Waiting in the church gave me time to think. I'd let myself in and locked the door after me in case anyone else came by. Greg had a key and if it wasn't him, the sound of the door unlocking would give me time to conceal myself. I had an idea he was expecting me in any case.
Blackbird's advice was to let matters take their course and intervene no further, but for me it left too much unresolved. I needed to know what happened, and there were things Greg needed to know too.
I sat where the sunlight poured through the great east window and waited for him.
The pinboard with the photos was still there. No one had removed the pictures of Gillian and Trudy. I guessed that Greg was still working on a way to break the news to the parents. Whether I should explain to Greg exactly what had happened to them was a dilemma. I tried to feel anger at the men who had taken two girls out to sea and then forced them off the boat into the water. I tried to see them as murderers, as monsters. The problem was that they weren't really any different to anyone else. They were just men.
They had tried to save their livelihood, their families and their community. Wasn't that all anybody did? They had got close to the truth. They had found the records, searched the archives and pieced the puzzle together. That's all I had done. The only difference was that the picture they ended up with had interpreted the role of the girls as a literal sacrifice to the sea. The actual sacrifice was much more subtle, a life given in service to the community in return for… what? What was the link between the cave on the beach and the girls in the town? What did the women get out of it? A longer life? A better life?
My train of thought was interrupted by the sound of heavy footsteps and the turn of a key in a lock. I didn't wrap myself in glamour; there was no need. The man I had come to see let himself in.
He didn't acknowledge me at first. I figured he'd been expecting me sooner or later so my presence in a locked church was no surprise. Instead he marched up the aisle and knelt before the altar in the flood of light under the window. I sat in silence and let him commune with his Maker.
Presently he rose and bowed, then went to either side of the altar, moving this and that, checking things were as they should be. When he returned to me he didn't slide into the pew beside me but chose the one in front, sitting sideways so he could see my face. It was some time before he spoke.
"Questions, or answers?" he said.
"Both."
"Shelley is back with her folks. Artist feller says he found her on the beach, wet, freezing cold, totally out of it. He picked her up, took care of her, brought her home."
"An artist."
"Is that a question or an answer?"
"A question. Is he local?"
Greg smiled. "Aye. He designed that." He gestured at the main east window. "He calls it Flowing Sealight. Told me that glass isn't solid, that it stays liquid even while it's up there, that if you wait long enough it will flow down and pool at the bottom, like water."
I looked again into the flood of light from the window, noting how the shape of the cross emerged at random from the arrangement of the fragments, how some of the panes were thicker than others, so that they refracted the light in all directions, into every corner. It really was a thing of beauty.
"He's got a real talent for it."
"He's taken a liking to Shelley. Think she's a bit young for him, personally."
"How old is he?"
"Hard to say. She's just a kid, though."
"She'll grow."
"Aye, she will now. Where did you go?"
"When?"
"When Shelley disappeared. We were searching the waterfront. There was that van. You ran down the harbour and then… where did you go?"
"I had a hunch."
"I found the mirror, what was left of it. You weren't with it."
I wanted to answer. I wanted to explain, but I couldn't find the words. Instead I just shrugged. "What does Shelley say?"
"She says she went swimming. Says she got out of her depth, that she couldn't get out. The tide was too strong. Says she nearly drowned. Doesn't know how she made it out of the water."
"I expect that's right, then."
"Avesham says when he found her, she was near frozen to death."
"Avesham?"
"The artist. Says he was out on the beach, watching the storm. Saw her on the shingle. Says it was destiny."
"Does he?"
"Artists. They say things like that." He paused, waiting for some comment or confirmation from me. "Storm appeared out of nowhere."
"That can happen," I said.
"One of the boats was washed ashore. A lobster boat."
"That can happen too."
"Three men drowned. The boat was salvaged, but the men weren't on it. No lifebelts used, flares all accounted for."
