Grail of the Summer Stars (Aetherial Tales) (64 page)

She sighed.
Perhaps in another life, dear goddess.

“The Otherworld and I have a difficult relationship,” Rosie confided, startling Stevie out of her thoughts. “It’s not all sparkling waterfalls and singing stars. Stuff has happened to us here that’s…” She opened her palms as if to indicate that the battle of Albin and Aurata was the least of it. “Weird and odd and absolutely terrifying. I’m not ready for it yet. Sam’s even more bonded to Earth than I am. We love the place, we have family there, and we are not leaving. And Luc’s the Gatekeeper so he has to … well, keep the Gates. How about you, Stevie?”

“There’s not much there for me but…”

“Hey, you’ve got us. Come back with us. Please?”

“I was going to say that I’m with you. I love Earth too. And I’m not ready for all this strangeness. I’ve only just got used to being Stevie, so I want to be her for a long time yet, otherwise I’ll implode in a big puff of insanity and vanish. So, um, if it’s all right, yes, I’d love to. Thank you.”

She turned to follow Rosie and the others, then felt a gentle touch on her arm.

“Stevie?” Mist gave a sad, hesitant smile. “Where are you going?”

“Back to Vaeth with Rosie and Sam and Luc.”

“Oh.” His long eyelashes swept down and up. She couldn’t read him. “Won’t you stay here awhile?”

“In Tyrynaia?” She tried to keep her manner warm but disengaged. “No. It’s been wonderful, but I don’t really belong. You…?”

She saw the answer in his darkening expression. “I need to stay in Asru for now. Vaidre Daima wants to talk to me.” He rolled his eyes.

“Of course. Heavy Aetherial business. They’ll want you for all kinds of important duties and honors. I get that. And you’ve deserved it.”

A slight frown. “But they’ll want you too, Stevie. Didn’t you realize? You played a bigger part than anyone. You are older than the Felynx, closer to the Spiral than almost anyone here, which makes you ten times more valuable to them than I am. A fount of untapped wisdom.”

“Less of the ‘old.’” She grinned. “No, they can keep it. It’s not for me. I need to go back to Earth.”

“Already?”

“Yes. I have unfinished business. I need to see Daniel for one thing, make sure he’s okay. And Frances.”

“I understand,” he said softly. She looked into his eyes and remembered the first time she’d seen him, a hot sensation so intense she’d thought she might faint. The same rush came now, but she pushed it away.

What to say, though? She stumbled into a sentence without knowing where it would go. “Estel watch over you, and maybe…”

“Stevie.” He took a quick glance over his shoulder. “Here comes Vaidre Daima and crew. If you want to leave, go now. If they catch you, they’ll claw you into their web. You won’t get away. Believe me. Go!”

She hesitated for half a second, but knew he was right. The peacock-feathered deputation was bearing down on them. This was her only chance to slip under their radar. Mist touched her face, one finger tracing her cheek. “Go safely, be happy.”

She went, hurrying after Rosie and the others; glancing back only to see that Mist was already gone, swallowed into the heart of Tyrynaia.

*   *   *

Stevie walked up the drive towards Frances Manifold’s front door, gravel crunching under her boots. Pale green leaves were unfurling on the trees and she could taste spring in the air.

Returning from the Spiral, she’d stayed at Stonegate for a couple of days. The first thing she’d done was to phone the Manifold house, hardly daring to expect an answer. To her amazement, Frances herself had picked up the phone and spoken the code phrase that Stevie was supposed to deliver:
“Humphrey has landed.”

Now Stevie rang the doorbell, smiling widely as the door opened and an overexcited golden spaniel scampered out to greet her, tail thumping.

“Stephanie.” Frances received her with a heartfelt hug. Her arms were thin but strong. “Come in, my dear.”

“You look so much better. I can’t believe it. How long have you been out of hospital?”

“Oh, that wretched place. A week or so. At one point I thought I was only going to leave in a box, but somehow they pulled me through. They were all terribly kind, but, you know, I just wanted to come home.”

“Is he here?”

“He is. He’s been back a few days. I don’t know what to say—I haven’t got the words to thank you enough … but we can go through all that later. Come in, come in.”

“How is he?”

“Oh, lord, not in such good shape. But at least he’s home! He seems to have acquired a friend, too.”

Daniel was sitting half-swallowed by the biggest of the living room sofas. He looked thin and pale, his faded green T-shirt draining what little color he had. His right hand was encased in bandages to the elbow.

