Dana and Jean sat together in the cafeteria, talking as usual in low voices. She was overjoyed to have him back. When he met her in the hall that morning, she had hugged him without thinking and he had held her tightly. Though she heard a few gasps around her, she didn’t care. She was also happy and relieved to know that grand-père was safe and on Cree lands again.
“I find him first in the Shaking Tent,” Jean told her. “Then I track him with Roy. He go near to Labrador City.” The words were caught in his throat. “He try to go home.”
“Oh, that’s sad,” Dana said softly.
“It is necessary I visit him more. He forget who he is and then he fight to remember.”
Jean sat back in his chair and stared at Dana. There was a puzzled look on his face.
“You are différente. I feel it. What happen?”
Dana’s heart skipped a beat. This wasn’t going to be easy, but she couldn’t avoid it. She had to tell him. Taking a deep breath, she plunged in.
“I went into the West. I met the Old Ones, the spirits of the land. They showed me things about my power, to help me on my mission.”
She saw him register that she had broken her promise to do nothing till he returned. His eyes flashed. His lips pressed closer together. Things were about to get worse. She had thought long and hard about Jean in his absence. The attack on her aunts had confirmed her decision about others being involved. Laurel was the one who had first argued the point, but now Dana herself fully agreed.
“I’m sorry, Jean, but I’ve got to do the rest of this by myself. Believe me, I appreciate everything you’ve done, but I can’t put you in danger anymore. If anything happened to you, it would be my fault. I just can’t do that.”
Though she had expected him to be angry, she wasn’t prepared for the explosion that followed. He was already standing before she had finished, and he was furious.
“Tabernac, you decide for me? Who you are, eh? You think I don’t know for myself that I go to danger or not? Maudit, câlisse. I don’t like this! I don’t like you!”
As he stormed away, Dana sat as still as stone. She was in shock. Her insides were twisted into a knot. Her world was collapsing around her.
“Boy trouble?” Georgia’s voice was kind as she took the chair Jean had just vacated. “I caught the end of it. And you look as if you’ve been hit with a ton of bricks.”
“I … I have,” Dana said. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. She wanted to run away and hide, to cry herself to sleep. “Oh Georgia, I’ve done something really bad. I’ve ruined everything!”
“Have you gone with another guy?” Georgia asked her directly.
“No! I don’t even know anyone else!”
“Then you’re okay. That’s the only thing they won’t forgive. Come on, we’ll be late for class. Tell me what happened on the way.”
Dana was already feeling a little better. Shamefaced, she realized she had barely said hello to Georgia since Jean’s return.
“Where did you go at lunch?” Dana asked her guiltily.
“I sat with some other friends. Don’t sweat it. You looked pretty intense. Two’s company, three can be a crowd.”
As they walked through the halls, Dana hurriedly explained that she had broken a promise—for very good reasons—and had then tried to exclude Jean from something she thought wouldn’t be good for him.
“The situation sounds serious, but not hopeless,” Georgia said thoughtfully. “I recommend some damage control. Groveling and apologies. With regards to the broken promise, you owe him one. You need to restore his trust. As for you deciding what’s best for him, have to say I’m on his side there. One look at that guy should tell you he’s man enough to make his own decisions. Will I call you tonight?”
“Please,” said Dana, with relief. “And thank you so much. You’ve saved my life!”
“What are friends for?” Georgia laughed.
When Dana left for home that afternoon, she was more than grateful to Georgia. Her friend had kept giving her pep talks in between classes, and she had needed them. Jean ignored her throughout the day and turned away whenever she tried to approach and apologize. When the final bell rang, he disappeared without a backward glance.
Outside the school, Georgia’s good-bye was heartening. “I’ll call you after supper!”
Half-glad, half-sad, Dana walked to the subway. While things couldn’t be worse with Jean, things were great between Georgia and her. At the same time, Dana knew she couldn’t get bogged down in her personal life. She had work to do. During her time with the Old Ones, she had learned a lot, including the fact that the Book of Dreams was to be found in the South, the final direction. Like all things sought, it is near you, they had said. That made sense, of course. The quest had brought her full circle. A journey was not completed until you returned home.
She would go hunting that night. She would journey out into the land around her.