"It's a dangerous occupation. There's a book in the Maritime Museum, it's full of the names of good men."
"Aye, it is." There was another long pause. "Helen came to see me."
"That's good."
"Brought the baby with her. Wants him christened in the church."
"That's a lovely idea."
"She said a man came to her in a dream and told her I wanted to know whether it was a boy or a girl. She described the man. He looked a lot like you."
"It's probably better that we don't meet then, isn't it? That might freak her out a little."
"Aye. Probably. Don't know whether her parents will come to the christening."
"If they love their daughter then they'll come. It's not every day you become a grandparent."
"And you, Neal. What about you? Did you find your story?"
"If there is a story, I am not sure where it begins or how it ends. Maybe I will write it, one day."
"Some stories are better left untold."
"I'm glad you see it that way."
I offered him my hand and he took it. The pulse of power passed between us.
"Static," I said. He smiled, wryly.
I left him in the church. He still had the task of taking bad news to the parents of Gillian and Trudy and I did not envy him that, but with the christening to look forward to, there might be some compensation.
I walked down to the High Street and bought a nice mirror from an antique shop, then took it to the Dolphin and presented it to Martha as a replacement for the one I had broken. She was full of reprimands until she unwrapped it, and then embarrassed that it was really rather better than the one it replaced. I collected my things and left, climbing past the church until I stood on the hill looking down on the town. Would it prosper now? Only time would tell.
Concealing myself, I turned to the Way-node and stepped forward, leaving the town far behind.
When I got back to the High Courts, Blackbird was going through her wardrobe, laying out the contents of her drawers and examining them all with a critical eye. She had amassed three piles – one for the charity shops, one to go back in the cupboards and a last one with an uncertain future.
"Do you think I'll ever wear this again? She held up a sundress with a blue floral design.
"I don't know. Do we have to decide right now?" I asked.
She surveyed the piles. "You're right. I'll keep that one but not this one. This one goes, right?"
She held up a yellow sun-top that faded into orange.
"Whatever you think's best. I'd better go and see how Alex is getting on."
I escaped into the hallway and met Tate as I walked through the house. He turned and fell into step with me.
"How's she doing?" I asked him.
"She's upsetting the stewards," he said. "Eating like a horse, and she's driving Fionh crazy. "
"I thought they'd get on OK."
"It's a long time since Fionh was a teenager. She's been trying to teach Alex to use her magic in a more controlled fashion, but she has no attention span. They just get started and she wants to eat again, or drink, or take a shower."
"She's only fifteen, Garvin."
"That may be true, but in fey terms she's a woman. The Feyre consider that once you come into your power you are responsible for yourself, an adult."
"She's not ready for adulthood."
"She has power, she's of an age to bear children. Those are all the qualifications you need."
"She'll need some time to adjust," I insisted.
"Stop babying her, Niall. You're making it worse."
We'd reached the suite which Alex and I had been assigned. Alex was reorganising it to her tastes, moving furniture while Fionh watched her from the sofa. I looked at Fionh. She shrugged.
"Sweetheart, what are you doing?" I called after Alex.
"Do you mind if you have my bedroom and I have yours?" she called, walking into another room. "You won't be sleeping in there anyway, will you?"
Tate touched my arm. "I'll see you later." He made a strategic withdrawal.
"I'm not sure…" I said. "We're not staying here, Alex. This is only temporary until we can find somewhere else."
She came back in carrying a set of bedding. When she had gone into the room her hair had been dark. Now it was blonde. She tossed the bedding on to the other bed and went back for more.
"What's with the hair?" I asked Fionh.
"Oh, that. I showed her glamour and she hasn't managed to be stable for more than two minutes since. Her mind's a butterfly. She can't concentrate on anything. One moment she's a redhead, then a blonde, five minutes ago she had long hair, now it's short."
She appeared in the doorway. "You need to take me shopping," she said. Her hair was jet-black.
"There'll be time for that later."
