Everett puts the bowl on the floor. He goes still, so still that he almost blends with the night behind him. Or maybe it’s daytime; Riley’s not sure.
‘Tell me,’ Riley whispers. ‘Why?’
He draws a finger diagonally across his face, transecting his eyes, his mouth. Then he does it again, and again.
‘Show me,’ Riley says.
He shakes his head.
‘Doesn’t matter, does it?’ she whispers. ‘I’m not going to last long. Do it for the dying. I’m giving all my blood to the land.’
Everett looks at her for a long minute. Then he raises his hand and draws the mask slowly upwards.
Riley tries not to make a sound when she sees, as more and more of his face comes into view. He puts the mask down beside him and just looks at her, brown eyes wide and beautiful among the scars. His skin is crosshatched with pale seams, all razor thin. A person made each scar with slow purpose.
‘I’m sorry,’ Riley says.
Everett shrugs. He covers the rutted landscape of his face with the black ski mask.
‘Did you ever like me?’ Riley asks.
Everett shakes his head. Then he nods.
‘That’s what I thought,’ she says. ‘Will you tell Oliver something for me? Please?’ She coughs and sags in the chair. ‘Please.’
Everett comes close and bends his head. She whispers into his ear, ‘Tell him I won’t let the demons get him.’ He looks at her. ‘Thank you.’
Everett nods and goes.
Riley lowers her head to the strap on her wrist. She grasps it inher mouth and gnaws, teeth grinding on the leather. Time moves on, she seems to be fading in and out of the world, but she doesn’t stop. The leather is so thick she can’t tell if she’s making any difference at all. Shadows grow longer or maybe the sun rises. Riley swallows, jaws aching, dry lips gripping the strap. She thinks longingly of the well outside. She can see her blood on the patchy grass below, in the sunken garden; the dark slick stain spreading outwards. It drips gently from her wrist onto the grass.
At some point she becomes aware that footsteps are softly approaching across the long room behind her. Dry leaves flurry out of his path. He carries his own weather with him.
Riley shivers. She knows who it is – who is coming. Of course she does. His power touches everything, fills the ruins of Nowhere House. The light turns silver, every sound is etched upon the air. He comes to a halt just behind her. Riley twists and cries out, struggling against her restraints. She can smell the fresh earth on him; he is newly risen from the grave. His breath touches the back of her neck.
‘You’re not real,’ Riley whispers. She knows it’s a hallucination born of blood loss, the mushrooms and exhaustion. She knows all this but she doesn’t believe it.
‘Close your eyes if you like,’ he says, gentle in her ear. ‘You don’t need to look upon me.’
Riley obeys, tears leaking hot from between her eyelids. She feels his every movement as Leaf Winham bends and puts his lips to her slit wrist, drawing the blood from her like a lamb feeding from its mother. Riley doesn’t cry, she will never give him that. She thinks,you killed my father but you will not kill me.She goes inside herself. Even in the dark of her mind, the tiny people still dart, enrobed in light, hovering on dragonfly wings. She breathes and breathes. At length she feels the mouth leave her wrist and he’s gone, or the hallucination has passed – whichever it was.
The light has fallen though it’s too early for dusk. Time seems to be slipping out of place; Riley is afraid that all the rules of the world are breaking. But when she looks up through the ragged roof, she sees it is a storm which has been gathering overhead. Rain begins to fall in fat drops. Thunder rolls so loud she thinks she’ll die and a jagged snake of white splits the air. It feels close, so close, the electricity of it grazes Riley’s skin. Through the holes in the burnt-out house it rains like swords falling. Thunder cracks the world.
There’s no point, Riley thinks.Leaf Winham is real, he’s here. She heard his voice and felt his touch. Riley tips her head back, lifts her face up to the scattered rain that falls through the ruined roof. Cool drops pattern her face. She opens her mouth to drink the rainfall. The glowing lights dance in the air around the wounds in her wrists, darting through the downpour, sipping from her.
Riley closes her eyes. Let them have it. Maybe this is what it was supposed to be. She came here to find a home, to find her father. Maybe this is how. Maybe it’s time to accept, at last, that she’s not the kind of person who makes it out alive.
Something hurtles past her, shutting out the falling rain and electric sky. The thing charges away from the storm, flying down the length of the gallery into the shelter of the house. Riley recoils, heart pounding. As it goes, she sees the outlines of antlers and delicate legs. Then the deer is gone in a flash of fawn hide. As it vanishes into the dark Riley sees that one of the deer’s antlers is thin, broken, just beginning to regrow.
Riley stares. She wishes that her hands were free so she could pinch herself. It’s hard to tell what is real. But she felt the deer’s passage, smelled its wet hide, heard the drum of its hooves. She has to hope.
‘Have fun while you can,’ she whispers to the dancing lights. ‘Because there’s another way out of here, and I’m going to find it.’
Riley bends her head to her wrist and takes the thick leather strapin her mouth once more. Grimly she gnaws, working the iron-hard leather between her teeth.
She doesn’t think about time, she just chews until her jaws are sore. Occasionally she rests, teeth singing, but even then she keeps her mind working.
Houses are logical, she knows this. So Riley thinks about the house, goes through it room by room. She makes maps in her mind, soaring over the valley, looking down on Nowhere from above. She thinks about rock formations and caves and secret passages. She lets the dream take her, lets Nowhere wash over her, trying to summon every inch of it in her mind.
