Katalepsis

Evelyn and I had almost escaped the dayroom when Twil’s mounting panic touched flailing flame to hidden fuse.

Twil’s mysterious tome — her leatherbound ‘holy book’, the cover illustrated with an unsubtle metaphor about caged werewolves — was now tucked into the crook of Evelyn’s arm, so Evee could keep both hands on the Fadestone as we made our getaway. My fingers tingled from where I’d touched the leather cover of the book, as if I’d plunged my hand into a pot of spiced honey; I had snatched it off the sofa and whisked it away from Twil’s slender hips, leaving her none the wiser. I would dearly love to claim that I had accomplished the manoeuvre in one swift motion, with steady hands and stilled breath, but that would be a pitiful lie, because I’ve never had stable nerves at the best of times, let alone when trying to steal a reasonably heavy object while rendered invisible by unreliable magic, in the middle of a crowded room, on a time limit.

But I’d done it, somehow, feeling like my body was hooked up to an electric wall socket. Twil hadn’t noticed the book’s absence as we’d turned and scurried away, still too preoccupied by the fact her glasses had vanished from off her own face — and still flushed beetroot red by Evelyn’s rather choice words about Twil’s carnal knowledge. Even if Twil couldn’t recall who had said the words, the emotional impact lingered beyond the Fadestone’s cover.

The tingling in my fingers wasn’t supernatural, it was just jitters, the nerve-impact of a successful raid. My heels were spring-loaded, my shoulder blades were painted with a glowing target, and my heart was trying to squirm up my windpipe.

But a mad smile jerked onto my lips, coupled with a hitching little laugh and a double hic-hic of unwelcome hiccups. We’d done it! We’d stolen the book, and Twil’s glasses as a bonus!

Was this what it felt like to pull off a madcap heist? I suddenly felt like a very, very bad girl indeed. And I rather liked that feeling.

We hurried away through the tangle of dayroom sofas and armchairs and televisions, skirting groups of stirring patients, attempting to avoid the occasional nurse roused by the commotion we’d caused.

Twil’s panic was drawing too much attention.

“My glasses! My glasses, they were right on my face! Right here! I can’t find them, they’re not— they’re not in my pockets! Oh, you two, this isn’t funny, this isn’t funny!”

Twil’s two Lillies attempted to soothe her, but they were just as confused as our dreaming werewolf. Their voices chased my heels as I wheeled Evee toward the archway and the exit.

“Did you drop them? Are they under the sofa?”

“Twillamina, breathe, take a deep breath, that’s it, come on sweetheart. Take a deep breath. You just left them somewhere, that’s all. It’s nothing, it’s nothing, nothing happened! Hey, heeeeey, relax, relax—”

“Maybe they got mixed up with the game pieces? Here, let’s take a look, come on.”

“Let me check your pockets for you, baby, you probably just got confused.”

Evelyn hissed through clenched teeth, half in derision, half with savage satisfaction. “Those two are no smarter than Twil herself. Come on, you pair of old tramps, think harder. Use your brains.”

“I really don’t think we should taunt them!” I whispered, skirting another occupied sofa as the patients started to sit up and turn around and crane their necks to get a look at the unfolding drama.

“Rubbish,” Evelyn murmured. “It’s not as if they can hear us.” She half-twisted in the wheelchair, trying to look past me, to look back at our as-yet unbaited catch. “Whatever. They’ll figure it out eventually, and if they don’t, we can bait them again. The first step is over and I’ve bought them time, with that stupid board game. Get us out of here, Heather, get us back out—”

“My book!”

Twil’s shriek cut through the taut tension of the dayroom like shears slicing apart a set of violin strings.

A full-body shiver propelled me forward as if the werewolf herself was at my heels. Evelyn flinched and blinked and turned back around, hands firmly on the Fadestone, whispering a sudden mantra to shore up our bubble of invisibility. “We are not here. We are not here. We are not here.”

“It’s gone!” Twil wailed. “It’s gone! It was right here, right here! You both know I never let it out of my sight, I would never drop it! I would never even turn away from it, not for a second! And— and it- no, no! It was right here!”

All across the dayroom girls rose from their seats or twisted on the sofas or sat up straighter, all eyes turning toward Twil and her Lillies. A ripple of motion and bobbing heads and bright-eyed attention passed over the crowd like the echo of a stone dropped into dark water.

Some patients called out rapid questions — “Hey, what’s wrong? Hey, what’s wrong with Twilla? Hey?”, “What did you lose, lassie?”, “Bet a fucking nurse stole it!” — while others darted covert glances across the length of the dayroom, making furtive eye contact with distant conspirators. A few girls slipped objects into their Cygnet-issue pajama bottoms, palming secret notes, tucking away hidden tools. Fewer still used the sudden distraction to carry out actions behind the backs of the nurses; some pulled silly faces or stuck out their tongues to shore up the morale of their nearby friends, but others snatched things off tables or rifled through briefly unguarded bags, pocketing access fobs and ID cards and bottles of pills. One brave and light-fingered patient openly pick-pocketed a nurse, sliding a bunch of keys from a uniform pocket and stuffing it up inside her own shirt.

Perhaps this was the opening they’d all been waiting for.

The nursing staff shot to their collective feet in a flash, but they lagged behind the patients and inmates by a vital few seconds; the eyes and hands of the panopticon could not, in fact, see everywhere all at once and touch every corner of every life. They had not seen this coming. They could not see the instigators — Evelyn and me. All they could do now was shout and bawl.

“Girls, girls, settle down! Settle back down!” 

