Deep Roots (Iris' Atlantis 2)

I followed a raven to a dark castle of blackened stone. A full moon shone over the scene as I glided up the steps inside. I wandered in long corridors. Moonlit galleries. Overgrown yards and gardens.

And shadows. I passed shadow after shadow. They came in ones and twos, rarely in bigger groups. Always talking in a language I had never heard.

I rounded a corner and stumbled into Valentina. She smiled at me and spoke up. But she too spoke the odd tongue that whistled through the desolate passages.

Then she was gone and in her place stood Plume. He was wearing a cloak of black feathers and his eyes shone red. He grabbed my hand and pointed at something through a window. In the garden stood a young woman, her raven hair falling behind her. She didn't see us but continued to prune the garden roses.

"Come with me."

I turned. It was the girls from the grave yard, Catalina. We stood in the churchyard.

I followed her in the misty, moonlit garden of graves. Until we arrived at a stone with the name Timothy White Torch on it.

"Look," she said.

I stared at the stone. The date was set four years in the history.

Something in the corner of my eye moved.

He spoke to my ear. There was again that language I didn't know, a single syllable.

I stared at the grave. I did not want to look behind my back. There was something there that I really shouldn't see.

Despite that I turned.

The homeless man lay against another stone. A can had fallen from his hand and his empty gaze was fixed to eternity.

I approached and crouched on the ground by the body. I pushed aside long grey hair and beard to reveal two puncture marks that had blackened at the edges, torn by something sharp.

When I looked again at the man, he had changed, morphing into Aunt Chime's late husband. There was something accusatory on the face.

"Oh, child. But aren't you having a dream?"

I started.

A young, tall man I had never seen had come to look at the corpse with me. He had a twinkle to his eyes and an inappropriately light tone, considering the grim moonlit graveyard and the cold corpse. He crouched on the ground by me so that we could easily look each other in the eyes. His gaze was red and kind and full of light. He was pale, like the moon and carried a wooden cane.

He glanced at the corpse, frowned and remarked: "It wasn't quite like that, I promise."

"What wasn't?" I asked.

"Don't you know? Timothy, of course."

I woke up when the door banged shut. One of my legs had gone to sleep and I tried to straighten it and get circulation back when Rosemary came to the room.

"Oh! I really thought you were sleeping."

She pressed the switch. I shut my eyes. Against closed lids I perceived she flipped the switch again. I squinted in the darkness.

"So sorry, dear. How are you still here? It's past one."

"Can I borrow your car?"

She blinked. I more sensed than saw it in the moonlit living room.