Reality Bites (18 page)

‘Isn’t it usually a Minotaur?’ piped up Stiles.  ‘At the centre of a maze I mean, not a deer.’

The witch pupped her lips.  ‘Another one who reads too much,’ she said, derisively.  ‘Anyway, they calls it a maze, but it ain’t what you’d expect – you starts at the centre for one thing and you have to find your way out.’

She spun round suddenly to face Denny.  ‘
You!
’ she said. ‘You cannot enter the labyrinth; you must stay behind. Go back to where you came from.’

‘What? Why?’ said Tamar.

‘It’s okay,’ said Denny.  ‘I should go back anyway.  I’ve been thinking about it – all those people …’

‘That’s not the point,’ said Tamar.  She turned to the witch.  ‘Why can’t he go?’  But the witch just shook her head and would not say.

‘Just go,’ said Denny.  ‘You have to.’  He was taking it very well, considering.

‘Okay,’ said Tamar, ungraciously.  ‘What do we have to do?’

The witch nodded and took a large branch and drew on the floor of the cave, a small picture of a maze with a space in the centre, large enough for three people to stand in.  ‘Stand here.’ She pointed.  ‘I’ll do the rest.

Tamar and Stiles stepped into the square; Cindy hesitated.  ‘I can’t,’ she said, she was as white as a sheet.  She looked at Stiles imploringly.  ‘You don’t really need me do you?’

Tamar and Stiles looked at each other and shrugged.

‘I guess not,’ said Tamar. ‘I don’t know.’

The old witch cackled derisively.  ‘Call yourself a witch? – You ought to be ashamed.’

Cindy went from white to fiery red. She looked up and caught sight of Denny’s mocking gaze. It was the first time she had really noticed him.

‘You can come back with me and fight,’ he said, grinning wolfishly.

‘Hobson’s choice,’ said the old witch.

‘All right, I’ll go,’ said Cindy and stepped into the square.  Whatever awaited her in the labyrinth, she felt, could not be worse than being left alone with Denny.  How had she not noticed, before, how scary and intimidating he was?

The old witch mumbled a few words and waved an arm. Tamar disappeared.

‘Damn!’ said the witch.  She did it again and Stiles vanished, leaving Cindy alone looking awkward. 

‘Last chance,’ said Denny.  Cindy ignored him.  The witch repeated the process once more, and Cindy was gone.

The old witch and Denny faced each other.

‘Well,’ said Denny, drawing out the Athame and unsheathing it.  ‘You know what I’m going to do I take it?’ 

The witch nodded.

‘And it’s what you
want
?’

‘It’s why I chose you to stay behind. I knew you would do it, soon as I seen you. Them others – they ain’t never … they ain’t got the stones. But you have, haven’t you my lad, it wouldn’t be the first time for you?’

‘Oh yes,’ said Denny, grinning wolfishly. ‘I’ve got the – stones all right. And I can make my own way home, can I?’

‘Oh yes.’

‘Good,’ said Denny, and, striking suddenly like a snake, he plunged the Athame into the old witch’s heart.

She fell to the ground, millennia suddenly showing in her face.  ‘Thank you,’ she croaked, before crumbling into dust.

‘Don’t mention it,’ said Denny, with a strange smile on his face.  He sheathed the blade, turned and waved a hand. A door appeared in the wall of the cave, through it, he could see the dark streets he had left behind. 

‘Cool,’
he thought, as he felt the witch’s stolen powers surge through him.  That was how he had killed her; he had taken her immortality.  He stepped forward and hesitated.
W
ith the witch’s power, he realised, he could follow the others into the labyrinth.  Should he? He shrugged and tossed the Athame up into the air, where it twirled three times before he caught it, and walked, whistling softly, back into the world.  He really did not think he could stand too much more of Cindy’s company.  Not without a gag on her anyway.

~ Chapter Twenty Two ~

T
amar landed with a bump and was disconcerted to find herself alone on what appeared to be a tropical sandy beach (with the obligatory swaying palms and a sky so blue it made her eyes hurt.)

 She waited a full ten minutes, but neither Stiles or Cindy appeared, so she began to walk.

