((This chapter heading refers to one name of the irresistible force paradox: What happens when an unstoppable force hits an immovable object?))

14. Shield and Spear

'Lucille.' Thomas took her in, a shade of black, neat and pristine. He knew how she had died, and from what Edith had told him, the ghosts she had seen had been marked by the way their life had ended. Not her. She was perfect. 'Oh, Lucille.' He felt his eyes watering. 'I am so sorry.'

She reached for him, and despite the fact that he couldn't feel her touch, he covered her hand with his. 'You are forgiven, my love.' Her voice echoed only in his head, her words for him alone. 'For all you have done, even this last.'

'I had to hurt you. Had to bring you to me. I knew no other way.' His heart was beating up in his throat, her presence, however ephemeral, threatening to engulf him, stifle the spark inside him and pull him back into the darkness.

'I know. It will all be well soon. I need you, Thomas. My brother. My love.'

'My love,' he echoed. But with the words came not the image of Lucille. Edith's face swam before his mind's eye, full of laughter as they'd danced in their cottage, full of sorrow as she had found him shattered in the mines. Thomas swallowed. His nerves calmed. 'My poor Lucille. Did you not listen? Deirdre …'

'The madwoman has no idea. I gave you comfort when you cried at night. I held you.'

'You did.' The tears broke from his eyes. 'You gave me warmth and love, Lucille. There is a good chance Father would have beaten the life out of me one day if not for you. Now you demand it back?'

Lucille's face was a mask of grief. Again, she reached out, her fingers touching the scar on his cheek, much like Edith did sometimes. 'I hurt you … I thought you must be dead. I would have held on if I had known you still lived.'

'You didn't know what you were doing. I am not angry at you. About anything. It isn't your fault, it never truly was.'

'Then you will come to me?'

'I want to live, Lucille. I want to be with my wife. What you just watched, this was absolutely real. I do love Edith. So very much. And I don't feel guilty about it, either.'

'But I belong with you, my little brother. I will never leave you. And you know that you belong with me as well. Never apart.'

Thomas nodded slowly. 'And if I come with you? If I take my own life for you?'

'We shall depart together. Joined in eternity.'

Deep down, Thomas had known there was only one way to release Lucille. Still calm, he walked to the drawer where he knew she kept scissors and knives. This time, when he brought one of them to his wrist, there was no foreign power guiding him. He couldn't look at Lucille when the blade bit into his flesh after only a moment of hesitation. Letting himself sink to the floor with his back against a closet, Thomas closed his eyes.

Ϡ

'How long can this take?' Edith asked. Deirdre didn't answer. She sat in the red snow, her forehead against her knees, her back against the gate. 'Deirdre?' For one irrational moment, Edith thought the old woman had died after all, but then she saw that she was breathing. With every passing second, Edith felt more like running back in, screaming for Thomas to come out and leave this well enough alone.

Suddenly, Deirdre stirred and looked up at her. She placed a wrinkled hand on Edith's calf. 'Go, girl. Go to your dear man.'

And Edith ran. She raced to the door, burst inside, and stormed up the stairs, her footsteps too loud in the silent house. Her steps carried her past the bathroom towards Lucille's room, the corridor suddenly horribly long.

'Edith!' Thomas's voice was soft, but it was enough to stop her so abruptly she almost fell. She didn't dare to turn, afraid what she would see. If he was dead, if this was his ghost calling her … A hand landed on her shoulder and turned her around, ever so gently. 'Edith,' he said again.

He looked pale and she knew that he had wept, but he was alive, he was real, and he was smiling at her. 'What happened?' she asked, almost choking on the words. She saw that he had a clumsy bandage on his wrist. 'Oh God, Thomas, you need help!'

'Hush. It's not what you think. I had to pretend, but it's not that, just my skin. I'm all right.'

'And Lucille …'

'She believed I would go with her once I cut myself. She's gone. For good.' He embraced her, and Edith leaned her head against his chest, hearing the steady beat of his heart. 'We're free, Edith. We're truly free.'

'I'm sorry you had to trick her.'

'She wouldn't go.' Thomas's voice was low, his pain audible. 'She couldn't see, couldn't understand that I'm all yours.'

'You two,' Deirdre's voice called below them. 'Come down, if you're quite done.'

Thomas took her hand as they walked back downstairs. 'Thank you, Deirdre.'

'You have never asked me what I wanted in return, you know.'

Edith and Thomas exchanged a glance. 'We'll pay you.'

'I don't need you money. But I will take your first child.' Edith stared at her, and Deirdre burst into laughter. 'Works every time. Fools. I want nothing from you except that you take care of each other. I still have some of the tea with me.' She brandished the small linen bag at Thomas. 'Would you like me to leave it here for you, boy?'

'No,' said Thomas.

'Yes, please,' said Edith.

Deirdre pocketed her bag. 'Not you.' She glared at her. 'Do you smoke, girl?'

'No,' Edith said, bewildered.

'Do you drink?'

'What? No! I mean, wine, rarely, but …'

'Don't.'

'Excuse me, but with all due respect …'

'Do what I tell you and don't let anyone convince you otherwise. And start using your head again, now this mess is over with.' She poked a finger into Thomas's chest. 'And you. You'd better fix this place quickly. Can almost spook an old woman, this. You need to have a safe home for your family.' She walked off without another word.

'What,' Edith said quietly, 'was that about?'

Thomas was staring after Deirdre. Then he looked at her, his gaze burning into hers. 'Edith, darling, I apologise in advance for being unduly forward, but when was the last time you bled?'

'I …' She felt the colour drain from her face and grabbed a fistful of Thomas's sleeve. 'Thomas, that was before we went to Father Christopher. Must be … I'd have to … wait, I'm four days … what if … Thomas, say something!'

He took her hand again, intertwined their fingers, and walked outside. The sun was setting over the forest, casting everything in a hazy orange glow. 'I will say something,' he said, his voice husky. 'This is very possibly the most beautiful day of my life.'