Winter Castle (Winter Plague Book 2)

by Isla Jones

  You get my point.

  Who the hell was she—some stranger!—to do that to Castle? To smile at him like that? She was nobody!

  But she wasn’t nobody. She was everyone and everything—I knew it the moment that one word whispered from Castle’s lips. And with it, the entire world came crashing down on me.

  “Zoe.”

  THE PROBLEM WITH STRAYS

  ENTRY SEVENTEEN

  “Zoe,” Castle repeated. “What are you doing here?”

  Zoe? Zoe?

  The name rang in my ears, like that annoying piercing sound I sometimes got after shooting my gun. It prickled my eardrums and stole my hearing from me.

  My vision had blurred, my heart had plummeted down to my bum. I didn’t know if I wanted to puke or use the bathroom. All I know is that I wanted to cry—really cry. I wanted to curl up and sob. Like I had for Leo.

  “Driving through town,” she said, shrugging. “Scavenging what I can, when I can.”

  “With what car?” shouted Adam. Zoe switched her gaze to him; he gave a lazy wave.

  Zoe smiled at him. “I parked it off the road after I spotted this one’s car.” Her head jerked to me. I’d become ‘this one’. “Doesn’t matter,” she added. “It’s a beat-up piece of shit. Not sure I’ll even get it to start again.”

  “No worries,” I said. “We can fix it up for you and send you on your way.”

  Castle’s stare swerved back to me. The anger had vaporised, and for once I didn’t know what his eyes were telling me, or what his gaze meant.

  Zoe gave me a false smirk. “Charming.”

  Zoe looked back at Castle; he kept his eyes on me.

  “I’m glad I happened across you, Castle,” she said. “After I left—I wanted to come back. I wanted to, but I—I admit I was afraid. I’d made my decision. And too much time went by to change it. Not that I’d even know how to come back if I’d decided to. You move a lot.”

  I made a face at her. She didn’t catch it; her googly eyes were all over Castle.

  Castle peeled his gaze from me and touched it back to her. “That’s what you want?” he said. “To come back?”

  Someone had cut me open and torn out my organs. I’d been gutted.

  “If you’ll have me.”

  My legs threatened to buckle beneath me. But I didn’t want to appear dramatic, you know? So I kicked the supplies at my feet instead. Because that was the most mature option.

  “Here,” I said, tossing the keys at Castle. “I’ll ride back with Adam. You two can catch up.” It wasn’t a sweet gesture—I made sure they both knew that when I stomped on Castle’s favourite flavour of protein bar as I marched over to the pick-up truck.

  I hopped into the driver’s seat. Adam ducked back into his seat and surprised me, not for the first time. He didn’t say a word of protest. He just shared a look with Castle through the window, then fell back into his seat.

  The entire drive back to the auto-shop, I beat back the tears.

  Is this what Castle had felt at the prospect of Leo coming back? He seemed to think Leo was still alive. Had Castle been afraid of me drifting back to his comrade? Is this how he felt?

  It felt like dirt. It was nausea and anxiety rolled into a ball and stuffed down my throat.

  I suddenly became aware of my hair colour. Let’s be honest, it’s not peach, it’s a pale fucking ginger. I have freckles. I have a snub nose. My lips aren’t full like hers are. And mine are always chapped. I’m pasty, freckled, and—I’m not Zoe.

  And there she sat, on my chair at the dining table, her beautiful curls wound tightly on top of her head. The sides of her head were shaved into shapes and fades. Her legs were wrapped in ripped blue jeans, and her black shiny boots matched her leather jacket.

  Zoe was something I would never be—cool.

  Vicki sat with her at the dining table. There were only two seats, so I glowered from the armchair. Mac, Adam and Castle had disappeared—likely to the cellar—to discuss ‘a private matter’. I’ll give you three guesses for what that matter is. Here’s a hint: It starts with long legs, has mocha skin more flawless than mine on the best of days, and ends in a badass hairstyle.

  “Cute Chihuahua.” It was Zoe. I looked up at her; she was twisted around in the chair, a smile on her face as she gazed at Cleo. “Mind if I hold her?”

