The Garden of Darkness

“‘Journeys end in lovers meeting,’” said Clare. “Twelfth Night. You got it wrong. Asshole.”


Clare watched as the Master turned away from Jem and Ramah. And then all of his attention was on her.

“I want to look into your eyes while I do it,” he said. And then he was kneeling in front of her. “They are so very blue. I’ve never seen eyes like yours—not in thirty years of looking. Maybe yours won’t fade at the end.” And she saw that he had a knife in his hand.

She tried to swallow, but her throat was too swollen. She tried to think of something she could say to stop him, but a high-pitched whine in her ears kept her from being able to think. She hoped that Jem and Ramah would somehow get away—they were strong and filled with ingenuity. Surely they would.

“I need to drink the blood before you die,” the Master said. “That’s Part One; I have to do that. Then I’m going to kill you. That’s Part Two, that’s recreation, but I have to do it, too.” He sounded apologetic. Then his knife was under her ear. She felt a trickle of blood run down her neck as the cold metal touched her. The Master leaned down and licked it up.

Despite the tape on his mouth, Clare thought she could hear Jem scream. Or maybe she just knew he was screaming, swearing, struggling.

Pain. Life. Love. It was all about to end.

And then there was a huge clatter, and the door to the collection room burst open. Clare had trouble distinguishing the shapes that rushed in, and when she could, she thought at first she must be hallucinating. But not after one of them spoke.

“What are you doing?” asked Mirri. “Let her go.”





CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT





WHAT HAPPENED NEXT





THE MASTER LEAPT to his feet in surprise, lowered his knife and simply stared. They were all there.

“I think we’d better knock him over,” said Bird Boy.

“Let’s all jump on him,” said Tilda.

“Watch out for that knife,” said Abel.

The Master looked down at his hand, as if he were surprised to find a knife still there.

Meanwhile, Sarai walked over to Ramah and Jem and pulled the tape off their mouths.

“Get Clare away from Master,” gasped Jem.

Clare listened to the disorganized clamor of voices with joy. And then she realized that she had a chance, weak as she was, to make things a little more difficult for the Master. The cot she was lying on wasn’t quite flush with the wall. As the Master faced the children from Thyme House, Clare tried to move towards the gap. Movement was agony—as she pushed herself back from the lip of the cot, she felt as if her skin were being scraped from her body.

The Master turned for a moment and saw what she was doing, and when he did, as she pushed herself into the gap, he opened his mouth in a wide smile. She saw all his madness revealed in that smile, and then the smile grew.

Clare fell.

The fall to the floor was painful, but she didn’t care. Now the Master stood in front of the cot, and she was behind it.

And then, at the back of the room, Clare saw Bear. The enormous dog had his hackles up and was growling softly.

Bear’s first leap took him halfway across the room. His paws scrabbled on the floor as he landed and, for a moment, he lost his footing. Then he was up. Mirri was in his way, but with his bulk he pushed her aside.

Now he was facing the Master.

But the Master did not look afraid; he didn’t even look angry. He shouted out and then filled the room with his weird laughter. The Master pulled up the flimsy cot she had been lying on and held it out like a shield.

Bear lunged forward, shattering the wooden frame of the cot and then leaping through it as if it were a hoop at the circus. The Master fell back against the wall. With one hand, the Master somehow managed to take Bear by the throat and hold him off. With the other, he stabbed at the dog.

Bear yelped, but he did not fall back.

“Somebody get us loose,” said Jem.

“Can’t you see?” said Mirri. “We’re busy.”

There was a noise in the hallway, and then Dante was with them.

“Untie us,” said Jem. “Hurry.”

Bear yelped again, and then he twisted in the air and broke the Master’s grip. Now he was snarling. A spray of blood spattered the floor and wall, and Clare felt the droplets on her face. Clare didn’t know if the blood were the Master’s or Bear’s, but she thought she knew what would come next: Bear would tear out the Master’s throat. But Bear was off-balance, and the Master fell back against a tapestry, still living, still breathing.

And then, in an instant, the Master was gone.





BEAR CRAWLED TO Clare and, as they lay there, he licked her pitifully changed face. Jem, newly freed by Dante, ran to them both.

“Save Bear,” said Clare. Jem ran his hands over the dog without once taking his eyes from Clare. Bear heaved himself to his feet, shook off Jem, and started licking Clare again.