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Chapter 24
Golden Auroras
Mrs. Coulter was nestled between two sleeping children as they sat on a train headed to London—and away from Cittàgazze and the spectres.
She'd shoved three duffle bags into the overhead above them, filled with clothes and supplies from the department store. They didn't need very many clothes, really: one light coat, a sweater, a couple pairs of pants, a few shirts to change into, enough pairs of undergarments to go between washes in a sink or, if needed, a river. People often overpacked when they traveled, lugging around over-bulging suitcases full of outfits they'd never wear. Mrs. Coulter had even done that herself before, and thought back to her lavish closets back in her London full of clothes she didn't even remember purchasing.
Things were different now, Mrs. Coulter thought, sighing. Her life wasn't what it once was: luxurious and full of power and control. Now, she was simply surviving. They were all doing their best to survive and move forward. They packed for necessity and for uncertainty. Even the golden monkey couldn't argue as he sat restlessly in her handbag, picking at the zipper to one of the inner-pouches.
Is that what she had been prepared for, all those weeks ago when she and Lyra were first reunited by the bridge? Did she have any idea what was ahead of them? She hated confronting the truth about it, as natural as it was to reflect on prior actions and major decisions. What she hated most of all, perhaps, was the gnawing hysteria that she and Lyra were in completely over their heads.
So, she tried not to think about it if she could help it.
Instead, as they rode on through fields and pastures toward the big city, Mrs. Coulter thought about the spectres, and about what had happened at that tower. Whatever she'd been expecting upon crossing the bridge, it certainly wasn't that. She'd seen what they'd done to that red-haired man, with a sort of detached fascination at the time but now more and more horror. They sucked the life entirely out of it, as if it were nothing. Then she'd seen them herself, when she exited the tower too far away from Will and the knife for the spectres to stay clear of her. While Lyra had yelled and screamed and feared for the worst.
That moment seemed to last a lifetime, while simultaneously barely passing any time at all. She'd felt Lyra's hand, insistent as it curled itself into hers and pulled. She'd also felt the sharp sting of the golden monkey's claws scratching into her shoulder as he leaped off her and into the foray of the spectres, snarling and lashing out with all of the might and fury he'd ever possessed.
Mrs. Coulter even thought of Asriel, briefly, as she gazed in front of her and wondered if that would be the last thing she ever saw, and if her moment with Asriel on the mountain would be the very last they'd ever share. Her mind, it seemed, was more prone to wander during these strange, new times. It wandered to places she didn't even know she wanted to go.
Will was sitting with his head only just barely touching Mrs. Coulter's shoulder, still out cold from earlier at the tower. Lyra was folded in by her side, head against her chest. They'd only just made the train, as the events from earlier in the day had been increasingly time consuming in ways none of them could expect. Mrs. Coulter had done her best to wash Will's wound and change his bandage, before changing his bloodied clothes and going back into the department store and packing full bags of supplies for all of them. And here they sat, at peace for the moment. They were both so sweet, and so innocent.
"Where am I?" Will was up after a few more minutes, eyes still deep full of sleep. His hand had been freshly wrapped before they left but was still rather swollen. His body looked tired, and like it'd undergone something incredibly strenuous. Mrs. Coulter smiled at him, taking her left arm to brush the sweaty hair out of his face.
"We're on a train to London," she explained, "to meet with Dr. Malone."
"The—what about the knife!"
Will fished around in his pocket and then relaxed when it felt it: the knife tucked away in his sheath. Mrs. Coulter titled her head then, considering him. Had he thought she'd stolen it? She didn't miss the panicked and suspicious look that flashed over his face, darkening his features for the few moments they'd occurred. There was a part of him that very much still didn't trust her, it seemed. And she couldn't entirely blame him.
"Shh," Mrs. Coulter simply said to him, putting her arm around him and snaking her hand up to cup the side of his head. She placed a gentle kiss on the top of his head, aware of a woman a few seats away staring at them. They were drawing too much attention and she had to fluff it off. "Can't talk here," she added, her voice barely a whisper. "People staring."