“Pay no attention! Carry on with what you were doing! Eyes forward, that means all of you! Anna, Marta, I see you both trying your luck there, sit back down!”

“No rubbernecking, it’s very rude. Isn’t it? You wouldn’t like it if your misfortune was on display for everyone to see. Come on, there’s nothing to see there, nothing to see. Don’t pay any attention, girls, please.”

Evee and I were almost to the archway when I made the mistake of looking back.

Horror — my medical adversary, my dream-bound antagonist, the one nurse who kept coming back again and again — was crossing the dayroom, returning to Twil’s table. She held the game piece which I’d hurled across the room, cupped in one soft hand. Her eyes were narrowed at Twil and the Lillies, lips pursed with impatience, shoulders and chin set. She carried the pose of an adult who planned to separate naughty children from each other. Perhaps she smelled a rat.

Twil and her Lillies were not in a good state. Twil herself was heaving for breath, tears running down her cheeks, face twisted with terrible distress. She was gripping the side of Lily One’s grey uniform blazer, like a lost child clinging to an older sibling. Lily One — the waspish girl with the long blonde hair and the curvy build — was alternately trying to calm down Twil and ducking her head to search among the sofa cushions and under the table. Lily Two — the freckled tomboy with the red hair, built like a tightly toned athlete — was glaring at the nearest groups of girls and nurses, as if examining faces for guilty looks.

“My book— no!” Twil sobbed. “I can’t! It’s— it’s the only copy! Please, I just— no— it was right—”

Lily Two suddenly shouted: “Who took it?! Which one of you took it?!”

An answering shout rose from the back of the dayroom, from a random unseen throat. “Must have been a nurse!”

“Yeah!” another girl agreed, somebody deep in a huddle of bodies, hidden from the staff. “Damn right, it was probably a nurse! Confiscating all our stuff! Fucking bitches!”

“Give it back!” shouted a third voice.

“Return her book!” yet another took up the cause. “Come on, it’s not fair!”

“Give it back! Give it back!”

“Give her back her book, you cunts!”

“Give it back! Give it back! Give it back!”

The words became a chant, spreading across the dayroom.

All around us groups of girls were turning on their chaperones and guardians; little angry mobs rose to their feet and took up the chant, while other girls sat back on the sofas and raised their fists in the air, adding their voices to the chorus. Some surrounded their respective nurses, while others ignored their ineffectual staff escort. Sleepy nurses jerked awake in the sudden panic, while others chattered into hand-held walkie talkies, backing away from the growing anger. A cluster of fresh nurses appeared in the archway and hurried into the room, spreading out as back-up. A pair of Knights followed them — though with far less clarity of purpose; the Knights shuffled into the dayroom for a moment, stood there looking very awkward, then shuffled out again.

I halted.

I drew the wheelchair to a stop about ten feet shy of our exit, blocking the passage between an empty row of three sofas and a little table piled with girl’s magazines, the covers all smiling and teeth and shining white eyeballs. The nearest group of patients was to our rear, all facing toward the commotion as Twil began to weep and wail.

“Heather?” Evelyn hissed. “Heather, what are you doing? Don’t stop here, not now.”

“Evee, they’re going to start another riot!”

Evee twisted in her wheelchair so I could see her craggy frown. “Good. Buys us more time. Maybe they’ll injure a few more nurses or burn down a wing of this place while they’re at it. Come on, Heather, get us out before the—”

“We have to start the plan right now,” I hissed. “We have to get Twil and her friends to follow us, right now. We can’t wait and do it later!”

The ringing chorus of “Give it back! Give it back!” rose louder and louder. Somebody shouted; another girl squealed in pain. A nurse tumbled backward into a chair, going sprawling on the floor. Somebody else cheered.

Evelyn snapped at me. “The whole place might follow us! The nurses might follow us. Heather, we need to stick to the plan. I’ve bought Twil plenty of time with my changes to her board game—”

“There’s no time to go through the whole rigmarole!” I raised my voice above the chant. “Evee, look!”

I pointed back.

Violence bubbled beneath the surface of the widening disturbance: one or two girls pushed or shoved their respective nurses; a few nurses raised their hands in response, threatening more than they dared deliver. Several nurses were being forced back by miniature picket lines of chanting patients — “Give it back! Give it back!” — while the more vulnerable girls sheltered behind their companions.

Horror cut through the chaos like a shark through tropical waters. Lines of girls parted before her. Nurses turned away as she walked by.

Twil couldn’t see her coming, because her eyes were full of tears and her glasses were missing. But the Lillies could. Lily Two turned to face Horror, chin high, fists clenched. Lily One tried to pull Twil away from the sofa and the board game, retreating from their pursuer.

If this all exploded into violence, we would not be able to protect Twil. Horror would still get exactly what she wanted.

And so would the institution; the ratio of girls to nurses simply wasn’t high enough. The patients had been split up and divided, prepared for what Raine might call ‘defeat in detail’. If the staff had to face the entire body of the patients as one, organized and moving in unison, following one will, with one aim, then the institution would stand no chance. But the staff had determined the composition and layout of this space. Willing combatants were mixed in with younger girls, the stronger groups split up and unable to form a united front. As I watched I saw those who could not fight struggle to worm their way out of the growing scrum. Patients ready to throw down were not shoulder-to-shoulder, but halfway across the dayroom from each other. More nurses piled in through the archway, ready to put down this brief convulsion of a bound giant.

“Evee, we can’t let another riot happen, not yet.”

“What?!” Evee spluttered. “I thought you and Raine were all for another bit of popular violence. I thought that was what we wanted?”

