The Gorgons Gaze # 2 (Companions Quartet) (17 page)

Col grew restless waiting by Rat’s bus for Connie to arrive. She’d said she’d be here at nine. He’d allowed her an extra hour but still no sign. Something must’ve gone wrong.

“All right there, Col?” Rat stuck his head out of the door. He had the blackbird perched on one shoulder and the rabbit on a piece of string.

“Yeah. What’re you doing?”

“Just taking them for a walk. Me ma doesn’t like them pooing in the bus.” He jumped down the steps, closely followed by the rabbit. Wolf whined inside.

“What’s wrong with him?” asked Col jerking his head in the direction of the dog. If he was going to wait here any longer, he’d prefer to know what kind of mood the beast was in.

“Dunno. He’s been acting up all evening. Took one sniff of the air and bolted inside. He’s crazy.”

Col now noticed that the rabbit had stopped leaping after Rat and was quivering with terror on the bottom step. The blackbird peeped and flew back into the bus.

“Looks like whatever’s worrying him has got to them, too,” said Col.

Rat scanned the skies. “D’you reckon there’s a storm on the way? I can’t sense anything.”

“No, neither can I. I’d better get going. I don’t want to get caught in it.”

“But what about your friend?”

“I think she must’ve run into trouble getting away. She’s got this mental great-aunt who keeps her locked in the house.”

“Sounds as if she needs rescuing.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Perhaps I should try.”

“Count me in—I’ll bring Wolf—he’ll sort out the great-aunt. Eats great-aunts for breakfast, he does.”

Col laughed. “Yeah, right. I’ll just tell my mom I’m off. See you soon.”

“At school—on Monday—don’t forget.”

“You’re really coming?”

“Yeah.” Rat looked proud but a little sheepish.

“Great. See you then.”

Col jogged off into the wood, eager to fetch Argand and get home before the storm arrived. The thought of going to Chartmouth with Rat prompted Col to laugh. He couldn’t wait to see what Rat made of his other friends and what they would make of him. It was such a shame Connie wasn’t going to be there. He thought Rat would feel comfortable with her.

He needed his flashlight to help him find his way along the ledge. Arriving outside the cave mouth, he called out a warning of his approach.

“Hi, I’ve come to fetch Argand.”

The echo was interrupted by the gorgon’s voice.

“
Ss
-send the child ins-
ss
ide, hatchling.
Ss
-she can fetch the dragonet.”

“I’m sorry but I can’t.” Col could now hear a distressed whistle from inside the cave. “Is that Argand? Is she okay?” He crept nearer, patting his pockets for the mirror until he realized he’d left it at home.

“Why can’t the universal come in?” hissed the gorgon threateningly.

Col didn’t feel like explaining himself to her and he was worried for Argand—she sounded really upset. “Mom, are you there?”

“Don’t cry for your mother, boy.” The gorgon was getting closer. “
Ss
-she had faith in you, but it
ss
-seems you have failed.”

Instinctively, Col half turned away. Part of him wanted to run for it, but he knew he couldn’t leave Argand behind.

“I’m sorry. Something must have stopped Connie from coming.”

“It was you, wasn’t it? You made her sus-
ss
-picious of us-
ss
.”

“What? No—I haven’t seen her. She doesn’t know
anything about you. I’m sure she wanted to come, but she couldn’t.” Col now had his back pressed against the rock wall, his eyes screwed tightly closed. “Look, just give me Argand, and I’ll go. I’ll try and bring Connie here another night.”

A cold fingertip touched his cheek—no, it wasn’t a finger; it was the flicker of a snake’s tongue. He swallowed his cry of alarm. Another snake glided over his shoulder, wrapping itself around his neck. He could feel the dry breath of the gorgon on his face.

“
Ss
-shall I kill him?” the gorgon asked.

The question was answered by the noise of hooves inside the cave.

“I think not,” said a voice that Col had never heard before. The sound chimed through his body, making his bones quiver. “Leave him to me. He can still be useful to us. Turn your eyes away so he can see me.”

Col felt the snakes retreat.

“Boy, come and greet me,” ordered the voice.

Cautiously, Col opened his eyes a crack. The gorgon had her back to him and was staring at the entrance of the cave. Out of the shadows stepped a pegasus, larger than a Shire horse with vast iron-gray wings, powerful shoulders, blue-black mane, and strong muscled legs. It snorted once and trotted toward Col, graceful despite its size, coming near enough for him to see into the horse’s eyes, an odd pair, golden and acid yellow, all wrong for the creature.

Col hesitated. He felt dazed, unable to think straight while staring into these eyes. Something was not right—he could not sense the pegasus from afar as he could Skylark.

Greet me!
the voice threatened again, this time inside Col’s head. It felt as though the door to the bond he shared with Skylark was being pried open with a crowbar. He put his hands to his temples.

Coward, greet me!

This time, Col had no choice. He reached out and touched the pegasus.

Crack! A charge flashed through him. He screamed but could not remove his hand; it was as if an iron fist had gripped his wrist. This was no encounter—it was an invasion. Col was driven down, trampled in the stampede of the dark presence. It thundered over him until he no longer knew who or where he was, kicked and buffeted aside by uncaring hooves, stunned into submission. He fell against the pegasus, his face half-buried in the creature’s suffocating mane, and then slid to the floor.

Pleased to have conquered so easily, the pegasus nuzzled Col possessively. The boy stirred.

Come
, the pegasus said.

Obedient now to another’s will, the boy rose to his feet and stroked the creature’s neck, drinking in its presence like poison.

