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Matty stared at Rob. “That’s...unexpected,” he finally managed to say. He swallowed. “Um. Is it difficult?” The tiny flame sat in the centre of Rob’s calloused palm, flickering gently. It didn’t give off a great deal of light, about the same as a candle might if set against the background light of the fire. He leaned forward in his chair and reached out a hand hesitantly before glancing at Rob and asking, “May I?”
“Of course,” Rob said. Rob was watching him rather than the flame. “It’s not hot,” he said softly.
Matty cautiously moved his finger closer, biting his lip. He wasn’t scared exactly, but only a fool would be blasé. The flame wavered as he approached and then, as he touched it, it jumped like a candle in a draft and morphed around his fingertip, still on Rob’s palm, but stretching out to meet him. It was cool and a little ticklish. Where he touched it, the colour changed from rose-pink to a sort of pinkish orange. He drew back and the flame followed an inch or so, before reforming in Rob’s palm. Matty put his finger out again and circled it. When he was close enough, it followed the motion of his hand.
He looked up at Rob. “It tickles. What does it feel like to you?”
“Cool. Fluttering. Like a moth.” Rob looked at his palm and then back up at Matty. “It doesn’t upset you? That I’ve been practising without telling you?” He looked almost agonised.
“Not at all. Well. Perhaps. I’d have liked to have helped. But not really.” He poked at the flame again, curiously. “Do you notice how it reacts when I touch it? Does it make you tired, doing it? What does it feel like to call it up?” He stood and shoved aside the table to kneel at Rob’s feet on the thick fireside rug.
Rob curled his hand shut to extinguish the light and then opened it again. He breathed in steadily and then breathed out. Nothing as strong as blowing, simply a calm soft breath. The light sprang up after a few seconds. This time it was green.
“How did you do that?” Matty asked, poking it with his finger again.
“I thought about it. When I don’t think about the colour, it makes that pink flame. If I want a different colour, I have to think at it. Not quite picture it.” He pulled at his ear awkwardly. “That’s not a very good explanation. I haven’t got the words really.”
Matty held his hand palm down over the flame. It was still free from heat. It flickered a little and drew upward as if it was reaching for him. He looked up at Rob. “What else have you tried? I know you, Rob.” He smiled. “This isn’t the only thing you’ve had a go at, is it?”
Rob blushed. “Erm. No. Not exactly.” He shifted uncomfortably on the dark red leather of the armchair. “I wanted to try and open the gate. The one Lin went through.” Matty flinched, drawing back, and Rob said hastily, “No, no, don’t worry, I didn’t do anything dangerous!” The flame in his palm flickered and extinguished as he grasped Matty’s hand in his. It was warm and reassuring. “It seems an extremely unwise thing to do without knowing more.”
Matty exhaled with relief. The gate had scared him. As had Lin, a little, if he was honest. What had scared him most was Arthur, though. Arthur had died because he had opened a gate in what Lin had called the shimmer. Matty remembered hearing the weight of it as he had spoken of it. The books here called it a border. It was clearly the same thing. If Rob opened the gate again, who knew what would happen? Matty was already poorly. He didn’t want the same to happen to Rob.
Rob continued, “I wanted to see if I could follow Lin. Through the gate. To find out what’s making you sick.”
He said it as if it was nothing at all. A throwaway comment about popping down to the village to go to the post office.
Matty stared at him. “What?”
“Through the gate. I want to find Lin and see if he can help us. Help you.” Rob’s voice was no different from usual. A quiet, steady rumble as if he was suggesting something ordinary and safe. Not something supernatural and therefore incredibly dangerous.
“Through the gate?” Matty said, intelligently.
“Yes. It seems like it would be the best way to find out what’s been happening. We haven’t really got anywhere with Arthur’s research.” He gestured to the piles of books crowding the room around them. “This though... I’ve learned this.”
Matty drew a steadying breath. “What else have you taught yourself? Do you think Arthur could do this?” The two questions came one after the other, spoken as soon as he thought them.
“Only one or two tricks. I can light a candle and put it out. And for some reason, the animals seem to come to me when I’m concentrating on doing things. That cross old tomcat that lives up in the barn has turned into my best friend since I started practising out there.”
Matty thought. “Is that why the dogs were frantic the other night?”
