The Road to Bedlam: Courts of the Feyre, Book 2 (7 page)

    Blackbird smiled and said she would try. Fellstamp and Amber escorted them out.

    The Welhams stood up and hurried out together, perhaps to some other gathering more to their liking. The Tolly clan followed in their wake, the girls noisily comforting their mother while the boys followed, hands in pockets, stares sullen. The Longmans waited until they had all gone and then left quietly, Mrs Longman's face a blank mask while her husband laid his hand over his son's shoulders as they walked away, more for his own comfort than for his son's, perhaps.

    I was left with the remnants of the gathering, the head teacher, the staff, a few stragglers.

    Garvin turned to me. "We've brought the car round to the side entrance. Tate will deal with any remaining press. Any time you're ready."

    Blackbird caught my arm in hers. "We should go too."

    I nodded and was about to let her lead me out when the vicar caught my eye. He looked expectant.

    "Would you ask the driver if he'll wait a few moments?" I asked her.

    "Will you be OK?"

    "Yes, just give me a moment."

    I nodded to Garvin and he walked Blackbird to the side door, escorting her out.

    The vicar stepped forward, hands clasped at his waist, expression calm and solemn. "I wanted to say how much I appreciated your words, Mr Petersen. They were a comfort to everyone here."

    "It didn't work out quite how I'd planned," I told him.

    "Nevertheless, you managed to put into words what everyone was feeling, and provided a focus for their grief."

    I nodded.

    "The death of a child is the hardest to bear," he said. "In my line of work we do births and deaths quite a lot." He walked towards the side entrance and I walked slowly with him. "A child, though, that's the hardest."

    "My daughter was so precious to me."

    "The hardest part will be the weeks to come. She'll be in your thoughts when you least expect it. You'll find yourself looking for her at the oddest times. Our hearts, they trip us up sometimes."

    "I'll bear it in mind."

    "If you find yourself in need of someone to talk to, someone to share a thought or a memory with, you can always call me, night or day." He pressed a slip of paper with a phone number on it into my hand.

    "I'm not a religious man," I told him.

    "I didn't say you were. But sometimes a stranger can offer you something that those who are close, those who share your grief and your loss, cannot. Think about it."

    "I will. Thanks."

    "God go with you, and bring you comfort." He pressed my outstretched hand between his. "Safe journey. Think about what I said."

    "I will, and thank you for the service."

    "Goodbye, Mr Petersen."

    "Goodbye, Reverend."

    I turned and left through the side door. The car was waiting and I climbed into the back beside Blackbird. Garvin was in the front with the driver. Blackbird held my hand and we were driven home. Hardly a word was spoken. There was nothing left to say. When we reached the house, the driver drove really slowly to avoid the potholes in the muddy track, stopping short of the house where the ground was more solid. We thanked him. Garvin spoke to him for a moment while Blackbird and I went inside. Within minutes, Blackbird had rekindled the fire and the log she had placed was steaming and crackling.

    Garvin appeared. "The driver has gone. He offered me a lift but I said I would stay a while. I can stay for a while, if you want?"

    I shook my head. "Thank you for all you've done today, Garvin. Especially for the reading."

    "Anything for a friend."

    "We'll be fine." I was sure he could hear the lie in that.

    "I'll go then. Take care of each other."

    "I'll contact you in a few days. Maybe we can start training again?"

    "When you're ready, Niall. Give it time."

    He surprised me by hugging me, and then Blackbird, and then leaving without another word.

    "Just us then, love," she said.

    We sat on the battered sofa for a long while, huddled together, her head on my shoulder, me stroking her swollen belly. Eventually she had to move.

    "I'm getting stiff," she said. "I need to walk round."

    "I'm going to change out of my suit," I told her, "maybe have a shower."

    She stretched and relaxed, "Why don't you do that. You might feel better."

