Behind Sorrow There Is Always Sorrow
Katy stayed in her room all day after her argument with Wes. She didn’t hear him come home, and she didn’t venture out to eat, in case she bumped into him. Her appetite was gone, anyway.
She stalked her friends’ social media profiles again in the night on an alt account, unable to sleep. Rocket had posted a memorial post for her, and this week had taken a photo of a café they’d used to hang out in after college, with the caption ‘missing my friend today’. The comments were an outpouring of support.
All her friends beamed at her, a snapshot of them having fun, living their lives. Katy hated how much it made her feel like a phantom, insubstantial, like she’d really died.
Rachel had an alt account too, but all Katy’s profiles were blocked.
Bitch.
Katy wished she’d thrown her phone into the sea.
For most of breakfast that morning, the only conversation to be heard was one-sided: Charlie taking a call from her latest girlfriend. Katy didn’t listen. The news was on in the background and the stock market trends droned by in a flicker of red and yellow. Wes wasn’t listening either, immersed in his annual re-read of some boring biography. His nail polish matched the colour of the woman’s suit on the cover.
“Penny for them,” Hugo said in her ear.
Katy jumped. “What?”
“Your thoughts. Penny for them.” Hugo smiled, that boyish, kind smile that made her feel safer. He glanced at Wes and Charlie, and pulled a face. “Do you want a coffee on the balcony?”
Katy nodded.
They left Charlie and Wes at the breakfast bar and Hugo took their mugs outside. Katy pulled the French windows shut behind them, and they sat looking out over the street. Hugo didn’t say anything straight away.
Katy sipped her coffee and tasted the citrus notes in it, trying to work out which blend Wes had made them with. “Is this Charlie’s favourite one?” she asked.
Hugo beamed at her. “Good taste.”
She ducked her head, self-conscious. “Hope for me yet.”
“Always.” Hugo exuded warmth, not in the way Charlie fired it out in fits and starts of manic energy, but more in the constant way of a reliable, bulky old boiler. Katy wondered what the hell he saw in a man like her brother, or indeed, what a man like her brother saw in Hugo.
At least Hugo was too sweet to care that Wes didn’t fit naturally into his world, but she doubted everyone was that nice. “Do you think I’ll fit in? In posh girl college?” She aimed for flippant, but her voice wobbled.
He put his cup on the wrought iron tabletop. “I hope so. You’re like our Eliza Doolittle.”
“Who?” Katy hated feeling stupid, but it was Hugo who looked embarrassed. He didn’t elaborate.
“I was never very good in school,” he said, changing the subject. “You’re very bright, though, your brother tells me. You’ll be absolutely fine.”
Katy frowned. “How would he know?”
“He always rang your mum to find out how you did in all your exams,” Hugo murmured.
“Oh.” Katy didn’t know how to feel about that. She sipped her coffee, trying to get back to safer ground. “Did you always want to be a teacher?”
Hugo laughed. “Lord, no. I always knew I’d work for my father, and I’d be terrible at it.” He blinked, as if surprised at himself. “I don’t think I’ve ever said that out loud before.”
“Your secret’s safe with me,” Katy said. “It’s not like you don’t have to keep a ton of mine.” She glanced back into the living space. “Ours.” She paused and lowered her voice. “Why… why do you?”
“I love him.” Hugo smiled. “I’m face-blind, so it doesn’t, you know. Work on me as much.”
“Yeah, but why did you… I don’t know, I mean, you fell in love with the man your best friend is, like, suicidally addicted to?” She stopped herself. “God, sorry. That came out wrong. It’s just, you’re so nice, and Wes is…” She couldn’t find the right words, but Hugo chuckled.
“He left her to see if cold turkey would work. It didn’t, so he came back for her. And then he stayed. And that – that counts for something.”
Katy thought about Wes controlling his powers, the Stone Circle waiting for him in the Outside, and all that would mean. “You wouldn’t… Like, if Charlie was free of him, if she didn’t need him anymore, would you leave?”
Hugo considered this. “Cha-Cha’s my oldest friend. If she ever did leave him, that would be… really awkward. But if it wasn’t for Wes, I wouldn’t be doing my teacher-training. Daddy’s cut me off and Mummy won’t talk to me, so I’d be on my own.” He shrugged, broad shouldered, grazing the balcony rail. “What… what do you think?”
Katy smirked despite herself. “I think Year Six will eat you alive.”
Hugo burst out laughing. “Yes. Probably.”
His laugh was so warm and genuine. She wished she could feel something.
Wes rapped on the glass and slid the window open, mobile phone in one hand.
“Hey, I have to head out for a bit. Business.”
