THE EIGHTH

 

This past summer, I realized I’d forgotten my wallet on my way to meet Kaley and Emily at our café. I didn’t think it would be a big deal to run back and grab it from Sylvia’s house, but lucky for me, it started to pour. And when I say pour, I mean the sky split open and unleashed a furious ocean of tears upon Waterloo.

I was drenched when I finally stopped my ridiculous rain-run and jogged up some stairs to hide beneath an awning. I was leaning back against the brick when I realized the windows were stained-glass. Remnants of good memories bleeding together with bad ones rose to the surface, until a guy with a black umbrella trotted up the stairs too.

“Hey,” he said, closing his umbrella and shaking it out.

I looked both ways. “Do I know you?” I’d asked.

The boy shrugged and patted rain off his shoulders. “Don’t think so.”

“Then why’d you follow me up here?” I crossed my arms, stifling a shiver.

The guy stopped. A slow grin spread across his face.

“You must not be part of this congregation.” He nodded to the doors at my back.

I blinked. Then I turned to look at the building.

Good grief, it was a church—an old, architecturally stunning cathedral I’d somehow never paid attention to until now, even though I must have walked past it a hundred times on my way downtown.

“Uh…no. I’m not part of this congregation.” I apologized. “I’m not homeless or anything. I was just trying to get out of the rain.”

He laughed. “I didn’t think you were. I’m Stephen and I work here.” He smiled again. “And you’re welcome to come inside. I have coffee.”

My breathing wavered as I tried to deduce whether he was just being nice to a stranger or if he was trying to flirt. I realized he had to be a few years older than I thought if he worked here.

“No pressure,” he added when I didn’t reply right away. He pulled out a set of keys and turned the lock in the doors, then hauled one of them open.

Inside the building, I saw pale wood structures scattered across the unlit rooms: pews, balconies, and a platform at the front. The stained-glass windows lined the walls of the sanctuary, and colourful paintings crawled over a domed ceiling. I realized I was holding my breath. The sight came with a flood of warm feelings, feelings I knew were from another place. And I found myself answering before I could change my mind.

“Sure. I love coffee.”

 

 

 

Zane raced the wind; my hair spun into knots as I held on, wishing this was all we ever had to do. The quivering, grayish sky stretched for miles; new clouds toiling with an oncoming storm, growling with heavy wind in their sails. I watched it warily.

When the storm thundered in and drowned us in a sea of white, Zane ducked into a cave. After digging a handful of caramels from the Patrol bag, he said, “Now, tell me why you wanted to go to the bloody circus.”

Icy air swept in. When I shuddered, Zane dragged over dry branches from around the cave and tossed them into a pile.

“Come on, Helen, out with it. I’ll be up all night if you don’t tell me, and trust me, I’ll pitch snowballs at you from across this cave until first light if that’s the case.”

“What do you want me to say?” I asked. “I missed you. There, happy?” He slowed his movements, flicking twigs into the fire and blowing on the flame to spread it. A moment later, he dropped down to sit across from me.

“I missed you too,” he said.

“I missed you…way worse.” It sounded like a lame joke, but I wasn’t smiling. “Didn’t you struggle with being separated this year? You sure seemed like you wanted to be spared from it when you asked me to stay in Winter with you.”

A drizzle of snow brushed across the cave floor. Zane studied my hair, eyes, mouth…When he dropped his gaze to the twig between his fingers, disappointment sank through me.

“Helen,” he whispered, tearing brittle pine needles from the twig, “you can’t blame me for wanting you to stay here. I’ll always want you to stay. That will never change.”

I unclasped my hands and leaned back on my palms, biting my lips together.

“What?” he asked, brows tugging in. “Ragnashuck, I’ve muddled your mood again, haven’t I?” He picked up his Patrol staff. “What did I do now?” He tossed a handful of snow at the cave wall and lifted his staff. The snow spiralled like a flock of butterflies that evaporated and sprinkled me with snow.

“I don’t care that you want me to stay. I care that I have to choose a side to stay on at all,” I said.

His face changed. “What do you mean?”

“That man at the circus was a Guard of Doors. I wanted him to make me a door.”

I watched paleness bleach his cheeks. “You bloody what?” Zane scrambled to his knees. “You can’t, Helen. If Elowin has closed a door, you’re not supposed to try and force it open!”

“How do you know Elowin doesn’t want me to have a door?”

“If he wanted you to have one, he would have opened one.”

“He did open one!” I sprang to my feet, kicking snow. “And Kaley went through it. So now, I need to stop Nightflesh before something happens to her. That’s why I need a door; so I’m not stuck on the other side every time I need to be here!”

Zane looked struck. “Helen…you can’t. If it was an option, I would have done it by now.”

I sighed, and an untimely laugh escaped me. “Let’s just forget it.” I scrubbed my eyes and slumped back to sit. “I’m too tired to deal with this right now.”

Zane’s lips twisted like he’d eaten something sour. It brought my gaze to his mouth, and when I didn’t find anything else to look at, a slow smile spread across his face. A blush soaked mine. I forced my eyes back up to his and kept them there. “Do you want me to kiss you, Trite?” he asked. “Will that make you better?”

