Pan's Labyrinth: The Labyrinth of the Faun(29)

First those eyes found the Fairies.

And then Ofelia.

Who still didn’t notice what she had done.

Oh, how the Fairies were screaming now. But their voices were barely louder than the chirping of crickets and Ofelia bit into another grape while the Pale Man came closer, his skin hanging from his bony limbs like clothes sewn from flesh. The Fairies swarmed around the Child Eater’s terrible head, desperate to distract him from the girl. Their fear made their voices so shrill they finally pierced through the enchantment.

Ofelia turned, but it was too late. The Child Eater was grasping for the Fairies with his bloodstained fingers. First, they managed to escape, but the Pale Man was an experienced hunter. The two he caught fought desperately for their lives, but their captor wouldn’t let go and Ofelia had to watch the monster stuff the first Fairy between his toothless gums. He tore off her head as effortlessly as plucking a flower from its stem, her blood running down his pale chin. The second Fairy, struggling helplessly against his cruel grip, met the same fate as her sister, her wings and limbs crushed between the colorless lips. The Pale Man was licking her blood off his fingers when Ofelia finally managed to make her feet move.

She ran out into the corridor but soon heard the Pale Man’s unsteady steps behind her. When she looked back, she saw his terrible figure between the columns, his eyes darting restlessly in his raised hands. Run! Ofelia told her feet. Run! But her knees were trembling and she slipped and fell onto the checkered floor.

The last Fairy, the one who had survived, fluttered to Ofelia’s side. Your sisters are dead because of me! Ofelia thought, stumbling on. No. She couldn’t think about that now. She still couldn’t see the end of the corridor and up in the attic room the sand was running through the Faun’s hourglass.

Maybe it was good Ofelia couldn’t see how little sand was left. Her heart was racing when she reached the last bend in the corridor. There was the chair and above it the door the chalk had cut.

But the Fairy heard the sand running.

Ofelia was just two steps away from the chair when the door above it slowly began to close.

“No!” Ofelia screamed. “No!”

Gasping, she scrambled onto the chair, but when she reached up, the door was gone and it wouldn’t come back, although she beat her fists against the wall. What made her feverish mind remember the chalk? Maybe the Fairy reminded her with a whisper?

Ofelia searched the Faun’s satchel.

Nothing.

Searching her coat pocket, she was more successful.

The Pale Man’s steps echoed louder and louder through the corridor, and Ofelia’s fingers were so tense with fear she broke the chalk in two. She could barely keep a grip on the small piece left in her hand.

Behind her the Pale Man stepped around the corner. He lifted his right hand to stare at Ofelia. There she was. Oh, he loved when they tried to escape. It was as much about the hunt as it was about the kill.

The Fairy twittered in terror, but she didn’t leave Ofelia’s side when Ofelia climbed onto the back of the chair to reach the ceiling.

Closer. The Pale Man staggered closer and closer, stalking on his skeleton legs, his eyes glinting in his palms.

Ofelia finally managed to draw a square onto the mosaics covering the ceiling. She pushed against the door with all the strength she had left and finally the chalk outline gave way, but when Ofelia pulled herself up, hoping this door would also lead back to her room, her feet lost hold of the chair. The Fairy flitted past her as Ofelia struggled to drag her body up and away from the terrible hands. The Pale Man’s fingernails brushed her legs, but as he used his hands to catch Ofelia he was blind and she finally managed to drag herself onto the dusty floor of the attic room. She pushed the trapdoor the chalk had cut back into place until only a fine line of light gave away the opening that had saved her.

Ofelia got to her feet.

A groan echoed through the floor, the moaning of a hungry bloodstained mouth, and when she stepped back, she felt the Pale Man pushing against the floorboards. The worst fears are always underneath us, hidden, shaking the ground we wish to be firm and safe.

Trembling, Ofelia sat down on her bed to get her feet off the floor, and listened. When the Fairy landed on her shoulder, the warmth of her small body was both comfort and accusation. After all, Ofelia’s failings had killed her sisters.

A last brutal blow came from below.

And then . . . finally . . . silence.





21


No Choice


The day had barely broken when Pedro brought Mercedes and Dr. Ferreira back to the clearing near the brook where he’d picked them up. He was all confidence with the morning light on his face and the air fresh with the promise of new beginnings.

“We’ll soon have reinforcements from Jaca! Fifty men or more.” There was neither doubt nor fear in his voice, despite the despair they’d all seen last night on Frenchie’s face. “As soon as they arrive, we’ll go head-to-head with Vidal.”

Ferreira had seen this before: the enthusiasm a new day could bring after even the darkest night. Sometimes it was strong enough to last, but most times it died by dusk. Ferreira himself had not yet recovered from taking Frenchie’s leg. All that pain, the despair of the wounded man and his comrades, his own helplessness . . .

“Head-to-head and then what?” he couldn’t help asking. “You’ll kill Vidal and they’ll send another just like him. And another after that . . .”