Join the Dance

xvi. Of Graves, of Worms, and Epitaphs

It lay thickly drifted on the crooked crosses and headstones, on the spears of the little gate, on the barren thorns.

- James Joyce, The Dead

The wind forced itself against Kate's face, as if it were actively trying to push her backwards. Go home, go home, it said.

Mrs Torrisi had warned her to go. Rafe wanted her to go. He'd offered her all his money, probably saved up.

But what could she do? Nothing, not until she knew Rafe's secret. And she couldn't know that until they got through these labyrinthian alleyways.

They were following Rafe's invisible path, one that even Abigail couldn't pick out, and she had offered to be the Navigator. "I won't get lost," she'd bragged, "I wouldn'a get lost in a blizzard with my eyes shut!"

Yet here they were. Not quite a blizzard, but Abigail was gripping Kate's fingers tightly. A good thing, too, as Kate could feel she felt warmth emanating through the girl's mittens as if her hand were an open camp-fire and Kate's were a marshmallow. Rafe called this "an emergency misuse of magic" ("don't tell Miss B," he advised). He'd turned on his lighter and held it beneath his other hand, like a candle, and offered the same to the three children. Then they executed a motion which looked like they were praying, pressing their fingers together. This made the heat stay.

Rafe had asked someone to "hold Kate's hand," and Abigail volunteered. He himself had been holding the door to the courtyard open, and Kate tried not to think of it as an excuse.

"We're gonna go a back way," he'd explained as they traipsed out onto the icy ground. "Down Christener's Corner."

The kids were unusually silent, as if dread had stolen their voices.

"That's ghost territory!" whispered Jake.

"Ghosts don't like snow," said Rafe casually. He'd pulled on a pair of extremely ragged gloves. Kate doubted they would fit over his bandages, but he seemed to succeed. "Also, ghosts don't like me."

Abigail snorted. "Pshaw, that makes us feel so much better! Not that I'm scared. I'm not scared."

"Where are the ghosts?" Kate had asked.

All four had looked at her incredulously, the way orphanage children always did when you asked a stupid question like 'where's the bathroom?'

"I, uh... I don't live here," she reminded them.

"Oh yeah!" said Beetles as if enlightened.

"Yeah," said Rafe, more genuinely. "I s'pose the ghosts don't like you neither. But you better stay close." There was a look on his face that reminded Kate of the blanket over her feet.

"Are they really dangerous?" she asked, emphasising the 'real' syllable.

He tilted his head. "Mmm, more or less. I'd say - "

"Really, really dangerous," muttered Beetles, sniffing.

"- 50 percent real."

That wasn't entirely comforting. But Abigail had marched ahead.

"I'm not scared, 'cos I'm the Navigator. I'm goin' first, unlike's you lollygaggers."

The snow hadn't gotten deep yet, but it was enough to make the ground slippery and the air thin. It was strewn with random flakes and balls of sleet that caught on their noses and hair. Kate's long coat billowed behind her like a bird's tail. They headed down narrow paths in a direction so confusing that Abigail's Navigator status was shortly transferred to Rafe. He walked quickly, almost too quickly.