As I got closer, I realised that the patch of black had very straight edges. This was definitely not a natural occurrence. It had to be either man or monster made. In fact it looked suspiciously like a door. When I was a scant hundred or so yards away, I realised that that was exactly what it was. There even appeared to be a doorknob, just as black as the rest of it. I checked it for signs of a letterbox – perhaps I could drop Iabartu a little note, I thought sardonically, but there was only the door shape and the doorknob itself. I couldn’t work out what material it was made out of. It didn’t look like it was anything solid and, as I could actually circle round the whole of it, I noticed that it was paper thin along the edges. As the trail leading from the cloth went straight into it, and didn’t appear on the other side, this had to be the way I was supposed to go.
I shrugged to myself and used the corner of my t-shirt as a barrier between my skin and the doorknob to twist it open. There was a prickle across the length of my arm as I did so and then the door swung open. There was nothing on the other side, other than the rest of the valley, but the blue smoke went through it one way and didn’t reappear on the other side, so it had to lead somewhere. I tugged out the silver dirk and clutched it in my sweaty palms and took a deep breath then stepped through.
And went nowhere. The smoke might have disappeared through the doorway but I certainly didn’t. I was in exactly the same valley and in exactly the same place, just on the other side of the stupid door. That wasn’t meant to happen. I frowned and tried stepping through in the opposite direction. Again, nothing. I hopped back and forth through the frame, irritated. What kind of stupid magic door was this? I had the horrible feeling that somewhere Iabartu was watching me on some otherworld version of CCTV and absolutely pissing herself laughing.
I wondered if it was just me. I knelt down and pulled on a tuft of grass, crying out in surprised pain as it cut deep into the edges of my palm. A few drops of blood welled up, jewel-like. Cursing, I wiped the blood onto my jeans and used the dirk instead, gingerly holding the tips of the grass blades tight. Even though the dirk’s blade was razor sharp, I still had to saw through to free them from the ground. That was…different. I definitely wasn’t in Kansas any more. I stood up, still pinching the tips of the blades of grass and taking care not to cut myself further then flung them through the open doorway.
Like the blue smoke, they disappeared in midair. Huh. Rooting around in my bag, I found a bottle of water and unscrewed the lid, taking a long swig. Then I threw the bottle cap. It vanished as soon as it passed through the black edges of the frame. So it wasn’t a case of just being something substantially from another plane that couldn’t pass through. It was just me that couldn’t pass through. Perhaps it was to do with carrying silver. I was extraordinarily reluctant to leave my best weapons behind, but they’d do me no good stuck here in the middle of nowhere with no-one to fight anyway. I took the backpack off my shoulders and removed the arrows, placing them carefully on the ground next to the dirk, then experimented first by waving a hand and a leg through the doorway. They didn’t seem to go anywhere. There was only one way to know for sure. Casting a forlorn look at the grounded weapons, I tightly closed my eyes and jumped.
I opened one eyelid carefully, peeking first. Fuck. I still hadn’t gone anywhere. Opening the other eye, I kicked the doorway in frustration and felt the same prickle as before run up my leg. Yeah, yeah, so it was definitely a fantastic magic gateway in the middle of a fantastic magical otherworld plane filled with killer grass. It still didn’t help me in the slightest.
I kicked the door again, this time shouting at the top of my lungs. “You wanted me, you bitch! Now I’m here! Come on then!”
The door gently swung shut as if in answer. I paused for a second, hopeful, but nothing else happened. It must have just been the vibrations from my kick. Well this was just great. Here I was, striding into Iabartu’s home turf, ready to take her on and be the conquering hero and I’d end up having to go back to the portal with my tail between my legs. Except then I realised that the portal was sealed shut again so I couldn’t even do that. I imagined Corrigan, shaking his head at me like I was some sort of naughty petulant child. Shaking the image away, I tried to focus my thoughts. Maybe if I destroyed the door instead, then she would come along to investigate.
Picking up one of the silver arrows, I took out my bow and strung it, aiming directly at the centre of the door. I held my breath but the arrow just thudded uselessly into it, then bounced back onto the grass. I kicked the door again, pissed off. Then I scooped up the dirk and stabbed viciously at the black shape with all my strength. It didn’t even make a mark, in fact it was the door seemed completely impervious to the weapon. That did not bode well. I tried again. Nope. My fingertips bristled with angry heat and I dropped and punched the door, scraping my knuckles against the smooth impenetrable surface. The resulting pain reminded me that they were already tender from my battle to escape the faerie ring – and gave me an idea. If my blood was strong enough to break through a Fae’s conjured barrier, then surely it could manage this. And even if it didn’t work, I knew at least that Iabartu wanted me, or rather my blood, for whatever nefarious reasons she had cooked up. It could be that she’d sense it once it was spilled on her land.