  I hugged Cleo closer to my chest. “She bites,” I said. It was true. Sometimes she did bite.

  Zoe smiled; her curls wobbled as she gave a slow nod, one that told of her disbelief.

  “I’m not lying,” I insisted.

  Zoe arched her brow, and looked at me as if I was the weird kid that followed her around school. I suppose I am that weird kid. I’m not quirky or adorable—I’m just strange.

  Zoe didn’t hold back the humour in her voice; “I didn’t say you were lying.”

  Vicki just gazed at the fire-pit.

  I licked my lips and rose from the stuffy armchair. Without a word, I left the kitchen—before dinner had even been cooked—and went into the lounge room. The door in the fireplace was open. The deltas were down there.

  With a sigh, I gathered up my bedding and wandered out of the room. Zoe might want the second mattress now—and I didn’t fancy being in there with her and Castle.

  There was a blow-up mattress in the spare room. I strolled down the corridor, hugging the blankets and pillows to my chest. Cleo trotted in front of me; she glanced over her shoulder often to check that I was still behind her.

  As I neared the kitchen again to pass it, I heard Zoe’s voice. Normally, I wouldn’t stop to eavesdrop, but I’d heard my name.

  “Does he like that Winter-chick?” she said. “She doesn’t seem his type.”

  “Oh, and what’s his type?” said Vicki with a laugh.

  “Not that.” The viciousness of her tone stung me. “She’s a bit off, isn’t she? Maybe he was just using her while they were stuck together.”

  Vicki hummed neutrally. “They have something,” she said. “It’s complicated.”

  “What’s complicated about it? I’m back now—Castle and I have unfinished business.”

  “It’s the same kind of complicated as it was with you and Castle.”

  “My relationship with him is not the same as hers. Leo—things happened. It got messy.”

  “Like I said,” replied Vicki. “Her relationship with them is very much like the one you had with them.”

  A door shut behind me. I spun around and looked into the dark hallway. No one was there. It would have been the deltas leaving the passageway.

  I huddled up the bedding in my arms and crept by the kitchen door, further into the darkness. When Cleo and I got into the spare bedroom, I shut the door behind us and dropped the blankets and pillows onto the inflatable bed.

  I tried to distract myself with books and magazine. But within twenty minutes, I realised that nothing was going to distract me. I reclined on the bed and shut my eyes—and I let it all in.

  And suddenly, it hit me.

  I’d become the new Rose.

  The door opened.

  I was sitting at the edge of a dressing table, flicking through a health magazine. The light from the candle illuminated the pages in a faint orange glow.

  I looked up as Castle came into the room. He balanced a bowl of tinned soup in his hand as he shut the door behind him.

  “You missed dinner,” he said.

  He placed the bowl on the floor beside the inflatable bed. My eyes traced his stare to the blankets draped over the blow-up mattress. Before he tried to meet my gaze, I looked back at the magazine.

  “Thanks,” I muttered. The sound of my grumbly voice was overpowered by the loud flick of the page; a recipe for coconut protein balls faced me.

  Cleo woke on the bed at the scent of pumpkin soup. She sniffed the air sleepily.

  Castle crouched down beside the bed and pulled out a tin of tuna in spring-water. “And this one’s for you.”

  My brows raised as he pe
eled back the lid and placed it on the floor. Cleo hopped off the bed and stuck her face into the tin; I don’t think she breathed at all as she scoffed down her meal.

  “How’s Zoe?” I asked. I hoped my voice didn’t betray the tornado within me.

  Castle slid from the floor to the mattress. He rested his forearms on his thighs, and his eyes looked up at me from beneath long lashes. The flicker of the candle stretched shadows along his face.

  “I wouldn’t know,” he said. His fingers tangled together between his spread legs; it was the only sign he gave of his unease. “I’ve been preoccupied with other matters.”

  “Or,” I said, “you’ve been pretending to be busy to avoid all of this.”

