Dismissing any caution, I start to make my way down, feeling the branches sway in the wind and catch at my jacket. I brush them away, but they move in the breeze and snag me again as if holding me back.
One branch catches my sleeve, strong enough to bring me to a stop. I hiss in exasperation, tugging at it, trying to get free. It seems to wind closer, and I bend over for a better angle, wrenching my clothing from the thorns. I wince as one jabs my finger. Blood wells in a cut, and I snatch my hand back in shock, raising my finger and sucking the blood away. The copper taste mingles with the salt on my lips.
When I look up, I gasp. What had been a clear path down is now blocked by the blackberry bushes. “What the hell? It wasn’t like that before.”
I spin around and draw back with a shocked gasp. There’s no way back. The steps upward have vanished under the sharp bushes. I glance around wildly, but even as I look upwards, the slice of the grey sky is vanishing as branches curl over me, their tendrils moving as if blindly seeking me. They find my jacket as I cringe, the thorns snagging the fabric as they wind over my arm.
“No,” I breathe. “This can’t behappening.” I try to shake off the branch, but it tightens, stopping my movements.
I look desperately about, but who could I summon for help? I haven’t seen a soul since I left the Minack.
Suddenly, I hear words spoken. They’re in a strange accent and try as I might, I can’t understand them. All I know is they drop into the air like a bell’s clear peal, and I blink as the branches quiver all over and then retreat, sliding along the steps and back into their previous position.
I rub my eyes, and when I lower my hands, a lady is standing on the path looking up at me. I’m not sure of her age. Her hair is blonde and pulled back neatly into a long plait that almost reaches her knees, and her eyes are a deep blue, the colour of very dark water. They look ageless.
“So, you’re finally here,” she says briskly.
I blink. “Sorry?”
“No need to apologise.” I feel a sense of familiarity, as if I recognise her, but that’s impossible. She steps up, and I stand to the side so she can pass me. I suddenly smell salt in the cool air, as if the atmosphere has been steeped in saltwater.
“Did you see?—?”
I falter because what can I say? If I tell her what just happened, she’ll think I’m mad, and maybe she’d have a point. Even now, the incident feels like a dream.
She looks thoughtful. “Ah, even in this world, there are still wild things. The Guardian takes his responsibility very seriously. Have a care on steps, Cary. They’re a conduit—a link—between the up and the down.”
I jerk. “You know my name?”
She cocks her head. “Pardon?”
“You…” I gesture between us. “You said my name.”
A smile plays on her lips. “Did I? Surely you’re mistaken.” She takes another step up, and I notice movement at her feet. A branch slowly makes its way across the step before her. She follows my gaze and then crouches and snaps off the branch. The whole bush judders as if outraged, and she sniffs. “You know the rules,” she says in a stern voice.
“Pardon?” I say.
“Oh, not you.” She taps her finger on the handrail.
I blink as the branches nearby immediately cringe away from her. I rub my eyes, and when I look up, she’s observing me, her eyes wide and innocent.
“Well, go on down, Cary. You’re late, but I suppose we should just be thankful you’re finally here.”
“I’m sorry. Do we know each other?”
“I don’t know. Do we?”
We stare at each other, and then she winks. “Well, I must be off.”
Her eyes focus on a point beyond me, and a secret little smile curves her mouth. I look in the direction she’s gazing. The waves are huge and the sun lays a pale path into the horizon.
“There’s a sea mist coming. You should take care.”
I freeze. Someone else said that to me. When was it?
I turn to ask her, but she’s gone. The steps are empty.
“What thefuck?”
