Evanescent

by Gabriella Lepore

  The voice spoke again, this time with a trace of irritation. “That’s a rather impudent question,” it remarked. “You’re in my home. I think a more fitting question would be who are you?”

  “My name is Bronwen Snow,” she called back, frantically trying to trace the voice.

  “Well, Bronwen Snow, please leave,” the voice replied. “And close the door behind you. I don’t want any more strays wandering in, looking for scraps.”

  “I’m looking for Felix Cavara,” Bronwen blurted out.

  There was a brief pause before the voice returned to her. “Felix is not here. Goodbye.”

  Bronwen cemented her feet firmly to the ground. She’d made it this far, and she wasn’t about to back down now. “When will he be back?”

  “Never.”

  “But this is where I was told I’d find him.”

  “You must have mistaken the address,” the voice said condolingly. “You see, I am here alone. Always have been, always will be. Hint, hint.”

  Mistaken the address? Bronwen frowned. This is hardly number ten, Anywhere Street.

  “Please,” she tried again. “It’s important.”

  There was another silence, followed by the vague sound of muttering. And Bronwen was sure she heard more than one voice this time. She picked up the tenor of a much younger boy saying the words ‘ask her…’ and ‘…business.’

  Then the speaker addressed her again. “State your business.”

  “I’m here to see Felix Cavara.”

  “Yes, we already know that,” the voice sighed. “In regards to what?”

  “We?” Bronwen echoed. “I thought you said you were alone.”

  “Uh… I am. I meant we in the universal sense. The collective we.”

  Bronwen frowned again.

  “Anyway,” the voice moved on swiftly, “stop avoiding the question. What business do you have with Felix? Or Lord Felix, as he is better known.”

  There was a snort from somewhere else on the upper level.

  Bronwen gazed up at the empty balcony. “I’m not sure, exactly,” she admitted.

  “You’re not sure? You trespass into people’s homes at this ungodly hour for reasons you’re unsure of?”

  “I’m being hunted,” Bronwen told him.

  Another pause. “What does that have to do with me?” The voice hastily cleared its throat. “Of course, by me, I am referring to the collective me.”

  “I’m not sure. But I have a letter.” She waved the crumpled envelope skyward. “I’m supposed to give this to him.”

  “A letter?” All of a sudden, the voice sounded marginally intrigued.

  Then, in the shadows of the balcony, Bronwen saw a shape rise to full height. The silhouette of a boy. He gripped the rails and leapt over the barrier, dropping down into the courtyard below. He landed with a pounce, unaffected by the steep fall.

  Bronwen gasped.

  The boy strolled towards her until he was just inches away. Strands of dark hair swept over his brow, and his striking features were lit by the gentle flicker of the oil lamps. He wore a slightly creased shirt with black trousers and braces attached to the belt. His clothes were dated, and although he stood with the bearing and confidence of someone powerful, by the look of him, he couldn’t have been much older than seventeen.

  “May I see?” he purred, extending his hand towards the letter.

  Bronwen clutched the envelope to her chest. “It’s for Felix.”

  “I am Felix,” he said. “Congratulations, you’ve found me.”

  Bronwen took a step backwards. “You’re Felix? That’s not what you said a minute ago,” she challenged. Actually, she’d expected Felix to be… well, older.

  “Yes, but that was when I was trying to get rid of you. Now I want my letter.” He held out his palm steadily.

  Bronwen tensed. What choice did she have? Grudgingly, she handed over the letter.

  Without missing a beat, Felix tore the envelope and tossed it over his shoulder. He hastily unfolded the note and began reading. At first his expression was one of mild interest, but then he paused and looked up at Bronwen with a smirk.

  “You are Bronwen Snow?” he asked, waving the letter at her.

  “Yes,” she replied.

  “And you want me to protect you?”

  “I…” So that was what the letter had said? “I don’t know.”

  Felix laughed. “Are you quite mad?” His eyes twinkled in amusement, glowing as red as the oil lamps’ flames.

  “I’m starting to think so,” Bronwen muttered.