“They’re not ready!” I hissed. “They’re not prepared! This is the worst condition under which to launch a second attempt. This isn’t what Lozzie would have planned, and it’s only going to sap the strength of another revolt. Evee, we have to stop this, we have to start our plan right now.”

Evelyn clenched her teeth and looked like she wanted to spit. “We’ll be sitting ducks if we get this wrong.”

“Not if I move fast. I’ll let go of you, call out to Twil, then grab you again and run for the doors. It might work!”

Evelyn swallowed hard. The sound was drowned out by the rising chant all around us, by the angry shouts of, “Let us back to our rooms!”, “Where’d you take Vanessa and Riley, huh?! I haven’t seen them since yesterday!”, “Fuck off, fucking screws! Get your hands off me!”

“Heather,” Evee hissed, “you always do this, you always jump in—”

“I will not do this if you don’t consent,” I hissed quickly. “And I promise I will not leave you behind.”

“You—”

“If you disagree, then please, Evee, insist. Insist, and we’ll let the riot happen, we’ll go.”

Evelyn ground her teeth together so hard that they squeaked. But then she nodded. “Do it. Now. Quickly!”

I reached down and retrieved the leatherbound book from Evee’s lap, fingers fumbling, heart pounding. The soft brown leather was warm to the touch, warmer than it had any right to be, warm as sun-kissed bark in a summer forest. I held up the book in my left hand, keeping my right wrapped firmly around one handle of Evelyn’s wheelchair. I turned toward Twil and the Lillies, held the book up high, and let go of my anchor.

Visible, for just a second.

“Twilllll!” I shouted, my reedy little voice fighting against the growing chaos of the dayroom. “Twil!”

A few of the nearest girls glanced my way, but most of them were too preoccupied with the start of a second riot; a couple of nurses spared me a look, then did a double-take as they saw what I was holding aloft.

Lily Two looked around. Lily One looked up. Eyes widened. Brows furrowed. They saw me, clear and free.

Twil stared in my general direction, blinking away tears from her clouded eyes, panting for breath. Could she see that far without her glasses? I had to make her understand.

“I’m taking it outdoors, Twil! I’ll drench it in the rain! If you want it, come get it back!”

Horror halted her advance on Twil. She turned her head and looked right at me, then frowned with professional irritation, like I was a farm animal escaped from my pen.

Horror pointed and opened her mouth wide, about to shout some order to the other nurses.

I grabbed the handle of Evee’s wheelchair and resumed invisibility, vanishing from sight and mind alike. Horror’s orders died on hesitating lips. Her frown did not quite clear, but her eyes slid away from me. The Lillies suffered the same fate, forgetting I was there but retaining their emotional response. Twil just stared at the archway out, at the exit.

Fingers shaking like crazy, I shoved the holy book back into Evelyn’s lap. All around us the little groups of patients were trailing off with their chanting, the reason for their rage short-circuited, even if they couldn’t remember exactly why. The spark of the premature riot was snuffed out. I offered an apology and a prayer to Lozzie, whenever she was, hoping that this aligned with her far more experienced plans for productive rabble-rousing.

“Go, Heather, go! Now!” Evelyn hissed.

I didn’t need to be ordered twice. I felt like the Eye itself was opening above me. I grabbed both handles and hurried for the archway, shoulder blades tingling as I felt four sets of eyes burning into my back.

Evelyn and I burst out onto the wooden tiles of the entrance hall. More nurses were hurrying into the dayroom, but the general panic seemed to have subsided. The chanting had died away to nothing, replaced by the unsatisfied grumbling murmur of a reluctant but grudging crowd.

“Don’t stop again,” Evelyn hissed. “Get us outdoors, ASAP.”

“Right! Yes! Absolutely! One hundred percent!”

We left the same way we’d entered, past a pair of Knightly guards and out through the side-entrance, back into the little swirls of drizzling rain, beneath the wrinkled black underside of the Eye, beyond the walls of Cygnet Asylum. We descended the concrete switchback ramp at speed, the wheelchair tires whispering against the damp surface, then out onto the brick pathways, out into the saturated lawns of the hospital grounds. I pulled one of the towels back up over Evelyn’s shoulders and head, to protect her from the worst of the rain; she hurried to stash Twil’s book and Twil’s glasses beneath her grey dressing gown. We weren’t actually going to damage or destroy the book — we had no idea what that might do. We just needed her to follow us. I wouldn’t have been able to countenance damaging a book regardless, whatever it contained.

I hurried away from the front of the building. Misty raindrops clung to my hair and face, swirling in the gyre of my breath.

“Heather, slow down,” Evelyn hissed. “Slow down. We’ve made it out. They still can’t see us. Slow down, slow down.”

“Alright—” I panted, heart still racing. The wound in my left leg burned like a hot iron pressed into my flesh, but I did my best to ignore it, despite my awkward limp. “What now? We need them to follow, don’t we? What—”

“Pull me to one side, off the path. Watch the doorways.”

“But the muddy ground—”

“Just do it. Please.”

I did as Evelyn instructed, wheeling her just off the path and onto the wet grass. The wheels of her chair sunk into the damp earth, but only a little — it wouldn’t be too difficult to push her back onto the pathway. We were completely concealed here, beneath the invisible aura of the Fadestone.

“And pull your own towel back up,” Evelyn hissed. “No sense in you getting all wet as well.”

“Oh, of course,” I muttered, pulling the towel back over my own head and shoulders, making sure to keep one hand on the wheelchair at all times. I tugged my yellow blanket snug around my shoulders as well, to keep off the chill.

