Guardian of the Dead (38 page)

‘What?' I whispered.

‘Darling girl, it's a tale as old as time! But they can't ever seem to get the ending right. The Beast becomes human and rides off on his merry way. But Beauty, beautiful no more, howls and hurries through the enchanted castle, her claws clattering on the hard stone floors.' He waved his hand. ‘“And they all lived happily ever after.” Oh
dear
. I really cannot abide lies.'

‘You twist the truth,' I said. My head was pounding.

‘You seem such a nice girl,' he confided, reaching to pat my arm, smiling when I shied away. ‘I thought I would warn you.'

‘You twist it into knots.'

‘I certainly do, my sweet. But I never lie.' He looked over my shoulder. ‘Do I, dearest Mark?'

I whirled. Mark's eyes met mine through the smoky air, their vibrant green dulled. But if there was guilt there, or even sorrow, I couldn't see it.

‘No,' he said. ‘You don't lie.'

THE DAY I WENT UNDER

I
DISCOVERED MARK HAD
been holding back on our wild flight through the Gardens. He was impressively speedy as he raced after me.

But he'd been fasting for over a day, and my legs were as long as his, and, as it turned out, I was faster.

I pounded down the beach, ignoring the sand weighing down my sneakers and the weird buzzing in my mind. The handbag thumped against my ribs as I pumped my arms, and I ignored that too, scrambling up the rock path at the sharp curve of the beach, climbing for the cape. The birds shrieked and scolded as we climbed, almost loud enough to muffle the refrain of
stupid stupid stupid
that reverberated in my head.

Mark cried ‘Ellie!' and ‘It's not safe!' but I was their dumb mascot because this place was my home. I knew where the rough-cut steps went shallow at the top, and I shortened my step, still at the full speed Mark couldn't match.

Behind me, there was a thump, and a breathy curse word. You could hurt yourself badly, falling on the steps. I smiled, and only then noticed that I'd run that tricky stretch still holding the damn water bottle. I flung it to the side and ran faster, up the long-grassed curve of the hill. The prickling sensation that had urged me to
run, run, run
faded as soon as the bottle left my hand, but I'd settled into my stride.

I was well up the slope, moving fast, when I fell.

I didn't trip. The ground bucked and twisted under me and my feet tangled, so quickly I could do nothing but fling my arms around the handbag to cushion it. I landed hard on my back and lay there, trying to breathe, trying to make the black spots in my eyes go away. I was not going to cry.

I was
not
going to cry.

Mark panted up and crouched a few steps away from me, just barely in my field of vision. He'd cut his lip, on the other side from where I'd split it, only three nights before.

‘Fuck off,' I said, after a few silent minutes where he didn't seem to have got the hint.

‘I just want to talk.'

‘You were trying to
trap
me.' He'd betrayed me so many times; how had I thought it possible that some of it was genuine?

‘No!'

‘Oh, screw you.' I stood up. ‘Strike that; I'm glad I didn't. You said you liked me! Bad TV, talking for hours!'

‘I do!' he cried.

‘Liar! I believed you. I thought—' My voice cracked. ‘I am so
stupid
. Have you been laughing at me this whole time? Dumb, fat Ellie, thinking someone like you could ever—'

‘No!' he said, face stark with horror. ‘Oh, no, Ellie, no! I meant to
tell
you. Warn you. I just couldn't find the right time.'

‘Well, that's original.'

‘I heard Sand telling you. He knew I was there. I thought, well, she can't love me now. She'll be safe.' He looked at me.

‘I want you to be safe, Ellie.'

‘Too late!' I snarled. ‘And since when do you get to choose that for me?'

‘I was going to tell you about the curse,' he insisted. ‘But I didn't think you were in any danger.'

I laughed, high and mocking. ‘Are you kidding me, or just yourself? I pushed you down on my bed and stuck my tongue down your throat!'

He flushed. ‘I thought maybe that was – you know. Just . . . attraction. Sex.'

‘Oh,
please
! You think I'm that shallow?'

‘I think you're amazing,' he said, and my last words stuck in my throat. ‘And I really do like you. I know I shouldn't, but the thing is —' ‘The thing is, you told yourself “she won't say she loves me,” all the time secretly hoping I would. Didn't you?'

‘I hope not,' he whispered.

I flattened my anger over the hurt welling up under my ribcage.

‘You knew what I was,' he said, raking his hair back from his face, eyes wild with the will to make me believe. ‘You knew that my face is a lie; just pretending to be human. And you still wanted me, you could touch me, you could see what I am, the only one who knew and wanted me all the same, and you said I wasn't a —' his chest hitched. ‘Not a monster. I was going to tell you, and then I thought, well, I'm probably going to die in the underworld, so why can't I have this until then? I'm the stupid one; not you. I'm so sorry.'

I studied his face. He was so beautiful. So obviously repentant. ‘I remember. I said you were a
good enough
person.'

He nodded, hope flaring in his face.

‘I was wrong,' I said. ‘I was so wrong about you. You are every
inch
your mother's son.'

Watching Mark cry made me feel mean and bitchy instead of righteously avenged, so after a few moments of the awful choked noises coming from behind his cupped hands, I opened the handbag to check on the mask.

It was fine.

