25   saint mercy (i)

The cloud of Gansey's horrid mood hangs over the morning inside Monmouth Manufacturing. It's an insistent storm, tumbling and bumbling over the top of his curly brown head as he adjusts his glasses and slips into the space next to Mercy at the kitchen counter. The key to Gansey's fleeting moods is just to weather them like a storm. Feel the breeze and let them pass. Wordlessly, Mercy passes Ronan the milk as he shakes rainbow, sugary cereal into a bowl before pouring in the milk and shoving it into Gansey's hands. She blows her nose in her tissue and throws it at Ronan. He scowls, dumping it in the bin.

Lifting her legs allows Gansey to reach into the cutlery drawer underneath her and pull out a spoon, Mercy wrinkles her nose. He takes out a second spoon, and a third. Mercy takes the first one and dips into the bowl of cereal, grinning as the sweetness floods her taste buds and the crunch of goodness sounds with each bite.

Still without talking, they finish the bowl of cereal, each teenager taking their spoon to the sink. Gansey puts his in the dishwasher. Mercy rinses her spoon and leaves it in the sink. Ronan throws his spoon on the bench. It's a quiet but succinct affair, moving around each other with ease.

As Mercy's eyes track Gansey and Ronan through the kitchen, she realises something:

She's never felt this relaxed before.

Mercy shakes out her curls, pulling Gansey's wrist towards her to check the time.

          "It's time to go." She says.

Gansey's tasked with ushering the muttering old man into the outside world. Mercy is tasked with the arguably harder ushering of the Lynch brother. She kicks at his heels. Wordlessly, Ronan takes the cereal box off the kitchen counter as they exit, shooting her a look of contempt. Mercy locks the door behind them. One after the other, Gansey and Ronan crawl into the soulless Suburban. Malory joins them, taking up the majority of the room in the back seat.

Red hair, unruly and shirt untucked, Mercy yawns. She's never been a day person, far more adept to the moon than the sun. Aware of the fact that Blue will be taking up the last real seat with Gansey and Ronan, she tips her head in her truck's direction. Gansey nods. He taps the roof of his car before slowly pulling out, leaving enough time for Mercy to fold herself into her truck and take off after them.

Mercy has no reaction as a shadowed figure warps her passenger seat, remaining hopeful that it might be Noah rather than the alternative.

          "Hello, Saint Mercy." Their voices purrs.

Ignoring the crawling of her skin, Mercy reaches for the familiar volume knob of her stereo and turns it as loud as her ears will let her.

For once, Berlin gets the message.

Mercy's truck door makes a whining sound as she slams it closed and her boots hit the ground of the farm. Barely any words have been spoken upon their arrival. Unceremoniously, she begins to tuck her Dad's old collared shirt into her jeans in a naïve attempt to keep as much cave dirt off it as possible.

Malory breaks the silence. "It might as well be Wales out there with all this rain."

Adam reminds a silent figure beside him. Mercy tugs on the gear in his hands, he shoots her a look and she shrugs. They watch Malory, the Dog and Jesse settle into the farmhouse, filling the silence with their bickering.

Chainsaw caws.

          "Are you really bringing that bird into a cave?" Adam asks.

          "Yes, Parrish." Ronan replies without a beat. "I believe I am."

The teenagers trek begins across a field, pulling on their caving gear in the rain. Mercy simmers in the rain and in the bad mood that seems to hang over the group as they walk. The mud squelches underneath her boots. She wrinkles her nose in disgust, shaking excess mud off her left shoe. It slaps against Ronan's jeans. Mercy quickly puts her foot down, looking anywhere but Ronan as he turns to look behind him. As Ronan refocuses in front of him, Chainsaw watches Mercy with an unwavering gaze for the rest of the walk.

At the mouth of the cave, the group double and triple checks their flashlights and the rest of their equipment. Mercy studies the group carefully, placing a hand on her chest where it begins to ache underneath the metal of her locket. It begins to burn like coals underneath a fire, slow and hot.

