind’s will. Maisie pulled off her gloves and stuffed them in her pockets.
“Georgette always hated these windy nights,” Maisie said.
“I’m sure she’ll feel differently about tonight.” Sacha smiled at Maisie. “It’s a good feeling, isn’t it? After all she went through.”
“She’ll be with her loved ones again. Wherever they are.” Maisie held up the lantern, pressed her fingers momentarily against it and said aloud, “Georgette, you’re free to go.”
Upon the instant of the soul’s release, there was a sizzle of blue light and a ghostly human form appeared. But rather than being a brief glimpse like the souls in Flood’s room, the form paused before her. A ghost with long blonde hair, wide pale eyes; little more than a skinny teenager, really. A word formed in Maisie’s mind: “Beware.” And then the ghost was gone.
Maisie laughed out loud. “She spoke to me. I can’t believe it, after two hundred years, she spoke to me.”
“What did she say?”
“She said, ‘Beware.’ I’ve no idea what she meant.”
“Do you think it was important?”
“I’ll figure it out later. Flood and the Wraiths are dead, and soon all the souls in the village will be freed. Nothing else bad could happen.”
“So what do we do now?” Sacha asked.
“Sybill, what now?”
“You have to release all the others. Grave by grave.”
“Grave by grave?” Maisie looked around her desperately, headstones stretched out into the distance in every direction. “I can’t. It will take forever. I’ve only got a few days left, and we can only do this at night-time.” Overwhelming tiredness seeped into her bones. She just wanted it to be over.
“You’re not yet adept enough to do it all at once. You have the power, but not the skill.”
“Do you have the skill?”
“Why, yes.”
“So why can’t we work together again, like when we fixed Sacha’s ankle?”
“Perhaps it’s our only option. With your power, I can clear this entire cemetery in one go. But you’ll have to hand your Gift to me again.”
Maisie turned to Sacha. “We’re going to do it together.”
He nodded.
She touched the lantern, closed her eyes. “Okay, Sybill. Come on in and take my Gift.” A lucid vision sprung into her mind – she was still standing on the cliff-top, but Sybill was with her. She smiled and opened her arms to Maisie and stepped towards her. Maisie spread her arms too, waiting. The embrace lasted a moment, and then Sybill advanced inside her body. Again the curious bloated feeling, again the strange shifting of her centre of balance as she handed over her powers.
“Are you ready?” Sybill asked.
“Yes,” Maisie said.
“Give the lantern to Sacha. It’s empty now.”
Maisie opened her eyes and handed the lantern to Sacha.
“Now!”
Maisie no longer felt in control of her body. She spun around and flung her arms up into the air. A cry sprung from her lips, louder than the wind howling and the ocean beating, and it was amazing to let it go, like the most incredible release she had ever experienced in her life. She felt as though she weighed nothing. Then a profound pressure started to shudder up her legs, through her body, up to her hands. The blue light surrounded her, the shuddering pressure shot out of her fingertips. The ground started to shake beneath her.
“Oh, my god,” Sacha said.
All around pale glowing shapes were rising from the earth and disappearing into the sky. They turned, they twisted, there were shouts of joy and relief. It went on and on, the shuddering electricity rocketing through Maisie’s body as thousands of souls were released into the sky. She shook, tears were pouring down her face as she stood, arms raised, watching centuries of misery vaporise into the icy wind.
An enormous cracking sound alerted her that something was wrong. Suddenly her footing didn’t feel so secure.
“Maisie!” Sacha shouted over the din of the sea, the wind and the exultant souls. “The cliff is giving way. Back off, quickly.”
She took a glance over her shoulder, saw a chunk of earth on the edge of the cliff loosen and drop. R
ocks shook and shimmied to the cliff’s edge and splashed into the sea. When she looked back Sacha was running away from the edge.
“Sybill?” she asked.
“Run, Maisie. We’ve finished.”
The bloated feeling withdrew from her body and she took off as fast as she could. The earth felt unsteady beneath her. She heard an enormous, thundering crack behind but didn’t look back, heading instead for the road. Sacha was up there already. “Come on, Maisie,” he said. “Get out of there.”
With a final burst of energy she made it to the road, was caught in Sacha’s arms. She turned, gasping for breath, to watch as the earth on the point of the cliff gave way, crumbled into the sea, taking old gravestones down with it. Pale joyous light was still exploding from the ground everywhere. The fissure in the earth grew and expanded. More graves tumbled away into the water. It sounded as though the world was ending, and she was responsible. The rush of power was indescribable. She was laughing, crying, delirious, hysterical. This was it, the highest pinnacle of her existence. She flew with the gods, anything was possible. All up and down the main street, lights were coming on in houses. Maisie watched, awestruck, as the earth gave up the last of its prisoners. Then the fireworks began to slow and die away, the earth grew still, and soon the graveyard – now nearly two hundred square metres smaller – lay quiet once more under the winter sky.
She turned to Sacha. He shook his head with wonder.
“I did it!” she cried. “We did it! Sybill, we did it!”
No answer.
“Sybill?”
Everything in her head was quiet. She could remember Sybill’s spirit withdrawing from her body, but couldn’t remember the flutter, the shift of balance which meant Sybill had returned her power. Surely…
And then, Georgette’s warning – beware – made awful sense. A cold dawning of realisation washed through her. “No. Oh no.”
“Maisie? What’s the matter?” Sacha asked.
“Sybill’s gone. And she’s taken my Gift.”