Faerie (9 page)

And then it was gone and she was left standing in breathless, in terrified silence in the empty garden.

She dropped her arm and let her pent up breath escape in a great gush of relief. She felt giddy, her legs almost betraying her and giving way, but she forced herself to stay upright, and calmed herself. It hadn’t been real, couldn’t be real. It was just an illusion, a cruelty intended to unnerve her – to break her. The world around her seemed out of focus for a moment, as if this was the illusion, but gradually she pulled herself back.

“I don’t know what any of this means,” she said to the air, “but I do know that will never happen. Play your games, but I will never let you break me.”

She looked back at the rabbit. There was nothing left of it but matted bloodied fur, red meat and gleaming white bone.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered and picking up her basket of blossoms she went back into the kitchen, switched on the light, and collapsed against the door. She was shaking violently, her teeth chattering. She sat with her back to the door, sprawled like a puppet whose strings had been cut, unable to get her legs to move under her. She was not going to let those fuckers get away with this. She would not let them terrorise her. That terrible vision of Hell came back to her and for an instant she felt the heat of it on her skin, felt it searing through her eyeballs, the heat so intense that they liquefied, turning to jelly, her skin blistering, peeling from her bones, the fat melting. It was so real, all of it, so real that she could smell her own charred flesh. Why was this happening to her, she just didn’t understand. She wanted someone to explain it all to her, to tell her that everything would be all right. The note had said that she should take heart, that the game was almost over, but it didn’t feel like that. She was drowning in her own misery and these creatures were winning.

There was a movement just in front of her, and she looked up, startled, her heart skipping a beat. Her eyes were drawn to the large whiteboard fixed to the wall directly opposite the door. Lily watched with a mixture of wonderment and horror as words appeared across the cloudy surface, made smoky by a thousand mundane messages.

THE BLACK KING HAS MANY FORMS. KILL ONE AND YOU KILL THEM ALL. STAY STRONG. YOU WILL PREVAIL

It looked as if it was being written by an unseen finger dipped in ink, the writing on the wall, just like the story in the Bible with King Nebuchadnezzar. That had come from God, but she couldn’t help but wonder where this had come from. And she suddenly understood. All of these creatures, the snake, the spiders, the cat, the man, perhaps even the daevas – they were all one and the same creature, but which was its true form? Was it any of them. Was there some other creature lurking in the darkness that was its true and purest form? She took the message to heart, but had no idea what to do with it. It must have come from a friend, mustn’t it? It must have come from the blonde woman, whoever she was.

She went and wiped the message from the board – and it thankfully did wipe off, because she wouldn’t want to have to explain that to anyone. She collected up her basket and went back upstairs. She felt sick to her stomach, and realised that she wasn’t going to keep her supper down for long, so rushed to the toilet and hung her head over the bowl until the feeling passed. Once upstairs she felt better, and she calmed down enough to think more rationally. She was still shaking,  her brain addled, but she gradually collected herself and turned her mind to practicalities. She’d have to go out as soon as it was light and bury the poor little rabbit – the last thing she needed was for Liam or Sarah to find it. Kieran would probably want to stuff it and keep it as a door stop. What about the ointment? It was even more important now, wasn’t it, to get Connor better? He seemed to have at least some mastery over these creatures and the evil magic they worked. He might even know the way home, but he was never going to be able to tell her anything with his mind in chaos. Yes, whatever else, she had to make this ointment work.

It was never a good idea to perform magic when you were feeling too many negative emotions, and certainly not a good idea to attempt it when you were terrified beyond measure. She had found that out long ago; it soured the mixture, usually making it worthless. But she couldn’t afford the luxury of waiting, could she? This was war and in war desperate measures were sometimes called for. She managed to get her mind into a good place eventually, thinking of how this would make things so much better for Connor – just how good it would be for him to finally see clearly. She grabbed her iPod and ran through her play list to find something to soothe her shattered nerves and found just the right one. She sang along to ‘What’s Up’, by 4NonBlondes a few times ‒ that never failed to cheer up. The first few times she was trembling and teary, but after the fifth run through she found that it had taken away most of her fear and anger. The large glass of cooking sherry hadn’t done any harm either.

