by M. J. Hearle
‘Yes. The cats are friends to the Demori. They listen to me.’
Blake leaned across the coffee table and picked up Nefertem, holding him up to his eye level. The fat tabby’s cheeks spilled over the edges of Blake’s hands.
‘You’ll look after Winter, won’t you, Nefertem?’ he asked, staring deeply into the cat’s yellow eyes. Nefertem blinked sleepily and yawned. Blake smiled in satisfaction as if that was the precise answer he was looking for, and sat the cat down on the coffee table. Winter watched him in bewilderment, feeling as if she’d stepped into the middle of a school play without knowing the script.
‘I nearly forgot,’ Blake said, reaching into his pocket. ‘I was trying to pick the right moment to give this to you.’ He pulled out something metal that glittered in the firelight. ‘I suppose now is as good a time as any.’
He opened his hand and showed Winter what was lying in his palm. It was a gold chain with a small green crystal shard adorning it.
‘What is it?’ Winter asked, mesmerised by the way the rough facets of the crystal reflected the firelight.
‘A lodestone.’ Blake reached over and hung it delicately around her neck. She shivered as his fingers lightly brushed against her skin. While the chain was cool, the crystal itself gave off a mild, comforting heat. ‘If you need me, simply hold the stone and say my name. I’ll come as soon as I can.’
Winter looked at him dubiously. ‘It’s a magic necklace?’
Blake returned her incredulous look. ‘After everything I’ve told you, you find that hard to believe?’ Winter supposed he had a point. ‘Don’t use it unless you absolutely have to.’
Winter rolled the crystal between her fingers. ‘Thank you. I wish I could give you something back.’
‘You can.’ Blake’s eyes darted away from Winter. ‘But I’m afraid to ask.’
He stood and walked to the centre of the room where he paused on the edge of the flickering firelight, his back to her.
Confused by his reticence, Winter followed him. She touched him lightly on the shoulder, turning him around to face her. ‘Don’t be. I’ll give you anything I can.’
Blake took a deep breath. ‘Will you kiss me?’
All Winter’s other concerns were momentarily over-whelmed by Blake’s question. He wanted to kiss her? While the idea of such a request would have left her weak at the knees mere hours ago, since that time Winter had learned some things that gave her pause. How close had she come to disappearing completely into Blake’s embrace on the beach last night?
Something about her reaction must have keyed Blake into this reservation, because he began to backtrack. ‘I’m sorry, Winter. You don’t have to —’
‘No. Please . . . I want to,’ she said haltingly. ‘I’m just . . .’
‘Afraid?’
Winter nodded guiltily. ‘And confused. Why do you want to kiss me?’
‘I’m still weak from the last journey. I need some of your energy to make the journey to Krypthia.’
‘You use that line on all the girls?’ she said, awkwardly trying to cover her nervousness.
Blake ignored her joke. This was clearly no laughing matter. ‘You don’t need to be afraid of me, Winter. I can control the hunger.’ It seemed important to him that she understand that last point. He waited for her answer, his face completely open in its vulnerability. She didn’t want to hurt him, but . . .
‘It’s just . . .’
Blake was agreeing with her before she could finish voicing her hesitation. He seemed more than willing to move away from the subject. ‘Forget I asked. I’ll manage. You don’t have to worry —’
‘Blake,’ Winter said, stopping him in his tracks. She walked to where he was standing in the centre of the room. His expression was so tortured that Winter had to restrain herself from throwing her arms around him then and there. Anything to take that pain from his face.
‘Come here,’ she ordered him softly.
Blake took a tentative step towards her, as though afraid she might be capable of harming him. ‘Are you sure about this?’ he asked one last time, searching her eyes for permission.
‘Yes,’ Winter replied, and lifted her lips to his.
It was different from their first kiss, but no less powerful. There was an element of fear in the act that somehow made it all the more thrilling. Despite Blake’s reassurances, a part of Winter accepted that this could be her last kiss and intended to enjoy every second of it.