The fleshless skull of Cygnet Asylum stared down upon us with a hundred empty sockets, all-seeing yet blinded to our presence. Red-brick naked bone was streaked with the dark stain of the rain, running in slow rivulets down blank windows, dribbling from cold gutters, clinging to spongy, porous, rotting masonry. The skull no longer seemed so empty on the inside; it teemed with the sound of burrowing life, of nurses and patients and Knights, each straining in their own way against the bonds of the institution.

The underside of the Eye loomed over it all, a backdrop to all motion and stillness, from horizon to horizon, all the sky forever and evermore.

I tore my eyes away from that false firmament and back to the hospital. “They’re not coming,” I hissed. “I don’t see anybody coming to the doors.”

“Wait for it.”

“Evee?”

“I know Twil better than you and Raine ever will,” she murmured. “No offense. I have seen her without her kit on, after all.”

I sighed, breath still all a-quiver with adrenaline. “Evee, seeing somebody naked doesn’t mean you know them any better.” I cleared my throat. “You really did, though?”

“Mmhmm.”

“ … what do her tattoos look like?”

“Breathtaking. Now shhh, watch the doors. She’ll be here. I know her. Even in a dream, she would never — ah. There we go.”

Evelyn’s eyesight was better than mine; she’d spotted movement in the gloomy entrance hall a split-second before me. A moment later, Twil burst from the side-doors next to the hospital’s main entrance. She barely looked like herself — a scrawny girl wearing a starched grey uniform, face streaked with tears, screwed up with red-cheeked fury and bottled frustration, little fists clenched at her sides. Her dark hair was a mess, as if her natural curls were straining against the artificial straightening of the dream.

She bypassed the disabled ramp and stomped down the stairs, flicking her head left and right, looking for the scoundrel who had stolen her new religion.

“Oh, Twil,” I murmured. “She looks awful.”

“She’ll be fine soon enough,” Evelyn hissed. “Hold still.”

The Lillies emerged moments later, flying to Twil’s sides, flanking her like a pair of bodyguards. Lily One carried a wide umbrella, shielding Twil and herself from the drizzling rain. Lily Two had dragged a thin raincoat over her grey uniform, a translucent piece of flimsy plastic not good for much except keeping the water off; she had something long and dark curled inside the raincoat, tucked half-within her uniform blazer.

Twil gestured helplessly at the asylum grounds, hands flapping, face collapsing into tears all over again. Lily One attempted to comfort her, while Lily Two peered at the tendrils of woodland, moving her head back and forth as if trying to catch sight of a thief fleeing through the trees.

About fifty feet to the trio’s collective right lay a long flowerbed, lining the front of the main body of the hospital building, just beneath the wide window which looked out from the dayroom. Before either of the Lillies could even think about abandoning their search or coaxing Twil back indoors, a low, dark, fast-moving shape burst from the flowerbed, crossed the lawns at a dead-sprint lope, and plunged into the nearest fringe of woodland.

“Oh, well done!” I hissed a muted cheer. “Well done, Raine. Gosh, I’m surprised she remembered her instructions so well.”

“Huh,” Evelyn grunted. “At least she’s quick on her feet. She better bloody well wait for us, or this could become a complete disaster.”

“She will!” I whispered. “I trust her. Have faith, Evee.”

“Huh.”

Twil and her Lillies were already stepping onto the brick pathways, hurrying in the general direction of Raine’s forest-bound shadow. Lily Two led the way, jogging ahead to make sure she didn’t lose the scent. She passed within two feet of Evelyn and I, splashing through the shallow puddles gathered in the pockets of mortar between the bricks. Her eyes were set and serious, focused on her task. She moved with almost canine grace and purpose, a tracker hound pointing the way along Raine’s trail.

Twil and Lily One followed a little way behind, sheltered beneath the umbrella, holding hands. Twil was still a sobbing mess, clinging on tight. Lily One kept the umbrella steady and led Twil onward with unerring steps. They passed by us too, almost close enough to touch.

“—she— I— I don’t—” Twil was heaving for breath between her broken words. “I can’t believe somebody would take my book like that! It’s so cruel! There’s no reason but to hurt me!”

“It’s okay, Twillamina,” Lily One purred, her voice a burning cocktail of velvet comfort and tightly controlled anger. “We’ll get it back. That … very silly person has no idea who she’s messing with. Right? Isn’t that right? Nobody messes with us three, right?”

“Right,” Twil whined, through a face full of snot and tears.

It hurt to see Twil — so confident and cocky, so full of irrepressible energy, so strong and nigh-near invincible — reduced to this weepy parody of herself.

Twil and the Lillies hurried past us, splashing down the pathways, about to plunge into the woods.

“Right,” Evelyn hissed from beneath the shelter of her increasingly damp towel. “Heather, take us back to the pavilion.”

“The ‘ron-day-voo’,” I said, forcing a little giggle past my stretched nerves. I pushed Evee’s wheelchair back onto the path and turned to follow the Lillies. “Raine did rather enjoy using that word. Pity we didn’t have any watches to synchronize or anything.”

“Don’t give her ideas,” Evelyn grunted. “The state she’s in, she’ll start giving us bloody code names.”

“Oh? The state she’s in?”

“Regressed,” Evelyn snorted.

“You mean this is how she used to be? Before I knew her? When you first met her?”

Ahead of us, the Lillies stepped off the brick pathways and onto the forest trails of woodchip and mulch, with Twil between them. They plunged  into the trees, out of sight within seconds. We would need to go around them to reach the pavilion and the spot where Raine had been instructed to wait.

