Tomorrows Child (14 page)

I headed for
the old road and found Raven sitting in the former bus shelter. I
considered ignoring her, but in reality, she was the only one who
had not yet betrayed me. She hadn’t actually ever spoken to me, so
I figured that was a good start.

“Hey, Raven,
how are you?”

“What do you
want?” She spat.

“Nothing. I am
having a bad day actually and …” I didn’t get a chance to
finish.

“Be careful the
boogie monster doesn’t get you,” Raven snickered.

“What’s that
supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. You
think you’re so special… Everyone’s worried about poor Psyche. You
snap your fingers and Phoenix runs. You sneeze and Navarre jumps,
poor Psyche, poor friggin’ Psyche. Psyche’s so special, Psyche’s
this and Psyche’s that, Psyche, Psyche, Psyche…”

“I’m sorry… I
didn’t realise…” Holy crap, where did this come from? I had never
been despised before, but the venom she spewed out made it obvious,
Raven detested me.

“Didn’t realise
what? That you’re a spoiled brat and take everyone’s attention? You
know you do… The world doesn’t revolve around you, you know, and
you can’t make it.”

“I didn’t
realise you felt like this. You hardly know me.”

“I know more
than you think… more than everyone thinks…” She was still spitting
out her words and I recoiled as she spoke, “Phoenix gets privileges
because he’s so ‘special’, Navarre’s the big hunter and Jalani…
well she’s their little princess… As if I didn’t have enough
trouble before you came. She told me you’d be…”

Raven’s eyes
squinted and her jaw jutted. I now understood the phrase “if looks
could kill.” For a minute, I thought she might vomit in my lap, but
she didn’t. With one final scowl, she stormed off.

“Whatever
Raven! You can think whatever you like,” I yelled to the image of
her back, departing through the rainforest. This was all screwed
up. Raven’s malice had stolen my anger. Anger I deserved to own,
even if it were only for an hour or two. Now there was nothing left
except shock. There was no warning for Raven’s outburst and her
hatred toward me was beyond reason. I thought I was messed up, but
Raven was bordering on psychotic.

When I arrived
back at the house, Libby and Phoenix were sitting at the table,
watching the door. Phoenix stood up in such a hurry that the old
wooden chair fell to the floor.

“Raven just
abused me. She’s crazier than the rest of you. Psychotic even,” I
remarked.

“Why? What did
you do?” they asked in unison. Why would they assume I had provoked
this?

“What did I do?
I sat beside her in that stupid shelter where she hangs out. She
said I was a spoilt brat and that I thought I was something
special. She said everyone runs to help me all the time. I had no
idea… She just lost it.”

“And you? Have
you calmed down?” Libby ignored everything I’d just said. I had
hoped my ranting would change the subject, but it never did.

“No. Yes.
Maybe, but you’re not getting off without a really good
explanation, neither of you.” I tried to give them a frosty glare
to let them know I was serious, but it just made them smile. My
anger really had evaporated and I couldn’t channel anger that no
longer existed.

“Psyche, I’m
sorry, but I can’t keep apologising to you. It’s time you grew up.
I can only do so much. If you want no part of this, then so be it.
We’ll have to do the best we can without you.” Libby said as though
she had finally given up.

“All you have
to do is be honest with me. I don’t know anything about anything.”
Raven’s explosion proved that. “All this focus is on me and what I
am going to do. I think you expect too much.” I protested. I really
didn’t know what they expected. “You and Phoenix look at me like… I
don’t even know. You have to tell me what is going on. You have to
tell me the truth. And why does it matter anyway?”

“I’ve been
trying, but there have been so many distractions and there’s so
much to learn. You’re nowhere near ready and I fear that time has
run out,” Libby replied.

More riddles, I
forced back a scream. “I’m hungry. I’ll make lunch. You two figure
out how to bring me up to speed, today.”

I tossed more
logs into the wood stove and filled the kettle. “Also, you need to
know I’m not Superwoman. There are no superpowers and no magick, I
am what I am and that’s all.”

