Don't Look Back (21 page)

‘That's so awful, James,' I said. ‘Why did he put a trap so near Orpheus?'

His jaw clenched. ‘Because it was my favourite place. He put it there as a punishment because I wouldn't go hunting with him. He liked to crush and maim and kill, Sinead, and he wanted me to be like him.' James's face was filled with anguish. ‘I didn't want to kill. I would never kill.'

I was desperate to make this better for him. ‘It doesn't mean your dad's a monster. Some people think there's nothing wrong with hunting.'

James tore at the neck of his T-shirt and I could see a rectangular scar faded to silvery lilac. ‘He hit me with the butt of his gun because I wouldn't kill a hare. It was howling with pain. I should finish it off … I should prove I was a man … Mum was screaming in the background and … I don't remember anything else … I think I blacked out.'

I wanted to put my arms around him but I was scared of getting close again.

‘Mum hated the estate, Sinead. She wanted to leave and take me with her. Dad said she'd have to go to the other side of the world for him not to find us.' James flinched. ‘I guess that's just what she did.'

‘I'm sorry,' I said, realizing how inadequate this sounded.

‘Don't be sorry. I'm glad I know the truth, even if it hurts. The truth is so important. It's what I came home for. That and … to meet you. ‘His gaze was soft and imploring. ‘What I feel for you is true, Sinead … I couldn't fake it.'

I knew that James was drawing me in again, and I was feeling too weak to fight. His lips moved silently and his eyes flickered. I placed my fingers across his eyelids and forced him to close them. He was physically and emotionally exhausted and was asleep in minutes. This was the second time that he'd fallen asleep on me. I tried to forget the look on his face when he told me that he couldn't fake his feelings for me. No one had ever looked at me that way. Emotion compressed my heart.

I jumped to my feet, more unsettled than ever and desperate to stretch my legs. Poor James. His dad was turning out to be a cruel bully – as far from the white knight as it was possible to be.

I felt a lump in my throat and tried to focus on Patrick's clues. Both statues had been found, but they weren't together. I moved from the willow's shade. The white stone was still in my hand. Strange, there was another on the ground. I hadn't seen any others like this. My skin pricked. Had Patrick left them for me? I walked slowly, my eyes scouring the ground. Each time I found another stone my pulse quickened. The trail took me through the trees until I reached a clearing that felt like coming across an oasis in the desert. The pretty glade was so unexpected I could have believed fairies had arranged everything to blend together
so beautifully. The wild flowers were a riot of colour and the surrounding trees young and supple. Two had actually bent towards each other to form an arc, like two lovers desperate to meet. The grass was green and moist, in contrast to the scorched yellow blades elsewhere. The trail stopped. I searched and searched, unable to believe that Patrick would leave me in limbo like this.

I shielded my eyes, gazing further afield. There was a slatted wooden bridge that crossed a narrow, twisted stream that was all but dried up. James's story suddenly came back to me:
Orpheus was allowed to cross the River Styx
. The stones were as smooth as pebbles from a beach, as if polished by water. I walked towards the bridge. There must have been some kind of enclosed garden on the other side. I could see a dense surrounding wall of greenery. A noise made me stiffen, a low menacing growl that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I froze, all my muscles taut, my legs weakening.

The most enormous black dog had appeared on the other side of the bridge. Its back was arched, hackles raised and teeth bared, its lips drawn back in a savage snarl. It had the barrel-shaped body of a small donkey, and the typical oversized head of a bull mastiff, with wide and dangerous jaws. I didn't dare turn around and run because I was sure this would make me an easy moving target. Quietly and without making any sudden movements I backed away, but each time I took a step the dog advanced, spittle drooling in anticipation. I was certain it was about to run at me.
My hands reached behind me, moving aside the shrubs and bushes until I was hidden. I was still too frightened to turn my back on the creature and continued slowly retreating, trying not to make the slightest sound. I barely allowed myself to breathe. My finger hooked some kind of metal ring hanging from a tiny branch. I took it with me but didn't dare look at it until I was far enough away to feel safe. My blood ran cold. It was a round metal dog tag. Engraved on it was the name
Cerberus.