Lost in thought, Dana didn’t notice the bag lady right away. Seated on a bench in front of the subway station, the old woman was surrounded by plastic bags stuffed with clothes, bric-a-brac, dishes, and blankets. All her worldly possessions. Dana rummaged in her school bag for some money.
The bag lady appeared to be napping. Her head rested on her chest and her eyes were closed. She wore a tatty coat of glossy black fur that looked like old feathers. Wisps of gray hair escaped from a floppy wool hat. Her face was crinkled like a dried apple.
As Dana slipped the dollars into her hand, the old woman opened one eye to peep at her. A black beady eye.
“Stay out of the tunnels, dearie. There’ll be trolls today.”
“What! What did you say?”
The eye fluttered shut again. The bag lady tucked her chin into her shoulder, the way a bird tucks its head underwing.
Dana entered the TTC station and made her way through the turnstiles. Had she heard right? Did the old lady say “trolls” or “tolls”?
On the train, Dana looked around with more attention than usual. Everything seemed normal. It was a new train, sleek and silver, with plush red seats and a gray-and-white speckled floor. As if to prove its worth and youthfulness, it hurtled through the tunnels at high speed. The metallic wheels squealed and scraped, the carriages tipped sideways as they careened around corners. The passengers looked normal, too, all ages and races, casually dressed as Canadians tended to be, some more muffled than others against the fall weather. The interior of the train was warm. Dana unbuttoned her jacket. Two kids ran up and down the aisle, swinging on the poles. Across from her, a young man petted the huge dog seated on the floor beside him. The animal had an intelligent face and was watching everyone closely. It gave Dana a particularly knowing look.
The train arrived in each station on a blast of wind and left the same way. After several stops with no surprises, Dana relaxed her guard. The rocking motion of the carriage lulled her into the train’s routine: stopping and starting, doors swishing open and closed, automatic chimes heralding the recorded warnings. The doors are now closing! Stand clear of the doors! She fell into a half-doze. Shortly after St Patrick’s station, she came to with a start.
The train had come to a halt inside the tunnel.
Darkness pressed against the windows like black water. In a calm flat voice, the conductor announced over the intercom that the delay was due to a mechanical fault. He asked for patience and would keep them informed. The other passengers seemed unconcerned, continuing to do what they were doing to pass time in transit. Some read newspapers or books. Others stared blindly at the floor or ceiling. A few read the ads for the umpteenth time, while one or two studied the other passengers surreptitiously. Most wore a look of patient boredom. A few were asleep.
Only Dana showed any anxiety. She knew something was wrong.
Peering out the window, she craned her neck in an attempt to see down the track.
A familiar voice sounded behind her.
“Troll attack, eh? They’re always causing delays on the subway. They get bored and up to mischief. Idle hands are the devil’s work, as my old mother used to say.”
Dana spun round. The little brown man was grinning at her. He still had the Walkman and the dark glasses, but now he was dressed bizarrely in pink. A pink coat with padded shoulders and silver buttons matched pink baggy pants. He also sported a pink hat and kid gloves of pink leather. Even his running shoes were pink, with sparkly laces. Her jaw dropped as she gaped at his outfit.
“A secure man wears pink,” he said, catching her look.
“I’ve been so hoping to meet you again! I’m always looking out for you. I wanted to thank you for the advice about my friend. What’s your name?”
“Trew,” he said. “That’s my name. What’s yours?”
“Dana,” she answered. “But I thought you’d know that.”
He peered over the rim of his sunglasses. The eyes were wide and innocent.
“How would I know your name? Aren’t you a complete stranger to me?”
Dana was nonplussed. Were her suspicions wrong, or was he being coy?
“We gotta go,” he said. “They’re comin’ for ya.”
She jumped up immediately. The warning sounded sincere as well as ominous. She didn’t think to doubt him.
“Don’t get me wrong. It’s not that trolls are bad,” he explained. “They just get their kicks stallin’ the trains. They like to watch people get all frustrated, lookin’ at their watches, swearin’ and whatnot.” He did a good imitation of a harassed commuter. When Dana laughed he said, “See? Trolls find it even more hilarious.”
All the time he was talking he led her through the train, opening the doors between carriages officially used by transit staff only. No one paid them any attention. Teenagers were always walking between the cars. When they reached the last carriage, Trew opened the door at the end of the car and jumped onto the tracks. He offered his hand to help Dana down.
