Okay, here's chapter six! I've got a feeling this is going to be a lot shorter than the original, but that's kind of to be expected. Still, we'll see...
I would have had this out a lot sooner, but I've had a rather hectic few weeks. Not only have I had a rook of 18th parties (including my own) to go to, both me and my nan have been quite ill (we're still coughing), I've had my first physio appointment since my op and the other night my cousin was beaten up when he jumped in to defend his friend. He's okay, but he's still hopping mad (so was I, when I found out. I was all for helping him get the lads back, but thinking on it, that's not a good idea) and he's got a rugby match against most of the lads that beat him up at the start of January, so that is going to be a very interesting match indeed...So yeah, a slightly delayed chapter due to real life screwing up (again), but it's a fairly long one (like the last one) so I hope that makes up for it. I'll end this ridiculously long Author's note, and let you get on with the chapter. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: All characters and settings belong to Christine Morton-Shaw.
Later
When I woke up (at something past two in the afternoon), I shovelled some breakfast down my throat and was about to escape back to my room when Mum came back from shopping. She made short work of herding me back into the kitchen and sitting me down for an interrogation. Why do I have the sinking feeling that these are going to become depressingly regular?
For a moment, she just sat and looked at me, eyes taking in all of my cuts and the plasters covering them.
Then, she spoke. Just three simple words.
"What happened, love?"
Again, I was torn. Tell her the truth; terrify her and be banned from leaving the house in case I get hurt? Or fudge the truth slightly to keep her calm, and maintain my freedom?
Slowly, I tell her. I tell her how I dug out the Ouroborus Stone, and how Cimul's body was fashioned out of it. I tell her of how I went to the Well of L'Ume, and climbed down it. Of how the rope broke half way down and I scraped my face and shins and bruised my hand when I hit the ground. Of wandering around, down the tunnels, finding the line in the wall. Falling into the pool, hitting my back, and pulling myself out. Getting spooked when my phone died – I mustn't have charged it before I went out – and running down the tunnels, grazing my arm on the tunnel wall, then climbing out at the second well. How that rope snapped just as I got out. I must have fallen asleep, I tell her, because the sun was so low when I got up.
I wait, trying to keep the signs of a lie out of my face. I watch her and she watches me, steadily.
Then she sighs and shakes her head.
"Please, Jess, try to be more careful. You can't afford to be making mistakes like climbing down a god-knows-how-old rope that could snap at any moment! Especially with...all this going on." Neither of us can really name what 'this' is, but we both know what she's talking about.
I let out my breath quietly and smile, though it's a bit forced. I don't really feel like smiling just now.
I excuse myself; I'm feeling tired again, and my muscles are starting to ache with a vengeance. As I'm about to walk upstairs, I hear Mum shout me back.
"Oh, Jess! I forgot to tell you; you were so tired last night. Avril called; she was on the coach on the mainland. She should almost be here by now; your Dad's gone to pick her up."
I freeze. Oh, crap.
Avril, here, with all...this kicking off again.
"How long will they be?" I ask, half turning on the stairs. When I look at Mum, I realise that she's not as blasé as she sounded. She knows that this has just made my life a lot harder; and maybe Avril's life too.
"Your Dad left about half an hour ago. The ferry should have arrived at half past." I looked at my watch. It was quarter to three.
I stood on the stairs, undecided. Wait for Avril to get here, then disappear and have her be in a huff with me for the rest of the day? Or go now and see if I can get any further with my search.
Mum decided the matter for me.
"You go and get ready. Take today off, Jess. You need it. You can go to the cottage tomorrow." I glanced down at myself. I was still in yesterday's clothes, and had that old cottony feel in my mouth that reminded me that my teeth desperately needed brushing.
I nodded, and turned back up the stairs. As I did, I spotted Mrs. Shilling in the door of the living room, listening in. Something told me she'd heard everything. She looked more worried than Mum did. Maybe because she'd spent most of her life investigating this place, and her grandmother's disappearance, whereas Mum was only half aware of everything during one summer. Either way, I made a note to talk to my great aunt about this. She was a smart old bat, and probably knew more about this island than most of the locals whose families had been here for generations.
