by L. V Russell
“How many?” I mouthed, as Laphaniel held up two fingers. “Have they seen us?”
He gave a slight shake of his head.
I suddenly felt too hot, even the raindrops from my dripping hair were uncomfortably warm against my skin.
“They’re coming for us?” My voice was a hoarse whisper, panic pushing the words from my mouth in a rush. “It’s too soon….”
“Hush.” Laphaniel breathed, sensing my panic. “Look at me. I need you to trust me.”
“What?” He grabbed at my wrists. “Why?”
“Because I need to keep you safe,” he said, hands tightening as I continued to struggle.
“You’re hurting me,” I hissed “What are you doing? Laphaniel?”
“Stay quiet.”
“Why?” His hand clamped over my mouth, and I realised with sudden horror that he was dragging me towards the coal store. “No…”
“Don’t scream.” His words were a hiss against my cheek as he opened the store, shoving me in even though I fought hopelessly against him. I turned just as he shut the hatch down, plunging me into complete and utter darkness.
Chapter Eight
The dark was absolute. A smothering, suffocating shadow of air that clawed at every part of me, dragging my nightmares back to the surface.
With frantic hands I fumbled over the walls, desperate to find any source of light…a vent…a crack in the stone, anything. My fingers broke through thick webbing, sending their hosts scurrying over my hands and down my arms. I bit down on a scream, sucking up air through gritted teeth as I fought to stay quiet.
The echo of the hatch slamming shut was all I could hear, the desperate look in Laphaniel’s eyes as he tossed me into the darkness, all I could see. It was torment.
I couldn’t hear anything from the cottage, no screams or shouts or sounds of fighting, just silence. Unbearable, unforgiving silence. I couldn’t think of what I would do if it wasn’t him that opened the hatch. I wasn’t sure if I would fight…I didn’t know.
Light flooded in with the creaking of the hatch finally opening, and I recoiled. Wood grated against stone as slick hands reached in and grabbed me. The coppery tang of blood filled my senses, and I choked on a scream.
“It’s not mine. It’s not my blood,” Laphaniel stammered, dragging me close. “Most of it isn’t mine.”
Blood was splattered over his face, his shirt dark with it.
“Are you okay?” I ran my hands over him, “Are you hurt?”
“No, I…”
“Don’t you ever lock me away again!” I hissed, shoving him away. The blind panic began to ebb away. Anger quickly took hold in its place. “Don’t you dare.”
“I was keeping you safe.”
“I had no idea what was happening,” I snapped, “I don’t know what has happened, Laphaniel, because you shoved me in the dark.”
“There were two scouts,” he said through gritted teeth. “Either one of them could have killed you. I did what I thought best, and you can be damn sure I would do it again.”
“Are they dead?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t you walk away from me!” I grabbed his hand, and a snarl rumbled up his throat. The flesh on his palm was blackened and raw. I stared down at it. “This looks like a burn.”
“The knives in the kitchen are steel,” he answered, holding his hand to his chest.
“That needs cleaning.”
He followed me into the cottage without protest and I gaped at the destruction. The table lay shattered in pieces, the chairs broken, shards of glass glinted from the tiles. Blood smeared the walls, red handprints on the tiles, the cabinets and the floor. The fight had been swift and brutal. Violent.
Picking my way over the floor, I turned my gaze to one of the bodies sprawled across the mess. He looked as broken as the furniture around him, with blood seeping into the threadbare rug. His mouth hung open, gaping. The angle of his neck all wrong.
“Teya.”
I heard Laphaniel’s voice behind me but didn’t turn around. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the second faerie lying dead in the kitchen, or from the knife used to slit his throat with such vehemence that it had nearly decapitated him.
“Teya, we need to go,” Laphaniel urged, his good hand tugging at me. “Stop looking at them.”
“I need to fix your hand,” I replied, still focused on the bodies lying on my mum’s kitchen floor.
“It can wait.”
“Sit down!” I almost screamed at him, hysteria bubbling up from somewhere deep inside me.
