~ Chapter 10 ~
At The Edge

After trying to count it herself several times, Valeria held out the small wad of unfamiliar bills Captain Flaherty had given her to the shopkeeper.

"I'm sorry, I'm not sure what you need of this," she said, hoping the older woman was trustworthy, yet having no choice but to trust her.

The shopkeeper, feeling awkward as well, pulled three bills from the thin stack and laid them on top of the cash register drawer, counting out coins to return to Valeria along with the other bills the girl had given her. "So, you've been in town how long, dear?"

The young girl knew she would have to answer or cause even more suspicion about herself, but she was determined to let on as little as possible about her reasons for being here. "Just two days."

"Ahhh-welcome- and can I help yeh with where to find anything else in town?" the shopkeeper offered, as she carefully placed the grocery items in a bag.

"No. I think I'm okay now. I'll just ask my uncle if I need to know anything else," Valeria lied. She knew it would seem odd to the townspeople if they knew she was staying here alone.

"I don't recall yeh gave me his name," the old woman pressed on.

That's because I didn't ,Valeria thought. "Well, you probably wouldn't know him. He's been here a very short time as well. Plus he usually brings his supplies when he flies in. He just sent me for a few things he forgot. Thank you," Valeria said quickly to end the conversation. She gathered her bags and set off through the door, hoping her responses had been enough to keep the town's curious minds at bay, for she knew the information would not stop here. She found herself hoping that taking the chance to buy supplies was worth it. Valeria wasn't even sure she'd end up using them, in case she decided to...but she was still trying to push those thoughts away.

The day was cold and foggy, the low-lying clouds settled in clumps over the rolling green hills. Valeria imagined it was quite colorful here in Ireland when the sun was out and it was warmer, maybe later in the spring. She tried to imagine wildflowers on the hills and birds singing. But then she thought of how much she missed days like that spent with Abuelita, and it made her sad.

The muddy earth sucked at the soles of her shoes as she walked, and she swung the plastic grocery bags at her side by the handles. It was still a long walk to the deserted cottage where she had been staying. Noticing several old, rusty biplanes sitting among the growing weeds at the side of the road, she soon passed the makeshift airfield she'd seen before, where her pretend 'uncle' landed his plane.

Valeria wasn't even sure what had led her to this place. She supposed it was the Muertos, even though she'd been brought here in full consciousness, so she could find her way back. She'd headed north from the port near Shannon, then through the little town of Heathersby where she'd just made her purchase.

Valeria walked several miles north of town, then headed toward the ocean. In the distance, she could see the deteriorated, yet huge walls of the castle. Enormous pieces of stone had fallen from the walls with age, yet the once-magnificent building was still regal and impressive, proud to be standing to the end. No one lived there now, of course, and probably had not done so for centuries.

The castle was built into a hillside, most of it's view facing due south, the direction from which the enemies of its time would have come. Blocked from the ocean by another low hill, its original occupants were fairly well protected by steep, craggy cliffs that fell to the water some one hundred feet below. But to be certain of no attack by sea, a lookout had been placed at the edge of the castle lands atop the grand cliffs. A small stone cottage had been built there of the same strong materials as the great castle, but being of smaller proportion, it withstood the years well. It was here Valeria was staying, until the Muertos devised a plan to lure the Potter boy to join her.

Turning from the main road, Valeria scanned ahead and behind her. She had to be certain no one saw her out in the open heading for, or entering, the little stone house. Another ten-minutes walk across the rutted, rocky meadow, and she would be there.

As she passed the castle, she gasped, stopped, and turned to stare. From the corner of her eye, she could have sworn she saw something in the window, a movement, a color, a shape at odds with the solid black she could see in all the others. She wondered if it could have been a reflection, but there was no glass to reflect, and no sunshine today could pierce the fog to reflect it.

She froze, studying the castle for a minute or two, hoping there was no one watching her cross the meadow who would report back to the townspeople. But nothing else appeared. Then, a few moments later, a raven, squawking loudly, took flight from another window and Valeria finally took a breath. Of course. It had been just a bird, probably nesting in the dry warmth of one of the few castle rooms still intact. Valeria walked the rest of the way quickly, nonetheless.

Having taken her by surprise, the raven incident had made her a bit restless and edgy. She slipped inside the cottage just as she began to feel nauseous and dizzy, knowing she might as well lie down and wait. They were coming.

Valeria stretched out on the small bed against the wall. Apparently, the last people to reside here had left quickly, which conveniently left behind some old, dusty, tattered furniture. It had taken a few hours to beat enough of the dust away that she could at least survive without gagging on it every time she moved something. It might even be nice to live here, she thought, if one had the will to live.

The thought still took her by surprise each time it came, though it came so often now. She used to love to be alive and fought to stay that way, even when her problems set the odds against her. A smile and hug from Abuelita, a lovely sunny day, an unknown puppy in the street wagging his tail after her: small things, but they affirmed her belief that life was good, and that it was definitely worth living.

But the last year had taken a horrifying toll. Valeria had begun to believe more and more that there was no reason for her existence, except to do evil to this boy called Potter. It had become almost impossible to fight the suicidal thoughts. Her pain and dark depressions were unbearable. She felt her grandmother would be better off without her, and there was no one else to care. And she was certain evil, or insanity, or both, were now a part of her; they fed upon her ravenously.

The cliffs called to her now, and she wondered if the Muertos had brought her here for that reason. Certainly no one would survive a fall from there. With nothing else to occupy her thoughts, her mind rotated on the possibility that the cliffs would be their weapon of choice to do away with her, or Potter, or both of them together. One step, or one push, and the deed would be done.

The beings invaded her mind so forcefully this time, she felt herself convulse with the black despair and fear. The long, tedious instructions the Muertos gave told her Potter would be coming soon, that she did not have much longer to wait. She was told how to find him, what to say once she did, how to use someone else to trick Potter into coming to her here. Though Tom was not there, his echoes were in the background of their lesson- "be my eyes, be my eyes...".

It was a very long one, this session, and she was tired when she returned to consciousness. But even through the exhaustion, she shot immediately from the bed, and ran outside, where the day had turned to darkness now.

Retching until she could scarcely breathe, she finally sat straight from her crouched, kneeling position to get some air. Her mind thought back to what they'd said. The instructions so explicitly painted a picture of how she was to cause Potter's death, her reaction was not only mental, but physical. How she hated them still, but she was so weary from the battle.

That person, whom she'd somehow reached in her mind-he'd said to hang on, said the pain was from fighting the evil. But it just hurt so badly. He wanted to give her hope, he said to use his strength. She tried to visualize what he was like-his voice was fairly deep-probably tall, and he felt strong within himself, and comforting. But where had he gone-how was it possible he could help her anyway? It was just the insanity again.

Hearing the crashing waves on the rocky cliffs below, Valeria slowly and deliberately walked to the very edge. It was so foggy, it was impossible to see the bottom, though she could hear the breakers even louder from here. It wouldn't be too hard to do, she thought. You couldn't even see the cliff bottom racing up to meet you, just falling and falling through misty fog...

Whoever Potter was and however much Tom hated him, the boy with the scar might have a fighting chance if she weren't here to lure him. At the very least, she wouldn't be the one who had to do it. Her pulse was racing, she knew she'd have to reach deep inside to find the courage-or was it just the ultimate cowardice? Though her legs felt like lead, she managed to lift one foot from the ground and lean forward toward the edge. It wouldn't be too hard to do...