I left them and
went to check the little lizard in the box. He was sleeping, but
had moved around. His bedding was shifted and he had disturbed the
small water dish. I used the dropper to dose him with water and
found he was much better than I anticipated. Perhaps I was no
murderer after all. The ointment Libby made was sitting beside the
box in a small jar and I applied it to the wounds on his side.

I carried the
box to the table and took the lizard out of the box. I expected it
to scuttle away and prepared myself for a dash to save it again
before it fell to the floor. Instead, it glanced around the room
and sniffed at the table, then wandered over to smell Phoenix’s
hands and then to Libby’s. It behaved more like a puppy than a wild
animal. Then, still in puppy mode, the creature romped back across
the table to me. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear he wagged his
tail.

“He looks to be
recovering well,” I commented. The tension in the room had
dissolved into sheer amazement as we watched him explore the
terrain. Puppies do that, I thought, soften your heart and break
down barriers, except this was a reptile.

“You two can
watch it while I finish getting lunch.” I returned to the stove and
made tea. Fresh bread was sitting beside the hob and an assortment
of salad ingredients suddenly materialised on the bench. Thoughts
of ham and tuna flicked across my mind, but these weren’t options
anymore. I tried not to reflect on what we didn’t have. But the
idea of ham made my mouth water and this only made the craving
stronger. I pushed it out of my mind and carried the food to the
table.

“What do you
think it eats?” I shoved a piece of lettuce in his face and watched
it crunch the fresh leaf. “Obviously lettuce,” I mused as I placed
him on the floor.

“And bugs.”
Phoenix pointed as a small green bug was snatched from the floor
and hastily devoured.

This morning,
the lizard’s skin was pale and dry. Now, it glistened with rainbow
iridescence. In the sunlight, he appeared to be covered in
shimmering rainbow scales. Every so often, the flash that caught my
eye in the forest sparkled around the room, but only long enough to
make you think you were seeing things.

The reptile had
all our attention when he began to cough. Small dry coughs. I
thought he was choking on the bug. Suddenly and very unexpectedly,
the creature coughed again… and out streamed a wisp of smoke. He
coughed again… another larger puff of smoke. There was no mistake…
this creature was…

“A dragon?”
chimed all three of us, shaking our heads with scepticism and
astonishment. The creature coughed out one last enormous cloud of
thick, white smoke.

“This can’t
be!”

“How is this
possible?”

“You must be
kidding! This is a joke.” We all spluttered words of disbelief,
unable to grasp what riveted all of our eyes.

“There’s no
doubt now, the veil has truly failed,” said Libby. “This means our
time is far shorter than we ever expected.”

Phoenix just
shook his head and looked confused.

“Pepper,” I
said.

“What?”

“Pepper, we
should call him Pepper. You know like hot, but not fiery. If he
starts shooting out flames, I can change his name… to Chilli.” I
was quite pleased with myself but the humour didn’t seem to be
received as well as I expected.

“You can’t keep
him. He’s a baby and probably just practising.”

“We don’t know
that it’s a baby. Maybe he’s deformed and that’s as good as it’s
going to get.” I felt sorry for the little deformed dragon. “That’s
probably how he got injured in the forest. Some big, mean,
fire-breathing dragon attacked him, and those injuries are probably
burns.”

Nobody spoke
and I processed the words that had tumbled, thoughtlessly from my
mouth.

“Holy crap,
there’s another one!” Send in Merlin! I’d be happier to meet a
weird, elderly wizard than take part in a battle with
fire-breathing dragons.

I saw a flash
of fear in Libby’s eyes, while Phoenix just looked bewildered. Each
day something new presented itself that made me think the world had
gone mad. Now, sitting on the floor at my feet was proof that
things were very wrong. Everything had changed, but in more ways
than the obvious. There were no supermarkets, no schools and no
ham, but we did have dragons.

Sleep is a gift
to those who suffer. For me, sleep had been my best friend for
these past few months and an escape from the grief and dread of
facing another day. It wasn’t grief I faced today, it was something
different. But I wished that sleep would return and help me to
escape the inevitable suffering this day was sure to bring.

