Alex Bell - Jasmyn

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Table of Contents

Also by Alex Bell

The Ninth Circle

Jasmyn

ALEX BELL

Orion

www.orionbooks.co.uk

For Shirley Bell - my Mum, my best friend, my role model, my Wizard of Oz - and the lady who has inspired me more than any other person on this earth.

You have never heard a story quite like this one. I can hear you protesting already but, the fact is, it doesnt matter how old you are, how many books youve read, how many things youve seen ... this story will be new to you. Maybe it will even haunt you a little. Because what happened to me ... well, I dont think its ever happened before ...

Have you ever read a dark fairy tale that, for some reason, niggled at you afterwards? A story that was quite clearly made up but which, nonetheless, contained some tiny grain of truth that prickled at you uncomfortably like the pea beneath the princesss mattress? Fairy tales are fluid things, changing and adapting all the time, but theyre also based upon events that really did, at some point - in some form - actually happen.

This story is like that. It has the ribbons and the glitter and the magic. But it also has the blood and the sacrifice and the twisting evil - for this is a real fairy tale, not the sugar-coated imitation. It is a story of love, loss, illusion, castles, hatred, seduction, ice palaces, adventure and knights.

Dont start this book unless you mean to finish it.

Dead Swans

Things started to happen after Liam died ... strange things that I could not explain and did not understand. As if trying to work out how to live without him wasnt difficult enough on its own. The incident at the funeral was only the start, which is ironic when you consider that I stood there thinking it was the end. I thought it was the last difficult thing I had to do before I could concentrate on nothing but grieving and hurting and coping.

When the time came, I couldnt imagine Liam inside the coffin. The very idea that he was sealed inside that wooden box seemed laughable to me and, indeed, for some moments I was afraid that I really was going to burst into shrill, hysterical laughter. It bubbled up in my chest, but I thrust it back down and in another moment the urge to laugh was completely gone as a fresh wave of sadness swept over me. This was so unfair. I shouldnt be here doing this right now. I shouldnt have to do this for years and years.

For the first time in my life, I longed for old age. In fact I yearned for it. I wanted to put as much time as possible between myself and this present moment of raw, undiluted pain. No one Id loved had ever died before. Id only known two of my grandparents and they were both still alive so Id never even seen a funeral before, except on TV.

I met Liams parents outside the church. At first I thought Ben wasnt there and anger flared inside me. Liam had fallen out with his older brother about ten months ago, just before we were married, and they hadnt seen much of each other since then. They were complete opposites in personality. Where Liam had been outgoing, Ben was introverted; where Liam had been popular and well-liked, Ben was solitary and antisocial; where Liam had always been a chatterbox, Ben used words sparingly if he used them at all.

His parents had told me earlier in the week that Ben was abroad, working in Germany, and they werent sure if he was going to come back for the funeral or not. I could hardly believe it. I knew the two of them had not been on the best of terms recently but the idea that Ben wouldnt bother to attend his brothers funeral disgusted me.

But then I saw him standing a little apart from his parents outside the church and an overwhelming flood of emotion swept over me. For whilst he may have been Liams opposite in character, he was remarkably similar to him in looks. Just two years older, he was of a similar height and build with the same chestnut-brown hair. The only obvious difference between them was that Bens hair was cut slightly shorter and he had brown eyes instead of green. I hadnt seen him for ten months or so and Id forgotten just how similar they looked. Even some of their mannerisms were the same. It could almost have been Liam standing there and a lump rose in my throat at the sight of him.

He looked more angry than sad - grinding his jaw as if he was going to file right through his teeth, his eyes dark and bitter. He saw me then and walked over to us. Hello, Jasmyn, he said quietly, holding out his hand to shake mine.

A half-sob rose in my throat and I flung my arms around his neck. He looked so much like Liam that I just wanted to cling to him and never let him go. He recoiled a little at my touch and I felt him stiffen. If hed tried to push me away I think I would have redoubled my grip like some kind of limpet, holding on for dear life because he made me feel closer to my husband than I had done since the evening he died. But in the end, Ben did the sensible thing and patted my back awkwardly until I released him, horribly aware that Id made a mess of his black jacket.

We walked into the church and took our places on the front pew reserved for close family. Being an albino, I looked awful in black - it made my white hair and skin look even whiter and my pale-blue eyes even stranger, especially as I was only twenty-seven years old.

The vicar had asked me if I wanted to speak during the service but the very idea had horrified me for I knew I couldnt do it. I wanted to. I just couldnt. So in a fit of madness, Id said I would play something instead. Wed been asked to pick out one of Liams favourite songs for the service and that, at least, was easy for I knew he had always loved Bridge over Troubled Water. But rather than bringing a CD, I was going to play the song myself on my violin. I wanted to contribute to the service even if I couldnt speak and - this will sound odd if youre not a musician - but I needed an excuse to bring my violin with me. I felt somehow that the whole thing would be easier to bear with the reassuring feel of the familiar instrument on my lap.

I kept myself under control in the church until the first hymn but after that it was quite hopeless. Music has a way of amplifying my emotions. It makes me happier when Im happy but it unravels me altogether when Im sad. Throughout the service I desperately willed my hands to stop shaking and the tears to stop pouring down my cheeks. I couldnt play the violin like this and I had to play it - otherwise I would regret my weakness for the rest of my life.

My lovely electric violin lay on my lap and as I stared down at it I couldnt help remembering how I had got it. Id wanted one for some time but they were all too expensive. And then, one October, Liam had gone out and bought me one. It was meant to be a Christmas present but he was so excited about it that he couldnt wait to give it to me. So one Saturday afternoon I was surprised by his particular insistence that I play Bridge over Troubled Water for him.

Im in the middle of an exciting bit, I said, keeping my eyes on the novel I was reading on the couch. Ill play it for you later.

Play it for me now, Jaz, Liam insisted, pulling the book out of my hands.

Hey! I said, sitting up and trying to snatch it back. But Liam held it above his head out of my reach.

Im your fianc, he said with a grin, and Im commanding you to play for me now, not later.

I sighed and rolled my eyes as I got off the couch but really I liked the fact that he enjoyed my music. I liked him taking pride in my one talent and that he was interested enough in it to have special requests whenever I played for him.

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