On Mum's orders, I went upstairs and got washed and changed my clothes. I was just coming downstairs – feeling a lot cleaner and aching a lot less after a hot shower than I had, when Dad and Avril clattered in through the door, Dad lugging her suitcase. Avril always over-packed for her visits; you'd think she was moving in rather than staying for a couple of weeks.
Once we'd done our usual tight hug, Avril pulled back and immediately took note of the big, taped-on dressing on my cheek, covering the four nail marks.
"What happened to you? You look like you've been dragged through a hedge backwards!" She said, not sparing my feelings, as usual. I managed a half-serious scowl.
"I don't look that bad!" I protested. After all, I was clean, my hair was washed (and dripping all over Avril's shoes), and my clothes were fresh. Most of yesterday's had gone straight in the bin; no longer fit to wear. I just looked as though I'd been beaten up.
"But what happened?" She pressed. Damn. I never could distract her once she set her mind on something. I was painfully aware of Dad, Mum and Mrs. Shilling all listening in. So, I rolled my eyes and said in my best sarcastic tone:
"I fell down a well. Happy?"
"No," She said bluntly, but she finally let it pass – for now. No doubt she would try to claw the 'truth' out of me later.
To distract her from further questions, I grabbed her case off of Dad and – God, it was heavy! – started to lug it up the stairs. She soon caught up and grabbed the back end of it and together we managed – just – to manoeuvre it up the twist in the stairs into my room.
"What have you got in here, an elephant?" I gasped as we dropped it with a resounding thunk on the floor.
"No!" She sounded faintly defensive, the way she always did when I needled her over the amount she packed. "Oh, and I've got a pressie for you."
"Oh, God." The first time, she'd bought me a charm bracelet with a little bucket charm on it. No joke. God knows where she got it, but she did. The next year, it was another charm – a stereotypical ghost. It had become a bit a of a running joke between us, one that baffled Mum and Dad. I wondered what it would be this time. A diary? A worm to go in the bucket?
She straightened from rummaging through her floored shoulder bag, and handed me something small and silver with a cheery, slightly sarcastic 'Here you go!'
I grin and glance down at the third charm. My smile freezes on my face.
It's a little snake. A snake biting its own tail.
"It's one of those funny little Oburus or Orobrus whatever things, look."
"An Ouroborus," I managed quietly. She snapped her fingers and nodded.
"That's the one. It's weird though. I didn't buy this one. I found it."
I shot her a sharp glance. Avril still didn't know what to believe about all the Beings business; she was still half convinced that I'd made it all up or something. She didn't take it seriously, anyway.
"Found it? Where?"
She shrugged, as if it were no big deal. I wanted to shake the answer out of her.
"In college. Me and Hayley were smoking behind the library fire escape and I just saw this little glint on the windowsill. I just thought it was a chewy wrapper or something, but when I walked near it on my way to dance I saw that it was this thing. I thought you'd like it, and look – there's just enough of a gap between the mouth and the tail for it to fit onto your bracelet." There was. How convenient.
I tried not to show how my heart was suddenly hammering. My muscles were aching again with the sudden chill I felt.
I forced a smile and put the charm gingerly in my bedside table drawer.
"I'll leave it there for now so it doesn't get lost – I'll put it onto the bracelet later." Or down the drain. "Right, do you want a drink? And you'd better go and say hi to Mrs Shilling otherwise she'll be glaring at you all fortnight."
The rest of the day was...good. Avril and Mrs Shilling resumed their love/hate banter, Mum and Dad bustled round, catering to our guest in between their usual dashes to photograph or paint. Domino fully monopolised Avril's attention, and she didn't complain. I kept a fake smile on my face; got drinks, laughed, set up the CD player in my room so that me and Avril could dance. She showed me the routine she'd done for her GCSE exam. I did one of my own that I'd been working on, before my life was screwed up again. I could almost pretend it was just a normal summer day.
