by Darcy Coates
He passed her the key. Her throat tightened as she wrapped her hand around the small fob. She realised, with a shock, it was the first time she’d held a personal possession since arriving at Winterbourne. Everything had been borrowed: the clothes, the shoes, and the food. She supposed that would change now. She had her luggage downstairs—two cases that now encapsulated the entirety of her life.
But the keys meant more than that. She lifted her gaze to meet Dorran’s. “Do you think we can get it to start?”
“I’m afraid it’s almost certainly dead. While I stood guard, I looked into the engine. I was hoping I could repair it, but I am not familiar with the system. It is more complex than what I know.”
“I guess your family still uses mechanical cars, whereas mine is full of digital parts.”
“That seems to be the case. But it is not a lost cause. Behind the house is a shed where our cars are stored outside of use. The cars themselves are all gone—taken when my family left for the Gould estate—but there is an engine I was toying with. If we can transplant the engine into your car, we may be able to get it to run.”
“If we could…” Clare rubbed the back of her neck. If they could, then Beth would no longer be unreachable. She bit her lip. “This is just a theory, but I think the masks might have protected us. Not just from the attack, but before, as well. I couldn’t see your face through the mesh. The hollows wouldn’t have been able to, either, and I think that was why they waited so long to attack.”
“You might be right,” Dorran said. “We had covered all of our skin. The hollow that watched us move the supplies out of the car—did you see how it looked at us? It was curious.”
“Exactly.” Clare was growing more confident in her theory. “All of the other hollows—the ones in the house and the forest—they either looked hungry or afraid. Never curious.”
“So the masks may have sheltered us—for a stretch. But the creatures are starving. You saw how they descended on the hollow we killed. Even his bones were broken and consumed. After that, they lost all control.”
Clare agreed. “Like an animal that becomes so hungry that it ignores every other instinct. Maybe killing that first hollow pushed the rest into a frenzy.”
“But even if they do not protect us completely, the masks should at least buy us some time. That will help.” Dorran nodded to himself. “The journey will be dangerous, but not unachievable. We would need to find a way to keep the garden stable while we are away. And we would need part of our fuel reserves for the car. But if you are prepared to take a risk, I am, as well.”
“Yes.” Clare’s heart felt painfully full. The radio stood on the shelf, turned on but its volume kept low to muffle the static. She wished she could talk to Beth, to tell her what they were thinking, to tell her they were coming.
“I will see about the engine tomorrow—and see what it might need to be compatible with your car.”
“Thank you.”
The gap between their chairs was narrow, but Clare reached between it to be closer to Dorran. He took her hand. They sat in silence, drinking their wine as they watched the fire. When Clare glanced towards her companion, she thought he looked the happiest she had ever seen him. Dorran wasn’t the kind of person to grin or pose. But a small, content smile curved his lips, and his heavy-lidded eyes were bright. He ran his thumb over Clare’s fingers. His happiness was infectious. When Clare fell asleep that night, she was almost comfortable enough to ignore the scratching in the walls.
Chapter Twelve
Clare hadn’t thought it was possible to be as stiff as she was. Every time she moved her arms, the muscles ached, running from her shoulder blades down to her hands.
Light came through the gauzy curtains to flow across the wallpaper. She’d slept in late. Clare sat up in bed, groaning under her breath, and blinked sleep out of her eyes. Dorran’s half of the bed was empty. A bowl on the bedside table was covered with a plate to retain its heat, and a small note, written in ink, was poised on top.
I will be back soon. Wait for me. Love, D.
“Seriously? You don’t let me wander around the house alone.” Clare grumbled as she threw the blankets aside and slipped sore feet into her boots. “Double standards.”
She touched the bowl’s side. It was still warm. He couldn’t have gone far. A faint worry that he might have left for the shed alone—ventured outside, where she couldn’t protect him if anything went wrong—tightened Clare’s chest. She tied her hair back as she tried to quiet her mind. Dorran was stubborn, but he wasn’t stupid. He wouldn’t step into a situation that risky without at least telling her. More likely, he had gone to water the garden or unpack their new supplies.
Still, Clare’s mind continued to buzz. She ignored the food and crossed to the door as she pulled on her coat. The house felt strangely quiet. She paused on the hallway landing, squinting in each direction, trying to read the shadows that clung to the walls.
A door slammed, and Clare jolted. She clenched her teeth as she looked towards the stairs. The sound had come from the floor below.
It’s just Dorran. Probably.
She stepped back inside the bedroom. The fire poker rested beside the chairs, where she had left it the previous evening. Clare took it up and returned to the halls.
The stairs carried her downwards, and she moved carefully to keep her footsteps silent. The second floor was bitterly dark except for one hall: a single lit candle had been positioned on one of the tables clustered along the walls. There was no sign of Dorran. At the end of the hallway, a curtain blocked out the window. Some additional light would make her feel safer. She licked her lips, glancing into the twisting darkness behind her, then began edging towards the window.
“Dorran?” Her voice cracked, and she regretted the word as soon as it left her. It wasn’t wise to advertise her position in case something less friendly lurked in the halls.
