Glimmer in the Maelstrom: Shadow Through Time 3 (7 page)

‘Y
ou wouldn’t listen to me last time I told you there was something strange about my brother,’ Khatrene whispered, brushing aside a thin vine that had blown into her face.

‘The King was drugged then,’ Talis whispered back, hating to argue with his beloved but determined to set her thoughts along the path his followed. ‘What you see in his eyes now is not the same.’

‘I just said that.’ Her voice was over-loud and she put up a hand to show that she’d realised. ‘It’s nothing sexual,’ she said more quietly. ‘But it feels dangerous.’

They both glanced back to where they’d left Breehan and Mihale in a misty forest clearing a half-day climb from the royal Volcastle. The old Plainsman rested on the fungus-covered ground, his gaze locked on the talisman that hung from Mihale’s neck. Their king stood in dappled sunlight with his back against a tree. Neither man showed they had heard Khatrene’s remark.

The rest break was to refresh them before they reached the steep mountain trail and were hopefully aided past the Northmen and into the Volcastle. But the smoke code Talis had planned to send aloft when they reached open ground would not be as easily read by the Volcastle sentries now that the wind had strengthened.

Only that morning they had come across the remnants of a Raider snagged in the twisted branchings of a spirewood, dropped there by a capricious wind. His shredded body had been all but severed from the misshapen albino head. Probably caught in the open. As they now were. Though Talis was near to exhaustion, he knew he would have to move them on soon.

‘He’s acting as if he mistrusts us,’ Khatrene said quietly.

‘Or is displeased.’

‘About what?’

Talis took a slow breath, preparing himself for his beloved’s reaction. ‘It could be that he wishes your love given to one who is of a station to accept it.’

Khatrene said nothing, simply stared at him, her beautiful royal-hued eyes wide with disbelief. Her snow hair had fallen again from its restraint to tumble around her face like the curling white water of a river rapid. Her aura, like a weak copy of the rainbows of Magoria she had described, bled into the forest around them. At last she found her voice. ‘What has that got to do with anything?’

‘Your brother is brusque in his manner.’ Talis tried to sound calm but the fear in his heart was difficult to overcome. ‘I believe it is displeasure that makes him so.’

‘Displeasure that I’m in love with you?’

‘I am not of noble blood —’

‘
Please.
’ She looked so stricken Talis wished he could recall his words. ‘I can’t believe we’re having this argument. Again. I love you.’ Seconds ticked by as a frown grew on her forehead. ‘But if you don’t love me any more …’

‘No.’ He took her hand and drew her behind a thicket. ‘My heart has not changed,’ he said softly, ‘yet grows each day as the love between us feeds it.’

She looked up into his eyes, her own full of concern. ‘Show me,’ she said.

Talis knew only one way. He lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers, knowing he must be careful that they were not seen, yet losing that care the moment her breath meshed with his and her lips parted. It had been so long. Her hands went to his hair, his shoulders, grasping his arms as she pressed against him, and every thought to protect them from her brother’s eyes fled his mind. Her body felt hot beneath his hands and her mouth was like a whirlpool of sweetness, drawing him towards pleasure and away from grief.

Such was his fear that she could not be his, Talis almost lost himself in that moment, almost lay her beneath him on the soft leaves underfoot to claim what his heart had told him was his, theirs. But instead, when she tugged on his arms to do just that, he resisted and pulled her away, looking down into her darkened eyes with more confusion and grief than before.

‘I cannot take what is not mine to claim,’ he said.

She blinked. ‘Claim?’ The word sounded bitter on her lips.

‘We are not wed.’

‘We couldn’t wed,’ she reminded him, ‘because I was already married to a man who’d killed my parents and was planning to kill me, a man who stabbed my brother right before my eyes.’ She jabbed a finger towards the clearing where Mihale stood but Talis could not look away from her eyes. He ached for the pain he saw there. She drew in a deep shuddering breath before she continued. ‘None of that mattered when we were running away from him. We made love every day. We love each other.’ She pulled on his hand to lead him back to the clearing. ‘I’m not going to let Mihale stand in the way of —’

‘No,’ Talis hissed, and used his superior strength to keep her at his side. ‘Please. Let us not tax the King’s mind when it may yet be weakened by his return from death. Perhaps that is why he speaks strangely. We will reach the Volcastle this very day and there we can devise a plan to reunite you with your daughter.’

Khatrene was distracted by this as he had known she would be.

‘Once we are settled there …’ His eyes pleaded with hers to see the sense of his words.

Her expression lightened and he could see she was swayed. ‘Alright. No obvious shows of affection, but I hate that I have to wait.’

He smiled to encourage her, relieved that she had softened and could understand his fears. ‘As do I,’ he reassured her. ‘Not a moment goes by that I do not ache to …’ He trailed off as a slow smile touched her lips.

