streets created dark blotches blanking out the stars. She would never have been able to walk around like this back in Cape Town.
The Gat River gurgled in its bed when they rounded the corner nearing their destination. Geese honked next door but The Owl House carried its own silence, its blank white shutters keeping the world out from the mysteries contained within its walls. Helen had visited once or twice during the day. She’d never considered coming here at night and now, she began to wonder at the wisdom of this decision because the structure seemed heavier, a bastion for a vast, invisible castle.
The Owl House vibrated in her vision, fuzzy at its edges. Trystan let go of her hand when she approached, keeping a respectful distance.
“Aren’t you coming with me to have a closer look?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Been here plenty of times. I prefer this view. Go to the arch there by the fence and look into the yard.”
The moment her hand touched the fence she recoiled, almost as if she’d experienced a sharp burst of static.
“Just my imagination,” she mumbled, aware of Trystan watching. Was he testing her?
Careful not brush up against the cacti growing by the fence, she peered into the enclosed garden. The collection of cement camels, owls, pilgrims, mermaids and bottle-skirted hostesses was pretty darn weird during the day. At night, beneath the stars, the statues were absolutely alien. Helen possessed no better way to describe what she saw. Graceful sun worshippers arched backward, balanced on a toe. Had that peacock just shifted? What must this place have looked like when Miss Helen was still alive? She’d read that some sculptures had been painted bright colors, that most of them had been covered in glass. Now naked gray cement shone through. An incredible sadness pervaded this place, as if it waited for the magic to return.
But the magic was still here. It thrummed beneath her fingers, twining into her sinews to whisper its secrets in her heart, a fierce joy at still being, despite the attrition of the years. How many people came here and felt it, as well?
She held up her hand to watch the tiny sparks wiggle about her fingertips. Then she turned to look at Trystan, to see him haloed with a faint blue-green corona. She blinked, and the world shifted back to shadows within shadows beneath a star-studded heaven. Unbidden, tears tracked down her cheeks but she smiled.
Chapter 14
Taking a Stand
Plainly put, Etienne’s weekend sucked. He’d managed to stay out of trouble on Friday and most of Saturday, until one of Odette’s friends took it upon herself to arrange what she termed as a “little surprise” for him.
They ambushed him during the late afternoon while he was walking back from the library with a stack of DVDs he planned to watch, still smiling at the quiet reigning over the school grounds.
One moment he walked along the brick-paved path leading to the dorms, the next, he had all his breath knocked out of him when someone rugby-tackled him.
With a wordless roar of anger, Etienne fought back, biting and kicking, but there were too many assailants, jeering and laughing while a boy much bigger than him pushed him to the ground.
His attackers were the usual suspects among the boarders–Emma, Cedric, Robert, Jannie and Anton. During the week they’d hang back but saw their chance when Odette and her crowd weren’t around.
“C’mon dwarf! Fight back!” Emma taunted. “Or else I’ll tell Odette you wimped out so she can sort you out.”
“Oh, look,” Robert said. “He took out some movies from the library. What a nerd.”
“What’s he got?” someone asked.
“Damn documentaries. How boring. Why you so interested in World War Two, dwarf? D’you know Hitler used to burn people like you in the ovens, slow-roasted dwarfs with all those dirty Jews, gypsies and moffies .”
Etienne cringed but kept still. He’d learned long ago not to try to snatch at anything
The Gat River gurgled in its bed when they rounded the corner nearing their destination. Geese honked next door but The Owl House carried its own silence, its blank white shutters keeping the world out from the mysteries contained within its walls. Helen had visited once or twice during the day. She’d never considered coming here at night and now, she began to wonder at the wisdom of this decision because the structure seemed heavier, a bastion for a vast, invisible castle.
The Owl House vibrated in her vision, fuzzy at its edges. Trystan let go of her hand when she approached, keeping a respectful distance.
“Aren’t you coming with me to have a closer look?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Been here plenty of times. I prefer this view. Go to the arch there by the fence and look into the yard.”
The moment her hand touched the fence she recoiled, almost as if she’d experienced a sharp burst of static.
“Just my imagination,” she mumbled, aware of Trystan watching. Was he testing her?
Careful not brush up against the cacti growing by the fence, she peered into the enclosed garden. The collection of cement camels, owls, pilgrims, mermaids and bottle-skirted hostesses was pretty darn weird during the day. At night, beneath the stars, the statues were absolutely alien. Helen possessed no better way to describe what she saw. Graceful sun worshippers arched backward, balanced on a toe. Had that peacock just shifted? What must this place have looked like when Miss Helen was still alive? She’d read that some sculptures had been painted bright colors, that most of them had been covered in glass. Now naked gray cement shone through. An incredible sadness pervaded this place, as if it waited for the magic to return.
But the magic was still here. It thrummed beneath her fingers, twining into her sinews to whisper its secrets in her heart, a fierce joy at still being, despite the attrition of the years. How many people came here and felt it, as well?
She held up her hand to watch the tiny sparks wiggle about her fingertips. Then she turned to look at Trystan, to see him haloed with a faint blue-green corona. She blinked, and the world shifted back to shadows within shadows beneath a star-studded heaven. Unbidden, tears tracked down her cheeks but she smiled.
Chapter 14
Taking a Stand
Plainly put, Etienne’s weekend sucked. He’d managed to stay out of trouble on Friday and most of Saturday, until one of Odette’s friends took it upon herself to arrange what she termed as a “little surprise” for him.
They ambushed him during the late afternoon while he was walking back from the library with a stack of DVDs he planned to watch, still smiling at the quiet reigning over the school grounds.
One moment he walked along the brick-paved path leading to the dorms, the next, he had all his breath knocked out of him when someone rugby-tackled him.
With a wordless roar of anger, Etienne fought back, biting and kicking, but there were too many assailants, jeering and laughing while a boy much bigger than him pushed him to the ground.
His attackers were the usual suspects among the boarders–Emma, Cedric, Robert, Jannie and Anton. During the week they’d hang back but saw their chance when Odette and her crowd weren’t around.
“C’mon dwarf! Fight back!” Emma taunted. “Or else I’ll tell Odette you wimped out so she can sort you out.”
“Oh, look,” Robert said. “He took out some movies from the library. What a nerd.”
“What’s he got?” someone asked.
“Damn documentaries. How boring. Why you so interested in World War Two, dwarf? D’you know Hitler used to burn people like you in the ovens, slow-roasted dwarfs with all those dirty Jews, gypsies and moffies .”
Etienne cringed but kept still. He’d learned long ago not to try to snatch at anything
Similar Books
