Histories of the Void Garden, Book 1: Pyre of Dreams (19 page)

Stanwick could
see what West meant about Beach. She had been following him since
March, reading so much into his every move, listening to the
transcripts of his interviews with a steely cynicism, but now that
she was in the same room as him, she could sense something about
him. She’d brought him into their world, and she would have to take
ownership of that act now, but she could feel it, exuding from
every mannerism; an overwhelming goofiness.

“You don’t know
anything about your father do you?”

“Huh?”

She watched
West as he walked from the kitchen carrying a plate of food for
David. Dismayed, she stopped him in his tracks, “Tell me, please …
Tell me that you’ve brought David here because of Julien?”

That same dumb
look on West’s face. Stanwick sighed heavily.

“The
assassination? Dr.Julien Beach, the Prometheus of the new world,
stealing the gift of life from the waters of Dannum?”

West looked at
Beach, hoping that he would be able to elaborate, but Beach
shrugged, “Dad was a …"

“Cock?”
Stanwick cut him off, “Yeah, I got that.” She picked up the
Drambuie and poured herself another glass.

“Did you even
read his book?”

David stuffed a
couple of slices of pastrami into his mouth, then answered while
chewing, “No, I never really got a chance.” He sucked his fingers
before continuing, “Someone bought up pretty much every copy, and
there was never a second print run.”

Stanwick
nodded, “The Kings Mosaic. It’s a fascinating read. Dr.Julien
Beach’s attempt to lay bare a global conspiracy of shadowy figures
who he believed appeared time and again throughout the pages of
historical texts. If he’d been slightly less astute in his
observations, it would still have made some people very
uncomfortable. Unfortunately, he spent the final five chapters
discussing the rise of a political family, who at the time, had not
yet garnered much national attention, but he remained convinced
that this was all about to change.”

West watched
David’s face, wondering if there would be any sign of recognition,
or recollection, but none came. He turned his eyes to Stanwick,
lifting his glass towards her, “You’ve read it?”

“Of course. I
bought four thousand copies in some vague hope that he hadn’t
already drawn too much attention.”

David pulled
his daughter closer, hugging her more for his own comfort than
hers, “What are you saying? Do you mean my Dad’s book was the real
deal? He wasn’t just a conspiracy nut?”

Stanwick
laughed, “Julien Beach was a genius. Or an idiot, I’m still not
really clear on that yet, but either way, yes, his book was, as you
say, the real deal.”

West slumped
into the cushions of a single seated sofa, facing Stanwick. It
occurred to him that he should have spent a lot more time trying to
locate a copy of Julien Beach’s work. He sipped his drink
thoughtfully, staring into Stanwick’s deep turquoise eyes, “Julien
Beach was onto Tiernan?”

“Yes.” Her lips
barely parted, her head tipped forward slightly.

“Prometheus … I
take it you mean that he found someone’s cache of leeches?”

Stanwick shook
her head almost imperceptibly, and her eyes widened, igniting with
excitement, “Our numbers have now been joined by a true third
generations West. Beach found the source.”

Still holding
onto Stephanie, David Beach stood up easily, giving no thought
whatsoever to the fact that this was an achievement in itself. He
walked around the couches and stood in the middle of the living
room, lowering Stephanie to her feet. He spread his arms, sloshing
some of his drink on the hardwood floor in the process, “What the
hell are the two of you even talking about? I mean, what did he
uncover?”

Stephanie slumped
against her dad, a little bleary eyed, but desperate to pay
attention to the adults. She had insisted that David lay his leg up
on the couch so that she could see the bullet hole in his pants,
and now she tugged idly at the frayed cloth, silently marveling at
the fact that her father was alive. If she could have placed her
hand on a pin, she would have jabbed her father’s leg to see if he
could feel it, but she figured that asking for a pin would look
suspicious.

Stanwick sat
cross legged on the floor, gazing idly at Charlene, who sat pressed
up against the cushions at the end of the couch, trying her best to
ignore David’s foot, “How much has West told you?”

Charlene
shrugged, “He rambled off some names while I ate pizza.”