  “In all my years I’ve never seen anything so…” he grinned down at the letter, “absurd.” Then, glancing back to the balcony, he yelled at the top of his lungs, “Alistair!”

  Bronwen furrowed her brow. Alistair?

  There was a clang of metal, and a second boy leapt down into the courtyard. This boy was tall and slender, with fair hair and a meekness to his posture. He stepped cautiously forward and took the letter from Felix. All the while, Felix kept his eyes fixed on Bronwen, smiling darkly.

  Another clink of metal came from above, and a third boy jumped over the railing. He was younger than the other two—perhaps eleven or twelve, Bronwen guessed—with a small, wispy build and a grubby face. He trotted over to them.

  “Let me see!” he exclaimed, standing on his tiptoes to peer over Alistair’s shoulder.

  Bronwen recognised his voice from the balcony. He was the younger speaker she’d heard.

  “Quiet, Loki,” Felix scolded him. Then he turned to Bronwen. “Well, thank you so much for dropping by, Snow. It’s been a delight. Now, if there’s nothing more—”

  “Felix,” Alistair interrupted. “Have you read it?”

  Felix glanced at him. “Evidently, yes.”

  “All of it?” Alistair asked.

  “Yes.” He paused. “There abouts.”

  “I think you should read it.” Alistair handed the letter back to him.

  “Let me see!” Loki protested. He moved to Felix’s shoulder; only a tuft of sandy blonde hair was visible behind Felix’s shirt collar.

  “Blah, blah, blah…” Felix skimmed the page. “Foreseen the fate of my granddaughter… et cetera, et cetera…” All of a sudden, his expression turned stony. “Is it true?” he demanded, meeting Bronwen’s eyes with a furious intensity.

  “That depends,” she replied warily. “What does it say?”

  “Who gave this to you?” he demanded.

  “Ada Snow. My grandmother.”

  “Do you trust her?”

  There was that question again. “Yes,” she answered.

  “You trust her with your life?” Felix shot back.

  Bronwen didn’t need to think about it. “Yes.”

  “Good. Because that’s precisely what you’re about to do. If she doesn’t hold true to her word, then your life is exactly what it’ll cost.” He thrust the letter into Bronwen’s hands, and without another word he and Alistair strode across the courtyard towards the stone staircase.

  Loki shot Bronwen a careful look before following the other boys to the staircase.

  And as Loki trailed upstairs after Alistair, Felix hovered on the bottom step.

  “Well then, Snow?” he prompted Bronwen. “Are you coming or not?” He fixed her with a wolf-like smile.

  Bronwen looked down at the paper, which was filled with the familiar scrawl of her grandmother’s handwriting.

  Felix Cavara, it read…

  I write to you in my most desperate hour, asking for your help. I have foreseen the fate of my granddaughter, Bronwen Snow. She is being followed, marked by a hunter who seeks her blood. In my visions they call it the Severan.

  Felix, I know who you are and I know what you’re capable of. You’re the only one who can protect her, so I beg you to do so. What I can offer you in exchange is a secret that I have kept for many years. It is the answer to your despair, shown to me in a dream—shown for the purpose of this very moment, to offer to you fo
r my granddaughter’s life.

  You believe that the cure to your curse died along with the witch, Margo Bates, but I know of another way. When the Severan is no more, I will reward you.

  Yours faithfully,

  Ada Snow.

  Chapter Two

  Straight for the Jugular

  Bronwen followed Felix up the stone staircase. It led to the upper balcony, which was nothing more than a snaking corridor with railings on one side and a red stone wall on the other. A succession of wooden doors ran along the wall until they looped around into the darkness.

  Felix stopped at the first door. “This is our living quarters,” he said, gesturing to the closed door. “This is where we’ll be.” He reached for the handle. “Goodnight.”

  “Wait!” Bronwen cried. “What about me?” She clung to Ada’s note, the message still painfully fresh in her mind.

  Felix glanced along the corridor. “I suppose you can choose from one of the other rooms,” he said with a weary sigh. “But please try not to move anything. Or touch anything, if it can be avoided.”