She had felt the difference in herself immediately.  She still had her powers, but here, they were a natural thing.  It was ironic that Denny should have been held back from here.  Magical places were the only places where her powers were not dangerous to mortals.

After a good half hour, she started to worry.  Nothing at all was happening and the beach was apparently endless, it led nowhere. How the hell was she supposed to get out of here? And where were the others?  Stiles would be okay, she thought, but Cindy would be panicking, unless the two of them were together, of course, but somehow, she doubted it. 

Also, although the beach was beautiful it was lonely, she began to miss Denny, who could be relied upon to make light of the worst of situations.

The sparkling sea was on her right, and on her left was a sheer cliff face, which seemed so high that the top of it was in the clouds.  This was definitely
not
a real place, but then she had not expected that it would be. If she had had any doubts, the picture postcard appearance of the beach would have dealt with that. No real beach was without the customary decoration of discarded beer cans and/or dead fish, no matter what it looks like in the brochure.

On the other hand, this place was more desert island than centre of the labyrinth. It gave her a horrible trapped feeling,
where’s Robinson Crusoe when you need him?

Although she knew that her first priority should be to work out how the hell to get out of here, she was far too preoccupied with wondering where the others had got to, to concentrate on this.

There were undoubtedly clues here, but she was too busy searching to notice them if there were any. She wondered if that was not the point.

She slipped off her shoes, and the sand between her toes reminded her of something,
sand?

It was a lovely beach, Stiles thought.  But he would far rather have been where he had expected to be. Not to mention, he had expected Tamar to be waiting for him, surely he had only been a few seconds behind her?  He debated whether to try to find her, or to wait, where he was, for Cindy to appear.  Like Tamar, he was confused as to why a beach? – As opposed to the centre of an actual maze, with high stone walls and gargoyles, or large, leafy hedges.

When, after a few minutes, Cindy still had not appeared he started to worry.  He was definitely alone then?  Then he noticed footprints leading away from him; Tamar had
been here then.  How had she got away so fast, on foot?  Stiles was thinking too literally again; he always forgot that he had left normal some time ago.  He decided to follow them, maybe Tamar had found something; Cindy would just have to find them on her own, or perhaps she had decided not to come after all.

Cindy was not enjoying the beach.  What was the point of a beach with no men around to admire her in a string bikini?  She was well aware that she had left normal; she had, in fact, never been to normal as far as she could remember, but this was no help to her in her current situation.  She was as lost as the others were, although not as surprised to be on a beach as they were. She knew how witches’ minds tended to work.  She spotted the exit almost immediately, but it was no use to her by herself, no way was she facing the labyrinth on her own.  She was annoyed that they had just gone and left her, as she thought. She was especially disappointed in Stiles, from whom she had had great hopes, although she had not failed to notice his interest in Tamar.  But surely no one would be foolish enough to mess with that psycho, Denny?

‘Oh well,’ she thought, ‘might as well get in some sunbathing.’  She settled down under a convenient palm tree, and tried not to cry.

‘Sand?’
 Tamar bent down and scooped up a handful.  She watched, thoughtfully, as it trickled through her fingers; something stirred in her memory,
the sands of time, trickling away.
 Well, that seemed fair enough, time was certainly a factor here. Of course, she could always take an unfair advantage, assuming she had the power in this place.

She thought for a moment.  ‘Tempus Suspendré,’ she said.  The sand in her palm froze in mid trickle.  The waves were stilled, and the wind through the trees ceased, the world was as still as a photograph.  The only thing still moving was Tamar herself, now she had all the time in the world.  The only question was – to do what?

She tried to shake the remaining grains of sand from her hand, but, since they were frozen in time, they would not move. ‘Oh for God’s sake! There’s always something!’ she thought impatiently.

Out of the corner of her eye she thought she saw a shadow moving.  She glanced round in disbelief and saw – Stiles!  He was walking toward her, first at a normal pace and then he seemed to be slowing down like a film winding down until he stopped, as frozen as the rest of the world around her. 
What the hell?
 There was no time (so to speak) to wonder about this; Tamar was just glad to have found him.

