Tomorrows Child (21 page)

Pepper was
missing!

“I know… I
know, ‘if you love something set it free, if it comes back it’s
yours, if it doesn’t it was never meant to be’,” I was quoting
Libby, “but I should check on him. You know he always comes home
for dinner.” Pepper was usually hanging about most of the time,
looking for food. He spent all day scavenging and still expected
something from us. Fortunately, he ate almost everything.

This was the
first time since I found him that day that he’d missed a meal. I
looked in all his usual haunts and called his name. Nothing. I
stood at the edge of the forest. I knew better than go into the
forest to look for him but I also remembered that when I found him
he was near death, covered in burns, probably from another bigger
fire-breathing dragon. The tall rainforest trees that guarded the
forest now cast long dark shadows across our lawn but allowed the
western sun to filter through, creating patches of light. Perhaps
just a little way…

I entered that
forest. “Pepper! Pepper!” I could hear a noise in the bushes.
Pepper never came this far. I walked a little further; at least I
was on the path that led to the creek so there was no chance I
would get lost. The path led past the pump and over the small
footbridge, but I’d never wandered in this direction before.

I crossed the
food bridge and out of nowhere stood a tall dark-haired woman.

“Hello,
Psyche.”

The cold stone
floor chilled through my body and bored into my bones. My flesh
trembled and my heart quivered. At least, shivering was the
physical response of a body intent on creating warmth - it meant I
was alive. How many days now? I didn’t know. It was dark; it was
always dark. I didn’t know when the nights ended and days began as
no light entered the small stone room where I was being held
prisoner. The acrid smell of sulphur permeated the air and burnt my
lungs while the putrid smell of filth and death filled me with
nausea. I would vomit if there had been food in my stomach. But it
had been so long since I’d eaten, even the rumblings had ceased In
their place was the hard, twisted knot of starvation. Even water
had been rationed as if there was a finite supply. Still, I had
grown grateful for the small offering provided by my captor.

The sensory
deprivation was only limited to my sight, and in the dense
blackness, my other senses had grown acute. I could hear the sounds
of life just metres away. But the sounds of life didn’t extend to
talking and laughter, just the sounds of footfall on hard stone
floors. Occasionally, I heard a door slam or some other nondescript
sound. If I focused, I could hear more distant sounds beyond the
stone walls like the constant whistle of winter winds and the
rustle of dry leaves. Owls hooted in the foreground and a stream
trickled away in the distance, rolling constantly over stones and
pebbles. At times, I heard the pebbles move and the sand shift with
a crunch, perhaps an animal drinking at dusk. But it was the curlew
song of death that haunted me the most.

A noise much
closer bought me to the present, back to the room, to the cold
stone floor and the absence of light. The sounds were familiar now:
a key grinding against the fingers of a lock, a latch clicking open
and hinges screeching against the rust. I blinked, checking if my
eyes were open or closed, and turned toward the sound. The darkness
was disorientating and without the sound, I would not have known
the direction of the door. A sliver of golden light cut through the
darkness and a young girl entered. In that brief moment, I only
caught a glimpse of the girl.

The door closed
and the familiar blackness returned. I welcomed the darkness and
cursed the blade of light that stabbed my eyes. She dragged
something, large and heavy, and dropped it near me with a whoosh of
stale air and a dull thud.

“Here, take
it,” she said. Her voice was sweet and young, not the voice of the
captor I had imagined. I said nothing. My body was pushed into the
corner, my spine grated against the hard wall.

“It’s water.”
She reached out and took my hand, placing it on the cup. The water
was warm and bitter. I drank it eagerly, my knotted stomach
wrenching. But it kept me alive and I endured the pain, knowing
that the shadow between life and death had been extended a little
longer.

The girl was
quiet, I could feel her warmth and hear her heart beat and the in
and out of her breath. But apart from that, she sat motionless. Why
was she here? It seemed a strange act for a prisoner to be provided
with a companion. In lucid moments, I tried to understand, to find
some justification for my situation. I could find none.

