Second Night (41 page)

Jemima swallowed hard and reached out a grateful hand for him to hold, while she tried to find the words to explain how the magical afternoon had almost ended in disaster.

‘We were nearly home,' she began. ‘I thought I'd take the short cut so that I could turn Freyja back out with the others and no one would know we'd been away. We were in sight of the paddock and the horses, and then suddenly Freyja made a horrible screaming noise and reared up, and I couldn't hold on. I fell off and banged my face on a branch. When I looked up there was blood everywhere and she'd gone.' She closed her eyes and gripped his hand and shuddered.

‘Go on.'

‘Then I thought I saw a bird. It was black. I think it was a crow. But the sun was low and the light came right into my eyes, and it just disappeared. It was weird. I was looking at it and then it was gone. The weirdest thing is, I'm sure I saw Kyri disappear too.'

‘How?'

‘She vanished with the bird.'

‘Tell me exactly what happened.'

‘I don't know. It was hard to see but I saw her disappear. I know I saw that.'

‘Then what happened?'

‘That was weird too, because suddenly she was standing beside me and breathing on my face like she was trying to help me. Then you came and found us.'

‘So she didn't disappear, did she?'

‘I suppose not, but what about the bird?'

‘It was probably a rook.'

‘It wasn't a rook and it can't have been a ghost. You don't see ghosts in daylight, do you?'

Caz shook his head. It was easiest to lie. ‘No.'

‘So what was it then?'

Everything about her story suggested visitation, but the marks on her face should have faded within minutes.

‘I don't think it was anything,' he said calmly. ‘I think you passed out, maybe only for a couple of minutes, but you took a pretty big bang in the face and things get mixed up in your mind when you're out of it. Doing rituals up at Thunderslea don't help either.'

‘It wasn't a ritual. It was just a ceremony to the Goddess to help Andy.'

‘Call it what you want, gods and goddesses drive a hard bargain.'

Jemima looked doubtful. ‘But I got it right this time and it worked, didn't it?'

‘It did,' he agreed.

She brightened immediately. ‘It was a perfect ceremony and Freyja was perfect too. She was amazing, even better than Rúna to ride. It's such a shame that it all went wrong at the end.'

‘It doesn't take much to spook Freyja these days.' His tone was commanding. ‘Look at me, Jem.' Her eyes were wide and clear grey. He was reminded of the sea.

‘You're not taking her out ever again,' he said. ‘Do you understand me?'

Jemima's eyes filled. The whisper faltered. ‘Not even with you?'

‘Not even with me. I don't let the old man risk Freyja. I won't let you either. You'll have me to answer to if anything happens to her again and it will be a lot worse than being gated by Ma. I'll see to it that you're banned from the yard for life.'

Tears rolled down Jemima's cheeks. She looked away, trying not to sob. ‘Don't be angry with me. Please don't be angry.' Devastating disappointment set her heartbeat quivering.

‘I'm not, but you have to understand that you can't weep your way out of your responsibilities any more. Ceremonies aren't baby games, Jem. They come with a big price tag and you have to grow up and pay. We all have to pay, even the horses, and I won't let you risk Freyja again. I want you to take responsibility for what you're doing when you go to Thunderslea. Next time let me know first, and Kyri and I will keep a look out for you in the forest. I want you and Nanna back in one piece.'

She studied his face anxiously. She had no doubt that once he made up his mind to ban her from the yard it really would be for life. But his eyes were kind and he touched the end of her nose, as he always did when he was being extra nice.

‘Now you should sleep,' he said. ‘It's getting late and I've still got a lot to do outside.'

‘Will you stay with me while I go to sleep?'

‘Yes. Let's get you settled.' He gathered up the cloak and the headband, and pointed to the dressing room door. ‘Is that where they came from?'

She nodded. ‘The key's in the dressing table and there's a hanger in the long wardrobe.'

He went about the room closing the curtains and seeing to the fire. She sat up while he straightened the bed and shook the pillows, and then lay back gratefully, snuggling under the covers. He took her hand and sat down beside her.

