something else, something I remembered seeing on Mother’s face when William and Ernest were babies. And then, with a small shiver, I wondered if this made me the father of this mud creature.
Elizabeth and I had made this odd baby together, both our hands shaping him in the earth. Eyes, nose, mouth, heart. We’d fashioned it from the clay. What a strange little family we were.
Its nostrils flared as it drew in breath.
“Does it look like Konrad?” I asked.
She gave a soft laugh. “Can’t you see it?”
“No.”
“You don’t even recognize yourself, then,” she said in gentle mockery.
As though I’d inhaled some strange ether, I was suddenly aware of Elizabeth’s potent new womanliness, and it caused a hungry stirring in me. My body hadn’t forgotten how she’d pressed herself against me in the spirit world. I looked at the mud creature still cradled in her arms.
“You should put it down,” I told her.
Elizabeth lifted an eyebrow. “You just don’t like me holding him. Admit it! Only Victor’s allowed to be the center of attention.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It needs to be in the earth.”
“Does he really? Or are you just making that up?”
I tried to rein in my temper, never easy at the best of times. “I was the one who read the cave writing. And I’m telling you, the mud man was never touched, and it stayed in the ground the whole time.”
Disconsolate, she looked at the hole in the floor. “It seems too cruel.”
More gently I said, “It can’t grow otherwise.”
I gave a small jerk of surprise as the creature’s little arms flexed suddenly. Its head wobbled from side to side, its eyelids squeezed tighter, and its mouth turned down with displeasure.
“It’s waking,” I hissed. “Put it down, now!”
Elizabeth hesitated, and I angrily reached out to take it. But she held it tighter against her.
“He’s hungry, Victor. Look!”
It was blindly nuzzling against her blouse.
“You can’t feed it,” I said irritably, for I found the sight both embarrassing and arousing. “It doesn’t need food.”
“Clearly he does,” said Elizabeth, for the creature was even more agitated now, and from its mouth came a small unearthly cry. I’d heard many babies cry in my life, and each one was uniquely different, but there was something about this sound that raised the hairs on the back of my neck, a keening rattle, like the wind blowing through naked branches.
“Poor little thing. He’s parched!” Elizabeth said. “There’s milk in the hamper. Hold him a moment, Victor.”
“This wouldn’t have happened,” I muttered, “if you’d put it back sooner.”
“Just take him,” she said, and I was acutely aware that I did not want to hold it. I’d held William many times and knew how to do it properly, but the moment this mud creature was in my arms, it began to wail. I felt its little body tense, and its limbs flailed about in fury. Its eyes remained closed, for which I was strangely grateful. No doubt it would urinate all over me shortly.
“Ah, Victor, he has your temper,” commented Henry wryly. “What a surprise.”
“Care to hold it?” I snapped.
Henry hesitated for a moment, eyes wide, and then surprised me by nodding. I gratefully deposited the thrashing thing into his arms, and stood back to enjoy Henry’s suffering. He had no siblings, no experience dandling babies and jollying them along as I’d had. But the moment the mud creature left my arms, its wails quieted. Henry held it well, I must admit, snugly against his chest, swaying it gently from side to side while mumbling something that sounded like Shoo-ba-labba-shoo-ba-labba-shoo-shoo.
“‘Shoo-ba-labba-shoo-shoo’?” I said mockingly.
“I don’t know where it came from,” he replied a bit sheepishly. “Perhaps my mother sang it to me.”
“It did the trick,” Elizabeth said, shooting me a withering look as she returned with a jar of milk. “You have a father’s touch, Henry.”
The pleasure at this compliment blazed from Henry’s face like a beacon. Elizabeth unscrewed the jar of milk, dipped a rag into it, and then pushed a sodden corner between the creature’s lips. It grunted and proceeded to suck hungrily. While Henry held it, Elizabeth fed it until its lips grew lazy and its body limp.
In silence I watched this whole scene, and then noted the way Elizabeth smiled up at Henry, how Henry smiled back, as if they’d just shared something profound and immensely satisfying.
“It’s asleep,” I said tersely. “It needs to go back now.”
Biting her lip, Elizabeth looked down at the hole. “At least let me put a diaper on him.”
“You brought a diaper?” I asked.
“And a blanket.”
I sighed. “Honestly.”
“He might get cold,” she protested. “He’s just a little baby. How can you be so heartless?”
“There’s no point pinning on a diaper,” I said. “It’ll be too small for him within hours. It’ll only hurt him.”
“Oh,” she said. “I suppose you’re right. May I?” she said to Henry, reaching out for the baby. She took it carefully in her arms, smiling. Then, with great reluctance, she placed it back in the hole. Even I had to admit it seemed a pitiful sight. Henry must have gone to the hamper for the blanket, and he gently tucked it around the baby.
“Is it even safe to leave him here?” she asked worriedly.
“Yes. No harm will come to it.” I closed my eyes to better remember the images from the cave. “Even animals wouldn’t go near it. They were… afraid.”
She still knelt by the hole. “Maybe we should bring him inside the chateau.”
I looked down at her in horror. “We can’t risk it! Someone’ll see!”
“But what if he wakes up and cries?” She looked truly distressed. “I’d want to be there to comfort him.”
“It woke only because we disturbed it.” I scratched at my forehead, feeling somehow that we’d made a mistake, but it couldn’t be undone now. “All it’s meant to do is sleep and grow. It doesn’t need food. It doesn’t need us.”
“Why do you keep calling him ‘it’?” she demanded angrily. “This is your brother, Victor.”
Not yet, I thought.
“We’ll come and check on… him… tomorrow,” I told her placatingly. “And every day. He’ll be fine. I promise.”
I offered her my hand to help her up, and she took it.
“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” she said with an apologetic smile. “I’m just a bit… overwhelmed by all this.”
I gave her hand a quick squeeze, and she squeezed back before releasing me. “Tonight we’ll have to return to the spirit world to tell Konrad all is well,” Henry said.
I looked at him, saw his eagerness, and grinned. I was glad I wasn’t alone in craving the spirit world. In Elizabeth’s face I saw hesitation.
“You must come,” I said to her. “It’ll ease Konrad’s mind. Time moves so strangely there. It might seem to him an age has passed and we’ve abandoned him.”
This melted her hesitation. “Yes, all right. Tonight, then.”
And we left the cottage, and our strange sleeping mud creation.
CHAPTER 9
'Your body’s growing!” Elizabeth tells Konrad, exultant.