Sitting beside him was Patrick. They were drinking beer from cans and watching a tennis match on a small, bulky television set. Dusty sunlight groped in through the glass panes of the conservatory and the French windows.

It was a scene so gloriously normal that tears came to Stevie’s eyes.

“So, the world didn’t blow up then,” she said.

Both young men looked up, then sprang to their feet, beer frothing as they hurried to put down their cans. The next moment she was held in a three-way embrace, voices clamoring in her ears, “
Bloody hell, you’re back, are you all right, what happened, where’s Mist?
”

Humphrey ran in circles on the hearthrug, conveying massive, inexpressible joy as only a spaniel could.

When the hugfest had run its course, Stevie stepped back and was startled to be find her onetime counselor, Dr. Gregory, watching from a doorway. “Stevie!” He came forward, beaming, to give her a warm handshake with both hands. “Wonderful to see you.”

“Hi, I, er, I wasn’t expecting to find
you
here.”

Frances turned bright red and marched away into the kitchen. Dr. Gregory laughed and shrugged. “I was seeing her every day while she was ill. Flowers, grapes, books and all that. Hospital visits turned into quite a friendship. A really wonderful friendship.”

“Wow. That’s fantastic. Wow.”

“By the way, someone was trying to get in touch with you. I’ll remind Frances to give you the note before you go.”
Fin
, Stevie guessed. “I’ll leave you to it,” he added, following Frances towards the kitchen.

Stevie turned to Daniel, her thumb pointing over her shoulder, her mouth open in a silent, incredulous question.

“Yes, I know,” Dan sighed. “Mum’s dating our shrink. Great, isn’t it? She’s got him on tap to psychoanalyze me twenty-four hours a day.” His mouth curved in a crooked smile. “I’m joking. It’s great she’s happy, and not all alone anymore. He helped her get better, when I wasn’t here.”

“At least he’ll keep her out of your hair,” said Stevie. “I always liked him: it was the questions I didn’t like. But that’s history. So, no supervolcanoes while I was away?”

Patrick said, “There was an earth tremor and some kind of minor volcanic event in the wilds of Nevada. It made a mess of Jigsaw Canyon. You can find pictures on the net, but it barely even made the news.”

Stevie took this in with a muted sense of relief. She didn’t feel like a hero; the struggle with Aurata seemed very distant now.

“And you, are you okay?” Daniel asked anxiously. “What happened?”

“Everything’s fine,” she said, losing her battle against tears. “Thanks so much, Patrick, for getting him home. It must have cost you a fortune.”

“Oh, never mind that. We got standby flights.”

“But the medical bills…” She touched Daniel’s bandaged hand.

“It’s okay,” Patrick said patiently. “We can sort out the finances any time. It’s not important. Dan had to have surgery on his hand, but the crucial thing is that he should get most of the use back. Hopefully enough to hold a paintbrush.”

“I don’t know whether I want to,” Daniel muttered.

“Mate, there are ways and means!” Patrick spoke fiercely, as if they’d had this talk before. “You’ve heard of mouth-and-foot painters? Digital art? You can operate a computer just by
blinking
these days, and you’re hardly that far gone. A few broken fingers is no excuse!”

“That’s not the point.”

“Dan, can we have a chat on our own?” Stevie said.

They went into the conservatory. The condensation of winter had cleared, and the garden was greening up beautifully. Water tumbled through the mossy bowls of the water feature.

The first thing he asked was “What happened to Oliver?”

She told him, even the part where he’d spitefully burned all the artwork. Daniel groaned, pain creasing his eyes. A couple of tears fell. He rubbed his eyes dry.

“I’m so sorry, Dan. After the way he abused you, you should be thinking ‘good riddance,’ but I know things aren’t that easy.”

“Yeah, because I keep remembering the good parts. When I thought he was an angel who actually loved me … I can’t just switch that off. The betrayal makes it so much worse.”

“I know. I’m so sorry about the paintings, too. All that hard work, destroyed. But they’re still in my head, and I’m sure they’re in yours, if you ever felt like re-creating them?”

“God, not in a thousand years! No. The funny thing is that I’m almost glad. The whole experience was such a bad trip that I’m glad the evidence is gone.” He pointed into the living room. “I put all my sketchbooks on the fire, too.”