She took her small oil burner from her wardrobe and heated up some olive oil on a low heat, gradually adding the ingredients and stirring it with a rose twig, letting them infuse. She could feel it working, each component adding to the mix, mellowing and becoming potent. When other mothers had been helping their toddlers make inedible jam tarts from left over pastry, Maggie had been showing Lily how to blend potions and ointments, steeped over the stove, making ointments for this and that. Lily might be hopeless at chemistry, but she certainly knew how to mix a potion. It would still take a day or so to mature, but she thought it would be ready by the day after tomorrow. She wouldn’t say anything to Connor just yet – she didn’t want to raise his hopes, just in case it didn’t work or something went wrong.

She put the ointment to one side, satisfied with her work. Job done she put it in her wardrobe in the dark to mature.

Lily went out and buried the poor rabbit as soon as it had got light, long before anyone in the house was up. There was little left of the creature to bury – it was nothing more than bones covered with scraps of matted and bloody fur and mangled flesh. They, or it, had stripped it in mere seconds. She knew that the djinn were shape-shifters, but she had had no idea just what that could mean in real terms. She put the poor little creature right at the back of the garden under a holly bush, where no-one was likely to find it. The djinn might not be able to actually touch her, but little by little they were wearing her down in this dreadful war of attrition; she was afraid to sleep, afraid of the darkness that had never held any fear, and she had no idea what they would do next.

She spent the day tidying up the house and playing with the children; they both seemed quite subdued and not their usual buoyant selves. She gave them their lunch and took them into the living room, settling them down on the sofa with colouring books and crayons.

Claire was online chatting to her friend Sonya – her second favourite pastime, although Lily could almost certainly guarantee that they were talking about some daytime TV show.

“I’m going up to see my new flat,” she told Claire.

Claire just nodded, only half hearing her, still typing.

“There’s a burglar upstairs ransacking the place,” Lily said.

“Okay,” Claire replied, not taking her eyes from the screen.

Lily just shook her head and made for the door.

Chapter Eight.

Lily had been instructed in the letter to pick up the key to her new flat at the reception desk of Hawthorn Lodge. The thought of seeing Connor again made the journey fly by and she finally found herself walking up the path towards her new home with a mixture of trepidation and excitement. It was going to be so strange living on her own, but just to have peace and quiet, more or less total independence, not to be constantly bombarded with crap TV shows and slanging matches – to finally be her own person, was a wonderful thought. She just wished she could take the kids with her.

Hawthorn Lodge, despite the rather quaint sounding name, was a brand new modern building, not even a year old – the plaster had hardly dried on it. There had been some protests, she remembered, about it being built here, because the rumours were that it was intended to house ‘disturbed’ teenagers. The locals had visions of juvenile delinquents ripping up their flower beds and pissing on their prize winning roses. Even when they had found out its true nature, their attitude didn’t really mellow much. Having ‘those sort of people’ around made them feel uncomfortable, as if their disabilities might somehow be catching, that they’d suddenly feel their own IQ dropping as the undesirable influence tainted the air.

There was an intercom on the door of the main building and she pressed the bell with some apprehension, expecting Crichter to appear and send her packing. Lily was still trying to decide on the best curse to place on her, wanting it to be something worthy of her wickedness. In the meantime she had thought of a very satisfying curse to keep her away from Connor. It wasn’t Crichter that answered, but the squeaky, pleasant voice of Minnie Crumb that came on the other end. Lily stated her business and Minnie came and answered the door. She smiled when she saw Lily, but looked a little anxious. Lily suspected that was her habitual expression – having to work with Crichter was enough to make anyone rush for the valium.

“You said you were here to pick up a key?” Minnie asked, leading her through to the large reception area. It smelt of new carpets and air freshener, scrupulously clean, but very bland and sterile, apart from a couple of artfully placed rubber plants and generic, buy-by-the-metre art prints – a characterless wilderness of plastic, bright lights and gleaming metal.

“Yes, the key to 1 Hawthorn Flats. I’m moving in over the next few days and wanted to check it out.”

Minnie looked relieved, obviously fearing that Lily had come for the threatened visit and was going to cause yet more havoc. She had the distinct impression that Crichter had had quite a bit to say about ‘interfering kids who think they know it all’, when she got back to the home. Lily just hoped that Connor hadn’t got into too much trouble for coming to see her yesterday, although knowing what she did about Crichter made Lily fear the worst. Minnie went behind the desk to rummage for the key and was obviously having problems finding it. Lily was beginning to get very bad fairy vibes.

“Oh, they said that someone was moving in there. That’s nice, I’m glad it’s you. You never know what you’re going to get these days...  there are only a couple of other tenants so far, but they seem nice as well,” she mumbled, her head buried in a drawer.  Lily had the feeling that Minnie found practically every person she met ‘nice’, unless they were actually coming at her wielding an axe and foaming at the mouth, and even then she would probably put it down to youthful high spirits.