Katy didn’t care. Her tail stub itched, but not enough to distract her. She wondered if she could impale herself on her own tail-tip, stab down and end it all that way, but probably not. Nothing was ever that easy.
She looked at Wes, at the emptiness behind his eyes she would forget when she blinked, and knew words weren’t going to solve this. It didn’t matter anymore.
“I’m going for my run anyway,” she announced, coming back inside.
Charlie, in casual gym clothes that didn’t do much for her wraith-like frame, checked the fitness monitor on her wrist. “Give me ten minutes and I’ll come too.”
“No.” Katy shook her head. “I want to be on my own for a bit. Thanks, though.”
“Hey, are you really okay?” Hugo put out his hand and she shrank from it. He was too warm and solid and kind. His grounding touch made her skin writhe away, as if she would defile him.
“I’m fine.” Katy smiled. Her face obeyed, but it didn’t warm that cold spot in her chest. “I love you guys. You’ve been so great. I really appreciate it.”
“Anything you need,” Hugo said, earnest, honest eyes searching hers. “If you ever want to talk about anything, or—”
“I’m good. Thanks.” Katy kept smiling, willing him to find what he needed in her face. “I’ll see you guys later.”
The lie slipped out so easily. She pulled her trainers on and Wes waited for her so they could leave together.
“Oh, you go ahead,” she said. “I just need to grab a snack. And some water.”
Wes nodded, distracted. “Don’t go too far. Take it easy. And I’ll get us tickets to something. Let’s – let’s go out tonight. West End. We’ll get dinner and see a show, text me what you fancy.” He frowned. “Keep your phone on you, yeah?”
“Sure.” She watched him.
He was tired too.
She didn’t need to remember what he looked like to know that. Talking to him drained her, like he was dragging all the energy he could into himself, a black hole sucking the life out of her. Katy knew that wasn’t his fault. She dropped her gaze to his vegan leather shoes.
“Love you.” He kissed her forehead. “Be safe. I do worry about you, you know.”
She wondered how slick he could be with those little lies, how easily they slid from his mouth like his tongue was Teflon-coated.
Katy smiled back. “You too.”
Wes left and shut door.
She kept up the smile and went back to the kitchen area to put a protein bar in her running pack, sliding a sharp, short-bladed knife from the drawer along with it when Charlie and Hugo weren’t looking.
She had changed her skin so many times now that the old scars on her arms were fading memories. It wouldn’t matter if she made a few more.
Killing machines can’t feel, anyway.
Katy started off on her usual route to Hyde Park, hoping she would find somewhere quiet. It hadn’t quite reached the twenties according to her smart watch, but it was warm enough to regret not bringing her bigger water bottle. She flopped down by the Long Water, chugging her now-tepid water and gasping for breath.
She wondered if anyone really noticed her, or if she could slit her wrists into the grass here in the embrace of the meagre shade and be gone before anyone noticed. Would that even kill her?
And what happened next?
Would she join the Throne in the other dimension, forever trapped in the tessellating mass of limbs, condemned to a hivemind limbo with all the others until there was a new Thirteenth? And then what?
Katy hesitated.
That was what she deserved, though. And she wouldn’t be lonely anymore.
She toyed with the zip, not caring that she was in sight of strangers. There were dogs playing on the banks further down from her and on the other side, but they might as well be behind Perspex, while she was in her own little bubble where nothing could perceive her. Everyone else was beyond the walls she was suffocating behind, living lives she’d robbed her own siblings of having. Lives that she would never have.
She slipped her hand into the pouch. The protein bar was melted and squidgy in the packet, but the knife was hard and sharp.
“Gorgeous day,” a rich Welsh voice said from behind her.
Katy flinched. Her tail-tip dug painfully into the ground beneath her.
“Here.” Something cold touched her shoulder, so cold it stung.
She twisted around and was confronted with a silver can of her favourite soft drink, unopened, condensation dripping down the sides. The man holding it looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t place him.
“No thanks.”
The man smiled. For a moment she wasn’t certain where that smile stopped and the tree beside him began. Curls of summer growth burgeoned from his cheeks.
Katy blinked hard, squinting. “Sorry, I—”
“It’s a lot to ask of anyone, to become the Beast,” the man said, gazing down at her. “You know the killing is only done when you say it’s done, and not before. But when is it done? That’s the question, isn’t it?”
Katy took the can from his hand.
It fizzed when she cracked it open.
“I don’t know you,” she said, thinking that she shouldn’t accept drinks from strangers, but she wasn’t scared. She had the oddest feeling she was dreaming, without having fallen asleep.
The man shook his head. “No, but I know your family. And you know mine.”
Katy sipped, because it didn’t really matter now what happened next. It was the best thing she’d ever tasted. It froze the cold spot in her chest and shattered it into a thousand pieces, and the second swallow filled her entire body with a delicious chill.
