The Splendour Falls (51 page)

I had no way to fend off the corpse-white hand that came up out of the water and grabbed my trailing hair. It was indistinct but solid, and it was definitely,
definitely
not Rhys.

I
screamed like I was being murdered, frenzied terror seizing me as hard as the dead-cold fingers coming out of the river.

Rhys moved lightning fast, jerking me back. My hair slipped through the grip of the thing under the water, and my stomach lurched with revulsion. My elbows left huge patches of skin on the dirt and exposed roots as Rhys dragged me up the embankment; enough reason reached through my panic that I tried to shelter Gigi the best I could. Rhys and I landed in an awkward tangle of arms and legs that might have embarrassed me on any
other occasion. But not when something drowned and horrible had tried to drag me to my death.

‘How did it grab me?' I shouted, somewhere between hysteria and a psychotic break. ‘How did it
touch
me?'

‘I don't know.' Rhys hauled me to my feet, wrapped the discarded slicker around me and the dog shivering in the sling against my chest. ‘But we have got to go. Right now.'

I felt a rumble, and heard a roar, and looked up to see a wall of water rushing downstream, pushing the river up and over its banks, taking lumber and dirt and debris with it.

That wasn't all that came with the water. As the river rose, so did the ghosts. I watched in sick, frozen horror as they flowed, unearthly, ahead of the waves. Drowned ghosts, their shapes waterlogged and bloated. Plague ghosts, their spectres gaunt with fever and pocked with disease. They overran the invisible prison walls, hanged ghosts with broken necks and bulging tongues, figures with limbs missing, or swollen with sickness.

Rhys pushed me into motion, past the wall of exhaustion and shock. I tried not to look back as we ran. The air had turned so cold that it seared my throat, but we kept going. I cradled Gigi, wrapped in the makeshift sling, trying not to jar her. She'd gone quiet, stopped whining. My own shivers were so bad, I couldn't tell if she was still shaking or not.

Rhys, holding my hand, headed for a line of sandbags, where we paused for breath.

‘Is everyone gone from this site?' I asked, between painful attempts to fill my lungs. ‘Annabeth and Dr Young are safe?'

He nodded, reassuring me there'd be no collateral damage, but dashing any hope of a ride or help.

We were going to have to move in a moment, but I grasped for a clue, the chance he knew some magic to stop this. Maybe not the water, but the ghosts. ‘This is what you meant when you said bad things happen when you mess around with the natural balance of things?'

He was working to catch his breath too. ‘I admit, “bad things” may have been an understatement.'

I struggled to understand. ‘And this is the backlash for what the TTC has been up to?'

Shaking his head, Rhys peered over the sandbags, checking the advance of the water. ‘This could be fifty years of previous councils, previous Maddoxes.'

‘How does using earth magic give you floods and ghosts?'

‘It's all energy, all tied together. They're not entities, they're just – imprints.' He shook his head in confusion. ‘I don't know why they're so strong. This is different.'

I could feel Gigi now, panting in quick, shallow breaths. When I stroked her with light fingers, she barely moved, barely whined. ‘How far to the house?'

Rhys checked the rising tide again. ‘It's close, if you go through the woods. But we'll be closer to the river.'

‘Let's risk it.' I'd been sitting too long; we needed the rest, but urgency gripped me, tightening the knot of my nerves.

I stumbled a bit when I got up, the muscles of my weak leg going noodly for a moment. Rhys was ready, steadying me until I had both legs under me. ‘Thanks.'

On the run through the woods, I was so intent on
Gigi, I noticed nothing else. If Rhys hadn't been leading me, I would have ended up in the river again – especially as the river was so much wider than it used to be. In the corner of my eye I could see it creeping up through the woods, carrying the pine needles like flotsam.

I wasn't even sure when I'd made up my mind what to do. But as we emerged from the trees, stumbling up the hill and away from the water, I headed straight for the side garden, and the standing stone.

‘Sylvie' – Rhys caught the sleeve of my coat – ‘we need to get inside. If it starts to rain—'

He broke off as I unwrapped the sling from around my neck, cradling my tiny dog in the crook of my arm. ‘I have to do something, Rhys.' My frantic urgency had become steely determination. ‘I can't let her die.'

