The buzzing has stopped, and it’s like colour has come back into the world, only I hadn’t noticed it’d gone away in the first place. The walls aren’t talking to me any more; my heart isn’t racing. I take a deep breath.
Angel’s in my room.
‘Why are you here?’
‘I came to check on you. Good job, by the way; you wouldn’t drink that stuff for Aoife.’
‘But I did for you . . .’
‘I tricked you.’ She grins. And then grimaces. ‘Had to have some myself first, mind. Anyway –’ she brushes it away with a careless hand – ‘now you’re better. And I want to know –’ she leans in, her eyes glowing – ‘where’s that rift we’re going to be closing? You said something about a door?’
How does this keep happening when she’s around? How does she always manage to get right to the heart of it, almost before I get there myself? And here I am, in bed of all places, and she’s sitting there happily, as if everything’s just brilliant and as it should be, talking of things she definitely shouldn’t even know about.
‘Shall we ask your grandfather?’ she chirps. ‘Where is he? I haven’t met him yet . . .’
Of course, she doesn’t realize that he’s not exactly human any more. I smile.
‘You want to see him?’
She nods, and slides off the bed, making for the door. ‘Can we do it, Bavar?’ She turns, her eyes bright. ‘Close the rift; make them go away forever?’
That look. That hope. My head’s still heavy, and I’m probably not quite myself yet, because I find myself nodding.
‘We can try.’
Oh my goodness, his grandfather is a statue. He doesn’t even have a body. He’s a head, and a bit of chest, on a great big gleaming metal column thing.
‘Are you trying to be funny?’ I demand, as Bavar turns, holding a really horrible tablecloth in his hand, a grin on his face.
‘Angel, Grandfather. Grandfather, Angel.’ He gestures, with a bit of a bow.
‘After all that, I thought we were getting somewhere, Bavar! I thought we were going to . . .’
‘Angel,’ the bronze head chimes. ‘So, this is the girl.’ He stares at me. ‘You have caused quite the commotion here.’
I stagger back into the wooden table and perch on it, staring at the bust and then at Bavar. He’s just about bouncing with delight, which is such a novelty it almost makes me smile.
Almost.
Come on, Angel, I tell myself. What did you expect in a house where the portraits howl, and poisoned boys are revived by green sludge?
‘Pleased to meet you,’ I say. My voice is a bit high, but he doesn’t know what it normally sounds like.
Bavar does. He grins again, and I glare at him.
‘So the two of you have been having adventures,’ says Bavar’s grandfather. ‘I’m glad to see you are somewhat restored, Bavar. You know, your aunt was MOST ANIMATED about it.’
‘She says he should fight,’ I say.
‘So he should – quite right.’ The bronze nods.
‘But he wants to close the rift.’
Bavar gapes at me, which is pretty enjoyable.
‘Oh, does he?’
I fold my arms, and we both look at Bavar.
‘Yes,’ he says eventually, his shoulders hunched. ‘You said there was a way.’
‘And Angel here is going to be HELPING you?’
Bavar spreads his hands. ‘Yes?’
‘I see,’ the bronze says. ‘Well, I suppose a person should have an accomplice. A brother in arms, if you will.’
‘A sister in arms,’ I correct him.
‘A catalyst, Aoife calls you,’ he murmurs, his bronze eyes gleaming as he looks at me. ‘How did you fall into all this, my dear?’
‘I don’t know,’ I say, which is sort of half true. I don’t know. But I do know that if there’s a way of stopping anyone else from being attacked by those monsters I want to find it. And if Dad was connected to it all, then so am I. And it’s not like anybody else is getting things done. Most of the world doesn’t even see what’s going on here.
‘The way will be long and hard,’ Grandfather intones. ‘And only the true shall ever find the real path . . .’
I catch Bavar rolling his eyes.
‘I saw that, young man,’ he huffs. ‘You must find the DOOR. It’s been hidden. Find the door, and you will find the rift. And then the real work will begin.’
‘The real work?’
‘CLOSING the RIFT!’
Bavar flinches. ‘How do we do that?’
‘You do that by first finding the door,’ he says in a smooth voice. ‘That is the first step; without it you cannot take any further.’
‘Where is it?’ he asks.
His grandfather shrugs, a shiver of bronze movement. ‘No idea. In the house somewhere. Never seen it.’
Bavar sighs. ‘Did you never look?’
‘I always meant to,’ he says, his voice softer. ‘I thought there would be more time.’
‘Well, it can’t be that hard to find!’ I venture. ‘I mean, you say it’s in the house, so it’s right here somewhere.’
They share a look of amusement.
‘Have you seen the size of this house?’ Bavar demands. ‘And besides, it plays tricks. We could be searching forever.’
‘Oh,’ I say. ‘I guess we’d better start then. Maybe you should put some clothes on first?’
The bronze bust lets out a squawk of laughter, and Bavar looks down at himself. He is wearing various layers of robe, to be fair, but it’s not exactly what I call dressed for an adventure. He huffs and throws the tablecloth back over his grandfather, who mutters darkly before going quiet.
‘When shall we start?’ I ask in a hushed voice as we head out of the library.
‘You’re serious?’ He turns to me. ‘You’re really doing this?’
‘We’re doing it, aren’t we?’
‘But why?’ he demands suddenly, stopping short and turning on me. His voice is an animal growl, and the narrow landing over the stairs darkens in an instant, cobwebs swinging over our heads. The back of my neck prickles and I can’t help stepping back into the wall, away from him. ‘Why are you doing it?’
‘Because you weren’t about to,’ I say, trying to find my voice, my heart, as he stares down at me.
‘Why does it matter to you so much?’
‘Why wouldn’t it?’ I ask. ‘How could I see you – see all this – and just walk away?’
‘I don’t know,’ he breathes. Shadows cling to his face as he folds himself back into the corner, and for a second I can feel it, thick as the magic around him, all the loneliness, the hurt he carries.
‘I’m not going to,’ I say, stepping forward, making my voice strong. ‘So you have that. Even if you don’t believe in anything else. I’m not going anywhere, while all this is going on. We can do this, Bavar. I know we can.’
He shakes his head as we head down the stairs, and I steady him when he stumbles.
‘Tomorrow,’ I say. ‘We’ll do it tomorrow, when you’re better. And wearing proper modern-day clothes . . .’
‘You said something last night,’ he says, peering at me. He’s flushed, and I realize he doesn’t remember what I told him, after he fought the raksasa, about my parents. I can’t bring myself to add to his misery right now.
‘A lot happened last night.’