“Don’t go anywhere near that bar on the side or you’ll be electrocuted. ‘Fire-fried’ as the trolls say.”
The tracks were black as soot. With the fluorescent lighting, the tunnel glowed eerily, like a secret labyrinth. The walls crawled with wires and cables. A musty wind blew down the passageway. Trains rumbled like thunder in the distance. Far ahead, at the end of the darkness, the light of the next station flickered like a beacon.
Trew frowned as he looked up and down the track. A new sound echoed through the dimness. The low boom of drums. It was a threatening sound. The beat of ill intent.
Trew grabbed Dana’s hand.
“As I was saying”—he puffed as they ran down the track, away from the drumming—“usually the trolls are not much more than a big fat nuisance. But they’re easily influenced. And right now the troll patrol are under a very bad influence indeed.”
“Crowley!”
“Who?”
“The monster who wants to kill me.”
“That sounds about right.”
Running hard to keep up with the little man, Dana was glad to note that he knew the tunnels well. He rushed her over tracks, around bends and twists, and along workmen’s walkways. When the drums died out behind them, she sighed with relief.
But not for long.
More drums boomed. This time ahead of them.
Trew stopped abruptly and cocked his head to listen. Were they calling to the others? Sure enough, drums now beat on either side of them, growing steadily louder as they closed in.
“We’re trapped!” Dana whispered.
Swearing under his breath, Trew searched the soot-covered wall beside them. Now he pushed against a large brick. A door swung open, revealing stone steps that ran downward into a pitch-black hole. A stale smell wafted upward.
Trew disappeared into the murk, but Dana hesitated. She could see nothing below.
“Come on! There’s no time! They’re coming!”
He was right. She could hear the drums on both sides. So near! And another sound accompanied them. The tramp of heavy feet. They would soon be on top of her.
The moment Dana stepped into the shaft, the door slammed shut behind her. She was plunged into darkness. Putting her hands together, she made enough light to see the stairway underfoot. The shaft went down at least twenty feet.
Trew’s voice called up encouragement.
“It’s brighter down here! Quick! The trolls know the doors too!”
Hurrying gingerly down the steps, she was amazed to find herself in an underground cavern as big as the subway station above. The walls and roof were of rock, covered with a phosphorescent lichen that glowed greenly in the dark. A maze of passages ran off in all directions.
“These tunnels are older than the human ones,” Trew told her. “There was a lot of worry when the subway was being built. What if the workers dug deep enough to find us? Rumors of war were rife. ‘The trolls will protect their own’ and so forth.” Trew let out a laugh. “The only thing that happened was entertainment. Trolls love causing trouble on the system.”
They ran through cavern after cavern, each identical to the last.
“Trolls know tunnels like the back of their hand,” Trew told her. “The way you know the streets you live on.”
“Where do they live?” Dana wondered.
“Farther in and further down,” came the answer as they hurried on.
After what seemed an endless chain of caverns, the ground began to rise. They were heading upward. Though she had managed to keep pace with him till then, Dana begged Trew to slow down. Her lungs were bursting. Her legs ached. She was certain they had covered a few miles.
“Nearly there,” he panted.
“Where’s … there?” she demanded.
“Scarberia. The east end.”
To Dana’s relief, they slowed to a quick walk.
“I think we shook them off,” Trew said with a glance over his shoulder.
Then he let out a yelp.
Looking back, Dana cried out too.
Only a short distance behind was a band of trolls, quickly gaining on them. Dana’s heart stopped. There were only four, but each was tall and broad, with hunched shoulders, belly-white skin, and black lidless eyes. All wore soot-covered Toronto Transit Commission uniforms, with jackets and caps. She might have laughed, if they hadn’t looked so sinister. They bristled with crude weapons— hatchets, hammers, and even a broadsword. There was a mindless resolve to the way they charged. And now she saw why neither Trew nor she had heard them. Trouser legs rolled up, they were running in their bare feet. Somehow the sight of curled and dirty toenails made it all the worse.
“Up and out!” Trew cried. “They hate the light!”
Moments before, Dana was sure she couldn’t have run another step. Now she sprinted off, with Trew beside her. Behind them came no drum or footstep, only the foul breaths of their pursuers.
