CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE #4
‘I have a gift for you,’ she said, blinking away the tears she had been so determined not to shed in his presence.
She began reciting ancient words. Words she had practiced so that she would not stumble when this moment came.
As she spoke, she placed a hand on his brow.
His skin was hot, damp, the temperature of a man unwell.
A man fighting a battle he could not win.
She steadied herself and continued, saying the words a little louder now, with as much confidence, as much commitment as she could muster.
And all the while he watched her face, listening, curious, calm, unafraid.
At last, the incantation complete, she addressed him in English again.
‘With these words, with this blessing, and with all my heart, I give you the gift of remembrance,’ she said.
For a few seconds he looked puzzled but then his expression began to change.
Now she watched him, as the spell took hold.
It revealed to him that memory, that knowledge of his first life with her, that had been hidden all this long time.
She saw on his face the wonder and the joy as he recalled their very first meeting, their first kiss, their first lovemaking.
She saw in his eyes that he experienced again their time together on the wild mountain.
Saw him remember their fresh young love and how it had never died.
He was too weak to answer, the light already dimming in his eyes.
Rhiannon leaned forwards and kissed him one more time, her tears falling onto his cheek even as his skin began to cool.
‘Safe journey, my brave knight. Until we meet again, as one day, I promise you, we will,’ she said. And she knew it to be true. She would find him again, however many years it took. But now, and for who knew how long to come, she must go on without him, alone.
London, 2019
It was only when Emily reached the door of the apartment that she remembered her key card was still in her bag, sitting on a lounger, by the pool.
‘Oh for God’s sake…!’ She closed her eyes and bit her lip, determined not to become a snivelling heap.
She would not give her father the satisfaction of seeing her behave like the little girl he had just accused her of being.
And she certainly did not want to be blubbing in front of Charlie.
She’d already been humiliated quite enough for one evening.
She was just deciding whether to wait for one of the others to appear with the key or go back down to the pool when she heard a low huffing.
Turning, she saw Taran come loping along the corridor towards her.
‘Hello boy,’ she said, smiling at the sight of the lovely hound.
She reached out and patted his broad, noble head, causing his tail to wag slowly but happily.
‘You are such a good boy,’ she told him.
‘Not like stupid humans at all. You’ve got more sense, haven’t you?
’ He leaned against her and she put her arms around him, hugging his warm furry body, not caring that the grey shaggy coat would most likely stick to her wet swimming costume.
She straightened up again, deciding to encourage him to go downstairs with her.
He would be a welcome distraction and help her save face.
But Taran had other ideas. He turned and bounded back along the corridor, heading for the stairs.
‘Hey, wait! Taran, come back.’ Emily called after him, but the dog sped away as if he were chasing something, or being called in the other direction.
‘Dammit,’ she muttered, pulling her towel tighter around her and trotting after him.
She caught up with him just in time to see him bounding up the stair case.
She followed, initially hoping to get him back to soften the embarrassment of having to face Charlie and her father again, but then curious to find out what had attracted his attention.
He continued on up past the next floor, lurching up the stairs that only led to the penthouse.
Emily had never been on any of the levels above the one where Charlie’s apartment was.
She noticed at once that there was a different atmosphere the further up the stairs she went.
Everything was quieter. Calmer, somehow less grand and open and shiny and more mysterious.
As she climbed the last of the stairs she felt her mood lifting.
Her crossness at her father, her upset at the argument in front of Charlie, both lessened, faded, and were soon gone completely.
She reached the top floor landing. There were no windows but the roof was a glass atrium that allowed soft, cool moonlight to illuminate the space.
She could see Taran sitting at the end of the long hallway, panting slightly, watching her, waiting for her.
As Emily stepped forwards, however, it was not the dog that held her attention; it was what she could see beyond him.
Tudor muttered darkly under his breath as he took the stairs two at a time, Emily’s bag clutched too tightly in one hand.
He told himself that he was justified in being angry with Emily.
He had clearly explained to her that it was dangerous for her to go out of the flat without him.
He had expressly told her to stay put and she had done the opposite.
She had deliberately ignored what he had wanted her to do for her own good.
He was certain he was in the right. Which made it all the more galling that he felt so bad.
He hated losing his temper with her. He could still see the hurt in her eyes when he had been mean to her.
And in front of Charlie. He might feel like a rubbish father at that moment, but he was a good enough one to know that he had just humiliated his daughter; belittled her in front of one of her peers.
She probably hated him at that moment, and that hurt him.
To make it worse, she had left her key card in her bag, so she wouldn’t be able to get in the flat.
How painful would it be for her to have to wait there, dripping, in her swimsuit, for him to come and let her in?
He would apologise. It didn’t matter that he was right, he couldn’t stand to have bad feeling between them.
She was safe and that was what was important.
He would say he was sorry and Charlie could stay over.
They’d have hot chocolate. Send out for ice cream, maybe.
Turn it into a funny story to tease each other with later on.
Except that when he reached the door to Charlie’s apartment, she wasn’t there. There was just a small pool of water on the floor, nothing else. His stomach tightened.
‘Emily?’ he called out, looking up and down the empty corridor. ‘Pumpkin, you there?’
There was no reply.
It was then he noticed that her wet footprints continued past the entrance to the flat.
He followed them, turning onto the staircase.
He checked the landing on the next floor but there were no prints.
She had to have gone up to the penthouse.
His increased heart rate had less to do with the sudden climb and more to do with the adrenalin that was coursing through his system.
It was quiet up there. Too quiet. Vivid, shocking images of the murders he had witnessed only a few floors below flashed in front of his mind’s eye.
He saw the old man Salinger, his body rent open.
He saw the mad violence in the old woman’s eyes as she flew at McAllen.
A vision of Mr and Mrs Richards, stopped by bullets fired at them by their own son, was gut twistingly real.
The lifeless stare of their teenage boy came back to haunt him.
He reached the top floor. When he saw Emily standing with the wolfhound at the far end of the corridor he exhaled long and hard, only then realising he had been holding his breath, steeling himself for what he might find.
She turned and saw him and he waited for the rebuke, for the continuation of their argument, but her demeanour had changed completely. He saw at once, in the way that her expression had changed, that something more important had happened. Her eyes were wide with wonder.
‘Dad!’ she called to him in a stage whisper, beckoning him urgently. ‘Come and look at this!’
He hurried to her, glancing at the dog as it wagged its tail in greeting.
There was something about the hound he had not noticed before.
It struck him then that the dog was familiar to him.
Not from here at the Aurora, but somewhere else.
Somewhere open and wild. He shook off the thought.
His heightened anxiety was making him think weird things, that was all.
‘Look, Dad,’ Emily said when he reached her. She was standing where the corridor ended, directly in front of the door to the penthouse.
And what a door it was.