West held up a
hand defensively, “Oh hang on a minute, I went into that situation
fully prepared … I just didn’t get a chance to bust out this bad
boy.” He leaned forward, and pulled his sweater off, allowing it to
drop on the floor beside the couch. There, emblazoned across his
t-shirt, the other’s struggled to read the small white text as West
pulled the material tight:

‘I survived the
collapse of Allim, the Leechborn Wars, the terrors of the
Mythologue, the discovery of the new world, the building of stone
henges, the birthing pains of every major religion, the rise of the
Egyptian empire, the building of the Pyramids, the desertion of
Jericho, the deluge, the burning of Alexandria, the rise and fall
of the Roman empire, the battle of Hastings, the crusades, the
bubonic plague, the Spanish Inquisition, the great fire of London,
the Crimean war, the first and second world wars AND Jojo’s 54oz
steak night challenge, and all I’ve got to show for it is this
stupid t-shirt’

Stanwick blinked,
trying to cleanse her eyes of the experience, but she saw out of
the corner of her eye that Stephanie had sat forwards attentively,
pushing her dad’s leg off the couch. The child raised an
enthusiastic hand, and West nodded towards her, “Questions?”

Stephanie
inhaled, “What are leechboraws?”

West looked
down at his tee-shirt and pulled the material so he could trace the
words with the finger of his free hand, “That’s Leechborn Wars.” He
spoke the words slowly and somewhat condescendingly.

Stephanie
sighed, a little exasperated, “Sorry mister …?”

Stephanie’s
question hung in the air, waiting for West to introduce himself
properly, “Oh, I’m sorry, I’m West Yestler,” he nodded his head
towards Charlene, “and this is my friend Charlene Osterman. You can
call me West.”

Stephanie
patted her knees triumphantly, “West … that’s a funny name. West,
what are Leech born?”

“We are.” West
replied. He watched her face work its way through varying levels of
confusion while he waited patiently for her to ask her next
question.

“You are?” she
asked.

“Yes.”

“She is?”
Stephanie asked, pointing to Stanwick, who nodded, smiling
kindly.

“You are?” She
asked Charlene, who shrugged, glancing at West, “I guess so.”

“And now, your
father is also.” West added, raising his eyebrows slightly.

Stephanie spun
quickly, looking at David, who looked concerned, “I … I’m what
now?” David stuttered into alertness, leaning forwards on the couch
so that he could see past Stephanie.

“Leechborn,
Leechkith, Blood Thief, Ever-Hunger,” West started, but he stopped
when he noticed that Charlene was pointing at him repeatedly, vying
for Stanwick’s attention, “See? Like that,” she called out, “list
of names.”

Stanwick
laughed. She leaned back on her arms, tossing her hair back over
her shoulders, “Stephanie, does that help you at all?”

“Nope.”
Stephanie replied, sitting up straight at the edge of the couch,
folding her arms as an indication of her dissatisfaction, “What’s
Allim?”

West sat back
and poured himself another drink,

“A long time
ago, there was a country called Allim …"

“Is that near
France?” Stephanie asked, hoping that she would be able to forge
some mental connection with the familiar. Stanwick responded
quickly, “It wasn’t too far from the South Pole, but it was pretty
warm back then.” West exchanged glances with Stanwick, nodding a
slow and uncertain affirmation, which convinced no one except
David, who was still trying to digest the word Leechborn.

West continued,
“As far back as our histories record it, Allim was defined by the
walls which surrounded the capital city. Beyond the walls, was the
world which we knew as the Void Garden, and within the walls, the
people of Allim lived peacefully, protected by the watchful gaze of
the ancestors of King Dannum, the country’s founder.”

Stephanie
raised her hand, and waited for West’s patient nod of approval,
“Why did they build walls?”

“The followers
of Dannum built the walls to protect the people of Allim from the
void garden.”

“Near the South
Pole?” Stephanie asked.

West smiled,
narrowing his eyes, “Near it, relatively speaking.” Stephanie
pursed her lips, convinced that West was being evasive, but
choosing to remain silent on the matter. Pick your battles she told
herself, a phrase she had often heard her aunt use when she spoke
to her father.

“So,” West
continued, “Dannum sat, as the self-proclaimed God amongst men,
King of the walled city, the tale of his long life and the future
of Allim laid out in the pages of
The Book of Antrusca.”
He
watched Stephanie shift uncomfortably before explaining, “Antrusca,
daughter of the God King, the founder of the Matriarchal Divinity,
she was for a long time the only person trusted enough by King
Dannum to set forth the histories.”