“Mmhmm,” Evelyn grunted. “Sort of. She’s always been insufferable about that sort of thing. Code names, military jargon. Even when we were younger.”

“Well,” I said. “I wouldn’t mind if Raine gave me a code name. Maybe it would be cute.”

Evelyn sighed. “She seems to have given you one already. ‘Sweet thing’. Which is awful, for the record. I resent having to witness that over and over again.”

A blush crept into my cheeks. “Yes, well. I didn’t ask for that. And that’s hardly a proper ‘code name’. Code names should be like in that one video game Raine plays, the one with the cardboard boxes and the talking heads on the radio.”

“Heather, what are you blathering on about?”

The forest loomed over us. I left the pathway again, heading to the right. The wheels of Evee’s chair sank into the mushy grass, but soon we would be under the canopy, protected from the worst of the rain.

“You know!” I said, warming to the absurdity of my subject; we both needed an antidote to the panic and mayhem of the last few minutes. “Proper code names, like the ones in that game. ‘Sturdy Serpent’, names like that.”

Evelyn twisted in her chair, bringing a tight squint around upon me like the guns of a very irritable little ship. But I loved that look, I loved her confounded face, concealing her simple joy. We would fill these few minutes with much-needed relief before we joined back up with Raine. Evee opened her mouth and started to say something — but then she cut off, eyes going wide.

“Heather, stop!”

I jerked us to a sudden halt, then followed Evee’s gaze.

A fourth figure was making her way down the red brick pathways, sensible shoes splashing in the little puddles. Holding an umbrella over her head, white uniform half concealed beneath the puffy exterior of a large raincoat, eyes scanning the edge of the woods, there she was, yet again.

Horror. Our nurse.

“Shit,” Evelyn hissed between her teeth. “Shit, shit, shit. I thought we’d shaken her.”

Horror’s eyes suddenly flickered with recognition, then narrowed into a very nasty frown.

“Evee!” I squeaked. “She’s looking right at us! She can see us!”

“I know!” Evelyn snapped. “Because I’m panicking! Give me a moment to calm down. Calm. Calm.” Evelyn took a deep breath, then two, then three. Horror picked up her pace, trotting toward us, opening her mouth to shout something. “Calm. Calm. We are not here. We are not here. We cannot be seen. We are unseen. We are not here. We are not here.”

Evelyn’s voice dropped into a sleepy chant. Horror slowed, blinking with confusion, eyes sliding off us once again. She glanced left and right at the rim of the woods. Evelyn took several slow, deep, steady breaths. I stayed absolutely silent, cold sweat plastered down my back and beneath my armpits.

“Alright,” Evelyn murmured, soft and relaxed, calmer than I’d thought possible. “We’re safe.”

“Good. Well done, well done,” I whispered. “But … Evee, we can’t do this if she’s following. We can’t.”

“We’ll just have to get Raine to cut her head off.”

When she said it with that sleepy, relaxed, matter-of-fact tone, I almost believed it might work.

“Evee, I don’t think it’ll help. I’m serious.”

“No,” Evelyn said. “No, this is congruent with the narrative, with the play. A bunch of monsters lure a nurse out into the woods? She’s not even armed. She’s totally alone. She’s walking into a rainy woodland with no back up. I think we should try it. If we can. Fuck her. We put her down before she gets her hands on Twil again.”

“I … oh, she’s … ”

Horror walked right toward us.

Her eyes did not pause on me and Evelyn a second time, but lingered on the edge of the woods, scanning the trees for any sign of her wayward patients and inmates, her cunning little escapees. She strode down the path with a solid, steady click-click-click of her sensible shoes.

She drew level with Evee and I, about fifteen feet away, on the path itself. She stopped.

Horror sighed.

“Where oh where have you gone, you three?” she said to herself. “I suppose I’m going to have to find you myself, and bring you back indoors, aren’t I? I never like solitary confinement for good girls, and you’re all usually so … so good. But one of you was cheating at our board game, I’m sure of that. And now you don’t even want to play. Perhaps I’ll organise a separate game with each of you. Yes, that’s a good idea. One on one, one by one. No more support.”

Horror turned her head. She looked right at me and Evee.

My heart climbed into my throat. Sweat broke out on my face. Evelyn murmured a mantra — “You cannot see us. We are unseen. You cannot see us. We are unseen. You cannot see us.”

“I wonder which way they went?” Horror said. Then she smiled and shrugged, like a comedy character pressed into the wrong role in a horror movie. “Oh well. I’ll just have to set off and find out. All sorts of things happen to good girls gone astray in the woods, after all. You never know what might transpire out there, with the animals and the crazies and the weird old trees. Off we go then!”

Horror stepped off the pathway and strode right past me and Evee. She plunged into the woods, swallowed up in seconds. Her footsteps vanished along with her form.

Evelyn let out a deep breath, slow and steady.

“What do we do?” I hissed. “We can’t deal with her. We can’t even kill her, I’m pretty sure she’ll just come back. Even the King in Yellow couldn’t put her down.”

“Raine,” Evelyn grunted. “Pavilion. Now.”

* * * 

Less than five minutes later — five minutes of pushing Evelyn’s wheelchair down the woodchip pathways which wiggled and wriggled their way through the dripping woods, five minutes of keeping one ear cocked for the sounds of other footsteps tramping through the undergrowth, five minutes of hoping for a glance of Twil or her Lillies through the trees, and praying that we would not blunder into Horror’s sight once again — we reached the place where the trails ran out, where they collapsed into disuse, where wood chips melted into leaf-strewn forest floor. We retraced the steps we’d taken to find the pavilion the first time, down past a little rise, then out into a tiny clearing.

