Skye screamed.
Her grandpa had said it would be painful, but she hadn’t imagined this. When Alfrere had begun the binding spell a few minutes before, her skin had tingled with a thousand painful prickles. But quickly, too quickly, the prickles turned into claws.
‘Don’t struggle, Skye,’ Morrigan said. ‘It’s just the old spell fighting the presence of the new one. If you resist, it will make it worse and it won’t work.’
Morrigan’s words were almost lost in the scream that tore from Skye’s throat and wavered around like mist in a fog. The pain was so great she thought she was being flayed. She struggled, her limbs twitching, spasms wracking her body.
‘Stop. Please stop.’
He can’t stop. Her grandpa’s voice was a soothing whisper in her ear that parted the fog of pain in her brain. It must be done. For your protection. For River’s protection.
She stopped struggling as hard. ‘River,’ she breathed. ‘River.’ She gritted her teeth and bore the pain, for him.
It went on, interminably, despite Morrigan’s constant assurances that it would be over soon. Alfrere muttered words, his hands moving, weaving his spell around her. She felt the fetters of it closing on her mind, hot brands, making her cry out despite her efforts not to fight. Darkness closed over her. Whispers followed her into the darkness.
‘Will it be enough?’
‘She’s so strong. I can only make it hold for a little while.’
‘Do your best, Alfrere.’
Pain lashed into her. Darkness carried her away.
‘Skye? Skye? Can you hear me?’
Skye heard Morrigan’s voice as if she was under water. She struggled up, out of the darkness, past the fog. Had she passed out? Her body was still wracked with pain, a terrible headache crushing her skull.
‘Skye. It’s over.’
Thank God. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked up to see Morrigan and Alfrere looking down at her. She was lying on the floor. She must have fallen off the couch. She couldn’t remember.
She rose unsteadily to her feet, her stomach trembling with nausea.
‘Skye, you should sit.’
‘No,’ she mumbled. ‘Visit River now.’ And with that, she stumbled out of the room. They didn’t try to stop her. She was relieved. She had to get away from them. They might have done what was necessary, and she might have let them, but right now she just needed some space. And she needed to see River.
‘Miss Skye. I thought you might need something sugary.’
Skye spun around just as she reached the stairs to see Ferris holding out a glass of Coke on a tray. Sighing in relief, she backtracked towards him and with a smile, grabbed the glass, downing it in one go. ‘Thanks, Ferris. I needed that.’
He didn’t even blink. ‘I can see that, miss. Shall I get you something to eat?’
The Coke had helped the nausea, but she didn’t think she could face food. ‘No. Thanks.’ She shuddered, her nerves still twitching. ‘I just want to see River and then I want to go home and go to bed.’
‘Very wise, miss.’
She became aware of a dog howling outside. ‘What’s that, Ferris?’
‘One of the neighbours’ dogs, I suspect, miss. Or it could be a stray wandering somewhere nearby. It started howling about ten minutes ago. Is it bothering you?’
‘It sounds like it’s in pain.’
‘I’ll call the council. They’ll have words to the owner or pick it up if it’s a stray.’
He turned, but she stopped him, her hand on his arm. ‘Don’t, Ferris. I don’t want the dog catcher to get it if it’s a stray.’ For some reason, that didn’t seem right.
‘I thought you didn’t like dogs, miss.’
An image flashed in her mind of her rolling on the ground with a large wolfish-looking dog, pulling its ears, ruffling its rust-coloured fur, laughing as its bushy tail tickled her bare leg. She smiled at the image that seemed so familiar it was almost a memory. But she had never played with a dog like that.
Or perhaps she had. Could that have been River in his wolf form? How could she have gone from playing with a wolf to being so frightened of dogs—and by association, wolves—that just thinking of them made her heart race? Had the dog that attacked her been one of the Were or a normal dog?
‘Miss? Are you okay?’
