31. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

So things weren't going as well as I'd hoped because death was apparently still on the cards. It would take more than a few friendly words to warm the house to me but I could do it: I was a pro. One of my main ways of making friends was to start out by finding something I liked about the person and complimenting them on it. It made them feel good, which in turn made me feel good: a positive cycle. The problem was that as I looked around the decrepit space there was absolutely nothing nice that I could think of to say. Not a sausage.

Before I could come up with a piss-poor compliment, the floorboards under me disappeared and I plummeted a good eight feet. Luckily, as always, Esme's reflexes were in fine working order. She took over as we fell, shoving me to the side and ensuring we landed perfectly on our feet with knees safely bent to absorb the impact. As we straightened, she shoved control back to me .

Are you sure you don't want to take over? I said, only half-joking.

You're doing good. She shrugged.

She said she was going to kill us!

Yeah, but she hasn't tried to do so yet. So we are winning.

We need to look at your definition of success, I groused.

I looked around the area as an oil lamp flared and blinked at what the light revealed. In the corner of the room on a bed of straw was a baby unicorn. It blinked sleepy red eyes at me but didn't try to stand up. ‘Hey, little one,' I said. ‘Are you okay?'

The unicorn – presumably Ivy – laid her head back down. I released my touch with the house and pulled my piping magic towards her. Are you okay? I asked again, this time with concern lacing my thoughts.

A jumble of thoughts roared back at me. Darkness. Loss. A longing for the lilac sky and the turquoise grass. The desire to run and hunt. Grief at being alone.

Her grief tore at my heart and the last image just about slayed me: it was of her mother, eyes wide and unseeing, her throat ripped out. I knew the line of those claws: they were wolves'. Why on earth would a werewolf kill a unicorn ?

I gave a noise of distress and dropped to the floor next to her. Oh honey, I'm so sorry. As I would have with Ares, I reached out a hand for her to snuffle and, when she looked at me without fear, stroked her gleaming coat. It was silken smooth, so much softer than Ares' coat which had been worn by age and marred by a multitude of scars that puckered his skin.

‘I'm sorry, lovely,' I said to Ivy aloud. ‘I'm so very sorry. I'll find out who killed your mama.'

And we'll kill them right back, Esme promised fiercely.

I grimaced. We'll find out if the unicorn attacked them first, I pointed out. We can't just kill anyone out of empathetic grief.

It is wrong to take a pup from its mother.

It is, and we will find who did it and punish them accordingly.

With a spanking? she asked dubiously, because you and Greg —

Do not finish that sentence! I flushed bright red.

What? I'm just saying that I am not sure it is an effective punishment. You never seem to mind it all that much.

Now I wished that the floor I was sitting on would open up and swallow me whole.

The house interrupted us, her voice subdued. Is she okay? I gave her the deer and she ate it, but she hasn't even stood up.

It felt like the house was gripping my mind too tightly. I hummed a ditty and used my piping magic to connect us, break her iron grasp and replace it with my own, which was smoother – and thankfully, gentler. She misses her mum, I explained.

Well, I didn't kill her, the house sulked. That was all you.

Not me! I protested.

Werewolves, she clarified. They bring me corpses every few weeks, but never ones that I need .

I thought of her all-consuming hunger. You don't eat them?

Eww, no.

I frowned. I don't understand. You're clearly hungry.

I don't eat just anything! She sounded shocked. I'm not a bin! I am the gateway to the Great Pack. She lost her haughty tone. Or I used to be. When I was revered, the dead werewolves were laid at my door and I, in turn, laid them to rest and made sure the wolf made it back to the Great Pack. But since the Great Pack has abandoned me, no wolves have been laid at my door. It is the act of passing the soul to the Great Pack that feeds and preserves me, not something so crass as flesh, she said disdainfully.

The Great Pack didn't abandon you, I repeated.

So you say, Lucy Barrett, but I have been alone all the same.

What have you been doing with the corpses that were brought to you? I asked out of morbid curiosity.

Bringing them in and burying them. The ground underneath my foundations is littered with their bones.

Nice. Still, if I was to walk out of this house alive, I needed to show her I could be of use to her and this was the perfect opportunity. I broke the curse, I announced. The Great Pack has been restored to the wolves but I don't understand why it hasn't been restored to you.

