Twiceborn (29 page)

Huh. I was a fine one to talk. At least the partygoers weren’t digging up any gravesites.

Behind me Garth settled into a steady rhythm: the regular thunk of the shovel biting into the ground, followed by the scatter of dirt. It sounded loud in the still, oppressive air; I looked around nervously, but no one leapt out of the bushes demanding to know what we were doing.

After a time I mastered my dread enough to join him. Better to get this over with as quickly as possible. My nerves were shattered. I’d seen no signs of security, but that could change at any moment. With two of us working, we were soon down three feet or so, and Garth jumped into the hole to continue.

There wasn’t room for both of us in there. The big werewolf took up a lot of space. I watched for a while, then wandered over and sat on a low garden wall, flexing my sore fingers.

Where was Ben? The fact I’d run out on him ate at me, even though it had really been Leandra doing the running. The more time passed without hearing from him, the more anxious I felt. I needed to know he was safe, needed to feel his arms around me again.

He’d adored Lachie, treating him like a favourite nephew. He’d understand how hard it was for me just to be here. And the night at Avoca had only deepened our bond. Garth was a handy guy to have around, but Ben had a place in my heart no one else could fill.

Only Garth’s head and shoulders were visible now, and the mound of dirt beside the grave grew rapidly. I hugged myself tightly, sick with nerves. No mother should have to do this. What was in that coffin?

I’d stopped noticing the noise from the party. But now new noises appeared: low voices murmuring, and a nervous giggle, quickly hushed.

My head whipped around. Still some distance away, but coming closer, a couple meandered along the path, arms around each other, heads close together. They weren’t quite steady on their feet. The man said something and the nervous giggle sounded again. They stopped for a kiss, then decided they still weren’t far enough away from their friends and kept moving.

“Garth! Someone’s coming.”

The shovel clunked against something solid. Garth straightened as the two lovebirds came to an uncertain halt.

“What was that?” asked the girl.

“Probably a possum or something.” Her companion tried to distract her with another kiss.

I threw a panicked look at Garth. What should we do? They’d be on us in another few steps, and there was no hiding what we’d been up to. Garth’s eyes gleamed yellow, and he growled, a low warning rumble in his chest.

“That wasn’t a possum!” the girl squeaked.

“It’s only a dog. Nothing to be scared of. Come over here; the grass is nice and soft.”

The would-be Romeo led her off the path. Still much too close. Some people just wouldn’t take a hint. It was too dark to be sure, but I thought Garth rolled his eyes.

He dropped out of sight into the pit and I heard the tell-tale crunch of bones moving and realigning.

“I’m scared.” The girl sat up and looked around, searching for the source of that unnerving noise. I couldn’t blame her. I’d heard it several times myself and every time it gave me the horrors. “Let’s go back.”

Whatever the man might have said was lost as the werewolf leapt from the grave with a snarl and stalked across the grass toward them. It scared even me; I felt almost sorry for them as the girl screamed in pure terror and fled down the path. Her boyfriend obviously decided dogs might be something to be frightened of after all. He took off after her without stopping for a closer look.

The wolf loped after them, probably to make sure they didn’t come back. That didn’t seem likely, unless they brought a bunch of braver friends with them.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Garth.”

If a mob descended on us we’d be worse off than before. I jumped down into the hole and hurled Garth’s clothes up on to the grass. With a bit of luck everyone would think it nothing more than a drunken story. And who’d want to leave the party to go searching for some scary dog? Surely it was time we had some luck?

I cleared the top of the coffin with another moment’s work. It gleamed pale grey through the dirt. It had been white, and so small. I swallowed a lump in my throat and pushed on, digging a spot to plant my feet either side. It was a struggle to clamber back out, and I got a face full of dirt as I flailed on the edge, legs kicking wildly.

When I looked up I found myself face to face with the wolf. I squeaked and nearly fell back into the hole.

“Dammit, Garth! You scared the crap out of me.”

His tongue lolled out the side of his mouth in a wolfish grin. I didn’t like having him standing over me, those big teeth so close. There’s nothing friendly and doggish about a full-grown wolf in your face, especially in the middle of the night in a graveyard. My heart thumped as I scrambled to my feet.
He’s on your side, remember? Calm down.
But I didn’t relax till he backed off.

