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As she takes an uncertain step towards us, it’s all I can do not to look at her.Queen’s Gambit, I think.
Because Gretel, without question, is my queen.
Papa knocks away my arm. I slap repeatedly at his face. Finally, I can’t help myself; I glance over his shoulder at the girl I came here to save. Our eyes meet. I see a spark of recognition, a glimmer of emerald fire.
Somehow, Papa senses the danger. He twists around and I cry out, terrified that my gambit will be in vain. But he isn’t as quick as he used to be, and Gretel, despite everything she’s endured – maybe even because of it – doesn’t hesitate. The carving knife is in her left hand, and the force she puts into her thrust is shocking to behold. I don’t see the blade go in, but I know from Papa’s reaction that it has. His eyes widen. His own weapon clatters to the floor. Gretel steps back, and when I see her empty hand, I know the knife’s stillinside him. Better to have pulled it out and plunged it in again, but I can’t fault her.
As Papa reaches behind his back I buck my hips and unseat him. He crashes on to his side.
In the cellar beneath the Memory Wood, I might have killed my brother with my actions, but I didn’t commit the act. During my only escape attempt, I tried to attack Papa with the glass shard. Unlike Gretel, I hesitated. I’d expected to pay for my failure with my life. Instead, Elijah lost his.
Now, beside me, Papa lifts himself to his elbows. Gretel, standing opposite, has turned to stone.
‘Go,’ I tell her, through clenched teeth. I don’t want her to see this. I don’t want her to suffer as I have.
Grunting with effort, Papa sits up straight. I see the knife buried in his back. My goodness, how deep she thrust it. Already, his jacket is soaked in blood.
‘Stay there, you little bitch,’ he hisses. ‘Say you understand.’
I can’t wait any longer. Pulling myself up, I loop a length of chain over Papa’s head. With both hands, I reel him in.
The links bite into his throat, choking off his breath. He tries to get his fingers under them. To counter him, I pull harder. The distance between us shrinks.
‘Go,’ I implore Gretel. ‘Now.’
At last, my words get through. So much we communicate in our final look. Then she turns and limps from the shed.
Papa’s legs kick out, begin to shake. His heels drum against the floor.
When I loosen my grip on the chain, his chest heaves and his lungs fill. I yank out the knife. Then I plunge it into his side. His back arches. He squeals like a butchered pig.
‘Elijah,’ I whisper, mouth close to his ear.
Our blood runs together on the tool-shed floor. My vision is blackening. But I still have work to do.
Out comes the knife. With a wet ripping, it dives deep. ‘Bryony,’ I say.
Before this is over, I’ll make him remember every one of them.
Elissa
As she staggers from the tool shed, the wind buffets her, rocking her on her feet.
Bending, Elissa vomits into the grass. She could live a thousand years and still remember how it felt to slam that knife into the ghoul’s flesh. But if she finds her way back to her mum, it’ll have been worth it.
Her only regret is that she didn’t act sooner. By the time she’d gathered her courage, the ghoul had already brutalized Elijah. Only through witnessing that extraordinary savagery could she intervene with violence of her own.
Elissa thinks about going back, but she knows Elijah intends to kill the man who abducted him. She knows, too, that he’ll succeed – nothing in this world could have put a brake on the determination she glimpsed in his face.
Clutching her swollen arm to her chest, she orients herself. To her left stands the shack, smoke feathering from its chimney. Near by, the white van is parked with its nose pointing downhill. On the back bumper she sees the trilby-wearing skull smoking its cigarette and feels the burn of its gaze.
CHILLAX.
Instead of obeying, Elissa runs. Except it isn’t a run, notreally. Heading down the slope, she stumble-trips through the long grass, terrified of falling. Even at walking speed, her momentum threatens to overtake her.
At her back, the shack’s front door bangs open. From inside, Elissa hears a witch’s furious scream.
Mairéad