Lily drew in a breath, pulled her courage from her boots, and said:

“While I’m here, I wondered if it would be possible for me to just say hello to Connor? I promised I’d stop in and see him sometime, and as I’m here...”

Minnie’s head bobbed up. The nervous expression had set into Minnie’s face with a vengeance and was rapidly morphing into a very troubled frown.

“Oh, I am sorry, dear, but that won’t be possible, well, not today, anyway. I’m afraid Connor has been showing off a bit and we’ve had to keep him in his room for the time being, until he’s cooled down a bit.”

Minnie looked decidedly uncomfortable. Lily’s fairy sense wasn’t just tingling now, it was sending great pulses of electric current through her, warning her that something was very wrong.

“What do you mean, showing off?” she asked.

Minnie fidgeted, looking everywhere but at Lily.

“Well, he disappeared yesterday afternoon, just took off and we had to call the police out – we still don’t know where he got to, but he got out somehow, even though all of the doors were locked. Then last night he went totally berserk, screaming and trying to get out; he went for one of the male night attendants and knocked him for six – no serious damage, but he’s got a right shiner. That’s the second night running – the night before he was carrying on something wicked. I honestly don’t know what’s got into him – he’s usually such a good lad. The doctor had to restrain him and keep him sedated, until we find out what's going on with him.”

Lily knew exactly what was going on with him, he had been trying to get to her to protect her. She had to see him now, just to let him know she was all right – to lie to him at least. Lily grabbed for some persuasive argument to be allowed to see him, but nothing came. In desperation she said:

“Well, I’ll only stay a moment, just so that he knows I’ve kept my promise, just poke my head in the door – thirty seconds. I wouldn’t want him to think that I haven’t bothered. Please.”

Minnie looked distraught, wringing the hem of her cardigan, her pinched little face now a blotchy raspberry ripple.

“I’m sorry, dear, it’s more than my job’s worth.”

Lily had no choice, she would have to use her power on Minnie again and force her to let her see Connor. Then she realised she couldn’t do that, she couldn’t risk Minnie losing her job over this.

”It’s okay. I understand,” Lily said.

Minnie looked as if she had cancer of the puppy, her face a little moue of misery.

“I really am sorry. Perhaps another day,” she said.

“Sorry for what?” came the voice from behind. Lily turned to see Critcher, glowering at her. Lily glanced down at her lapel label and read, ‘Senior Care Officer,’ so she was in a superior position to poor little Minnie – no wonder the woman was a bundle of nerves. Lily hadn’t really taken a great deal of notice of her before in the library. She had been more concerned with getting Connor to go back to his seat and not cause trouble, but now that she could get a proper look at the woman, she could take better stock of her enemy. She was in her mid fifties and had that ‘I’ve lost all interest in sex’, hair style – a salt and pepper grey brown mix, cut short in a manly style, to suit her manly face. It was a face that had seen years of frowns and scowls, and probably no more than a few days of smiles. Deep lines had set in on her forehead and at the corners of her mouth, her eyes like two milky marbles peering from permanently narrowed eyes. Lily registered all of it, and felt the bile rise in her throat, her hatred for this woman almost consuming her.

“I just asked if I could say hello to Connor, but I’ve been told that’s not possible,” Lily said, her voice pleasant, thinking that it was probably a good idea to at least try the diplomatic route before she got the grenade launcher out, even though her immediate impulse was to turn Crichter into something slimy and then step on her. Images of what she had seen Crichter doing to Connor resurfaced with terrible force and it took every inch of her willpower not to retaliate.

“Too right, it’s not possible. He’s being punished,” Crichter said, with some relish, her face taking on the look that Lily had seen on Claire’s face a thousand times – ‘I have spoken, let no mortal challenge my indomitable will or feel my dreadful wrath’.

Lily felt the full weight of her malice tingle through her and she went into full attack mode – still disguising it beneath a veneer of civility.

“Punished? That’s a strange word to use for someone suffering with behavioural problems. You punish naughty children for stealing sweets, for picking their nose in public and flicking it at the vicar – you don’t punish people with mental health issues for having mental health issues.”

She managed to keep the smile in place, even though the effort was making her jaw ache.

“That’s not what I meant,” Crichter said, flushing a little and obviously realising she’d said the wrong thing. “I just misspoke, that’s all, a slip of the tongue.”

Lily didn’t allow her a chance to regain her composure – when a wounded animal was down you went for the jugular.