He met her eyes then, understanding dawning along with more exhaustion. "'M so tired," he said after a few moments, his eyes drooping again.
"Just sleep." Mrs. Coulter shifted so that her shoulder was lowered to him. She patted it with her free hand, and he glanced at her hesitantly. "Rest now. We'll be there in thirty minutes or so."
He nodded and then he went back to sleep, with Lyra stirring yet remaining deep in rest herself as they grew closer to London.
Even though Mrs. Coulter had already experienced adjusting to Will's Oxford, London was another ordeal all together.
The train station was larger and busier than the one in her own world. It was overwhelming, really. The golden monkey shrank back in the handbag at all of the rustling to and fro around them. Lyra clung to Mrs. Coulter's side, her hand in hers as she stared at all the people around them. They'd grabbed their bags and now stood on the platform, unsure where to go.
"Have you ever been here before, Will?" Mrs. Coulter asked the boy after a few helpless minutes.
"Yes," he said, "but not on a train. My mum and I drove up a couple times before, to some friend's house. But I…I dunno where we are right now."
Of course he doesn't, the monkey thought to her, bitterly. He's just a child. They both are. What are we doing here, Marisa?
"That's alright," Mrs. Coulter said, fluffing her daemon off. "We'll find our way. Come along, let's not dally too much here."
Dr. Malone had written an address down on a napkin, telling Mrs. Coulter to meet her there later the day after their meeting. They were running a tad behind, given the events with the knife, but Mrs. Coulter felt they had no choice but to keep going.
"Excuse me," she said to a man passing by, reaching out to touch his arm as he paused. "I'm supposed to be meeting my husband with my children but I'm afraid I copied down the address without knowing where to go. Do you think you could please kindly help me?"
He gave her the general direction to go in, as the shop (another coffee shop, Mrs. Coulter learned) wasn't too far away from the station. They wouldn't miss it, he assured them. Coffee Emporium, with a big electronic sign.
This is too much, the monkey gasped, feeling increasingly trapped and uncomfortable as they pressed forward.
Hush, she thought back to him, more stern than comforting as they pressed forward.
"This isn't like our London," Lyra observed as they crossed a street, where cars lined up in droves behind bright yellow gadgets with blinking lights.
"No," Mrs. Coulter agreed, looking at street names and buildings and wondering how it could be so different. Oxford was different, but not overly so. Jordan didn't exist, of course, but the general areas were similar enough, albeit with different technology. Multiple worlds were not entirely new to Mrs. Coulter, but their particularites were, as she'd never stopped to study the world's history to see what, exactly, was different and caused such divergences.
It was fascinating, but Mrs. Coulter didn't have time to be fascinated. They had to meet with Dr. Malone to figure out what, exactly, was happening. Why were people looking for Lyra? What did they want with Will? Where could they go to be safe?
"There," Will said after a while, gesturing toward a large green sign branding "Coffee Emporium." Mrs. Coulter felt relief wash over her as they picked up their pace and then entered the building, eyes scanning the crowds of people for Dr. Malone's dark mop of hair.
"There you are!" they heard a voice call out to them then. Dr. Malone was suddenly by their side, eyes wild and mannerisms insistent as she ushered them over to a table. "What happened to four o'clock? Blimey, it's been hours!"
"I know," Mrs. Coulter began, gesturing for Will and Lyra to scoot into the booth before her. "A lot has happened, Dr. Malone. So much, in fact, I haven't had a chance to properly think."
They began to fill her in—mostly. Lyra and Mrs. Coulter were on the same page, painting a tale that was mostly true but leaving out some of the most delicate parts, like the knife and what it meant. Dr. Malone had noticed Will's hand, though, and questioned it, which Mrs. Coulter had deftly played off as an injury from a fall.
"So you see, Dr. Malone," Mrs. Coulter was finishing, "we are quite in the bind."
"And we need your help," Lyra added, her face bright as she leaned comfortably on the table. "Which I know you can provide, and which I know you want to do, too."
