The Annals of Fear

Century awoke with a hacking, choking cough that made Matt hurriedly stub out his cigarette. Deontic put down her notebook and lifted the cannister of oxygen, but the teenager was recovering. He peered blearily up from the mattress into Mello\'s appraising gaze. "Bore da." Mello attempted a smile. "How are you feeling?"



"Like shit." Century tried to sit, but Mello laid a hand on his chest to keep him down. Century didn\'t even have the energy for an adequate glare. "What\'s happening?"



"You fell asleep, so we thought it best to let you stay asleep." Mello commented wearily, as Matt stepped across the mattress with a glass. Mello nodded towards it. "Sip some of that. It\'s just water."



Century did as he was told. A few feet away, Deontic glanced at the window. "It\'s finally getting light." She observed. "The sky has gone very pinkish over the top of the mountain."



Mello nodded, "About bloody time."



"Has she gone?" Century asked, peering owlishly over the top of the glass that Matt was holding for him. His complexion in the half-light did not look good. Always pale, he now looked grey with a top lip the colour of a bruise. "Did she say any name?"



Deontic replied flatly, "No, she\'s still here. She\'s quietened down, but just when we think she\'s gone, she starts up again."



"Has she said my name?" Century repeated, urgently. Matt reached for the oxygen and Deontic handed it to him. He pressed it over Century\'s mouth.



"She mostly just wails and scratches at the doors and windows. Occasionally you hear her wings. That scream." Deontic\'s report petered out. She yawned loudly, though her hand daintily sought to cover it. "You made it through the night."



"That doesn\'t matter." Century blinked, removing the cannister. "Why should the dawn make any difference?" His hand was pressed over his heart. His lips moved as he counted the rhythm of its beating. "Who\'s fucking name has she said?"



Mello shifted slightly, better to face him. "Why should she be saying a name?"



"That\'s what she does. She comes to those about to die and she says their name." Century turned on the mattress and curled up. "But it doesn\'t matter. She only comes for the Welsh." He pulled his knees up tightly against his chest, like he could ward off another heart attack with the protection of them. "And she doesn\'t just come to scare people. If she comes, then someone will die. There are no ifs or buts or last minute dramatic rescues. One of us is going to die and it\'s going to be the Welsh person. Dwi\'n marw."



Matt shook his head. "You\'re not going to die. We\'ve been monitoring you all night. You\'re young and strong. You are going to survive this."



"This isn\'t about medicine!" Century spat, his eyes filling with desperate tears. "It\'s about Gwrach-y-Rhibyn! It\'s the Celtic Mysteries"



They fell silent. Each feeling too exhausted and out of their depth to argue with him. Mello resigned himself to a soothing hand on Century\'s arm and a tired retort, "The Celtic Mysteries never went up against the Slavonic Pissed Off Bastard before. You\'re going to live, Iestyn Jones, if it kills me."



Century wailed into the pillow. "You don\'t understand!"



Mello took a bite of his chocolate. "We made it to the dawn. That counts for something."



"It counts for a meteorological state, that\'s all!"



Matt sighed. "Century, you have got to calm down." He rose up onto his knees. "You are getting stressed out and this isn\'t going to do your..."



"Cer i grafi." The teenager hissed, the tone making it quite clear that this was an expletive.



Mello glared, "You do not talk to him like that, ok?"



Deontic raised her hand, "Stop!" The hand clenched into a fist, but it was born of frustration not threat. She finished, weakly, "Please."



Mello gestured surrender and returned to his own notebook. The page was filled with words encircled and linked together with lines. He sucked on squares of chocolate as he added more. Deontic acknowledged the renewal of peace with a small nod and bent over her own pad. Dyadic deontic truth values were neatly listed one under the other. Only Matt fidgetted, moving from fire to mattress to close by the window, unable to settle without a game in his hand. Century merely lay there, in a foetal ball, trembling and staring into space. Eventually Century asked, "The thing she said, was it \'fy mrawd\'?" Mello shook his head. Century tried again. "Ti ffrind?"



Matt whispered. "The first word sounds right. The second was more like \'hugger\'."



"There is no Welsh word that sounds like hugger!" Century gasped. He lay there and a stillness fell over his features. His body did not relax, but his face became less tense. It was the blankness known to all Wammy alumni. He was sinking into himself. So bereft of hope, that emotion was becoming buried. Matt and Deontic knew it particularly well. They had all worn it for years after Mello and Near had left the institution, in the sure knowledge that they would all end up on the front line against Kira eventually.



