Dream House (19 page)

In desperate need of some food to quiet my growling stomach, I walk down the hall to the kitchen, where everything appears completely normal.

It hardly seems possible that I've spent the night lying unconscious on a cellar floor after being attacked by phantoms.

You know what, Amethyst?

Maybe it
isn't
possible.

I grab everything edible I can find, take it all over to the couch with me, and try to get myself calmed down enough to be able to start eating.

As I pick at my food, it dawns on me how lonely I'm feeling. In the hope of finding some substitute for human company, I pick up the remote control and turn on the TV. There's a news programme on, so I start flicking through the channels in search of some cartoons or anything that might make me smile.

As I'm channel-hopping, I come across a morning TV show presented by a loud blond woman, and my finger stops dead on the button.

It's not her who's captured my attention, though.

It's the date showing at the top right-hand corner of the screen.

The twenty-seventh of October.

I look down at my feet, then back up again. How is that possible?

Where did the last three days of my life go?

Disconcerted, I search back through my memory as carefully as I can, seeking an answer to the question, but I'm positive that the last memory I have is from the twenty-third. I've been counting the days that I've spent in this place. I'm absolutely certain.

Feeling extremely uneasy, I tiptoe over to the light switch by the front door and switch the lights quickly on and off a few times, until I see Avery's window light up as well, standing out brightly against the grey clouds dominating the sky.

“Is everything okay?” asks Avery from the other side of the gate.

At the sound of those words, it suddenly seems as though my world is falling apart, and the thought makes my eyes blurry with tears. Avery notices, but maintains his composure.

“What happened, Amethyst?” he asks, a sweet yet concerned tone in his voice.

“I . . . I don't know, Avery,” I admit. A tear runs down my cheek.

“It's all right. Everything is going to be fine.”

I know he's only trying to reassure me, but his words sound so fake that I cut him off. “How can you say that?”

Avery, however, doesn't seem to be listening—his eyes are staring at something which certainly isn't my face. But just as I'm really starting to get annoyed, I realize that he's staring at the necklace around my neck.

“You found it,” Avery whispers, a delicate smile forming on his face.

“This?” I ask, bringing the pendant up so we can both see it.

Without saying a word, he puts his hand down the collar of his T-shirt and pulls out another that's almost identical, the only difference being that his is silver instead of gold.

“Is this Akiko's?” I wonder aloud, without taking my eyes from it.

Giving me a strange look from under his eyebrows that seems to say
Isn't it obvious?
, he nods and slips his necklace back under the white T-shirt.

I take his gesture to mean that he doesn't want to go into details, so I drop the subject, reminding myself that there are more important things we need to discuss.

Avery is gazing off into the distance, far away, at the never-ending fields of this forgotten village. His grey eyes seem darker than usual and his hair messy and tangled, but he still manages to look as imperturbable as ever.

He turns to me and I blush when he notices that I've been staring at him. To avoid making things any more awkward, I start talking.

“Where did you go the other night?”

“Can you be a bit more specific?” he asks.

“When we met,” I clarify. “Down there.”

“I had to go.”

The fact that having abandoned me underground in that creepy tunnel on my own at night doesn't seem to bother him at all, even after everything he'd put me through during that whole infernal day of trying to convince myself to actually go down there in the first place, seems so callous and insensitive that I can't help giving a sarcastic snort.

He hears it, and adds, “I had to. I wouldn't have gone if I didn't need to.”

His words sound so heartfelt, so genuine, that they make me melt. I let it go.

“But I'm here now,” he concludes, reminding me that despite being the one who called him out here, I still haven't mentioned any of the things I so desperately want to talk to him about.

It occurs to me in that moment that every time we're together my brain instantly stops functioning. I can't seem to focus on anything important—instead I just try desperately to escape from the situation that I need to be dealing with.

With that in mind, I finally get to the point.

“I need to know one thing, and I need you to be honest.”

He listens in silence, and so I go on.

“Did—did Mr. and Mrs. Bloom die?”

As I say the words, a wave of incredible relief at having finally got it out washes over me—but the fact that it's a distinct possibility also starts to sink in, and I realize how awful it would be if that really was the case.

Impatiently, I wait for a response.

“I don't know. But I don't think so. Honest,” he says, bringing a hand to his heart.

I smile, both at his gesture and with happiness at learning that Amabel and Marvin are probably fine.

And then, in a sudden icy deluge which seems to have been designed especially to ruin this peaceful moment, rain starts to pour down, and so I hurriedly thank Avery and run back inside the house.

I
FEEL COLD.
Freezing cold. I can't stop shivering, but at the same time I feel sweaty and feverish. I roll over onto my left side, then back onto my right. I cover myself up with my blanket, only to throw it off a few seconds later. My lips are dry, and so is my throat. I raise my hands to my sweaty forehead and feel how burning hot it is.

