Not sure you'd call it that. I was born here. Maybe I just came home.
A local lad with local blood and fey power running through his veins.
I found warm drops running down my cheeks. Brushing them away, I realised they were tears – hot tears of frustration. All the anger at having my daughter stolen from me, of having her life destroyed, just as this young girl's life was being destroyed, welled up in me. All the frustration at how people wreaked havoc upon each other's lives with half-understood ideas and wrong conclusions formed like a hard knot in my throat. Cradling her limp form in my arms, I stood and staggered forward with her to the bow. Shelley draped between my arms, her long hair dripping on to the deck. I lifted my face and screamed to the silent stars.
'No!'
The well of power within me pulsed in answer, responding to my need. It opened into a dark vortex, a whirling spiral inside me, sucking power from the air, the water, the boat, the waves, the wind. Everything chilled to bone-numbing cold. Frost rimed the rails of the boat, forming white and luminous on every surface. Ice crystals sparkled in Shelley's hair and eyebrows. Energy collapsed into me, faster and stronger, answering that single word of denial.
There was a single crack and the whole sky flashed white. A huge cloud formed visibly over me, a massive thunderhead built from the frozen air. Another flash, the answering boom only a second behind. For a microsecond I could see the whole coast outlined in stark contrast. Raffmir's words came back to me. Yo u can go there if you can see it. You can step behind the curtain of reality and push through.
I fed my core with energy, pouring heat and warmth into it until my bones creaked and my joints ached. Waiting for the flash, I hugged Shelley tight to me, holding her cold wet form against my skin. I could feel the static building, a thread of tingling connection between the boat and the cloud above us. When the flash came, I kept my eyes open, letting the image of the coast and the beach burn into my retina. Then I stepped forward beyond the curtain of reality into my own flash.
The sea washed against the shingle beach, the soft hush and draw of the water on the stones telling me where we were, while my eyes still blinked luminous dots. I staggered forward as the rumble and boom of the thunder followed after me, echoing down the shore. Collapsing to my knees, I began to lower Shelley gently to the ground.
'Come!' I shouted, my voice cracking from salt and exhaustion. 'I have brought her to you.'
I could no longer support her weight and we sagged to the sand.
'Come,' I repeated.
My eyes were closed but I felt his approach. The tingling that spread across my skin was no natural chill. Whether he came from the cave or the beach or somewhere else, I could not have said, but I knew he was there.
'You must help her,' I said. 'She needs you. You know the sea. You know its ways. She's been sorely used.'
'This is not the way.' His voice was wary, but did not hold the warning of our first meeting.
'You said… you said it must be soon. It's tonight, on a moon-dark solstice. It has to be tonight, doesn't it?'
'She must come willingly. She is not even conscious. Look at her.'
'She will be willing. She will… once she knows. She wants to live. She wants it so badly. You must see that.'
The lightning flashed out in the bay, the dark thunder rumbling behind only a second later. He waited until it had subsided.
'She's fading, give her to me.'
He knelt in the sand opposite me, offering his arms. I lifted her, easing her into his embrace.
'How is she called?' He looked down into her pallid face, lit only by starlight.
'Her name's Shelley. It may be short for something. I don't know what.'
He leaned down, his lips almost brushing hers, and spoke her name.
'Shelley.'
Then he pressed his lips to hers in a slow gentle kiss, withdrawing slowly as he watched her face. She remained inert for a long moment and then jerked suddenly, coughing and retching in his embrace, spewing dark water over him from her mouth and nose, drawing great heaving raw breaths, struggling to be free while he held her gently, unconcerned with her wretched state.
Gradually she subsided, her breathing becoming regular and rhythmic, as she clung to him until she could open her eyes. She looked up into his face.
'Shelley,' he said again.
She stared up at him. 'I dreamed,' she said slowly, her voice cracked from salt and coughing. 'I dreamed you swam down for me.'
He smiled down into her face and there was the hint of an answering smile there. He stood easily, lifting her in his arms like a child, holding her gently. 'You are chilled through,' he said. 'Come. There is a warm pool. It will ease you.'
He turned and walked away towards the gap in the cliff where the caves were. Neither of them acknowledged me in the slightest. I might as well not have existed. For a second I wondered whether I had done the right thing. I wondered whether this was really what Shelley needed, but then I realised that, more than anything else, Shelley needed a chance at life.
I picked myself up and brushed the shingle from my trousers. My jacket was already stiffening with sea-water and sweat. I would need to find Greg, but not until I had at least showered off the salt. I wondered whether my spare clothes had come back from the laundry yet. I trudged across the shingle, only noticing at the last minute the shadow that lingered near the bank up to the road.
'Why,' I asked, 'do you always turn up when I am soaking wet, cold and tired?'
Raffmir stepped forwards into the light and smiled. He wore a long Edwardian jacket and a white ruffled shirt, making him appear oddly out of time, but he wore it comfortably and easily.
'Perhaps that is the wrong question,' he said. 'Perhaps the question should be, why are you always tired, cold and wet whenever we meet? For the life of me, I cannot think of a good reason for it.'
'If all you've come for is to gloat, Raffmir, you know where you can stuff it.'
I climbed the bank up to the road, using tufts of coarse grass to pull myself up.
'Gloating is furthest from my mind, I assure you. I came for you.'
I stopped and turned. He stepped lithely up the bank towards me. In his hand was the long black scabbard of a sword.
'You swore an oath not to harm me.'
'So I did, and I intend to keep it.' He held out the sword. 'You will be needing this.'
I turned away. 'It's a bit late for that now.'
'On the contrary, it is exactly the time for it. Come, we must depart immediately. We cannot be late.'
'Late? What for?'
'We have an appointment that must be kept or all will come awry.'
'Raffmir, I'm cold and wet. I need a shower. I need fresh clothes and dry boots and some hot food inside me. After that you can tell me about appointments. OK?'
'No. Now is the moment of choice. The midnight of the solstice is upon us. There is barely enough time. Either you come with me now and I will keep my promise to return your daughter to you…'
The grin had gone. He held out the scabbard, hilt vertical, for me to take.
'…or your daughter will die tonight.'
TWENTY-TWO
It was an unexpected kindness, Blackbird thought, for Ben Highsmith to collect her from the station. It meant she didn't have to bother with hitching a ride or finding a late bus. She didn't usually carry more than coins, having little use for money, and the train ticket had cost her most of her reserves.