My last memory
was of Phoenix, lazing against his warm chest and losing my
thoughts in the flickering flames. But that wasn’t it, that wasn’t
what brought me here - that was a dream. Even when we weren’t
together, my dreams connected us. We had learnt how to communicate
in the dream world as if it were an extension of our normal life.
But I hadn’t dreamt, not since… when? I woke in the darkness and
could recall no dreams. Drifting in and out of consciousness didn’t
help and I hadn’t been able to find my dreams or Phoenix.

“It won’t be
much longer. She said you’ll be ready soon. That’s why I’m here, so
you understand. So that you make the choice before you die. You
can’t die… I’ll get the blame… and then… well you’re not going to
die so I’m just not talking about it.”

What was she
talking about? I could ask her, but would she answer? Would there
be any truth in her reply? But I remained quiet. The shivering had
stilled a little; perhaps because I was focusing on the girl’s
warmth and the image of a warm fire still filled my head. Both
provided a solace I had been unable to find in previous days.

“If you talk to
me, I will get you food. I’ll tell her you’re friendly and not at
all mean. I’ll tell her if you’re mean. If you don’t talk to me,
she will know and I can’t lie to her… she would know. Talk to me,
Psyche.”

If talking were
all I needed to do, then I would talk, but I doubted it would be
that simple. “You know my name?” My voice was hard and raspy and
unfamiliar, no louder than a whisper.

“Yes, I know
lots; I know you’re special. We’ve been waiting for you for a long
time. You’re going to like it here.”

“Like what?…
Living in complete darkness? Slowly starving to death? I don’t
think so.” I could talk, but I didn’t have to be pleasant.

“Oh, it won’t
always be like this; this is just to help you decide. Once you
choose to live, you can come out.”

“I already
decided to live… before you locked me away.” This crazy girl
couldn’t be responsible; she was far too simple.

“It isn’t me
who took you. She said it’s for your own good. She said you’re in
danger. Volante said you need us.”

I’d heard that
name before, but I couldn’t extricate the memory from the recesses
of my mind. I was still dazed, though I was feeling less confused
than an hour ago.

“You stole
me?”

“Not me.
Volante, and she didn’t steal you - she rescued you!”

“So it’s just
me? There’s no one else here?”

“No, just you,
but it was night; you were here when I woke up in the morning.”

“Tell me what
you know, I need to know everything.”

“I don’t know
about everything. But I can tell you about you. Volante said you
were lost and in danger. She said you needed her, and she needed
you. She said you are special. She put you in here to keep you safe
and told me to give you water and the special black powders. She
said a little powder would keep you well so you wouldn’t die. I
knew it would help. I take the powders when I’m allowed and they
help me.”

Powders? Drugs
maybe, at least this explained the dazed and confused feeling as
well as the absence of dreams.

“How long have
I been here?”

She shrugged,
“A week, maybe a week. It’s hard to remember the days now. But it’s
long enough to make the right choice. If you told me now, I could
let you out.”

A week, a whole
week… Surely if Phoenix were alive, he would have tried to rescue
me, or Libby would have tried... She must know where I am! She
always knows… unless… they are both dead or there’s magick
involved. I should have realised before, I’m not skilled enough to
deal with this myself. Volante could be using any type of magick -
magick I don’t even know about.

“Tell me
everything. Tell me about your life here and what I’m deciding.
Tell me what I should do. Tell me why you think I’m special.” My
only chance might be to let them think I agreed to whatever it was
they wanted, and then escape.

“She said you
would come round, Psyche. I’m so happy and you can be like my
sister. Special, like me. The others, they come and go… They’re not
special, not at all.”

“Please,” I had
to focus, “Is Volante a witch?” I knew that she probably didn’t
call herself a witch. Libby didn’t either, but it’s what she
was.

“Sorry, um, not
a witch… Do you mean like flying and broomsticks and stuff? Psyche,
you are funny.”

“What about
spells, does she do spells? Has she given you anything special? To
keep you safe? Something like that?”