I knelt down again and grabbed another tuft of glass sharp grass, wincing again as the blades cut through my skin. Instead of wiping the blood away this time, however, I smeared it onto the door frame and shook a couple of drops onto the ground for further effect. Then I stood back, and watched and waited.
I wasn’t quite sure what I’d been expecting, but I’d been hoping for something rather dramatic. Wyr blood should surely bubble and hiss against nasty otherworld materials. Instead, however, there was the faint smell of burning, that reminded me of the times when Johannes accidentally set his own hair alight when trying to light the ancient gas stove with a match. Nothing else happened. After a few tense moments, I reached out for the doorknob again and twisted. This time, the whole thing disintegrated in my bloody hands until I was left staring at nothing but the empty valley again. The blue trail still vanished in mid air, at the spot where the door had been.
Well, great, I thought sarcastically. Now there wasn’t even a door to try to enter; it was just a blank space of air. Some fucking saviour I’d turned out to be. Mack Attack wasn’t going to be very successful if there was nothing around to actually attack in the first place.
I was so angry with myself that I didn’t notice it at first, but once it got stronger and began tugging at my ponytail I began to realize that something was happening. Where there had only been still air that lay as flat as that of inside a sealed Egyptian mummy’s tomb, now there was wind. And wind that was getting stronger and stronger. It started to whistle around my ears and ripple the cloth of my t-shirt. The black material that I’d been carefully carrying on my shoulder whipped off and danced away, carried on an invisible current. I felt my backpack being lifted up from behind, pulling at my shoulders as if it was being grabbed by an unseen force, a ghostly mugger who wanted all of my worldly possessions. I tried desperately to keep my balance and steady myself, but there was nothing to grab onto and I felt myself falling backwards, landing on the sharp grass and feeling its points pierce into my skin through my clothes.
At that point a shadow passed over my face. I shielded my eyes from the bright sun and looked up, trying to make it what it was. It was moving at an unbelievable speed, getting larger by the second, cartwheeling and spinning through the sky. I tried in vain to scramble at my feet, but the gale around was too strong. It felt as if I was being pinned to the earth. All I could do was watch. There was a roaring thunder in my ears and, oddly, I thought again of Corrigan’s loud animalistic ire as I’d escaped into the portal. He didn’t matter now though, nothing mattered now. My time was up.
Chapter Twenty Seven
The swooping shape drew nearer and nearer. Despite the situation, I vaguely admired the elegance of the flight. She landed a few feet away from me, causing ripples of tremors to shake beneath me. At least the wind died down though, and the atmosphere returned to the heavy oppressive stillness from before.
As soon as I was able, I sprang to my feet. Belatedly it occurred to me that I’d dropped the bow after I’d tried to shoot the door, and that no doubt it had been carried away in the hurricane. Fortunately I’d had enough sense left in me to hook the dirk through one of the belt holes at the top of my jeans, where it was still secure. I pulled it out and held it in front of me, prepared to take action.
Iabartu stood relaxed in front of me, examining her fingernails, as if she needed to make an emergency appointment with her manicurist. She was the same height as Alex’s scrying had intimated and she was indeed floating just a few inches off the ground, as she had been when she had brutally attacked John. A sudden image of his corpse flashed through my mind and I felt the returning flash of fire. I shifted my weight and took a step forward. I was going to everything I could to destroy her.
“Bitch,” I muttered, without even realising it.
Her white eyes lifted up to mine. And they actually were white - she had dark pinpricks of pupils, but absolutely no irises. The effect was extraordinarily unsettling. Despite the shudder of revulsion her gaze caused in me, it occurred to me that she looked rather bored of me already.
“What’s your point?” Her voice was quiet and yet icily hard.
I swallowed and then steeled myself. She might be ice but I was all fire. I ignored her question. “I believe that you have been looking for me.” I impressed myself by keeping my voice steady.
Iabartu arched a thin eyebrow at me. “Why, yes, little dragon, I have.”
“You may be rather disappointed,” I countered, “I am more human than Wyr.”
She hissed, unexpectedly. “That is…unfortunate. But not disastrous or unexpected. It is your human nature that I knew would mean you would come looking for me if I pushed hard enough. Why do you think I left the portal open? Or the cloth for you to track? Your kind are so very sentimental and weak.”