Somewhere inside him, the dying embers of Col watched this stranger he had become clamber astride the
pegasus. He was powerless to stop what was happening, his screams unheard as if he was shouting and thumping the walls of a thick glass cage. Then another pulse of energy from the false pegasus stamped out even this resistance.

Argand chewed her way through her tether in time to see Col flying away on Kullervo’s back, heading into the night. The gorgon was slithering up the path and into the trees. Argand peeped in distress. Why had everyone left her?

10
Colin

C
onnie thought she would go mad. The walls of her room had closed in on her; the faded tendrils of rose-patterned paper wove into her dreams, choking her with their thorns. She’d been shut away for a week, not allowed out except to use the bathroom. Godiva had banned Hugh from going anywhere near her, making it sound as if she was contagious and visiting only to hand out and collect schoolwork and meals.

Perhaps she really believes that what I’ve got is catching, Connie thought, staring at the ceiling. Perhaps she thinks she’ll fall ill again, wake up and hear the trees talking to her as they should.

As much as Connie hated her great-aunt for this treatment, she could not help but be fascinated by her. How could Godiva have taken the step of denying the evidence
of her own eyes—of her own heart even? She had viciously pruned off the shoots of her true self to produce not even a bonsai, but a dry stick. Still, she couldn’t escape her gift—her hiding from anything wooden proved that. It still hummed under her fingers like it did for Connie—that’s why she hated it—and why she loathed her niece. But did she know that the much-praised family coat of arms was based on the universal’s symbol? Connie thought not—or she’d have eradicated that from the house, too.

Spending hours in solitary confinement, Connie had plenty of time to wonder what Col, Anneena, and Jane were doing at school. She measured out her hours by theirs, thinking of them chatting at the bus stop, kicking a ball in the playground at break, doing their homework together in the Nuruddins’ kitchen. She hoped Col understood why she hadn’t shown up on the weekend, but she was surprised that he hadn’t tried to call or get a message to her through Anneena.

Saturday came around again. Connie wondered whether her aunt would expect her to work like during the week—Connie thought that she would. She had gotten through the last few days by not speaking to Godiva, except for “yes,” “no,” and “thank you”—the barest minimum she could get away with. Her heart burned with the injustice of her imprisonment, but there seemed no one to turn to.

She was allowed that breakfast time to eat with Hugh and Godiva in the kitchen. Let out on parole for good behavior, she thought.

“Feeling better now, Connie?” asked Hugh anxiously.

“I haven’t been sick, Uncle Hugh.”

“Well, well.” He patted her wrist, clearly preferring to avoid an argument.

There was a ring at the gate bell. Godiva got up and peered through the window.

“It’s those two friends of yours,” she said over her shoulder to Connie. “Did you invite them?”

“No…who?”

“The girls.”

“Oh, you mean the nice ones—the safe ones,” supplied Hugh. “Shall I go and see what they want?”

“They’ll want to see her, of course.” Godiva looked at her great-niece’s bowed head. Connie no longer dared to show any enthusiasm or pleasure in anything in case it was whipped away from her.

“And can they?” asked Hugh. “See her, I mean?”

“I think she’s learned her lesson. Haven’t you, Connie?”

“Yes, Aunt.” Adding under her breath, “No, Aunt, three bags full, Aunt.” She’d got to the stage where she would say anything to see someone other than Godiva. She’d even welcome an interview with Mr. Coddrington. I must be feeling desperate, she thought ruefully.

“Righty, ho. I’ll go and fetch them,” said Hugh,
brightening. He, too, had been suffering in sympathy with his great-niece.

A few minutes later, Anneena and Jane were standing in the kitchen, trying to persuade Godiva to let them take Connie out for the morning. Their pleas were seconded by Hugh.

“I’ve fixed up your old bike for her,” he said. “You can’t keep a young thing like her indoors the whole time—she needs a run from time to time. It’ll stop her dwelling on
other things
.”

This argument proved the most persuasive.

“In that case, you can go. But you’re not to go to Hescombe, Connie, nor anywhere near Evelyn and her friends, do you understand?” said Godiva.

Connie could’ve hugged Anneena and Jane—they were her knights in shining armor come to rescue her.

“Yes, Aunt,” she replied, keeping her face under strict control. She felt like dancing for joy.

“And be back by one o’clock.”

“Yes, Aunt.”

“Well, then, what are you waiting for?”

For any more orders, Connie could’ve said, but she didn’t want to push her luck.

It felt wonderful to escape into the air. The three friends didn’t say anything at first, by mutual agreement wanting to put some distance between them and Lionheart Lodge in case Godiva changed her mind. Connie just let
herself enjoy the sensation of pedaling hard after Jane’s bent back, feeling the wind in her hair. After ten minutes they had reached the outskirts of Chartmouth, not far from the refinery. It wasn’t a picturesque spot. Connie wondered why Anneena had brought them here.

“Should we have a rest?” Anneena suggested, her face glowing with the exercise.

“Okay. But where are we going? I can’t go to Hescombe—not after I promised.” Connie looked up the steep hill that separated Hescombe from Chartmouth. It was much changed since she’d last seen it—one side was a raw scar of turned earth and concrete as the construction work on the new road got under way; on the other, the land was so far untouched. At the top of the hill, the first of the trees of Mallins Wood waved on the horizon. Police cars were parked in the rest area near the summit with a couple of officers flagging down vehicles—usually old, battered ones.

“What are they doing?” she asked.

“Looking for protesters—there’s already been some trouble,” explained Jane. “The police tried to move the camp last week but they wouldn’t budge, so now they’re trying to stop more from joining. It’s all getting a bit heated—and the festival’s only a week away. There’ll be so many people then that they’re saying the police won’t be able to handle it.”