‘Claim what belongs to you?’ Mischief lit up her eyes and she kissed him again, this time slowly and with such deliberate seduction that Talis found he was in no fit state to return to his king when she eased away from him. ‘I’m not waiting forever,’ she whispered. ‘You’re mine, and I intend to
claim
you,’ her hand brushed the front of his breeches and Talis knew real torture then, ‘whether my brother approves or not.’ She tucked one of her many errant curls behind her ear and gave him a knowing glance before strolling off towards camp, pausing once to glance over her shoulder at him and smile.

Talis moved back behind the hedge to compose himself and wait for his ardour to soften, but her wicked sense of humour and the deliberate way she had teased him did not aid his cause. She could not sway him with words so she had used her body. Yet rather than being angered, Talis loved her all the more. She had proven a formidable enemy to her husband, and now Talis was discovering that her love was as invincible as her determination had been.

Yet much though his thoughts craved to dwell on his beloved from sunrise till nightfall, they inevitably returned to their king and the duty Talis owed him. Since the moment Mihale had awoken from his semblance of death and seen Talis kissing Khatrene, there had been awkwardness between them all. He could only hope that their fast return to the Volcastle would set that to rights.

If not, at least it would afford him privacy in which to break the law.

V
andal sat in semidarkness in the last row of a hot auditorium staring at the back of Petra Mabindi’s head, five rows in front. The tired airconditioning unit behind him wheezed so loudly he could barely hear his science teacher, Mr Comma, prattling on about stars. The slide show on the screen behind him was equally forgettable — Hubble Telescope pictures that had been old when his father had arrived on Ennae a decade and a half ago.

Not that it mattered. Vandal didn’t believe what his teacher was saying anyway. Oh, the facts about their own universe, maybe. But not his assumptions about time and the nature of space. Ennae had no stars. Vandal knew that from the Brown Kingdom stories his father had told him. A world with two moons and no stars in its night sky. Wonder which corner of the universe Mr Comma thought that lay in? Then again, maybe Mr Comma didn’t believe what he was saying either. He was probably prattling on simply because he was paid to.

Vandal’s attention strayed back to Petra. He hadn’t been able to catch her alone to speak to her all week. He wasn’t sure where she’d hidden during lunch hours, maybe in the girls’ toilets, but he’d searched everywhere else: the library, the tuckshop, the sports rooms where the older girls went to borrow hover hoops and drool over the new sports teacher. Naturally she hadn’t been there. She hadn’t been anywhere.

All his exertion had gained him was the usual contemptuous glances from his peers. But now he and Petra were in the same class and he had the seat closest to the door. He’d get out first and confront her. Then she’d have to talk to him, explain why she’d left the lake before he’d regained consciousness.

He was pretty sure she hadn’t told anyone. At least, no one had come to take him away. His father was the true alien, but Vandal had seen enough sci-fi movies to know that if the government found out about him he’d end up in a lab somewhere having his Guardian blood drained for analysis.

Keeping his powers secret had been a terrible burden, made worse by his mother’s stony silences. Petra discovering him should have freaked him out, but instead he’d been swamped with relief and the desperate desire to finally talk about it, to tell Petra how amazed he’d been when he’d healed his first cut. Maybe one day he’d tell her how he struggled with anger at his father for leaving them, how hard it was not to be crushed by his mother’s indifference. But sharing the secret of his powers came first. He only hoped he could get past his reputation as a loser. And if that was why she was avoiding him, he’d have to convince her otherwise, because he was determined to heal her bruised arm.

He knew nothing about Petra apart from the fact that she was in the same year as he was, had made the debating team, obviously knew CPR and was appallingly short-sighted, but he wanted to trust her. He was going to trust her. If only he could pin her down.

The auditorium lights snapped on and Vandal blinked. ‘Next Friday, last session,’ Mr Comma said over the sound of bags being dragged off the wooden floor. ‘We’ll come straight here for part two of “My Galaxy, My Universe”.’

Kids were already standing up, girls plucking their sweaty tunics off the back of their legs and whispering about God only knew what, boys jostling and shoving each other.

Vandal, who always sat alone, was up and on his way to the door, trying to find Petra’s dark head in the crowd, but she was shorter than the others. Not that it mattered. There was only one exit. He stepped through and waited two steps past it, his eyes searching the sweaty throng as they emerged. Finally he saw her, obviously trying to hide in a pack of taller girls.

Without compunction he leant in and grabbed her hand. ‘Petra,’ he said, hauling her out, to the stunned surprise of those watching. The girls around her stopped and stared, blocking the doorway. Petra snatched her hand back and kept her eyes on her feet, but her falling hair couldn’t hide the red blocks of colour on her cheeks. For a horrible five seconds nobody moved. Nobody said anything. Even the mob trapped in the auditorium grew quiet, as though sensing the scene outside.