*

James was just emerging from behind the curtain of the weeping willow when I limped back, still violently trembling. ‘I-I've just seen Cerberus,' I managed to stutter, ‘near the bridge. I thought he was going to attack me.'

With shaking hands I handed over the dog tag.

‘This can only mean only one thing,' James said grimly. He looked pale.

‘What?'

‘That dog would never have left my dad's side. Dad must be back. He's probably found out about my visit and he's skulking somewhere in the village, plucking up the courage to see me.' His lips thinned. ‘And I'll be ready.'

I opened my eyes wide. ‘After what you've remembered I'm surprised you'd want to see him at all.'

‘I'm a man now,' James said, squaring his chin. ‘I want to look him in the eye and ask him to explain. If he can't explain, I want the chance to tell him what I think of him.'

I nodded, knowing exactly how James felt. I had similar thoughts about facing Patrick again.

‘What were you doing by the bridge anyway?' he asked.

‘I found a trail of stones like the one you took from the statue. They're all smooth and round like beach pebbles. I thought of Patrick again and followed them to the bridge.'

James shielded his eyes. ‘That's strange because … in a way both statues belong over there … with the dead.'

My heart jumped. ‘The dead?'

James pushed his hair from his face. ‘The graveyard.'

Somehow this didn't surprise me, but I did wonder why James hadn't mentioned it before. ‘Is it a family plot?'

James shook his head. ‘In the Reformation it was illegal to perform Catholic burials, but one of my ancestors ignored the ruling and allowed them to take place on the estate. To keep them secret the graves couldn't be marked. Dad used to tell me it was blessed land and I must never play there; the dead shouldn't be disturbed.'

‘Weren't you ever tempted?'

‘Of course … but a giant wall of holly and poison ivy surrounds the site and I was scared.'

‘Of Cerberus or your dad?'

‘Both,' James answered, stony-faced.

‘Cerberus wouldn't hurt you though?'

Keeping his eyes firmly fixed on me, James arched and twisted his neck. I could see two puncture wounds surrounded by scar tissue. I suddenly realized what he was trying to tell me and my mouth dropped open.

‘Mum told me I was savaged by a stray dog who wandered into the estate, but after today I don't believe her any more.'

‘But Cerberus knew you. Why would he attack? You still don't remember?'

He shook his head. ‘My memories are like … subliminal cuts breaking through a film … the rest is still hazy.

I pulled James by his T-shirt. ‘I have to go back there. The graves might be a link to Patrick's clues about the afterlife.'

James dug in his heels. ‘It's too dangerous,' he insisted. ‘Cerberus could attack you as well. His jaws would make the animal trap look tame.'

These words really hit home. I thought of my recent escape and had to lean against the nearest tree to steady myself. For a moment all the weird things that had happened to me since I began my search for Patrick flashed before my eyes: my brush with death in the clock tower, the brambles, the dragonflies, the animal trap and now Cerberus. Maybe Harry was right and I was in mortal danger. My mind wouldn't confront the other kind of danger I irrationally feared – the danger to my immortal soul.

My face must have given something away, because James came towards me with a concerned expression. I opened my mouth to speak, but no words would come out. It was as though my throat had locked. The sight of James advancing on me rendered me even less capable of speech. He leaned against the same tree trunk, his head angled to
mine and his eyes scanning my face. My legs were even weaker now, but for another reason. One of James's hands gently rubbed my cheek as if to wipe away a tear and then touched my forehead, my eyelids, my nose and lips, as if he was blind.

‘I want to remember,' he whispered. ‘Even in my sleep, I want to remember your face.'

I didn't know that I was edging towards him until the bark of the tree grazed my skin. Our lips touched but we didn't kiss at first; we stayed together like this until it felt as if I was breathing life into James. His colour heightened and the blood returned to his pale lips. When we finally kissed it was tentative, as if we were both scared of our feelings. We didn't close our eyes, and I could see my own face reflected in his irises. It seemed as if the world had stopped revolving, and I could scarcely bear the strength of my feelings. They rose from deep inside and stayed in my chest, suffocating me. Part of me wanted to run away, except I couldn't have left James if my life depended on it. His kisses grew more intense. These sensations were completely new to me and I was glad of the tree for support. We finally separated and faced each other. I nervously touched my lips, which felt hot and bruised.