Stevie was shocked. “Did you? Even the one you left behind at the studio, with the sketch of Veropardus being burned at the stake, and the pictures of the Felixatus base? The first drawing you made of
me
?”

He looked down, his face grey with sadness. “Yes, even that. I’m sorry, but I had to. It was a sort of cleansing ritual.”

Uncertain, she touched his hand. “So, how are you, really?”

“I’m fine. Getting there. Patrick’s been amazing.”

Stevie tried to suppress a smile. “So I gather. And your mother?”

“Oh, she’s been great. We haven’t had a single argument! She even apologized for all the grief she gave me about my art career and said that whatever I want to do, she’ll support me. It’s wonderful, it’s all I ever wanted. We’re bound to start pissing each other off again once she’s used to me being home, but for now, it’s amazing. I’m so pleased she’s got a man friend, I can’t tell you. I’ll be fine with Dr. Gregory. Tom, rather. He’s nearly family. Mother even hinted that, if Patrick and I, er, got together, she would be fine with it. Incredible.”

“D’you think you will? Get together with Patrick, I mean? He has a partner in California so I thought he’d be going back.’”

“I know. Patrick said they’d been having problems, and he needs to sort things out.” Daniel colored slightly. “So it’s too soon to say. But we get on great, like we’ve always known each other. He’s so down-to-earth. I might end up going back to the States with him, who knows?”

“And were you serious, about giving up art?”

His thin face lengthened. “I’m an empty shell. Oliver sucked it all out of me. By the end I was so crazy and exhausted that now, even the sight of a paintbrush makes me feel physically sick. Typical, isn’t it? Mother is suddenly fine with my art, and I can’t do it anymore.”

“I’m so sorry, hon,” she whispered.

“I’m struggling, to be honest, Stevie. I keep having flashbacks. I’m on medication, seeing a counselor and all that crap. You know, I’m not being ungrateful, but I think … I feel awful saying it … but it’s probably best I don’t see you anymore. You bring it all back, and I need it to stop now.”

“Oh.” She stepped back, feeling she’d been thumped in the stomach. She understood, but it was still a rejection she hadn’t expected. A friendship lost. Unhappy silence stretched between them. She said, “Oh, Dan. If we’d never met, you would have been normal and happy. You’d never have known you were
naemur
, never got drawn into all this. I wouldn’t have screwed up your life for anything. Please forgive me.”

“Please tell me you are kidding?” A glint in his eyes suggested that he was going to be all right … eventually. “Yes, I’m glad it’s over, Stevie. But don’t get me wrong. It was a hellish ride … but even in nightmares, you can learn lessons and see wonders that, only later, you realize you wouldn’t have missed for the world.”

*   *   *

Stevie stepped off the light railway at Hockley and stood looking up at the station sculpture of giant interlocking cogs. An ache of wistfulness seized her. The curve of the road and the unique mix of old and new architecture was heartrendingly familiar. This still felt like home.

She floated in a mild state of melancholy. The note passed on to her by Frances had been a message from the nursing home where her foster-grandmother lived. They’d been trying to contact her for days, the nurses said. Nanny Peg was fading. So Stevie had gone straight there and sat by her bedside, fingers stroking the wispy white hair. Frail and shrunken, Peg had been deeply unconscious by then, but Stevie had held her hand and spoken softly to her as she drifted away on her last, gurgling breaths.

She saw Nanny Peg’s life force leave. It was a tiny bright mote, just like those that had poured out of the Felixatus. No less valuable. The mote had caught on the window pane—a fleck of down from the pillow, the nurse said—but Stevie had opened the window anyway and let the spark fly free.

Afterwards, she’d spent the night in a cheap hotel, barely sleeping. Instead, she kept a kind of vigil, thinking about everything that had happened. Especially Mist.

She hadn’t seen her
fylgia
since she’d come back from Asru. Her shadow-self seemed to have stayed in the Spiral, where it belonged. In an odd way, she missed her little ghost cat.

Now she entered the museum, ambushed by a wave of nostalgia and evocative scents: the musty smell of the old buildings, overlaid by the aromas of wood polish and coffee. She looked down the length of the shop and saw Fin behind the till, serving a line of customers.

Fin saw Stevie at once. Her eyes flashed wide with surprise, but she couldn’t abandon her task. That put a damper on a dramatic reunion. Stevie waited, feeling awkward. When the last customer had gone, she walked slowly up to the counter and said, “Hi, I’m back.”