The Garden of Darkness

“It is simple,” said Clare. “If you shoot me, I won’t be able to tell you what it is.”


“Oh I won’t shoot you,” he said. “I’ll shoot your little friends.” There was a moment of silence.

Then he lifted the gun and shot Jem.

Blood and flesh exploded from Jem’s shoulder. Clare caught him as he fell, and they slid to the ground together. Ramah ran to them. In the horror, Clare could find only two words.

“Get him,” she said to Bear.





CHAPTER FORTY

RAMAH’S ARROW





JEM WAS BLEEDING. Clare ripped off part of her shirt and pressed it into the wound, and the cloth was scarlet almost immediately.

Clare felt rather than saw Bear begin what would almost certainly be the last action in his life. Then she looked up, because she was responsible for the great animal, and if Bear didn’t make it all the way to the Master, if he were shot down, she should have to watch.

Bear hurtled towards the Master. Clare could only hope that he would somehow survive long enough to reach him.

Then Clare heard someone shout out “NO!” and Bird Boy was running, running so hard that none of them had a chance to try and stop him. And Bird Boy, Clare realized, wasn’t running toward the Master; he was running towards Bear. He collided with Bear as the Master fired.

Bird Boy went down, shot in the chest.

Less than a moment later, Clare heard a resonating singing sound.

And then Doctor Sylver, the Master, the tempter, the ghoul, the murderer, fell, an arrow through his eye.

Ramah lowered her bow.





AS RAMAH RAN to Bird Boy, Clare pressed her shirt harder into Jem’s wound and put Jem’s hand over it. Ramah cradled Bird Boy in her arms.

“Help me,” Ramah said quietly.

“I have to get to Bird Boy,” Jem whispered.

“You can’t move,” said Clare. “You’ll bleed out.”

But she couldn’t stop him. Jem got to his hands and knees and, painfully, began to crawl. Clare would have carried him if she could have. As it was, she got him half upright, and he leaned on her until she was taking almost all his weight. In this way, slowly, Jem made his way to Bird Boy.

“Save him, Jem,” said Ramah. “There’s so much blood. So much.”

Clare let Jem down next to Bird Boy. Bird Boy’s chest had been torn open by the bullet. His face was spattered with blood, and Jem wiped it off. He tried to put his hands on Bird Boy’s chest, but, as Ramah had said, the blood was everywhere.

“Ramah?” Bird Boy called for her even though she was right there.

“I’m here. You’re going to be all right. You’re going to be—“

He took her hand and pressed it to his cheek.

“Ramah,” he said. And then he died.

“No,” said Ramah. And then, more softly, “Stay here, Bird Boy. Stay here.” But Bird Boy wouldn’t stay.

All the children except Britta stayed well back from the Master. She approached him, but as if she were terrified; she crawled on her hands and knees until she was next to him. His breathing was harsh and deep, stertorous, and Clare knew he was dying. Blood flowed in a torrent down his face, and as he convulsed, some of it scattered into the air. Britta was speckled with blood. She tried to cradle his head in her arms, but it kept lolling to one side. Blood was everywhere. It was almost enough, Clare was to think later, almost enough. But not quite.

Mirri didn’t move, but she looked at Ramah and Bird Boy. Her cheeks were wet. Her nose was running, and she wiped it with a sleeve.

“Why didn’t Bird Boy stay?” Mirri whispered to Clare.

“He just couldn’t,” said Clare. Jem was unconscious now. She knew he was fighting for his life.

“Is Jem going to leave too?” asked Mirri fearfully, and it was the first day they had met all over again, and Mirri was just a little girl who had seen too much death.

“I don’t know, honey,” said Clare. She put an arm around Ramah, who was weeping silently over Bird Boy’s body. “I just don’t know.”

The Master writhed on the ground, and the sounds he made were obscene. He tore at the the arrow, although it was all too late. Where his eye had been was now no more than a pulp of flesh and blood. Britta backed away from him with a kind of horror. He turned on his side, and then he lay quietly in the stillness of death.

Bear sat back on his haunches, lifted his head and howled at the sky.

“I wish Master were deader,” said Mirri.

“He’s dead enough,” said Clare.

And Ramah wept.





CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

IN THE MEADOW


SOME OF THE children took over houses near Thyme House, but many of them, especially the young ones, brought sleeping bags and stayed with Clare and the others. They all doted on Becca’s baby girl. Becca had named her ‘Little Clare.’ After a long and, to the children, scary labor, Clare had delivered the baby. Clare had remained serenely confident throughout, which lent strength to Becca.

“I’m beginning to feel like a matriarch,” Clare said after it was all over.