The Autumn Castle (23 page)

“What is it?” Gerda asked, and Mayfridh could tell that for the first time she actually thought Christine might be in danger.

Jude held out a pale brown scarf. “This is hers, isn’t it?” The awful tremble in his voice touched Mayfridh’s heart. He was
suffering. She couldn’t bear his suffering.

Gerda nodded. “It looks like the one she hangs by the door with her coat. Where did you find it?”

“About a block away.”

“It might not mean anything—”

“I’m calling the police.”

Pete interjected. “Maybe you should wait until daylight, like Mandy said. She could turn up.”

“She could be dead!” Jude shouted. “She could have got up and gone somewhere and be dead, and it’ll be my fault because I
slept through it and didn’t care enough to . . .” He trailed off, his shoulders slumping forward. “Guys, if anything has happened
to her . . . I’d . . .”

Mayfridh knew she could fix it all. In an instant, in a sentence, she could end his pain.

“I’m sure nothing has happened to her,” Gerda said.

“Are you really
sure
?” Jude asked. “Admit it, you’re not sure. I’m calling the police. I’ll go mad if I don’t do something.”

Mayfridh stood up, knocking the table and rattling the collection of empty coffee cups. They all turned to look at her.

“Jude,” she said, “don’t worry.”

He stared at her as if he didn’t even recognize her. It was so icily different from the warmth and excitement of the previous
afternoon that a sob almost stopped up her throat.
He loves Christine, not me.

“How can I not worry?” he shouted.

“Because . . .” she said, then licked her lips. Christine would be angry. But what could she do? It was within her power to
make him feel better, and beyond her control to stop herself trying to please him. “Because I know where she is.”

Christine checked her watch as she unlocked the front door of Hotel Mandy-Z. Five a.m. Good. She was getting the hang of it.
Only two hours had passed and Jude would still be fast asleep. As she pushed the door gently with her shoulder, she assessed
the twinge in her back. Could it be that it was actually easing? Or was it just that the few hours of relief had made it easier
to bear? If that were the case, how was she to go back to living every minute in the Real World once Ewigkreis had moved on
its way? She shook her head and refused to think about it, hung up her coat, and—

Noticed there was light spilling from Gerda’s room onto the landing. And quiet voices, Jude’s among them.

“Oh no, oh no,” she said, hurrying up the stairs. What excuse was she going to make? An early morning walk to clear her head?
A sudden craving for a foot-long at an all-night Imbiss? Moments later she stood at the threshold of Gerda’s door. Fabiyan,
Pete, Mayfridh, Gerda, and Jude were all there, drinking coffee and talking quietly. She knocked softly on the open door.
Jude looked up, and a second later had his arms around her.

“You idiot,” he said fondly, “I was so worried.”

“I just went out for—”

“Christine, I told him.” This was Mayfridh, standing next to her, touching her shoulder.

Christine shrugged herself out of Jude’s embrace. “You told him what?”

“The truth. I told all of them.”

Christine smiled, hoping that Mayfridh meant she had come up with a brilliant, plausible excuse for her absence. “Oh. The
truth? And what . . . what is the truth?”

Mayfridh looked far too solemn, her hand a serious, cool pressure on Christine’s arm. “The real truth, Christine. About who
I am, and about where you’ve been.”

Christine glanced around at the faces in the room.

Gerda scowled at her. “I should have thought you’d at least tell me I had faery royalty staying in my apartment.”

Christine shook her head slowly. “Surely you didn’t, Mayfridh?”

Jude had his arm around her again. “Come on, come to bed. This is too much excitement for me for one night.”

“I’m sorry, Christine, but you would have done the same,” Mayfridh said. “He was so worried, I couldn’t stand . . . I wanted
to let him know you were all right.”

Once more Christine shrugged Jude off, tugging Mayfridh into the hallway with her. “Just give us a moment,” she said to the
others, closing the door behind them. She turned to Mayfridh, who gazed at her with guilty eyes. “
Believe
spells all round?”

“Yes. Though in the few minutes it took between when I told them and when I enchanted them . . .” Mayfridh trailed off and
giggled in spite of herself. “Oh, you should have seen their faces.”

“Mayfridh, you’ve made life so much more complicated for all of us.”

Mayfridh snatched her hand away from Christine’s. “That’s not true. How can that be true? If anything, it makes things easier
for you because you don’t have to lie.”

The door opened and Jude stood there, his eyes mistrustful. “Christine?”

Christine ran her hand through her hair. “I’ll talk to you later, Mayfridh.”

“Hey, Mayfridh.” This was Pete, beckoning to her. “Come and tell us more stuff about faeries.”

Mayfridh glanced from him to Christine and smiled sheepishly.

“Popular all of a sudden?” Christine said.

“The novelty’s bound to wear off.”

“Go on. I’m going to bed.”

Mayfridh entered Gerda’s apartment, leaving Jude and Christine on the landing together.

“Bed?” he said.

“Yes, please.”

They lay for long silent moments awake, then finally Jude spoke. “I was still worried,” he said, “even when I knew where you
were.”

“I was safe. I was with Eisengrimm.” She frowned as she thought about the dungeons, but he couldn’t see in the dark.

He hesitated before answering. “Christine . . . I want you to be happy, but I also want you to be safe. I also want you to
be where I can look after you if you need me.”

“I’m safe in Ewigkreis.”

“You don’t know that for sure. We don’t even know if we can trust Mir . . . sorry, Mayfridh.”

