It was a dreary place, with plain walls and wooden floors. It felt a little bit like being in the house of a dying relative. Everyone spoke in hushed voices and pattered around the building quietly.
A mousy girl of about seventeen took Jack’s coat and asked us how many nights we would like to stay. Jack and I didn’t know the answer to that question, but the girl didn’t seem to mind and said we could stay as long as we liked. The accommodation was cheap – and once we entered our room I could see why. Just like everything else in Concord City, the room was grey. Grey walls with musty carpet and dull bed sheets.
Jack and I stood in the doorway and observed the room.
‘I’ve stayed in better,’ I mused, thinking of the lodge we had stayed at a few nights ago.
There were two single beds on either side of the room. Between them was a fireplace. In the corner stood a mirror; on the other side was a basin.
‘Hopefully it will only be for one night,’ Jack said with a frown.
‘It reminds me of my room at the Forsythe manor,’ I said, sitting on the bed and testing its bounciness.
The blankets were scratchy, but I wouldn’t need them to keep warm. For Jack’s comfort, I lit a fire in the grate, where it crackled merrily for hours.
Jack and I sat in bed talking for a long while before we fell asleep. Although we had finally reached Concord City, walked over a hundred miles and spent the last week eating stale bread, it did not feel as though we had accomplished anything. We were tired and sore. Yes, I was thankful that the journey was over – but there was still so much to do.
Just as I was about to nod off, Jack muttered. ‘I wonder if I will see Georgia.’
I wasn’t sure, but I thought it was because of this that I dreamed about Georgia Deveraux that night. In the dream she had a high, shrill voice and would not stop laughing at me. Every time I told her to stop, she would laugh harder. Jack was there too, laughing at me with Georgia. I was so mad at them that I set the pair alight. But this did not stop them. They pointed at me, their grotesque, burning flesh dripping down their faces while they leered at me. Their lips met and their melting flesh combined and soon they were the same person.
I woke in a cold sweat, panting. My nightdress was drenched and was starting to sizzle. Jack had not noticed my nightmare and was snoring gently in his own bed. It took a few minutes to tell myself that the melting flesh had not really been Jack and even if it had been him, he would have healed anyway.
It occurred to me that Jack’s Power was probably one of the reasons I felt so comfortable around him. I didn’t have to be careful like I did with Helena. Perhaps that was why we were such a good pair. Didn’t he hold my hand, when others recoiled in fear when they learned that I was a Fire-Mage?
I thought of the woman in Athol Hills, who had refused to let me enter her home because I was a Fire-Mage. Jack really was extraordinary. I had never met another Mage so willing to let their guard down in the presence of a ‘demon’ like myself. Yet here he was, fast asleep only a few feet away. Perhaps it was Jack’s disregard for his own safety that allowed him to relax in my presence. Or maybe it was the fact that he did not endure pain in the way others did. Whatever the reason, I knew I had a true friend in Jack Greenwood. He had never judged me because of my Power, like others had. Even my parents, who always had control, had been outcasts in our village.
Jack stirred and I quickly pretended to be asleep. I hadn’t realised it at the time, but I had been staring at his sleeping form for several minutes. He had one leg sticking out of the blanket, dangling off the side of the bed. He wore grey socks – one of which had a hole in the top. I could see his big toe poking through the material. I smiled to myself and rolled onto my side. What had I done to deserve such a selfless friend?
~
‘Wear something nice,’ Jack told me the next morning.
‘I don’t have something nice,’ I said, rummaging through my rucksack.
‘If you are seeking an audience with The Realm, you will need to look presentable,’ Jack explained.
‘That’s all well and good,’ I said, throwing down one of my dresses. ‘Except I don’t own anything like that.’
‘What about that blue dress?’ Jack asked. ‘The one that ties up at the back. I like that one.’
I flushed scarlet. ‘It’s dirty.’
‘So wash it’ said Jack, pulling his nightshirt off.
I turned away, pink in the face. ‘It won’t dry in time.’
Jack made a tutting noise and I chanced a glance at him. He stood bare-chested, with a sardonic expression on his face. ‘Your body runs at an abnormally high temperature. It will be dry in no time.’
Muttering to myself, I proceeded to the basin where I dunked my dress into it. Grabbing a bar of soap I began to scrub angrily until the water was a murky brown.
‘Can you wash this while you’re there?’ Jack threw his own shirt at me.
‘Because I’m a girl?’ I grumbled.