Inevitable,
because I’d asked for it and I knew that both Libby and Phoenix
would be more than happy to deliver. The problem was I’d had so
much sleep lately that my body didn’t need any more. The harder I
tried to sleep, the more difficult it became. I was awake now, in
the very early hours of the morning, well before dawn, pleading for
sleep to return. Begging for sleep was stupid, not a real solution
anyway, but the best I could come up with other than running
away.

Change was what
I faced today, but change was unpredictable and its results
erratic. My deepest wish was to avoid change and the suffering it
was bound to bring. When I agreed to learn magick, I didn’t
consider the changes to my life or the decisions I would be forced
to make. Nevertheless, today I had to choose to accept the magick
and embrace it, or move on. Libby thought I would choose to move on
and leave the magick behind.

The truth
always carries with it responsibilities; and while I hate anything
coated in lies, I wondered if I was really ready for the truth.
Even though I needed to know how I fitted into the prophecy, I was
beginning to fear what it meant to me.

Phoenix and
Libby had a plan, which should have satisfied me and convinced me
to participate in the family’s legacy. They knew that I hated
surprises, or at least ones that involved me, and I didn’t know why
I was so angry or behaving so erratically when it came to magick
and me. Each time I stormed off, I was just as surprised as those I
left behind, although they seemed to be getting used to it.

Pepper was
allowed to stay in the house, at least until he started breathing
fire. I didn’t think that would ever happen, but Libby wasn’t so
certain, so we made a deal. At the first breath of fire, Phoenix
would take him to a safe place near Misty Falls. I agreed in
principle.

Pepper was an
early riser too and had already overturned everything on the floor
in my room, looking for bugs and other potential sources of food. I
dressed quickly and carried him out into the yard before he caused
any permanent destruction. I watched him shuffle under the leafy
mulch and dig little holes with his nose. Pepper ate everything
that was offered to him. So far, he had eaten chunks of fruit and
vegetables and was constantly searching for and eating bugs. He was
recovering well.

“I told you he
was a baby. Only babies need to consume as much food as they can
while they’re awake,” Libby said as she stood in the doorway, “and
as long as there’s no flames, I’m happy to have the little fella
here.”

“Do you think
dragons are born with fire breath or do get it as they mature?” I
thought they might have it from birth, like a snake has venom, but
dragons were a new discovery to all of us and there was no way for
any of us to know.

“I have no
idea, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.” Libby left us so
Pepper could finish his buggy breakfast. Thankfully, there would be
no insects on my menu because Libby had soaked the pot of porridge
overnight, like she always did. When the weather turned, as it had
already, she put the oats and water in a large pot on the back of
the slow combustion stove. By morning, the cast iron pot was full
of steamy, hot porridge.

Milk and honey,
essential additions to porridge, were just two of the perks of
living in an organised community. Lachlan and Basil had a dozen
beehives and kept the honey flowing, while Trinity and Seth tended
the dairy cows, and delivered milk each morning. Normally, one of
the children delivered the milk, but this morning it was Trinity.
Her cart bounced along the path and the cream cans clanged and
rattled over the bumpy path.

“Hi, Trinity.
Did Seth and the kids ditch you and make you do all the work
today?” I asked when I spotted her. Trinity smelt like a dairy so I
knew she’d milked the cows before delivering the milk.

“They’re all
sick. Damned storm blew the flu up the mountain. Even Seth is
sick,” Trinity answered. She pulled the cart up to the doorway and
manhandled one of the four cream cans. “You can have extra milk
today. I’m done making butter and cheese and treating sick kids,”
she said. The wooden cart had huge rubber wheels and a long pull
handle, identical to the sort little boys tow around, only much
bigger. Leaving us with an entire cream can would lighten her load,
but create extra work for us.

“Do you need a
hand? I’ll ask Libby if she can spare me for a few hours.” Libby
stood in the door shaking her head.

“Sorry, Psyche.
You can’t wriggle out of your own responsibilities that
easily.”

“It’s not that,
I just thought I should offer to help. I don’t really contribute
and this would be a good opportunity to learn something new.” It
was actually part of my avoidance tactics, but I wasn’t about to
admit that to Libby.