Chapter 58 Augustin
Gideon: I can’t believe you made an honest vampire of Komal! Congratulations to you both! And to Hannah for escaping brutal Upyr justice! We must celebrate!
WHEN WE RETURN TO ARGLETON, it’s barely recognisable.
Many roads are still cut off by floodwaters, landslides, or fallen trees.
Line teams work to fix downed power lines.
We see houses with roofs torn off; homes with cars, trampolines, or even a horse stuck on their roofs; and a street of townhouses toppled into each other like giant dominoes.
But slowly, life returns to a semblance of normal.
The floodwaters recede, and people are able to move back into their properties and assess the damage.
I nurse Komal through the early nights of being a vampire.
Dante brings her the best vintages around (I hope she doesn’t get used to it, as I can’t afford to keep us stocked with di Sangro).
We tell her family that she’s sick and will be living at Black Crag Castle for a while, which is believable since her tiny house was smashed by the floodwaters.
When she feels confident enough to walk among humans without biting anyone, she spends her evenings running around, helping her neighbours build a new fence or visiting her father in the hospital after he got another infection, and repainting walls at Preeti’s clinic.
Whatever fear she had of the dark has left her along with her mortality.
But her humanity, her generosity and compassion – the things I love most about her – they still shimmer bright and bold.
For my part, the Gorilla Gardener works overtime, skulking through the night-time shadows, repairing damage to people’s gardens, keeping the hospital and retirement village stocked with free bouquets, and making blooms burst from anywhere where someone looks like they need cheering up.
The floodwater has made the woods too dangerous to enter, so Hannah and I have also been living at Black Crag.
(Judging by the filthy looks Alaric gives me every time he enters a room and discovers me there, I believe Reginald kindly offered, and Alaric grudgingly went along with it.) We help out in Nevermore Bookshop during the evenings, which has become a makeshift community hub.
Komal makes sure everyone in the village gets what they need.
The Nevermore Coven helps out every night, too – Celeste arrives with fresh-baked goods to lift everyone’s spirits, and Beth makes calming tonics that actually seem to work.
She made Hannah a six-month supply of that elixir that curbs her hunger.
Even Dante draws from a seemingly inexhaustible supply of vintage blood to feed any vampire helping with recovery efforts.
Finally, we’re given the all-clear to return to our cottage to assess the damage.
Hannah skips down the path ahead of me as I yell warnings at her to be careful.
Debris litters the way, and five times we must stop to climb over fallen trees.
The forest I love has been transformed into a sodden graveyard, but then sometimes nature needs to be sloughed clean for it to burst with new life.
“I hope all my scarves are safe. I put them in my trunk. Do you think I’ll get in trouble if my library books get wet—” Hannah stops on the path in front of me, her back rigid.
“No,” she whispers.
No.
Ahead is our garden. Or where our garden should be.
It’s unrecognisable.
The paths have been swept away, replaced with deposits of debris and silt.
Two trees have fallen over the labyrinth, smashing it to pieces.
Our flower beds have been ripped out, the plants we nurtured dashed against the trees, which bend and twist as they fight to remain rooted to the soil that has nourished them for years.
Our house is a pile of rubble, a twisted lump of pulpy, sodden books, splinters of carved railings, and broken roofing tiles.
I built this place for Hannah to dream, so she can travel to imaginary lands when she has nowhere else to go. Now, it’s gone.
Tears flood down Hannah’s cheeks. I gather her into my arms. “We can plant anew. That’s the wonderful thing about nature. It can always be reborn.”
“I know.” She sniffs. “But it feels like someone has pulled my heart out at the roots.”
I know exactly what she means.
Behind her, the letterbox stands sentinel – the only remnant of our life here that has survived the storm. The red flag is up. We have mail.
I expect to fall into a pit of despair. Instead, hope clenches my heart like a closed fist.
I imagine a new cottage, built in the shadow of the old, but far surpassing it.
And at the back, in the centre of the garden, perhaps a helipad, and a garden of red flowers, and three seats by the window for enjoying an evening drink.
I imagine Komal there, and the little touches she would add to the space, and her bright personality and big smile filling the rooms with light. I imagine her helping Hannah with homework, or taking her to a friend’s house, or doing her hair for her first school dance.
I imagine the pair of us going to sleep together as the sun comes up, nestled in each other’s arms inside a coffin made for two.
Maybe we don’t need to live on Sanctus Estate to be safe. To have a bright and wonderful life.
Maybe what I needed all along was a little foolish, unhinged hope.