Dorran rarely left her alone in the manor. She’d taken it for granted until that morning, but all of a sudden, Clare was aware of how vulnerable she was. She swung the metal bar at her side, her pulse harsh. The walls seemed to be closing in around her, squeezing.
She could return to her room. But that would still leave Dorran out in the house somewhere, in just as much danger as she was. Clare bit the inside of her cheek and moved to the window in three long steps. She grasped a handful of the material dampening the light and pulled it aside.
The ethereal white fields were obscured by ice crusting across the panes. Clare could faintly make out her own reflection. The candle glowed behind her, meagre and flickering as a gust of cold air blew across it. Something else moved in the reflection. A tall creature, stepping through a gap in the hallway walls, its bulging, hairless head tilting as it stared at Clare.
She gasped and swung, bringing the crowbar around as she turned. The metal whistled through the air but missed its mark as the figure ducked. Clare staggered with momentum, dropped the crowbar, and pressed her hand over her pounding heart. “Dorran!”
He pulled off the fencing mask, his eyes wild. They stared at each other for a second, then he broke into laughter. “I am so sorry, my dear. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Clare closed the distance between them and pressed her hands to his chest, checking he was really there. “I couldn’t see your face—I thought you were a hollow. I could have really hurt you—”
He lay his hands on top of hers as he smiled down. “I sometimes forget how fierce you can be. What are you doing outside of your room? Didn’t you see my note?”
She narrowed her eyes, relief barely tempering the frustration. “What am I doing out here? What about you?” Over his shoulder, she noticed an open door in the panelled wood. “Were you seriously going into the passageways alone?”
“I know you do not like them. I thought I could get ahead on the work and seal some of the doors near our room.” He shrugged. “It is safer now that I have the mask.”
“That doesn’t matter. We’re suppo
sed to do this together. You should have at least woken me so I knew where you were going. Or written it on the note. Or something. What if you went missing? I wouldn’t even know where to look for you.”
No matter what she said, he refused to look chastised. A small smile curled over his mouth, and his dark eyes were filled with something Clare couldn’t quite pinpoint. She squinted at him, a challenge. “What?”
“You are so beautiful.”
She resented the way heat flowed over her face. “Don’t think you can sweet talk your way out of this.”
He laughed. His thumb grazed along her jaw, then he ducked in to steal a kiss. Clare was caught off guard but closed her eyes to savour the touch. Warm lips, nuanced and tender, explored hers. He made a faint, happy noise in the back of his throat, then his nose grazed her cheek as he reluctantly pulled away.
“Don’t think you can kiss your way out of this, either,” she mumbled, but the frustration had drained from her. It was hard to stay angry at Dorran when he was so intently affectionate.
“Of course not. I promise I am thoroughly repentant.” Dorran’s eyes were bright as he lightly pulled on her hand, leading her back towards the stairs. As he passed the open door, he nudged it closed, sealing off the dark cavern within.
“Did anything bother you?” Clare asked.
“No. No sign of anything.” He looked more relaxed than Clare could have felt if she’d been inside the passageways. “I managed to close three doors near our room, so as long as there are none that I missed, we will have bought ourselves a shade more protection. The creatures will have to travel through the main hallways if they wish to reach us.”
Clare had to admit it was a nice feeling. They didn’t have complete security, and probably wouldn’t for a while, but it was a relief to know she would at least see the hollows coming in that part of the house.
As they moved onto the stairs, Clare asked, “Did you want to keep on with the passageways? I can help this time. Beth will be calling in about an hour. Or we could have an early lunch and maybe spend some time in the garden.”
He stretched, flexing his back muscles. “Or we could visit the shed behind the property and look for our motor.”
“Really?” She hadn’t expected him to be so ready to step outside after the previous day.
“It is directly behind the house. Not far to walk. And not as risky as the forest.” He opened the door to their room and let Clare enter ahead of him. “If we are able to bring the motor inside, I can check it to make sure it will work. The weather is likely to stay erratic. We might have a limited window of time to reach your sister, and I want to be prepared.”
“All right. I’m game if you are.”
He found the untouched breakfast on the bedside table and pressed it into her hands. “Or… consider this. You could stay inside, where it’s warm, and keep lookout for me.”
She lifted her eyebrows.
Dorran sighed. “I knew it would not work. But you cannot blame me for trying. Very well, eat first, then we will make the trip while the sun is nearing its zenith and the weather is calm.”
Clare finished the breakfast in a hurry while Dorran marked his progress on the maps, folded them, and tucked them away in the drawers. Before they left the bedroom, Clare collected the radio. She wouldn’t let herself miss Beth’s call for a second day in a row. She checked the batteries were still good then tucked it under her arm as they went downstairs.
Her luggage waited in the foyer. Dorran had removed the food and locked it in their room, where it would be protected from any hollows roving the house. He’d left everything else, though, and Clare knelt to sort through the cases.
She had to laugh. The final morning in her old home had been so rushed that she’d barely paid attention to what she packed. The stash included shorts and blouses, which would be too light to keep her warm in Winterbourne. The day she left had been a mild autumn morning, she remembered, and her closet had still been full of thin, comfy clothes. But the bag also included shoes, which meant she would finally have some that fit her well, and underwear. She had never felt completely comfortable wearing another woman’s.
