Darkhaven

I’d meant to go and visit Zenna that afternoon, and that’s what I told Alex I was doing, although he was barely aware of me talking as he sat, unfocussed eyes vaguely following the men chasing the ball on the screen. But as I closed the front door behind me, the reality of what I’d just done sank right in. I couldn’t do it to Zenna too. Not yet. If she was awake, she’d ask. If not, well, she wouldn’t know I’d visited anyway. And another little – okay, large – part of me was still mad at her for what she’d done, and I knew neither of us could handle a conversation about that at the moment. I was relieved when Donovan messaged to say they were having a service for Stephen that evening.

I had been right, at least, about the fire not being everfire, but it had still been fierce. Keraun’s rain and the firebreak had protected the neighbouring land, but the building was gutted and most of the Darkhaven bush destroyed including Liam’s pergola, where Donovan had built a pyre that smelled faintly of diesel. At least it wasn’t petrol. That scent had already haunted me when I fuelled up the Mazda on my way here, the smell hitting my nose and triggering a detailed recall of kneeling in the gravel before Sean’s sneering face.

The smoke hung heavy in the air, and I pushed back the waves of memory threatening to replay the day before. I stood alongside Dr Whittaker in the cluster of charred stumps and blackened furniture where the pergola had been, kicking up bits of ash and dead leaves with my toe and watching them drift back to the earth in the late-afternoon light. My chest was still, hollow. Stephen would never sit out here under the jasmine again, sipping tea with Liam and watching fairy-wrens play in the fountain while Savah swished her tail. The feeling swelled like saltwater tide when I realised I’d never again chat to Stephen over the comfortable hum of a car engine or get to work with him if I joined Darkhaven.

I glanced at Liam, propped up in a chair, while Donovan fussed about Stephen’s body. Liam looked exhausted. Sean’s injection had turned out to be Viciretro, the “cure” for the Praegressus program that Keraun had discovered, intended to return him to ordinary human gene expression. But I had knocked the needle out before the full dose had been delivered, and we weren’t sure yet if the change would be permanent.

Dr Whittaker had cleaned Stephen up, wiping away the blood, dressing him in fresh clothes and placing a bandage over the bullet wound on his head, a stark white reminder of why we were here.

We didn’t talk. The doctor stepped up first and laid a small handful of daisies on Stephen’s chest. She offered her arm to Liam. I took his other side, and he hobbled, as if every cell in his body hurt, to the edge of the pyre. He set a long black feather next to the daisies. We escorted him back and eased him onto his cushion before I turned back to the pyre. I reached into my pocket. I’d forgotten to return the tracking bracelet before my exams, and then I hadn’t had a chance. It flashed in the light. Sean had cut away the Jeans when he took the GPS out, so it simply read Superhuman. I laid it on Stephen’s chest. ‘Thank you for looking out for me,’ I whispered.

Donovan stepped up and placed a coin next to our tokens. I couldn’t see what was on it. We formed a line beside the pyre, then Donovan cleared her throat.

“Lovely is the night,′ she began. ′A hiding place, fit for the most beautiful dreams.′

She recited the poem by heart, one I’d never heard before, and for an inane moment I wondered what Mrs Johnsen would have made of it.

“But wait for the night′ – Donovan’s cadence brought a finality to the air around us – ′and our salvation.′

We stood in silence. In the distance, a magpie warbled.

‘Peace in the dark,’ Donovan said softly.

‘Peace in the dark,’ Liam and Doctor Whittaker echoed. I let my lips form the words. The phrase had the weight of long tradition, one I wasn’t quite part of. Not yet.

Donovan stepped forward with a lighter and the pyre whooshed into flame as the accelerant caught. We stood and watched the fire dance until it became too hot to bear, too much like yesterday, then we retreated. Donovan stood a little way away and stared at the flames, her expression closed. Doctor Whittaker helped me settle Liam on the blackened patio steps and disappeared to her own reflection.

Movement at the side of the building caught my eye, and I peered around to see Savah picking her way through the ash and charred sticks. Liam smiled and extended a hand. She rubbed her face on his fingertips, then brushed past his legs to sniff my boot. She was covered in soot, but otherwise seemed unharmed.

‘We worried she’d died,’ Liam said. The cat purred as he stroked her spine.

I watched them both, feeling into my intuition to see if Liam would prefer time alone, but it felt right to stay. I perched on the steps next to him, feeling like a shattered pane of glass held together with sticky tape. But I also had an unexpected sense of peace.

