Scarlet in the Snow (32 page)

‘Forgive me, I should never have started, I should have waited, I . . .’ My throat thickened with tears, choking off the words, my eyes filling with the stinging water of sorrow and guilt and lost hope. I looked away so he wouldn’t have to see, wouldn’t have to feel anything he didn’t have to, and I wished with all my heart that I could change what I’d done.

And then he spoke. Softly, wonderingly but clearly. ‘Natasha. Oh,
daragoya maya
. Oh, my darling, my sweet Natasha, please look at me.’

My heart stilled. I could not speak. I could hardly breathe. I turned my head and looked at him. And what I saw in his face then was something I knew I would never ever forget, not if I lived to be a hundred, and it flooded me with a thrilling, dizzying warmth from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.

‘I remember the scarlet rose in the snow at your feet,’ he said, his voice shaking with urgent emotion. ‘I remember the white rose of your story, I remember your sweetness and bravery and beauty. I remember everything but I know, too, how unworthy I am of you. Natasha, why do you ask me to forgive you when it is I who is so –’

‘Hush,
daragoy moy
, my darling.’ I picked up his hand to kiss it, but he gave a kind of groan and pulled me down to him instead, and we were kissing passionately, tenderly. My limbs were melting, my senses reeling with his closeness, his warm male smell, the taste of his lips on mine, my heart singing with happiness. Then through my delight I saw the silver cap flash, and I cried out in warning. But he lifted up a hand and carelessly pulled it
off and threw it across the room, where it shattered on one of the panels. At once, the silvery liquid inside ran out onto the negatives imprinted on the glass, so they glowed with a light that illumined the whole room before dying away again.

Gabriel sat up, smiling a little at my astonishment. ‘That’s better. A good deal better.’ He pulled me to him again and kissed me long and lingeringly. Then, holding me away a little, he said tenderly, ‘You gave me a name,
daragoya maya
, when I could not tell you mine. Do you still want me to be Ivan, or could you get used to Gabriel now?’

‘Oh,’ I said, blushing, ‘I could.’ I’d thought before I could only
think
of him as Gabriel, not
feel
him in my heart, but everything was different now. Everything had changed. ‘Gabriel,’ I said shyly, trying out the sound of his name, which was softer in Ruvenyan. ‘Gabriel, I love you.’

He laughed joyously and drew me to him. ‘And I love you, Natasha, my beautiful girl, flower of my heart . . .’ Time vanished as we lay in each other’s arms, holding each other tight, breathing in the smell of each other’s hair and skin, our hearts pulsing together.

Presently he said, ‘Natasha, my darling, we should get out of here. I used to be able to open this door; let’s see if I still can.’

In one fluid movement he got off the bed, sweeping me up with him. There was no sign at all of the weak, trembling figure he had been as, hand in hand, we felt our way to the glass knot on the exit wall.

‘Open sesame,’ he said, lightly pressing his thumb against the knot. Nothing happened. He tried again but
still nothing. ‘It must have been changed. I should have expected it.’

‘It doesn’t really matter now, my love,’ I said cheerfully. ‘So what if we’re still here in the morning? Once we tell your godfather what the doctor was really doing . . .’ I trailed off as I saw the grim expression on his face.

‘Oh, Natasha, it isn’t poor old Golpech we need to beware of,’ he said quietly, ‘but someone who was once dear to me, who I trusted absolutely.’

‘Celeste?’ I said, confused. ‘But I thought –’

‘Not Celeste – her father. My godfather. The great man, Edmond Durant.’ He bit off the words.

My scalp crept with horror. ‘
He
is the sorcerer? But why would he do this to you? I don’t understand.’

‘Better you don’t,’ he said in a low voice. ‘It’s our only hope now.’

‘What do you mean?’ I said wildly.

‘If you don’t know, then he might still spare your life,’ he said, looking at me with that same expression of loving sorrow that I’d seen back home, in the mirror.

‘No,’ I said sharply. ‘I am not going to let you do that again. We are getting out of here together.’ I spoke more confidently than I felt.

