by M. J. Hearle
‘Go, Jas!’ Winter urged, locking the doors.
Jasmine still looked very confused, but the panic in Winter’s voice, not to mention the furious males bearing down on them, startled her into action. She slammed her foot on the accelerator just as Sam got within grabbing distance of the car. Winter turned to see the brothers running after them. Her eyes jumped to an orange blur streaking along the side of the road – Nefertem! The cat overtook the trio, struggling to close the growing space between itself and the car.
‘Stop!’
‘What?’
‘Stop the car, Jas!’
Frowning, Jasmine applied the brake, allowing Nefertem to catch up. The cat leapt in through Winter’s open door. However, the brief pause had allowed the three brothers to gain on them. Sam was almost within an arm’s length of the Mini Cooper, his expression thunderous.
‘Can we go now?’ Jasmine asked, eyeing the rear-view mirror nervously.
‘Yes!’
They sped off, leaving Sam standing in the fading glow of the tail-lights.
Chapter 55
Once they were far enough down the road Winter allowed herself to breathe again. Adrenaline thrummed through her body like electricity, making her feel elated and vaguely sick. She’d escaped! It had happened so fast she still couldn’t believe she’d managed the feat. Of course, she hadn’t done it alone. Bouncing Nefertem on her lap, she smiled gratefully into the cat’s bemused face.
‘Thank you!’
‘No problem,’ Jasmine replied, assuming Winter’s gratitude was directed at her. Her voice sounded a little panicky. ‘Mind telling me what the hell’s going on, Win? What were you doing at Sam’s house? Why did they chase us? Whose cat’s that?’ She took a deep breath. ‘In case you can’t tell, I’m a little freaked out here!’
‘His name’s Nefertem.’ Winter scratched Nefertem behind the ears. ‘And he’s my cat.’
‘Since when?’
‘Since now.’ The cat blinked at her and yawned, curling up on her lap.
‘I’m waiting, Winnie.’
She could see by the glow of the dashboard that Jasmine was genuinely upset by the situation. However, Winter was still having a hard time wrapping her own head around everything.
‘I can’t tell you, Jas,’ she replied hesitantly, knowing Jasmine wouldn’t stand for such a dismissive response.
Sure enough, Jasmine shook her head, setting her jaw in determination. ‘Uh-uh, you have to tell me something! You can’t expect me to just deal with this.’
Winter sighed and ran her hand through her hair, absently noting how greasy it was. She needed a shower desperately.
‘Do you remember last summer when you had that scare? When you thought you were pregnant?’
‘Of course! It’s not exactly something you forget in a hurry.’
‘For a week you were just moping about, not talking to anyone – even me. When I asked you what the problem was, you told me some things were just too big and scary to talk about. Do you remember?’
Jasmine’s mouth dropped open. ‘Oh my God, Winter, are you pregnant?’
Despite Winter’s frustration, she couldn’t help but grin at Jasmine’s cockeyed deduction. ‘No! Nothing like that.’ She stared at Jasmine as earnestly as she could.
‘This whole thing is just too big for me to discuss with you right now. I promise I will when I can. Is that okay?’
Jasmine chewed her lip thoughtfully, considering her proposal. ‘You’ll tell me when you can?’
Winter nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘Okay, then. But I’m going on record as saying that this is pretty messed up!’
‘Agreed.’ Winter slumped back into the seat. She felt utterly exhausted by the events of the past few hours. Nefertem had fallen asleep on her lap. It had been a tough evening for both of them and she suspected they still had a long way to go before they reached the end.
‘Can I ask one more question?’
Winter looked over at Jasmine, an eyebrow raised.
‘Maybe.’
‘Where are we going now?’
In the heat of the moment Winter had failed to set a destination for Jasmine. She’d been too churned up and grateful to have successfully escaped that it hadn’t even occurred to her that they needed to be escaping to somewhere.
‘The Velasco place,’ she answered quietly.
‘Why are we going there?’
‘To find Blake.’ Winter wasn’t sure what she was going to do once she got to Blake’s house. The mysterious ‘protections’ he’d talked about hadn’t prevented the Bane from breaking in, but they had seemed to work against the Skivers, so it seemed the safest place for her right now. Once inside, she could use the lodestone to call Blake and warn him about the Bane. They couldn’t reasonably stay in the house for too long now that Caleb and his sons knew where Blake lived. Winter only hoped that Blake had some kind of contingency plan.
