The Autumn Castle (45 page)

Her disbelief was electric. “What?”

“He’s a killer. I saw him murder Kat in the kitchen without even blinking.”

Kat. Which one was Kat? Her head was spinning and it was hard to focus on Eisengrimm’s words.

“For bones?” she said. “He murders faeries for their bones?”

“He murders faeries because he hates them. He bones them for his sculptures. He explained it all as he hung me above this
fire.”

“Then why hasn’t he murdered me?”

“I don’t know,” Eisengrimm said quietly.

“Perhaps he won’t,” she said, fear boiling icy in her stomach. “Perhaps he is in love with me and—”

“It won’t be long before someone notices we’re missing and comes for us,” Eisengrimm said quickly. “You must be brave and
you must be cool.”

Cool! Mayfridh would have laughed, only her throat was too constricted with terror. Her ears rang and her head throbbed, and
a wall of gray descended on her.

“Mayfridh!”

Eisengrimm was calling. What was happening? She shook her head clear, realized she had lapsed into unconsciousness. “Yes,
yes, I can hear you,” she said. “The blow to my head is still affecting me.”

“Are you bleeding?”

She touched the wound. Her hair was matted with dried blood. “No. I’m fine. Are you injured?”

“No, though this fire is very warm.”

“How did he capture you?”

“Mayfridh, he has the speed and reflexes of a beast. It’s uncanny and horrible to watch. He caught me in his bare hands in
the forest and stuffed me in a sack. I didn’t know what he intended, and assumed he didn’t know who I was, so I lay very still
to wait for a chance to fly away. If I’d had any idea what kind of man he was, I’d have transformed to Wolf and torn him to
pieces immediately.”

“And now? You can’t change?”

“The cage is iron. It may crush me.”

Mayfridh felt keenly her body’s own vulnerability; so easily ruined, the life within so easily extinguished. Eisengrimm, her
protector, couldn’t help her. Who else could help her? She had royal guards somewhere in this village, for all they were untrained
and chosen for their good looks. Where were they? Or had Mandy killed them already? She remembered the filthy clattering sack
he’d had with him in the bedroom. Kat’s bones?

“Don’t despair, Mayfridh,” Eisengrimm said, reading her silence perfectly. “He’s spared you so far, he may yet. Someone may
notice us missing and come searching for us.”

“Or Christine,” Mayfridh said, cheering suddenly. “Christine will worry when I’m not back and—”

“No, Mayfridh. Christine has no way of getting to us now. Mandy took her twine.”

Her heart sagged again. She leaned her head against the door and forced herself to breathe naturally. Why was this happening?
A primitive suspicion that her infidelity with Jude was being punished by a vengeful god overpowered her. She groaned.

“Mayfridh?”

She couldn’t bear the terror in his voice. “I’m fine,” she snapped.

“I can’t see you,” Eisengrimm said. “I’ve been waiting here for hours for you to return to consciousness. You must forgive
me for my concern.”

Her guilt intensified a thousandfold. “Of course, Eisengrimm. I’m sorry. I’m well, I’m whole, I’m conscious.” A sob threatened
to erupt through her sentence, and she hitched her shoulders to hold it in. “But I’ve done an awful, awful thing, Eisengrimm.
You will hate me for it.”

His voice became tender. “How could I hate you? You’re my Little May.”

“I did something hateful. In the Real World.”

There was a long silence in the dark and Mayfridh felt the tears dry in salty tracks on her face. She palmed them, sniffed
loudly. “Do you not want to know what it is I did?” she asked him.

“I think I can guess.”

“Can you? Do you think so little of me that it’s the first conclusion you draw?”

“Your voice and your words give away much, and you’ve been in love with Jude for a long time.” His voice was resigned, sad.

“Are you very disappointed in me?”

“It’s not for me to show disappointment or approval to my queen.”

His words, his detached tone, froze her. “No, no. I’m not your queen. I’m your friend. Your very dearest friend. Please, speak
to me freely.”