Then Vandal got his mouth working. ‘I want to … walk you home,’ he said. ‘Here, I’ll carry your bag.’ This was in deference to the bandaged wrist he knew he was responsible for. But when he reached for the satchel slung over her shoulder, Petra backed away, raising her eyes only long enough to glare at him before setting off across the netball court towards the school gate. Bitumen crunched beneath her sports shoes, punctuating the ominous silence behind them.

Vandal had just set off after her when one of the girls she’d been hiding behind said, ‘Talk about Adonis and the dweeb. So, is she giving head?’

‘What else could he see in her?’ her friend replied.

‘You know she looks after orphaned bats? Well, maybe when they’re fattened up she lets him eat them.’

‘Kinky.’

Laughter broke out behind Vandal and he stalled. He was just about to turn back when he felt Petra’s hand on his arm. ‘Don’t you dare,’ she whispered, and tugged him along beside her, not saying another word until they were both through the gate. Then she unhanded him as though he was diseased and set off down the footpath towards the nice end of town.

Her parents must be wealthy, and if Vandal wanted to lie to himself he could pretend that was why she didn’t want to be seen with him. Only Vandal was sick of lying, especially to himself.

It was a scorching hot day and he was tempted to stop and get his drink bottle out, but Petra set a cracking pace. His long stride covered two of her steps but she was power walking as though the legendary Serpent of Haddash himself was after her.

They crossed the street and on the next block it was cooler. The jacaranda trees were in bloom and the footpath was awash with tiny purple flowers the latest storm had shredded off. In this part of town the houses were all old Queenslanders with wide verandahs and pretty flowerbeds, carefully covered against the storms, unlike Vandal’s mum’s. Once upon a time she’d grown snapdragons and petunias and happy little pansies because his dad had loved the colours. Just dirt now.

Petra began to walk faster and he loped to catch up. ‘Look, I’m sorry about that,’ he said, realising that if he didn’t start talking they’d arrive at her place and she’d simply march inside and leave him stranded on the footpath. ‘The year ten girls are bitches.’

‘Just leave me alone.’ Her voice wobbled and he figured she was angrier than he’d thought.

‘But I didn’t say thank you properly at the lake.’ He thought for a moment. ‘Actually, I don’t think I said it at all.’ No reply. ‘So … thanks.’ She just kept power walking so he continued to stride alongside, not sure how he could salvage the situation. ‘You saved my life.’

‘Twice,’ she snapped, then frowned as though begrudging the word.

Vandal smiled. He’d never tell her because it was such a cliché, but she looked kinda cute when she was angry. Like a bitey little mouse. ‘So I owe you two.’

Petra stopped at the corner and turned on him. ‘And what exactly does that mean?’ She was positively glaring at him, as though he’d ruined her life. And her hands were shaking. She was really worked up. His smile faded. ‘Will you follow me around until you’ve saved my life twice?’ she demanded. ‘Or are you going to bestow some wonderful favour? The pleasure of your company? Is that it? You’re going to walk me home from school twice? I suppose you think I’ve got a crush on you b-b-because I just happened to be at the lake.’ He’d never heard her stutter before. ‘I wasn’t following you.’

‘I believe you. Hey …’ Vandal felt battered. ‘… I’m trying to be friendly. Cut me some slack.’

She kept glaring. ‘I wish I’d never …’ then faltered.

‘Saved my life? Am I such a waste of space?’ Vandal knew he was thought of as antisocial, and he’d probably made a complete mess of linking up with her just now. No doubt she’d be teased mercilessly, but you could ignore that. He’d done it for years, growing up with Glimmer as his older sister, ‘brother of the autistic girl’, weird by association. But if you ignored the jibes, they eventually stopped.

‘How could
Adonis
be a waste of space?’ she spat back at him, but instead of jumping in to defend himself, Vandal studied her, wondering what the hell was going on. The little he’d noticed about Petra was that she was quiet. At the lake she’d shown him she was also kind. It didn’t seem like her to act so … cornered? Was that it? A little cornered mouse fighting for its life? But he wasn’t threatening her. Was he?

‘Do I scare you or something?’ he asked. She blinked, then looked away and after a second started walking again, fast. He hurried to catch up. ‘I
do
scare you.’ But they’d never spoken before yesterday. ‘What have I done? Is it because I hurt your arm?’

She tucked the bandaged wrist against her waist and shook her head. Was she lying?

‘Petra?’

Nothing.

‘I swear to you, I don’t take drugs or go in for necrophilia or any of the other things they say I do.’

‘Leave me alone.’