The descent begins like a crawl. Mercy's walking at the back of the line, enjoying the view of everyone's heads bobbing up and down as they hit drops and rocks. The dirt walls press close against her fingers as she trails them against the cave's walls. Looking around, the truth of the cave makes Mercy feel more like Alice in Wonderland than a guardian of the line. She purses her lips.

               "Stop it, Lynch." Adam says. He's right in front of Mercy, behind Ronan.

          "Stop what?"

          "Oh, come on."

Mercy peaks around Adam. She can't see Ronan doing anything. He says nothing.

          "Ronan, come on!"

They come to a halt, Mercy nearly tripping on the back of Adam's shoes. She uses the walls to hold herself steady, the dirt crumbling underneath her touch. Mercy can't see Chainsaw but feels her wings brush against her hair as the bird flies to rest on Ronan's shoulder.

          "What?" Ronan demands.

          "Singing." Adam says.

          "Huh," Mercy's expression shifts into confusion but Adam and Ronan aren't paying attention to her.

          "I'm not doing anything."

Adam's elbow nearly hits Mercy as he moves his arm to press two fingers against one of his ears. "I know now — I know it's not you."

          "You think?"

          "No," Adam says thinly. "I know it's not you because I'm hearing it in my deaf ear."

Mercy's burning sensation shifts into a chill up her spine. "The line. It's playing tricks on you. What does it sound—?"

          "What is it singing?" Blue cuts off Mercy without realising.

All is pushed out of mind swiftly as Chainsaw opens her beak, cradling herself against Ronan's shoulder and begins to sing.

          "All maidens young and fair, listen to your fathers —"

          "Stop that!" Ronan cuts her off with a shout.

It takes a moment for Mercy to realise that he's not speaking to Chainsaw but the cave system they're caught within. But whatever it is, it isn't a part of his domain—the one that Mercy slips between the cracks into.

          "This was not on my freaky cave bingo card." Mercy mutters into Adam's good ear.

His expression is so blank that Mercy almost raises her hands in surrender.

          "The men of all his land, they listen to their fathers—" Chainsaw continues to sing. It's horrid, her gaping, unclosing beak—a blackhole in which the words almost suck into themselves.

          "Whoever you are, stop that! She's mine."

          "Nothing is ever just yours, Ronan." Mercy says, her gaze keenly focused on the singing bird.

Chainsaw laughs.

          "Jesus Christ," Gansey swears, the hair on his arms raising.

A phantom hand ghosts Mercy's shoulder. It's the devil over her shoulder. Their greyed fingers fiddled with the loose thread of Mercy's clothes. Her own greyed hand goes to smack it away but her fingers glide straight through theirs. The redhead's stomach sinks into this sickly feeling, head fuzzy. It only becomes worse as Berlin's grip becomes tighter. Almost like they're reaching through her clothes and skin into the puppet of bones, pulling on the string just a little tighter every minute.

          "Chainsaw." Ronan snaps.

She's growing, Mercy notices, little by little she's growing—feathers ruffling, beak more savage than it was that morning, black liquid inking her claws and dripping to the cave floor. Chainsaw's eyes glint with something unnatural. She looks to Mercy, clicking her beak and flying further into the cave.

Mercy is bone still, and everything is dead quiet.

Ronan's protests are a hum joined by Blue and Adam's firm answer that no, they will not be untying him.

The hand squeezes her shoulder again, tighter.

          "We're not leaving her," Mercy's firm voice cuts through the argument.

          "You can stay if you're too afraid." Ronan says. He's issued a challenge, a Lynch brother power.

          "It's not myself I'm afraid for, Lynch." Gansey replies. "Reel it in."

          "I think it's just trying to frighten us," Blue points out. "If it really wanted to hurt us, it could've."

Mercy nods in agreement.

          "Adam? Mercy?" Gansey calls down to their end of the line. "Verdict?"

Mercy responds while Adam looks deep in thought. She breathes through the icky, tar-like feeling in her mouth. "Alice went down the rabbit hole. Who am I to say no."

Adam presses his hand to the cave wall, eyes glazing over.

         "Is he also..."

          "No," Mercy answers. "We're all a part of this now."

She's too scared to touch her fingers to the wall. Her palms are sweaty, Mercy wipes them against her shirt.

