Page 52 of Eight of Swords, Part Two

‘Make mansions of now,’ she suggests, looking at the Estate once more before she walks away. ‘I’ll see you soon.’

The skies above are grey and cold.

His bones feel damp.

His mind is thick with soft, cloudy mould that spreads to exhaust and confuse him. He’s not doing well, but he keeps going.

It’s all he knows how to do.

✴

On the last night before Penhalyx leaves, Lachlan wakes from a visceral nightmare with Mimi in his arms to find Blaire sitting in a chair, reading by lamplight. Lachlan’s heart is pounding so hard it hurts.

He carefully removes Mimi from his arms, sitting up.

‘I didn’t…’ he rasps, his throat closing up, ‘know you were here.’

Blaire sets her book down and gives no explanation for why she’s there.

‘Nightmare?’

He nods, his hand atop his heart. ‘Sharks.’

‘Tell me?’

‘It was horrible.’

‘We can share it.’

‘Don’t.’

‘Don’t what?’

‘Be nice.’

‘Lachlan—’

‘I know you blame me for this.’ His breath gives out. Shame eats away at him from the inside. ‘This is all my fault.’

‘Stop that.’

‘I warped her. I’ve messed her up.’ He looks down at Mimi, sleeping peacefully, her dark curls spread out on the pillow. ‘She’s only little.’

‘Tell me the dream.’

He tries to take a level breath, clumsily seeking the pressure point on his wrist, but it doesn’t help.

Count the rings in a cut-down tree.

One.

Two.

Three.

‘We were on a boat,’ he says, finding it easier with his eyes closed. ‘The kind with a glass bottom. Mimi and Jules were sitting on the glass, and there were shadows underneath. I shot the glass. They fell in. They…’

His throat closes up completely.