Mello watched Century out of the corner of his eye; then carefully took the chocolate from his mouth and laid down his pad. "So this is the great Welsh soul." Mello huffed. "This is the legacy of Owain Glyndŵr for all his fancy parliament buildings up, wherever it was that we met you." He saw Century bury his head in the pillow. Mello nodded, then his voice rose, fierce and strong. His hand up and whole body posturing. "Do not go gentle into that good night!" He struggled to his feet, making a performance of the verse. "Old age should burn and rave at the close of day; rage, rage against the dying of the light!" He caught Matt\'s smile and Deontic\'s bewildered blinking. Mello strode forward, a gloved fingertip beneath Matt\'s chin. "Though wise men at their end know dark is right, because their words had forked no lightning, they do not go gentle into that good night." Matt\'s grin broadened and he mouthed, out of sight of Century, \'clever man\'. Mello span around, pointing the same finger at Century, who had emerged from the pillow. "Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light." Mello had landed on his knees beside Century, his gaze piercing into the Welshman. He grinned. "Or is that just for the South Welsh? The North not being quite so passionate."



Century stared, his lips forming around the word, \'what?\' But he whispered, "You memorised Dylan Thomas."



"I memorised a lot of poems." Mello winked. "And Shakespeare." He was up again, arm in the air like a ham actor strutting upon a stage. "\'For I am Welsh, you know, good countryman.\'" Above the house the Gwrach-y-Rhibyn screamed again and Century flinched. Mello stared at him. "\'All the water in the Wye cannot wash your majesty\'s Welsh blood out of your body. I can tell you that: God bless it and preserve it.\'"



Century shook his head in disbelief. "I never thought I\'d hear you coming out with this." He swallowed, reaching again for the water that Matt rushed to provide. Century glanced at Mello and ventured, "\'Thanks, good my countryman.\'"



Mello was equal to the quotation. "\'By Jesus, I am your majesty\'s countryman, I care not who know it. I will confess it to all the world.\'" He laughed. "Incidentally, I did do \'Henry V\' at GCSE. I can do the whole Agincourt speech, if you want it." He swayed suddenly and had to sit down. Matt\'s gaze dipped to Mello\'s chest wound and then back up to his face. Mello reached for his chocolate and it was handed to him. "Don\'t worry, guapo. I\'m alright and so is Century. He\'s learning that he doesn\'t need Fenian here to recall that warrior spirit. We\'re all Celts today."



Century settled back down, staring at the ceiling. "That may be, but as far as Gwrach-y-Rhibyn is concerned, the only Welshman here is me."



"Mmm." Mello gave a half-shrug. "Try telling that to all of the poor sods who got topped after hearing her on the record, because my death toll list covers the world."



"So do the Welsh. The English saw to that."



Deontic sighed, "Is this helping?" She gripped her pad. "I\'m ready to share my thoughts now. Are you, Mello? Matt?"



Matt cast an urgent look at Century. Deontic looked pained. The catchphrase right now was Don\'t Worry Century. She looked trapped, but she was trapped. How could they get themselves out when they couldn\'t even discuss it? Mello yawned. He growled from the mattress. "To be honest, I need to crash for half an hour. I\'m exhausted."



"With her flying above?" Deontic asked, desperation in her tone.



Mello nodded mutely. He too was pale with bags around his eyes, as deep as any that had lined L\'s. He lay down properly, next to Century, and reached for Matt to lie on his other side. Matt hesitated, but Mello\'s gaze was piercing. They both doubted that they would actually sleep, but blood had seeped through the third covering over Mello\'s chest. He hadn\'t said much about it, but the pain was there, in the set of his mouth. Matt lay down. He had to shift, as Mello snaked an arm under him, then held him close. Matt watched him carefully. "Are you alright, Mello?"



"Fine, guapo." Mello forced a smile. "We\'re fine and we\'re going to carry on being fine."



Century asked softly, "Did Mr Roberts not come? With all that racket, you think that he would have."



"I don\'t think that Mr Roberts is our friend anymore." Mello grimaced, thinking back to the barracks and the interrogation of the caretaker. He kissed Matt tenderly, just long enough to feel the connection.



"Why?"



Deontic stared out of the window. "He helped us with our inquiries."



Century\'s face crumpled again. He just nodded. "Can I just say something?" He had to swallow a few times over the lump in his throat. "I want to be buried in Gwynedd. I don\'t want to just disappear like Wammy\'s kids generally do."



"You want to go home." Mello nodded. "But not just yet. You\'re raging against the dying of the light, remember?" His hand found Century\'s and gripped it. Remarkably, the teenager did not pull his own hand away. Mello glanced at him in surprise and squeezed the hand held in his. "You\'re going to be alright, Century, just keep calm."



"I was writing my book."



"Then you\'ll just have to finish it when you get back." Mello reassured him. "What are you writing about?"



"I\'ve been looking at the Annales Cambriae and..." Century got no further before a loud batting at the window caused Deontic to stumble backwards, falling upon them. They couldn\'t see Gwrach-y-Rhibyn in the dawn light, but they could hear her so loudly. She was literally a pane of glass away from them. Deontic rolled off Mello and Century, but remained behind Matt. They all stared in horror at the window. It sounded like it might smash at any moment. "Helpu fi, Elen Llwyddog. Helpu fi, Elen Llwyddog."



"0 moj Isuse, oprosti nam naše grijehe, očuvaj nas..."



"Oh no! Oh no! Oh no!"



"Volim te, Mihael Keehl. Siempre."