The Garden of Darkness

“You’re not going to die alone in this place, Clare,” said Jem.

Now that Clare was sitting up, she could see the yard outside the window. Doug and a girl with dark curly hair looked like they were trying to erect a tire swing. A girl with a braid was jumping rope. Clare could just hear the girl singing and jumping to the rhythm of the song



“Ring around a rosy

A pocket full of posies

Ashes, ashes, we all fall down.”





Britta walked into the bedroom. Clare started to get up, but the movement brought on the full weight of Pest. The fever and the pain began to settle over her again, and she was suddenly blanketed in agony. Jem eased her back down on the bed.





Ashes, ashes.





“Master’s coming,” Britta said. She looked at Clare. “You don’t know how much I wish I had your eyes. Maybe I could pay him back then.”

“What on earth do you think you owe Master?” Ramah asked Britta.

“I owe Master everything.”

“I’m not going to let him murder Clare,” said Jem. “It’s not going to happen.”

“She’s dying anyway,” said Britta. “She’s not going to walk out of here. And we’re going to show her to the other children. They can see what disobedience to the Master looks like.”

Clare felt Jem’s hand on her head as he smoothed back her hair. She wished she could see him, but her eyes were almost swollen shut.

“I’m taking her home,” he said.

“It’s over, Jem,” said Clare.

Clare knew she was growing weaker. She had to get Jem and Ramah back to Thyme House, but there was only one way, and that way was very bitter.

Clare abruptly pushed herself off the bed. She almost fell, but she knocked away Jem’s hand. Then she was on her feet and moving, unsteadily, towards the door. She found it hard to see her way.

“No,” said Jem. “Don’t do this.”

“I’m going to Master,” said Clare. “Thyme House is for you and Ramah and the others.”

Clare reached the door. Then she was teetering at the top of the stairs. Jem reached her and took her arm, but she shook free of him. The Master, now visible at the bottom of the stairs, began to bound up. A moment later Clare was in the Master’s arms, her face cradled against his chest.

“I’ve got you,” said the Master quietly.

“It’s not supposed to be this way,” Jem said.

“This is exactly how it’s supposed to be,” said the Master.

Then, with what effort she could, Clare reached up and clawed at the Master’s shirt, just enough to open it so that they could all see his Pest rash and the Cured patch.

“He’s made it all up about the blood of blue-eyed children being a cure for him,” she said. “He just likes killing.”

“You can’t do this,” said Jem, and Clare didn’t know if he were speaking to her or to the Master.

“Britta,” said the Master slowly, “I’m not done with these house guests. You and Doug get Jem and Ramah nicely tied up, will you? They should co-operate; if they don’t, I can make the end unpleasant for their friend.”

“Let Jem and Ramah go,” said Clare. “That’s why I came to you now. So you’d let them go.”

“Didn’t work out, did it?” said the Master.

Then the Master looked down into Clare’s eyes, and she could see her newly misshapen face reflected in the washed out blue of his eyes.

How do you like your blue eyed boy Death, she thought. ee cummings, she thought. no caps.





INTERLUDE





THERE WAS A flash of light that seared through Clare’s brain. The flash lit up her whole mind and burned it and left her weak and panting. A familiar voice was yelling something about convulsions.

Clare roused herself. Before the final sleep, she must tell Jem how she loved him. With a cure, there might have been a full lifetime in which to do it. Now she wished only for a week, a day, an hour. But you can’t always get what you want. You can’t always get what you want. And sometimes, even if you try, you can’t get what you need.





CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN





JOURNEYS END





CLARE SLEPT FOR a while in the Master’s arms. She couldn’t help it. When she awoke, she was in the collection room in the basement, lying on a cot. The light in the room was bright; hurricane lanterns were everywhere, and the tapestries, paintings and statues stood out sharply. She saw that Ramah’s bow and quiver were on the large table, and she wondered if Ramah had tried to threaten the Master.

Then she saw Ramah and Jem. Their backs were against the wall, and their arms and legs were bound. Their mouths were sealed with silver tape. Jem had a black eye and a large scratch across his cheek. There was no sign of Bear.

Jem struggled in his bonds when he saw she was awake. The Master looked at him dispassionately.

“I’m killing Clare first, and then I’m killing you,” he said. “For purely practical reasons. But as Shakespeare says, ‘journeys finish when lovers meet.’”