Days of Magic, Nights of War Read online

  She’d walked to the far end of the yard as she planned her evidence collecting, and there, sitting in a rusted garden chair with her back to the house, was her mother.

  “Oh, Mom . . .” Candy said softly.

  Candy half expected Melissa Quackenbush to sense her daughter’s presence and turn and smile at her. But she didn’t move.

  “Mom?” Candy said again.

  She was close enough now to be able to hear her mother’s soft rhythmic breathing. Was she asleep? Moving very cautiously, so as not to wake her, she took a step around the chair. The sight of her mother’s face made Candy want to cry. Melissa looked so weary, so drained. Her eyes were closed, her mouth turned down, her freckled brow marked by a deep frown.

  “Candy?” she murmured in her sleep. “Is that you?”

  Her eyes wandered back and forth beneath her blue-veined lids as though attempting to make sense of some dreamed sight or other. The sorrowful expression on her mother’s face made Candy want to turn away. But when she did so, she found her mother standing just a few yards away from her, in the middle of the unkempt lawn. Con-fused, Candy looked back at the woman sleeping in the rusted chair, and again at her mother’s twin.

  “I don’t get it,” Candy said. “Why are there two of you?”

  “One dreaming, one awake,” Melissa said, as though it was the easiest idea in the world. “I’m over in that chair, dreaming. And I guess you’re somewhere else too, asleep.”

  “So we’re meeting each other in our dreams?” Candy said.

  Melissa nodded. “It’s so good to see you, honey,” she said. “Where have you been? Did you hitchhike somewhere? Did you go to Minneapolis?”

  “No.”

  “Where then? Where are you?”

  “I’m a long, long way from Chickentown, Mom.”

  “Oh, God. Did somebody kidnap you?”

  “No,” Candy said with a grin. “I’ve just been traveling, that’s all.”

  “Well, why didn’t you call me and tell me you were safe?” Melissa replied, her relief souring into anger. “How could you be so selfish? I imagined all kinds of things. And of course your dad was sure you’d gotten into trouble with some boy, or with drugs.”

  “No boy. No drugs.”

  “What then?”

  “Oh, Mom . . . if I told you what’s happened to me . . . I swear, you’d say I was crazy.”

  “I don’t care: I want to know.”

  In her sleeping state, Melissa was becoming agitated. Candy reached down and gently laid a soothing hand on her mother’s shoulder.

  “Mom, I’m sorry,” she said. “I had no way of contacting you.”

  “Don’t be silly. Nobody’s that far away.”

  “I was. I am.”

  “Then tell me,” Melissa said.

  “Tell you what?”

  This time the sleeping Melissa and the waking one spoke together. “Everything!” they said. “Tell me everything!”

  “Huh. Everything. Well, where do I start?” Candy thought about the question for a moment, and then, finally, she said: “Who am I, Mom?”

  “You’re my daughter, of course. You’re Candy Quackenbush.”

  “Where was I born?”

  “You know where you were born. Here in Chickentown.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure.”

  Candy studied Melissa’s face, looking for some sign of doubt. She saw it too, a little flicker in her mother’s eyes.

  “Was there anything strange about the way I came into the world?” Candy said.

  This time Melissa looked away. “I don’t know why you’re asking these silly questions.”

  “I’ll tell you why,” Candy replied, her voice very calm. “Because though we’re dreaming that we’re in the same world, Mom, we’re not. I’m in a place called the Abarat. It’s nowhere on any map that you’ve ever looked at.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “No. It isn’t. It’s the truth. And I think you know it’s the truth.”

  She paused to give her mother an opportunity to contradict this, if she was going to, but she said nothing, so Candy went on.

  “Right now I’m sleeping on an island called Scoriae, at the Hour of Seven in the Evening. Every Hour has its own island here, you see. You can sort of time travel by hopping from island to island. I’m actually in what’s called the Twilight Palace. It was built for a Princess, a long time ago. . . .”

  Melissa still didn’t answer, though she was shaking her head very, very slowly, as if this was all too much to take in. But Candy went on telling her story, watching her mother’s face all the while. “When I first came here, I thought: this is new; this is like nothing I’ve ever seen before. But I was wrong. As the weeks have gone on, more and more I’ve had the feeling that this isn’t the first time I’ve been here.” The doubt in her mother’s face deepened. “I’ve been in the Abarat before, Mom,” Candy said. “I don’t know how that’s possible, but I have.”

  She paused again for a moment, to collect her thoughts, and then she went on.

  “And it seems to me that if I know something about the Abarat, then probably you do too, because you’ve been with me all through my life, right from the very beginning.”

  Again Candy gave her mother a moment to think about this. Then she said: “Do you, Mom? Do you know something?”

  Almost in a whisper, Melissa replied: “Maybe.”

  “Tell me. Please. Whatever it is. Tell me.”