The pavilion, our latest temporary base camp, was waiting exactly as we’d left it, an ugly little parody of a woodland cottage with it’s horrible plastic red roof and concrete floor and hard benches.

Raine was right where she was supposed to be, following her instructions to the letter. She was crouched down behind the end of one of the benches, peering over the armrest at the opposite tree line. I couldn’t see anything in the direction she was looking, but I trusted her instincts better than my own — at least when I lacked all six tentacles and any semblance of abyssal self-hood.

Raine had our supplies slung over one shoulder, safely within the canvas shopping bag she’d stolen on the previous night. She held her machete in her other hand, tucked away inside the sheath.

“Quickly!” Evelyn hissed. “Touch her before she moves!”

I hurried over to the pavilion and wheeled Evelyn’s chair onto the concrete foundation, finally out of the rain once again; fat droplets of cold water splashed onto our extremely damp towels as we passed beneath the rim of the red plastic roof. Raine glanced around at us, eyes sliding away as if her vision was greased; even she couldn’t see us through the Fadestone’s magic.

Raine’s clothes were damp with both water and sweat. Her hair was swept back with the lingering raindrops. Her feet were filthy with mud from running through the woods. Her eyes were wide and alert, every muscle pulled taut with readiness to spring up and sprint away.

I’d never seen Raine like this before — more like a skittish deer than a predator. Raine was often ready for rapid movement, for violence, for swinging fists or a weapon. But she was rarely tense with flight.

She wasn’t scared though, just trying to keep ahead of a hunter she did not want to slay. She could hardly unsheathe her machete against Twil and the Lillies.

I stopped Evee’s wheelchair at Raine’s side, let go with one hand, and grabbed Raine’s shoulder.

“Woah!” Raine flinched hard, eyes flying wide with shock, almost recoiling from me — but her free hand came up and clamped over mine, holding steady even as she jerked backward.

“It’s me! It’s us! Hi! Hi, Raine!”

Raine panted for a second, eyes wide, mouth hanging open. Then she started to laugh. “Oh, haha, oh wow. Oh, wow, that is weird. That is a unique sensation. Haha! Hey there, sweet thing. Hey there, Evee. Hoooooo that’s … yeah, unique.”

“What?” Evelyn demanded. “What’s unique?”

“Memories and clarity all rushing back,” Raine said. “Ten seconds ago I wasn’t quite sure what I was doing crouching down here, ‘cept waiting for you two.” Her eyes flashed toward the tree line. “We’re invisible like this, right? Invisible and unheard?”

“Yes, that’s right,” I said.

Evelyn grunted. “Just don’t surprise me or jog my arms, or my concentration will shatter.”

Raine straightened up, careful to keep physical contact with me at all times; I wished I had all my parts and selves, my extra limbs, so I could simply anchor us together without all this fuss. Raine reached over and held the opposite handle of Evee’s wheelchair, so I could stop worrying about losing contact again. I reached up and touched her head, running my fingers through her hair and down the back of her neck. She showed her teeth and closed her eyes, purring with deep satisfaction. I felt a blush creeping up my cheeks, though this was hardly the time.

“Good … good girl, Raine,” I murmured. “You did really, really well. You followed all your instructions. Good girl.”

“Mmmmm,” she purred, then cracked her eyes open again. “Had to improvise when I saw our target and her pair of indentured fuck servants come out of the hospital. So what happened? We moved our plans forward? I’m game for that.”

I lowered the damp towel from over my head, then helped Evelyn do the same with her own.

“First,” said Evelyn, “where’s the fox, where’s my grandmother?”

Raine shook her head, glancing toward the tree line again. “She ran off. Doing her own thing somewhere. Couldn’t have stopped her even if I’d tried.”

“Huh,” Evelyn grunted. “Fine. Pass Praem back to me, please.”

“Sure thing.”

Raine reached into the canvas bag and produced the Praem Plushie. We’d left Praem with Raine in order to avert a worst-case scenario, in case Evee and I ended up getting compromised or captured. With Praem at her side, Raine stood a better chance of breaking us back out. With the plan a success for now, it was time to return daughter to mother.

The Praem Plushie looked identical to before. The flat eyes, the straight-line mouth, the soft felt-fuzz hair. Those flat eyes lingered on me as Raine placed the doll into Evee’s lap. Evelyn took one hand off the Fadestone so she could tuck Praem safely inside her grey dressing gown once more, alongside the book.

“Come on then,” Raine said. “Gimme the low-down, debrief me. Where do we stand? What’s the plan?”

“We got Twil to follow us,” I said. “We have the book, and also her eyeglasses.”

Raine snorted with laughter. “Nice score.”

“But we have an unforeseen complication.”

Evelyn and I quickly explained what had happened inside the hospital building, including the details of the board game and Twil’s book — which we showed to Raine, just in case. Raine nodded along with great interest as Evelyn rattled off how the pair of Lillies had actually protected Twil, how they’d been flanking her to keep Horror from winning at the strange board game. We told Raine what had happened upon our escape, and who had unexpectedly joined us.

Raine winced. “Horror, right. Our fat-bottomed fuck-pig pretend nurse. I thought I saw a fourth figure in the woods on my way back.”

I hissed through my teeth. “Oh no, she’s not caught up with them already, has she?”

Raine shook her head and pointed at the tree line, directly opposite the bench, where she’d been staring earlier. “Nah. Twil and her goon-twins are circling the forest, left first, then right. They’ll pass through here if they keep going, I’m pretty sure. Miss Spank bait—”

“Tch, Raine,” I said. “Must you?”