“Tongue’s can be tricky things,” Lily said, already thinking up a curse that would leave Ms Crichter wishing she never had a tongue. Her smile was now burning through her face like acid. Her muscles tightened, jaw clenched, preparing for battle.

Crichter, unfortunately, was a survivor – she was already back in the fight, fists balled and teeth bared.

“Connor was seen by the doctor and the prescribed treatment carried out for dealing with aggressive behaviour. He was restrained for his own and other’s safety. Not that it’s any of your business!”

“Perhaps I’m making it my business,” Lily said.

Critcher pulled her square, padded shoulders back and said:

“I think it’s time you left, young lady. Connor isn’t going to be able to have visitors in the foreseeable future. It was probably you that started him off in the first place. He’s never caused any trouble before, and then suddenly after meeting you at the library, he’s started acting up. You can’t tell me that’s a coincidence. I know a troublemaker when I see one.

“And I know when someone is covering up something they really don’t want anyone to know about.”

Lily said, giving Crichter a look that would have sheared through concrete. Crichter suddenly went very pale, the colour literally draining from her face, forehead down to chin and then disappearing out of sight below her neckline.

“What’s that supposed to mean, are you accusing me of something?”

Lily drew herself up to her full height, which truthfully wasn’t that impressive, but did put her a couple of inches above her opponent, and said:

“I think that we’re both aware our own sins and don’t need anyone else to point them out to us. Besides which, you aren’t going to be able to stop me seeing Connor indefinitely, anyway. I’m moving into Hawthorn Flats right next door and I’ll be seeing him all the time as he goes in and out.”

The colour returned to Crichter’s face with a vengeance, working its way through the spectrum as if it wasn’t quite sure what colour it preferred; it finally settled on purple.

“We’ll see about that!” she raged.

“Unless you are going to keep him locked in his room permanently?” Lily said, a sweet smile on her face now, knowing that she had won, even though she would have to beat a strategic withdrawal for the time being.

Lily threw one last malicious glance across at her new enemy. One thing was certain, Mavis Critcher was going to be spending a hell of a lot of money on toilet paper in the next few days and this time Lily wouldn’t hold back.

Lily almost forgot to go and see her new flat, her temper finally getting the better of her, but she remembered when she was already half way up the path and she turned back. She was still clutching the key in her sweaty palm and hadn’t even realised that poor, browbeaten Minnie had slipped it to her on the way out.

She peered through the window as she passed, shielding her eyes from the bright sunlight and wasn’t very impressed. She was even less impressed when she got inside, but location, location, location made up for everything.

Number One was really just a single room with a tiny bathroom, a toilet, small sink and microscopic shower, all in the most dreary nondescript grey – the same as the main building. The room itself was a bedsit, the bland magnolia walls begging for some sunny colour – which she apparently wasn’t allowed to change, according to the terms and conditions of tenancy. There was a sink and space for a small cooker and fridge in one corner, and barely enough room for the sofa bed, small table, built in wardrobe and hard backed chair. It had said in the letter that it was furnished – that was stretching the term to its limit. The small sofa pulled out to a bed at night. Terrific. It was a room for losers. Still it was all hers and it was right next door to Connor. That made up for all of its multitudinous failings.

Now all she had to do was get to see him and make sure that he was all right. She’d calmed down considerably, and could think more rationally, now that she’d had time to think it through. At least he was safe from Crichter for the time being – once Lily had laid the curse, Crichter was going to be far too preoccupied with keeping her bowels in check to even think about molesting Connor. All she had to do really was try and find out where Connor was in the building and go to him – she could go into stealth mode and just walk past any obstructions.

Lily walked up to the front door, full stealth mode operational, and peered into the lobby. Critcher was there but her back was to the door.

The security lock would present no problem to Lily, of course – one of her kind could get through any lock without breaking into a light sweat. She was never actually quite sure how it worked, but merely thinking of the lock opening seemed to coax the mechanism into clicking open. She supposed that she was using some form of telekinesis, but never really understood it. She could move most small items easily simply by willing it – it was one of the first lessons that Maggie had taught her – getting her to float her teddy bears in mid air, and opening and closing the bathroom door using just her mind. Larger objects presented problems; she’d never been able to move anything larger than a TV set, and that only with serious effort. She’d never tried it with an electronic lock before, though. She supposed it would be the same, wouldn’t it? There were parts inside that moved back to open the door – if they moved, she could move them. She tried willing it to open, and... nothing, not a click or a clack. Not good.