Page 53 of Burying Venus

‘You held Dermot when he was but a babe, silly old man,’ Breesha said.

Sidestepping Breesha and going instead to Dermot, Aleyn said, ‘There’s something off about you, boy. A presence that lingers all about you, and it does not come from your fair Stanley. It is distinctly otherworldly, shall we say. And, yes, seeing your expression, I think you understand me.’

Dermot gawked. It was as if the old man had him in a chokehold. His most hated secret had been spoken into open air. Now it lingered all about them as Dermot said nothing, stupefied.

‘What’s all this? Tea leaves and whatnot, otherworldly. I’ll say you’re getting in the way of some of our other old folk, Aleyn, and no more. Off with you!’ Breesha said.

‘Wait!’ Dermot cried, despising how his mother reeled back at him as if to hit. ‘Mother, please, show Aubrey to my room. We’ve travelled a while, no doubt he is tired. I will sleep on the floor when I come in. But, for now, let Aleyn and I speak alone, if onlyto calm an old man’s fear.’ This, he knew, was uncharacteristic of him. He had never thought much about another man’s health.

‘Trying to atone for the ills you’ve done to the Kinnish, are you? Have at it! I’ll show your sweetheart to his room, but I’ll make up no bed on the floor. Know you well enough, I do,’ Breesha spat. She clasped Aubrey’s shoulder, but her hands were so large that her thick fingers spilled onto his slender arm like spider legs.

‘Thank you, Mrs Skelly,’ Aubrey murmured.

‘Dermot’s found himself a real beauty. If only you were a girl. Well, never you mind, I don’t think he’s suited to raising bairns. Why, I’ll tell you…’ Breesha started, holding the door for Aubrey and following him inside. Dermot’s cheeks burnt with the prospect of every horror of his adolescence being relayed but, if he wanted to keep company with old Aleyn, he had no choice.

‘What do you mean, what other presence?’ Dermot demanded as soon as they’d left. The walls were thin but he could not abide speaking in the cold.

‘Let me sit down, lad,’ Aleyn said, shuddering as he edged onto one of their stools, as battered and decrepit as he. ‘I’m not the man you remember. I’ve not been up the mountain in years, in fact, so afeared of my condition. Old age, that is, which comes to us all. Well, most of us, Dermot.’

At the sly insinuation, Dermot took a seat opposite Aleyn. ‘Tell me what you mean,’ he said. It was a demand, not a request, as evidenced by the heating of his blood. His soul was so fraught that he might’ve forced Aleyn were he not heeded.

‘There is an unnaturalness about you or, should I say, a naturalness. It is this land, and all that I have studied and seen over the years, converging into one. There is a string at your back, as if you are not entirely yourself. And I know only one creature that might cause such a thing, or have any reason to doso.’ Aleyn paused, chest quivering as his breath shuddered. ‘You have met one of the fair folk.’

Dermot lurched back, checking his mother had not just come into the room.

‘I see I’ve struck true,’ Aleyn said. ‘And how did it happen, what did this young man ask of you?’

Teetering back into his seat, Dermot seethed. Of course Aleyn knew his tormentor was not a woman. ‘I was out one night and he came to me. He asked, that is, his request… but he spoke very well.’

Aleyn observed him kindly despite the revulsion that played on his lip. ‘I see. You have nothing to fear here. Go on, tell me, what did he ask?

Even as schoolmasters did all they could to destroy the intangible joy that was childhood, Aleyn had been protector over their innocence. He stood apart in Dermot’s mind for that reason. ‘He asked me to poison the Stanleys, so I did.’

‘But they all live!’ Aleyn cried. ‘I can see you did not have the strength to refuse. Why are they still about then, giving us so much trouble?’

‘I… that is…’ Dermot stuttered, eyes flitting about to make sure Breesha did not intrude. He sat with his head hung back, staring at the wall, realising that he would never again see a portrait of a dead Stanley man looming over him.

They considered one another in silence until Breesha came out, peered at them, and finally left for her room.

‘They are mysterious, tempestuous creatures. Might I have a description of this young man?’ Aleyn said.

‘Young, blond, pale and waifish,’ Dermot said haltingly. His stomach twisted as he confessed.

Aleyn said nothing before he finally tutted. ‘One such as he... if you speak true, if I am not a foolish, doddering old man, then wehave cause for concern. I cannot think of any faerie who delights in more than idleness and trickery excepting one or two.’

‘His name is Maldred,’ Dermot said.

Spluttering, Aleyn said, ‘He told you his name?’

‘Yes,’ Dermot said, thinking nothing of it. ‘I remember, just as he was leaving that first day after we… well.’

‘Then you have more power than you know. Yes, Maldred, and he has cause,’ Aleyn said.

‘Cause?’ Dermot echoed, perturbed. ‘He sent an old woman and a boy to their graves. And I fear my mother will never forgive me for it, though she knows none of this!’

‘Silence, lad!’ Aleyn said. ‘Do you know nothing of our history? My stories fallen on deaf ears, I suspect. And that goes for many other children as well. Tell me, how can we persevere as a people when our own folk forget the tales as they cavort with mainlanders? We need none of that here, boy, especially not those black-haired ghouls you call Stanley. You’d find yourself more at home with your own.’

‘Maldred, who burns his own people with those same foreign hands?’ Dermot spat, grasping the edge of the table and hauling himself up. ‘They were always a bad family, but at least they were sane. Now they burn our folk, as you say, in the town square. Did you know one of the witchfinders intends to conduct some sort of experiment on the bodies? And the other is a fanatic. If you know some way to stop this madness, if any of your own tales be true, then speak now. Else they’ll come for you next.’ This, though said amidst a tantrum, was not untrue. He suspected Robert intended to purge the village, and the easiest target would, of course, be a man versed in their ancient history.