Skye blinked at Ferris, who was standing closer to her, his hand cupping her elbow. The howling outside intensified. It pulled at her, making her want to go outside and find that dog and hold it to her breast, petting it until the agony that made it sound like it was dying faded away.
But that was insane. ‘I’m fine, Ferris.’ She stepped away from him. ‘You’re right. I don’t like dogs. But I can’t stand to hear something in pain either.’
‘Neither can I, miss.’ He reached out and touched her hand, squeezing her fingers for a brief second before letting go.
Tears pricked her eyes and she turned away, unwilling to lose control again. She’d already cried far more today than she had in the last few years. She didn’t want to cry again.
‘Why don’t you head up and visit Master River, miss? I’ll send some sandwiches up just in case you get hungry. Master River might be well enough to want to eat now, too.’
Giving in to impulse, she kissed his soft, wrinkled cheek, and then scurried up the stairs as fast as her still aching limbs would carry her, to her brother and the only sanctuary she’d ever found in this house—River’s rooms.
Careful not to make too much noise—he was always so sensitive to sound, especially after one of his episodes—she unlocked the door then opened it, grateful that the hinges didn’t creak like they sometimes did. Slipping into the room, she closed the door behind her with barely a snick of sound.
Even so, River groaned.
He lay on his bed, arms and legs strapped down by thick, strong straps of leather attached to the steel frame of the bed.
It always reminded her of a scene in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. She hated it, but knew the necessity, now more than ever. Her lip curled as she looked at him. If she could go out and find that rogue coven, she’d kill every single last member for causing the accident that made her brother like this. But now wasn’t the time for such hatred. River needed her to be calm.
As she moved closer, he whipped his head to the side, the tendons and veins standing out like fine lines of bruises on his pale skin as he struggled against the straps. He snarled, his mouth and features contorted into something that was more animal than human, and opened his red-rimmed eyes, the left one pulled down at the corner by the burn scars that twisted across the left side of his face and into his hairline like obscene tentacles. There was a fine sheen of sweat on his face and his light blue T-shirt was plastered to his chest.
He caught sight of her.
All the tension released from his body and he flopped back against his damp sheets, nostrils flaring as he breathed in deeply. In a voice hoarse with screaming, he whispered, ‘Skye.’
‘River.’ Her voice caught on the lump in her throat. She raced forward, fighting with trembling hands to undo the straps holding him to the bed. The scent of sweat and blood tangled in the air, making nausea rise inside her again, but she bit down on it, concentrating on keeping her hands steady as she released him. She undid the strap on one arm and was leaning to do the other when his free hand caught hers.
‘No, Skye. I’m not sure I can control myself.’
His voice was slurred with the drugs, but she understood every word.
‘You would never hurt me, River.’
‘I would never mean to. But I have.’
She grasped his face in her hands and stared into his eyes, so full of pain and confusion. ‘Shh. Don’t think of that. You’ve always protected me.’ She brushed the sweaty hair from his brow and leaned down to kiss his forehead. ‘I love you, River.’
‘I love you too, Skye.’
She didn’t deserve his love and trust. He still blamed himself for hur
ting her, but the bruises he’d put around her throat that one time had healed long ago—she’d scarred him for life. He never accepted that argument from her and she wasn’t going to bring it up now. She kissed his brow and returned to undoing the straps. They fell to the side of the bed, the heavy metal buckle clanking against the steel frame.
River whimpered, covering his ears with hands marred by scrapes and bruises, dried blood smeared across his knuckles.
‘Shh, River,’ she whispered. ‘Take some deep breaths.’ She covered his hands with hers, gently pulling them away from his ears, trying not to notice the mangled red mess that was all that remained of his left ear. She couldn’t let guilt taint this precious time with him. ‘I’m just going to get water to wash these, and some salve. You’ve scraped them raw. I’ll be right back.’
He grabbed her wrist in his large hand before she’d got more than one step away from the bed. ‘No. Don’t leave me. Please.’