So many strong emotions vied for attention – fear, lust, compassion, love. There was a softness to his lips – the way they yielded to hers – that seemed almost feminine; however, the fine stubble on his chin lent a delicious roughness. Winter could feel the firmness of Blake’s tongue, and she eagerly responded in kind, tasting his sweetness and passion.
He cradled her face in his, his thumbs stroking her delicately just below the cheekbones as he pulled her closer. Winter knew Blake was drinking her now, she could feel herself being drawn into him, but she was surprisingly unafraid. If this was what dying felt like, this losing oneself in the arms of another, then Winter could suffer it gladly. She could suffer it for him . . .
And then the kiss was over and Blake was moving away from her, his face glowing with new vitality.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked her, gripping her shoulders in concern.
Winter felt light-headed and a little breathless. Wobbling a little unsteadily on her feet, she managed a smile. ‘I’m fine.’
‘You’re sure?’ He was studying her eyes for any hint of a lie.
‘Yes. Was that long enough?’ As foolish as it was, she hoped he would say no.
Blake disappointed her by nodding. ‘Thank you.’
‘What now?’
‘I’ll leave you.’
‘Shouldn’t you wait until it gets dark?’ Winter could see through the crack between the curtains that the light outside was dimming. Twilight would be upon these woods soon enough and his power would be stronger.
Blake shook his head. ‘There isn’t any time to waste. I don’t know how long it will take me to find the answers I need, and you can’t stay here forever.’
Winter hadn’t thought of that. She wondered idly if Lucy had returned home from work yet, and made a mental note to call. Despite the peril of her situation, Winter didn’t want to put her sister through another night of worry.
Blake walked over to the fire and extinguished it, kicking soot over the embers. Winter put her hand on his arm and the two of them stood in the dying light.
‘Blake . . . ?’
‘Yes?’
‘You don’t have to do this for me.’
Blake leaned over and placed a tender kiss upon her forehead.
‘Yes, I do.’
‘What if something happens while you’re gone?’ Winter asked, fighting to keep the fear out of her voice.
‘It won’t,’ Blake said calmly. ‘But if it does . . .’ He glanced down at the lodestone. ‘Call me. Time to go.’ He took a step back into the deeper darkness of the room. ‘One last thing, Winter.’
‘Yes?’
He paused, lending gravity to what he was about to say. ‘Promise me you won’t go upstairs. No matter what you hear. It’s not safe.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Promise me,’ he insisted.
‘I promise,’ Winter said, and chastised herself for the worm of curiosity that had already started to thread its way through her conviction. What was upstairs?
Now that the embers had died away completely, the room was almost pitch black, save for the faint light finding its way in between the crack in the curtains. By this meagre illumination Winter could see that Blake was frightened.
‘See you soon,’ he said quietly.
Winter watched Blake’s eyes glittering in the dark, and then grew aware that the air around them was suddenly charged with electricity. The fine hair on her arms stood on end as her entire body reacted to the invisible power that was building. Green sparks igni
ted around Blake, etching him in light. There was a sound like a thunderclap and then he was gone. He’d Travelled, leaving behind him the faintest trace of perfume: the scent of the Dead Lands.
Winter remained in the living room a moment longer, studying the space where his silhouette had just stood, before accepting she was now by herself. It seemed so quiet in the house. She could hear the foundations creaking, the grandfather clock ticking, and the rain outside as it fell upon the roof.
Without the comforting presence of Blake, the dark of the living room contained a menace it had previously lacked. It felt alive, this darkness. Unnerved, Winter quickly left to find somewhere brighter to wait.
Chapter 47
Winter wandered through Blake’s kitchen, turning the light on with one hand, holding her phone with the other.
‘Luce, I told you last week that I was going to spend the night at Jasmine’s. Don’t you remember?’ Of course she had told Lucy no such thing, but was gambling on the fact that her sister was too preoccupied with the various aspects of her own life to remember this.