Stanwick took
off her leather jacket and motioned for Stephanie to come and sit
in front of her. Stephanie grimaced, but when Stanwick smiled and
waved her over a second time, the child pushed herself off the edge
of the couch and shoved with her hands, sliding across the hardwood
floor until she came to a rest, sitting on her haunches, staring
timidly at Stanwick’s smooth skin,

Stanwick took
Stephanie’s hands in her own, stroking the backs with her thumbs,
feeling the child’s tendons budge gently beneath the skin, “When I
was a little girl, I was raised in the houses of the Matriarchal
Divinity, as were all of the daughters of Allim.”

“You were?”

Stanwick
nodded, her turquoise eyes pouring over the details of the child’s
face.

“Every girl was
taken to the houses of the Divinity on the day they were born.”

“No boys
there?” Stephanie asked, thinking that this sounded like a pretty
great idea.

“No, there were
boys too. Boys orphaned by disease, starvation, or dark thoughts
were brought up by the wet nurses and sisters of the Matriarchal
Divinity, and all boys of the agricultural, or tech sectors would
come to the houses of the Divinity for schooling, but they would
return to their parents in the evening.”

Stephanie
looked down at her hands in thought, and when she looked up, she
stared into Stanwick’s eyes, and Stanwick could see that she was on
the verge of tears, “So if I’d been born in Allim, I wouldn’t live
with my dad and Aunt Han?”

“No, you would
have been brought up in a house of a million sisters, each one of
them dear to you. When you reached the age of fourteen, you would
have been sent to live in the Ag, Tech, or Science Sectors.”

Stephanie
inhaled a little raggedly, a single tear spilling from the corner
of her eye, “I don’t want to live in Allim.”

Stanwick
laughed, dropping Stephanie’s hands and hugging her gently, “Nobody
lives in Allim anymore Stephanie, don’t worry.” Stephanie turned
her head, feeling her cheek brush against the silk of Stanwick’s
blouse. She looked at West, and read the words again, ‘I survived
the collapse of Allim,’ and a smile formed on her lips, “When did
Allim collapse?”

“About
thirty-thousand years ago.”

Spoken softly,
Stanwick’s words washed over Stephanie, “but you said you were in
the,” she paused, preparing the words in her head, “Matriarchal
divinity.”

Stanwick ran
her fingers through Stephanie’s hair, “I am Leechborn Stephanie,
hated by Pretchis, the last king of Allim, kissed by the tongues of
Antrusca; the leeches that live within me, ever hungry, thieves of
blood, delvers of the flesh. The leeches are the seeds of the river
Dannum, the river named for Allim’s first king, and I am a child of
the blood of the river Dannum.”

“And now dad is
too?”

“Yes.”

Stephanie
considered the information, spinning the words into webs, trying to
imagine being hated by a king, picturing a wide river overflowing
with leeches. She glanced at the tee-shirt again, but remembered
West’s words before she saw them, “The Leechborn Wars … Is that how
your country ended?”

“The fall of
Allim was caused by someone like your grandfather, a little too
curious, and a little too smart for their own good.”

Stephanie
sighed, “I never met my grandpa.”

“That my dear,
is something even your dad wouldn’t be able to say for sure.”

Stephanie sat
up straight, looking Stanwick in the eye, “What do you mean?”

Stanwick’s eyes
widened, the full turquoise irises showing, “Well, it goes back to
the great secret that he stumbled upon, like West before him.”

David sat to
attention now too, his hands on his knees, “My father died before
Stephanie was even born, what the hell are you talking about?”

Stanwick looked
at West in disbelief, then at Charlene, “You understand don’t
you?”

Charlene
blushed a little, embarrassed at being put on the spot and unsure
if she’d missed something important, “I mean, I get that his dad’s
alive …"

David stood up
abruptly, pacing the floor, “I don’t understand this. I don’t
understand any of this. Will someone please explain what the fuck
is going on?” He looked at Stephanie suddenly, his lips pursed
tightly, but she let him off the hook with an exasperated shrug of
her shoulders, “Dad, the leeches fixed you. The leeches are from
the river of Dannum, and grandpa found them.” She turned to look at
Stanwick, “Right?”