‘At least Julien won't have to see me looking like this now that I'm gated,' she murmured drowsily. ‘But I think I know why I had the accident. It's because I didn't do enough blood at the ceremony.'

‘Well, you've done enough now for a hundred ceremonies.'

‘Do you think so?'

‘I know so. Next time stick to water from the spring. It's just as good for what you want.'

‘Okay. Don't forget to bring me some back when you're up there tonight. It goes blue when I put my hand in it. It'll make me better.'

Her eyes closed. When he was sure she was soundly asleep, he lit a candle and carefully examined her damaged face. The wounds were healing normally. It would take several weeks before the scars were no longer visible. But whatever had happened that afternoon was no figment of her imagination. The mares' reactions were confirmed on film.

My enemy grows bold,
he thought.
The fight's out into the family now and he must be challenged. I will cast the runes.

He stood up slowly. Jemima was deeply and peacefully asleep, her red hair tousled over the pillow. He realised how different she looked from him. Theirs was a similarity in expression and body language rather than the few physical features they had in common.

We all wear the imprint of our ancestors. Which of them sits beside us and shares the watch?

Sir Jonas spent the evening in the observatory. He had wrapped up warm and opened the shutter, tracking the moon across the sky while he waited for Caz to take the mares for their customary run. When the clattering of Freyja's and Rúna's iron-shod hooves rang under the dome as they passed in front of the house, he left the telescope and knelt on the top step of the ladder, steadying Sir Julius's antique mahogany spyglass on the lip of the dome aperture before he trained it on the viewpoint on the hills.

The blue eye watched Caz trace the outlines of the casting circles with the tip of the spear in the thick hoar frost covering the smooth stone at the crown of the hill. The eye widened when the boy raised his hands to cast the runes and blinked in bitter frustration that no instrument in the observatory could mark how they fell. But the set of Caz's shoulders as he stood up and threw his arms around the Galdramerr's gleaming neck told the old man all that he needed to know.

‘He has cast the Runes of the Deathless!' he gasped, ripping off the eyepatch and raising his afflicted gaze to the gleaming yellow star directly overhead. ‘May the God strike him down if he has cast all three!'

The mares' pale coats shone silver-bright under the hard, white face of the moon. They gathered around the boy, calling out as he raised the spear and shouted his triumph. His voice echoed around the valley but Sir Jonas failed to catch the words.

‘We await you, Shape-Changer! We await you!'

DECEMBER

CHAPTER 70

Percy Poore woke up with a start and realised it was still daylight. There was no pale horse crashing gigantic hooves down on the Jeep and sending it careering off the road into the manor wall. There was no demon rider staring at him through the cracked windscreen, and no sign of the weird blue spook-lights that had followed him, as he drove the damaged vehicle home, and crept down the bedroom walls every time he closed his eyes. The thumping pain in his head had reduced to a mild throbbing over his swollen nose. He pulled irritably at the surgical brace around his neck and groaned.

‘Perce!' His wife shouted from the bottom of the stairs. ‘Do you hear me, Percy?'

‘Yes, yes! Tone it down, will you?'

‘I'm dishing up! Come down and eat, Percy!'

‘I'm coming, woman!'

‘Hurry up then, or else your dinner'll be cold.'

‘Give a man a minute, will you?'

By force of habit he wiped the back of his hand across his broken nose. The bone grated. He yelped in pain. Footsteps were coming up the stairs. He pushed back the bedcovers and sat up, holding his head in his hands. Ivy came into the bedroom.

‘Are you feeling poorly again, Perce?' she asked anxiously.

‘Of course I'm poorly,' he grumbled. ‘I'm rotten, rotten all the way through.'

‘You'll be better for a bit of food. Come on now, let me give you a hand.'

She helped him out of the bed and into his dressing gown, tying the silk cord firmly over his rotund belly. He scuffed his feet into his slippers and allowed her to lead him to the top of the stairs. He could smell meat roasting and vegetables steaming, and felt reassuringly hungry.

‘Are you going to be all right coming down these stairs?' she asked.