I go on like this for hours, until I'm finally desperate enough to climb out of bed and get some water. When I do get up, though, everything starts spinning so violently that I have use the walls to keep my balance while I wobble down the corridor on shaking legs.

Surrounded by strange voices and imaginary eyes shining in the darkness, I stumble more than once as I go—but each time I force myself to get back up and keep walking until I eventually get to the kitchen, where I fill a glass with cold water and gulp it down as quickly as I can, desperate to feel better soon.

Wiping away the water dripping from the side of my mouth with the back of my forearm, I turn around, ready to go back to bed.

But then, with an awful sinking sensation, I realise that that's not what's going to happen.

There's somebody sitting in my usual place on the couch, only the back of his head visible.

“Amethyst.”

A man's deep voice.

I back away, edging closer to the corridor but keeping my eyes on the figure.

He turns slightly to face me, and when his eyes lock onto mine, I freeze.

“What do you want?” I ask fearfully.

Breathing loudly in and out, the man waits a long moment before replying, but then says, “Why are you here?”

“What do you want from me?” I repeat, perplexed and feeling as though I ought to be the one asking that question. “Do we know each other?”

“You don't know me,” he answers, staring at me, “but I know you.”

“What do you want?” I shout, more confused than ever.

“I want you to tell me why you are here, Amethyst,” he insists.

I study his appearance as much as the dim half light allows. His olive skin and black hair seem almost to merge into the gloom, and his eyes shine in the darkness, reflecting the moonlight coming in through the big windows.

“How did you get in here?” I ask. As I back off towards the kitchen, I grope along the countertop behind me for any sharp object, but, finding nothing, I keep moving until I'm at the entrance to the hall.

“That doesn't matter, Amethyst,” he says, seemingly noticing how upset I am.

“Please leave,” I say, lowering my voice.

He stands up. He's tall and heavyset, and I can vaguely make out that he's wearing some kind of bizarre outfit and has a shiny white scarf covered with weird symbols around his shoulders. He's also gripping something tightly between his fingers.

The necklace.

Seemingly of its own accord, my hand goes up to my throat in search of the pendant—but the delicate chain isn't there anymore, confirming that what he's holding is indeed the one that I was wearing.

He walks slowly over to the main door.

“I will leave,” he says cryptically, “but you really should do the same.”

He approaches the dining table and carefully places the necklace down upon it, together with a small object I can't quite make out properly.

I follow his movements without moving an inch from the entrance to the corridor. He opens the door and leaves silently, letting the front door swing shut behind him.

As soon as I hear the latch click, I rush over and place my eye to the peephole—but he has already vanished.

As I back away from the entrance I glance at the clock, which reads 5:38, and then direct my attention to the necklace on the table and whatever it is that's half-hidden beneath it.

I place the pendant back around my neck, revealing what it was covering. A tiny object that I study for a moment in my palm: an old key. What does this open? Why would he leave it for me?

I stuff it safely into one of my pockets. I'm already standing by the light switch, so I reach over and do what Avery told me to when I needed him, expecting to see his light come on soon after as usual.

But this time, it doesn't.

Worriedly, I slip on my shoes and get ready to make my way outside. Even though I'm still feeling shaky and light-headed, I don't take anything with me—I just want to get out of the house as quickly as possible.

The setting sun is still just visible behind the hill where, once upon a time, Alfred's house used to be. I stand there for a moment thinking about him and then set off, turning the corner of the house as I brace myself for what I'm about to do.

As I reach the gateway in the back garden, there's a debate raging in my mind: should I wait here in the hope that he turns up, or should I trespass on his property? Is this really so important that it can't wait until later—or can I just cope with it by myself?

Before I know it, though, my hand is on the wooden gate, ready to push it open.

As I expected, the gate is locked, but it's so tiny I can easily jump over it.

Or, I
should
be able to.

But when I try, something stops me halfway.

I lift my hand up in front of my face and move it forward in the air.

When it reaches the limit between our two properties, I can't move it any farther forward—it feels as though I'm pushing against some kind of incredibly powerful wind, or a barrier of soft, ghostly feathers.

An invisible wall is keeping me out.

Amazed by this force, I spend a moment staring at it—or, rather, staring at nothing—before I realize that there's something very wrong.

I'm not going to be able to get over to Avery's side of the gate, I think. And then I remember that I
was
able to meet him under the ground in the old tunnel.

Growing more and more concerned about Avery by the second, I run back inside, pull open the trapdoor by the wardrobe, and—my fears of entering that sinister place once again forgotten—race down the stairs below.

It's so dark that I can barely walk properly, and I immediately curse myself for not bringing anything with me to light my way down here, but I leave all my fears and concerns behind. It's just a long tunnel, and there's no chance of my getting lost, so, feeling my way along the walls, I simply focus on getting to where I need to be.