Guardian of the Dead (29 page)

The male patupaiarehe's body was gone by the time Mark finished his phone calls, presumably by Reka's doing. I found myself grateful to her for that, if nothing else.

Iris packed our wet clothes into plastic bags to take with us, and conscientiously wrote a note for Carla, explaining that the costumes had been taken away for a photo shoot.

‘You're a great liar,' I said.

She smiled proudly.

Then we were outside, shivering in the early morning frost. There were no clocks in the theatre, and no one's watch or mobile phone had survived our watery journey. I looked at the sun to gauge its position, and nearly cried out. Wounded, the sun limped wearily across the sky, bleeding light from great cuts in his sides where M
ui's weapon had struck.

The light was harsh in my eyes, and I quickly dragged my head down. Mark was watching me carefully as we picked our way through the nearly deserted car park.

‘Sunlight's more dangerous in New Zealand,' he said. ‘Highest skin cancer rate in the world.'

‘It's the hole in the ozone layer,' I replied automatically, then paused. ‘Isn't it?'

He shrugged.

I looked up at the glowering sun. M
ui's gifts were apparently double-edged.

We crossed the road to the bus stop, where the display informed us that it was 8.30 am. No one spoke much, and I tried not to look at the sky.

Iris's bus lumbered around the corner. I looked at her, uncertain of what to do. Apologise for dragging her into this? Warn her to stay safe? No, that was silly – she was a sensible person, probably the most sensible I knew. Warnings from me would be insulting.

She wasn't paying any attention to me anyway, poking around in her ruined handbag while the bus disgorged its cargo of yawning students. She pulled out her wallet and handed it to me. It was a beautiful piece of leatherwork, a deep red with a tiny black flower stitched into one corner, only slightly water-stained. ‘I put the pin for my cards in the coin pocket.'

‘I can't—' I began.

‘You will,' she said. ‘Don't even start. I never lose arguments. I'll call your room when I've got the tickets.'

I hugged her, then, on impulse. She surprised me by yielding, not at all stiffly, hands hovering lightly on my shoulders. ‘Will you go ahead with
Dream?
' I asked.

She shrugged. ‘If I can find a replacement Titania who isn't actually stealing human boys.'

I laughed. ‘When I come back, you and I are going to be friends.'

‘Aren't we already?' she asked uncertainly.

‘Yeah, but we're going to stay friends.'

She grinned. ‘Kevin will be so pleased. And then he'll be scared.'

‘It will be very good for him,' I said, and watched her climb into the bus, straight-backed, chin raised, and brazenly ignoring the driver's double take at her curious clothes.

Our own clothes got some comment as Mark and I trekked over the university rugby fields and followed the creek down Behn Road back to Mansfield. More by habit than anything else, I led us over the garden fence and toward my bedroom window, before I realised that school had started, and we could just go through the door.

I walked in blithely, already calculating what to pack.

Mrs Chappell stood in the middle of my room, soft pale-purple cardigan and pearls completely at odds with the blistering fury on her face.

My stomach went into free-fall.

She had clearly been through my room. The bottom bed drawer was open, with the empty beer cans and full bottle of wine lined up on my desk in mute accusation. The mask looked even more beautiful beside them. It was the first time I had seen it with my eyes fully open.

It was calling to me, soft and sweet.

‘Eleanor,' Mrs Chappell said, her voice like chips of ice. ‘Can you provide an explanation for these?'

‘No,' I said, over the singing in my head.

‘No? How about one for your truancy yesterday? Your failure to turn up at our appointed meeting? Your absence last night – to the great concern of your roommates – and your reappearance this morning with
this
young man?' She gave Mark a sweeping up-and-down look.

‘I'm a Mansfield day student,' Mark offered helpfully. He fumbled with his bracelet, and then shook his head at me, frowning. Still out of juice, it seemed. Across the room the mask was gleaming whitely, though the pale winter sunlight from my window had not reached it.

‘Indeed? Then Principal Kerrigan will certainly have something to say to
you
.' She shook her head, blonde bob brushing her shoulders. ‘Eleanor, I am extremely disappointed. Samia observes
hijab
, as you are well aware. Did you stop for even a second to think about what bringing men into this space might mean to her?'

The mask called again, and I gave way all at once. I brushed past Chappell, to her obvious consternation, and picked it up with my bare hands.

The first contact with Mark's bracelet had been a thunderclap inside my head. This was a great ringing of cathedral bells, the connection instantaneous and complete as the mask claimed me and surrendered itself to my care.