“She’s really sweet, I’ve known her since I was a child.” What would she do if he stopped her from going back? She had so
little time.

“We know nothing about her, or her kind. Until two hours ago, Christine, I thought the only people who believed in faeries
were children and madmen. There’s a lot for me to digest here.”

“But, Jude, it’s so wonderful there. I feel no pain at all, I feel . . . like you feel every day.”

He grew quiet, sighed deeply. “Christine, I can’t stop you going, not if it brings you so much relief. But Mayfridh said that
one day soon faeryland will move on. There’s so much we don’t understand about her and her world. It frightens me. What if
you’re stuck there? What if I lose you?”

She didn’t answer, though she lay awake for a long time. Jude, she suspected, wasn’t sleeping either. Was he right? The way
that time moved there, out of sync and unexpected . . . could she guarantee she wouldn’t be trapped in Ewigkreis, away from
Jude forever? And was it hazardous to get used to the feeling of being pain-free, when it wasn’t real? For thirteen years
she had assiduously taken every precaution to avoid addiction to her painkillers, and here she was, after only three doses,
addicted to Ewigkreis.

“I’ll try,” she said in the dark, not even sure if Jude could hear her, “I’ll do my best to go without it.”

Mayfridh thought she was being so careful. That tiny gap between the bottom of the stairs and the foyer, the only place where
Mandy could spy her, had been crossed with speed and success. But just as she was pulling open the door to the gray and yellow
autumn day outside, he was standing there in front of her, key in hand.

“Good morning, Miranda,” he said, baring a row of small round teeth. “I’ve been to fetch a paper. There is a review of our
gallery party.”

“I’ve got a train to catch,” she mumbled, head down, trying to push past him.

“Would you like a lift somewhere? I can take you in my van.” He didn’t move so she had to brush against his belly.

“I’m going to Zehlendorf. It’s a long way.”

“It’s not too far.”

“I’d rather . . . I don’t want to keep you from your work.”

“Nonsense, the gallery doesn’t open until one o’clock. Please, allow me to drive you to Zehlendorf.”

A door opened above, and Pete called down. “Mandy, is that you? What does the paper say about my installation?”

Mayfridh slipped past Mandy and into the cool air outside. “Go on, Mandy, Pete needs you. I’m just as happy on the train.”

“But . . .”

Pete was coming down the stairs, hands reaching for the paper. “Come on, Mandy, I’m dying here. Did they like it?”

Mayfridh hurried off, not looking back until she was at the end of the street. The door was closed, Mandy was gone. She realized
she had been holding her breath, and let it go with a sigh. Alone with Mandy in a car? She’d sooner sit in the well with Hexebart.

Mayfridh tried not to look like a confused foreigner standing in front of the Berlin train map at Friedrichstrasse Station,
but finally asked an English-speaking passerby to help her find Zehlendorf Station, and show her how to use the ticket machine.
Within minutes, she was off, changed trains with confidence at Zoo, and settled down for the journey to her mother’s house.

Strange how she had already accepted her father must be gone. Why else would her mother list only her own initials? D. K.
Frith. Diana Kathryn. No “J. M.” for James Matthew. Mayfridh realized she was jiggling her right leg so violently it was making
the seat shake. She took deep breaths and told herself to be calm. Look how easy it had been to make all of Christine’s friends
believe.

Mayfridh watched as people got on and off the train, her mind so occupied with hopeful anxiety that she could barely distinguish
between them—so distracted she nearly missed the stop. With apprehension, she stepped off the train.

She could still find her way from the station to her old home. Everything had changed, but she had walked this street so many
times with her parents, down to the bakery and the markets, past the church, around this corner and . . .

There it was.

The house was shut up tight; not like she had remembered it, with windows open and curtains fluttering in the breeze. Except
at night, of course, when her bedroom window had to be checked and checked and checked a third time before her mother went
to bed. The garden had once been open and bursting with hedges and flowers. Now the hedges were overgrown, guarding the door,
creating shadow where there once was sunshine, thorns wreathing the gate, and grass growing over the cobbles.

“Mother,” she said quietly, feeling her heart beating in every nerve. A swell of sadness. She crossed the road, opened the
gate, walked up the path, lifted her hand.

Knocked on the door.

Moments passed. She waited.

Finally, the door opened a crack. A thin, gray face peered out.

“Hello? Diana?” Mayfridh said warily. This was her mother? This pinch-lipped, sad-eyed creature?

The door swung inward. Diana Frith stepped back and stared at her.

Mayfridh held out her hand and tried a smile. “Hello, this is probably unexpected but—”

Suddenly, her mother’s eyes rolled back in her head and she slid to the floor in a faint.

Mayfridh hastily made her way inside, knelt over the woman, and touched her face with frantic fingers. “What happened? Are
you all right?”

Diana’s eyes fluttered open. Her hand stole out to grasp Mayfridh’s, her fingers cold in her daughter’s warm palm. “Little
May,” she said, “I knew you’d come back.”

D
iana served tea in the lounge room. Mayfridh assessed the threadbare sofa she sat on, and the chairs and the dining table,
and recognized them all, faded and worn though they were, from her childhood.

“Would you like sugar and milk?” Diana asked.

“I don’t know. I’ve never drunk tea before.”

Diana smiled and fiddled with the tea tray a moment longer, before handing her a cup. “Try this. It’s how I have it. Perhaps
you’ll like it the same, as we’re family.”