She was glad that her trick had worked at all. 
S
ince arriving in the labyrinth, she had felt a definite – not draining of her powers exactly, which was what had happened in the deleted file, but, at the very least, a displacement of them. As if a part of her was elsewhere, but still functioning.

In “other” places, like this, her powers often changed or left her temporarily, but this was different. She wished Denny was here. She would probably have been able to at least give him a hug without killing him. It was ironic that it was he, out of all of them, who had been left behind. She sighed internally, back to work.

She snapped her fingers and time resumed its normal functioning.  Stiles continued walking, as if he had not noticed a thing.

‘Jack,’ she called, ‘over here.’  She waved her arms.  Stiles started, as if she had just appeared out of nowhere, which from his point of view, she had.

‘Tamar?’ he turned to walk toward her.  ‘Where the hell have you been?’

‘Nice to see you too. And I think the question should probably be –
when
the hell have I been?’

‘What?’

‘I’ve just figured it out, I think.  What happened in the cave?’

‘You vanished first – by yourself.’

‘I thought so.  We ended up being sent here in different times.’

‘Of course we … hang on –
in
different times.  What do you mean?’

‘Well, I was sent what, ten seconds …?’

‘Yeah, about that.’

‘Ten seconds before you. So you ended up in a time that was ten seconds behind the time that I’m in.’

‘So, how did I catch up to you?’

‘I froze time.’

‘So – Cindy?’

‘Well if she didn’t arrive with you, then she’s in another time zone, behind us.’

‘Look I don’t get it, how does it work, just because I arrived at a different time …’

‘Not
at
a different time,
in
a different time.  Even if I’d waited here forever, if I hadn’t frozen time I’d always have been ten seconds ahead. Ten seconds or ten years, it’s all the same thing.’

‘So, again I ask – Cindy?’

‘Oh yes, Tempus Suspendré.’

Stiles froze, and Tamar had an impish impulse to pull his pants down or tie his shoelaces together.  She stifled it and un-froze him, he stared at the world around him in amazement.  ‘So this is the world in freeze-frame?’

‘She’s not around here, we’ll have to go and look for her.’

Cindy got the point immediately, when Tamar explained what she thought had happened.  ‘Makes sense,’ she said.  ‘Back when this place was created, there were probably many people at once taking the maze. It wouldn’t do to have them running into each other, I suppose. By the way – time freezing – nice power.’

‘Thank you. So where do we go from here?’

Cindy pointed to the cliff face.  ‘Over there I should think, try to find a cave or a passage or something.’

They stared at her.

‘Not just a pretty face, am I?’ she simpered, looking at Stiles.  He missed the point, completely.  Disappointed, she turned away toward the cliff.  ‘Come on then.’  She said briskly.

It took some time to find the passageway; they were considerably hampered by the intervention of the shepherd.

The appearance of the sheep milling around in the sand at the foot of a cliff was a
bit
of a surprise and should have served as a warning that something was wrong.  Stiles, who had lived in a city his entire life, postulated that maybe they were mountain sheep, as there were, so he understood, mountain goats.  But, as Cindy pointed out, even “mountain sheep” would need grass, surely?

Stiles argued that they probably were not real sheep anyway.

As far as Tamar was concerned the fact that there were sheep at all was a worry; there was something about it that teased her mind.  Why sheep?  It was frustrating; ever since she had become human she had found that things were harder to recall; she was constantly struggling with thoughts and memories that danced around the edges of her consciousness, but could not be accessed.

The ground shook with a great bellowing, and it came to her.

‘Look out for the shepherd!’ she called.

‘Shepherd?’ asked Stiles.  ‘Where?’

Tamar pointed silently to a huge figure on a ledge above them.

Stiles craned his head back.  ‘Oh my – opia.’

Cindy gibbered. ‘A – a Cyclops.’

‘The traditional shepherds of mythology,’ said Tamar.  ‘I should have known.’

Despite its vast size, the Cyclops was making its way down the cliff face with astonishing speed and dexterity; it was brandishing a large club, tastefully adorned with spikes.

Tamar yawned.  ‘How unoriginal,’ she drawled.

Cindy and Stiles stared at her.

‘Stand back,’ she ordered. ‘I’ll deal with this.’