Val pulled open the screen door, feeling as if she were walking through a dream landscape. Everything was at once familiar and strange. The front door was unlocked, the television off in the living room. Despite the fact that it was past noon, the house was dark.
It was unnerving to be in the same place where she had seen Tom draped over her mother, but weirder still was how small the room seemed. Somehow it had grown in her mind until it was so vast that she couldn't imagine crossing it to get back to her own bedroom.
Val swung the sword off her shoulder and dropped her backpack onto the couch. "Mom?" she called softly. There was no answer.
"Just find the keys," Luis said. "It's easier to get forgiveness than permission."
Val half-turned her head to snap at him, but movement on the stairs stopped her.
"Val," her mother said, rushing down the steps, only to stop at the lower landing. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her face un-made up, and her hair wild. Val felt everything at once: guilt at making her mother so upset, serves-her-right satisfaction that her mother was suffering, and profound exhaustion. She wanted them both to stop feeling so miserable, but she had no idea how to make that happen.
Val's mother walked the last few steps slowly and hugged her hard. Val leaned against her mother's shoulder, smelling soap and faint perfume. Eyes burning with sudden emotion, she pulled away.
"I was so worried. I kept thinking you would come in, just like this, but you didn't. For days and days you didn't." Her mother's voice shrilled and broke.
"I'm here now," Val said.
"Oh, honey." Val's mother reached out hesitantly to stroke her fingers across Val's head. "You're so thin. And your hair—"
Val twisted out from under her hand. "Leave it, Mom. I like my hair."
Her mother blanched. "That's not what I meant. You always look beautiful, Valerie. You just look so different."
"I am different," Val said.
"Val," Luis warned. "The keys."
She scowled at him, took a breath. "I need to borrow the car."
"You've been gone for weeks." Val's mother looked at Luis for the first time. "You can't be leaving again."
"I'll be back tomorrow."
"No." Val's mother's voice had a note of panic in it. "Valerie, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry about everything. You don't know how worried I've been about you, the things that I've been imagining. I kept waiting for the phone call that would say the police had found you dead in a ditch. You can't put me through that again."
"There's something I have to do," Val said. "And I don't have much time. Look, I don't understand about you and Tom. I don't know what you were thinking or how it happened, but—"
"You must think that I—"
"But I don't care anymore."
"Then why—" she started.
"This isn't about you and I can't come home until it's finished. Please."
Her mother sighed. "You failed your driving test."
"Can you drive?" Luis asked.
"I have my permit," Val said to her mother, then glanced at Luis. "I can drive fine. I just can't parallel park."
Val's mother padded into the kitchen and came back with a key and an alarm hanging from a key-chain with a rhinestone "R" on it. "I owe you some trust, Valerie, so here it is. Don't make me regret it."
"I won't," Val said.
Val's mother dropped the keys into Val's hand. "You promise you'll be back tomorrow? Promise me."
Val thought of the way her lips had burned when she hadn't kept her promise to return to Ravus on time. She nodded. Luis opened the front door. Val turned toward it, not looking at her mother. "You're still my mom," Val said.
As Val walked down her front steps, she felt the sun on her face, and it seemed that at least one thing might be okay.
Val drove the car through the familiar roads, reminding herself to signal and watch her speed. She hoped that no one would pull them over.
"You know," Luis said, "the last time I was in a car it was my grandma's Bug and we were going to the store for something on a holiday—Thanksgiving, I think. She lived out on Long Island where you need cars to get around. I remember it because my dad had pulled me aside earlier to tell me that he could see goblins in the garden."
Val said nothing. She was concentrating on the road.
She steered the Miata past the pillars that flanked the entrance of the graveyard, the brick of them covered by looping tendrils of leafless vines. The cemetery itself swelled into a hill, dotted with white stones and burial vaults. Despite the fact that it was late November, the grass there was still green.
"Do you see anything?" Val asked. "It just looks like any other cemetery to me."
Luis didn't answer at first. He stared out the window, one hand unconsciously coming up to touch the clouding glass. "That's because you're blind."
Val stepped on the break, stopping them short. "What do you see?"
"They're everywhere." Luis put his hand on the door handle, his voice little more than breath.
"Luis?" Val turned off the car.
His voice sounded distant, as if he were speaking to himself. "God, look at them. Leathery wings. Black eyes. Long, clawed fingers." Then he looked over at Val, like he'd suddenly remembered her. "Get down!"
She lunged over, throwing her head into his lap, feeling the warmth of his arms coming down on her as air whipped over the top of the car.
"What's happening?" Val shouted over the keening of the wind. Something scratched at the leather roof of the car and the hood shook.
Then the air stilled, dropping away to nothing. As Val slowly lifted her head, it seemed to her that not even a leaf moved with a breeze. The whole graveyard had gone quiet.
"This whole car is fiberglass." Luis looked up. "They could claw right through the roof if they wanted to."
"Why don't they?"
"I'm guessing they're waiting to see if we're here to dump some flowers on a grave."
"They don't need to do that. We're coming out." Leaning into the backseat, Val unwrapped the glass sword. Luis grabbed Val's backpack and slung it over his shoulder.
Val closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her stomach churned, the way it did before a lacrosse game, but this was different. Her body felt distant, mechanical. Her senses narrowed to notice every sound, each shift in color and shape, but little else. Adrenaline called to her blood, chilling her fingers, speeding her heart.
Looking down at the sword, Val opened the door and stepped out onto the gravel. "I come in peace," she said. "Take me to your leader."
Invisible fingers closed on her skin, pinching the flesh, tearing at her hair, pushing and pulling her into the hill, where clumps of grass rose up and scampered away from the black dirt. She tried to scream as she fell forward, facedown in the earth, breathing the rich mineral smell as she choked on her shriek. Her arms pushed against the soil as she tried to lever herself up, but the dirt and rock and grass gave beneath her and she tumbled down into the root-wrapped darkness.
Val awoke in golden chains in a hall filled with faeries.
On a dais of dirt, a white-haired knight sat on a throne of braided birch, its bark as pale as bone. He leaned forward and beckoned to a green-skinned, winged girl who regarded Val with black, alien eyes. The winged faerie leaned down and spoke softly to the knight on the throne. His lips twisted into what might have been a smile.
Above her was the underside of the hill, hollow as a bowl, and hung with long roots that grasped and turned as though they were fingers that couldn't quite reach what they desired.