  He said nothing. His eyes flickered green and blue against the light of the flame. The words he wanted to say swarmed in the hues, but they didn’t reach his tongue.

  “Castle,” I said quietly. “You and Zoe have a history. It’s something I don’t have with you—and whatever happened between us was quick to end. Please don’t think for a second that I’ll resent you if you get back with her.”

  Of course I would resent him. But I couldn’t tell him that. It wouldn’t be fair to push that sort of pressure onto him. Especially since we’d never even gotten together—not really.

  Castle’s tongue dragged across his bottom lip. His eyes shifted to his entwined fingers. “That’s how you feel?”

  The magazine rustled as I shrugged. “I’m not going to stand in your way.”

  Castle shook his head, as if disappointed. The waves of dirty-blond brushed over his temples and fell into his eyes. He swept a hand over his face to move the stray strands.

  “The day I met you,” he said, “it took me seconds to clock onto what was going on between you and Leo.”

  As my hands closed the magazine, my heart skipped a beat at the sound of Leo’s name.

  “I didn’t understand it,” he said, still staring at his hands. “The mission is the priority. It’s the most important thing in this world right now—but Leo had lost sight of that.” Castle pried his fingers apart before he rubbed a hand through his hair. “At the farmhouse when we were under attack, Leo went looking for you. His first instinct should’ve been the cargo.”

  “That’s not my fault,” I whispered.

  “It isn’t,” he agreed. “I never blamed you. I blamed Leo.”

  A burst of protectiveness exploded within me. I wanted to argue that Leo wasn’t to blame for any of it. To blame a dead man was easy—easier than defending one.

  I bit back my words and waited for Castle to explain.

  “It was slow,” he said. “It was so gradual that I only realised when we were at the gun shop—when Billy looked at you the way he did. It was as if I’d woken up one day with something I hadn’t had the day before—I could relate to Leo.” Finally, arctic-green eyes met mine; the air was shoved out of me at the force his gaze. I’d never seen them so clear; so empty. “The mission is more important than you are,” he said. “But that logic doesn’t seem to matter to me anymore. I try to prioritise, but you come out on top each time.”

  My lips spoke the words he’d said to me; “I’m a distraction.”

  “You are.”

  I shifted my gaze to the wall. “Was Zoe?”

  “Never.” Castle pressed his hands against his knees and pushed himself to his feet. “Zoe and I are finished. There’s nothing there between us—on my end.”

  With his assurance came the understanding—this hadn’t been a ‘let’s-work-through-it’ speech. Castle had wanted me to know how he felt about me, while keeping me at a distance. I would’ve preferred he avoided the talk.

  Castle stood by the inflatable bed, watching me. I kept my gaze on the wall; if I met his eyes, I’m not sure what would have slipped from my mouth. Words of truth were too valuable—if I told him of how I was shredding inside, I would be vulnerable. Besides, it wouldn’t have made a difference.

  He cleared his throat.

  The moment shattered, and we plummeted back into the pit of uncomfortable acquaintance. I looked at him.

  Castle gestured to the cold soup. “If you’re still hungry, you know where the supplies are,” he said. “Everything you looted from the town is in the lounge.”

  “I’ll get it later.” The coolness of my tone surprised me. “Thanks,” I added. “For the dinner, I mean.”

  He nodded.

  A moment passed where he just stood by the bed.

  I wondered if he was stalling, but for what? He’d said what he wanted to, and that was that. There was nothing left to say or do but go. So why didn’t he leave?

  Was this one of those moments in life where grand gestures applied? Should I have told him that I didn’t want him to walk away, that I wanted him to stay with me? Is that what he was hoping for?

  If it was, he didn’t get it. I just stared at him.

  Castle walked out.

  Something bad was coming.

  Call it intuition or paranoia, call it whatever you will—but my gut told me.

  Do you remember before all of this, when perhaps you had a job interview in the morning or some awful meeting where you knew you’d be ripped to shreds? Maybe you had class but hadn’t done the readings or the assignments? Whatever it was, the dread plagued us all the same way. When we’d rest our head to pillows come night, our minds would spiral out of control with possible terrible outcomes of the next day’s events.