‘I don't want to hurt you,' James said.

I'd rather be hurt than not have this; I finally know I'm alive.

This admission shocked me. It weakened my former resolve and came straight from the heart, without thought
or deliberation. But I wasn't ready to let him know this.

‘There's Harry to consider,' I said, still wary of letting my guard down.

James's jaw tightened. ‘I'm running out of time. Don't go tonight, Sinead. We need to be together.'

I put my hands on either side of his face. ‘I can't. There're things I have to do and … someone I have to speak to.'

He gave a small nod and kissed my forehead. ‘Until tomorrow then.'

We strolled back to the house together and he left me at the main entrance. I threw myself frantically into work, trying to calm my racing mind. When I had been kissing James it had seemed perfectly clear who I should be with, but I was worried about jeopardizing my friendship with Harry, even though he'd been so understanding. And James still couldn't promise me more time. It seemed such a mess, and I was getting distracted from my mission to find Patrick.

When Sister Catherine did her usual home-time inspection her face wasn't as sour as usual. My work had been so diligent that even she couldn't find fault with me. I was dismissed for the day with what might even have been a faint smile. As I emerged from the secret entrance on my bike the late-afternoon sun made me squint. I began to pedal, a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach about what was ahead. My phone beeped and I pulled over to the side
of the road. It was a message from Harry. He was on a day trip to Chester, chaperoning his sister and her Girl Guide pack. The coach had broken down, leaving them stranded. He didn't know what time they'd be back. I pictured Harry surrounded by tired, whiny little girls, patiently trying to keep their spirits up. He had a heart of gold, I thought, selfishly glad to be let off the hook.

Without thinking, I turned my bike around, knowing I had to see James. As I approached the wooded wall even the griffins seemed to be looking at me favourably. I pushed aside the ivy and ducked through the doorway, the pull of James growing stronger. There would be no need for words, which was just as well because I was terrible at expressing myself. As I cycled along the path I recognized the copse that concealed Eurydice. I was overwhelmed by a sudden urge to see her again, threw my bike to the ground and buried my head among the green speckled leaves.

I was cold. It seemed so long since I'd been really cold that the sensation took me by surprise. My clothes felt damp and I shivered. There was an odd noise close by and it took me a minute to realize that it was my own muffled breathing; my face was buried in the moist grass. It must have rained. I managed to sit upright, flexing my muscles to ease my stiff joints. My arm hurt and a quick glance revealed an awesome bruise, the size of a fist. My mind was befuddled and foggy as I tried to recall the sequence of events. I had been making my way back towards the house when I'd stopped to see Eurydice. Had I fallen and hit my head?

Something else was weird – it was getting dark, which meant that I'd lost hours. I really should get home, but I was still groggy and there was a beautiful sunset – shades of violet and pink surrounding a half-circle of radiant fire. I stared for another few minutes, trying to make sense of it all. The halo of fire was rising instead of sinking and
warm rays were dappling the grass beneath the trees. I looked at my phone and my heart raced with confusion and bewilderment. It was 5.30 a.m. It wasn't evening, it was morning. I must have been here all night, and that wasn't rain on the grass, filling the upturned flowers like tiny silken pitchers, it was dew. I had lost twelve whole hours.

A deep sense of grief welled up inside me as I recalled my dreams. I'd dreamed that I was trapped here for years, trying to find James again. Every season had passed and still I searched through blistering heat, driving rain, gales and blizzards. The ground was soft underfoot with summer petals and then hard as iron with frost. And Patrick had been in the dream. I felt him as strongly as if he was standing in front of me now. He had a beacon, a flame on the end of a wooden torch that flickered to extinction as he retreated through a series of tunnels. He had tried to show me the way, firstly with encouragement and then with growing anger that I wouldn't obey. His firm hold on my arm had turned into a vice-like grip as the roof of the tunnel became lower. I twisted to get away from him and his fingers hurt my flesh. I was choking with panic and I began to claw at his handsome face, leaving deep gouges in his cheeks and neck as though he'd been savaged by a wild animal.