"What can I possibly do?" Dr. Malone seemed genuinely puzzled now, looking from Lyra to Mrs. Coulter with unease. "I'm afraid I don't know how helpful I can be, especially here outside my lab."
Mrs. Coulter didn't know, either. Both she and the golden monkey were growing irritated, as their entire entanglement with Dr. Malone was all Lyra's doing. All of it. She'd insisted on needing to see a scholar, with the alethiometer egging her on. She'd seen Dr. Malone's work with Dust and told her more than was probably prudent, which had clearly caught the attention of local authorities. And as much as Mrs. Coulter didn't want to push Lyra too far, to lose her trust, to try and control her, there was only so much she could withstand.
Before she had a chance to suggest something, however, Lyra said something that caught them all off guard:
"But you will, Dr. Malone. Trust not me, but God himself that you will. Remember what I told you about communicating with your Shadows. All will be revealed for you then."
Trust God himself, Mrs. Coulter thought back to herself, stunned as she watched Dr. Malone's eyebrows raise almost to the top of her head. Of all things she'd imagined Lyra might say, it hadn't been that. She knew Lyra's belief in higher powers was as wishy washy as the Northern wind.
"But…what...how did you…" The scientist simply gaped at both of them, her eyes now widened again with such burning curiosity Mrs. Coulter almost felt scalded.
"The alethiometer knows things," Lyra whispered, her voice rather dramatic now. "And we have to trust it."
"And what else does it say?" Mrs. Coulter asked, still feeling uncomfortable. "What are we meant to do now, Lyra? Where do we go?"
"It doesn't say about that," Lyra frowned. The girl glanced over at Will, who was following along carefully with a shadow of concern flecked in his eyes. "All it says right now is to trust Dr. Malone, and to help Will, and stay the course."
This is madness. The golden monkey was wiggling around in the handbag now, which any patron could have easily seen if they'd been looking. We can't do this, Marisa. Let's get out of here. Take Lyra and run. Start a new life. Get away from everything.
The golden monkey was the practical side of her in most of these situations. He was the logos to her pathos, the voice of reason amongst her passion and her whims. But right now he was distracting. They didn't have time for such anxiousness, such flighty plans. They were here and they had to deal with it, which wouldn't be easy. But it was the choice they had made and had to now follow through.
"Do you know of a safe place we can stay, Dr. Malone?" Mrs. Coulter finally asked, feeling quite exhausted, again. Everything they had done was just entirely exhausting. "We've had a long couple days and unfortunately there are people trying to hurt us. We need to make a plan, but we also need to rest."
Dr. Malone had offered up her cousin's house, who lived just outside the city and was away on business travel for the year. Dr. Malone had the key and kept watch on it every so often, and was happy to host them for the time being.
"What's gonna happen to us here?" Will asked Mrs. Coulter as they followed Dr. Malone to the street, where they'd look for a car to take them to the house.
The poor thing was very pale, as he rested his injured arm in his coat pocket while he lugged around his duffle bag.
"Let me," Mrs. Coulter offered, moving to take the bag from him. He didn't protest it, so she slugged it around her arm with her handbag, which jutted against the monkey and caused him to hiss at them through the fabric. "You need to rest, darling. You don't look well."
They would be alright, Mrs. Coulter determined, even though she didn't entirely know how. They'd keep a low profile for now. When he wasn't looking, Mrs. Coulter had stolen some money from Boreal, which could give them food and shelter for at least a little while. There would probably be a time, however, that they had to make a choice about whether or not to go back, and what to do.
This wasn't their world. Mrs. Coulter felt it in her skin and in her bones. She didn't belong here, not really. And part of her didn't want to remain here indefinitely, which appeared to be the course they were on according to Lyra and the alethiometer. Mrs. Coulter hoped they'd finish their business soon, and that she could perhaps clear some things up before taking Lyra and going back to their world. That was wishful thinking, of course, which was maybe all Mrs. Coulter had left at this point, in the wake of a multitude of things happening beyond her control and beyond even her own understanding.