‘Did you? I must have forgotten.’ Lucy didn’t sound entirely convinced that the fault lay with her, but at least she wasn’t upset with Winter. ‘It’s a shame, because I’m making a stir-fry tonight. Y’know, with cashew nuts and tiny pieces of carrot. You love that, right?’
Winter did love it when her mother had made it. Unfortunately, Lucy’s version of the dish resembled it in name only.
‘Save some for me. I’ll eat it tomorrow.’
‘Okay. Have fun with Jasmine tonight – what time should I expect you home tomorrow?’
It suddenly dawned on Winter that there was the very real possibility that she might never see Lucy again. It made her sadder to think of Lucy’s reaction to her death than to contemplate it herself.
‘Sooner rather than later,’ Winter replied. ‘Bye, Luce.’
She hung up the phone, feeling a little lost and hopeless. Staring through the kitchen window at the shadowy woods outside, she could see Owl Mountain, partially obscured by the sleeting rain. Looking at that monolith, Winter felt a shiver pass through her, followed by a strong sense of foreboding that bordered on premonition.
She shook herself, trying to clear the dark thoughts from her mind.
Blake was going to save her.
All she had to do was wait here until his return. Wait alone in the Velasco place, while soul thieves lurked outside and an unknown danger resided upstairs. As if sensing her vulnerable state, Nefertem leapt up onto the kitchen counter. Try as she might, Winter simply couldn’t see anything remarkable about the cat that suggested he could protect her. Still, supernatural guardian or not, she appreciated that at least she had some company. Gathering Nefertem into her arms, Winter left the kitchen to search the rest of the house for a television or something to keep her distracted.
Exploring the rooms with Nefertem curled up in her arms, Winter was disappointed to find nothing that might offer her an escape from her thoughts. No television, no books, no magazines – nothing whatsoever. Just dust, and cobwebs, and antique furniture covered in yellowing sheets. The box of journals had disappeared from the hallway as well. Despite her restlessness, she was grateful they were gone; the temptation to hunt through them for more English passages, to uncover more of Blake’s past, would have been difficult to resist.
She passed into the front hallway and her eyes jumped to the staircase and the darkness that lay at the top of the stairs. What was stopping the menace lurking on that forbidden level from venturing down to claim her?
Perhaps the danger Blake had referred to wasn’t a conscious entity but instead a mysterious artefact, like the lodestone he’d given her. Rolling the crystal absently between her fingers, Winter wondered if it really was magic, or if Blake had just given her some kind of Dumbo’s feather: an object Winter could hold onto for strength when she felt afraid or insecure, but one that had no real power.
Winter’s eyes shifted from the staircase to Blake’s painting, which was still propped against the hall table.
Grateful for something to take her mind off herself, Winter dropped Nefertem and bent down for a closer look. She lifted the sheet and gazed with new interest at the painted figures beneath. The sadness in Madeleine’s eyes now held greater poignancy for Winter. She wondered what it was like to be the lover of an immortal.
Winter’s eyes drifted down to the tiny figure of Blake, his rosy cheeks and green eyes sparkling with mirth. He’d been happy then, too young to know what fate lay ahead. Claudette, on the other hand, seemed a much more sombre child. There was a wildness in her eyes that Winter had to suppose was the artist’s invention. She didn’t believe infants were capable of looking so malicious.
Unexpectedly, Winter heard a noise from the kitchen behind her. It sounded like crabs scuttling across the tiled floor. Her heart froze, a block of jagged ice in her chest. There it was again! An erratic clicking sound, like a giant insect.
She let the cover fall back over the painting and turned slowly to face the kitchen door. Nefertem meowed at her feet, his tail flicking back and forth, sensing the danger.