    Upstairs, I undressed, hanging the black suit in the wardrobe. I went into the bathroom and turned on the shower until the steam rose from it, then I stepped under, hopping in and out of water that was too hot, unwilling to turn it down. I filled the bathroom with fog until it was so thick you could see the droplets in the air. I let the water run down my face until there was no way to tell where the water stopped and the tears began. I stayed under there until I was scalded and wrinkled.

    When the shower began to cool, I turned off the water. Stepping out, I scrubbed myself with the towel. In the big bathroom mirror I could see only vague reflections in the misted glass. I let my head fall forward, put my hands on the mirror and tried to breathe. I stood there while my shoulders shook and hot tears joined the drips running down my chest.

"Oh, Alex, sweetheart. What will I do?"

    There was a stillness. Then a whisper of parting. Then a voice.

    "Daddy?"

THREE

The voice coming from the mirror was my daughter's. Prickles crawled down the back of my neck.

    "Alex?" I couldn't stop myself. Her name was out before I knew what I was saying.

    "Daddy?" She sounded hollow, her voice reverberated strangely. "Where are you?"

    Another voice burst into the conversation. A man's voice. "We have an intruder. Bring her down. I want her down now!"

    Wherever she was, there were other people there.

    "Alex, honey, where are you?" I strengthened my connection through the mirror. It glowed milky white beneath the condensation. Small sounds emerged, a persistent buzzing, distant footfalls running, the shuffling sound of a struggle.

    "I don't know. I can hear you but I can't see you. Stop it! You're hurting me. Ow!"

    "Honey, tell me what it looks like. Tell me what you see."

    "It's all white. They're all wearing white. Stop it, leave me alone!"

    The struggle intensified for a moment, then the sounds of conflict diminished. My connection started to weaken.

    Another voice: "Coming down in ten, nine, eight…"

    The connection was fading on me. "Alex! Talk to me, sweetheart."

    "S'all… white… white men." She sounded slurred and unfocused.

    "Six, five, four…"

    "Alex, stay with me. Tell me where you are!"

    The mirror glowed brighter as I focused more power into it to sustain the link. The temperature in the room dropped, chilling my naked skin.

    "S'white…"

    "Three, two…"

    The connection wavered. "Alex!"

    I poured power into the connection. The mirror glowed with harsh brightness, floodlighting the bathroom. The temperature plunged. Still I was losing her. I reached into the focus of power within me and wrenched it open, heedless of the consequences. The dark well in the core of my being dilated and darkness flooded into me. My skin went black, then fell into nothing; a dark hole in existence. My hands were outlines against the milky glass. The light dimmed and a nimbus of pale fire flared around me. The condensation on the glass swirled into frosted fractals around my fingers.

    Still I needed more. I drew it into me, pouring it into the mirror until the surface bulged under my hands. The connection was barely there, I was losing her. Power pulsed down my arms, emptying into the bottomless well that was the mirror.

    "Niall, please! Stop! You're hurting me, you're hurting the baby!" It was Blackbird's voice.

    I hesitated, and the connection snapped. The mirror bounced back under my hands, the whole surface oscillating as the link collapsed. I turned to her, angry for making me lose it.

    She was leaning against the door, her lips blanched, her skin grey, her other hand cupping her belly. The power faded from me, faced with that vulnerability. It slipped inwards and vanished.

    "What… are you all right?" I gasped.

    "What happened? What are you doing?" She sounded weak and frail.

    There was a blue-white flash, a simultaneous crack, and then a long low rumble that shook the foundations of the house. Blackbird looked up, then back to me, then around the room. Every surface was coated in delicate frost. The room looked like an ice palace.

    "It was Alex," I tried to explain.

    "What was? She's dead, Niall."

    "She's not. I heard her."

    "We went to her memorial service, remember?" She sounded strained.

    "I'm telling you I spoke to her. She's not dead." My teeth were starting to chatter. The cold was numbing.

    "Sometimes, Niall… the mind can't always accept…"

    "I'm not crazy!" She flinched and I tried to cool the anger from my voice. "It was her. I know my own daughter."