He pushed away her arm. ‘I will if you get yourself out of the way and give a man a clear shot. Get down where I can see you, so you can pick up the pieces if I slip.'

She stood at the bottom of the stairs watching each painful step.

‘Take it steady now, Perce,' she said. ‘There's no need to rush. Shall I fetch you some more painkillers?'

He glared at her out of tiny bloodshot eyes, shouting, ‘I don't want no more of those old pills! Get young madam off her idle backside and over to the pub for a decent glass of beer! And get the food on the plates! Do what you're paid to do, woman!'

‘Your Dad's feeling better,' she told Genista in the kitchen.

Percy sat down at the head of the table in the little dining room. The window looked out over the strip of paving he insisted on calling ‘the patio'. It was temporarily hidden under a heap of sparsely berried holly branches covered with a tarpaulin held down at each corner by a garden gnome. Someone had forgotten to turn on the pump for the fountain he had recently installed in pride of place in the middle of the little lawn.

‘A couple of days in bed and everything's gone to the dogs,' he muttered irritably. ‘I've got to get myself going and start getting stuff delivered. I can't afford to get laid up, what with Christmas just around the corner and all.'

He picked up his ominously quiet phone and shook it. He checked it once again for messages. The screen was blank. Ivy appeared at his elbow with his dinner.

‘There now,' she said, putting down the plate. ‘There's a nice bit of roast pork and crackling, and I roasted plenty of spuds in case you want extra.'

She had poured a liberal helping of instant gravy all over the plate and dropped a dollop of apple sauce next to the meat. Percy poked at the soggy brown vegetables.

‘What we got here?' he demanded.

‘There's roast parsnips, a few Brussels, a couple of carrots and some of those little French peas they reckon are good for invalids.'

Percy shoved the peas onto the side of the plate. ‘Well, the invalids can take ‘em back to France where they came from then. Where's my beer?'

The front door banged and Bryony came in with a pint glass brimming over with dark brown ale. She had smudges under her eyes. Her face was very pale. She looked listless and unhappy.

‘And about time too,' growled Percy. ‘Did you see Si? What did he have to say for himself?'

‘He says he's glad you're better.'

‘Is that it?'

‘Yes.'

She put the beer on the table in front of her grandfather and sat down. Genista poured wine for herself and her mother. The women took their places and began to eat. Bryony hunched over the table, picking lethargically at her plate.

Ivy shook her head in despair. ‘You'll be making yourself ill if you don't eat, my girl.'

Bryony ignored her.
It'll just serve everyone right if I do,
she thought despondently.
At least it'll get me out of doing the Christmas fair. My whole life's a nightmare.

She'd had stayed up late watching movies until long after the others had gone to bed and then she couldn't sleep because Percy was snoring and making the walls shake. She had sat down at the dressing table, sorting through her make-up boxes. At least Mirror Girl never looked like a sleepless mess. Her eyes were always bright and looked really green, like Genista's, and her blonde highlights were always perfect. She looked pretty good for a depressed wreck who still couldn't believe that she was related to Fig Petter. Bryony was pleased, but at the same time she felt a bit put out.

‘No one'll believe how bad I feel with you going around looking like that,' she had told her.

Mirror Girl had smiled and come closer, letting her whole face fill the glass so that she was looking right into Bryony's eyes.

‘But I do it because I care about you, Bryony,' she'd said, in her strange little voice. ‘I always care about you. Did you know that your eyeliner just smudged? I wouldn't buy that one again if I were you.'

Bryony had thrown it into the bin before she went back to bed to sob herself to sleep.

Percy stared at the empty place beside his granddaughter. ‘So where's young Carl then?'

‘He's working.'

‘What do you mean? He don't work Sundays.'

Bryony sighed. ‘He's working every day until Christmas. He says he's getting me a diamond crucifix with his commission.'

‘Well, that'll be nice, won't it?' said Ivy encouragingly.

‘I suppose.'

‘What do you mean, you suppose?' demanded Percy. ‘Diamonds are diamonds, girl. He must be fond of you, mustn't he, if he's prepared to fork out on you like that?'