It also had a number of suggestions for what I could do to Mark. Perhaps he should lick the dirt from my shoes. Or dance off the edge of the cliff. Or eat his own fingers. He'd do anything, if I only I put it on and made him love me.

No, I told it, aching, and stuffed it back into the bag.

Mark was staring at me, tears smeared over his high cheekbones.

‘I wasn't
going
to use it,' I said before I remembered I didn't have to defend myself to him.

‘Shut up,' he said.

‘
What
did you just—'

‘Shhhh!' He was looking past me, head tilted as if he was listening, eyes wide and terrified.

With a jolt I realised just how far we'd run from the beach. We were high on the slope, the rest of our people hidden behind the swell of the hillside and the curve of the cliff. I couldn't hear them singing.

It's not safe
, he'd said.

I'd thought he was talking about running on wet rock. Now I registered the grey wetness in the air. A sea mist had come in, and I didn't need to ask if it was natural. It tingled unpleasantly against my bare face. In seconds it was so thick I could only make out Mark by my memory of where he was. I caught a strain of aching flute music, high and discordant.

A light rain began to fall.

‘Oh, no,' I whispered. The patupaiarehe weren't waiting for the night. They were trading the power the night gave them for the chance of taking the beach defenders unprepared.

I stood up as quietly as I could, sliding into a defensive position with Mark at my back.

‘We're surrounded,' he said softly. ‘They'll find us in a moment.'

I peered through the murk, hoping to see the attack before it came, trying to find someone to kick. Three dozen patupaiarehe, and I'd barely survived a fight with one.
Just
one
, I thought,
just let me take down one
. My parents were going to come home to bury their daughter.
Oh, Mum, I'm
so sorry.

Mark hit me with the charm while my back was turned.

One last betrayal, I thought, wondering how I could even be surprised. My legs stiffened and I toppled. Mark's arms were around my waist to ease my fall, lowering me flat. He hadn't touched me at all since we'd kissed on the end of my bed, his skin warm under my palms.

I couldn't feel his hands now. The spell was taking me under, transforming me into something still and quiet. I didn't have a shred of anything to resist it. Even the mask was numb, taken as unawares as I was.

It was the pebble charm, which turned flesh to stone.

I watched Mark yank it free of his bracelet and balance the small grey stone in the hollow of my collarbone, fingers resting for a fluttering moment on my throat. Motionless as the rock I was becoming, I waited to die.

But instead of pressing down, he tugged the flax bag out from under his shirt, hooked his free hand into the neckband of my jersey and shoved the bag under it. His mother's eyes lay between my breasts, alive and horrible, and unhappy to be near me.

He balanced over me on all fours and whispered into my ear. ‘If you can, get these to Matiu. Tell him to go.'

I could no longer speak, but my eyes must have asked the question.

‘I'm sorry,' he said. ‘It'll wear off after I'm dead.'

And then he was running into the fog, bright hair gleaming. The patupaiarehe shouted when they saw him, and he shouted something back, but whether it was ‘Come and get me!' or ‘I love you,' I couldn't tell. Stone crept into my mind until I could feel nothing at all.

Grateful, I slept.

Lying on the cold hillside, my mind woke before my body did. There was one terrifying moment of being rock, and being aware I was rock, before the last of the charm faded and I could move.

I jerked up, the skin on my hands fading from dark grey to splotchy pink. Reka's legacy banged against my chest.

I wasted no time in finding out if my legs could hold me, and scrambled down the slope on my hands and knees, pleading under my breath to a God I didn't believe in. Somewhere, I knew the hope was useless. If it hadn't happened, I wouldn't have woken up.

Mark lay a little further down the hill, a motionless, crumpled heap of blood and rags.

My head rang with the suddenness of the silence. For that stretched moment I couldn't hear the cries of the birds or the yells of the people fighting on the beach below. My vision narrowed to Mark and the bright smears of red that had been his face.

I stood up. One part of me noted that I was remarkably steady as I sauntered down to sit beside him. I'd torn the knees of my jeans as I'd crawled, and blood seeped through one of the holes. It didn't hurt. That was the weird thing. Nothing hurt at all.

He'd flung up his arms, trying to protect his head. The charm bracelet was gone.

‘You should have learned to fight,' I said vaguely, and bent to stroke a gore-soaked strand of hair. ‘I could have taught you.' In the movies, you could close the eyelids of a dead man by passing one hand over his face. I had to pinch the skin of his right eyelid and tug, and even then it wouldn't close all the way over the emptied eye socket.

It looked like a picture taken by some jaded war photographer, or a special effect in a slasher film. It was too stark and awful to be real. This crumpled thing couldn't be brave Mark, of the bright smile and dark-green eyes and unbearable burdens that he'd somehow managed to bear.

‘You lied to me,' I said suddenly, and poked his shoulder. ‘On
numerous
occasions. Arsehole.' Anger was good. If I could just stay angry . . .

The bag under my shirt swung heavily forward at the movement and I remembered what he'd told me to do. ‘I have to get these to Matiu,' I told Mark. ‘I'll come back after that. Straight after.'

My throat was starting to close up, but I took deep breaths and forced myself to my feet, hunching over the empty ache in my chest. The mask was whispering something, but I made a black handbag in my mind, and locked its voice away in there along with everything else that hurt too much to think about.