  Melissa took a deep breath. Then, very softly, she said: “The night you were born, it was raining so hard it was like there was going to be a second Flood. I never saw rain like it. But I had to get to the hospital, rain or no rain, because you were suddenly ready to be born, and you weren’t going to be delayed.” She made a little smile. “You were willful, even then,” she said. “So your dad bundled me into the truck and off we went. But once we’re on the highway, guess what? We run out of gas. So your dad set off in this deluge to find a garage, leaving me . . . leaving us . . . in the truck. And the rain kept coming down, drumming on the roof of the truck, and you kept squirming inside me, and just when I thought I was going to have you right there on the front seat, I saw a light—”

  “Dad?”

  “No, it wasn’t your dad. There were three women, out there in the rain. I knew immediately they weren’t from town. The way they looked, for one thing. An old woman, one of them, with long gray hair.”

  “Diamanda . . .” Candy said softly.

  Melissa looked astonished. “You know her?” she said.

  “A little,” Candy said. “Diamanda, Mespa and Joephi. They’re all Sisters of the Fantomaya. That means they’re women who know magic. I don’t mean the Las Vegas kind of magic—”

  “I know what you mean,” Melissa said. “At least I can guess. Oh, Lord, why did I let them come near me? I should have just run.”

  “How could you?”

  “I should have tried. But instead I just sat there. And the door opened, and . . .” She paused, and a sudden anger came into her eyes. “We were going to have a perfectly ordinary life,” she said. “A perfectly happy, easy life, until they came along with their magic.”

  “Tell me the rest, Mom. The door opened, and then what?”

  “The old lady Diamanda had a box, which she was carrying as though whatever was inside was the most precious thing in the world. And when she opened it—” Melissa closed her eyes for a moment, and Candy heard the sound of sobbing. She looked over her shoulder to see that her mom was crying in her sleep, moved to tears by these memories. Candy felt a pang of guilt for what she’d done, dredging up the past this way. But she needed these answers. More than that, she deserved them. She’d had this secret kept from her for too long.

  “Go on,” she gently urged.

  “She opened this box, and there was light inside. Not just a light. Life. Something alive in the light. And whatever it was—this bright thing—it came into me, Candy.
Through my skin, through my eyes, through my breath.”

  “Were you afraid?”

  “Not at the time. At least not for myself. You see, I knew the moment it began to move through my body that it wasn’t me the light and life wanted.” She opened her eyes finally, and mother and daughter looked at each other, dreamer to dreamer. “It was you,” she said. “The light wanted you.”

  Chapter 24

  Husband and Wife

  MELISSA! GET UP! I’M hungry!”

  Candy’s father was standing at the back door, his shirt pulled out of his pants and hanging open, his beer-swollen belly shiny with sweat. He was pointing his finger at Melissa, who was still asleep in the chair. Candy could remember all too easily how it felt to be close to him when he was in a mood like this. The threat of him, the stink of him; the sickness he exuded. How many times, over the years, had he caught her looking at him, caught the contempt in her eyes and beaten her for it?

  But right now his wife was the subject of his rage.

  “Wake up, you lazy cow!” he yelled. “Didn’t you hear me? I’m hungry.”

  “Oh, shut up,” Candy said through gritted teeth. “Don’t wake her up yet. We haven’t finished talking.”

  “Too late,” Melissa murmured to her, her voice growing faint as her husband’s summons stirred her. “He hates seeing me sleep. I guess because he doesn’t sleep well himself.” Her image was flickering now. “He has nightmares.”

  Bill was striding down the garden now, yelling at his wife as he went. “Melissa, damn you, WILL YOU WAKE UP?”

  He raised his fist as he approached. Candy didn’t doubt for a moment what he intended to do —

  “I’m warning you, woman!” he growled.

  Instinctively Candy stepped into his path and raised her arm to block her father’s intended blow. She wasn’t sure what kind of effect she would have, if any. After all, she was only a dreaming presence. But she carried some weight here, even in her present condition. The moment her father’s arm made contact with hers, he let out a shout of shock. He dropped his arm, narrowing his bloodshot eyes.

  “What the hell—?” He waited a moment, then moved toward his sleeping wife again. He was still ready to do harm.

  “No, you don’t,” Candy said. This time she didn’t simply block his blow. She put her hand in the middle of her father’s chest and she pushed. A hard push. Her father stumbled backward, reaching out to catch hold of the chair in which Melissa was still sleeping. But Candy casually knocked his hand away, and down he went, falling heavily. For a few seconds he lay sprawled in the unkempt grass. Then he got to his feet and retreated two or three steps, the fury on his face entirely fled now, replaced by a look of sudden superstition.

  “What’s going on?” he said, half to himself. Then, to Melissa:

  “Open your eyes, woman! Open your damn eyes!”

  Slowly Melissa answered her husband’s summons, and as her eyes flicked open, the image of the dreamer to whom Candy had been speaking went out like a blown candle.

  Melissa shook her head and got to her feet, looking around the yard as though she half expected to still see Candy standing there. What she saw instead was her husband, scanning the yard nervously.

  “Is there something here with us?” he said to her. “Is there?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Something pushed me,” he muttered. Then more loudly: “Something pushed me!”

  It took Melissa only a moment or two to make sense of what he was telling her.

  “Candy . . .” she said softly, looking around as she spoke. “Are you here?”