“Where’s the steps? Where’s the door?” Dana hissed to Trew.
“No … amenities … the ’burbs …” he answered in fits.
At last she understood what he meant. There was no stairway to lead them out. The ground rose in a steep incline that finally reached a door with an iron bar across it.
Trew grabbed at the bar to lift it. Dana glanced behind. The trolls were there behind them! One reached out for her. Trew pushed the door open. With a scream, Dana hurled herself through the opening, on top of Trew. They tumbled out together on the other side, sprawling on the ground.
“Close it!” Trew roared, as a dead white hand clutched at the air.
Scrambling to her feet, Dana slammed the door shut.
They were back in the regular subway tunnels. Hurrying along the tracks, they came to the spacious and airy Warden station. But not until they were outside in the fresh air did Dana stop looking behind her.
Though it was late afternoon, the light seemed very bright after the dim tunnels.
“Stay out of the subway for the rest of the day,” Trew said. “Once the troll patrols know they’ve lost you, they’ll go bonkers altogether. Throw the whole system into mayhem, you betcha.”
“I don’t know how to thank you,” Dana said. She rummaged through her pockets and pulled out a chocolate bar. “How about this?”
The little man admired the shiny gold wrapper and was even more pleased as he bit into the chocolate.
“I love this stuff,” he said, “big-time.”
“Can I ask you something?” She hesitated, not wanting to offend him. “Why did you help me?”
He peered at her over his shades. The earth-brown eyes regarded her thoughtfully.
“Do you think this is all about you, girl? You’re not the only one who cares about dreams, eh? There’s no neutral ground in this kind of war. You sit on the fence, you get splinters in your bum. But it’s a sign of just how desperate your enemy’s gettin’ if he’s callin’ on the trolls. Scrapin’ the bottom of the barrel now. You’ve got him rattled, that’s for sure.”
“I think he’s underestimated all the people against him,” Dana said.
“He’s underestimated you, that’s for darn sure,” said Trew. Again he peered at her over his glasses. “Now, there’s one more bit I gotta do for you afore I go. You know the thing you’re lookin’ for? It’s near all right, but it ain’t here in Trawna. It’s in a place called the Plain of the Great Heart.”
“The what?” she said. “Where?”
“That’s all I know.” He shrugged. “A little birdie told me. I don’t get out of the subway much.”
He was shifting from foot to foot. Dana could see he was uncomfortable outdoors. Even with the dark glasses, he was squinting in the sunlight.
“That’s Warden Woods,” he said suddenly, pointing across the road.
Dana looked over at the plot of trees rising behind a tall wired fence.
“Your friend’s in there. That’s why I brought you. Between you and me, some last advice. I see a lot ridin’ the Rocket. The good, the bad, and the ugly. He’s good for you. Don’t turn him away. Nobody said you gotta do this alone.”
Dana shielded her eyes against the sun as she stared into the trees. She couldn’t see anyone.
“Do you mean Jean?” she turned to ask, only to find herself talking to thin air.
A quick look around showed no sign of Trew. For a little man, he could really move fast. What exactly was he? Dana shrugged to herself. Whatever he was, she felt she could trust him.
Crossing the road, Dana found a gate in the fence that allowed her into the woods. The ground was damp and fragrant from the rain the day before. The October sun lit up the trees that still had their leaves. Red and gold flecks brightened the rusty brown of aspen and birch. Where the branches were bare, the autumn sky shone through. The sound of traffic beyond the woods grew muffled. In its place, she heard birds calling and the scurry of squirrels on the ground.
She found him leaning against a tree, staring up at the sky. He wore a navy-blue scarf around his neck and his hands were plunged inside the pockets of his jacket. Her heart beat quicker as she looked at him: the fall of dark hair over his eyes, the lean features. Every time she saw him, she felt the same skip of her heart, as if she hadn’t seen him in ages.
He looked lost in thought. Deep, sad thoughts.
A twig snapped underfoot as she walked toward him. He responded to the sound, meeting her eyes, but he wasn’t surprised. She knew the wolf in him had caught her scent on the air.
Neither spoke as they put their arms around each other. He rested his head on her shoulder even as she rested hers against his.
“I had to go west,” she told him quietly. “Even though I made that promise to you. I couldn’t tell you. You had your own problems. Everything’s happening so quickly. I’m just trying to keep up. I’m sorry for telling you what to do. That was stupid. I’d really like if you would do this with me.”