He sounded so panicked, a little boy lost, that she didn’t have the heart to leave him right then, even though he desperately needed cleaning up. ‘All right, River. I’m not going anywhere for a while.’
He nodded, a whimper escaping him, his fingers tightening on her wrist.
She winced. ‘River. Can you let go of my wrist? You’re gripping too tight.’
‘I don’t want you to go,’ he rasped.
She covered his hand in hers and smiled, even though she could feel her bones grinding together under his strong grip. ‘I told you, I’m not going anywhere right now. I’ll stay here and talk with you until you fall asleep. Okay?’
‘I don’t mean now. You can’t go, Skye. I need you. They need you. Can’t you see that? Can’t you feel it?’
Skye shook her head. ‘You know?’
‘I told you the other day. The twin bond is open again. Ever since you met him.’
‘How much did you see?’
‘Not all of it. But enough.’
Her skin heated as she thought of what he might have seen and felt.
His hand tightened on hers. ‘They’re wrong. About me. About the Curse.’
Skye frowned. ‘I don’t think Jason lied about it. I think he believes—’
‘Not Jason.’ He screwed up his eyes, his breath coming in little pants. ‘It’s so hard to think. Damned drugs stop so much. But I need … moondust. Moondust will force a change. Please, Skye. Remember how to call it. Try.’
Ignoring the hot pricking of tears at the back of her eyes, she looked towards the one window in his room. It was high in the opposite wall, long and narrow by design—he’d flung himself out of the window in his old room in one of his fits. The only view this window gave was of the tops of the nearby trees and a sliver of sky.
‘I can’t call moondust. I don’t know how.’
‘You did. You used to do it to tease me with it when we were younger. You just … need to believe.’
‘Oh God, River. I want to. I want to more than anything, but it’s too dangerous. I can’t risk using my power.’
He stared up at her for a long moment, his lips moving as if he was trying to say something. She gripped his hand in hers, holding on tight, as if by holding tight enough, she could stop him from slipping away from her.
Outside, the dog let out a final heart-piercing howl before falling silent.
River tried to struggle upright. ‘He’s here—go to him, Skye. He’s here.’
Shivers skated over her suddenly icy skin. ‘River?’ She tried to push him back down. ‘River, you have to stay calm.’
‘Go with him … Trust him—he can help. You can help him. You can help us all. But only after … you believe. Only after you … accept. But you won’t accept … not if you still believe … the lies.’ His grip tightened and his eyes seemed almost to spark with intensity, as if lightning shot through their depths. ‘They’ll kill me—him. They want to kill us … want the power … but it’s not theirs to have. Not theirs at all.’
Skye began to tremble, to shake her head, to draw back from his firm grip.
‘Are you talking about the rogue coven?’
‘Yes. And others … the warlock … he lies.’
‘He’s grandpa’s friend.’
He gasped as if in terrible pain. Veins stood out on his face, down his neck. ‘Alpha. Jason … trust him. For me.’ His head thrashed from side to side as he tried to spit out words that sounded more like grunts. Muscles bulged in his arms, as if they were trying to explode out of his skin. He was getting too excited.
She twisted her arm out of his grip, took his face in her hands and looked deeply into his eyes. ‘River, listen to me. You have to calm down.’ The bristles of his five-o’clock shadow scraped against her palms, the scars on his cheek smooth under her fingers.
He trembled. Not from anger—from fear. She could feel it in the clammy coldness of his skin. The sharpness of his shallow breaths. He was like a wild animal, fighting the need to bolt. ‘Shh, River. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.’
‘No. Not okay.’ His gaze slammed into hers, the light in his eyes showing a lucidity his words denied. He reached up, cupped her face, his gentle touch belying the tension straining through the rest of his body. ‘Nothing’s been okay since we were stolen away. And now I can make you remember.’