‘You want to do more magic, in the middle of all this?' His voice was hard, incredulous. But searching my expression, his gaze softened with pity. ‘I know you love her, but you'll be adding fuel to the fire.'

‘But nothing!' All my fury at the world when I broke my leg solidified to a sharp, painful point. ‘Bad magic hurt my dog. How is it
balance
to let that happen?'

When he didn't have an answer, I pulled away. Stepping into the centre of the garden, I wound through the faint labyrinth pattern and laid Gigi gently in her favourite spot, on a springy bed of herbs. The damp air thickened their scent around us, chasing away the smell of the river, the image of the horrors that came out of it.

I bent my ear to Gigi's side. Her ribs hardly moved and her breath was faint on my cheek.

Sitting back on my heels, I realized, with sinking desperation, that I didn't know what to do. I knew this place was important. I knew that working here in this ground had healed me in several ways. But how to evoke that, I had no clue.

Gigi's breath ran out in a deep sigh. It was a long moment before she breathed back in, and it didn't come easily. Anguish shredded the last bit of my heart. I couldn't lose her. What would keep me sane in this new, strange world of magic?

I raised imploring eyes to Rhys and wiped at the tears I hadn't noticed I'd shed. ‘Please, please help me. She's all that I have left.'

He turned his own gaze to the veiled sky, as if seeking answers or trying to hold onto his resolve. I held my breath in hope as he came to a decision and sank to his knees facing me. ‘Sylvie, love. You have everything and the whole world, and you don't realize it.'

I couldn't speak. My throat clenched with emotion. Rhys took my hands in his, smearing my tears across my fingers with his thumbs. ‘You've got everything you need here. I've watched you work in this garden and build yourself a healing sanctuary. How did you know what to do?'

‘Accident.' He looked at me, chiding, impatient. Provoking. ‘And … I thought about my dad.'

I heard Dad's voice again – another ghost, but this one alive in my head.
Every day I put my hands in the earth, Sylvie, I feel like I cheat the cancer out of one more day.

Plunging my hands into the earth on either side of Gigi, I spoke to my dad, to Mother Nature, to God. To
whatever force of the universe had made this impossible thing possible.
Please. I know it's another selfish wish. But I'll give up whatever it takes to restore the balance.

The smell of clean dirt filled my head. My fingers seemed to grow and lengthen; I seized on the imagery, picturing them seeking help, like roots after water. Instinct drove me, and I let myself be directed.

Doubling over, I breathed onto Gigi's still muzzle, stirring her tiny whiskers with life drawn from the ground. I envisioned her bones knitting, like minute green branches growing together and hardening into wood, and her poor little heart beating steadily in my hand.

Then, like the slow creep of the dawn, I realized I could feel her pulse against my palm, and her breath tickling my cheek. I sat up in surprise, in spite of everything not quite able to believe it.

‘It worked.' I laughed in amazement, and looked up at Rhys, my heart full now with joy and wonder and bursting to share it with him. ‘I did it! I fixed her, Rhys.'

‘I know you did, love.' He sounded sad, which didn't make sense when I had just done this
incredible
thing.

Giddy with excitement, I stroked my dirty hands over Gigi's fur, feeling her stir gently and without pain. ‘She's going to be OK.'

‘He doesn't get it.' I jumped at the voice that came from above us, from the corner of the balcony. With everything else going on, I'd forgotten about Shawn, but he leaned on the balustrade, looking very at ease.
‘Rhys doesn't
use
his talents. Or so he said when I asked him to join us.'

I climbed warily to my knees, angling myself protectively over Gigi's still prone body. ‘What are you doing here, Shawn?'

‘Waiting for you.' He ambled to the spiral staircase and descended it in a couple of jumps.

I shot a questioning glance at Rhys. ‘What's going on? What does he mean, he asked you to join him?'

Rhys got to his feet and stepped out of the greenery surrounding the standing stone. ‘He recognized my potential like I recognized yours. He wasn't gracious about his offer, but he could have kept watch on me if I was part of the circle. Which isn't the reason I said no.'

