The World to Come

by Eildon Rhymer

What if the Dark had won at the end of Silver on the Tree? The world is sliding into darkness, and only tattered remnants of the Light remain. Will, Bran and the Drews grow to adulthood, and each to their own destiny in this World to Come.

Part two: chapter fourteen

The price

The doorbell rang. Jane's mother froze with the fork half way to her lips. Jane put her cutlery carefully down, so her hands could tremble safely, without her mother knowing.

"Who could it be?" her mother wondered, worrying at her lip.

Jane could not remember what it had been like to live in a world where a doorbell ringing unexpectedly had been a cause for mild curiosity, rather than dread.

It would fall to her to answer it, of course. It always did. She pushed her chair away from the kitchen table, wincing at the screech it made on the tile floor. As she walked to the door, she brushed against the edge of a newspaper, lying on the kitchen surface. It slid to the floor, taking a glass with it. Her mother screamed as it shattered.

Jane walked past it. The bell rang again, but quieter. If I don't answer, she thought, perhaps they'll go away. She thought of a door left forever locked. She thought of earth closing over a mound, and the dead sleeping within in, undisturbed forever.

Still she walked on. She fumbled with the lock, but only a little. She did not recognise the man on the doorstep at first, not until he spoke. "Hello, Jane."

It was two years since she had turned down his offer of a place in his garden, but she had never forgotten him. She had never gone back to the part of town where his garden was. Glimpses of flowers sometimes made her want to cry, and there were times when she thought she had been offered a piece of paradise, but had turned it down. At other, darker times, when the news on television was too heartbreaking, she thought she had almost been tempted into hell, but had resisted. In her dreams, he was both serpent and angel.

"Who is it, Jane?" her mother was calling nervously.

Jane turned away from the door. "Someone. Someone I… met… once. A man."

"More than that, I hope," the man said, with a grim smile. "I will not ask to come in. I have things to say that your mother should not hear, with her health being what it is."

"Bad things?" It was cold outside, heading towards the middle of winter. A tendril of ice reached in from the dark and coiled around her heart.

"Bad, yes," he said, when she was outside with him on the step, and the door had closed, barring her from light. "But not, perhaps, the worst, if you… co-operate."

She reached for the support of the wall, hand closing on rough brick. "Is that a threat?"

Over the road, a curtain twitched. The darkness hid all else. She wondered if there were soldiers there. She wondered how many neighbours would watch her being marched away, and if anyone would try to save her. She thought they would not. In times of danger, even neighbours became strangers. You kept your head down, and pretended that you did not hear the screams in the darkness, and did not see the armed men passing in the night.

"I will not lie to you, Jane," the man said. "Your brothers have been captured. It seems that they were in the Resistance."

A slow release of breath was the only sign she gave of the scream that tore her apart inside. She did not even blink. "My brothers aren't…"

"You didn't know this?" The man was looking at her with something that could have been compassion, but she was sure it hid only traps. "No, these hardened criminals keep it even from their family, I've heard. You are innocent in all this, and so is your mother. I will tell them so…"

His tone suggested that he had not finished. Jane waited for the rest, but it did not come. If, her mind gibbered at her. There's an if. It is a threat. He wants me to…

"How…" She swallowed. "How do I know you're not lying?"

"You want me to prove it by bringing their fingers, or their ears, perhaps?" He smiled. "Or do you want to see pictures of their tortured bodies?" He gave an exaggerated sigh. "I do not have such things, Jane. I thought it would be a comfort to you to have only my word, and not something more grisly. But I give you my word. This is true."

I can't take the risk. She dug her nails into her palms to stop herself sobbing. Simon was a member. I knew that. I've been expecting this for years. And Barney… I didn't know, but he's… No, he could be. And everyone gets captured in the end. It always ends in death.

She raised her head, covering her face with a mask as hard and emotionless as stone. She would not give him the pleasure of knowing that he had broken her. In that moment, she thought, she was more courageous than anyone in the Resistance would ever be. They launched their futile little struggles because they could not bear to endure. If Jane knew anything, it was how to endure. She had been doing nothing else for more than half her life.

"What do you want from me?" she asked him, her voice utterly level.

Her calm seemed to leave him flustered. "I risked a lot coming to you, Jane," he said. "You're not supposed to know anything about this until the police come. I'm not supposed to be helping…"

"Are you helping?" She folded her hands in front of her.

"I haven't been able to forget you," he said. "So beautiful. So crushed. I collect beautiful things. You're like a work of art languishing in a junk yard. You need to be taken to a place where you can shine. I have power, Jane. I can pull strings. By rights, you and your mother should be interned for this, but I intend to save you."

"If…?" she asked. She clasped her hands tight, and tried to banish all thoughts of Simon and Barney from her mind. She could not think of them in pain. She could not.

She thought he was about to lose his temper, but instead he passed his hand across his brow. When he lowered it again, he looked almost defeated. "I came with threats, Jane, but now that I see you, I won't… I can't… I can't let them take you. You can spit in my face, but I won't let them take you."

She wanted to sag with relief. I should take it and run, she thought. I warned Simon. He knew what the risks were. Barney, too. Anyone who joins the Resistance is prepared to die. They took their chances, while I…

It was no good. She could not think it. She could not do it. She had spent her lifetime keeping her head down, but she was no coward.

"No," she said, taking his gaze and holding it. "That isn't enough. I want you to save my brothers, too."

He clenched his fist. "You ungrateful little…"

"Please." She touched his arm, pressed her body to his side. "Please. If they die, then I'd rather be taken. You won't have saved me at all."

He tore himself away, and paced a few steps along the path, and back. "If they're guilty, I can't… I've got power, Jane, but not that much. I'm not one of the inner circle" He breathed in, and out again. "I could maybe get them sentenced to the camps, rather than anything worse."

"Do that." She felt as if the whole world was trembling, centred on this moment, on this choice. She was teetering on the edge of a cliff. After this, nothing would be the same again. "Please. I'll do anything. I'll give you anything."

He looked at her, and slowly smiled, his eyes glittering like frost in winter. And there, in the silent darkness, he told her what the price would be.

And she accepted it.

End of part two: chapter fourteen