The Gorgons Gaze # 2 (Companions Quartet) (8 page)

“Jane and Anneena got in to see her,” said Col. “They say it’s like a prison over there. The old bat won’t let Connie out.”

“Then we’ll have to get in, too,” said Mr. Masterson, a local farmer and owner of land where many Society activities took place in secret.

“We’ve been trying,” said Col’s grandmother. She got up, went to the sink and ran her fingers under the tap. Feeling the atmosphere in the room change subtly, the others fell silent. The water curled around her hands taking the shape of one of her water sprites until the creature was standing in the basin, his form rippling like transparent silk. Mrs. Clamworthy closed her eyes and hummed softly. All the other members waited reverently for the encounter to finish.

“I’ve never seen her do that before,” Evelyn whispered to Col.

“Neither have I,” Col admitted.

Mrs. Clamworthy broke off her bond with the water sprite, letting the creature flow back down the drain. She smiled at Col and Evelyn.

“Who says you can’t teach an old dog a new trick? It was Issoon’s idea actually. He doesn’t like doing it much, but now that I’m getting on a bit in years, he thinks he should make the effort to come and see me at home more often.”

“What did he have to say, Lavinia?” asked Dr. Brock.

“That there’s no way in to see Connie. The garden’s hopeless—not a pond or a fountain in sight. No access to the water system.” She glanced out of the window at her own garden which was full of running water and pools. “They’re keeping watch as the Trustees asked, but it has to be from a distance.”

“But we all know it’s not enough just to guard her,” said Dr. Brock. “There’s Connie’s training to think about. The Trustees are most insistent that this is not neglected. They, like us, have heard rumors that Kullervo has regrouped and creatures are once again flocking to his side. An entire coven of banshees has recently disappeared—we think to join him. We’ve got to get to Connie before Kullervo or his followers do.”

“That’s all very well, Francis,” said Evelyn, needled by his mention of the defection of some of her companion creatures, “but are the Trustees volunteering to go and tackle my aunt themselves? She sent me away when I tried, so I won’t bet on their chances.”

Dr. Brock frowned. “We know that Godiva is something of a special case. She’ll deny that she can even see them, if I know her.”

“You’ve met her before?” asked Col. He could’ve sworn that Dr. Brock blushed.

“Yes, we used to be friends once upon a time. A very fine girl she was in her youth.”

“Then perhaps you should talk to her?”

“No!” he said sharply. “That would do more harm than good. No, I think we should try something else. Is Hugh still living with her?”

Evelyn nodded. “But I fear that she rules the roost.”

“I’d expect nothing less of her. But I have an idea how we might wrangle Connie out of the house. All we need is the right bait.”

Aunt Godiva leafed through the pamphlet on the national curriculum she had picked up from the local education authority. “What have we come to?” she muttered. “Citizenship lessons—what on Earth is that?”

Connie sat silently at the desk that had been allotted to her in the former nursery, her fingers playing with an old-fashioned ink pen. Godiva would not allow pencils in her class.

“Well, we can forget about all that, can’t we?” Godiva announced, coming to a decision and throwing the leaflet aside. “This is about curing you of the Society. What a young mind like yours needs is a diet of grammar and arithmetic, leavened with a modicum of scientific fact. We’ll start with an hour of algebra, an hour of composition, and an hour of Latin.”

“Latin!”

“A very good subject for teaching intellectual rigor. In the afternoon, we’ll study science and domestic accomplishments.”

“You are joking?” asked Connie hopefully, but her great-aunt’s face told another story.

“I’ve never been more serious in my life. You are suffering from delusions, Connie, no doubt hearing voices and seeing things, all encouraged by those mad people in the Society. Hard application to these subjects will bring you back to yourself.”

The pen spurted ink over Connie’s fingers. “I’m not deluded, Aunt Godiva.”

“I beg to differ. If I took you to any medical expert, they would say the same. What you think you feel during those Society meetings of yours is not real—it’s a form of group hysteria. I didn’t realize it myself at first, but I now see that the Society is a particularly virulent cult that brainwashes its members—dragons and flying horses, I ask you! I’ve no doubt they use banned substances, too, these days to induce even wilder hallucinations.”

“You were a member once, weren’t you?” Connie asked quietly. The mystery of her great-aunt’s behavior was beginning to fall into place.

Godiva stalked to the window and looked out. Her silence seemed to confirm Connie’s guess.

“What is your companion species?”

Godiva swooped around in a fury. “I do not have a companion species—neither do you. The sooner you realize how you’ve been duped, Connie, the better. And my task is to make you see the truth—I’ll do it even if it kills
me!” She was breathing heavily, her hair starting to escape from the tight bun she had pinned. Putting her hands to her head to repair the damage, she continued. “Open your book at page one—start solving the long division problems you find there until I say you can stop. I want you to think of numbers—nothing but numbers.”

The morning was already dragging on when the gate bell rang.

“I’ll go!” Connie said, abandoning her post at the desk, desperate for some fresh air.

“No, you will not, young lady. I’ll go. You never know who it might be around here,” Godiva said.

When she had gone, Connie went to the window. It was raining hard. She could see Hugh had beaten her aunt to the gate and was bringing two people into the house under the shelter of a big green umbrella: an elderly West Indian man with white grizzled hair and a young girl with tight braids. Connie tiptoed onto the landing to listen.

“What do they want?” Godiva asked Hugh as he shook out the umbrella on the top step.

