Winter Door (18 page)

“What are you doing?” Billy asked.

Rage had drawn closer to the bramble gate. The feel of the magic was strong enough to make her skin itch, and her ears felt as if they were about to pop. “I think we should try it,” she said. “The witch Mother told me that the way to close the winter door was between me and the wizard. If I’m not to go through the winter door, it must be that I’m meant to get to the world beyond it in some other way.”

“Maybe this won’t lead us to the same place,” Billy said.

“I think it will,” Rage said. She took a deep breath and shouted, “Firecat! I know you’re here!”

But there was no answer.

“It doesn’t matter,” Rage said. “The firecat said it had a way to get me to the wizard, and I’m sure this was it. Let’s go.”

Billy reached out at the last minute and caught hold of her mittened hand. She looked back at him in surprise. He shrugged. “We don’t want to get separated.”

She smiled and squeezed his hand. “Together, then,” she said. She reached out to push at the icicles, expecting them to snap, but they were surprisingly strong. She pushed harder, then she let go of Billy’s hand and pushed with both hands.

“Let me try,” Billy said. He shoved at the icicles with his strong shoulder. But not even one icicle cracked. Billy took off his mittens and touched the bars of ice. Then he looked at Rage. “Maybe the dream is reflecting the fact that the wizard didn’t get rid of the door but only blocked it,” Billy said. “If it were closed, I couldn’t have smelled my way here.”

“But this is a dream door,” Rage murmured. She stopped because the mist about them had thickened so much that she could no longer see Billy. “Billy?” Her voice sounded flat and small, as if the mist had sucked the power out of it.

“I’m here,” Billy said, but he sounded strange, too, and farther away than he ought to sound.

“We’d better hold hands again,” Rage said, trying to see him.

“Rage?” Billy called, as if he hadn’t heard her.

Her heart speeded up. “Billy?” Her voice sounded frightened.

No answer.

“Billy!” she screamed. For a moment, the mist thinned, and there was no sign of the bramble gate and no sign of Billy. There were only snowy hills and dark shapes that she hoped were trees or bushes. But she couldn’t help thinking of the creatures that had chased her and Logan, and as if her thought had conjured them up, she heard a low growling.

Her heart almost leapt out of her chest at the knowledge that this time she would have to face them without Logan. Then to her astonishment, she saw Logan standing in front of her looking bewildered.

“Rage?” He was squinting as though he could hardly see her.

“Logan—” she began, then they both heard the growling again.

“Oh Jesus, this is a nightmare,” Logan groaned.

Rage didn’t know what it was, but they had to get away. She pictured the playground, and just like that, they were both there. But it was night again, and she sensed the nightmare beasts wouldn’t be far behind them. Logan was staring about in a dazed fashion. Rage wondered where Billy was, and abruptly he appeared at her side.

He stared at Logan and then smiled sweetly at him. “I remember you. You smell of biscuits.”

Logan’s mouth dropped open, and he switched his green gaze to Rage. “What kind of dream is this?”

“Sssstupid ragewinnoway,” a voice hissed.

Rage’s heart leapt. “Firecat! I’m so glad you have come back,” she cried quickly, searching for the confusion of air that would reveal the presence of the firecat. But there was nothing. “Listen, I’m really sorry I was so rude to you before. Won’t you tell me your message?”

“Wizard needing help,” the firecat spat. “Maybe too late for him now. Your fault!”

“Firecat, did you go into Elle’s dreams and tell her that the wizard needed help?”

“Ssstupid elle not helping wizard,” the firecat snarled. Rage could see it was on the other side of the swings.

“Is Elle all right? Where is she now?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care,” the firecat retorted.

Rage thought of what Billy had told her. “Did your master go to see the other wizard? The one who lives on the far side of the winter door?”

“Ragewinnoway musst coming!” the firecat howled. There was a spluttering of light like a wet firecracker and then a soft, popping sound. Then silence.

“It’s gone,” Billy said.

“This is a hell of a dream,” Logan said, staring from Rage to Billy.

On impulse, Rage pointed a finger at him. “Wake, Logan!” And just like that, he disappeared.