The two farm collies were usually fairly stand-offish. As young dogs they had been welded to his father’s side and once he’d died their loyalty had transferred to Arthur, but never in quite the same way. In the last few weeks they had started looking to Rob as they had looked to Dad. Matty had thought it was a natural transfer of affections now Arthur was gone, but perhaps there was more to it. He’d noticed them asking to go out a few evenings ago—they were only allowed into the house as far as the kitchen and much preferred to be out in the yard unless the weather was very bad—and when he’d demurred, they were absolutely insistent. They’d gone off silently but swiftly and half an hour later had accompanied Rob back inside with a great show of nonchalance.
A show of nonchalance that had almost equalled Rob’s, thinking about it.
He looked at Rob closely. Rob’s expression was sheepish. “What were you doing?” Matty asked. He used his firmest voice.
Rob looked down, his mouth twisting a little, ruefully. “I may have tried to make the gate appear.” He hastily added, “Not to go through! Only to see if it was there!”
They had still been holding hands, absently, Matty still kneeling at his feet. Matty dropped Rob’s warm, enfolding palm, stood, and crossed his arms, glaring down at him. “You just said you hadn’t done anything dangerous!” Rob didn’t lie. It was one of the things that Matty knew for certain about him.
Rob shot to his feet in turn and shoved his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched defensively. “It wasn’t dangerous! Really!” He walked over to the window, pacing uncomfortably, his hands in his pockets as he looked out through the uncovered panes to the dark night. “Sorry,” he muttered, “I did try and make it appear.” Matty waited. “I wanted to keep it from you, to keep you safe. I’m sorry, Matt.” He turned back to face Matty. “I’d do almost anything to keep you safe.” His mouth twisted a little with something like sadness or desperation around the words and Matty’s heart twisted too, despite his anger. “If I can do this, and it’s something that will make you safe, then I’ll do it.” He stepped a step toward Matty, shoulders still hunched, hands still in his pockets, looking at the floor. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I won’t do that again.”
Matty stepped closer across the threadbare Axminster carpet to meet him halfway. It was the least he could do. “Rob,” he said softly. “Look at me?”
Rob met his eyes. They were as anguished in expression as his twisted mouth. Matty put his hands on his shoulders. “I’m not a fragile flower, love,” he said. “And I’m not a stupid man.” He squeezed through the soft wool of Rob’s jumper. “I thought we were a team?” he said. “I want to be a team. I know you want to protect me. I want to protect you.” He tightened and released his hands again, rubbing the curve of Rob’s biceps.
“I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you, now,” Rob said, “I was ready for it in France. I knew there was a chance you might go west.” He breathed out a harsh breath. “I’ve kind of got used to being back now and to us having a future after all. I don’t want to lose you to this.” He looked down, and then up again to meet Matty’s eyes. He shut his eyes and Matty tightened his grip.
“No secrets though,” Matty said. “If Arthur hadn’t kept this a secret, he might still be alive. I don’t want to lose you, either.” He bit his lip and then smiled. “I’ve become used to having you about, you know.”
Rob met his smile with one of his own. “Well. I suppose I’m handy with the cattle.” He scuffed the toe of his slipper on the carpet.
“Yes. That’s why. And the dogs like you. Goodness knows why, when you drag them off to magical doings in the barn.” He stepped forward, closing the space between them and wrapping his arms around his lover. “Please, Rob. Don’t keep secrets from me. Don’t get yourself killed.” He buried his face in the gap above Rob’s collar, under his ear, where his neck was warm and smooth where he’d shaved earlier in the evening. Rob buried his face in the same place on Matty. They both smelled of Pears shaving soap. It satisfied something deeply primal in Matty that they shared a scent. In a slightly muffled voice, Matty added “You’re too important to lose to this. To lose at all.”
It was Rob’s turn to push Matty back to arm’s length. “You are too, Matty. You are too. It’s tearing me up. Do you know you’ve started talking in your sleep?”
He didn’t. He knew he’d been having dreams, though. He couldn’t remember anything about them when he woke, merely a cloying sense of being trapped in something sticky, enveloped in mud or fog that sucked at him hungrily. He had been struggling with it for the last few weeks and often woke with the old soft sheets and blankets tangled round his legs in a sweaty mess. He thought he might have been dreaming about the trenches. “What do I say?” he asked.
Rob tugged him toward the wide red sofa and settled them both down on it, Rob lying on his back and Matty on his chest. They sometimes lay like this in front of the fire, drowsing in the dim light of an evening. It was comforting. Matty needed comfort.
