She cocks her head to one side. ‘And how did that work out?’
It lands like a punch. I turn towards the door.
‘Michael.’ Meg places a hand on my shoulder. ‘Michael, I’m sorry. That was a shitty thing to say.’
‘Leave it.’
She grips my shoulder. ‘Stop!’
I shrug her hand off. ‘What’s going on with you?’
There’s sweat under her eyes. She glances upstairs again. ‘I want to help you, OK? I have to show you something.’
I should leave. She’s rude and insensitive and…
My only friend.
‘What is it?’
Her smile is back. ‘It’s going to help you, I promise. Come on.’
Meg turns and runs up the stairs.
I glance at the door, then follow her up the stairs as she disappears into her room, letting the door close behind her.
I notice the smell first. It’s seeped out onto the hallway: incense, almost like turf, woody, earthy and something sweet and metallic. It’s so like the smell from my visions that I freeze.
But there’s none of the usual pain. No blazing light. ‘Meg?’
‘Come in, and keep the door closed.’
That smell catches in my throat. ‘I’m not in the mood to mess about. Can we just go. I—’
‘It’s important.’
My fingers rest on the doorknob for a moment. Then I open the door and step into the darkness.
‘Close it!’
As I push it shut, the light from the hallway recedes. Meg’s room is lit up once more by the raven lamp with its red bulb as well as a red candle on a low coffee table in the centre, surrounded by small black bowls. The candle throws ragged, flickering shadows across the walls that make the paintings of trees and animals shift and move. Meg is sitting on the floor by the table.
The smell is intoxicating: but it’s too rich, too smoky and sweet. And hot. How can a smell be this hot?
I cough. ‘What is this?’
She pats a cushion beside her. ‘Sit down.’
I cough again. ‘Can we open a window. This is horrible.’
She sighs like I’m being dramatic. ‘It’s needed.’
My neck prickles. ‘For what?’
‘The Imbas Forasnai.’
The ritual.
I step back. ‘Oh, come on, Meg.’