“Hello there, Miss Lionheart,” came the rolling tones of a familiar voice. “I’m a friend of Connie’s. I understand she’s here for the summer and I wondered if she’d like to meet my granddaughter, Antonia?”

Godiva opened the door wider, revealing Horace Little standing on the porch dripping with rain, a girl with
bright brown eyes at his side. The companion to selkies and his granddaughter had come to visit her.

Godiva sniffed suspiciously. “How do you know my great-niece, sir? Are you one of those Hescombe Society people?”

Horace smiled, delighted that the question could be answered quite truthfully. “No, no, I’m from London. I come sailing down here from time to time.”

“Like sailing, do you?” asked Hugh brightly.

“It is a great passion of mine. I was in the navy.”

“So was I! Which ship?” Hugh was clearly settling down for a long discussion of all things naval.

Godiva gave her brother an indulgent smile.

So she does have a weak spot, thought Connie. It’s
Hugh
.

“Well, you’d better ask him in then. You can take him through to the kitchen,” Godiva said primly, watching the pools of water gather on her spotless stone floor.

Not believing her luck, Connie ran down the stairs. “Mr. Little, it’s great to see you!” Horace patted her on the shoulder, looking searchingly into her face, checking all was well. She gave him a small smile. “So, Connie, how are you?” he asked.

“Fine,” she replied briefly, wondering when Godiva would realize that one of the members of the forbidden Society had slipped under her guard.

“Well, Mr. Little, would you like to dry off in the
kitchen?” asked Hugh. “You’re soaked to the skin.”

“Oh, what’s a bit of rain? I’m used to it.”

“Well, a cup of tea then?”

“Don’t mind if I do. Connie, why don’t you show Antonia around? This looks like a very interesting house.” He nodded toward the front door.

“You can take her up to your room,” countered Godiva crossly. “We’ll resume our lesson later.”

Connie led Antonia upstairs to her bedroom.

“Hey, this is really cool!” the girl exclaimed, admiring the many posters of animals, ranging from unicorns to dolphins to seagulls, that Connie had pinned on the walls to relieve the austerity of the room. Antonia sat on the edge of the bed and looked straight up at Connie, her face eager and alert like an otter, twitching in expectation of fun. “What’s it like being the universal then?”

Connie felt a great wave of relief. At last, here was someone she could talk to after days of having to pretend that she was normal.

“It’s amazing. I s’pose it’s a bit like what you feel during your first companion encounter, but repeated again and again.” Connie sat on the edge of the metal table and smiled back as she remembered the creatures she had met over the past year.

“Grandpa’s been really worried about you—they all have. Dr. Brock asked us to try and call because your great-aunt doesn’t know us. He thought Grandpa might be able
to charm them into letting you out a bit.”

“I hope he can. My aunt thinks the Society’s some kind of evil cult—she’s trying to cure me of it. If she suspected he was a member, he wouldn’t be sitting in the kitchen now.”

Antonia flicked through a photo album lying on the bed, looking at the pictures of Hescombe, of Col, Anneena, and Jane. She paused over a snapshot of Scark the seagull, perched on top of his favorite lifebuoy. Connie felt a pang of grief. It was her only photo of the bird. She had taken it before Kullervo crushed the seagull to death for trying to save her.

“Not much chance of being cured, is there? I can’t imagine my relatives wanting to keep me out of it,” Antonia added. “They were thrilled when I turned out to be a companion to wood sprites, as none of my brothers had inherited the gift.”

Connie was interested by this, not having come across a family, apart from her own, where some members did not share the gift. “Hasn’t that caused a problem in your family?”

“Oh, no,” Antonia grinned. “You don’t know my brothers. They couldn’t care less what I do. They have their own life—soccer, music, y’know—they just think my going off to the Society is, well, just my thing.”

“Are there many wood sprites in a city? It must be hard
being a companion to them in London.”

“Not as hard as you might think. Every tree is like a world in itself. Even in London you can find sprites in the back gardens and parks.”

“I’d like to meet one. What are they like?”

“They’re…” Antonia stopped, looked at Connie and laughed. “No, I’m not going to tell you. You’re the universal companion—you can meet them. Why get your information second hand?” She glanced out of the window. “Not here though. Not a tree in sight, is there?”

Connie went to the window and looked out at the sterile garden. That was what was wrong with it: there was nothing wild for any creature to live in. No wonder she’d been feeling so weakened over the last few days—her link to the natural world had been severed.

“Connie,” Antonia interrupted her thoughts hesitantly, “Grandpa told me all about what happened last year—about you and Kullervo. Do you mind me asking what he’s like?”

Connie’s knuckles went white on the windowsill.

“I’ve heard so much about him all my life—Mom and Dad have always talked about him—but he’s never really seemed real to me. I couldn’t believe it when I heard you’d encountered him. I can’t even begin to imagine what that’s like.”

Connie turned to look at Antonia. The wood sprite companion’s face was eager, hungry for information. She
wouldn’t look like that if she had met him herself, thought Connie.

Antonia’s bright expression dimmed. “I’m sorry. That was stupid of me. Of course, you don’t want to talk about it.”

“No, it’s okay,” said Connie with a sigh. “I don’t blame you for wanting to know.” She dropped her gaze to the carpet. “He’s not like any other creature I’ve encountered. He’s dark—like a sea. When you’re with him, you feel like a ship being battered to pieces on the rocks. All you know is that he hates you for what you are—but yet he needs you.”