The orb, she huffed. It was stolen.

The orb?

It may have escaped your notice but I am not a werewolf, she said drily.

I bit back the sarcastic ‘no, really?' that wanted to escape. I deserved a bloody medal. I noticed, I said instead.

It was the holy orb that powered the connection between me and the Great Pack. When the orb was stolen, I managed to close the connection and send the orb to sleep. It's the orb that allows the wolves to access their air powers. Without it, they cannot use the air and I cannot reopen my connection to the Great Pack. Still, whoever took it has nothing but a pretty bauble. Her voice was coloured with vindictive glee. The powerful orb was useless to its thief. That was something at least.

My heart was pounding. This was the answer to everything. The orb had to be the artefact that Esme had spoken of. If I could find that, and awaken it, I could make it so that I could talk to the Great Pack freely, not to mention, restore the lost air powers to the wolves.

I licked my lips. I'd seen Ben and Roan's vision; I'd seen us using air powers. I knew we could fix this. Could we restore the orb? I asked her. It would surely be easier to awaken such a thing rather than to create a whole new one.

Of course I can, she said smugly, condescension dripping from her voice. If we can find it again.

We will find it for you, Esme said firmly.

Will you quit rashly promising shit? I huffed.

She is starving. She needs it.

Actually, the house interrupted, I don't need the orb to send the souls to the Great Pack. I just need it to communicate with it.

I thought you said the orb powered the connection? I said, confused.

It does, but it is like the postal service. If you write to someone often enough, you remember their address. I am confident – though not certain – that I could still release the souls so that they may rejoin with the Great Pack.

In that case, do you really need the orb? I asked.

I cannot communicate with the wolves without it – though I do appear to be conversing with you. It makes me wonder if I have finally lost my grip on my sanity. Maybe Terrance is right.

I had seen no hide nor hair of a Terrance, so maybe he was right. Could imaginary friends be right? I'm a piper, I admitted. That's how you can talk to me.

Ah, she said. Then I am not mad?

I don't think so, I said delicately.

You seem a bit mad to me, Esme said flatly. But most things do. Humans are the most bizarre creatures.

I was not human! the house said, outraged.

You were a dryad, I offered softly.

I was a long time ago, she admitted . Now I'm not sure who or what I am.

Just my luck: my sentient house was having an identity crisis. You're the seat of power, I pointed out.

Not any longer . Not without the orb. Now I'm just wood and blood. She sounded depressed. As if to emphasise her upset, the floorboards rose up and rearranged themselves, laying back down perpendicular to their original position .

The floorboards I was standing on and Ivy was resting on remained in situ. The house might be flustered, but she wasn't uprooting her guests. It made me wonder about all the power-hungry wolves that had come before. Had she really killed them, as Kearns had suggested?

The other werewolves, I asked, the ones that came before me wanting to be crowned. What happened to them? Did you kill them?

The boards fluttered again, then the house sighed. No. I wiped their memories and sent them to join the circus.

I blinked. You can do that?

Vampyrs can enchant. Because of my dryad heritage, I pack more of a punch than the average vampyr. I can make you forget your own name.

I went cold with fear. Please don't, I pleaded hastily. Someone wiped my childhood memories before and I have no memories of my birth parents. Please don't take the ones of my adoptive family from me too.

That is not right, the house muttered. We should all remember our family. Even I remember my family. Abruptly her magic gripped my head in a vice-like grip and I cried out at the force of it.

Remember, she ordered .

Pain shuddered through me as very old magic was broken and I screamed as memories rushed at me, pounding into my skull.

Sitting on the kitchen side watching my mother roll out pastry.

Kneeling by the pond while my father put netting over it to protect the fish from the herons.

Sitting on the swing watching my parents kiss.

Lying on the ground, laughing helplessly as Nonna blew raspberries on my tummy.

Sitting on my Nonno's lap as he read a story to me.

Skipping as I tossed flames from one hand to another.

Sitting in the car next to Shadow Grandfather, my Grandy Sandy, as he spirited me away. He cried as he drove, and I knew something very bad had happened.

Agony tore through me and Esme howled with the pain of it. Together we welcomed the darkness that came for us.