Intaglio Dragons All The Way Down

chapter 14: Messenger



Cole’s dream started as it always did: he sat next to her body, seconds before her death.

“I love you, Ava,” he gasped. “I have always loved you... I always will.”

She didn’t answer, of course; that wasn’t part of the dream. Cole waited for the moment, his gaze on the slant of sunlight in her eyes, like a clear stream slowly dulling with silt. Ava lay still and cold, the shallow rise and fall of her chest slowing with each breath, her hand icy despite the growing warmth of the day. As he watched (as he always did), her eyes dilated outward until they were no longer blue but black, unseeing.

“No... please, god, no...” he cried. “Don’t leave me.”

Sobs heaved from his chest, the ache spreading inside him until pain was all he was. He had no shell any longer, nothing to hold back the deluge that drowned him where he knelt. She was gone from him. Lost forever.

“Hullo…?”

The voice came from the distant trees. Cole’s face bobbed up at the sound. He’d never dreamt that before. A lone figure appeared in the haze of blue shadows, like a diver slowly rising from the depths. It was a woman coming from further up the beach, her steps slow and steady.

She cupped her hand around her mouth and called out to him as she reached the tree line.

“D’you need some help there?”

Cole sat up, wiping his face with his hands, his heart hammering against the walls of his chest. There was something about the woman’s build, her fair hair – brown on top, but sun-bleached caramel at the bottom of her braid – and her gait as she walked, half-hidden in the shadows of the canopy that had his chest tightening with anticipation.

“Can I bring you some help?” the woman called.

‘It can’t be…’

“Can she be moved?” she asked, louder now. “There are others up the beach. I could get some’un to help you.”

Cole laid Ava’s hand back against her chest with trembling fingers. He climbed shakily to his feet, his voice breaking with grief and hope.

“There’s no point,” he managed to answer. “She’s already gone.”

The woman stepped forward, her appearance leaving no room for doubt.

‘Hanna…’ He’d never dreamt this before. She was new and it terrified him.

She walked toward him, her eyes on Ava’s stilled form. As she neared, she lifted her eyes to Cole, the expression so exactly his sister it nearly took him to his knees. It was Hanna Thomas as she’d been in life, the light humour and joy in her features so right that it left his throat aching with tears.

“You came back,” he croaked, eyes brimming with tears of grief for Ava, and joy for his sister’s return. It made no sense, but she was here. She was alive.

The woman’s face rippled in confusion. She glanced over her shoulder as if expecting someone else to be there. When she turned back, she gave him a sympathetic smile.

“Others survived,” she said, her brogue the only difference to his sister’s voice. “They’re up there on the beach now.”

She offered her open palm and Cole reached out unsteadily for his sister’s hand. She closed her fingers around his hand, squeezing three times. ‘I love you…’ Cole opened his mouth to speak, but only a sob came out.

“You’re not alone,” she said gently, pulling him away from Ava, her fingers tight around his. “There are others who’ve made it to the shore. Come…”

: : : : : : : : : :

Ava floated above the field, watching the three figures: two standing, one laying, unmoving, on the ground. The snake and the coins were visible below her, the curve of the river echoing with Delft blue, Davy’s green in the swirl of the sea grass. As she watched, two of the figures turned and walked down the beach, leaving her – in the air, on the grass – alone.

‘Wait for me!’ she called. ‘Wait!’

But her cry was only the wind, her voice lost in the calling of sea birds in the sky.

: : : : : : : : : :

Ava woke alone in the charcoal hues of pre-dawn, the bed beside her empty and cold. The room was dimly lit with greenish light coming from the window that overlooked the ocean. Within the window frame there was a silhouette.

“Cole…?”

His shadow turned toward her, but didn’t leave his place.

“Sorry,” he answered. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Ava squinted, unnerved by his voice. His voice was slightly different. Thicker somehow, like he’d been coughing or crying.

“Cole,” she called hesitantly. “Is something wrong?”

He laughed (or sobbed,) she couldn’t tell, not without seeing his face. He turned back to the window, putting his hand against the pane. Staring out into the slow bloom of dawn.

“I dreamt about her,” he said brokenly. ‘Crying then,’ her mind observed.

“About?”

“About Hanna,” he said, leaning in to the window. Ava realized he was looking out to the cliffs far beyond the beach, where Hanna had defied death by jumping, and Cole had waited for her at the bottom. “I… I haven’t dreamed about her once… not once… since she died.” He shuddered, his forehead pressing against the pane. “But I dreamed of her tonight.”

Ava slid under the sheets, soft warmth giving way to crisp cold. She took hesitant steps across the room. When she reached the window, Cole dropped a hand down from the glass, reaching out for her with chilled fingers. As with the night before, a hint of memory, hidden in the dark waters of her mind, slid toward the light, like a fish about to surface, fading before she could get a glimpse of what it was. This moment was too pressing, Cole’s pain too sharp.

“What did you dream?”

This close, she could see his expression. A smile flickered at the edges of his lips.

“I dreamed of the field after the storm.” He gazed at her, then back to his vigil at the window. “I dreamed of the snake and the coins.”

Ava felt the other sense tug once more, moving closer to the shallows of her conscious mind. Her eyebrows pulled together in concentration as she following his line of sight to the seascape and the rocky peaks beyond. There’d been something she’d dreamed too, but every time she pulled it forward, it faded once more.

