Anything, For You
—
Anything, For You
"Emma dear, we're going out," Aunt Julia's voice drew her away from her sketching. Emma looked up, trying in vain to put a bit more life in her eyes.
"What? Where are we going?" She said quietly, standing up and putting her pencils away. She never argued with her Aunt, never. Because of her strange and unloved childhood, Emma had a bit of a fear that if she acted too harshly, she might be sent away again. Deep down, she knew that Aunt Julia loved her, but the uncertainties were still there.
"One of your friend's parents called," Aunt Julia said, putting on her coat and handing Emma her own. She started to close up the shop as they walked outside. "They said it was due time for a celebration."
"A celebration?" Said Emma. It was cold and dreary outside, which fit. It almost seemed as if the entire world was mourning Tancred. "What for? Where are we going?" She certainly didn't feel like celebrating.
"You'll see, dear," Was all Aunt Julia said, and she looked strangely exuberant, which only made Emma feel worse. Perhaps Mr. Yewbeam and Charlie had accomplished something big, perhaps that was worthy of a party. But so soon after Tancred's death? Emma didn't really want to see her friends yet, especially Lysander. They stepped into a taxi and started away. Emma wondered whose house they'd be going to: Aunt Julia had only told the taxi driver to head towards the Heights. That alone caused another stab of pain into her chest. Emma struggled to keep her mind off of it; where could they be going? The Heights were home to quite a few of her friends, Lysander, Gabriel.. Tancred had lived there.
"Auntie, where are we going?" She asked again, but Aunt Julia merely shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips.
Frowning, Emma looked out the window. They were approaching the Heights. She was surprised when they drove past Grabriel's house, but it looked suspiciously empty. As they began to near Lysander's home, however, Emma felt a sinking feeling. She'd been avoiding all of them, honestly, but Lysander most of all. He'd been Tancred's best friend. She didn't want to explain to him about how she'd been too late. She knew he wouldn't blame her: Lysander was nothing if not understanding. But she would still blame herself. She'd been too slow getting to Tancred's father, and now he'd been drowned.
"Emma, we're here," Aunt Julia said. Emma had been too caught up in her thoughts to process where they were, and she stepped out of the taxi, curious. Her aunt finished paying the driver and approached her with a strange glint in her eye. "Come, dear," She said, beginning the long trek up to the stormy house. They were at Tancred's home. Why were they at Tancred's home? Whose cruel idea had it been to have a celebration at Tancred's old home?
"Yes, Auntie," Emma croaked. She began following her guardian on shaky legs, up, up, all the way up the hill. It was less windy than she'd ever seen the house like, and she thought that grief didn't seem to have an affect on Mr. Torsson's powers. Due to the lack of storms, Emma and her aunt were able to get up to the house fairly quickly. As they approached the iron gate, Emma kept her eyes on the ground. She didn't want to see Tancred's house. Not after his death, not this soon.
"Em, you made it!" Her head popped up. She knew that voice. It couldn't be-? But it was. In front of her, standing just before the gate, stood a tall, spiky-haired boy. His yellow hair blazed brightly as ever, and his blue eyes shone with life.
"How- how are- you- you were- you are- Tancred?" Not exactly the most intelligent thing she'd ever said. Emma stood, gaping with surprise as Tancred approached her with the biggest grin she'd ever seen on his face.
Tancred chuckled at her stunned expression. "The Flames saved me, Emma," He said wonderingly. "You helped, of course."
"How?" Was the only word that Emma could get out without sounding like an idiot.
And Tancred told her the story: how the Flames had found him in his bed that night, and how they hadn't left him. How they'd soothed his aches, cleared his chest, and completely, utterly, saved his life. He described how awful it had felt before: as if he'd been floating in and out of reality. "It hurt so badly," Tancred said, looking down at her with a gentle smile. "But it was worth it. You and the Flames saved me, Em."
Emma flushed. Now that her initial shock had worn off, she kind of wished that she hadn't been the first of her friends to arrive, other than Lysander. The dark-skinned boy was over to the side, talking to Mr. Torsson. She needed a distraction, desperately. "I didn't do that much, honestly," She said, avoiding his shining blue gaze.
"Of course you did," Tancred corrected, with the air of a person who was talking to a very small child. "You got my father for me, and you followed Dagbert into the place in the first place." He grinned again as she finally met his gaze. "I owe you now. You can ask me anything, and I'll do it if it's in my power." The purely irrational thing, was that he looked entirely sincere. He couldn't be, of course, Emma reasoned, but he was a good actor when he put his mind to it.
"Don't be ridiculous, Tancred," Emma scoffed.
"Anything," Tancred repeated, and his easygoing grin was gone. In place of it was a genuine, almost earnest expression. His stormy blue eyes seemed nearly saddened that she'd brushed off his offer so easily. "I swear, Em. Anything you ask, and I'll do it."
Emma was too flustered to muster anything other than the nod she gave to signify she understood his offer this time. Tancred smiled back, pleased that he'd gotten through to her, and left, heading towards Lysander with an extra spring in his step.
"Torrsons take life-debts seriously," A deep voice said, calmer than she'd ever heard him use. Emma looked up at Mr. Torsson, her eyes still wide. "Tancred has learned that. I agree with his judgement."
"I- I'm honored," She managed to say, cursing the stutter in her voice. "Sir, I'm not sure I deserve it. I honestly didn't do that much."
Mr. Torsson smiled at her warmly. His eyes glinted with an emotion Emma couldn't name, and a calm breeze flew through the air. "Of course you did, Emma Tolly," he said. "You brought me to my son. You were very brave." He grinned widely, and Emma suddenly realized how much the weather-monger resembled his son. "Just let him thank you in his own way. It'll be easier, probably. That boy is very stubborn."
"He is," Emma agreed, casting a glance over to where Tancred and Lysander were talking. Mr. Torsson patted her shoulder (which nearly succeeded in knocking her to the ground) with a meaty hand and swept away as another car pulled closer. Fidelio, probably, considering the size of the van. Emma stood, watching her two friends talk for a long moment before joining them.
Everything felt better. Even the weather was getting warmer, but that was probably just Tancred. And Emma was happier than she'd been in a while. Because he was alive.
—-
Heyyyyyaaaa! I've revently just reread the Charlie Bone series, and I really wish that we could've seen Emma's reaction to the fact that Tancred was alive! Because she was sooo torn up about it, there had to be at least a little blame set on her shoulders.
So yeah! Thanks for reading!