He looked like he was going to bite back but moved instead to sit on the sofa, while I rummaged in the cupboards until I found a battered first aid box. I perched next to him, dropping coal dust over the faded yellow throw, blood had already seeped into the fabric from where Laphaniel sat.
“Hold your hand out.” I inspected the weeping mess on his palm, wondering how long he had held onto the knife. “This is going to sting.”
He hissed while I rinsed his hand with the ancient bottle of antiseptic, the strong smell drowning out the tang of blood. I applied a burn dressing and bound it tight to keep it clean.
“My mum always loved a well-stocked first aid kit,” I said, running a hand gently over his. “She’d keep a mini one in her handbag too. Sometimes she even bought princess plasters.”
“Are there none in there?”
“I’m afraid not.” My lips lifted into a tight smile, my anger gone, leaving nothing behind but a shaking relief he was okay. With my head resting against the sofa, I blew out a shuddering breath, my nerves frayed. I had no idea if I was shivering because I was cold or in shock. It was likely both.
“We can’t stay here,” Laphaniel said. “Go and grab what you can, then we need to go.”
“To the Unseelie?” I asked, and he nodded. “What if they won’t help us?”
“I don’t know, Teya.”
Laphaniel stood, peeling off his sodden, bloodied shirt. I noted the bruises down his side and the blood that had soaked through to his skin.
“Wait here a minute,” I said, not looking at the bodies as I dashed to the kitchen to run a cloth under some hot water. “Hold still.”
I washed as much blood off him as I could before passing him a clean shirt, my hands lingering for only a moment on his chest.
Laphaniel tugged on the black t-shirt while I changed out of my still damp clothing, quickly rifling through the clothes to find another pair of jeans and a stripy top three sizes too big.
“Black or purple?” I asked, holding up two faded hoodies.
Laphaniel held out a hand. “Black.”
“But the purple matches your eyes.”
He gave me a tired smile before he plucked the black hoodie from my hands.
“What about the bodies?”
“Leave them,” he said, then held a hand up before I could say anything. “Did you hear that?”
“I didn’t hear anything.”
Laphaniel’s body tensed as he walked towards the window. “Hounds.”
“Dogs?” Panic rose up like a tide when I saw his eyes widen. “What is it?”
“A Huntsman,” Laphaniel said, backing away and ushering me out of the kitchen. “A mercenary. Luthien paid someone a very high price to get to you.”
“What do we do?”
“Run,” he said, shoving me out of the cottage. “Now! Go.”
Laphaniel grabbed my hand as we fled the cottage, the sounds of braying hounds finally reaching my ears. We tore down the garden, skidding on the rain-drenched grass. I clung to his hand as he sprinted down the winding coastal path, our feet crunching the stones.
His strides were longer, and my legs practically skipped to keep up with him. My breath gasped from my lips in freezing clouds. From behind us, I heard the echo of the dogs, the sound of heavy hoofbeats. We could never outrun a man on horseback.
“Where are we going?” I shouted, my voice ragged.
“The harbour,�
�� he yelled back, pulling me on as I fought to keep up with him. “I’m hoping there’s a warehouse or something we can hide in. I need to think.”
“And if there isn’t?”
“I’m not really thinking that far ahead, Teya.”
I stopped dead, grasping his arm as he spun around to face me. “We’ll be just like cornered rats!”
“Have you ever cornered a rat?” he snapped, face wild. “We need to get up high and away from the hounds. Keep moving.”
He didn’t give me time to argue before he dragged me on, his grip around my hand unforgiving as we pounded the damp Cornish streets. Cries of outrage followed us as we shoved past people, all seemingly deaf to the howls of dogs and the stomp of hooves. Their ignorance was unbelievable and infuriating, making it much easier to elbow them out of the way.
We tore around corners, down narrow alleyways and over fencing. Laphaniel bent low to shove me up and over the high chain-link before he vaulted over with the nimbleness of a wild cat. My hands stung from the cold, sharp metal, my feet smarting from landing on the hard ground.