“My painting,” she breathed.

Cole’s fingers tightened around hers.

“The dream I had after Hanna died. The same one… but this time it didn’t end.”

Ava turned in shock, her hand slipping out of his fingers, rising in surprise.

“It didn’t end?” she gasped. “But… but how?”

Cole's laughed tiredly.

“I dunno,” he said with a shrug. “But usually it’s the same: me on the grass, and you. But this time, instead of ending, there was more…”

Cole continued talking but Ava’s mind skittered feverishly with the news. The thing under the water of her mind was very close. She could feel its scales, could run her hand over the shape of it, and she knew its name: Hanna Thomas.

She’d dreamed her too.

“…and she took my hand, Ava. She squeezed my fingers the way she did when we were kids.” He took her hand and squeezing three times. “Then she told me it was going to be okay.” Cole’s voice broke, and though he didn’t let go of her fingers, he turned again to the window. “And then she led me up the beach. I just knew… I knew it was all going to be all right.”

“And me?” Ava asked. “Was I there?”

The muscle in his jaw began to jump at her question. After a moment’s delay, he turned to meet her eyes.

“The rest of the dream was the same.”

“Oh…”

Ava watched the breaking waves on the beach, the pale blue lines growing lighter as dawn neared. She could remember a part of her dream now, and it terrified her.

‘He left ME behind this time!’

Ava’s heart was pounding even before she spoke. She knew how Cole felt about these things, but it had to be said.

“Cole, I… I want you to let Dad read your teacup sometime.”

He made a strangled noise, turning completely from the window, letting go of her hand.

“Uh-uh, no way.”

“Why not?”

He paused for a moment, crossing his arms and then uncrossing them again, as if realizing what he’d done. He was either on edge or annoyed. Outside, the first rays of light reached the horizon, bright crimson spreading out under purple clouds that covering the sky.

“Look,” he said, running his fingers along her arm, “I just have a hard time believing that stuff. Last time when he read your teacup, it was just kind of... messed up.”

Ava put her hands on her hips.

“Well if you don’t believe it, then what’s the problem?” There was aggravation threaded through her tone as much as persuasion.

“Last time was just a little much,” Cole answered , his hands settling atop her shoulders as he moved away from the window.

“But you don’t believe it,” she grumbled, glaring at him. “So why not?”

“It’s just too weird.”

“But Cole...” Ava started, “if something’s changed, then I want to know what. I want to know how that happened!”

Cole tipped up her chin so she looked at him.

“Yesterday was big for me, Ava. I finally told my Dad my side of things.” He released a heavy sigh before continuing, “I’ve been trying to do that for years. It was f*cked-up and awful, but it happened.”

“I’m glad, but I still think—”

“No,” Cole interrupted. “Look,” he said, “It’s probably just because of the things with my dad, and the things your father told me about. Mix it all together, my dreams have changed. Because things here…” he picked up her hand and placed it against his chest, “...are changing. So maybe my dreams are too.”

“Maybe,” Ava muttered, narrowing her eyes like she didn’t quite believe him.

Cole’s mouth twitched in amusement.

“Haven’t sold you on a logical explanation yet?”

She rolled her eyes. Across the dark water, bands of gold and red light filled the sky, making the dark bedroom less ominous. She could see Cole’s face clearer now, the anguish fading with the coming of day.

“I want Dad to read your teacup before he leaves for Europe.”

“I’ll talk to your Dad. No problem,” Cole said. “But I am not letting him read my teacup.”

Ava scowled petulantly.

“Yet,” she added. Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper.

“What did you say?”

She shrugged, a hint of a smirk pulling up the corners of her mouth.

“Did you just say, ‘yet’?” he asked, chuckling as he wrapped his arms around her.

“Maybe,” she said, the admission muffled against his shoulder. This time, the smirk was definitely there.

Cole chuckled.

“Ava Brooks, you might just be the most stubborn person I’ve ever met.”

“After you,” she corrected.

Cole grinned, twisting around to tickle her ribs.

“Oh, you’re going to pay for that.”

With a shriek, the two of them ran back to bed.

: : : : : : : : : :

They woke to the sound of persistent knocking. It was late morning or very early afternoon, warm yellow light outlining the heavy curtains.

“F*ck!” Ava hissed. “I’m not dressed!”

She pulled the covers up to her chin so that only her face and the top of her head were visible. Cole stumbled out of bed. He searched his duffel bag for a pair of shorts.

“Hold on!” he called over his shoulder.

A few more steps and Cole pulled open the door. He was expecting Nina, but to his surprise, it was his father.

“Dad,” Cole said, stepping back.

The older man looked exhausted this morning, the lines around his eyes more deeply etched.

“Yes, uh...” he said, clearing his throat. “Nina’s feeling better this morning. She’s making a big breakfast for us all. Sent me to get you both.”

He waited awkwardly, not holding Cole’s eyes, just staring at the floor. He was clearly uncomfortable in the role of messenger. Ava came to the rescue.

“Tell Nina we’ll be right down,” she called from the bed.

“Right then,” Frank muttered, “I’ll do that.” Without a backward glance he made a hasty retreat down the stairs.

Cole pushed the door closed with a click, confusion colouring his features. Usually he and Frank just avoided each other after a fight; his father’s appearance this morning had unsettled him.

“What the hell was that about?”

Ava grinned.

“I’d say that’s your Dad making an effort.”