I got the crowbar and jumped back into the hole. It was dark as the pits of hell and smelled strongly of damp earth. I struggled with the crowbar while above me the horrible crunch of the werewolf change sounded again, followed by rustling and the unmistakeable slide of a zip.

He slid down beside me, human again and fully dressed. “Here, give me that. You’ll never get it open.”

I handed over the crowbar and tried to stay out of the way, which wasn’t easy in such a small space. Eventually he growled in disgust and flung the shovels back out.

“Can’t get any leverage,” he complained. “Hop out and give me some room.”

I scrambled out again, slipping and sliding as the sides of the hole crumbled. More earth rained down on the coffin with a soft pattering. I could feel it under my clothes too, and through my hair. I was dirt from head to foot.

Down in the hole Garth grunted and swore; then, with a rush and a thud, the coffin appeared over the edge like a wooden whale breeching and slammed down on the soft earth. I stared, unable to tear my gaze from it. So small.

Garth climbed out after it and shook himself like a dog, spraying more dirt over me.

“
That’s
more like it,” he said and got to work with the crowbar.

I waited, heart hammering, filled with a sickening anticipation. The whole party could have turned up then with pitchforks and torches, and I couldn’t have taken my eyes from the dirty white coffin.

A sudden splintering made me jump, and Garth laid the crowbar down.

“Ready?”

I wasn’t. I didn’t want to know, and I had to know, all at the same time. But it was too late to turn back now. I nodded, trembling all over, and together we slid off the broken lid.

What did I expect to see? A skeleton, its bare skull grinning at me? My beautiful broken boy, as he’d been when I last saw him lying on that hospital bed? Some horrible mouldering in-between phase? Whatever I’d expected, it wasn’t what lay in the bottom of that coffin.

“What the
hell
?”

I reached in, as if touching it could make the contents into something different, something that made sense. But the sticks remained sticks, and the shrivelled round things which looked like desiccated vegetables forgotten in the bottom of the crisper for months—well, they still looked like shrivelled round things.

Certainly nothing in there had ever been human.

I met Garth’s eyes. My face must have been a picture of confusion. He, however, didn’t seem surprised.

“Thought so,” he said. “Didn’t want to get your hopes up by saying anything till I was sure.”

“Sure of
what
? What the hell
is
all this?”

“Changeling,” he said. “Jason must have faked the whole thing. He switched the real Lachie for a changeling. It’s earth magic. Goblins make them out of plants—sticks, vegetables, leaves, whatever. They don’t hold their form for more than a week or two.”

“So that means …” I sucked in a deep breath and sat down hard among the dirt. My legs simply refused to hold me up any longer. My head swam, dizzy with possibility.

He nodded. “Yes. Lachie’s still alive.”

***

Back in our tiny motel room, Garth disappeared into the shower and I flopped onto my bed, dirt and all, still torn between tears and laughter. Beyond all reason and hope, Lachie was alive—but Nada had him. The bottom dropped out of my stomach every time I wondered why. I had to rely on Jason to keep him safe, and relying on Jason had never worked out well for me in the past.

My baby was alive, and I was so excited I thought I’d never sleep. But I didn’t even last till Garth came out of the bathroom. I only shut my eyes for a moment, wrung out with emotion, and the next thing I knew Garth was offering me a choice of Coco Pops or Weet-Bix for breakfast.

Still on a high and feeling generous, I let him have the Coco Pops.

Our knees bumped under the tiny table. I couldn’t wait to get out of this cramped and dingy place. Not even a hint of natural light crept into the room, but I felt sure that outside the sun would be shining and the sky a blaze of bright blue.

“We have to find Ben,” I said. “I can’t wait to tell him the news.”

Today I couldn’t entertain the prospect that Ben might be hurt or in trouble himself. Today was a day for miracles. If Lachie could come back from the dead, anything was possible. We’d find Ben, and the three of us would come up with a plan to get my boy back safely from Nada.