“Mayfridh,” he said softly, “I can never approve of what you have done. And yet, I can understand that love is a mighty engine
that drives men and women to foolishness and ruin.”

“Are you glad, then, that you are a wolf and not a man?”

“I am glad to be what I am,” Eisengrimm replied quietly, “as anyone should be, no matter what their form or circumstance.”

Mayfridh buried her head in her hands, her curls tumbling forward. “How can you still be so wise and composed, even at a time
like this? I feel I shall go mad.”

“You must take heart, Little May. At any moment, someone may come to find us.”

“I can’t stand not knowing. What do you think he’s doing out there? Is he killing everybody?”

“I don’t know, I don’t understand him or his intentions,” Eisengrimm said, “but I expect we will find out soon enough.”

Christine’s work send-off was ruined by Mayfridh’s continued silence. While her boss toasted her with cheap sparkling wine
and she munched her way through a German pastry, her mind kept reaching for explanations as to why her friend hadn’t been
in touch. Diana hadn’t seen her (it was a mistake to call her, because she had grown extremely anxious and upset); Gerda hadn’t
seen her; she hadn’t sent Eisengrimm to say she was fine. Christine knew that she would have to ask Mandy what had happened.
Loathsome Mandy. Maybe she could convince Jude to go.

She arrived home to an apartment in chaos.

“What’s going on?” she asked, stepping over a bag of rubbish tied up near the door. Jude was in a cleaning frenzy.

“Can you believe we’ve only been here five months and already we’ve collected so much junk?” Jude said. He crouched in front
of the bookcase, pulling out papers and sorting them into piles.

“Are you cleaning?”

“I’m packing.”

“Packing?”

“We’re leaving, remember? We’re leaving as soon as we can.”

Christine slung her purse on the sofa and joined Jude at the bookcase. From here she could see into the spare room. The suitcases
were open, starting to fill up with clothes and books. “Wow, you’re seriously packing.”

He looked up. A lock of hair fell over his eyes. “Is there a problem with that?”

“No, no. I just assumed we’d pack together. In a week or so when we’ve organized the flight home.”

“I’ve organized it,” he said. He rose to his feet and dusted his hands on his jeans. “Kind of.”

“Kind of?”

“We can fly out on Sunday but—”

“Sunday? Today’s Friday. That’s very close.”

“I thought you wanted to leave soon.”

“I do, but . . . Why the sudden urgency?”

“I booked the tickets.”

Christine ran a hand through her hair. If she asked Mandy about Mayfridh tonight, if they had a send-off tomorrow night, yes,
they could make a flight home on Sunday. “Okay, we’ll go Sunday.”

“I haven’t paid for them,” he said.

“Sorry?”

“They cost a lot because they’re such short notice. The airline wouldn’t refund our original tickets. We bought them on a
special cheap fare.” He handed her an old pizza menu with his handwriting in the corner.

She blanched when she saw the figure. “That much?”

“Our other option is to wait a week, and I know you don’t want to wait. I would have put them on my credit card, only it’s
maxed out. I hoped you could pay for them. I mean, seeing as how we’re going to access your parents’ money when we get home
anyway.”

Christine looked closely at Jude. For the first time she suspected that he was nervous. His eyes darted here and there, his
words were quick and rambling. “Jude? Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“No. What? What do you mean?”

She pulled him gently to the sofa and sat him down, sitting on the coffee table in front of him. “This morning you were still
reluctant to leave at all. This afternoon, you want to spend thousands of dollars rushing home before we’ve had a chance to
say good-bye to our friends. Before we’ve seen if Mayfridh is all right.”

“I thought you wanted to go.”

“I do,” she said. The profound and undeniable truth. The idea of going home on Sunday, though only new to her, was dazzlingly
appealing. Her own home, her own city, her own life; leaving all this confusion and wondering behind. “I want to know why
you do. Tonight. When you didn’t this morning.”

His gaze fixed on hers a few moments, and she couldn’t read his expression. Then, to her surprise, he began to cry. She had
never seen him cry before.

“Jude?”