  “Candy?” Bill said, his hands instinctively closing into fists. “You think she’s here? If she’s here, why the hell can’t I see her?”

  Melissa glanced down at her husband’s white knuckles and tried to put on a smile.

  “It’s all right, Bill,” she murmured.

  “You said: are you here? Why’d you say that? Tell me! And don’t you start lying to me. If there’s one thing that makes me mad, it’s liars.”

  “I was dreaming, that’s all,” Melissa said lightly. “I was dreaming about Candy, and when I woke up I was confused. I thought she was here.”

  “But she’s not?”

  Melissa put on a look of puzzlement. “How could she be?” she replied, daring Bill to put words to his fears. “I mean, look. There’s just you and me.”

  “Yeah . . .”

  “It was just a dream.”

  “Damn girl,” Bill muttered. “We’re better off without her.”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “Don’t tell me what I mean.”

  “I know it was never easy between you two,” Melissa said. “But Bill, she’s still our daughter. Remember how excited we were the night she was born?”

  He grunted.

  “That was quite a night, Bill. Do you remember any of what happened the night Candy was born?”

  “Who cares?”

  “I do.”

  “Well, I don’t.”

  He turned away from his wife and walked off toward the house. Melissa followed him, talking to him as he went, gently reminding him.

  “It rained, Bill. Do you remember how hard it rained? And you left me in the truck—”

  “Oh, now we come to it. Billy-boy forgot to put gas in the truck, so poor Melissa was left in the cold for hours and hours and—”

  “Will you let me finish?”

  “Poor Melissa. Of course she should never have married him in the first place, isn’t that what everybody tells you?”

  “Shut up a minute, will you?”

  He turned on her suddenly, as though he was going to hit her. But he was still nervous after what had happened, and he kept himself from doing it in case he felt another push from that invisible hand.

  “This isn’t about you or me,” Melissa went on. “This is about Candy. I tried so many times to tell you what happened that night, but you would never listen. You thought I was crazy. But what happened that night was real.”

  “And what was that?” he said.

  “Three women appeared. They came from another world, Bill.”

  “Stupid.”

  “Abarat, it’s called.”

  He sneered. “Never heard of it.”

  “Well, it’s where our daughter is right now.”

  “According to who?”

  “According to her, Bill. I saw her in my dream. I talked to her.”

  Bill rolled his eyes.

  “Believe me—”

  “You are crazy, you really are.” He put his finger to his temple. “It’s all in your head.”

  “No.”

  “Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!”

  “Candy even told me the names of these women.”

  “Oh, did she?”

  “Diamanda, Joephi and Mespa. They’re from a sisterhood called the Fantomaya.”

  “You know, you should write all this nonsense down. You could probably sell it.”

  “I’m not inventing it, Bill. Candy’s there, in the Abarat. She’s seen these women. They’re helping her.”

  “All right!” Bill said. “Enough! I don’t want to hear any more of this crap.” His voice filled with genuine revulsion. “You and your stupid women! As if there aren’t enough damn women on the planet.” He turned his back on his wife and headed for the house. But after a few steps he stopped and looked back at her.

  “You know what?” he said. “One of these days I’m just gonna pack my bags and get the hell outta here.”

  “And where would you go?”

  “I got places. I could go to Denver, see my brother. Back to Chicago. Anywhere but here.” He turned from her and went to the back door. “I should have gone a long time ago.”

  And with that he disappeared into the house, leaving Melissa standing in the yard, despairing. She’d tried to get through to him, but he was a wall. What was it going to take for him to believe her?

  She looked up at the sky.
Small fleets of clouds were being driven northeast by the wind.

  “Candy?” she said, hoping her daughter was still within earshot. “If you can hear me, darling, please take good care of yourself. Maybe one of these days we’ll get a chance to see the Abarat together. I miss you, honey.”

  Then she put her sadness away, where Bill wouldn’t be able to see it, and she went inside the house to fix her family some hamburgers for lunch.

  Chapter 25

  Fates

  MALINGO HAD BEEN ON some amazing trips in the weeks since he’d escaped his servitude, but none was as breath-snatching as the journey he took over the crowded boardwalks of Babilonium. The blue fabric that had snatched him up didn’t seem to have much substance to speak of: it was a robe without a visible body to occupy it. But the woman who possessed it spoke to him clearly enough, and did her best to reassure him.

  “Just keep calm,” she said. “I don’t want to drop you on these poor people’s heads. They came here for some fun, not to be brained by a geshrat.”

  Malingo looked down through the folds of fabric. They were now a long way off the ground and moving at considerable speed. If he were to fall, he thought, it wouldn’t be the folks below who would suffer most; it would be he.

  “Who are you?” he said.

  “Later.”

  “I just need to know: did Wolfswinkel send you? Are you taking me back to Ninnyhammer?”

  “No, no, no. Perish the thought.”

  “Only he used to beat me for the pleasure of it.”

  “Oh, I’ve heard about the cruelties of Kaspar Wolfswinkel,” the woman in the cloth said. “And he’ll pay dearly for them, by and by. You be comforted, my friend. All hurt is repaid in the great round. Trust me.”