“What’s your name?” Katy thought he reminded her of someone. One of Wes’s friends, maybe.
The man’s eyes creased at the corners as he smiled. She couldn’t guess his age – forties, fifties, but maybe older, his eyes alight with the blaze of a bonfire, his hair bark-brown to match, unruly as dark, dancing flame.
“Now, you ought to know that. Your cousin won’t say it. There’s a clue for you.”
She knew instinctively he meant Ricky, but her mind went blank. She shook her head.
“I’ll give you three guesses.”
“Rumplestiltskin,” she said.
The man laughed. It rang over the water, and Katy thought for a moment the ripples were diamond-crested waves, and they were alone on a promontory of short, scrubby grass, staring out to sea.
She got to her feet, and Hyde Park was gone.
God, what a weird dream.
The waves slapped and broke against the headland, cutting off the outer head of the limestone island from the coast. The sea looked like something she could walk across, a grey, glittering, choppy expanse that would hold her weight if she ran fast enough.
A grey seal broke the surface of the water below and dived again. Katy decided she liked it here. It was easier to breathe, easier to be. Every breath made her lighter.
Did I die? Is this what it’s like?
She took her time, tapping her lips. She didn’t want to guess, in case the spell or whatever broke, and she ended up back where she’d come from.
“A name my cousin won’t say? I’m not sure. Are you Welsh?”
“I’m a lot of things.” The man was still in the shade of the tree, but it shouldn’t be growing here. It also hadn’t been an apple tree last time she’d checked, but there were low-hanging juicy apples on its branches now, their fragrance mingling with the salt and seaweed on the air.
“I don’t know any Welsh names,” Katy admitted. “This is… this is like a story. Like a fairy story. Um. Wait, Oberon. No, that’s not Welsh…”
“I’ll have a forfeit from you for two wrong guesses. You’re not trying very hard.”
The man held out his hand and turned it over, palm up, then down, then up, and sitting on his hand was the knife from Wes’s kitchen. Katy slid her hand into the pouch, but it was gone.
The protein bar was still there, still melted.
“Apples,” she murmured, something tugging at her memory. Something about an island, the Island of Apples, and eternal life or eternal youth, and sleeping knights… “Wait. Is it… Merlin?”
It was too stupid to be correct.
“To the English, that’s close enough. Myrddin, in fact.”
Katy blinked. “God, this is a weird fucking dream.”
Myrddin tossed the knife out over the waves. Katy followed the glint of metal until it flashed into the water. He snapped his fingers, and a coracle bobbed into view from the spot the knife had sunk, as if it had been waiting.
“Now, what will you have?”
“For guessing?” Katy shrugged. “Can I have an apple?”
Myrddin picked one and handed it to her. “Any time you like. It’s what they’re for.”
Katy bit into it, breaking the smooth red skin. The firm white flesh crunched like bone, sweet and juicy, and the fruit-gore dribbled down her chin.
He watched her with those fiery eyes. “Do you know why you’re here?”
She shook her head. “Should I?”
“Your brother’s friend is kin to me. And she’s concerned about your family – she’s right to be, but she cares only that you do not hurt the ones she loves. I care about whether the sun will come up tomorrow.”
Katy took another bite of the apple and mumbled around it. “I can’t do this anymore.” Her voice was flat, even with her mouth full. “There’s so many of them.”
“You’re eating the ones who enjoy their monstrosity, is that right? The ones who revel in being killers, the ones who harvest organs for increased shares of glory, the ones who revel in their power over others?”
Katy nodded.
“And what do you do about the ones who simply think they’re doing the right thing?”
“I—” She hesitated. “I don’t… But that could be anyone.”
“Not so black and white,” he agreed, keeping his distance. “You could eat everyone under that reasoning. But they’re not sustaining you. Has no one told you there is better meat?”
Katy paused. “What d’you mean?”
Myrddin’s face was stone. “Whose fault is it that you’re like this? Who spread their infection into our world and made you all what you are?”
Katy turned this over in her mind. The looming monster she’d heard in her head almost all her life, demanding its rights and her loyalty, promising her things it wouldn’t give her, the one she’d told to fuck off. Doubt squirmed inside her.
“I don’t think I can… I mean… Not Grandad.”
“Why do you have to do everything by yourself?” Myrddin asked. “All the best things come in threes, you know. After it is done, then you can all decide what you’re going to be.”
“I’m death,” Katy murmured, wiping her chin with her forearm.
He took that calmly, and just as calmly tore her only certainty apart.
“What is death? Is death the destroyer or the restorer? Are you the edge and the end, or do you stand guard at the boundary lines?” He tilted his head, as if he could see the turmoil in her stomach. “When you taste the real flesh, the flesh you were meant to feed on, then you will be satisfied, and then you will be able to choose what you are, what you do.”