Raine laughed. “Spank bait. Horror. The nurse. Come on, she’s somebody’s walking fantasy. I’m trying to break her down here, sweet thing. If this is a dream, she’s gotta be dismantled.”

“I … well … fair enough,” I sighed.

Evelyn rolled her eyes. “Keep it in your knickers for five seconds, Raine, please.”

Raine smirked. “Alright, alright, I give in. Our extremely fuckable nurse is tracing the edge of the woods, as far as I can tell from what little I saw of her. If she makes it all the way down here it won’t be for a while yet. We’ve maybe got fifteen minutes in this spot.”

“We need to bait Twil,” Evelyn said, before I could call Raine a ‘bad girl’ for getting weird about Horror. “We’re on a clock, a time limit. We need to peel her off, get her alone. Ideas, now. Go.”

Raine shrugged. “We could wait here for about another ten seconds.”

Evelyn sighed. “Really?”

“Um,” I added. “Yes, Raine, excuse me?”

Raine held one hand to her right ear. “Listen.”

We all fell silent. The crunching of leaves beneath three pairs of shoes reached my ears moments later.

Raine winked and put a finger to her lips.

Lily Two appeared first, emerging from between the trees as a ghostly transparent blur topped with a head of flame. She stepped out into the clearing and resolved into nothing more outlandish than a young woman wrapped in a raincoat, with red hair beneath the flimsy hood. She paused for a second, surprised at the pavilion, then stepped beneath the roof and lowered her plastic hood. Her eyes flickered across the concrete floor, lingered on the empty fire pit, and examined the wooden benches. Then she sniffed, drawing a deep breath through her nose.

A muffled call came from beyond the tree line. “Lil?”

Lily Two turned and replied. “Here! There’s a building!”

Lily One slunk out of the woods like a feline predator — not on the prowl, but promenading for all to see, showing off her sheen and shine, her sleek sinuous movements, her slender muscle and smooth surfaces. Long blonde hair swayed as she stepped forth, sharp eyes darting around the clearing, face pinched with superior irritation and elevated anger. She held her umbrella firmly in one hand, and Twil in the other.

Twil looked lost and sad, half-blind without her thick glasses. Her neatly polished black shoes were covered in woodland mud. Her thick dark tights were splashed with rainwater. Her hair was all frizzy with the humidity in the air. Her grey tie was loose. She sagged with melancholy and exhaustion as Lily One helped her across the clearing and beneath the roof of the pavilion.

She seemed a bedraggled kitten next to these elemental forces of sapphic fantasy.

Lily One lowered the umbrella and blew out a big sigh. “Didn’t know this was out here,” she said, then wrinkled her nose. “Ugh, it’s covered in cobwebs and dust. What is this even for, camp fires and singalongs?”

Lily Two sniffed the air again, taking deep breaths through her nose.

Raine whispered: “Do we make a move?”

“Not sure,” Evelyn murmured. “Let’s watch them for a moment.”

I hissed, “You know what to say to Twil, though, Evee? You have a plan, correct?”

“Mmhmm,” Evelyn grunted. “I was going to speak to her about being a werewolf. But now I’ve seen her, and seen these two … I don’t know. I may have been wrong. Let’s watch them for a moment. Then we can get close and take them all at once, get me in front of Twil, get me space to speak with her.”

“Gotta make a move sooner or later,” said Raine.

“Yes, yes,” Evelyn hissed. “Just let me gather data.”

Twil whined, gasping for breath. Her legs were quivering. “I have to sit, I must sit down,” she panted.

“Oh!” Lily One tutted. “Twillamina, no, these benches are filthy. Can you not hold on? We … well, no, I suppose we can’t turn around, can we? Damn it. Damn it all to hell, this is so unfair.”

“I really do have to sit,” Twil whined. Her face scrunched up, threatening fresh tears. “I’m so sorry, I’m really sorry. I’m so weak—”

“You are not weak!” Lily One said, then burst into a big bright smile. “Here.” She let go of Twil’s hand, put her umbrella down on one of the benches, and then quickly unbuttoned her blazer.

“Oh!” Twil’s eyes went wide. “No! No, I couldn’t—”

“Tch!” Lily One tutted. “Nonsense. What’s ours is yours.” She peeled the smartly pressed grey blazer away from her shoulders, reducing herself down to shirt and tie above her grey skirt. Then she shook out the blazer and draped it over the bench, to act as a cover for Twil’s sensitive bottom. “Here. Sit. Sit!”

Lily One herded Twil onto the bench. Twil eased herself down, then sighed with visible relief. “T-thank you. Thank you. You two do so much for me, more than I deserve.”

“Don’t talk such utter rubbish, Twillamina.” Lily One laughed. “We both love you very much. And you do just as much for us, you do know that, don’t you?”

Twil tried to smile. “I do hope we can find the book. I … I don’t know what’ll happen without it.”

“Yes, so do I. It’s alright though. We don’t need it.” She tapped her chest, just over her heart. “The real words are always in here.”

“Mm,” Lily Two grunted. She had stalked halfway around the perimeter of the pavilion, sniffing the air. “For her, maybe. But for you and I? Might be messy.”

Lily One’s sharp eyes flashed toward her counterpart. “Shh.”

Twil looked up, mildly confused. “I’m sorry?”