“What?” I scrambled to reposition my legs. “No. That’s not what I was…”

His smile grew, irises lighting. Zane dropped his Patrol staff and leaned forward, bringing his face before mine. I stopped breathing but he waited, mouth hovering, his lashes nearly brushing me. “You do want me to, but you also don’t,” he said. He bit his lip and pulled back, draping an arm over his knee. The space between us felt like a cavern that had appeared too fast.

“Good grief, Zane. I never said I wanted you to do that.” I hugged my arms to myself.

“You’re all wishwashy.” Zane tapped his fingers on his legs. “I’ll kiss you when I know you want me to, Helen. That’s a Winter promise.”

I huffed. “You’re so…”

His dimples appeared with his smile. “I certainly hope so. I’d hate to make things too easy for you, grumpy Trite.”

I reached to shove him off balance, but he snatched my wrist and tickled inside my elbow. I released an unfeminine shriek-laugh before tearing my arm away.

“You’re frustrating too, Helen Bell,” he said. “You don’t know the half of it.”

 

 

A pair of snow rabbits rolled from beneath a log when we emerged from the cave the next morning. They grinned, eyeing our backpacks with their greedy blue eyes.

“What are we going to do if we get to the key room and it’s guarded by an army?” I asked Zane as we trudged over snow-dusted logs and rocks.

“I suppose we’ll turn back.” He tugged on his gloves as we walked, glancing up at the hazy heavens. A moment later, he extended a hand to me. “Enough walking.”

After hours of gliding over white dunes, things started looking familiar. I could almost hear Mara Rouge’s snow-pups howling from Wentchester Cove, the gnomes clashing their weapons against their armour.

I shuddered when we reached the valley. I forced myself to face it—the cove where it all began for me. But I blinked.

“It’s empty,” I said.

Zane eyed the landscape; the pillars, the glassy rink, the beige cliffside. “Maybe the Beast doesn’t believe this place is a threat anymore.”

“Well, he’s wrong,” I said and began marching down the slope into the valley. The warmth of my orb promised as much.

The glassy ice crunched beneath our boots. There were so many things I wanted to say about this place, but we walked in silence, each reliving our own nightmares and victories. Halfway across the rink, Zane took my hand.

My Patrolman stopped in the tunnel’s entrance, but I kept moving, anticipating the large, golden sun-orb bursting to life in the key room. I couldn’t wait to feel its glorious message sink into my skin. After the year I’d had, I needed a win.

Zane caught up as I swept through the curtains. I smiled and breathed in the fragrance of life, flora, and unity, studying the hundreds of Carrier names on the walls as I pulled off my necklace. This was for them.

“I think we should get back to the factory,” Zane said, glancing back at the tunnel with a peculiar face. I slid my orb into the nearest key slot just as the next word cracked from his mouth, “Wait!”

Frazzled, I tore the orb back out, but it was too late.

The golden sun burst with light, just like I’d imagined. But it flickered.

My hand tightened around my orb. The golden sun blinked out, then sank to dark black like molten ink. “W…what’s it doing?” I breathed, raising my orb. A crack popped upon the surface of the glass, a spear of smoke digging its way in. The gold and ivory retaliated, trying to smother it out.

“What did I do?” I croaked, dragging it against my chest.

The cave walls began to twist like an illusion of mirrors. The names carefully penned over so many years began to melt, their ink dripping down the walls. Flames burst from the sun, slashing at whatever names remained like they were crossing them off a list.

Zane grabbed me and tore into the tunnel. “It’s him!”

Ice needled from his Patrol staff as an eruption rattled the room behind us. “Run!” he shouted, and I gasped. Smoke rushed from the key room curtains, turning like a giant snake head and slithering after us.

Snow flew in from the tunnel entrance like birds pumping their wings and fused together to create an ice-wall at our backs, but the smoke split into three tentacles and leapt around it.

It got Zane first; a hand of smoke coiled around his neck and smothered his eyes. His Patrol staff clattered to the ground, and I screamed. He was dragged into the blackness; I grabbed his Patrol staff and slashed at the smoke.

My Revelation Orb burned with light, and I shouted at the darkness, “Let him go!” Heat filled my veins and I tossed the Patrol staff to go in, following Zane’s anguished shouts.

The orb was a lamp in the storm, illuminating my path until I found him shuddering on the ground. I grabbed Zane’s arms and dragged him with me as cracking echoed down the tunnel.

Zane tried to help; he clambered to his feet and stumbled along, running into me. I could hear his raspy breaths. I grabbed his arm and pulled it over my shoulders to guide him, shuffling step by step. His other arm wound around my waist until his toe hit his Patrol staff. He fumbled to scoop it up.

Boulders caved in around us; flames erupted out of nowhere. I jogged for the light at the tunnel’s end, putting every ounce of gusto I possessed into pulling Zane with me.

We shot out the tunnel’s mouth and fell into the snow as the cliff crumbled, loose rocks tumbling in every direction. I scrambled back, yanking Zane’s jacket so he’d follow. He fumbled behind me as we put distance between ourselves and the exploding mountain.