    She stepped hesitantly forward into the bathroom, wary that every surface was coated in ice. "Look, Niall." Treading carefully she went to the window and threw it wide. Outside, the forest had slipped back into deep midwinter. Every leaf, every tree, every blade of grass was white amid the gloom. "Look what you did."

    Another flash bleached everything into outline and then rumbled over the house, echoing out over the hills.

    "I… I spoke to her." I wrapped my arms around my naked chest, holding myself, trembling.

    "Spoke to who, Niall? Who was it you were talking to?"

    "She's not dead. There were people with her, living people." I was shivering now, with cold and shock.

    "How do you know?" She took a towel from the rail and draped it around my shoulders.

    "I heard them!"

    We were interrupted by hammering on the front door. Blackbird glanced at the stairs and then at me. "Put some clothes on," she said.

    She left the bathroom, leaving the door wide. I glanced back at the mirror, the traceries of frost outlining my hand prints in the glass. I put my hand in the place where it had been, letting a dribble of power leak into the glass.

    "Alex?" There was nothing. I let my hand fall away.

    Sharp comments were being exchanged downstairs. I thought I could hear Garvin. I pulled the towel off my shoulders and wrapped it around my waist. As I exited the bathroom he was coming upstairs.

    "Get dressed." he said, without preamble. "We're leaving."

    "Leaving? Where are we going?"

    "Out of here. We have about twenty minutes, maybe thirty, before they arrive. Put some clothes on."

    "Before who arrives?"

    "Just do as you're told. I'll explain later." He pressed me towards the bedroom. "Clothes," he instructed, "and boots. Quickly." He pushed me into the room and shut the door after me.

    I hunted out some underwear, a shirt and some trousers. I was just putting the trousers on when the door opened.

    "Fionh, what are you doing here?"

    "Same as everyone else. Clothes?" she asked.

    "I'm getting dressed as fast as I can."

    "Not those, your other clothes, and Blackbird's. Where are they?"

    "In the wardrobe and those drawers." I pointed to the chest against the wall.

    She took a black bin bag and shook it out so it filled with air. Then she opened a drawer and emptied armfuls of clothes into it.

    "Are you mad? What are you doing?"

    "I'm following instructions, which is what you should be doing. Garvin wants you downstairs." She continued filling bags.

    I pulled on my shirt and boots and went downstairs. In my kitchen, Fellstamp was emptying things into cardboard boxes. I could hear Garvin in the lounge talking to Blackbird.

    "It's too dangerous," he said.

    "It's dangerous to stay," she pointed out.

    "But maybe not that dangerous."

    "Would somebody tell me what the hell is going on?" I interrupted them.

    Garvin and Blackbird looked at each other. "I'll tell him," she said.

    "No, I will. You concentrate on getting as much packed as you can. Tate and Slimgrin will start shifting things as soon as they're packed. Niall, outside, please."

    Blackbird turned back to Amber who was packing books into boxes.

    I caught Blackbird's hand in mine and squeezed it briefly as I passed her to follow Garvin outside. He was standing in the middle of the lawn, looking up. I joined him. There was a massive thunderhead floating down the wind above the house. Lightning flickered menacingly in the dark heart of the cloud.

    "See that?"

    I nodded.

    "That was you. I don't know what you thought you were doing, but you pulled enough power to cool the air for a couple of miles in any direction. The cold air contracts and falls, displacing warm damp air and starting a convection current. That's the result." There was a stuttering flash, followed by an answering rumble.

    "It was Alex, Garvin. She's alive."

    "That's what Blackbird said. We can talk about that later. For now we have a different problem. See any other clouds?"

    I looked around. "No."

    "Neither do I." He nodded towards the tower of dark cloud. "That will be on tonight's news. A thunderstorm out of a clear sky. It'll be on flight control radar, meteorology radar, you name it. No way of hiding it now."