Rage felt a surge of elation at her power. Maybe if she had such power, she could call Mam to her. She could tell Mam about Uncle Samuel. Surely a dream wouldn’t hurt her.

Rage
…

She gasped because it was Mam’s voice. Had she called her by thinking about her?

“Rage?” Billy asked, and his voice was sharp with concern.

“Billy, I can hear Mam! She’s here!” Rage saw a flash of pity in Billy’s eyes and anger coursed through her. “I
did
hear her, and why couldn’t I have brought her here just as I brought you and Logan? I’m sure he wasn’t just a dream.”

“He smelled real,” Billy said doubtfully. “But—”

Rage
…

It was Mam’s voice again, but how thin it sounded. Rage turned toward it and began to run.

“Rage, be careful, this is not the real playground….” Billy’s voice followed her, sharp with alarm, but the sense of his words was lost in her desperation to find Mam.

Rage?
The voice called again, and now it was no more than a whisper of sound.

“Mam!” Rage called back in despair. “Mam, where are you? I can’t find you!”

Billy’s voice behind her rang out. “Wait! I can’t smell her! Do you hear me, Rage?
I can’t smell her!
”

Rage stopped in confusion, knowing it couldn’t be her mother if Billy couldn’t smell her. Then it was snowing heavily again. Snow slithered down her neck when she looked down to see that her boots were sunk to the ankles in a fresh fall of powder snow.

“Billy?” she called, looking around. A wind-driven flurry of snowflakes blinded her. She stepped forward and found that there was nothing under her feet….

“Billy!” Rage gasped.

She reached out to switch on the bedside lamp and there he was, blinking at her, one silky, toffee-colored ear curled endearingly back on itself. “Billy, were you with me at the bramble gate and the playground or was that only a dream?”

He pawed at her leg to signal
yes
.

“And you saw Logan and smelled the firecat?” He scratched at her again.

Rage let out a long breath of air and lay back against the pillows. That meant the firecat really had come to her and told her that the wizard needed help. And from what the firecat had said, she was certain the firecat had convinced Elle to go through the winter door after him. But what had become of Elle if the firecat was still seeking help for its master?

Rage wondered what she ought to do. Even if she could have made herself fall asleep again at once, there was no point in trying to dream herself to Valley, since the witch Mother had said she was not to pass through the winter door. Her thoughts shifted to Logan and the amazing fact that she had summoned him to her in his dreams. She couldn’t help smiling at the memory of the look on his face when Billy told him he smelled of biscuits. It was heady to think she could call anyone to her in their dreams. She could even call Mrs. Somersby and give her a good fright. But she couldn’t do that, no matter how tempting, because Mam always said the only good use for power was to do good.

Outside, thunder rumbled. Rage climbed out of bed and drew the curtains. The sky between the clouds was a pale blue rather than the black she saw when she awoke to the alarm on weekdays. The sheds and fence and the tree that were normally her view were almost obscured by snow. She had not seen the yard in the daylight since the previous weekend, and it was a shock to see how much snow had fallen.

The sound of an engine spluttering to life cut through the tangle of her thoughts. She threw off the blanket and ran to the window, to see the taillights of her uncle’s car casting reddish smears of light on the fresh fallen snow as it pulled away. Rage ran out of the bedroom and down the hall, but by the time she wrenched open the front door, the car had vanished from sight. Instead, she saw heavy black clouds mounding on the horizon; this was the storm the thunder had heralded. Closing the door against the wind, Rage returned to her bedroom and dressed. She went along to the kitchen and found a note in her uncle’s blocky handwriting. “Will be back late.”

Rage wondered why he hadn’t at least waited until she had got up. There was no smell of toast or coffee, so he had gone without eating, too. She turned to the phone and found that the plug had been pushed back in. What if Mrs. Somersby had rung and spoken to her uncle! What if he had gone to town to arrange to have her taken in by a family?

Billy whined and pushed his nose against her leg, his eyes worried. Rage chided herself for jumping to conclusions. She and Billy sat together in the big chair by the fire, Rage nibbling at honey toast and thinking about her dream.

