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Have you ever…
Is it true…
I screw my eyes shut, fighting away the bodies of myself, the soapy scent of Finlay grounding me into place.
“Everyone’s talkin’ about you, sassenach,” he murmurs into my hair. Shivers fall down my skin. “And — I cannae stop thinkin’ about ye. About whit happened. He should never have telt ye tae go through wi’ the ritual.”
“The ritual doesn’t mean anything, though, right?” I know it’s not quite true, but I test it out, acting as blessedly innocent as I can get away with. “It’s just Hallowe’en nonsense.”
Finlay gives me a careful look. “Naw. It isnae.”
So he’s gone with the truth. He believes I’m worth his honesty.
That’s something.
“As a proponent o’ rationality and enlightenment, I’m gonnae tell you… aye, it’s a superstition passed doon fae generation tae generation, which makes otherwise sensible people turn intae complete turnips. But that disnae mean it has nae power. On the contrary. Because as lang as ye believe in somethin’ hard enough, purely because ye’ve been telt tae — a lie, a legend — then the lie is made real. It builds a house o’ cards. Maybe that’s the true lesson at play here.”
He pauses.
“When I came tae see ye, I wanted to find out if ye saw anythin’ about this.” He spins around, pointing to the silver studs across his blazer.Alba gu bràth. “But this…” He gives me a concerned look, his hands squeezing the tops of my arms tightly. “This is so much worse.”
“Alba gu bràth,” I whisper, my lips catching on the melodic flow of those instantly recognizable words. “What does it mean?”
Finlay smiles down at me. “Al-uh-bah goo brah,” he amends gently. “It means ‘Scotland forever’. I wanted tae know about the future o’ my country, sassenach.”
* * *
The ritual doesn’t leave me alone, even though the existence of my new hairstyle usurps the mockery I receive. The forest whispers had made me untouchable, a legend among the halls — but my hair promptly makes me ripe for ridicule. I don’t care. My mind is so focused on the memory of Finlay holding me that I distractedly tell Li I saw the wreck of a massive shipping container in the forest. It’s not my most subtle effort, but she manages to look horrified nonetheless as I swear her to secrecy. I figure it’s payback for the way she plied me with whisky all Hallowe’en night.
“The gremlins have been saying this, but… there wasn’t anything, like, related tome… was there?” Danny seems nervous. “I assume not, because why would the universe care about me, also you’d have probably told me—”
I smile softly at him. “No. There was nothing about you.”
Danny looks relieved after that. He doesn’t ask about what I did see, for which I’m grateful.
I can’t take any more lies.
Only Becca, Luke and Rory don’t ask me about what happened. With the latter, I get the sense that he’s biding his time, or that he’s trying to let his minions torture it out of me first.
But it still seems weird that the actual subjects of the ritual have no interest in it.
I decide to resume my habit of going down to the loch to dance.
Walking — I really can’t emphasize it enough. Walking isamazing.
Dancing? Even better.
But I’m surprised by how much resistance there is in my body as I make my way toward the forest. There’s a funny feeling in my belly as I stumble through those same shadowy trees. With the clocks turned back, the mornings are easily as dark as the nights.
I stand, gazing up at the edge of the forest in the freezing cold, with the sudden realization that I can’t do this.
It’s too painful.
It’s as though those memories of me dangling between the black branches have hijacked my brain.
I shake my head and turn back to the castle.
Maybe another day.