Winter tried to convince herself it was nothing, that it was just the pipes or some other house sound, such as the aged framework reacting to the humidity of the storm. With Nefertem at her side, Winter crept towards the kitchen, straining to listen for the erratic clicking, which had fallen silent. She paused outside, her hand resting on the doorknob, asking herself if she really wanted to see what was on the other side.
Her hand stole to the necklace – maybe now would be a good time to see if the lodestone really worked? But she decided against it. Winter wanted to allow Blake as much time as he needed to find the answers in Krypthia. Calling him back so soon would only delay her salvation.
At her feet, Nefertem was staring intently at the door, making a strange growling noise in the back of his throat. Winter prayed that Blake had known what he was doing, entrusting her safety to the cat. There was nothing else for it. She could either remain here, cowering in the front hall, or face whatever lay in the room beyond.
Winter pushed open the door.
Chapter 48
The Skivers had found her!
Winter’s eyes widened in horror at the sight of them standing outside in the rain. There were so many of them! A dozen at least, pressed up against the kitchen windows like horrid insects drawn to the light inside. At Winter’s entry, their cruel white faces snapped in her direction, teeth clicking together in excited unison at the nearness of their prey. Winter felt the strength in her legs fail as a wave of debilitating terror washed over her. She wanted to turn and run, but she couldn’t move, held in place by the Skivers’ black-eyed gaze boring into her own. She could see herself reflected in their eyes, her image captured in a world of infinite darkness.
There was a blur of orange at her feet as Nefertem raced past her and leapt up on top of the kitchen counter.
The tabby coiled back on its haunches, hissing and spitting at the Skivers as though daring them to come through the glass.
Winter watched in dazed astonishment as the Skivers recoiled from Nefertem, drifting back from the windows and moving out of sight. It was working! The cat was actually scaring these creatures!
Once the last of the Skivers had vanished, Winter took a few hesitant steps towards the counter and scooped up the now-docile Nefertem. The cat felt hot and feverish in her arms, but otherwise had instantly reverted to his languor once his enemies had vanished.
Blake had been right about not underestimating the tabby’s worth, and Winter felt guilty for doubting him. Something about the cat had scared the hell out of the monsters, enough to drive them away.
Clutching Nefertem to her breast, Winter backed slowly out of the kitchen, watching the windows. After all, the Skivers could still be out there. Winter conjured a disturbing image of them gliding soundlessly around the house like hungry sharks circling a life raft, and shuddered.
Wielding her furry guardian like a weapon, Winter passed into the front hallway. There was no trace of the clicking sound any more; the house was silent. She could hear the wind whistling faintly through the trees outside, but apart from that – nothing. Cautiously, she made her way through the front part of the house, treading softly on the thick carpet.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Winter cried out at the almighty pounding from the front door. Staggering backwards, her eyes widened in fear as the doorhandle began to rattle violently. Blake had been wrong about the Skivers.
They were going to get in!
Nefertem seemed as startled as she was by the frightening din and squirmed from her grasp, dropping to the floor. The courage he’d shown had apparently been spent. Winter tried to catch him, but was too slow as the cat bolted up the stairs to the forbidden level. Winter spent one panicky moment in deliberation – Blake had made her promise! – before giving chase to the cat. Whatever dangers lurked above couldn’t be as bad as the ones that threatened from the other side of that door.
Reaching the top of the stairs, Winter crouched against the banister, ears straining for the sound of the front door being opened. The doorknob continued to rattle but there was no indication that the Skivers had gained entry. After a few more seconds of agonising suspense, the din abruptly ceased.
She remained still a moment longer, listening to her own harried breathing, before she allowed herself to move. It looked as if she was safe for the time being. Regardless, Winter would feel a whole lot better as soon as she had Nefertem in her arms again.
Winter felt like a trespasser, but comforted herself with the thought that even if Blake discovered she’d broken her promise, he was sure to understand once she explained the situation. After all, Blake had been the one who had given her Nefertem as protection in the first place; Winter reasoned that he would want her to take whatever steps necessary to remain with her guardian.