"You always say that. I don't have any clothes. I haven't even got any bras." She looked down and her breasts visibly swelled inside her jumper. She looked up at me innocently.
"How am I supposed to buy you new clothes if you keep changing size?" I asked.
"Maybe I need different sizes for different days," she said. "Maybe I need a lot of new clothes."
"Maybe you can have jeans and a T-shirt and you do the rest with glamour?" I suggested.
"Oh, Dad! I have nothing to wear. Literally nothing!" Her clothes switched back to the hospital gown. I was sure it was more transparent than it had been originally.
I was rescued by Garvin. He peeked around the door and raised his eyebrow at the jumble that our living space had become.
"I have business," I told her. "Can you just put things back the way they were, please?"
"If I can't have any proper clothes, I'll just wear this then, shall I?" She followed me to the door.
I held up my hand. "We'll talk about this later."
"Humph!" She screwed her hands into fists and stomped off into the other room. The water pipes in the bathroom gurgled in response until Fionh glanced sharply at the bathroom, whereupon the gurgling ceased.
When I stepped outside, Garvin was leaning against the wall.
"You wanted her back," he said.
I sighed. "At least it's normal. I caught her this morning curled up in bed, sobbing. When I asked her what she was crying about she wouldn't tell me. She wouldn't even let me touch her."
"It's going to take time, and it's going to leave scars," he said.
"On all of us."
"You can't stay here forever. You do know that?" He pushed off from the wall and we walked slowly down the hallway.
"I know. Allowing her to rearrange the rooms does give her some sense of security, though. She needs the illusion of permanence."
"Mullbrook is making arrangements for another house. He was suggesting somewhere well-built, relatively fireproof, near a lake, or perhaps the sea?"
"Steward's humour? I think I've seen enough of the sea for a while."
"I think he was serious. With water and fire under the same roof, you could have some interesting times ahead."
"Tell me about it."
"We need to think about the future. You can't continue as Niall and Alex Petersen. You'll need new identities for a new life."
"I can't do that, Garvin. What about Katherine? I have to tell her something. What about my parents? They just lost their granddaughter. They can't lose their son as well. It would kill my mother. I have to think of something else."
"Perhaps it would be best to let things take their course. Alex can't go back, you know, even if she wants to. They will be looking for her and for anyone else who escaped from Porton Down. She's going to need to keep a low profile."
"Try telling her that."
On cue her head appeared around the doorway. "Can I go out?"
"Out where, sweetheart?"
"Just out. Am I a prisoner here? Fionh says I'm not a prisoner but she won't let me go anywhere."
"Where do you want to go?"
"Just out. Somewhere with people, shops, music. I'm fed up of being in one room."
"Technically it's three rooms."
She sighed. "Can I go out?"
"It's more complicated than that. What about your appearance? You need to be able to handle your power – so things don't get out of control."
"I'm fed up with being controlled!" That caused a growl from the plumbing.
"And that's exactly what I'm talking about," I reminded her.
Amber ran up the stairway and stopped. "I think you'd better come." She paused, waiting for me. I watched her expression.
"When can I go out?" asked Alex.
"Not now, sweetheart."
"You always say that. I'll be stuck in here forever. You got me out of one prison to put me in another. I'm supposed to be an adult. Why can't I do what I want?"
"It's time," said Amber.
"Alex, go back in your room and stay there until I get back. I have to go now."
"How come you can go and I can't? It's not fair!"
"No," I told her. "It's not fair. It isn't good and it isn't nice. Things are difficult, life is hard and the sooner you get used to it, the better. But right now I need to be with Blackbird, OK?"
"Why? What makes her so special? I'm supposed to be your daughter."
I hurried away, but then stopped and turned back to her.
"You are my daughter. I love you and I want you to remember that, but you're about to become a sister. Now do as you're told."
I watched her face change as she grasped the implications of what I'd just said.
Then I ran.