Above the Vaulted Sky - Page 83

                We arrive in the hayfield to the sound of a bird squawking. I look to my left and a black raven sits on a haystack. It gazes at Graham who takes a step and holds his head.

                ‘That place gives me a headache,’ he says. ‘So what are we going to do about Teague?’

                He looks around and notices he can’t see us again.

                ‘What are we going to do about him?’ I ask Elle. ‘I assumed that if we did what he asked he’d stabalise in one form or another, but he disappeared?’

                ‘Hopefully this Thacker book will give us a clue,’ she replies. ‘Here, tell Graham, as much as I enjoy watching his confused face.’

                She hands me the notebook again. I quickly explain to Graham and hand him the note, telling him to go towards the house and wait for us or Yates to open the door.

                We traverse the hayfield quickly. Part of me looks forward to seeing Yates again. Part of me hopes that he’s not even there. That he might be off adventuring somewhere, meeting people, building some sort of life for himself.

                An unexplained tightness grips my stomach as we reach the door. I knock three times then stand back and wait. All we can hear is the raven, still squawking back in the field.

                ‘Maybe he’s out?’ Elle says. ‘And I thought we were going to a museum, not his house?’

                I can’t explain myself why I felt drawn here, not the museum. I still feel bad for almost getting Yates lost in my memories. I guess I just want to make sure he’s alright before I go searching for books and disappearing men.

                I rap sharply on the door again.

                ‘That’s very eerie you know,’ says Graham, watching the door that knocks itself.

                ‘Come on,’ I say. I realise I still haven’t answered Elle’s question. I grasp the handle and push. The door’s unlocked, of course it is. The man who sits in his house with the lights on, spurning company but attracting it all the same would naturally leave his door unlocked.

                We walk inside. The books are still stacked to the ceiling, but I expect nothing less.

                ‘Wow,’ Elle and Graham say in unison.

                ‘Yates!’ I call.

                There’s no reply. He must be out. I relax a little, walking further into the house. Something keeps me going. My conscience tells me to leave. It’s not my house, we should go. But still I walk forward. I think a part of me already knows.