The batteries would be invaluable, and she set the packs on the side table where they would be within easy reach. The box also included two books she’d grabbed off the shelf as a last-minute bid for entertainment. One was a thriller she’d already read twice. The other was a dusty, never-used reference book. It wasn’t the best selection, but that didn’t matter. Winterbourne had vast libraries. The books were all from the nineteenth century or earlier, but she didn’t mind classic fiction.
“That’s pretty,” Dorran said.
Clare looked down at the gauzy, floral print top she held. She felt herself turning pink as she folded it back into the bag. “Not much use here.”
“Keep it. We don’t know when the weather will warm up again.”
The house was so cold that it was hard to imagine spring would ever come, but Clare tucked the lighter clothes away neatly. Even if she couldn’t wear them, it felt good to have some of her own possessions, even just a handful.
It feels as though we’re clawing back our lives an inch at a time. We have shelter. We have food. Soon, once the passages are sealed, we’ll have safety. And maybe even transport…
Beth’s warning echoed in the back of her mind. The heroes are dying. If you want to survive, don’t take risks. She frowned and pushed the thought aside. It wasn’t as though they wanted to drive across the country; they were just going to retrieve Beth. And for Clare, that counted as a necessity.
Chapter Thirteen
They went through their routine of strapping on layers of clothes. Dorran promised the walk to the shed would take less than a minute, but he didn’t let her skimp on her protection. “The shed doors have remained shut, so I expect it to be empty,” he said as he checked her gloves were tucked in place, “but I still want to err towards caution.”
They picked up the snowshoes and fencing masks. Clare used her elbow to knock out the dents in hers. It left the mesh’s once-smooth curves wavy, but it was better than nothing.
Instead of opening the front door, Dorran led Clare deeper into the building. They followed a route she hadn’t seen before, and the narrowing passages and bare stone walls told her they had entered the staff’s quarters. A minute later, they stepped into a near-empty storage room with a thick metal door. Frost spread out from the door’s edges, crusting over parts of the rough stone and freezing the hinges. Dorran nodded to Clare. She tucked the radio into one of the folds of her jacket then pulled on the mask. He undid the door’s bolt and leaned back to use his weight to wrench it open.
The door shuddered as rusted hinges were forced to move. Specks of snow shot through the entrance and swirled over the benches and floor. The snowdrifts hadn’t grown so high at the house’s back, and Dorran used a shovel to beat them down to something they could climb over.
Through the opening, Clare could make out large blocky buildings hunched in the field of white. Beyond them, the dark ribbon that marked the forest’s edge stretched into the distance. Snow fell, but at least it wasn’t a storm.
They latched their snowshoes into place. Dorran offered his hand, and Clare held it to stay steady as she scrambled over the waist-high snowbank. Dorran followed, shutting the door behind them, and they began the march through the snow.
The dark shapes resolved into two large wooden buildings. Both had sharply peaked roofs that had still managed to collect snow. Dorran led her to the largest one, the building on the left. As he’d promised, it was close to the house. Clare kept watch for movement among the trees, but as far as she could tell, they were alone.
Dorran led her to the door, a massive square that was designed to slide to the side, rather than swing. Whoever had built the doors hadn’t intended them to be opened in deep snow. Both Dorran and Clare had to put their shoulders to the wood and strain to get it to open even enough to slip inside.
The c
easeless, wailing wind faded as Clare entered the barn. The space was vast but dark. Its few narrow windows were crusted with ice. She stopped in the entryway and strained to see through the area. Metal glinted. Something tall stood near the back wall. Then Dorran slammed the door behind them, cutting out almost all of the light.
A shudder ran through Clare. The darkness seemed to press around her. The sound of every movement echoed through the space, and she wasn’t sure if all of the noises were from her and Dorran or whether they might not be alone. An unpleasant musty smell surrounded her. She wished he hadn’t closed the door.
Then a match scratched against its striker, and the spark illuminated Dorran’s face. He’d removed his mask, and his features were placid as he bent to light a lamp sitting on the table by the door. At first, the glow was barely enough to light his arm. But it grew, creating a little circle of illumination and pressing back the smothering blackness.
“Here. You can keep this one.” He passed her the lamp, and Clare gripped the metal ring tightly. “We are safe. The seal on the door hadn’t been disturbed since my family left, so the creatures will not have gained access to the shed.”
As Dorran lit a second lamp, Clare cautiously removed her own mask and unbuckled her snowshoes. Then she lifted her lamp, and the area came into relief.
She could tell it had once been busy. Tool sets were spread across benches and hung on the walls. Spare mechanical parts littered the shelves and were held in old crates. The floor was stained from innumerable oil spills. Partitioning walls stopped her from seeing the whole floorplan. Like everything in Winterbourne, it felt uncomfortably large.
A loft waited overhead, taking up half of the space above them. An old staircase braced on the left-hand wall led up to it. Clare craned her neck, straining to glimpse what might be up there, but she couldn’t see more than the ceiling.
