Guardians Book One - Magic Rising

Chapter Thirty Seven

What lay behind the door, from the alley, seemed nothing more than blackness. Kath glanced up at Pes, who nodded reassuringly.

"Don't worry," he said, smiling at her. "Like Lady said. Death won't harm you."

"There's nothing in there," said Kath, peering through the doorframe. Lady stepped up closer to them, and for the first time since meeting her Kath saw a faint worry lines on her face, a nervousness around her eyes.

"Remember to remain alert," she said, ostensibly to Kath, although she was looking up at Pes. He met her worried gaze.

"We'll be fine," he said, very gently. "No need to worry."

"I am merely worried because I do not appreciate being unable to reach a potential enemy," said Lady, a little too sharply. "If I am required to fight, for example. If you cannot return to me."

Lady had dropped her voice, but Kath still heard, and swallowed down hard on the worry. Lady's unsure? She's never unsure. She looked back at the dark doorway. I have no idea what the hell is through there...Her eyes slid down to James again, silent and still, and her heart contracted. But I don't have a choice. My friends are always the ones who've cared for me. They're my family. I won't abandon him. She dug her nails into her palms, willing down the rising fear.

Pes' smile was lop-sided as he looked at Lady, his eyes unreadable. "You'd fight Death for us?" With a start Kath realised he didn't entirely mean 'us', as much as 'me'. She glanced away for a second, suddenly awkward to be intruding on them again.

"Of course I would," Lady flared. "No-one will touch you." And her pale cheeks pinked a touch, as if she realised she'd said too much. Pes merely held her gaze for a moment too long, and Kath watched his eyes flicker with confusion, wonder, things she couldn't even understand. Lady tossed her hair, her lips tight, and once again, for the first time since Kath had known her, was the first to break the eye contact.

"Kath," she said, a tremor in her voice.

"Yeah?" Kath tried to keep her voice level and optimistic.

Lady stepped forward. Pes was still watching her, but she spoke to Kath only, this time. "If you see – my father. Please. Tell him...it's OK. That I understand." Her voice became a whisper on the air. "That I love him."

"Lady," said Kath, her heart squeezing up in her chest again. "Of course I will, of course." She paused, then leaned in to give Lady a brief hug. This time, Lady squeezed back, just a little.

"Right," Kath said, as Lady pulled back, moving to stand protectively by James, folding her arms. The strong muscles on her arms tensed as she flexed them, and Kath wondered if she was mentally preparing to fight denuded of her weapons. Not that she doesn't have years of experience of that, too! "Pes, you ready?"

"Most definitely," the Guardian replied, stepping forward beside her. Kath smiled up at him, only a little tremulously. He patted her arm. "Honestly, it'll be fine. We just need to not get lost, or forget what's going on. We're pretty tough-minded souls, I reckon. Death doesn't want us. And I don't think they want James yet, either. Be polite and firm, and it'll all be a breeze."

"OK,"  said Kath, deeply glad she had him. It was strange, to think of having the walking embodiment of disease as a mate, but that was what had happened. She gave Lady one last smile that she hoped looked more confident than she felt, shoved away the butterflies in her stomach and stepped over the threshold.

Inside what not what she had expected.

"This is some kinda stately home," she said, turning in a circle to admire the Georgian hallway. It was all high ceilings, white walls and gold and white fruit mouldings, massive mirrors, pillars bearing flower vases, elegantly tiled floor, the works. Although all the windows were covered with heavy black velvet curtains, light was issuing in from somewhere, throwing strange shadows from the faux-Grecian marble statues against the walls. There were closed doors all down the corridor, not unlike the one Kath had just walked through. Pes followed her in, and Kath rammed some bravado into her voice, in spite of the strange surrounding. "Right! Where's the Big D? Let's go get James back." She blinked. "Hey, how'd your clothes change? What the hell is that on your face?" Instead of his usual Victorian suit and waistcoat, Pes was wearing something closer to a morning-suit, pristine and black. His eyes and nose were covered with, of all things, a long, faintly birdlike, beaky mask, which extended a good foot or so in front of him, making his ravaged face look threatening and unearthly. For a moment he looked both infinitely gentle and truly horrifying, an ancient monster to bring or fight plague, to take it into himself and spare people, to teach and bear weapons against the attacks on the flesh...or to wipe out proud civilisations. He smiled and the impression mercifully faded. To cover herself, Kath glanced down. "Hey, where're my clothes?" Her perfectly acceptable jeans and t-shirt had morphed into a stupid floor-length orange ballgown, ridiculous, impractical sparkly shoes and as she groped at her face, discovered that she too was wearing a mask. She tugged it off. "What's this?" It was covered with stylised teeth and whiskers, and the sides had hanks of fur made into a mane. "A lion! Hah!" She dropped the mask in disgust, tugging at the heavy silk skirt. "Oh, no. Where do I get changed?"

Pes laughed. "Don't worry. It's not real. Concentrate on it." Kath gave him a dubious look, but focussed hard on the material. After a moment, she found he was right; under the appearance of the dress her own clothes were there, flicking as the two visions fought to share the same space in her gaze. Her eyes watered.

"Fine, fine," she said, willing the embarrassing skirt fabric to disappear into the illusion it was under her fingers. Her senses were clearly not convinced. It was a good illusion, at any rate; she could really feel the weight of the skirt, the bodice pressing too-tight against her ribcage. She breathed in deeply, to push away the unwanted belief in the dress. "Why are we dressed like it's the seventeenth century?"

Pes laughed again. "Something like that! And it's just tradition, I'm afraid. Death loves a good tradition. They're based on what our inner souls truly are, I've been told." He bent to pick up her discarded mask, holding it back out to her. "I'd keep this on, if I were you. Better to fit in.  While Death will not harm you, this is still a liminal place. Not quite here or there."

"Drama," Kath said, rolling her eyes, but accepting and donning the mask before walking forward a few paces to stare into one of the mirrors. Her disgusted expression clashed nicely with the lion mask. "Rrr," she said, holding up her hands in claws. Pes grinned, walking up behind her.

"Very nice, very threatening," he said, mock-serious.

"Bog off," said Kath, almost on autopilot, but sticking out her tongue at him in the mirror. The banter was surprisingly calming, so normal it seemed almost ridiculous to remember she was just mucking about with a mate in a hallway leading to the dance of Death, to save her friend's life. "Let's go, right? Let's do this and get out of here. The second James is OK, the happier I'll be. Which door?" She marched up to one at random and tugged the gold doorknob. It didn't turn. "Locked!"

"Those doors aren't for us," said Pes, pointing down the hallway. "That double door at the end, that's the one."

"Why're there so many, then?" Kath forced herself not to hike up the skirts as she strode forward. They still fooled her legs that she couldn't step as far as she knew she could. Damn dress!

"They are for other people," said Pes, delicately, and left it at that. Kath got the hint. A shudder ran through her, and she tried to just look straight ahead. What if one of the doors opens? Does that mean...?

"Double doors. Gotcha." She focussed on them. "Do I knock or what?"

"I think it's best to be polite," said Pes. They walked in silence for a little longer down the apparently endless hallway, past yet more marble statues, arms held up in elegant poses, and yet more gilded lamps. Kath ruffled up her short hair to make it spike more behind the fur of the mask. James. Gotta think of James. Whatever's there, I can do it. I fought Night. I had the Lord of Light. I'm OK. I'm OK. Her expression in the mirror said I'm OK. She wished she believed it.

They reached the end of the hallway.

"Here we are," said Pes, needlessly, although Kath was glad for the words in the empty silence.

"Let's go, then," she said, her heart in her throat, and rapped her knuckles on the white doors.