GUS WAS SITTING ON A PLANK OF WOOD ON THE FLOOR, his back against the wall and his elbows on his knees. He ran his fingertips over the soaked carpet, which reeked of filth and mud. The bedrooms had been badly damaged by the last flood, which had hit London a few days earlier. For the first time since the Spurned had come back the upstairs rooms had ended up under a foot of water, which had sapped their morale. Then the water had fallen as suddenly as it had risen, and the sun had reappeared, but this wasn’t enough to lift the spirits of the Outsiders throughout the world or of the occupants of the small house on Bigtoe Square, who couldn’t imagine ever feeling optimistic again.
Oksa’s bedroom was in a terrible shambles, but Gus often took refuge there. And it was here, transported by her Identego, that the New Gracious found him, looking serious and lost in thought. Her first reaction was to run to him, tilt his chin up so she could look him in the face and shout: “I’m here, Gus! I’m here!” He might not have heard her, but he might have sensed her presence. However, the Identego forced her to keep her distance, very much against her will—she had to look, learn and understand—so she merely watched, hovering over the wrecked room.
When Gus brushed away the strand of hair covering part of his face, she could see that the ordeals of the past few months had left their mark. Despite the baggy Aran sweater swamping his body, it was impossible not to notice that Gus had lost a lot of weight. His gaunt cheeks emphasized the angular line of his jaw, making it seem firmer. His hands looked much the worse for wear after nailing down, tearing up, sanding, replacing and repairing everything that had been destroyed by the storms and floods. The pure dark blue of his eyes was muddy and it looked as if an inky curtain had dropped down to hide his deep sadness. It hurt Oksa to see him like that. He put his head in his hands and groaned softly. The Identego relented and she was able to draw closer.
Just as she was about to touch her friend’s hand, the bedroom door opened and Kukka came in. Oksa jerked back, although no one would ever know she was there.
“You okay, Gus?” asked Kukka softly.
“Sure, apart from the fact that my head feels like some fiendish machine is drilling into it…”
Oksa was irritated to see Kukka shoot Gus a sympathetic look and sit down beside him. She tossed back her long blond hair and the sweet scent of vanilla wafted in Oksa’s direction. Even though she was thinner and looked exhausted, she was still undeniably beautiful.
“Those monster bats really did a number on me,” added Gus.
Kukka rested her hand on Gus’s forearm. And her head on his shoulder. Six feet away, Oksa was rooted to the spot. Gus wasn’t doing anything to shake her off! How had it come to this? Oksa’s Identego didn’t move.
It couldn’t move.
Because Oksa wanted to know.
“As soon as things improve, Andrew will take you to see all the best doctors,” murmured Kukka.
Gus didn’t say a word. He lifted his head and leant it against the wall. His face relaxed gradually as Kukka snuggled closer to him.
“You know as well as I do that no doctor on Earth can help me,” he said eventually. “The countdown started the moment I was bitten by that bloody Death’s Head Chiropteran. And even the Werewall transfusion can’t save me. The only thing that can is a concoction made from the sap of an outlandish plant, a stone that doesn’t exist here and the snot of a creature that gets high on human emotion. I don’t want to seem pessimistic or anything, otherwise you’ll tell me off again, but it’s not looking good. I’m not going to break any records for life expectancy, that’s for sure.”
Oksa stiffened. At any other time the Identego was a brilliant power, but right now it was agony, allowing her to watch when she couldn’t do anything to help.
“You’ll get through this,” continued Kukka. “The alternative is unthinkable. Otherwise, who would I play endless games of chess with?”
The Identego didn’t react, even though Oksa’s mind was desperately urging it to do something. Kukka’s words pierced her like poisoned arrows. Thousands of miles away—in another dimension—she was lying in bed and suffering as badly as if she were really in her bedroom in Bigtoe Square, near Gus and that… girl. Apart from Kukka’s pathetic attempt at humour, she’d found out something she never thought she would, something she’d always dreaded: that she had a rival. Her heart pounded. Why didn’t her Identego do something? Why didn’t it grab hold of that bimbo’s gorgeous hair and send her flying to the far end of the Earth with a flawless Knock-Bong? And since when did Gus play chess? That simpering bitch must have taught him.
“As it’s your birthday tomorrow,” said Gus, “perhaps you’ll be magnanimous enough to let me win?”
