The Autumn Castle (40 page)

“Mandy?”

“As I came back through the passage, he was there waiting for me. He stole the twine and now he’s gone through.”

“To faeryland?”

“Yes, to faeryland.” She dialed the number. “I have no idea what he intends, or if he knows what he’s doing. But I have to
tell Mayfridh.” At the other end the phone rang once, twice.

“What the hell was he thinking?” Jude asked. “He didn’t know about Mayfridh, did he?”

“No, last time we spoke he still called her Miranda. Hang on.”

Diana picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“Hi, Diana. It’s Christine Starlight. I need to speak to May urgently.”

“Of course. May!”

Christine waited, tapping her foot. By now Mandy would have found the autumn forest. Would Eisengrimm still be there? What
would Mandy do? She wished she could trust him, but he had always seemed so very sinister to her.

“Hello?” Mayfridh’s voice.

“Mayfridh, something terrible has happened. Mandy stole my magic twine and he’s gone to Ewigkreis.”

“What?” It was almost a shriek.

“I don’t know what he intends, I don’t know if he knew about the passage—”

“He couldn’t have, could he? None of us told him.”

“But it was an open secret among us. Maybe he overheard something. Maybe Gerda said something, I don’t know. She can be such
a gossip. I’m worried, Mayfridh. He’s had that weird crush on you—”

“And he doesn’t know I’m here. He’s gone looking for me.”

“Eisengrimm will find him,” Christine said. “Will he send him back?”

“I don’t . . . I’m not sure. He won’t do any harm, will he? I mean, perhaps he’s just curious,” Mayfridh said.

“Probably. I’m nervous about it, though. He practically wrestled me for the twine.” At this Jude’s face darkened with concern.
“Will you go back straightaway?”

“Yes. I mean, not immediately. I can’t. It’s . . .” Mayfridh’s voice dropped to a whisper. “It’s my mother’s birthday. We’re
in the middle of dinner.”

“You can’t just let Mandy invite himself to Ewigkreis without going after him.”

“Eisengrimm can handle him in the short term. I’ll get away in about an hour. Mum’s not going to like it, though.”

“Well, let me know as soon as you’re back in the Real World. And let me know if there’s anything Jude or I can do, okay?”

“Yes, sure. It will be fine, Christine, don’t worry. He’s eccentric and he’s nosy, but I don’t think he’s a monster. Eisengrimm
will keep him safe somewhere until I can get there, and then I’ll send him back.”

Christine replaced the phone and turned to Jude.

“Did he hurt you?” Jude asked.

“No, but he frightened me. I don’t like him, Jude, and I don’t know if it’s worth being at Hotel Mandy-Z with such an unpredictable
person. He’s probably got keys to this apartment. I think we should consider leaving.”

“But the fellowship?”

“You don’t need the fellowship. You’re got an international reputation. You don’t need this gallery.”

“We can’t live off your salary alone.”

“We can go back home. We can leave Berlin.”

“But . . .” Jude trailed off, nodded. “Let me think about it.”

“I’m telling you, Jude, Mandy is more than just eccentric.”

“I believe you. You’re right; we can’t stay.” He didn’t sound convinced.

Christine sat heavily on the sofa. Her back was throbbing, her head was aching, her heart was sick with worry. So different
from the uncomplicated peace she had felt sitting by the bonfire with Eisengrimm. What did Mandy have in mind? She knew she
wouldn’t relax until Mayfridh returned.

Mandy had expected the passage to make a far greater impact on his body and mind. Instead, he took two steps and simply arrived
somewhere else. A rural quiet descended and he looked up to see he was no longer in the Tiergarten. He laughed. “I am in faeryland,”
he said.

He turned in a slow circle, his eyes taking everything in: trees, leaves, grass, sunset. A crow sitting on a bough, eyeing
him impassively. Pretending to be an ordinary crow, and perhaps it was, but Mandy had seen Christine Starlight speaking with
a crow at the end of Vogelwald-Allee and was immediately suspicious. He looked away from the bird, feigning a lack of interest.
Tucked into the back of his pants he had a canvas sack, expressly bought for the purpose of collecting faery bones. He eased
it out and shook it. Glanced at the crow. It had hopped closer. Mandy lifted his left foot, as though to take a step away,
then turned at the last instant and, with lightning speed, reached out to seize the bird. It flapped madly, but Mandy had
it by the leg. He yanked it toward him and straight into the sack.

“Good birdie,” he said, tying off the sack. It flapped about as he slung it over his shoulder and headed in the direction
where the trees began to thin. What a beautiful day it was. The weather clear and cool, the breeze fresh but not gusty, and
oh, the clean air. Mandy took a deep lungful. Fine weather indeed.

In a matter of minutes he spied the castle. Its narrow, crooked turrets rose above him. All that stood in his way was the
rusty gate and . . . yes, with the application of a sharp stone and his considerable weight behind it, the lock gave and he
had entry to the castle grounds. Faeries, clearly, were not fussy about security. Why would they need to be? They probably
reveled in each other’s foulness and saw no reason to hurt one another, not even the queen. No faeryland could possibly be
prepared for the arrival of Immanuel Zweigler. He strode with his chest puffed out. He was the hero of a faery tale, come
from another world to exterminate a terrible evil by turning it into art. Bones, so many bones, must be clicking and clacking
around in this castle, separated from his hands only by a few inches of soft flesh.