Shawn reappeared through the hedges, walking into my garden like he owned it, and I felt a surge of possessiveness so fierce that my hands curled into fists. ‘It's been like reality TV,' he said. ‘Alliances, challenges, double-dealing. Him watching us, us watching him. Y'all watching each other.'

I rubbed my forehead with gritty fingers, wondering when the figurative floor was going to stay level beneath me. I kept learning new things that I had to fit into the pattern. ‘What was it that kept you from telling me what was going on, Rhys?'

He sighed, resigned. But his gaze met mine unflinchingly, full of guilt and self-recrimination. ‘The mine in Pembrokeshire.'

I added up my fragments of clues on the subject. I knew he felt responsible, only I had figured it was because he couldn't stop what he saw happening. But this
was more than that. My sinking heart made the leap a few seconds before my brain. ‘You didn't just come across a circle like this one,' I accused. ‘You were part of one.'

‘Started it, actually.' The admission was brittle, as if he was braced for my anger. ‘With a girl from the village, based on their old traditions. Probably like Shawn started his here.'

Why hadn't he told me this? After I told him I trusted him, and believed he wasn't like Shawn. Betrayal knifed through me, and I stabbed back with an accusation. ‘So the mine collapsed because of you.'

He flinched, but held my gaze. ‘We had the best intentions. Parts of Wales are – well, they're like parts of the American South. Very poor. The mines peter out, or no one needs what they produce any more, and towns simply die. We were just trying to bring some prosperity back to the region.'

‘Funny how alike our stories are,' said Shawn, so smugly I wanted to punch him in the nose.

‘Did you tell him?' I demanded of Rhys, surging to my feet, careful of Gigi still sleeping in the circle. ‘Did you warn Shawn what would happen if the council continued to throw things out of whack?'

‘Of course I did,' he snapped. ‘Why do you think I came here with my dad? When I came across an old article about the monolith at Bluestone Hill and read about the cycle of prosperity and disaster, I recognized the pattern. The first thing I did when I realized what Shawn was doing was warn him. And when he didn't care, I had to figure out what to do to stop him.'

‘And you, Sylvie,' said Shawn, standing opposite Rhys in the garden. ‘He knew how powerful you'd be. So did I. Look at what you just did. You're amazing.'

Well, that was true.

‘But the water is still rising,' I said, wondering now, too late, what healing Gigi had added to the unbalanced equation. I had no call to throw stones at Rhys, except that he'd told such a huge lie by omission.

Shawn continued what Shawn did best – sweet-talking me out of my scruples. ‘And when the river recedes, think of all the good you can do.' He stepped over the green border of the circle and reached for my hand. I looked at Rhys, but he didn't move. ‘You can heal this land and make it better than it was.'

Why didn't Rhys
say
anything? Why didn't he try and convince me to be on his side?

‘You could speed Clara's healing,' said Shawn. ‘The council is down in the summerhouse waiting. Whatever you say, goes.'

I could do this. There was that tempting pull again, but it didn't come from Shawn. It came from some place deep inside me. Some part of me that said I could control this where neither of them could. The circle went way back, and so did the cycle of prosperity and disaster. I could reverse the process; when disaster struck, speed the healing, like I'd done my leg.

‘Can Rhys join the circle?' I asked. Because if I was going to be part of some kind of ancient dynastic malefemale yin-yang tradition, it was
not
going to be with Shawn Maddox.

‘Sure thing,' said Shawn. Which confirmed he was
lying. That was way too easy. ‘Do you know what this means, Sylvie? You can fix your leg. Really fix it, not just make it feel better, the way you have here. You can dance again.'

His words reached into my heart like ten clawed, covetous fingers. I could dance again. I could have back the only thing I'd ever cared about. I could be whole.

Rhys still watched me in silence, but I saw the flicker in his eyes, the steeling of his own heart. He thought I was going to say yes. Well, I couldn't blame him. In that instant
I
thought I was going to say yes.

The water was still rising. We were running out of time for me to decide what I was going to be when I grew up. As usual, it was easier to know what I was
not
going to be more than what I was.