Maybe Liam had known what I was about to ask, although he claimed that his clairvoyance was no longer working for him. Maybe it was just the look on my face as tears crept out of my eyes and my mouth lifted in a smile while a magpie warbled from a burnt branch above our heads.

‘It’s part of the transformation,’ he said. ‘A deeper understanding of how life works, even if you can’t quite comprehend it up here.’ He tapped his temple. ‘We have made these advancements so quickly, by rewriting DNA. The human mentality is very strong, and it takes a lot to make it see new possibilities. Eventually, you’ll know that death itself is a beautiful thing, a transition, not an ending. But for now, your reality still tells you it’s a permanent loss.’

I toyed with the zipper of my boot. I couldn’t quite get it. But I did. It was muddling. ‘I’m still sad, though.’

He nodded. ‘That’s part of the beauty.’

Beautiful sadness. I sort of smiled. ‘What about you?’

‘Catherine says it might all come back, she can’t quite tell yet. My body isn’t healing properly, but when it does, it might kick the Viciretro.’

‘What if it doesn’t?’ I tried to imagine going back to being normal. Sure, life would have been a lot less stressful if I hadn’t been through what we were now referring to as “Sean”, which encompassed the entire day’s drama. I could probably extend that window of stress back to my Event, actually. But the deep feeling of certainty I had now that I’d regained my intuition was nice. It was hard to imagine giving that up.

Liam smiled. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll be beating you at poker again before you know it.’

‘Not a chance,’ I said. ‘My intuition is better now.’

‘Then I might have to teach you a new game to even the odds.’

We laughed gently. The sound fell about the burnt bush in soft, surprised echoes.

‘I liked Keraun,’ he said. Before I could ask him to elaborate, Doctor Whittaker reappeared with red-rimmed eyes and Liam nodded, reaching up for her hand. I helped her get him into the car, bundling Savah in after him. As I shut the door and turned away, the doctor caught my arm.

‘Thank you, Gabby,’ she said.

I wasn’t entirely sure what for. Watching Liam, so she could have her own moment? Something else? It didn’t matter. ‘You’re welcome, Doctor Whittaker.’

She smiled. ‘Call me Catherine.’

I nodded, and then they were gone, a trail of dust settling over the gravel drive.

Donovan said I didn’t have to stay, which I interpreted to mean she didn’t want me to stay, so I left her beside the smouldering pyre and went back to the city.

Alex seemed to have recovered and greeted me with his usual reserved demeanour from the kitchen, where he was making his surprisingly good vegan pizzas. Dad was due home on Tuesday – I was suspicious he’d even left – and Alex would fly back to Canberra. Everything was normal. For him, at least. I’d gotten the message from Dad too and was torn about whether I should go home and find out where his loyalties really were or beg asylum from Donovan and avoid the awkward conversation. The mission he’d been called away for on Saturday was obviously the Sean attack. I was quiet through the meal, but I brushed it off as exam stress. Alex was relaxed and happy, and that was good enough for me.

***

The next evening, I knew I couldn’t put it off any longer. I went to the hospital and asked for Zenna’s room, only to be told that she’d gone home that afternoon.

‘So soon?’ I asked.

The nurse was already gone, bustling off down the hallway. I followed the colour-coded stripes painted on the walls back to the elevators and went to Zenna’s house. In a way, I was relieved – it would be less awkward than a hospital room.

Zenna’s mum met me at the door, smiled thinly and showed me inside. I declined her offer of tea in case the harpy was about and knocked on Zenna’s bedroom door.

‘Hi, Zenna,’ I said when she opened it, clutching a sheaf of paper. She went straight back to sit on her bed, legs drawn up to her chest and arms wrapped around them. White bandages covered her left arm from the elbow down. I turned her desk chair around to face the bed and sat down.

Silence.

‘Do you want tea, or something?’ she asked.

I shook my head. ‘I went to the hospital first. I’m glad you’re home. How are you feeling?’

‘How do you think?’

Heat rose in my face. ‘Well, I don’t know, I’ve never –’ I caught myself before I said it. Don’t start anything, Gabby.

‘Never tried to top yourself?’

‘I’m sorry,’ I began.

Zenna gave me a black glare. ‘Sorry for what?’ Her voice was a vicious jab. ‘Sorry you weren’t there for me when I needed a friend? Sorry you ran off to deal with your shit while I was bleeding out in the bathroom? Sorry you took so long to visit me that I wasn’t even at the hospital by the time you showed up? Or are you just sorry you came here now? Sorry you have a friend who is so screwed up?’