“You mean like
this?” she said, fingering the small charm she wore around her
neck. “It says Caitlyn; that’s my name.” The charm was engraved
with a symbol that I hadn’t seen before. But this could mean she
practiced some type of magick.

“Yes, exactly
like that. Is there anything else she does? Special things,
something you’ve never seen anyone else do?”

“Maybe, but she
isn’t like anyone I’ve ever met. She saved me. In the bad days, I
lived with my mum and my baby brother. Mum left us and went to find
food, but she never came home. We waited and waited for days. We
had water, lots of water, but no food. Pete died first… We were
hungry and he cried and cried. He wouldn’t stop. I couldn’t stand
it. I wanted to run away like Mum had. But when he was quiet, I
knew he was dead. I left him then. I knew I had to find others, to
find someone alive. I’m only seven, you know. I need someone to
look after me. Volante found me. She brought me here, and now I’m
like her daughter.” I could understand how alone and confused this
child must have been. No wonder she idolised Volante.

“Volante is
special too, more special than me or even you. She told me she is
the most special person alive. All the others like her have died…
or she thinks they have died. She called them, but they never came.
That’s why she needs us… she’s special. She needs special
things.”

The girl stood,
reached up and opened a window. The light filtered through and left
shadows on the far wall from the bars over the opening. It really
was a prison. She held out her arms and showed me a series of
scars, some fresh and raw, while others were older and newly
scabbed over. The cuts were small, just nicks really, but it looked
as if she had tried to cut herself, but changed her mind a hundred
times. One of the freshest scars was ensconced in a deep rosy pink
bruise. The sight turned my stomach. What was she showing me?

“This is how I
help her… Volante needs my life force, my blood.”

“She drinks
your blood? Like a vampire? Caitlyn, that’s wrong.”

“No, not like a
vampire, she doesn’t have sharp pointy teeth or anything. She’s not
evil, she’s special. She needs special medicine that’s only found
in blood. It’s the life force. She said before everything got
messed up, she had lots of friends who could help or she could go
to the hospital, but now she needs special people, like me, so she
doesn’t get sick.”

“So this is
what she wants from me? My blood?”

“Sure,
sometimes, but she said you’re really special, and she can get the
life force from just touching you, without your blood. You’re
really special and she won’t need so much blood now that you’re
here.”

“What if I say
no?” Caitlyn looked at me with alarm, as if I had just broken a
sacred vow.

“You can’t say
no, or you will die. You have to choose to live, Psyche. I don’t
want to be alone anymore. The others said no and they all got sick
and weak. Some even died. She didn’t kill them, you know. They just
chose not to live. It was their choice.”

My God, I was
being held captive by a modern day vampire. I had read about this,
sanguine vampires who drank blood and psychic vampires who drained
a person’s spiritual energy. Both contained the life force Caitlyn
spoke of. I thought it was a myth, but I had not read about a
vampire who fed on human blood and spiritual energy. It was
repulsive in the extreme, and what made it worse was that she had
convinced this poor child it was normal. This child believed it was
essential to life.

“Do you drink
blood, Caitlyn?” Perhaps I could explain, convince her that it was
not normal, that a vampire didn’t need fangs to be evil.

“Not often.
Sometimes when Volante has taken too much, or needs more than she
normally does. Then she gets me to drink some, just to keep my
strength up. I don’t need it like she does. She says if I get real
tired, the best thing is a little life force. I feel better right
away.”

Volante was
training this child as an apprentice and it was unlikely that I
could convince this girl to leave, to escape with me. Escape was my
only option. I had been here too long to expect rescue, relying on
Phoenix, and I feared the worse. A woman capable of draining the
blood of a child was capable of anything.

I didn’t know
all the differences between the Hollywood-style vampire and a real
vampire. The one holding me captive could have been capable of
anything. If the bloodlust so vividly displayed on film was real,
Phoenix may very well be… even Libby… It was unbearable to think of
their demises this way. But I had to assume that I was now
alone.