“How will this be different? You’ll have a house full of gorgeous people who are there to dance, which I don’t do, take drugs, which I don’t do, and engage in some very picturesque acts of debauchery, which I can’t do. I get you and I have a peacock-slash-peahen kind of relationship—” She started to interrupt, but I charged on, “And I’m perfectly happy with that when it’s just us, but even I get a little sick of the being the drab little brown bird in the corner sometimes.”
“You’re only a drab anything if you want to be. Kira, if you saw what I saw—”
This was a familiar argument, but I realised belatedly we were having it in front of complete strangers, one slightly less complete stranger in particular. Mark stared at me, cup halfway to his lips. Fuck, I was airing my insecurities in front of a hot guy, and what was with all the staring today? Seriously, did I have espresso on my lip or something?
“I need to get home. I’m still feeling quite fragile,” I said, getting to my feet.
“We can—” Jen said.
“It’s OK, and thanks.” I walked around and gave her a big hug, smelling the scent of wildflowers in her hair. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
“Of course, it’s why I’m here. Please think about it anyway, for me? If that’s really how you feel, let my stylist, Marlow, do a makeover. No one will put this Baby in the corner.”
I groaned. We had spent a considerable part of our teen years watching Dirty Dancing on rote. To this day, shivers went up my spine when I heard the opening bars of “The Time of My Life.”
“I’ll think about it. When?”
“This weekend. Seriously, Ki, it’s gonna be a blast! Dad’s bringing down a bunch of his top earners as part of this massive event. Instant Backlash, Jimmy Everly, JJ and the Sing Stars, and The Changelings…what?”
Ever the observant one, Jen had seen me go still at the mention of The Changelings. My heart felt like it had dropped through the floor. My limbs tingled, and my head started to ache again. She knew I liked the band, since I’d played enough of their music in the car when we went on road trips for her to be able to reluctantly sing along to their most popular songs. What she didn’t know was my relationship with that band was a little more than just a fan.
Don’t think about him yet, I told myself, struggling to keep that social mask situated.
I smiled and said, “I’ll see how I’m feeling, OK?”
“That’s all I ask. Now, we’re dropping you home.”
“But—”
“Miss, it’ll be no trouble,” Mark said.
“Y’see, it’s not often Marky here and I agree. Jump in the car.”
2
My parents owned acreage on the outskirts of Gisbourne. Made for hobby farmers and the like, that was probably what Mum and Dad had bought the land for. Now, there was the main house where I’d grown up, Nan’s cottage, and mine. I’d asked Jen to drop me at the gate, but of course, that wouldn’t do, which is how I ended up in front of Nan’s place. I usually came to see her after one of my ‘turns,’ and seeing as I could still feel a flicker at the edges of my perception, I knocked on her door.
“You’ve seen it?” Nan said, as soon as she opened it. No greeting, no smile, just her eyes flicking over me, looking for signs, but I didn’t know of what.
“Seen what, Nan?”
“The creeping people, the shifters in the grass. Those of stone and leaf and wood.”
The problem was, Nan was kinda crazy.
“Not sure, Nan, but you’re welcome to take a look at my photos. I need some of your tea.”
I tried to pass her my camera. While she wasn’t always lucid, she wasn’t prone to dropping things and knew how to scroll through the viewfinder on the back if she had a mind to.
“Don’t give me that nasty, clicky thing. Trying to capture the light of the world in a box. Hubris, I call it.”
“Yeah, well, I call it a Canon,” I said, taking off my bag and putting it on the wooden table inside the living room. The thing was half-covered in feathers and twigs, scraps of wool and fabric, and tiny animal skulls.
“You need a talisman, that’s what you need. Leaving one such as you unprotected. Don’t know what your mother was thinking.”
I knew exactly what Mum thought, the same as Dad—that I was likely to turn out just like her, with a diagnosis of schizophrenia. That I’d need to be on medication my whole life. That I was never going to achieve independence, leave the family farm, or find my own place. That I wouldn’t, shouldn’t, pass this curse on by having a child.
Nan fussed around and then drew out a funny little bundle. It looked like a stick, some feathers, and a bunch of herbs wrapped clumsily in a strand of red wool. The sort of thing a fey child might make, imagining that the shadows in the grass and the flickers of dappled light coming between the trees hid a myriad of mystical creatures. I knew, because I’d been driven to make them as a kid. Made my mother mad, then sad when she realised what was happening. Nan tried to loop the leather thong holding it all over my neck, but I shook my head.
“Tea, Nan.”
“Tea blunts the senses, makes you blind. Not for my—”
“That’s exactly what I want. Where do I find the tin?”
“No tin, no tea! You need warding is all. Sharp as a tack, that’s what you need to be. See them as they creep up on you, ready to take…!”
I retrieved an old purple tin from deep within Nan’s tightly packed kitchen cupboards. I was immediately hit by a wave of bergamot, orange blossom, and rosemary. The residual pain in my head diminished just at the smell of it, though I felt a momentary twist of nausea. Nan blathered on about what I needed and how I shouldn’t drink the tea, waving various bundles and items in my face as I put the kettle on. She always lectured me endlessly about drinking the stuff and refused to tell me the recipe so I could make my own, but the tin was full when I got there. I scooped some of the mix into the old metal tea strainer and swirled it into the hot water once I’d poured it into the cup. I added a splash of cold water from the tap, feeling the shake in my hands, seeing the flicker on the edge of my vision, as if something was fighting to get my attention. It was too hot when I put the cup to my lips, but I sipped it anyway.
Wet herbs and grass, that’s what it tasted like. Probably because that’s what it was, but I slowly drank it down as I stared out through the big picture window over Nan’s sink. Trees wavered and jumped in the distance, as if the lawn was a hot road and I was looking through the distorted air. This was a bad attack. Usually, a couple of coffees were enough to stop it.
Why now? I wondered. What mental glitch persisted, despite all my best efforts? I practised good sleep hygiene, made sure to have regular meals of low GI food to stop blood sugar spikes. Everything the neurologist advised, I did.
“Something’s coming,” Nan said, her voice all raspy, her eyes wide. She made quite the dramatic figure as the light streaming in the window bleached her face to white, her brown eyes boring into mine. “Something big. That’s the warnings you’ve been given, and you dismiss them like they’re nothing! Something’s coming for you, Kira!”