  Bronwen followed his gaze. The railing cast barred shadows across the floor.

  “You mean, that way?” she asked.

  Felix nodded. “That is the way, yes.”

  The wind howled in the courtyard below, and a strong gust rattled the balcony railing and whipped at Bronwen’s long brown hair.

  She exhaled nervously. “What if this thing attacks during the night?”

  “It may do just that,” Felix mused. “Hunters are nocturnal, after all.”

  “And if it finds me?”

  “Then my deepest sympathies will be with you,” Felix replied.

  Bronwen flinched.

  “Deep breaths, Snow!” Felix laughed. “Suffice it to say you’re hidden here. And if this thing sets foot on our land, then I’m quite sure we’ll know about it long before it knows about you.”

  Bronwen opened her mouth to protest, but Felix pressed his index finger to her lips.

  “Goodnight,” he whispered, opening the door and backing into the room. “Don’t let the hunters bite…” he smiled wickedly. “And don’t break anything,” he added.

  Bronwen watched as the door closed behind him. Now, alone in the dark corridor, she felt a familiar heave in her stomach.

  What am I doing here? she thought helplessly.

  She peered along the corridor, following the shadows with her eyes as they bent and curved along with passageway. And still she found herself glued to the spot, unable to take a single step forward.

  All of a sudden, a bat darted from the ceiling and shot out into the open courtyard.

  Bronwen ducked, covering her head with both hands until the flutter of wings faded into the distance.

  “Bats,” she said in a small voice. She tapped on the door to the boys’ living quarters.

  After a few seconds, the door opened. Felix stood in the gap, feigning surprise. “Back so soon, Snow? To what do we owe the pleasure?”

  “Bats,” she said.

  “Small winged things. Anything else I can help you with?”

  “You’ve got bats,” she amended. “Here. In the castle.”

  “Yes, I am aware.”

  Bronwen fumbled with her duffel bag as it slipped down her shoulder. “Right,” she said. “Well, I thought you’d want to know.”

  “Wonderful. Will that be all?” Felix hovered in the doorway, gradually allowing the gap to close.

  “Bathroom?” she asked.

  “Third door along.”

  “Okay…” Subtly, she snuck her foot into the doorway, holding the door ajar. “Is there anything else I need to know? What about rules? Do you have any house rules that I should know about?”

  Felix stared at her obstructing foot. “I like to think sleeping at night is a good rule. And no talking is always a favourite of mine.”

  “Okay. Anything else? It’s best if I know. I wouldn’t want to be any trouble.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Colour me shocked.”

  Bronwen peered over his shoulder into the warm glow of the chamber behind him.

  Noticing her wandering gaze, Felix angled himself to block her view. He exaggerated a yawn. “I’ll bid you goodnight, then.”

  “Wait!”

  “There’s more?” he guessed warily.

  She peered over his shoulder again.

  Felix pinched the bridge of his nose. “Stay there,” he sighed. He used the toe of his shoe to nudge her foot away, then closed the door with a reverberating thud.

  Bronwen stood patiently in the corridor, her hands clasped together anxiously.

  Moments later, the door opened and Felix reappeared. “We have agreed that, just for tonight, you may join us in our quarters.” He frowned, less than pleased by his invitation.

  In return, Bronwen tried not to show her relief. “Okay. If you think that’s best.”

  He opened the door wider and motioned for her to follow him.

  When she stepped into the room, the sight made her stop in her tracks. It was as though the door had been a portal into a separate house entirely—a house that had been compacted into a single enormous room. The room itself was imposing, with a domed ceiling, a long table running through the centre, and a huge fireplace at the far end. Directly before Bronwen, a row of tall windows looked out over the moonlit hills. Each window was fixed with its own narrow alcove indented into the wall.

  At the crackling fire, four throne-like chairs stood, two on either side. Loki and Alistair sat in chairs beside one another, chewing on chunks of bread. When Bronwen walked in, they stopped eating and stared at her with a mixture of dread and wonder.

  Bronwen set her duffel bag against the wall. At once the heat of the fire began to warm her cold skin. She ventured a little farther.