“It’s difficult to make out what you’re saying,” Rob said, once they were settled in their usual position. “Move your elbow. It’s under my ribs.” They shuffled themselves around. “That’s better.” He continued, “Sometimes you call for Arthur. Sometimes for me.” He was breathing hard. “You call out that you’re stuck and for us not to leave you.” His arms tightened and relaxed again. “I won’t leave you, Matty. I’m not leaving you.”
He sounded as distressed as Matty felt when the nightmares woke him. Matty strove to change to subject. “Tell me about the shimmer,” he asked. “Did you make the gate appear? What happened?”
“I could show you?” Rob said. “I’ve made it appear it a couple of times, out behind the byre where it started with Lin. And then a couple of times in the barn.” He paused again. “I know it frightens you. It frightened me to start with, but there doesn’t seem to be much to that part of it. Making it show up doesn’t seem to be that difficult or need much energy drawn toward me to do it. I swear, I haven’t tried to go through it.” Matty flinched and Rob’s surrounding arms tightened again. He nuzzled Matty’s hair, where his head was tucked up under his chin. “Honestly, Matty...” Another pause. “I could show you in here, if you like. There isn’t much to it.”
Matty sat up, slowly, pushing himself off Rob’s chest until he could get his legs under him. He perched astride Rob’s thighs, looking down at him. Rob looked nervous. “Please believe me, Matty. Nothing happened. It was safe.” Rob sat up himself, steadying himself with hands on Matty’s hips and then sliding his arms up around Matty’s back and drawing him close. Matty slid his arms round Rob too and Rob continued, “I feel like we’re stuck now. We know a lot more from the books, I suppose, now we’ve managed to read through most of them. But it’s not taking us any further forward practically. There’s a chance that opening the gate might, and I want to do it.” His jumper was soft and worn under Matty’s cheek and his voice was as soft and enveloping despite the enormity of what he was saying.
They held each other for a moment more. Rob was steady, Matty reminded himself. He had always been steady. He didn’t rush into things without thinking them through.
“Show me, then,” Matty said, finally, drawing back and looking at him.
Rob wriggled his legs. “Let me sit up. I can’t concentrate properly with you sat on my cock.”
“I’m not sitting on your cock.” Matty ground his hips down and round, in passing. “Oh. Perhaps I am.” He grinned as he swung his leg over and stood to allow Rob to put his feet on the ground and sit in a more upright posture.
“How do we do it?” He wasn’t sure at all about it, but Rob made good points. They knew a little more now, from the books. None of it was any good if they couldn’t use it. And he really didn’t want to end up like Arthur.
“Sit down here,” Rob patted the sofa. “I need to be still and concentrate. I sort of tug at the world, in my head... Tug at the air? It’s really hard to describe. It’s like gathering threads or ribbons in my hands. Then I wait a moment for the energy to gather and pool. Then I can send it where I want.” He looked at Matty. “It almost feels like wind. But not.” He shook his head. “It sounds stupid, when I try and put it into words.”
Matty put a hand on his arm reassuringly. “It doesn’t at all. It just sounds like something you don’t have the vocabulary for. It does make sense. To me, anyway.” He squeezed Rob’s arm before letting go again, withdrawing his hand and making a vague gesture. “Go on then. Show me?”
Rob nodded. “I don’t know if I can talk whilst I do it. You stay there, then I know where you are. I can sort of feel you, once I start drawing the energy to me. I’m fairly certain I could suck energy from you if I wanted... I don’t think that would be a good thing, somehow, what with all that’s going on.”
Matty nodded in agreement and drew his knees up onto the sofa and curled back against the armrest on the opposite end from Rob. “Can I talk to you?”
“I think it’s better if it’s quiet. So, I can concentrate. The cat jumped on my lap in the middle the second time I tried and scared me half to death.”
Matty nodded again. “I’m ready, then.”
Rob nodded back at him. “Right.” He closed his eyes and leaned forward, elbows on his thighs. He took a few deep breaths, in through his nose and out through his mouth. Soft but deep, filling his lungs.
Matty watched him. There was a sense of calm growing around him, radiating out. Matty was right on the edge of it. It was like a soap bubble. Matty reached out a hand, decidedly tentatively, palm-first, toward it. He could feel the edge. He pressed, gently.
“Stop it!” Rob said in a low voice and Matty whipped his hand back into his lap as if burned.
“Sorry!” he said. “It’s like a bubble.”
“Yes. It feels like I’m sitting in the middle of it. When you touch it, I can feel it. It’s distracting.”
