The Endless Knot

“You said you saw her what – less than three hours ago? Ethan and Taylor are kids without a car. They can’t have got too far.”

“If anything’s happened to her …”

“Taylor’s fine,” Zack said flatly. “And so are you. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

I went back to Taylor’s room and began hunting for something – anything – that would tell me where my daughter was. I had never once searched my children’s rooms. When other parents talked about rummaging through drawers, reading diaries, unearthing secrets, I was appalled, but that morning I was a madwoman. When I was through I was sick at heart. My daughter’s secret life was touchingly innocent – a beginner’s bra hidden in her sock drawer, a boy’s name written many times in many colours on a page of her journal, a paperback copy of a steamy chick-lit novel with several pages dog-eared. Blameless.

There was one last place to check. The box that Ethan had delivered the morning he left was still on the top shelf in my bedroom closet. I returned to my room, took the box from my cupboard, picked up the scissors from my desk, and slit the mailing tape. A stench – sweet and animal – assailed me. Ethan’s newest comic was wrapped in heavy clear plastic. I lifted it out of the box and then I began to retch. At the bottom of the box on a piece of velvet was the pentangle. It was covered with dried and clotted blood. I ran into my bathroom and vomited. Then I splashed my face with water and went back to the horror. I picked up the comic and unwrapped the plastic. There was a note inside. Five words: I did it for you.

Downstairs, Willie was barking. Reflexively, I went to my window to see what had got him going. When I looked down into our backyard, I saw my daughter. She was walking towards her studio, head bowed. As I had imagined, she had put her new green ski jacket over her pyjamas. She was wearing my favourite of her winter hats: a black angora toque with little cat ears on top. Ethan was behind her, very close, with one arm draped awkwardly around her shoulder. He was wearing a winter jacket too. His was black – as were his jeans and boots.

I raced down to open the kitchen door. Willie rocketed past me. I called out to Taylor. She turned, but there was something unusual about the way she moved. My daughter was a girl who bounced through life, but that morning she was like a sleepwalker. With the grace of a long-time dance partner, Ethan turned with her. That’s when I saw the sun glint off the knife he was holding at her throat.

The moment Willie spotted Taylor, he had bounded towards her. Now, tail pounding the frozen earth, he sat in front of her and Ethan, waiting for someone to acknowledge his presence.

Ethan tensed. “Get the dog away,” he said. He looked as if he was going to cry, but the hand holding the knife against my daughter’s throat didn’t move. “Get the dog away. If he jumps up on me now, my hand could slip.”

“Willie, come,” I said. He cocked his head as if he was attempting to remember a word from an ancient language.

“Come,” I said again. Amazingly, he loped towards me. “Good dog,” I said, then I grabbed his collar.

“Put him in the house,” Ethan’s voice cracked with emotion. He tightened his hold on Taylor and guided her towards the studio.

With my hand still looped through Willie’s collar, I took him back to the house, pushed him into the kitchen, and closed the door. His howls of indignation followed me as I ran towards the studio; Ethan and Taylor were already inside. Surprisingly, Ethan made no move to stop me when I opened the door. He was still standing behind Taylor, but he had changed the position of the knife. Now the handle was clasped in his closed fist and the shaft was vertical with its point touching the tender flesh under my daughter’s chin.

Taylor was dangerously pale. “Ethan, you have to stop this,” I said. “Taylor’s going into shock.”

“Lean against me, Taylor,” he said gently. “You know – the way Chloe leans against Soul-fire. It’s all in the book I left for you.” Taylor’s eyes were half-closed, she swayed. “You did read it, didn’t you?” Ethan asked. Taylor remained silent, and Ethan exploded. “You were supposed to read the book. It explains everything.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe you didn’t read it. You’re just like all the others.” The tip of the knife pierced the skin on her throat, and a drop of blood appeared.

When I saw her blood, I reacted immediately. “I didn’t give her the book,” I said. “It’s my fault.”

Ethan eyes met mine. “So she doesn’t know.”

I shook my head. “No, Taylor doesn’t know anything.”

“I can tell her,” Ethan said. His voice became very soft. “It’s the end of Chloe and Soul-fire – their last adventure. They’re attacked by this monster dragon. She’s huge and she can’t be killed. Soul-fire does his best. He takes his sword and plunges it into the dragon’s neck again and again. There’s blood … blood everywhere. Finally, the head is severed, but it grows back – not just one head but two. Every time, Soul-fire cuts off a head, two grow back in its place. He tries so hard, but he knows the dragon will always be there. Soul-fire knows that the one place the dragon won’t follow him is through the Gates of Death. So he takes his golden knife and he holds it to Chloe’s throat and …”

Taylor’s eyes seemed to roll back in her head; her knees buckled and she crumpled to the floor. I knelt and took her in my arms. Ethan raised the hand that held the knife.

“Don’t,” I said, shielding my daughter’s body with my own.

“No matter how much I try to kill her, she never goes away,” Ethan said. “I smashed in her head and she grows another one. She comes to me in my dreams.”

My face was pressed against my daughter’s body. I turned my head so that I could see Ethan. “Who comes to you in your dreams?” I asked.

“My mother,” he said.

That was when I screamed.

“Stop,” Ethan said. “Please just stop.” But I didn’t. I screamed again and again and again.

“I don’t want to kill anybody else,” Ethan said. Beneath me, Taylor’s body was so boneless that I could feel the beating of her heart. When the studio door opened, I felt cold air, then I heard Zack’s voice. “Come over here to me, Ethan,” he said.

Eyes closed, I waited, still shielding Taylor from what was to come. Ethan’s footsteps moved towards the door, and I thought how vulnerable Zack was in his wheelchair. “Give me the knife,” Zack said. The silence that followed