          "I vote we go on." Adam says, breaking his own trance. "I think the frightening is a side effect, not the intention. I think Chainsaw is meant to lure us in."

Kicking the rocks beneath her boots, Mercy nervously waits for the line to continue down the path and in Chainsaw's direction. The tug at her bones somehow becomes firmer, more desperate the further they get into the cave system.

She doesn't know how long the walk takes. Mercy's eyeing the walls and the floor as she goes. It's clearly been carved out by water, scarily similar to the one her Mom used to describe in stories from Wales. The one her ancestor had carved into. She aches for something to dull the pain. Something like a pill, a beer, a dream.

Chainsaw caws.

          "Chainsaw?" Ronan calls out in a rough voice.

          "Kerah!"

          "Thank goodness." Blue breathes out in relief.

Gansey spots her first, clinging to a ledge in the rock wall. She lands on him heavily after extending an arm. He turns to Ronan, "Here's your bird."

          "And there's your tomb, Gansey." Ronan's voice is odd.

Mercy unclips herself, ignoring Adam's protest and slips roughly through the gaps between him and the cave wall. The stone scrapes her arms, wetness gathering at her elbow. She doesn't spare it a glance. She already knows the grey is dripping from her skin. With swiftness, Mercy makes it to Gansey's side. He's too focused to notice her or the fact that the line's been unclipped. Mercy aches again, studying the entrance.

It's a stone door and a matching stone armoured knight. Simpler than she ever thought it would be. His head rested on two ravens, his feet on fleur-de-lis and in his hands, he holds a shield. Glendower's shield. Something calls to her, to step forward and press her hand to the cool stone. It's like a song, a siren's melody. It feels like she's being guided.

One day, this will be the death of her.

          "There's something in there." She murmurs, just loud enough for Gansey to hear. "But I'm not sure if it's what you want."

He's not listening.

          "It can't be the tomb." Adam calls from the back.

          "Do we just push it open?" Blue asks with uncertainty.

          "I feel peculiar about this." Gansey says, breaking his own silence. "It feels wrong for there to be no... ceremony."

Automatically, Gansey pulls out his phone, taking a few photos of the wall before adding a few location notes along with it.

          "God, Gansey." Ronan says.

Something in Gansey glowed a little, as if Ronan's almost endearing judgement made him feel just that little bit better about himself.

Mercy takes no notice, pressing her fingers to the seam around the knight. Gansey's fingers lag just behind hers, they're standing so close that she can feel the heat and static radiating off his figure.

          "I don't think it's sealed." He says. "I think it's just wedged in. Leverage, maybe?"

Mercy nods. "Not much."

          "It's not in very tightly," Adam confirms, touching the seam.

Mercy's stomach squirms, unable to rid herself of the feeling of faint familiarity. There's a whisper in her ear, part of her has been here before.

Before she can even begin reckoning with herself, the wall caves in. A cloud of dust attacks her nostrils. She sneezes grey into the fabric of her shirt. Mercy turns to glare at the one person she knows would kick their way through an artefact.

Ronan Lynch stands in the centre of the dust cloud, leg lowering and rebalancing. "That was for taking my bird."

          "Ronan," Gansey says, "tell me now if I have to leash you, because I will." He looks pointedly at Ronan as the Lynch brother scoffs. "I'm serious. This is not yours alone. If this is a tomb, someone has been buried here, and you're going to give that person respect. Do not. Make me. Ask you. Again. For that matter, if any of us thinks they won't be able to contain themselves going forward, I suggest we turn around and come back another day or the party in question waits out here."

Mercy holds her hands up in a vague surrender even though she had no intentions of destroying her own history.

Ronan simmers.

          "Don't, Lynch," Gansey says firmly. "I've done this for seven years, and this is the first time I'll have to leave a place looking worse because I've been here. Don't make me wish I'd come without you."

Ronan's head ducks, and in they went.

It's like they've walked into the past. The hair on Mercy's arms raises and her nose feels wet. She wipes her nose, smearing the grey onto her shirt. Untouched and unfaded colours cover the room—royal blue, a bright berry purple and a blood red that drains the colour from Mercy's face.