The cottage. It only left my mind when I worried about the Ouroborus charm, and vice versa. I was running on auto pilot, and by the evening Avril had noticed.
"Hey, you've been looking pretty out of it all day. Don't tell me you've managed to find something to smoke here of all places?" We were in my room; everyone else was either downstairs or in bed. Avril was going through the songs on my laptop, skipping from one to the next before any had a chance to finish.
I snapped out of my unfocussed staring at middle space, looked up at her and summoned up a sheepish smile.
"Sorry. I've had a lot to deal with lately," It was a typical excuse, and did nothing to sum up what I'd gone through in the past few days. It did nothing to clear my mind which was constantly beating out a pulse of worry.
Avril raised an eyebrow at me, sceptical. Oh, yeah. This was 'boring old Lume'. There wasn't enough happening to stress me out, or so most people thought. I realised I was going to have to elaborate slightly.
"I've not been sleeping or eating well – I just feel a bit run down," I shrugged, hoping that I looked pasty enough to make this excuse feasible. From the glance of my own face in the mirror this morning, I was pale enough to pass as dead, never mind ill.
Unfortunately, Avril snorted. Busted.
"Run down? More like fallen down," Uh...what? At my look of utter confusion, she gestured at my partially covered face. Oh. The scratches.
"So, what happened? Fall in some bushes necking a guy or something?"
I burst out laughing. Avril looked surprised; I know I was. It was just so...ordinary.
When I'd calmed, I shook my head, optimistically ignoring Avril's 'weirdo' looks in my direction.
"Nah. There's no one my age here, remember? I cut myself on some rock," I felt that sticking fairly close to the truth would be best. She couldn't accuse me of lying then, could she? "I was exploring some of the caves and fell down a bit of loose rock – caught my face on a bit of stone sticking out of the wall," As blasé as I tried to sound, the note of renewed worry, verging on panic, was blaring in my ears. I think it was just me though – Avril didn't seem to notice anything, and she finally accepted my story.
"You idiot!" She laughed, smacking my arm. I made myself laugh with her. Now that my explanations for my mood and cuts were out of the way, I knew she wouldn't nag at me for the rest of the night.
But even once we'd turned the light off and Avril was in dreamland, I lay awake, trying not to toss and turn too much and wake her up. The concern about the cottage was only growing stronger.
I should go now, I realised. I wouldn't be able to do so much with Avril here, but she was asleep – would be til noon tomorrow, if I remembered right. I could go to the cottage now; I had hours to work with.
Decided, I got up and dressed quietly, grateful that Avril was a deep sleeper unless someone kicked her.
On my way around the bed, I grabbed the charm from the drawer. I could throw it in the woods on the way to the cottage.
I didn't take Domino with me this time – I had a feeling that he wouldn't come into the cottage even if I did. I wished I didn't have to.
I took all the pieces of paper with me – my diary pages too, since that had all the translations in it to hand. My Dad's Stanley knife and a strong torch with new batteries (and a whole packet of spares) found their way into the backpack I wore, and I didn't know what else I needed to take.
I took a breath. Steadied myself. Set off.
It was strange, walking the island at night. Oddly peaceful. It settled my nerves slightly, until I started the walk up to the cottage. Then my heart started beating harder – as if to remind me it was there and not do anything stupid to damage it. Like waltzing into enemy territory with only a pocket knife for protection.
I almost had to shoulder the door open – it was as stiff as ever.
Wait. I hadn't closed the door after me, had I? I'd just ran out.
Well, that had happened before, and no one else had been in the cottage other than Epsilon, and Sebastian a hundred or so years ago. The door being closed didn't mean there were any Dark Beings ready to grab me in the shadows of the cottage...
I stood in the door way; half using the door as a shield. If anything flew at me, they'd have a job getting through that plank of wood. It was an inch and a half thick, at least, and as stubborn as me.