He almost stopped, wondering why he was persisting. If the girl wanted to be left alone … But she hadn’t told anyone. He was sure of it. And that meant he could trust her.

‘I’m a
dweeb
,’ she said clearly, although her voice was wobbling again. ‘Just the sort of dweeb people will imagine has a stupid crush on you. And I don’t.’

‘I believe you.’ It was screamingly obvious.

‘And anyway, people like you have no business —’

‘I’m not like other people,’ he said, and risked grabbing her good arm again. He pulled her to a stop under a beer-gut bottle tree that stood on the corner of the street. ‘And I’m not fucking Adonis either,’ he said quite clearly.

Petra simply stared at him, shocked into silence. Vandal had shocked himself. He didn’t normally swear. But he’d wanted to get her attention. It had worked. ‘I didn’t know you could fuck Greek Gods,’ she said calmly, and the obscenity sounded even funnier coming out of her mouth.

Despite how anxious he’d been, he had to grin. ‘I like you, Petra.’ It was the first thing that came into his head.

She gazed up at him through her owlish glasses, looking so very serious with her hair tucked behind her ears. He wondered what she’d look like with a ponytail and no glasses. Not that he was interested in her that way.

Seconds ticked over and she made no reply so he figured she was making it clear she didn’t think of him
that
way either. His mother used to tell him he had his father’s big puppy feet. Was that how Petra saw him, as a big puppy she’d dragged out of a puddle? He should probably feel insulted when he knew there were plenty of girls who thought he was good-looking. But strangely, Petra’s reaction was another relief.

His smile widened. ‘Friends?’ he asked, wondering what it would be like to have a friend, someone you could share things with. Scary probably. But meeting Petra had changed him. His fear of being discovered had become overshadowed by the need to stop being alone. The burden of trying to get his powers to work, knowing he had to travel to another world to bring his father back, not knowing what the dangers there might be — it was suddenly all too much for him.

He needed someone to talk to. Wanted that someone to be Petra.

She nodded her acceptance, as though she didn’t trust herself to speak. Maybe she was still angry.

Vandal figured he’d pushed her far enough for one day, but there was one last matter he wanted resolved before his conscience ate him up. ‘About your wrist,’ he said, looking into her eyes. ‘I can make it better.’

‘So you do other people as well?’ She
had
seen him healing himself. Vandal tried to still his momentary panic. He could trust Petra. He’d already decided that.

‘In theory. I’ve only tried it on animals, but I’m sure —’ He reached out to touch her arm and she pulled away, eyes widening.

‘What? Now? Here?’ The anxiety was back and she looked as though she was about to run off.

‘Somewhere private would be better,’ he said calmly, reminding himself that he was used to his powers, it was only natural that they’d freak Petra out. ‘But I can do it here if you want me to.’

‘No.’ She held her arm firmly against herself, frowning at him, then she turned away to look up the street. He was wondering if this was a brush-off when she turned back to him and said, ‘It’s Monday. Mum’s visiting her aunty. There’s no one home at my place.’

‘Great …’ Vandal had his heart set on fixing her arm but he knew this was dangerous ground, going to a girl’s house when her parents were out. The innocence of his mission didn’t matter. If they were caught, it would look bad. ‘When does she get back?’

‘Five-thirty.’

Two hours. ‘What do you think?’ he said, and waited to hear her reply — testing her to see if she was as keen for this friendship as he was. Two loners pairing up.

Pairing up? Wait a minute, that’s not what he’d meant. But the imaginative part of his mind instantly put Petra in a swimsuit and a ponytail, lying in his arms.
Whoa
! He looked away, trying to get a grip on himself. This was Petra, not … one of the grade ten girls who’d been sniping her, the ones who paraded around the poolside as though it was a catwalk.

‘I think …’ She frowned and Vandal dragged his attention back. ‘My neighbours might tell Mum.’

‘I could sneak in the back. You go in the front.’

What was he doing? Trying to talk her into it? She was being polite about no. He should leave it at that. Was he worried that she’d change her mind, wake up in the morning and realise she didn’t want to be his friend after all? What could he do this afternoon to stop that? Pestering her would only help her realise he was trouble. He should back off. Shouldn’t he?

Vandal really didn’t recognise himself amid all this desperation. A week ago he’d barely acknowledged Petra Mabindi’s existence on the planet. Now he was making a fool of himself to get an hour of her time.

She turned away from him and he was thinking,
That’s it, she’s walking
, when she said, ‘What’s that noise?’

Vandal hadn’t noticed the clouds coming in because he and Petra had been sheltered under the wide branches of the bottle tree. But now that he followed her out and looked up he could see a storm was approaching. Fast. Thunder vibrated the ground beneath them and the bulkhead of clouds racing towards them had a definite green underbelly.