“Sorry,” Matty said again. “I’ve stopped.”
Rob opened his eyes briefly and shot him a smile. “I know, I can feel.” Matty sensed the bubble contract a little, presumably as Rob moved his attention to talking. Rob closed his eyes again and it expanded back to where it had been. “I’m going to direct the energy toward the shimmer now,” Rob said. “I don’t know if you’ll notice any change.”
He lifted his right hand from his knee and stretched it out, much as he’d done when he showed Matty the pink flame. He pulled his ear nervously again before flexing his fingers, rather as if he were a piano maestro warming up before a performance.
A heat haze began to build about six feet in front of them, between the settee and the door to the red-tiled hall. Matty kept still. He could still feel the bubble of calm around Rob, but he was also aware that other things were happening. Rob was right, it was almost like a breeze, or the percussion blast from a shell. He couldn’t tell where it was coming from or where it was going, but he was aware in a palpable but indescribable way that something unseen was moving around them.
As he watched, the heat haze became stronger. It expanded into an oval sheet about the height of a person and twice as wide. Rob made a satisfied sound and said, “There.” When Matty looked at him, his eyes were open, and his palm was still extended. Rob stood and stepped toward it, arm still outstretched. He touched it with his fingers, and it rippled. “It buzzes,” he said.
Matty sat with his arms wrapped round his knees. “Is that the gate itself? Are you pushing energy toward it?” he asked.
“Yes, a little. Once I start it, it seems to keep flowing until I cut it off. Like priming a pump.” He swirled his fingers around in a circle and the haze followed them, like soap tracing. “I haven’t done anything other than this. I’m not sure if it’s the gate itself. Or if it’s actually part of the shimmer. Do you want to feel it?”
Matty shook his head. “No. No, thank you. I... It feels wrong.”
Rob nodded. “It doesn’t feel wrong to me. Only different.” He took another breath. “If I keep breathing into it, it expands, or it gets brighter. But not both at once. It’s strange. It’s not a gate, though, as it is. It’s more like... a wall. Or maybe a door. I wondered if when it gets brighter, it’s closer to opening.”
“Do you think that’s why they sometimes describe it as a border?” Matty asked.
“Perhaps. I don’t know.” Rob made a frustrated face. “That’s the trouble, isn’t it? We don’t actually know anything. All these writings are by people who assumed that anyone reading does know things. Basic principles at least. I wish we knew where Arthur had got the books from. And how long he’d been working with it.” He poked sharply at the ripples with a frustrated index finger.
Suddenly, the place he poked began to glow and an ululating, screeching wail filled the room. The shimmer rippled alarmingly. Matty sprang to his feet, not sure whether to run forward or away. Rob looked equally taken aback. He withdrew his hand quickly, stepped back, and made a few swiping motions with his outstretched arm.
The shimmer shrank to a pinpoint and popped out of existence like Matty remembered it doing in the summer when Lin had used it as a gate. The wailing cry faded with it. The circle of calm that Matty could feel around Rob dissipated. He shivered and said, “That didn’t happen before, did it?”
Rob turned to face him, having made sure the heat haze was gone. His face was pale and grim. “No. That didn’t happen before.”
* * * *
MATTY UNFROZE AND WANDERED to the ornate oak sideboard a little unsteadily. That had been unsettling. He poured two measures of brandy into his mother’s cut-crystal glasses and passed one to Rob, who looked as unnerved as he felt.
“That was the same sound that we heard before, wasn’t it? The thing that Lin got you to throw the lamp at?”
“Yes, I think so.” Rob knocked his brandy back in one gulp. Matty could see his hand shaking. He poured another measure into the glass Rob held out to him and Rob sipped at it. “It felt...sticky. It was trying to pull energy from me, in the same way I was pulling the energy to myself to make the shimmer appear.” He sank back onto one of the armchairs.
Matty blinked and took a mouthful of his own drink, turning to rest his back against the sideboard. He tilted his head back against the top cupboards, the sharp edges of the carved relief on the doors digging reassuringly into the back of his scalp. The question came without thought. “Do you think that’s what’s draining me? That drained Arthur to death?” He took another drink and Rob matched his action, then put his glass down on the top of the sideboard and stepped close, drawing Matty into his arms. With the solid weight of the oak at his back and the enveloping warmth of Rob in front of him, Matty felt grounded, despite the other man’s continued slight shaking.
“Bloody hell, Matty. What have we got ourselves into?” Rob said.