Nothing did jump out at me, though. I shone the torch round and felt a painful aching in my chest and throat. I hated seeing this place so destroyed. Ravaged. I wanted to erase all the scars in the wood and stone, but there was nothing I could do. Maybe Epsilon could fix it...if I ever found him.
Slowly, I crept out from behind the door, wishing I could carry it with me. I could feel the tiles beneath my feet tilting oddly. A glance down showed me that they were cracked and broken.
It looked the same as when I'd left it last; the bookcase toppled and fractured, draped over the skeleton of the rocking chair. All the little knick-knacks of Epsilon's scattered about or shattered on the floor.
I could still smell SPICES FROM THE ORIENT.
The stairs were blocked by a splintered beam from the ceiling. Luckily, it had broken up when it hit the ground, otherwise I would never have been able to shift it. As it was, I had to leave my torch on a small table, aimed roughly at the stairs, and drag the ends away from the stairs, nearly breaking my back moving them.
When I reached the top of the stairs, I expected all hell to break loose. My imagination had been running in overdrive since I set out; filled with monsters and swans and a feeling of claustrophobia stronger than I'd ever felt before. Maybe the cottage had become even more unstable and would collapse around me? Would Cimul be there? Or maybe that ghostly swan from the lake; the Dark Being that Epsilon had fought with.
But, when I reached the bedroom, nothing happened. I shone the torch about warily, but it only lit up the shredded charts, the ruined hammock, the shards of splintered glass left in the window frames, the ugly tattoos carved into the walls. The desk.
I flinched my way across the room, waiting for an attack that never came. By the time I reached the desk, I'd finally accepted that there was nothing left in the cottage to hurt me, except the memories.
The box file was where I'd left it; in the drawer with Epsilon's small silver boxes. None of them had been touched, except for the year's worth of dust covering them.
Epsilon said that he was bound to the box file. I dragged it out and looked it over, kneeling on the floor since the hammock was in shreds. I don't know what I was expecting to see – Epsilon stuffed in a corner of it? I still didn't know what he meant.
I tugged out my diary pages, the rest of the paper tumbling out with them in my haste. I shuffled through them to find the most recent entry, then folded the others up and stuffed them back into my bag. I didn't want to lose them, after all.
Oh, okay. Not bound to the box file; bound to the information inside it. Like that made any difference.
Still, I rifled through the pages, looking for something out of the ordinary. It was only when I reached the map that I saw anything to give me a reason to pause. It was tiny, really – in that little square between the ends of the arrows on the compass rose. I shone the torch directly on the spot, til the old paper gleamed.
It was the little Epsilon sign. The half-feather. Only, it was different. It had something entwined around it. I peered closer; the page only a few inches from my nose.
There, in miniscule, exquisite detail, were little chain links, winding their way around the symbol. I knew for a fact that neither me nor Sebastian had drawn that. Epsilon wouldn't have, either, unless he was leaving it as a clue for me.
But what was I meant to do with a bit of ink on old paper?
It occurred to me then, in the back of my mind so that I didn't really take any notice of it, that all of these clues were...I don't know, easier? Than the ones before. Easier, and more literal. Different.
But the thought slipped away in the face of this newest frustration.
I don't know why I did it. Maybe just in a desperate attempt to get more information, or to feel like I was doing something, I don't know.
I touched the symbol on the map.
I had very little warning. A sudden, undeniable dizziness that told me, without a doubt, that I was about to pass out.
Already less than half senseless, I dropped the map into the box file and grabbed the rim, my free hand latching onto my backpack as I dropped towards the floor. I only dimly remember noticing that I'd dropped the torch. That sparked the smallest sheen of fear. I'd lost my light. It felt like the only light in the world.
Then I fell to the floor and kept on falling and was gone.