I stared at her, meeting her gaze with burning defiance. There was something off about her eyes.

‘Fuck you,’ I said, surprising myself with my aggression. ‘You have no idea what I’ve been through this year, and you throw all this crap in my face.’

‘No, you have no idea what I’ve been through. Everyone has shit going on, Gabby. Your uni decision isn’t the biggest thing in the world. I just needed someone to hear me. And even when I cracked apart right in front of you –’

‘You mean, sliced up your arm and shoved it in my face, then told me it was my fault.’

‘I mean, when I was out of my mind with desperation, you turned your back. So fuck you too.’

The door, which I’d left ajar, moved. Zenna’s cat, a scruffy brown and white fluffball, nosed the door open, wound itself around the corner and jumped up on the bed. It settled on Zenna’s papers and stared at me. I looked away, out the window, watching the jacaranda next door waving its delicate lavender blossoms against the evening sky. A crescent moon flashed in and out of view. Something nagged at me. The way she’d said “everyone has shit going on”.

‘Zenna, do you remember what I told you? About the lightning?’

She bit the words off harshly. ‘What are you talking about?’

The question whipped me in the face, along with an intuitive knowing, and guilt pressed like granite stones in my stomach. Donovan had got to her. It was supposed to be my job and I hadn’t done it. I imagined Donovan’s criticisms about irresponsibility and weakness of character as she took care of Zenna for me. And it was my fault for telling her in the first place, when I should have known better. I suddenly longed to leave, to find a quiet, dark place where no one was accusing me of anything. ‘Maybe we should talk later,’ I suggested.

‘There won’t be a later.’

I regarded her face, trying to intuit her meaning. ‘What are you saying, Zenna?’

‘Mum and Dad are sending me away.’

‘What? Where?’

‘A place down south, somewhere near Yallingup.’

‘What, like a mental hospital?’ I blurted. Whoops. ‘Sorry.’ I looked down at my hands, toying with a loose thread on the cushion of her chair.

‘Your bluntness is the one thing you don’t need to be sorry for. I like that about you.’

I met her eyes. We almost smiled at each other.

‘It’s a meditation retreat for teenagers with issues, I think. Lots of stupid hippie shit. Yoga and art classes and group therapy.’

‘How long?’

She shrugged. ‘I think a month or two is normal.’

I stared back out the window. ‘How are –’

Her shadowed eyes flashed in anger. ‘God help me, if you ask me how I’m feeling one more time, I will kill you.’

Maybe Zenna was the one with a gift for intuition. I was royally screwing this up.

‘I’m sorry, I’m just trying to…’ Even I didn’t know what I was doing. Making up with Cecelia was so simple. Zenna had never been one to forgive easily. And if I was totally honest, I was equally unwilling to move towards the forgiveness table. A large part of me still felt like she should be apologising.

‘Stop being sorry when you don’t know what for.’ Zenna stood, her arms folded across her chest. The cat rolled off the paper and curled up to sleep. I glanced at the document, and staggered. The handwriting at the top was familiar.

Don’t let them take you.

‘Zenna,’ I began, unsure how to bring it up, since she now had no idea about any of this.

‘Please go. I’m tired.’

I hovered. ‘Can I…’ Can I what? Read your private paperwork about your mental state?

‘Get out.’

‘Okay, fine,’ I said, standing and walking to the door. Maybe when she got back I could ask her, follow the lead. ‘But if you want friends to be there for you, you have to actually let them be there. Even when they’re not saying all the right things.’

‘You should hear yourself. Bye, Gabby,’ she said, closing the door as soon as I was a centimetre out if it. The air displacement blew my hair past my face.

I let myself out of the Robinson house, slammed my car door and drove away, angry tears filling my eyes. Then I thought about how much of a verbal klutz I’d been, and they turned to frustrated tears. I was losing one of my best friends, and nothing I could say worked. Then Hey Jude came on the radio and the tears turned sad, then expanded into giant, uncontrollable sobs. I turned up the music so I couldn’t hear my gasps and hoped no one would pull up alongside at the traffic lights. We’d be okay. I thought. I hoped.

But the tears didn’t stop, not while I drove home, and not while I cleaned my teeth, which was pretty messy while crying, and not until long after I went to bed. I cried for Zenna. I cried for Alex. I cried for Stephen. I cried for meeting my mother and finding out there was no love there and never would be. I cried for Keraun being snatched away to face trial for a murder he’d committed for me. Finally, I cried for myself until I fell asleep.