Then all I had to do was get rid of Leandra, and we could all live Happily Ever After. I tucked into the Weetbix. A good breakfast was so important when you had a schedule like that for the day.

“I rang a couple of the boys while you were asleep,” Garth said. “Sent someone out to watch The Dress-up Box. He’ll let us know if he shows up there.”

“Great. We can head over to his place and see if he’s home.”

He shook his head. “Not a good idea. My guy swung past there first, and one of Valeria’s stooges was watching it. It’s you they want, you know, and they figure the best way to find you is through him. If he’s got any sense he’ll stay well away himself.”

“Right.” I grinned, feeling a flood of relief. “But that means he’s alive, and they don’t have him.”

“Not necessarily. They could have him and still be watching the place, hoping you’ll come looking for him.”

“Geez. Are you always this positive?”

“I’m just a glass half-full kind of guy.”

Jokes from Garth: what had the world come to? Seemed like everything was different this morning, and I was determined to hold on to my optimism.

Assuming he was free, where would Ben go? He had a sister in Camden, but presumably Valeria could find that out easily enough, if she didn’t already know. He could be holed up in a random motel somewhere, like us, or hiding out with a friend. What kind of resources would a herald have, anyway? I had no idea.

If only he had his phone, or I had mine. How did we ever cope in the days before mobiles? Ben didn’t even have a landline at home; he used his mobile for everything. Very convenient, as long as you didn’t lose the damn thing.

“Give me your phone. I’ll try Tanya.”

If I couldn’t go to Ben’s house myself, maybe I could sweet-talk Tanya into taking a drive over there. It was a bit of a long shot—Ben was probably smart enough to realise Valeria would be watching for him. But I didn’t know what else to do. Sydney was a big city. Finding one person among millions was too big a task for two people. And that assumed he was even
in
Sydney.

Tanya’s number rang and rang, then clicked over to the answering machine. Damn.

“Hi Tanya, it’s Kate. I was hoping you could do me a favour … call me back, please, on …
what’s your number?
” I mouthed at Garth. He rattled it off and I repeated it.

Now what? “Maybe we should head back up the mountains.”

“No point. Ben won’t hang around up there, and Luce is no help to us any more.”

“So what do we do?” I had no ideas, but I couldn’t sit still. Lachie was out there, just beyond reach.

Garth shrugged. He was used to having Luce guide him. Being the ideas man was a new experience. “Let’s go see Trevor.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

Garth turned off the engine and got out. Guess that was a yes.

Together we stood on the footpath and looked up at the house above us. Perched on a sandstone outcrop, it backed onto the bush, and its green metal roof blended into the gum trees. Four motor bikes and a beat-up Holden parked on the street suggested someone must be home, though there was no sign of life. Blinds were drawn at all the windows. Narrow wooden stairs led from the street up to a large wooden deck on the front of the house.

I followed Garth up the steps, still uneasy at meeting my former—ally? associate? I couldn’t remember Trevor, but anyone who made it to pack leader was a force to be reckoned with. Even Leandra had had a healthy respect for this man. Now I needed his help, but convincing him to give it would be tricky.

In front of me Garth’s shoulders sat somewhere up around his ears, tight with nervous tension, and his eyes flicked constantly from side to side, scanning for threats. I knew he shouldn’t be here, though on that point, too, my memory let me down, and he would only mutter something surly about pack business in explanation.

I was glad of his company, though. Braving the wolves’ den on my own wasn’t my idea of a good time. They would have heard the rumours by now of my involvement in Leandra’s death, and I didn’t want to be held to account by a pack of werewolves in the mood for retribution.

Seemed like this was the last place either of us should be looking for help.

Empty beer cans littered the massive deck. A spindly plant struggled for life in a pot by the door. Garth leaned on the doorbell, and a buzzer sounded somewhere inside.

“Don’t look so nervous,” he said as footsteps approached. “Remember who you are.”

Was that supposed to make me feel better? I glared. I was Kate, mother of Lachie, and holding on to that truth as hard as I could was the only thing keeping Leandra at bay. Did he think I’d let her loose just to impress some werewolf?