Authors: Eden Maguire
Twisted Heart (36 page)
‘It wasn’t the wolves I was worried about.’ More Channing and the rest – Spider Rock, the ceremony, the edge of darkness.
‘Don’t let’s go there,’ Holly sighed. She’d flicked the switch, come out of the New Dawn trance and definitely didn’t want to revisit. Except there was one thing she wanted me to clear up for her. ‘So anyway, Tania, was I right?’
Now I knew that she was back with us, working on her surge power. I smiled as I sat on the edge of her bed. ‘About what?’
‘About Conner, of course.’
‘What about Conner?’
‘They killed him, didn’t they? Come on, admit it – I was right!’
‘I wish it was summer,’ Orlando told me as we sat on the bench in the snow. The sky was blue, the temperature was minus four. Tomorrow Ryan and Natalie would drive him home to Dallas.
‘Why is that?’ We held hands, fingers intertwined, my head on his shoulder, gazing out towards Carlsbad.
‘Summer is our best time – long, lazy days, no pressure, midnight swimming.’
‘Yeah, give me a piece of that.’ It was the same for him as it was for me – that first precious memory of diving into the cold, clear water in the moonlight.
‘College is over, I’m back here in Bitterroot; we’re together.’
‘It’ll happen,’ I promised.
Tomorrow I would stand in the drive and watch him leave. Today, right here, right now, my head rested against him, my hand was in his.
‘I wonder what happened to Jarrold,’ he murmured.
‘The water rose; he got swept away with the others.’
‘We don’t know that for sure.’ Gently Orlando kissed the top of my head. ‘You don’t mind me talking about this?’
‘Jarrold’s gone,’ I insisted. Until the next time, the next place when someone like Jarrold, but not Jarrold, would rise again. Right now I didn’t want even to think about it. I wanted to feel the wintry sun on my face, to breathe in and out in time with the guy I loved.
‘What he said – about you weakening and going over to him, leaving me …’
‘It wasn’t true,’ I said quickly, and I squeezed his hand. ‘Forget him. He’s nothing now.’
All night I lay in Orlando’s arms, my dreamcatcher swaying above our heads. I slept soundly and woke early as the sun filtered through the blind.
He was still asleep. In and out, in and out, his chest rose and fell. Soon I would wake him but not yet.
‘I know you have to leave,’ I whispered as he slept. ‘Drive away but leave the precious part of you behind – your love, your steadfast, beautiful self. Go and stay.’
Tania’s story concludes in
BROKEN DREAM
coming soon
…
S
tarry, starry night. I’m with Orlando in New York.
Repeat slowly – I’m with Orlando. We’re together again after two months apart.
The picture we’re staring at shows a whirling, swirling, magical night sky. The midnight blue is like nothing you’ve ever seen, the stars are crazy, the painter is Vincent Van Gogh.
New York in December. Two days ago Orlando flew into Bitterroot from Dallas and from there we took a plane to JFK. We gave ourselves five beautiful days to explore the city – time for me to attend a three-day film workshop and for us both to Christmas shop until we drop, watch movies and walk, walk, walk these bright, buzzing city streets.
Fourteen days before Christmas and outside the gallery it’s snowing.
Earlier today the flakes froze on my eyelashes.
‘How did Vinnie V do that?’ Orlando murmured. The colour, the texture, the light.
Especially the light. I agreed that this painting was awesome beyond words.
We weren’t alone in MoMA, obviously. Everyone who visits what must be the world’s biggest collection of modern art wants to stand in line to see Starry Night, buy the postcard and go home to tell their friends. But the painting lifts you out of reality – the shuffling crowds, the air con and the uniformed security guards. You’re in a dream, it really feels like it’s just you and Vincent’s stars.
‘Let’s go.’ In the end Orlando had to take me by the arm and steer me away.
‘Aww!’ I sighed.
‘I know, but it’s time for lunch. We need to eat.’ He led me through the museum. I floated past magenta, cobalt blue and chrome yellow paint dribbled, splashed and thrown on to white surfaces, plus multi-million dollar contemporary canvases that were pierced, slashed, scrunched up and scrawled on. I didn’t care about any of them, only Vincent.
‘Wow!’ Orlando kept hold of my hand until we reached the exit.
‘I know.’
Starry skies, midnight swimming in Turner Lake – that was how he and I first came together, in the mountains near our home. It was when he first told me he loved me and wanted to be with me always – under the stars in the cold, clear water. And now here we were in the heart of Manhattan, in a totally loved-up dream.
Where do the ideas for your books come from?
My ideas come from a mysterious region of the brain – the ‘What if ’ part which must have a neurological label, but which works something like this: ‘What if the world really is split between supernatural good and bad forces? What if we can all be tempted on to the side of shape-shifting, terrifying dark angels to fight against the angels of light?’ With this basic idea, I can create a setting, a heroine and a whole cast of characters, plus a plot so full of twists and turns that even I don’t know how it will end until I get there.
Who would your dream cast be if
Dark Angel
was made into a film?
Actors in a film of
Dark Angel
? Most of the ones I can think of are a few years too old (sorry!), but how about Natalie Portman for Tania (she’s the right physical style and can play sensitive, tormented souls) and Robert Pattinson for Orlando (dream on!).
What have you enjoyed writing the most –
Dark Angel
or the
Beautiful Dead
?
The answer to which of my books I enjoy the most is always, ‘The one I’m writing now.’ So it has to be
Twisted Heart
(more on that later).
Who do you relate to more – Darina from the
Beautiful Dead
or Tania in
Dark Angel
?
I think Darina has more of the rebel in her – something I can relate to from my own teen years. I don’t have Tania’s psychic powers, but do share some of her thin-skinned sensitivity.
If you could invite five people to dinner who would they be?
Top of my list for ideal dinner guests are: Marilyn Monroe, Shakespeare, Catherine Earnshaw from
Wuthering Heights
, John Lennon and Atticus Finch from
To Kill A Mocking Bird
.
Where is your favourite place to write?
I can only write in one place and no other – it’s my first storey office overlooking a river and a wooded hillside. No other room will do.
Who is your favourite author and why?
Favourite author is so hard – this time I’ll choose one who is alive – it’s Annie Proulx who wrote the short story
Brokeback Mountain
which they turned into a great film. Everything she writes is strong and disturbing.
What advice would you give to aspiring young writers?
People who really want to write don’t need my advice. They’re driven by some inner compulsion. It turns out right if they stick to the truth of their imaginations.
What book do you wish you had written?
A book I totally admire is
The Kite Runner
by Khaled Hosseini. I wish I could write something so moving and powerful and true.
How does it feel when you see your books in a bookshop?
When I see my own book on a bookshop shelf I have a mixed reaction. There’s a big temptation to position it so that customers can see it more easily, but there’s also an unexpected panic and a need to run and hide!
Tell us one thing your readers won’t already know about you.
I once fell off a horse high on a mountain with no other riders around. My horse didn’t run off – he stayed and waited for me to get back on my feet, thank heavens. Not many people know that!