‘If only we could,’ he said heavily. ‘Oh, if only Luel was here –’

‘You have Luel to watch over you, but I have Old Bony!’ Fumbling for Luel’s little box, I extracted from it the single strand of Old Bony’s hair.
It can go through walls and pierce metal and stone. But it may only be used once, so use it wisely
. Well, the wall was glass, not stone or
metal as she’d said, but I knew the time was right to use it. I pressed Old Bony’s hair against the knot.

Nothing happened for a moment except that, under my fingers, the strand of hair grew stiff as wire and hot as a coal. I dropped it with a yelp and it fell at my feet, where it instantly vanished. All at once a rumble started under our feet and there came a high humming sound. The panel shuddered wide open, the glass instantly crazing into a spider’s web of cracks.

‘Quick, before it all comes down on us!’ Gabriel grabbed my hand, and we ran through the opening of the antechamber and into the corridor outside, just as the light-room exploded in a lethal shower of broken glass behind us. Now the whole house must be aroused.

We were halfway down the corridor when Gabriel stopped. ‘Can you hear that?’ he whispered.

‘What?’

‘Listen.’

‘But there’s nothing to . . .’ And then it struck me. That was precisely it. There were no sounds of pursuit – no running feet, no shouts, no slamming doors. Nothing. It was eerily quiet.

Our eyes met. ‘Maybe they just didn’t hear . . .’ I faltered.

‘Oh, I doubt that,’ Gabriel said grimly. ‘And we can’t go out this way. That’s what he’ll expect, and he’ll be waiting for us. But I know another way out.’

Halfway down in the other direction was a door, and behind it, some steps. ‘There used to be a tunnel that leads from the cellar to the back garden,’ Gabriel said, as we headed down. ‘It’s our only chance.’

It was a real rabbit-warren of a cellar, with storerooms leading off each other in a seemingly endless series. In one, there was a shabby old greatcoat hanging on a hook, and scuffed gardening boots underneath. We stopped long enough for Gabriel to fling on the coat and pull on the boots, before hurrying on.

At last we came to a small locked door set into the wall a little distance off the stone floor. Gabriel kicked it open, and we climbed through the doorway into a long dimly lit passage that ended in what looked like some sort of grating, beyond which lay only darkness. The tunnel!

‘We’re nearly there,’ I cried in relief. ‘We’re nearly there!’

‘Perhaps,’ said Gabriel calmly. I glanced at him and saw he was very pale, his eyes very bright. He took my hand. ‘Are you ready?’

‘Yes,’ I said. If he wouldn’t show fear then neither would I, I thought as we sprinted down the passage, towards the grating. Now was not the time to get scared, to conjure phantoms, to imagine that something was following us – something unnatural and horrible. The hairs on the back of my neck rose. I wanted to look back but I dared not.

We finally reached the grating. The bars were heavy, but desperation lent us strength and we soon pushed the grating open and scrambled through into darkness. Gabriel slammed the grating shut behind us, and we sped hand in hand down the dark, musty-smelling tunnel, heading towards the faint light we could see at the end.

Closer, closer. The darkness was ebbing, the light getting stronger, brighter. Stronger. Brighter. Dazzling.
It was so blindingly dazzling we had to throw up our hands in front of our faces.

And then the light moved into the darkness of the tunnel and took shape. There was no doubt as to what it was. And yet still I could not believe the evidence of my own eyes as the huge white wolf loped rapidly down the tunnel towards us.

It moved with animal grace. It made no sound and had no smell, and its eyes shone fixedly. Its gaze held us rooted to the spot, while it advanced with its eyes glowing and tongue lolling, its shining fur sparkling at the edges with tiny pinpricks of light. And then, as it came closer, I could see the walls of the tunnel through its body, as though it had no real form but was some kind of projection.

‘It’s not real, Gabriel,’ I said wildly, hardly knowing what I was saying. ‘It cannot hurt us . . .’ I went to take a step forward.

‘No!’ Gabriel shouted, pulling me back. ‘You don’t understand. Don’t touch it. Don’t look at it. Close your eyes.’

‘It’s a bit late for that,’ said a deep, mellow voice. It seemed to come directly from the wolf’s shimmering jaws. The creature was so close now I could see its terrible teeth and I knew that, whatever it was, it would kill us. Panic
flooded through me. ‘Luel! Luel!’ I screamed in blinding terror. ‘I know you’re here somewhere. Why have you abandoned us?’