He buried his head in her lap and sobbed. She reached for him, smoothed his hair with her hands, both bewildered and afraid.

“Jude, for God’s sake, you’re frightening me. What’s wrong?”

“I want to go home,” he said, his voice rumbling against her stomach. “I’ve had enough of this. I just want to go home.”

“I don’t understand. You’ve had enough of what?”

“Of faeries and other worlds and magic. I’m overwhelmed by it. I can’t stand to think of it. It feels like I’m going crazy.”

He sobbed harder and she soothed him with her hands, staring straight in front of her. Could it be that Mayfridh’s
believe
spell had a use-by date? Was it wearing off, leaving only confusion and disbelief? Her own sense of belief was still strong,
but she had experienced Ewigkreis firsthand.

“It’s all right, Jude,” she said, “we’ll go. I’m happy to go on Sunday, I’m happy to pay for the tickets. It’s all right.”

He took a deep shuddering breath and sat up, wiping his face with his hands. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“Don’t be sorry. It’s fine. I’m the one who wanted to leave, anyway.” She patted his thigh. “But I’m not leaving before I
ask Mandy what’s happened to Mayfridh. He’s probably got a message from her that he hasn’t passed on yet.”

“He’s not there,” Jude said, shaking his head. “I went up this morning after you left for work, and phoned again this afternoon.
He’s not around.”

Christine frowned. “Where is he?”

Jude shrugged. “Maybe he had something else important to do. We’ll try again tomorrow. He’s always around on Saturdays.”

Christine felt suspicion rise, but pushed it back down. Jude was out of his seat and handing her the pizza brochure with the
airline’s phone number in the corner. “They’ll only hold our tickets until seven o’clock. You’ll have to ring them right away.”

“Sure, of course,” she said, reaching for her purse to find her credit card. “Jude, what if Mandy’s not back at all? What
if he never came back from Ewigkreis?”

“We heard him upstairs,” Jude said. “He’s back. He’s around somewhere, don’t worry.”

Don’t worry. “Yeah, right.”

Those nasty human people have been knocking on Hexebart’s door and ringing on Hexebart’s telephone all day. Can’t they tell
she doesn’t want to speak with them? Can’t they guess that Immanuel isn’t home? They must surely be the stupidest of all races.

Hexebart is bothered by them. She is trying to listen the house.

Oh! Of course! They must be hearing Hexebart’s feet, up and down on the wooden floor. Hexebart curses her own silliness and
enchants the floor to make it very very silent. Then she presses her ear to the boards and listens.

At first, the house is quiet. Hexebart can hear her own heart, beating a dance in her ears. Then a voice, here, there. Sounds
of water running. She centers in on Christine’s voice. Christine doesn’t know what to wear tonight. Jude is telling her she
looks nice in blue.

Blue, blue, Christine trusts you,

Does she know you killed her parents too?

Hexebart cackles at her own song. Delightful, delightful! In another apartment she hears a man whistling, the sound of him
shaving. He is saying nothing so Hexebart centers in on another voice, the other woman, Gerda. Hexebart likes to listen to
Gerda talking on the phone to someone named Garth.

“Of course it’s suspicious,” Gerda is saying. “He proposed so suddenly and now they’re rushing back to New York. I just know
that something is going on . . . Christine doesn’t know, though . . . Well, I think Jude has run into some financial crisis
. . . Yes, I’ve always said that he only wants her for her money. She’s such a mousy little thing . . .”

Hexebart laughs. Gerda is saying spiteful things about Christine, but Hexebart has heard Gerda talking to Christine in a different
voice altogether. Gerda pretends to be Christine’s friend. How deliciously wicked!

But, oh! Hexebart has an idea. Hexebart knows just the punishment for a spiteful gossip. She smiles just thinking about it.
Gerda the gossip, gossiping Gerda, Gerda groaning and griping to Garth. But Gerda will have a nasty shock very soon.

Hexebart listens. Voices die off, doors open and close. They’ve all gone out. Hexebart has the whole house to herself.