When we stopped, panting, I turned to see the cliffside of Wentchester Cove spill in, crushing the remnants of the key room to dust and exploding into a mass of flames. I glanced over at Zane and found him…not watching it.

He stared straight ahead, blinking, crawling back on wobbly limbs. His gloved hand came against his face, feeling his cheeks, his eyelids. Still staring off at nothing.

“Zane,” I whispered as the last of the roaring cliff began to hush. “Are you…”

His head tilted in my direction, and I swallowed at the absence of electricity in his eyes. Just pale irises remained, and moisture in the corners. “Trite…” he said. His hand came out in my direction, not finding me.

My stomach tightened, and I crawled over.

Zane wasn’t quite looking at my face, but I felt his spirit reaching out. The tune that normally sailed from his heart was quiet, like a music box that had been stomped upon. My Patrolman felt around for my wrist. He slid his hand up my arm when he found it, and he clutched my bicep.

“I can’t see,” he rasped.

Zane would have heard the grinding of rocks, and he would have felt the flying pebbles. But he didn’t see the last breath of the cliff. Only I had witnessed the death of Wentchester Cove.

 

 

 

I didn’t know the way back to the factory. It was going to take days to get back to the others on foot with me whispering landmarks in Zane’s ear.

My Patrolman gripped me with one hand, and his Patrol staff with the other, holding it ahead to bump against uneven spots on the path. With verbal directions alone, he steered us toward the nearest village in between raspy coughs.

“Which inn should we go to?” I whispered as we inched over a cobbled road. Dusk has swept over the village, transforming the hazy sky to charcoal. Strings of flickering lights dangled from branches curling over the street, slipping down like glowing vines. The tallest elves brushed them aside to avoid walking into them. The street was mostly empty, but those who walked it wore red.

“It doesn’t matter. Pick one.” Zane reminded me of a cracking marble statue without the spark in his eyes, the flush in his cheeks, or the vibrance in his words. In fact, with his pale irises, he looked like…

I swallowed. He looked like his mother.

A carriage crunched over the ice-patched street. As it passed, I caught a glimpse of metal cages filled with snow rabbits. The creatures’ ears were wilted as they huddled together, their mouths tipped into frowns. It was the first time I felt an ounce of remorse for the obnoxious little critters and my gaze followed the cages until they disappeared around the bend.

I guided Zane to the nearest inn. A collection of bells sang when I pushed the door open, and the spicy scents of citrus and holly berries engulfed us. Candles rested atop a long beam-countertop where a Red elf was sorting room keys.

“I’d like a room, please.” My request brought her head up from her work. She looked at me oddly, at my dull Trite eyes. But she nodded and picked up a key. I reached for it, but she drew it back, laying her other hand flat. I was a breath away from offering to clean her lobby as a trade for payment when Zane slipped his arm from me and drew a satchel from his pocket.

“How many rings?” he asked the elf, then coughed.

The elf looked us up and down. “Ten plus six,” she decided, revealing a cringingly high voice.

“Ten plus six?” I objected.

But the elf shrugged, bunching her puffed sleeves. “Our taxes to the Red Kingdom were raised this quarter past. Bad tidings befall us all.”

“This is all I have. Take it,” Zane said, handing the woman the satchel. The elf raised a brow, but she grabbed the satchel and stuffed it into her dress pocket. With one last look down her nose, she slid a copper key with a threaded ticket over the wood counter. I scooped it up, biting back my complaints.

Zane linked his hand through mine, and I guided him past the lobby and down the hall until I found our room.

The room was the size of a closet. There wasn’t enough space for one of us to lay on the narrow bed and another to lay flat on the floor. A chair took up the corner, and when Zane realized what it was, he slumped down into it, padding his hand along the wall to find a place to rest his Patrol staff.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You take the bed,” I said to him.

When he smiled—the first smile since we left Wentchester Cove—it warmed my whole body. “Helen, I’ve learned that you turn into a grouchy polar creature when your mind is muddled. Go to bed, Trite. I’ll wake you if I hear anything troublesome.”

There was no way I’d sleep a wink after what happened, but I knew he would argue me to death over it, so I sat on the bed to pull off my boots and laid back on the mattress. “It smells like dust and claustrophobia in here.”

Zane was resting his mouth against his fist, but I saw his smile spread past his knuckles. I tilted to study him. “You don’t seem upset about what happened,” I added.

His smile did slide away then. He shifted in his seat and folded his hands on his lap. “I’m unmerry enough for the both of us,” he admitted.

The chain of my necklace rattled as I lifted my orb, studying the crack in the glass where a smoky stain had scorched it. The ivory and gold toiled, restless.

“It’s a sign,” Zane said. “Nightflesh is trying to get in—the way he got into the Cove. The way his blackness got into your orb.”

“It’s a sign he’s trying to get into what?”

“He’s trying to get into you, Helen,” Zane said. “He’s burned the Volumes, the library, the key room, and the hope in most of Winter’s villages. You’re the last thing he needs to stop the Truth from spreading.”