His features softened as he took her head in his hands and gazed at her. There was no anger in his look, only the same sadness she had noticed before.
“I am sorry also,” he said. “You take a lot on your back. I don’t want to add to the problem you have. I want to help.” He touched her hair lightly and kissed her forehead. “I’m angry that time because I’m not there with you. I have fear for you. This is chauvin, no? You are strong, but still I want to save you.”
His smile was wry and it made her grin. They both ended up laughing and then they stopped laughing so they could kiss.
“How do you know I am here?” he asked her as they walked through the woods, hand in hand. “This is a place I like to come when I am wolf.”
She told him about Trew and about the trolls in the subway. When she described the tunnels beneath the tunnels, he shook his head, amazed.
“There is so much we don’t see, eh?”
He put his arm around her. Her heart felt as if it might burst. It was so good not to be fighting, to be together again.
Since they couldn’t take the subway home, they traveled the long way on buses and streetcars. Dana didn’t mind. It gave her more time with him. And she was able to bring him up to date with the story.
“But Ms. Woods not come back to school, n’est-ce pas? Where is she now? And this other person, Laurel?”
“I don’t know,” said Dana. “With the Old Ones. Oh, and there’s another thing. Trew says the Book of Dreams is nearby. In a place called the Plain of the Great Heart. Did you ever hear of it?”
Jean shook his head. “It sounds like a Native name. I ask Roy and the Old Man.”
When it was time for them to go their separate ways, he caught hold of her again and held her close. She was the one who kissed him first.
“I call you tonight,” he said, when they finally broke apart.
• • •
By the time Dana got home, dusk had fallen over the city and the streetlights were on. She hurried in the door, all apologies.
“Don’t tell me, I know,” said her father. “Radhi’s only in ahead of you. It’s all over the news. The subway’s in chaos. Breakdowns everywhere. Were you hours in the tunnel?”
“It seemed like ages,” Dana said truthfully.
“I’ve got a pot of ratatouille simmering. Grate me some cheese and set the table.”
It was after supper, when Dana was doing her home-work, that the telephone rang. Thinking it was Jean or Georgia, she raced to get it.
Gran Gowan’s voice came on the line. “I’m getting in an early invite, what with you skipping out on my Thanksgiving dinner. Are you coming up to me for Halloween? I won’t have you trick-or-treating in Toronto. There are all kinds of bad people there who put razor blades in apples and rat poison in the candies.”
Dana laughed. “I don’t go trick-or-treating, Gran. I’m too old for that.”
She was thinking fast. She had to dodge her grandmother’s invitation. There was no time for a visit, especially on the day she had to restore the portals!
“You’ll love how we celebrate it here,” Gran Gowan was saying. “The whole village turns out. There are bonfires and plenty of hot chocolate to keep the kids warm. There’s a haunted house for the youngsters and the Headless Horseman gallops down Mill Street …”
Dana opened her mouth to speak, but in vain.
“The King of Creemore does that,” her grandmother continued. “Puts on a great show. We like to do the whole kit and caboodle here in the place of ‘the big heart.’”
Dana nearly dropped the receiver.
Why was the truth always so obvious that you inevitably overlooked it? Why could one never see the forest for the trees? Despite all her questing and Grandfather’s point about belonging to the land, she still hadn’t grasped it. The answer was right in front of her, and in Irish to boot! There was a place in southern Ontario that she herself belonged to more than any other part of Canada. A place where her own family had stayed on the land for generations.
Creemore. Croí mór. Great heart.
Dana’s mind raced. Halloween was two weeks away. She needed to get up there as soon as possible to search for the book. Surely Creemore would yield the secret to one of its own? As soon as the Book of Dreams told her how to restore the portals, she would use her power to do it on the feast of Oíche Shamhna.
“Gran, could I stay this weekend? And again at Halloween?”
“You know I’d love that!” Her grandmother was delighted. “We can make pumpkin pies. As long as your father agrees, of course.”
“He won’t mind,” Dana assured her. “He and Radhi could do with some time together. With the baby coming, I’m sure—”
The arch in Gran Gowan’s voice crackled on the wire.
“Oops,” said Dana.
“Put your father on this instant.”