All at once she knew exactly what to do.

“Let’s go look at where the bramble gate was,” she said aloud to Billy.

He cocked his head, and she decided to interpret this as a shrug.

It was almost lunchtime by the time they set out. Rage packed an old rucksack with a lunch for herself, a thermos of hot chocolate, and water and dog biscuits for Billy. Rage left a note alongside her uncle’s saying that they had gone out for a walk. Then, just in case he
hadn’t
got a call from Mrs. Somersby, she pulled out the plug to the answering machine. Dark clouds were unraveling in great thick strands as she and Billy came out of the house. They had not gone more than a few steps before the clouds parted to allow a bit of thin sunlight through. There was no warmth in it, but Rage felt her spirits lift at the way the snow sparkled.

Thunder rumbled as they passed through the yard gate into the paddocks. Rage ignored it, knowing the storm would be several hours in coming. If it did catch them, they could take refuge in the hikers’ hut at the far end of the dam until it was over. The wan sunlight soon vanished, but Rage’s spirits remained high. It was just good to be outside doing something rather than sitting huddled in front of a fire. Billy looked up at her and barked. His eyes caught the light, and Rage could see that he was enjoying himself, too.

When they reached the highest hill on Winnoway Farm, Rage stopped and looked at the land stretched all around them. Trees, bushes, paths, and most fences became gentle, unfamiliar curves beneath the snow. A half-buried farm gate marked the last Winnoway fence, and crossing it, Rage was struck by how the pristine snow gentled the ragged and unkempt dam area.

Rage and Billy toiled up the last hill before the one that overlooked the dam. It was very steep, so they were both panting. As they crested the hill, a bitter wind clawed at Rage’s face. Looking back, she was dismayed to see a mist rising from the folds in the hills like a miasma. Worse, the storm was almost overhead. She walked more quickly then, leaning into the wind along the top of the hill toward the final hill they would have to climb. It was a little easier at one point because a section of the path lay clear of the snow, and someone—Uncle Samuel, she supposed—had sprinkled it with gravel.

Time passed, and Rage felt that they had been climbing for hours. Half the time she was on her hands and knees because her feet kept slipping out from under her. It was even harder for Billy because he was staying close by her so that she could hold on to him. It seemed forever before they had gained the crest and started down the other side.

Rage blew through her mitten tips to warm her fingers, which had grown numb with cold. Her nose felt numb, and her toes, too, and no wonder. She had the wrong clothes on, and she had not even had the sense to put on a knitted cap. She just hadn’t expected it to be so very cold. Billy’s footpads must be frozen, too. Certainly his eyes were streaming with cold, just like hers. He hadn’t whimpered once, but animals bore a lot more pain than humans before they would show it. A dog’s pain is a dog’s pain, as Bear had once said.

A misstep sent Rage pitching forward. Fortunately, the hill had flattened out, and she fell only a short way before landing hard and sliding to a halt. Winded, she picked herself up with Billy’s help. His coat was heavy and wet, and some of the strands had matted into icicles. Then it began to snow even harder.

The only safe thing to do now was to find the hikers’ hut. Rage groped for Billy’s collar and they went on down. It was more awkward for them both with Rage holding his collar, but she was comforted by his nearness and hoped he felt the same. She could not help but think of the storm in Valley that had caused her to feel so dreadfully bleak and hopeless.

They finally reached a flat place where they could stand upright without slipping. Rage let go of Billy and sank to her knees. She just
had
to rest for a moment. She no longer felt so cold, but she was very tired, and it was even a struggle to keep her eyes open. Billy growled at her and worried at her sleeve with his teeth until she gave in and got to her feet, and they went on. She was tired enough now that even the fact that the wind was growing stronger did not dismay her. Dimly she registered thunder overhead, but it was as if her mind was numbed as well as her body. For a time, her teeth chattered hard enough to make her jaw ache, but that passed, too. She fell any number of times. Without Billy to nudge and pull her upright, she would have lain there and fallen asleep. Indeed, the longer she walked, the more alluring sleep seemed.