‘Don’t you?’ asks Bavar. ‘It’s simple, like you say. Sacrifice. Has to be done with humanity’s blood.’
‘Ah, is that . . . Hold it up higher, Angel – I can’t see in all this gloom! Honestly, boy –’ he turns to Bavar – ‘you’re becoming a cliché with all this storming around. Put a light on, or something, and stop CLOUDING up the place.’
Bavar mutters something under his breath, leaning forward and turning on the desk lamp.
‘Yes, I see. There’s a line about complicity, partnership between the cursed and the wronged . . .’
‘Between me and Angel,’ Bavar says impatiently.
‘And the truth of that, with the tears – must be something to do with salt – and then the blood . . .’
‘Blood of the fallen,’ says Bavar. ‘Which is all to do with angels, and humanity . . . and it says sacrifice, so it doesn’t mean a paper cut, does it? And so it’s not happening.’
‘But if it would close the rift forever . . .’ I venture. ‘And it might not mean all of the blood.’
‘So how much?’ demands Bavar. ‘Because it doesn’t have a quantity written there. It’s a lot, and who knows how you’d stop it once you started . . .’
‘Actually, I’m not sure where you’ve translated the fallen to Angel,’ his grandfather muses. ‘I suppose you’re thinking the fallen is humanity . . . but even so, you could just use another human – doesn’t have to be Angel here, does it?’
‘Humanity is the fallen,’ says Bavar. ‘And we have one right here, who just happens to have gotten into all this with me, and who just happens to be called Angel. But it doesn’t matter, because I’m not doing it. Not to anybody! Take the book, Angel. Take it and go. We’ll be fine without it.’
‘You’re just giving up?’ I lower the book.
‘No. I’m going to fight.’ He runs shaking hands through his hair. ‘I’m going to fight, just like we always have.’
‘But we have the book! We have the spell – we just need to read it!’
‘I can read it just fine! Who are you willing to sacrifice, Angel? Yourself? Me? Some random human?’
‘What other choice is there? After all this, we have to do it, Bavar!’
‘No, we don’t. There’s another way – I’ll just carry on fighting.’
‘And one day you’ll make a mistake, and people will die, and that won’t solve anything, it won’t change anything, except for the people left behind!’
‘I won’t let that happen,’ he says. ‘I swear to you, Angel. It’ll never happen again.’
‘So I’m supposed to just walk away, put all my faith in you? I’m not doing that, Bavar! This isn’t all about you and your family. It’s about me, too!’
‘It should never have been about you!’ he shouts, spreading his arms, the air around him moving like heatwaves. ‘That’s the whole point! Your family should never have been involved at all.’
‘So you’re saying it’s all my dad’s fault this has happened? That he lured out the monster, made it attack?’
‘He shouldn’t have been here!’
‘But he was! And your parents ignored him, just like they’re ignoring you now! Why are you going to just carry on like they did, when it all went so wrong?’
The lights dim, and there’s a sudden hush among his ancestors. Even his grandfather is looking down at the ground.
‘You should go,’ Bavar says eventually. ‘Just take the book and go. And forget it all. Forget you ever met me. It was a mistake for me to be at the school.’
‘It wasn’t! It was about the only thing you all got right!’
But he isn’t hearing me. His eyes are dark, his face expressionless. He opens the door and I’m so confused, so angry, that I can’t even put more words together. I can’t keep fighting when he’s already lost it.
The corridors are dark and silent, the hallway an echoing cavern, and I am burning with humiliation as they all watch me go, because I was so na?ve. I really thought they wanted to change things. I thought they’d fight for this. In the end though, it’s Bavar’s house. He is the master here, and now I know they’ll stand by him.
Even if he’s making the biggest mistake in the world.
I’ve never known the house so quiet. I don’t know whether they’re all shocked that I spoke to Angel that way, or by what she said, but the silence has a sound of its own after a while, so when the monster strikes again, it’s almost a relief.
‘Go on then, boy,’ Grandfather says, his voice solemn. ‘Go and do what you said you would.’
‘Did you think I should do differently?’ I burst, grabbing my cloak from my father’s old chair. ‘You told me that I should fight, so now I am. You should be happy. Didn’t you know this was the only option, really? Aoife knows it, and so does Sal . . .’
‘Ah those two, they’re not masters! They’re here for you, Bavar, but they do not know best and they have never claimed to. These DECISIONS are yours to make.’
‘Well, and so I made them.’
Grandfather mutters something under his breath, but I ignore it, climbing out on to the balcony and looking up into the sky. Burning bright, a turmoil of clouds and smoke and ash, and deep within, far away, the fires of that place that my family wrenched open all those years ago.
They’ll never stop coming. Angel’s father said in his book that it would get worse the longer the rift is open, and that’s exactly what’s happening. For a second I feel like I’m falling. And in that second I almost understand my parents – how overwhelming this is, how desperate it feels, and how welcome any diversion would be. Parties, new friends, old books promising answers. But none of that is real. This is all that’s real. The raksasa, and the fight. The creature comes towards me, and I jump, and we land on the ground together, facing each other.
This is what I was born to do. It’s the only thing that’s left after everything else is gone. It’s what I do best. The raksasa howls, its hunger for humanity fills the air, and here I am, the only thing that stands between.
It’s parents’ evening and I hid the letter, but Mary is pretty well connected in this town, so she knew about it anyway, and now we have to go together. It’s been nearly a week since I fought with Bavar, and I’ve been keeping myself pretty quiet, so it’s kind of a surprise to find myself out on the street, the cold biting at my nose.
I try not to look up at the big house on top of the hill, as we round the corner towards the school, but it’s impossible. It looms up, dark and solitary under a jet-black sky. No raksasa tonight. Not yet, anyway.
‘How do you think you’re getting on?’ Mary asks.
I shiver; the frost never lifted today and it crunches under our feet.
‘I don’t know. OK.’
‘I guess OK is doing pretty well for now,’ she says, pulling her coat tighter. ‘Do you like it? Do you have any friends, other than Bavar?’
‘Not really. A couple of people maybe.’