A jolt shot through Skye as she stared into his eyes, felt the warmth of his hands on her face grow hotter and hotter until she was certain his fingers were going to leave blisters in their wake. She gasped, trying to pull away, but she was caught in his gaze, the light she’d seen before arching and shaping into something that drew her in. She couldn’t look away
Flashing scenes tumbled in her mind, one over the other—a car crashing into a tree; her mother impaled, dead; her papa pleading with her to run; people in black; hands grabbing for her; River bursting into a golden-rainbow glow; a shot, River slumping, caught in a half change, his eyes meeting hers, pleading; fire lashing out of her hands, lighting up those in black, turning them to ashes; hands on her, around her; a caring voice; a prick in her neck—black. A terrible, tearing, black.
Outside, the dog started howling again. Almost as if it shared her pain.
But the sound, that awful sound of loss and longing, brought her back.
She blinked, staring down at her brother as if she’d never quite seen him before.
‘What happened?’
‘You remembered. If you remembered that, you can remember …’ His voice choked off and he winced. ‘No. Not yet. Just a few minutes more. Please. Hold on for a few minutes more.’ He winced again, then cried out, his body shaking as if fighting against something holding him down. His eyes rolled up until all she could see was the blood-shot whites.
‘River?’ She took his face in her hands, but his eyes closed and his body went slack on the bed.
He’d passed out.
His face was ruddy, his skin and hair sweaty. The scars on his cheek were vivid white against the red flushing his skin.
‘River?’ she whispered. Grabbing the box of tissues from the bedside table, she dipped a handful in the water on his bedside table and wiped his face, neck and chest. ‘Oh, River.’ She leaned over and kissed him. How could she leave him? How was she ever going to say goodbye? He needed her. But she had no choice. Morrigan, Harrison and Alfrere had made that very clear.
Tears pricked her eyes and her chest ached, making it hard to breathe. Alfrere had given her a few days, although she might not even have that if the spell was already weak enough to let her see River’s memories through the twin bond. In that time she had to find a way to help them too. She couldn’t be like Morrigan, not caring if they lived or died. If they needed magic from her to break a curse, then she had to find a way to help them.
Was there a way she could give it to them but still be far away? No. That wouldn’t work, because if she was using magic, she could be tracked.
Could she find some other witch to bind to their pack to give them what they needed?
; She almost cried out as a tug, sharp and tearing, pulled at her heart, stealing her breath at the thought of Jason wanting someone else.
But if that was the only way …
She ran her hand over River’s hair, down the side of his face in a caress she could only steal when he was asleep. ‘I won’t leave you without pack.’ Morrigan loved him and had done everything she could for them. But the pack would have doctors trained in Were physiology. They would be able to help him. They had to.
She’d read somewhere that wolves needed to belong to a pack. Or maybe it was just some deep-seated knowledge she had from when she was young; when, with a mother and brother who both turned into wolves, she understood what it meant to be Were; when her father taught her what it was she was meant to do.
Her head swam sickeningly with an aching emptiness.
Oh God! She’d forgotten so much.
Jason had mentioned diaries her father and other Pack Witches had written. She needed to read them, find out all she could. Apart from wanting to help River, she couldn’t leave Jason and his pack to succumb to a curse if she could stop it. Morrigan seemed to think the Curse wouldn’t affect them if she was safe—but she wasn’t safe and would never be again. So she had to find a way around the Curse. Another witch seemed the likeliest answer. One who could stay.
There had to be information about the spell that bound Were and the covens in the diaries. But where would she find a free witch powerful enough who was willing to tie herself in that way?
Fudge it all! A couple of days just wasn’t enough time.
Panic seized her and her fingers sizzled with heat again. Pain blazed behind her eyes, so hot, so white, it made her stumble as she stood.
Afraid to touch River while power sizzled in her fingertips, she whispered, ‘I promise I’ll come back to say goodbye before I go. And I’ll find some way to help the pack. For Jason. For you.’
Tears pricked at her eyes as she stumbled to the door. The pain, a white-hot inferno across her forehead now, was nothing in comparison to the pain in her heart at the thought of never seeing her brother again. She had to pull herself together. She couldn’t let the power spark once more.
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