The wolf suddenly halted. ‘You really want to know?’ it said. ‘Why, then, so you shall.’

And moving so swiftly that I could not even see how it was done, it appeared behind us, herding us like sheep towards the end of the tunnel. Gabriel took my hand, and I held it tight. We did not speak for there were no words to say. My outburst had gained us a few moments, but we both knew that’s all it would be.

We emerged from the tunnel into the walled garden, and there under the moonlight, the wolf’s shape shimmered and faded, though it still hung in the air like a pale shadow. It hovered by the side of the man who sat at the wrought-iron table, amusement crinkling his eyes and twitching his lips.

‘Oh, what a pleasant surprise,’ he said. ‘If it isn’t the intrepid girl reporter from the non-existent Faustinian magazine, hand in hand with the family renegade.’ He crooked a finger at me. ‘Come here, my dear.’

My hand slipped from Gabriel’s. My feet started to move. I struggled to stay put but I could not.

‘Please,’ Gabriel cried in his own language. ‘If there is any human feeling left in you at all, let her go. She knows nothing.’ If I could not stop moving, Gabriel could not move at all, except for the features of his face, which were contorted with hatred and fear.

Messir Durant’s gaze flickered lazily over Gabriel, but he did not reply. ‘Well, well, my dear,’ he said, as I drew
near, ‘I have to hand it to Luel. She still had a trick or two up her sleeve, didn’t she? Pity she can’t enjoy knowing she helped you fool me, if only for a while.’ He gestured behind him. ‘You wanted to know why she has abandoned you? Look over there.’

I looked over to where he pointed, and the last hope left me.

Five statues in the garden. Five moss-eaten marble statues yet only four niches. I noticed that one statue had simply been shoved in at the end, as though it had been an afterthought. And no wonder, for though the others were the kind you usually see in gardens – nymphs and fauns – this one looked like one you might see in a graveyard. It was a mourning figure of a little old lady, hunched over with her hands over her eyes, as if she were weeping. I knew her at once. But it was Gabriel who spoke first. ‘How?’ he said. ‘How could you do it? She is a
feya
.’ And there was the same bleak hopelessness in his voice as there was in my heart.

The sorcerer smiled and turned to me. ‘He is referring, of course, to the idea that a
feya
cannot be spellbound by a mere mortal. True enough. She cannot be
compelled
. But if she freely allows it to happen, that is quite another thing.’

‘You made her a promise,’ said Gabriel wildly. ‘You promised her my freedom in return for her binding. Didn’t you?’

‘Why, yes, I believe I did.’

‘Then you must do as you promised,’ Gabriel burst out. ‘You must, or you will be cursed.’

He laughed. ‘Cursed? What childish notions you have! There she is, stone. There you are, trapped. Nothing you can do can change that.’

No, I thought, looking sadly at the statue that had once been poor Luel. She could not help us now. And I had given away or used all her gifts. I had used Old Bony’s too. We had nothing left.

Then, quite suddenly, I remembered the feeling I’d had hours before, when I had met Celeste in the garden. I had felt Luel’s presence then. And I had repeated Olga’s words to Celeste, telling her that the difference between good and bad magic was that the former fitted you, but the latter tried to bend you out of shape. Yes, I had used everything I’d been given. All except one thing – the tin box.

I could feel the shape of it in my pocket, pressing against my thigh. Dropping my hands to my side, as though utterly dejected, I positioned my left palm over the shape of the box. I pressed, very gently, hoping against hope that I was right.

I don’t know what I expected. But it was certainly not what actually happened. For at that very moment, a familiar voice came floating through the garden. ‘Papa? Are you there?’

A startled expression flooded the sorcerer’s face. He made a rapid pass with one hand and the wolf-shadow disappeared. Another movement of his hand and my throat seemed to close up, my tongue stilled. Edmond Durant got up quickly, just as Celeste came into view. Wrapped in a velvet robe, with her glossy hair in a net, she looked a little dazed, as though she had just emerged from sleep. ‘Why are you out here, Papa?’ she complained. ‘It’s cold . . .’ Then she saw me and Gabriel. Her eyes widened in shock. ‘Gabriel? You’re awake?’