Lily One smiled down at Twil. “It’s nothing, love. Just … you know we’ll always be together, whatever happens. But you’re right. If we don’t have the book, we might not be able to protect you so competently. We won’t go anywhere, I can promise that. But we’ll lose our … extra help. You need to be prepared.”

Twil blinked several times. “I don’t quite understand.”

Lily One reached down and smoothed Twil’s hair over her scalp. “It’ll be alright.” Then she sighed and tutted. “Oh, blast. This weather is doing a number on our hair, isn’t it? Lil, you’re so lucky with your rusty top,” she said to Lily Two. “You never get frizzy.”

“Mm,” Lily Two just grunted.

Evelyn was frowning harder and harder. “What the hell are they talking about? Did you two catch that part?”

“I have no idea,” I whispered. “I still can’t figure out what they are, either to Twil, or outside the dream.”

Raine purred: “You think they’re more than just dream people?”

“Maybe,” I said. “But I have no idea what.”

Lily Two sniffed again, frowning at the scent she was picking up.

Lily One sighed and turned to her. “My darling, my dearest, the other half of my very being, what on earth are you doing?”

“I can smell her,” Lily Two said. She slid something from inside her raincoat — a truncheon, made of black metal. “Both of them.”

Lily One froze. “Oh?”

Lily Two nodded. “The nasty one, the brute who needed a shower. And the little one with the silly blanket.”

I tutted, bristling, tugging my yellow blanket tighter around my shoulders. Raine just grinned.

Lily Two went on: “They were here. Maybe seconds before we arrived. There’s other scents too, ones I don’t know.” She sniffed the air again. “A … an animal? A dog or a fox or something. And another person, but I don’t know her. Maybe something else too, something like a … living … pillow?”

“Wait a second,” I whispered. “She’s doing what Twil does. The real Twil, I mean, back in the real world. She’s tracking by scent!”

“Fuck,” Evelyn hissed. “I may have gotten this all wrong.”

“Ah?”

Evelyn sighed. “These two might be parts of Twil herself. Which is not what I expected. Maybe I need to talk to all three of them.”

“New plan?” Raine said.

“Maybe,” Evelyn grunted.

Lily One just sighed. “We’ll never track them in this rain. We’ve failed.”

Lily Two turned toward her blonde counterpart. “We can’t go back now.” She gestured at Twil. “If we don’t have the book, she gets left by herself.”

Twil blinked at this exchange, as if she didn’t quite comprehend. Lily One just smiled, then stroked Twil’s hair again, and said: “Twillamina, darling, sweetheart? Lil and I need to have a little chat, is that okay?”

“Okay … ” Twil murmured, trailing off.

Lily One nodded, then turned back around and marched over to the other Lily, leaving Twil a little way behind.

“We’re breaking role,” she said, serious but not angry. “That’s a risk. You know that’s a risk. We’re burning fuel just talking like this, let alone properly. One real sentence and we’d both pop.”

Lily Two crossed her arms and held her nightstick in one loose hand. She looked uncomfortable. “We don’t have a choice. We’ll be dry in what — an hour? Two? And that’s subjective time. Not objective! We could flash out and leave these archetypes as empty as nothing. Especially if the woman upstairs is paying any attention.”

Lily One sighed — and glanced upward, at the sky, at the Eye.

“It’s not paying attention,” she said. “That’s the problem.”

My eyes went wide. My mouth hung open.

“What the … ” Evelyn hissed.

“The more I hear the less I comprehend!” I whispered. “They can see it, they can see the Eye! What—”

Lily Two was already carrying on. “I hate this dream,” she said. “I hate dreams. Especially flat ones.”

“It’s nonsense,” Lily One agreed. “Everything is so washed out. One dimensional.”

“Humans.” Lily Two tutted.

Twil listened to this conversation as if nothing was out of place, as if her two bodyguards and lovers were not wildly yanking at the stage props and scenery and pulling up the boards beneath their own feet.

Lily One turned and frowned out into the woods. “Do you think one of them is the dreamer causing all this?”

“Can’t be,” Lily Two scoffed. “Humans can’t dream.”

“It was the riot leader,” Lily One added. “She was a dreamer. I wish we could contact her, but Twil’s terrified of her. There’s no chance.”

“And she’s not human,” Lily Two said. “Which is my entire point. Case dismissed.”

“Soooooo,” said Lily One, taking a deep breath, twirling bright blonde hair around the fingers of one hand. “Maybe one of the other humans is not … human?”

“Yes!” I hissed. “I’m right here! Oh my gosh, Evee, we have to talk to them. We have to—”

“Hold,” Evelyn said. “This could be a trap. We have no idea.”

Raine chuckled. “I like the blonde one. I’d let her lead me into a trap any day. Let’s rock and roll. Let’s go.”

“Raine!” I hissed.

But Lily One was turning in a little circle, eyes passing over the edge of the trees, lingering on the benches, darting about the narrow space beneath the pavilion.

“Are you out there, dreamer?” she said. “Are you watching us right now?”

Lily Two went stiff as she realised what her counterpart was suggesting. She raised her nightstick and started to wave it through the air, as if brushing cobwebs aside, checking for our presence. She was going in totally the wrong direction, facing away from us.

“Evee,” I hissed. “These must be the twins Stout was talking about! It’s the only thing that makes any sense!”

“Hold,” Evelyn grunted. “Hold steady. We don’t know what they are.”

Lily One sighed and opened her hands. “We’ve dropped our roles,” she said, speaking to the air, to the invisible presence, to us. “The more we do this, the faster we burn through our lucidity. And when that happens, Twillamina is all alone. Come on out if you’re there, dreamer. Come out so we can chat. Human or not.”