Laphaniel landed beside me, using his hoodie as a barrier between the top of the fence and his hands so he didn’t touch the steel.
“Okay?”
“Yes,” I replied. “Don’t fuss, keep going.”
The tang of saltwater and fish intensified as we neared the harbourside, the neat, well-kept buildings that had dotted the seafront replaced with crumbling industrial units, many falling beyond repair as the little town lost its fishing heritage and made way for tourists.
Graffiti stained most sides of the concrete maze we had entered, a flash of bright paint amongst the grey. Homeless people squatted in the doorways, huddled beneath damp blankets, sharing bottles of clear liquid and watching us with vacant, uncaring eyes.
“Up here,” Laphaniel urged, leading me to a building that looked like a stiff breeze would blow it down.
I followed him in, coughing at the smell of dank and mould that hit my face. Glass lay scattered across the floor, every window smashed to pieces, so the cold wind blew through, disturbing the thick dust that coated everything,
Blankets lay abandoned in the corner, covered in mould and stagnant rainwater. Broken bottles caught the meagre light, discarded needles nestled between the glass shards. The place reeked of hopelessness and pain.
The staircase was rotten, the wood splintered and peeling, the banister long since gone, likely pulled off to be used for firewood. Laphaniel tested a foot on the lowest step; it creaked and bowed, and the entire building seemed to shake with his weight.
“I think it’ll hold,” he said, climbing up, outstretching a hand to me.
“You think? It’s a long way to fall if you’re wrong.”
“Fine. I am pretty sure it will hold, now hurry up.”
I clambered up behind him, the staircase swaying beneath the both of us, pieces of damp decaying wood crumbling off under my feet. The brackets holding it to the wall were rusted and useless, straining against the walls and threatening to give way with each hesitant step I made.
Laphaniel grabbed me on the last step, hauling me up as the doors below us smashed open, sending a pack of hounds tearing around the ground floor. My shout rebounded off the walls, mingling with the howls of the dogs below as they started towards the stairs. Laphaniel dragged me out of the way, ignoring my hiss of pain when he caught my foot and jumped down on the middle step, shattering the wood on impact. He sprang backward just as the staircase crumbled and collapsed, sending debris smashing to the floor below. Laphaniel caught the overhang by his fingertips, dangling while I crouched with my mouth open in frozen terror.
He scrabbled on the ledge, the dogs below us jumping and snarling as he dangled over them. I dragged him up by his shirt, hauling him over the ledge by his belt, where he fell against me with a breathless gasp.
“You cannot escape me,” a deep voice boomed. “I am coming for you.”
“Perhaps,” Laphaniel called back. “But, your dogs are not.”
The laugh that followed was chilling. “My hounds will chew your insides, boy. I will have you begging for death, and you will die, that I promise you, though not before you watch while I ruin that pretty whore of yours.”
“Laphaniel…” His name was a desperate plea against my lips, my fingers a frantic pull at his shirt. He turned, his eyes so black that I startled.
“Go!” he said. “To the top…trust me.”
I did as I was told, numbly, running beside him as we climbed four more sets of stairs that had aged better and were clinging to the walls with determination. There was no way we would be able to stop the huntsman from following us up. We ended up in an old loft room, filled with abandoned pieces of ancient machinery that had been left to rust, the coppery smell mingled with the lingering stench of must and urine, making my eyes sting.
A thick length of rope trailed across the floor, a heavy and rusted old hook tied to one end, the remnants of an old winch used to haul heavy sacks up to the storeroom. Empty sacks lay deflated, chew marks splitting the greying fabric. Ancient piping lay broken and rusted, orange flakes seeping into the decaying floorboards.
“There’s nothing up here,” I said, spinning around to face Laphaniel. He staggered, bracing himself against the wall before slipping to his knees. I scanned the dank corners in a pointless search for an exit. I was hoping for a fire escape…a window…anything that would lead us back outside.
I was hoping for anything more than nothing.
Chapter Nine
Laphaniel shoved himself up from the floor, swaying slightly. I caught his elbow whilst frantically looking around for something to pick up.