Like a shrilling buzz, discordant against that glorious tumult, Chappell spoke again. ‘Young lady, you are in
very
serious
trouble! If you want to avoid suspension or expulsion, you need to start talking.'

‘I'm sorry,' I said. ‘You're right, especially about Samia.' I lifted the smooth, perfect face to cover my own and spoke through the pouting red mouth: ‘But I need you to be quiet now.'

There was no resistance at all. Mrs Chappell went from glaring at me to gazing at my masked face in unfeigned adoration. The mask thrilled against my skin.

‘You will remember that you found nothing in my room.' She nodded, eager to please. I thought through the rest as carefully as I could with the mask carolling joy through my body. I didn't want her to get fired. ‘You will tell anyone who asks that the matter has been sorted out, and that I have gone back to Napier, saying there was a family illness. You'll remember these things, but you'll forget that we had this conversation. And when you leave you will be otherwise yourself.'

She nodded again, still looking as if I were the only person in the world. ‘Go now,' I said, and closed the door in her yearning face as she shuffled backward out of the room.

‘What?' Mark asked breathily, then, ‘What did you do?'

I reluctantly lowered the mask. It protested briefly, then resumed its song in my hands, delighted to be awake again, delighted to be mine. ‘When I wear it, it makes me beautiful,' I said. ‘If I want it to, it will make people want me. And then they'll do anything I want, just to make me happy.'

Mark flinched. I turned the mask over and over in my hands, and felt the ghost of its smile against my mouth.

NOT GIVEN LIGHTLY

I
PULLED OUT MY
biggest tracksuit for Mark and handed it to him, but he stood stiffly in the middle of the floor instead of taking the hint. I saw as if through his eyes the crumpled bedcovers, the piles of papers and texts. It wasn't as if I'd prepared for visitors.

‘Sorry about the mess.'

‘It's okay,' he said. ‘Our place is messy too.'

I thought of his father's neatly ironed clothes and held my tongue.

‘My place,' Mark said. ‘I guess it's just my place now.'

He sat down on the bed with a thump, pain pinching his face closed. I groped for words of comfort and solace, but the truth was I had no idea what to say. I had
thought
about my mother dying many times during the Cancer Year. But it hadn't happened.

Rather than risk saying the wrong thing, I said nothing at all. It seemed callous to kick him out so I could get dressed. My back kept protesting sudden motion, so I found clothes for the trip to Napier as carefully as possible. I was emptying out my tae kwon do gear bag, unused since February, when Iris called my desk phone. Mark started at the sound, and finally snuck out to the bathroom, clothes in hand.

‘You're on the 11.00 am. flight,' she said briskly. ‘Get a move on.'

‘You're a legend.'

‘I know,' she said. ‘Let me know how it goes, with the nation-saving and all. And with Mark.'

‘With – what?'

‘I repeat. I'm not an idiot.' There was a beat, and when she spoke again she sounded wistful. ‘You were hugging each other. When you were sleeping.'

That silenced me for a moment, as I felt warmth wash right through me. But: ‘He's a gorgeous, secretive patupaiarehe boy who tells lies,' I said. ‘And she's a gigantic, socially inept human girl with anger issues. The prospects aren't good.'

‘“The path of true love never did run smooth.” ' ‘That's
Shakespeare
, Iris, not real life. There's no happy ending here.'

‘Sure there is,' she said. ‘Make it happen.'

Taking advice from a woman who, since the age of eleven, had been pursuing someone who wasn't interested in sex was definitely a bad idea. I was tempted to follow it anyway.

‘Oh,' she said. ‘Kevin wasn't here when I got back. He left me a note, so I'm not really worried, but if you see him—'

There was a furious pounding at my window, rattling the glass in the frame.

‘Don't worry,' I said. ‘He's right here.'

Kevin was wearing the green shirt stained with my blood and a thunderous expression, and he climbed through the window with no greeting at all for me.

‘Are you okay?' I asked.

He glowered. ‘No. I woke up in Iris's bed, with wind whistling through the broken window in her living room, and your sliced-up clothes in the bathroom. What cut through your bra, Ellie?' He thrust out his hand, the sad scrap of blue cotton dangling from his fist. I retreated a step.

‘I have next to no idea how I got there. But I think you do, Ellie, and I think you don't want me to know.' He leaned in. ‘I am really,
really
not okay. What the hell happened?'