When I woke up, it took me a while to realise I had. There was no light on the back of my eyelids to announce my regained consciousness, nor was there any light when I opened my eyes. It was darker than any of the caves I'd been in on Lume. It was more than simply dark; there was an utter absence of light that instantly made my heart pound. It was the sound of my own heart that finally convinced me I was conscious.
I could still feel my rucksack, and the rough edge of the box file, clenched in my hands as I sat up. Wherever I was – definitely not the cottage – I'd brought them with me.
I didn't seem to be sitting on anything. I guess it was solid, but when I slung my backpack onto my back (no way was I letting go of that in the dark!) to free up one of my hands and touched the floor, I couldn't identify what kind of surface it was. Smooth? Rough? Cold? Hot? Manmade? Natural? I couldn't tell. I don't even know if I touched the floor, or if my hand just...went through it.
Oh, god. Where am I?
I felt like I was in a large space. I didn't feel closed in or claustrophobic, anyway. There was just a sense of being in the open.
I didn't like that feeling of exposure. I wanted to be close to something solid; if only to know that I couldn't be attacked from that direction.
Unbidden, an image of Cimul slowly edging his way out of the stone wall popped into my head. Okay, so walls were just as dangerous as open air.
If only I could see, I wouldn't be so scared!
I drew in a shaky breath. It seemed very loud. I realised that, other than my breathing and my heart racing, I couldn't hear anything. It was as if there was nothing living here to make a noise.
But there had to be. I'd come here looking for Epsilon, so he must be here, right? I should look for him, or a way out of this place.
I couldn't move. Not because something had grabbed me; not because I was chained in place. My body refused to move because I was scared stiff of moving out into that nothingness. There was a train of barely rational thought that this was the place I'd arrived in when I came here from the cottage, so this was the place I had to leave from and I didn't want to lose this exact spot.
But I had to find Epsilon.
In this apparently empty place, any sound was loud. So wouldn't he be able to hear me, if I shouted?
I shied away from the idea of making any sort of loud noise here, but bit my tongue to stop all of my resolve running away. It was either that or I get up and walk around to find him, which I definitely wasn't going to do.
So I hugged my backpack and the box file close to me for comfort and opened my mouth. A dry little rasp came out instead of a shout.
I shook my head in disgust, swallowed hard. I've always had a big mouth – even Epsilon noticed that – so now it was time to make good use of it.
I took a few deep breaths to steady myself, then another, and yelled.
"EPSILON!"
There were no echoes. This place must be huge, for my shout to not even reach the walls. I waited, frozen in place, listening for any sound of him or – please, no – a Dark Being approaching. There was none.
Okay, try again.
"EPSILON!"
What if this place was so big that he couldn't hear me? No, he had to. He had to hear me!
"EPSILON!"
Was that a sound? I froze, holding my breath so that there were no distractions; no false hopes.
"Jess?"
It was faint, but definite. And definitely Epsilon!
"Epsilon! Over here!" I hoped he could find me in this darkness. I know I'd struggle, just using someone's voice.
"How did you get here?" His voice was closer now – coming from my right. I spun, and saw the faintest silver light, getting larger as it came towards me.
Then what he'd said registered fully. I frowned, confused.
"I...followed your clues. I got to the box file, and saw your symbol and the chains on the map. I touched it, then passed out, I guess. I woke up here."
We were both quiet. Epsilon must have seen me, because he continued heading directly for me, even though I wasn't making a sound. I could see him now; still in his warriors clothes. That didn't draw my attention, however. His face did. He was frowning.
He reached me, knelt down next to me and immediately went to the box file. The map had fallen to the side of the others; he lifted it out, examined it.
"Epsilon? What's the matter?" Finding him had banished my fear, made me feel hopeful. Now I could feel terror slowly snaking back in; coiling around my stomach and contracting my heart, out of rhythm. "Epsilon, you're scaring me. What's wrong?"
He finally lifted his strange eyes from the map. A shock ran down my spine. His eyes looked sorrowful; defeated.
"Oh, Jess. What have you done?"