The garden was untended and overgrown. He stepped into the shadowy depths of the castle; a dark place with a smell like lime
or damp or yeast. The ceilings were high above him, dotted with tiny windows that barely admitted enough light to break the
gloom. He stuck close to the wall, wary of attracting attention, but the castle appeared to be empty. He stopped and listened;
no sound. Ahead was a long corridor. He slunk along it carefully, peering into rooms on the left and right. The sound of footsteps
sent him for cover in a room that was empty except for a faded rug and dust. He eased the door almost closed behind him, waited
until the footsteps passed, then cautiously reemerged in the corridor. Alone again. The smell of food floated up from downstairs.
Kitchens. His stomach rumbled. He hadn’t eaten for hours, sitting in the park waiting for Christine. It would be his next
stop, as soon as he found Mayfridh.

Mayfridh’s bedroom was likely to be upstairs. He peered up the dark narrow turret, listened for any signs of life. The bird
in the sack had become very still. Either it was in shock or it was trying to be clever. Not clever enough, however. Mandy
pondered: would a crow’s bones be useful to him at all? Probably too light and bendable. Perhaps for some fine detail work,
to make eyebrows or lashes. His feet scuffed lightly on the stone steps as he wound up and up, finally discovering a chamber
decorated in white. He slung the sack on the floor and flopped onto the bed.

Ah, yes. He could smell her. The profane scent of her bones had permeated the linen. It was a scent both repulsive and impossibly
attractive. It turned his stomach but invited his nostrils to breathe deeper. Mandy had recognized onlookers at car accidents
succumbing just as shamefully to the magnetic pull of the awful sight. He rubbed his face in the sheets, his lips, his tongue.
Felt himself grow flushed and sat up, guilty and angry all at once.

Beside the bed, flung carelessly on a low table, a belt of keys. He snatched them up.

Keys to the castle! It truly was his lucky day.

Christine didn’t sleep well her first night back in the Real World. Where falling asleep in Mayfridh’s chamber had been pure
careless bliss, here in Hotel Mandy-Z the ever-present niggling pulls and stiffness plagued her. She woke again and again
during the night. Was the discomfort worse now than it had ever been? Or was her imagination magnifying the difference between
the freedom of Ewigkreis and the reality of the bed she shared with Jude?

She slept fitfully until dawn, then a cold emptiness in the bed brought her all the way to wakefulness. She rolled over. Jude
wasn’t there. At first she thought he might be downstairs in the studio, but then she could hear his footsteps, hear him running
water in the kitchen. Yawning loudly, she eased over onto her back and considered the day. Hopefully Mayfridh would call soon.
Christine would never relax in Mandy’s company again. His behavior yesterday was confirmation of all her worst fears about
him; he was eccentric enough to be dangerous.

The door cracked open and Jude peeked in. “You’re awake.”

“Only just.” She gingerly stretched her arms over her head. “How long have you been up?”

“Couple of hours,” he said, pushing the door open all the way.

“Couldn’t you sleep?”

He shook his head. “Do you want a cup of coffee? Some breakfast?”

“A bit early to eat, isn’t it?”

“Coffee coming right up.”

She wriggled into a half-sitting position and propped herself up with pillows. Coffee in bed with Jude. It made the return
to the Real World worth it. A few minutes later, he brought in a steaming mug.

“Here,” he said, handing it to her.

“Thanks, Jude.” She took a moment to inhale the deep aroma, then sipped it gratefully.

Jude lowered himself onto the bed and lay on his side. “Christine,” he said, “there’s something really important I need to
say to you.”

“Wow, that sounds serious,” she said, putting her cup down.

“It is. It is serious.”

Christine frowned, her heart held its breath. “Okay. You’d better say it then.”

“Christine . . .” He sat up, took her hand in his. “Christine Starlight, will you marry me?”

All of a sudden, her face didn’t seem big enough for her smile. “Really? You’re for real?”

“I wouldn’t kid about something like this.” Jude still looked very serious; his eyes were dark and he wore no trace of a smile.

“Jude, is this what you really want?”

“Yes.”

“Then how come you’re . . . how come you don’t seem very happy?”

“Because you haven’t said yes.”

She ruffled his hair. “Dummy. Of course I’ll marry you. I’d love to marry you. I’d marry you every day until I’m seventy if
you kept asking me.”

Now he smiled, a relieved smile. “So that’s a yes.”

“That’s a yes.”

He leaned forward to embrace her, hard, like he was afraid she might slip out of his arms. She felt such a swell of warmth
and contentment then, like she used to feel back home, before Berlin, before Mayfridh, when the pain was still bad but she’d
accepted it and grown used to it. It had been so long since she felt that way, she’d forgotten it was even possible.

“So when?” she said, sitting back and picking up her coffee again. “And where?”

“Whenever you want, wherever you want.”

“Back home. Soon.”

He sighed. “I suppose we’ll have to leave Berlin. You were right about that.”

Christine felt a twinge of suspicion, only momentary, but enough to take the edge off her happiness. Yesterday she’d urged
him to leave Berlin and abandon his fellowship. Without it, he’d have to go to work teaching art classes or worse. But now
they were getting married, he knew she’d access the trust fund. Convenient timing. That’s what Gerda would say.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“You went all quiet.”

“Just thinking about organizing a wedding. We don’t have to do a big performance, do we?” She was being paranoid. Jude wasn’t
after her money, and besides, she didn’t mind sharing it with him.

“No, I’d prefer not to, actually.”

“Jude,” she said, trying not to sound suspicious, “why are you asking me to marry you?”

His eyebrows shot up in puzzlement. “Why? Because I love you.”

“Yes, but why
now
? Why this morning?”