“Don’t touch anything,” I said, grabbing a piece of piping from the floor. One end glimmered a metallic orange, the rust crumbling off in my hands. Laphaniel backed away, his sleeve covering his nose and mouth.
The door splintered open with a howl of rage, and I spun quickly, crashing the pipe down upon the Huntsman.
He screamed, the flesh on his cheek sizzling. I swung again, but his armoured hand shot out, viper quick to clout me across the face. I sprawled hard onto the floor.
Darkness flickered at the edge of my vision, but I could just make out his face, scarred and hideous, greasy black hair clung to his face, one eye nothing but a drooping grey orb. Rank breath hit me, warm and wet.
“Scream for me.” A heavy boot pressed against my stomach.
My hand fumbled for the pipe, fear making my fingers numb. I braced myself as the Huntsman raised his fist again. Laphaniel slammed against him, sending them sprawling to the floor and away from me.
Wielding the pipe, I brought it down hard, aiming for the Huntsman’s head. Metal smacked against the wooden floor when he rolled, sending up sparks of rust. Both faeries cringed, Laphaniel hissed, the sound feral.
The Huntsman snarled, backing away with unsteady feet. Blood dribbled from his cheek in an angry smear.
“Think you’re clever, girl?” He spat a mouthful of blood and spittle at my feet, grinning while he drew his sword.
I didn’t move fast enough as he slashed out, and the edge of his blade struck the pipe in my hands. It crashed to the floor and skidded away. He lifted the sword again, twisting to Laphaniel.
The floorboards splintered when I launched myself at him, throwing him forwards. The rotting wood crumbled beneath us, swallowing up the sword, so it crashed to the floor far below us.
Laphaniel grabbed me before I slipped down, dragging me away. My cry of warning came too late, lost as the Huntsman came up behind him, kicking him with so much force across the head that he skidded to the edge of the room.
His name tore frantic from my lungs, but Laphaniel lay motionless a few feet away from me. I slipped further, flinching as heavy boots hovered close to my hands. The Huntsman crouched over me, enjoying my struggle. His grin was a filthy slash on his face. Thick hands caught mine, holding me over the gaping hole.
“Do you
know how many pieces I could carve you into and still keep you alive?” he said, words slurring. “I could let you count if you want?”
I was frozen in his grip; the stench of blood and bile on his breath made my stomach lurch. The creamy white of his scarred eye rolled in its socket, the other fixed on me. He grinned, tongue lashing over his teeth, and forced one of my fingers back until it cracked.
“Ten fingers,” he began, while I flinched. “Two eyes. I’m going to peel the skin from your bones. I’m going to feed it to your lover, then I’m going to feed him to my dogs.”
“Luthien wants me alive,” I bit back with much more bravado than I felt.
“I never said I was going to kill you,” the Huntsman began, lowering me back onto the floor. “Just break you…”
A choking gasp cut off the rest of his words. Laphaniel sprang from the shadows, twisting the huge rope around the Huntsman’s neck before yanking it tight. His grip on the rope was relentless. They scrabbled with each other, the rope knotting around them. The massive hook at the end scraped along the wooden planks, catching and cracking the wood before lodging onto the ancient framework.
“Laphaniel, move!” I hurled myself at him, skidding as I reached for his hand. The floor beneath them shattered. Laphaniel’s hand was torn from mine as he fell, the rope racing after them in a flurry of broken wood and dust. The hook held with a screech of metal. There was a soft grunt when the rope went taut, then nothing.
My feet skidded from under me as I raced down the stairs to the floor below. The rope had stopped about twenty feet above the floor, swaying with the weight of the bodies wrapped up in it.
The Huntsman’s eyes were open and bulging, his head lolling against his shoulder as he swung back and forth, back and forth like the pendulum on a macabre cuckoo clock.
“Cut the rope!”
My breath whooshed from my mouth so fast my head spun, the sound of his voice flooding me with a relief that nearly floored me. The rope hadn’t caught around Laphaniel’s neck, instead, looped around his chest to pin one arm behind him at a crippling angle.