Katy took another bite of the apple. It writhed in her mouth, and she ground her teeth down over it until it submitted, and she gulped down the subservient pulp.
The flesh was crawling with white things, but they weren’t maggots. She stared at the tendrils worming their way out from the heart of the fruit, reminding her of Ricky’s own infestation.
Whatever they were, they were delicious.
Katy took a bigger bite, ripping them away from the core, and they burst and flailed between her molars. The fizzy fruit juice washed it down perfectly, and she gulped down everything in the can and tore at the apple until there was nothing left except the stalk and a quickly-browning core.
She frowned. “Hey, so. If we’re so powerful, and you want me to – what, work with the boys? To kill Grandad? Have I got that right? Then… aren’t you worried about us? Because I’d be worried about us.”
He took a deep breath of the stiff sea air. “If it was anyone else, the stars would turn dark, the moon would be blood, and the world would burn.”
Katy rolled her eyes. “Bit dramatic.”
Myrddin remained unimpressed. “And instead… your brother, who could master armies and spread his infection across continents, who contains legions and could muster them at will for peace or for war, is doing what? Running a nightclub in Brixton? Terrifying. And your cousin, who could pluck secrets from the heart of the sun and weave the tapestry of the wyrd into any pattern of his choosing, is where? Wallowing in solitude because he’s upset his missus.” He shook his head.
“No, he’s not,” Katy snapped, before she could stop herself. “He’s doing better.” She caught his expression and scowled, partly at his scepticism and partly at herself for defending him.
Myrddin ignored her. “And you – you who could stand and defy the apocalypse – you, who could sit on the Throne you’ve made and be the keeper of your clan and their memory, you, possessed of a form nothing can destroy… You are sitting in a park, about to cut your arms with something your brother-in-law uses for slicing tomatoes.”
Katy’s cheeks burned. “Fuck you, old man.”
“I see he’s rubbed off on you, your cousin.” Myrddin gave her an arch look of disapproval. “Not quite in the way I’d hoped, but it’s something.”
“You’re saying that… that what, we’re stupid? That what we feel doesn’t matter? That we should just… we should stop being ourselves and be this… be these monsters we’re supposed to be?” Katy threw the empty can at him. “What the fuck are you doing, then?”
He caught it without blinking. “I’m saying we are all very fortunate that you are who you are. But I’m also saying perhaps there is more out there for you than that small dark room you each insist on sitting in.” He crushed the can in his hand without visible effort. “And I am trying to ensure that the world doesn’t end, because even I have my limitations, and some acts of heroism, God help us, are for those with the powers I do not possess. Even if the ones with those powers are doing their level best to deny their potential and doom us all.”
Katy couldn’t reply. She swallowed.
Myrddin shook his head. “That is all I have to say to you. I took. Now I give.” He reached out and gave her a little push, and Katy found herself flung backwards off the edge of the island, landing with a thud in the bottom of the bobbing coracle where the grey seal circled and disappeared.
She blinked.
She was lying on her back looking up at the sky, a perfect clear blue, the branches of the tree spreading quietly above her. Shouts of children broke the stillness, and the sun beat down on the basking people in Hyde Park.
Her chest was warm, her breathing easier.
The darkness had not gone away, but it was somewhere further back, no longer swamping her.
Katy sat up, alive.
She didn’t know what had happened. Something lingered, something important.
The only thing in her pouch was a protein bar.
She breathed in. She breathed out.
What a weird fucking dream.
The park was peaceful. Katy lay back, a lightness in her chest, flooded with a sweet weightlessness. She was full and satisfied, the grass was a verdant green, the water was clear and grey, the tree above rustling its music.
Could a killing machine appreciate this?
Maybe she was more than that, after all.
Maybe she was something much greater.
Could I really kill Grandad?
She didn’t know what that would mean. Could the family survive without Grandad and His glory? How would they Change without Him, without the guiding Voice?
She could imagine devouring everyone, leaving no soul alive, far more easily than she could picture the family without Grandad.
That was something to think about later. Katy stood up, a renewed spark inside her.
Maybe we don’t need Him anymore, now there’s us.
Just because she couldn’t imagine it didn’t mean it couldn’t happen.
Katy lifted her chin and stretched, feeling every muscle in her human-passing body come under her control. She was the Beast, whatever form she took.
She was a god.
Gods made their own future, their own destinies.
She wasn’t done yet, and when she was, the stars would shiver, the earth would break, and the moon would shine with blood.
Spite surged her into a slow run, gaining speed as something in her veins fizzed with vigour and power.
She was a god, and she was going home.