  That is what I suffered. I slept on the blow-up mattress—but my dreams were fleeting, twisting around dread and paranoia; coiling my stomach into a gurgling pit of nerves.

  Something just wasn’t right.

  My dream told me it was rotters—hordes of them overrunning the shop, trying to recruit all of us. But then it switched; and my nightmares told of a different tale, one that warned me off Zoe—she chased be down corridors and across roads with a baseball bat. And then there was Castle—in all of the dreams I had that night, he was the constant. He was there, in the background, just watching. The emerald stones gleamed from his sun-kissed skin, sucking me into his soul. They grew bigger, glowed brighter, until Castle was no more and I all I faced was a pool of—

  “Winter.” The hoarse whisper snuck into my dream. “Winter, are you up?”

  The voice was followed by the creak of a door. Someone had come into the room.

  As my eyelids fluttered open—too heavy to obey—the inflatable mattress dipped to the side. It was dark in the room; too dark to see the details of the silhouette. But I knew who it was.

  Castle climbed into the bed and pulled the blanket over his legs. Cleo growled and rolled onto her back between us.

  “What’s up?” I whispered. “Is everything ok?”

  His lips parted, but no words came out. Whatever he tried to say died in his throat before it could be voiced. I wondered for a moment what it was like to be so afraid of your own thoughts that you must constantly find the right words to conceal them.

  Castle needed to grow up in that sense. Words were just words. He was too afraid of them.

  “We need to talk,” he said.

  My brows knitted together as I squinted at his shadowed face. Of everything he could’ve said, he’d gone with a cliché.

  Castle moved closer.

  “What I said to you,” he began. “It wasn’t the entire truth.”

  My drowsiness could only afford a groan in response.

  Castle shifted closer again; now all that separated us was the snoring Chihuahua.

  “I don’t want things to change between us.”

  The sound of my heavy sigh filled the room. “It already has.”

  It was the truth—a lot had changed. And I couldn’t help but wonder if what we’d had, however briefly, was just a product of the situation we’d been in. A matter of ‘what if there’s no tomorrow’. The truth is, I don’t know how I felt—because I felt too much at once. It was a tangled ball of yarn inside of me and each string was a contradiction of an
other.

  Castle’s hand found mine on top of Cleo. His fingertips brushed over my knuckles. “I need to know,” he said. “If he comes back, will you go back to him?”

  “I was never with him to begin with,” I groaned. “And he’s dead—”

  “Humour me.” The sharpness of his voice sliced through my words. There was no emotion, no pain or sadness in his voice. It came from his words instead. “If Leo returns, will you choose him?”

  I thought about it. I lay there on the bed, facing Castle, and let my mind dive into the place it shouldn’t have. They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder. I don’t believe that. It’s death that makes it grow fonder. Death, loss and sacrifice. Leo delivered all three to me; my heart couldn’t fit any more of him in.

  “No,” I said. I didn’t believe my own answer. But what did it matter? Leo was gone. “I wouldn’t choose him.”

  Castle leaned forward, his hand slipping behind my head. The touch of lips on mine tickled, like little shocks of electricity. The firmness of Castle was in the kiss; with him it would never be tender. It would be as it was—a kiss. But from Castle, that kiss was the grand gesture he’d wanted from me earlier. The one I didn’t give him.

  I kissed him back.

  I climbed on top of him.

  Castle let me guide him onto the mattress; his hands brushed over my thighs, and I thought—through the cloud of need—that that might be the gentlest way he’s touched me ever.

  I didn’t know what it meant, what any of it meant. Were we shifting back to what we’d almost been and going from there? Or were we lost in a moment that would disappear in time?

  I didn’t know. I paid it little thought.

  I stayed on top of Castle, leaving the doubts to haunt me in the morning.

  ZOE’S UNSOLICITED ADVICE

  ENTRY EIGHTEEN

  The atmosphere between Castle and I was not how I’d predicted. There was awkward tension or shame between us—we had slipped into the place we’d been before the meet-up point.