“Fine, I’ll come, but I’m going to go take a nap first, so call me when I need to get ready.”
“You’re taking a nap at this time? You really need to get yourself out of this funk Tegan,” Rita says, her shrewd brown eyes all judgemental.
“Whatever. I’m lethargic. And I’ll get out of my funk when I find my dad.”
I leave her then and go upstairs to take the aforementioned nap. When I wake up it’s seven in the evening and Finn is sitting on the bed watching me worriedly. I rub my eyes and sit up.
“What’s your problem?” I ask, all grumpy.
“You’ve been sleeping during the day, again,” he observes.
“Well spotted Holmes,” I reply snappily, getting out of bed to find some jeans and a t-shirt clean enough to wear to Rita’s new-years-beach-thing.
“Are you depressed?” Finn asks, his eyes still trained on me as I continue my search for clothes.
“I’m always depressed, life is depressing. My life in particular.”
“You could’ve fooled me. I mean, you seemed really lonely when I’d been watching you back in Manchester. But ever since you’ve been back you’ve had a bit more of a swing in your step. That was until the whole fiasco at Whitfield’s.”
“Listen Finn, I don’t want to self-analyse right now. I just want to go and get drunk.” I pull on a crumpled grey t-shirt and some black jeans with my boots, run my fingers through my hair, and I’m ready to go. I grab my coat and walk right past Finn to hurry downstairs where Rita, Alvie, Gabriel and Delilah have culminated in the kitchen.
They’re all really dressed up and Rita gives me an appraising look. “That’s what you’re wearing eh?”
I shrug and pull on my coat. Wolf comes over and gives me a slobbery lick on the back of my hand. I kneel down to rub his head. “Hey, are you coming with us, boy?” I ask. Wolf barks once in response, so I take that as an affirmative.
I go over to the kitchen cupboard and pull out the bottle of vodka I’d hidden there earlier in the week. I shove it inside my coat without anyone noticing. We all huddle into Finn’s van and make the half hour journey out to Sycamore Strand. The place is really living up to its reputation right now. Somebody has lit hundreds of candles and has spread them out all along the sand. They twinkle like fairies in the dark. Magical.
There are about a hundred people gathered, all camped out on woolly blankets and sipping on bottles of beer. There’s a portable stereo sitting on a rock playing some kind of trance music. It really sets the scene, and I’m glad Rita asked me to come. This is the perfect place for me to get drunk and forget for a little while.
Most of the people here are hippies, they chat and laugh and welcome us right into the party. I sit down on a blanket in between Rita and Alvie, while surreptitiously taking sips of the vodka that sits nestled in the inside pocket of my coat. I haven’t got the patience it takes to get drunk on beer tonight.
I notice that Finn’s being quite flirtatious with Delilah, but she’s not really reciprocating. Still, Finn being Finn, her reserved demeanour doesn’t deter him. Sometimes I wonder if he flirts because he’s actually interested in a girl, or simply for the fun of it. He enjoys being the wind up merchant does Finn. I lay back on the blanket, while Rita and Alvie continue to chat over my head. I stare up at the night sky, where thousands of stars glitter against a deep, black canvas. No moon tonight though. At least I can’t seem to spot it anywhere.
I’m feeling increasingly more tipsy from the alcohol, and my eyes tip back to look over where there are shrubs, grass and rocks beyond the sand. I hear the motor of a vehicle approach before I spot a van driving by. It keeps to the grass and passes by the gathering of people on the beach, continuing to the very end where it disappears around the side of a cliff.
Even though it’s dark, my eyes still register the colour of the vehicle. Red. That provokes a memory, and I try to remember when it was that I last saw a red van. My mind is a little hazy, but soon the answer presents itself. The time when I’d been searching Freemont park for Dad with Ethan, and I’d had that fizzing feeling in my stomach until a red van had driven off down the road. Had my dad been in the red van, or perhaps whoever it is who took him?
Abruptly, I sit up and pat Wolf on the head, who has been sitting by my feet. I tell the others that I need to go and relieve my bladder somewhere private so that they won’t question where I’m off to. Wolf follows hot on my heels and I hurry to the end of the beach, which takes quite a while since it’s about a mile long.
When I get past the corner of the cliff, I peer up at the overhang as it looms above me. I rush to the other side, but the van is nowhere to be seen. Then something flickers far off in the distance. I squint my eyes to see, it looks like somebody’s set a fire in one of the caves. Normally I wouldn’t try to investigate all on my own, but I have Wolf with me as well as the idiotic courage of alcohol. I’m feeling brave, and I continue on through the rocks and sand before coming to the opening of a cave.
The red van is parked just outside the cave, I hadn’t been able to see it before from such a distance. Something heavy and dark fills the air, the atmosphere is thick with an unpleasantness I can quite put my finger on. And crap, my palms are tingling again. This is it, my dad could be on the other side of this cave. The problem is, I don’t know who else is in there, and whether I’ll be a match for them. I really should have gotten the others to come with me. All of a sudden, I’m as sober as a judge. It’s funny how fear will do that to you.
Wolf begins to whimper as he stands next to my leg. I try to hush him but it sounds like he’s in pain. Then he drops to the sand and his entire body starts to convulse. I fall to my knees and put my hands on his fur, which is abnormally cold and rough. What the hell is going on?
I rub him up and down his back and he continues to whine and shiver, his whole form shaking helplessly, and it almost looks like he’s shifting in and out of my vision. Perhaps I’m not as sober as I thought.
I can hear the fire crackling now from inside the cave, as well as a number of voices speaking in unison, chanting almost. I don’t want to leave Wolf alone, but I know that whatever is causing him to shake so violently is coming from the cave. I take a step forward and peer around the stone entrance.
Shadows dance on the high stone ceiling, and smoke rises from the flames. Everything is blurry though, and I can’t seem to make out the figures properly as they circle the fire in the centre of the space. The vision puts me in mind of Rumpelstiltskin, as he danced around the fire at night, singing the riddle of his name.
My eyes draw up then, and I notice that there’s a makeshift platform above the fire, standing almost eight foot tall. And God, there’s a body stretched out flat upon it. Whoever it is, they howl in pain as the flames rise higher and lick at their flesh.
In my head, I can’t help but to recite the children’s nursery rhyme, today I’ll brew, tomorrow bake, merrily I’ll dance and sing, for the next day will a stranger bring, little does my lady dream, Rumpelstiltskin is my name. It’s always stuck with me that rhyme, ever since I’d been a kid. There was something about it that I found very creepy, and it resembles the current situation quite accurately.
The figures continue to move in circles, the movements are harsh and barbaric. In fact, they resemble the gestures of the magical families. Their words are foreign to me, yet I know that their meaning will not bode well.
I keep my body pressed flat against the stone wall, as I move further and further inside the cave. I should be running a mile, but that pull is there again, the one that pulled me to find Rebecca in Whitfield’s mansion. The heat of the fire causes a bead of sweat to trickle down my forehead, it catches in my eyebrow.