  “What are they?” she asked, eyeing the narrow alcoves that were tucked away beneath the lead-framed windows. In each individual alcove, the floor space had been piled high with bedding.

  Felix pointed to the first alcove. “Loki,” he said, then moved his index finger to the next. “Alistair.” Then, pointing to the last heap of blankets, he said, “Me.” There were two more alcoves, but instead of blankets was the normal green carpeted floor, which spread like moss throughout the room.

  Bronwen frowned. “But you have this whole castle to yourselves, don’t you?”

  “We do,” Felix replied. “Or we did, until about half an hour ago.”

  “And you all sleep in here? On the floor?”

  “Yes, and yes.”

  Loki took a bite of bread. “We prefer to stay together,” he explained. “Just in case we need to discuss anything during the night.”

  “Which we often do,” Alistair added. “We tried separate bedrooms once before, but all it achieved was a great deal of shouting to and fro.”

  Felix strolled to the fireplace. He took the chair closest to the fire, opposite Alistair, and began warming his hands over the flames. Amber blazes danced around his fingers and licked his palms, but he showed no discomfort.

  “You can sit,” he said to Bronwen, his eyes still fixed on the fire.

  The other two boys watched for her reaction.

  Like a deer in the headlights, Bronwen made her way across the hollow room. She sat down in the empty chair beside Felix and smiled nervously.

  “Are you hungry?” Loki asked, breaking off a portion of his bread with his grubby hands. He offered it to her.

  Bronwen politely took it from him and nibbled at the crust.

  As she chewed on a mouthful, Loki watched her expectantly.

  What does he want? Bronwen wondered. She tried to avoid eye contact, but Loki continued to stare.

  “Can I see it?” he asked at last.

  She held up the bread.

  “No,” Loki said and shook his head, matted blonde locks flopping over his eyes. “I meant the letter. Can I look?”

  “Oh.” Bronwen dug into her jeans pocket. “Of course.” She handed
him the crumpled paper and he began reading fervently.

  “What’s this word?” Loki asked, waving the letter in front of Alistair. “Viss-eye-ons,” he sounded it out.

  “Visions,” Alistair corrected.

  “Oh.” Loki read on. “And this one?” He passed the letter back to Alistair.

  “Severan,” Alistair told him.

  “What’s a Severan?”

  Bronwen stiffened. Good question, she thought.

  “I can’t be sure,” Alistair admitted. “By the sound of it, it’s some kind of tracker. Probably a low-level one if we haven’t heard of it.”

  “What does it want with me?” Bronwen asked meekly.

  They all stared at her.

  “Hard to say,” Felix answered vaguely. “It must have picked up your scent somehow. Trouble is, once one of those has your scent, it’s a hell of a job trying to get it to let go.”

  Bronwen’s stomach flipped. “So it’s an animal?”

  “No. Not exactly an animal,” Felix replied. “If it requires our help, then I’d imagine it would have been human at some point.” He paused. “Or parts of it would have been, anyhow.”

  “Like us, then,” Loki chipped in.

  “Exactly.”

  Like us? A chill ran down Bronwen’s spine. “Are you saying that parts of you aren’t…” she trailed off.

  Felix grinned. “That depends on what parts you’re asking after, Snow.”

  But Bronwen didn’t smile. She stared at the letter in Loki’s hands. “Ada wrote about a curse,” she murmured, recounting the words she’d read. “Your curse.”

  The atmosphere shifted, and the fizz and crackle of the fire was suddenly deafening in the new hush.

  “Yes,” Felix said at last, his voice slow and careful. “That is correct.”

  “What are you cursed with?” she asked.

  “Don’t hold back now,” Felix teased. “Go straight for the jugular!”

  “Sorry,” Bronwen said quickly. “I didn’t mean to… It’s just that this is all so new to me. A few hours ago my biggest problem was whether or not I’d sleep, and now…”

  Felix swapped a private look with Alistair, who nodded in return.

  “Tell me, Snow,” Felix began, “do you know what it means to be alive?”