Fingers ghost her shoulder as she touches her fingers to a woman with bright red hair and a green hood settled against her curls. The woman lies within the first window of untouched wall paintings. Whoever painted her paid great attention to detail, the shades of green shifting as a pattern reveals itself on her cloak as Mercy gets closer. There's more littering the room, all bound by lilies and ravens, columns and pillars.

Saints look down on Mercy and the woman in the painting, causing a shiver down her spine. They're regal in a way that Mercy will never be. Joint together for a cause that she's never truly known. Martyrs cower in the next painting. Half lie with spears through their chests, the other half being burned, fear striking each and every facial feature. Much like her own. Carved hounds chase hares through open green spaces.

And on the wall hang a pair of gauntlets, a helmet and a breastplate. Each with a pattern matching the woman's green cloak.

Blue's hand resting on the base of Mercy's spine brings her back to life. She shakes herself free of her shivers and turns to look at the middle of the tomb. There stands a waist-high stone coffin, the pattern once again appearing in the carvings lining its sides. A stone effigy of Glendower lays on top, his head pillowed on three carved ravens.

          "Look at all the birds," Blue says.

She casts her flashlight over the walls and the coffin, shining her bright light on each and every one of the feathers and beaks littering the room. Blue lands on Adam, beside him Ronan looks more agitated than usual.

With a quiet breath, Mercy realises it's quieter down here than it usually is. There's only one ghost on her shoulder for once. And this one doesn't speak.

          "What are we doing?"

Gansey's voice brings her attention back to the coffin. She moves forward, pressing her cold hand to the cold stone. It hums to her, a sweet, sweet melody. One day, Mercy thinks, this will be how she dies.

          "I think between all of us, we should be able to leverage the lid off," Adam replies.

          "My hands are a little clammy." Blue says.

Mercy stays quiet as they all stand shoulder to shoulder. Gansey counts down in a breathless tone before they push, straining and failing.

          "It's not even wiggling." Gansey says, mildly defeated.

          "Let's try the other side."

Mercy shuffles her feet around the tomb and pushes her fingers into the groves of the stone to get a good grip.

They fail again.

          "They didn't have any heavy lifting equipment." Ronan says.

          "But they could've had ropes and pulleys," Blue replies. "Or more people. Move over, I can't get my other hand on it."

          "No difference will be made." Mercy says, breaking her uncharacteristic silence.

They push together anyway, all silent except for their breathing.

Blue looks either side of her. She nods. "Three, two —"

They lift as one, and suddenly the lid becomes weightless. It slides from their grasp at a rapid speed.

          "Grab it!"

          "No, wait, don't!"

Mercy cringes at the wrenching sound as the lid scrapes off the coffin to its opposite side before careening into the floor. It comes to rest with a slightly less sickening sound.

          "It's cracked." Adam says.

Mercy pushes closer to the coffin. She feels Gansey's presence beside her. He's deadly calm. Gansey and Mercy look at each other, both hands reaching in and pulling the cloth free together.

          "He's facedown?" Blue suggests.

The figure, dressed in a dark surcoat, is facedown in the coffin. A curled mess of long dark hair falls down their back and over their jutted out shoulder blades.

Mercy head tips in a questioning way. The surcoat reveals their knees, pale and bound together. Thinking back to her Mother's history lessons, she has a thought. This is how they buried witches—facedown, hands tied, knees tied. Next to her, Gansey appears to have the same thought. He pulls away, but Mercy's hand drifts of its own accord.

The hair moves, she hesitates slightly.

          "Jesus shit Mary fuck." Ronan curses.

          "Rats?" Adam suggests.

Blue and Gansey recoil.

Mercy's head tips the other direction. She presses her fingers to the shoulder. It's not warm, but it's not quite cold either. Then it moves and Mercy catches a glimpse of a face. Of her face.

          "It's a woman." She says.

The woman wriggles and shimmies, flipping herself around as she sings to herself. As she sings words that Mercy can't bring herself to pay attention to. Her big grey eyes behind big raven hair land on Mercy. Her head tilts, mimicking Mercy's.

          "You're supposed to be dead."