“That’s the kind of thing you have to earn!” replied Kukka.
Oksa saw Gus smile. She clenched her fists.
“You know, it’s twelve years ago today that I was adopted by Olof and Lea. It was the day before my fourth birthday.”
Oksa cried out in her bed as her Identego lurked in a corner of her bedroom in Bigtoe Square. Kukka had been adopted! Like Gus! That must have brought them closer. But that revelation made Oksa realize how uncharitable and thoughtless she’d been: she’d never even wondered why the daughter of two Insiders hadn’t been able to enter Edefia. The only thing she’d been interested in was Kukka’s relationship with Tugdual, and then Gus. Nothing else. She’d never tried to find out anything about Kukka’s personal life. And now, the fact that she was learning the answer to questions she’d never bothered to ask felt like rubbing salt in a wound.
“Do you remember anything from before, then?” asked Gus.
“Only a few vague memories. Olof and Lea were so wonderful that it was easy to forget what had happened.”
“What you went through was awful.”
“Yes, it was,” said Kukka softly.
She paused as her eyes misted over, then she continued:
“What about you? Do you remember anything?”
“No. I was a baby when my parents came to collect me from the Chinese orphanage. They’re the only parents I ever knew.”
Neither of them spoke for a while.
“Do you think we’ll ever see them again?”
“No,” whispered Gus.
Oksa’s blood ran cold. Had Gus lost heart? Was he that demoralized? She had to do something. A tear slid down her cheek. She surrendered control and gave free rein to her Identego.
Gus shivered violently, staring wide-eyed. Kukka pulled away and looked at him in surprise.
“What’s wrong?” she gasped.
“It’s Oksa!” gasped Gus.
Kukka sat up suddenly.
“Gus!” she exclaimed reproachfully. “Stop it! It can’t be Oksa!”
But the Identego was already surrounding Gus, filling him with an intense sensation of pleasure that felt so real it was almost physical.
“It is Oksa,” he insisted, his face transfigured.
Kukka gazed at him wearily. Then she got up and left the room, looking miserable.
“Oksa, if you can hear me, do something!” begged Gus.
Concentrating hard, Oksa tried to make a discernible movement or gesture. It was incredible that Gus sensed her presence, but she had to do better than that. She focused on the tie that Gus, like her, never seemed to take off, and tried to catch hold of the end to yank it upwards. The few ounces of fabric felt heavier than a block of concrete. With her body drenched in sweat and her heart in pieces, she wept with frustration in her bed. Then it occurred to her that maybe she should leave well alone.
Perhaps a hope destined never to be realized was worse than despair?
Yielding sadly to the will of her Identego, Oksa let it embrace her friend one last time, which gave her a melancholy pleasure. Then, after a few seconds, she finally realized her efforts hadn’t gone unnoticed when she heard Gus murmur “Thank you”.
After a while, feeling comforted and delighted, Gus decided to leave Oksa’s bedroom, unaware that he was being followed by the Identego, which took the Gracious upstairs.
Dragomira’s strictly private workroom was in shadow. Only a small oil lamp was burning inside one of the many niches in the walls, shedding a yellowish glow over the room, which had been converted into a dormitory.
Oksa watched Gus lie down with a tired sigh. Her Identego allowed her to caress him lightly one last time, promising to return soon, then she looked around to see which of the seven beds might belong to her mother. She located her without difficulty: the wheelchair was a dead giveaway. With a silent cry, Oksa felt herself rush over to what she recognized as Dragomira’s old bed. Marie Pollock was lying on her side, fast asleep. Oksa rested her head on the pillow a few inches from her mother’s face and studied her. Even asleep, she looked exhausted. The dim light made her skin appear waxy, but Oksa was sure it was probably worse in broad daylight. She reached out a hand and stroked her hair. It seemed coarse and much thinner than she remembered. Suddenly Marie shifted in her sleep and her chapped lips parted to let a plaintive murmur escape.
“Oksa…”
“I’m here, Mum,” whispered Oksa. “I’m here.”
Marie, who was in a deep sleep, sighed and her face relaxed. Oksa stretched out beside her, keeping her eyes fixed on her mother’s much-loved features. Then the late hour got the better of her and she fell into a comforting, yet short-lived, doze.