As they drove along in silence, Winter’s mind turned inexorably back to the newspaper article about Carol Oates as well as the list of other girls on Caleb’s computer. She tried to clear her head of what she’d learned, but the information had taken root there like a malignant growth, playing on her insecurities and fears.
If nothing else, Caleb had been successful in wedging a splinter of doubt into her conviction of Blake’s essential goodness. She hated Caleb for that, and felt some grim satisfaction at the memory of Nefertem attacking the old man’s cruel face.
Chapter 56
Blake stood in the centre of the dais, staring up at the pale, solemn faces of the Malfaerie convocation. There were thirteen of them, seated in groups across five curved platforms, which slowly revolved around Blake like planets orbiting the sun. Each platform hovered off the ground at a different height, depending on the rank of the Malfaeries seated upon it. The very highest platform floated several hundred feet off the ground and was occupied by only one – the Magister. It was to this being that Blake looked now, studying the white, mask-like visage for a clue to the creature’s thoughts.
No great orator, Blake had stated the case for Winter’s soul as plainly as possible, and without emotion, for he knew it wouldn’t serve his cause. Empathy was beyond the Malfaerie. Instead, he’d done what Ariman had taught him to do – offered them a bargain.
As he stood anxiously awaiting the verdict, Blake looked beyond the rows of Malfaerie to the luminous clouds rushing across the night sky. He felt that familiar yearning to take leave from the ground and venture up into that dark sky, to exalt in the gifts he suppressed. He resisted. It would be dangerous to expend too much energy while he was here. As it was, the journey back to the mortal realm would sap his strength and he daren’t risk invoking the hunger. Especially as he hoped to be seeing Winter again soon. Part of his bargain included the provision that he would be allowed to say goodbye to her.
Contemplating the prospect of being separated from Winter forever, Blake felt a stab of pain in his heart. He comforted himself with the knowledge that she would live a long and healthy life, die a natural death and one day their spirits would come together again. Despite not knowing what lay on the other side of death, Blake chose to entertain this possibility. It warmed his heart, making the pain easier to endure.
A column of emerald light shot forth from a well not far from the dais. By its shifting radiance, Blake could make out some of his judges’ expressions more clearly. He read bemusement, curiosity and scorn etched across their inhumanly exquisite features – none of which soothed his anxiety. The Magister alone remained impassive, his eyes closed.
After what seemed an interminable amount of time, he heard the Magister’s cold, whispering voice in his head. The spoken word had no place in the Dead Lands. Blake’s brain processed the alien language, rendering it into something he could understand.
We have contemplated your proposal, Demori, and have reached a decision we hope pleases you.
The Magister opened his eyes, a cruel smile spreading across his b
lack lips. Blake waited impatiently for him to continue. The silence stretched on until Blake nervously prompted the Magister, I await your decision, Magister.
Still, the Magister didn’t respond. Like some dark god above, he glided around the circumference of the dais, studying Blake with chilling bemusement.
Why won’t you answer me? Blake demanded.
Now, the other Malfaerie were smiling, their eyes glowing with malice. He realised they were taking sadistic pleasure in his agitation.
Please – your decision!
Finally, the Magister delivered the verdict. Blake’s bargain had been considered and found lacking. Instead he was presented with an alternative. As the Magister’s voice echoed through his mind, Blake understood what had entertained them so.
Well? What do you say, Demori? Do you accept the conditions?
He lowered his gaze from the shifting platforms, and took a deep breath of the Krypthian air. Its magic could do nothing to soothe the torment he suffered.
Yes.
Marseilles
February, 1896
A thick yellow fog slowly rolled in over the water as Madeleine stood on the bow of the Demeter watching the dock for movement. Soon the fog would cover it completely, but for now her view was clear. Of course there was nothing to see, just shadows and sleeping ships, but Madeleine continued to watch regardless. Ariman had paid the captain enough money to ensure they embarked at an hour of the night when there would be few to witness their passing. Still, it gave her peace of mind to watch. Over the past eighteen years, watching for their enemies had become almost as automatic as breathing.
Her gaze had momentarily drifted beyond the dock to the twinkling skyline of Marseilles when the boards creaked behind her, announcing someone’s approach. She stiffened, then relaxed as familiar strong arms encircled her waist. If she turned now she’d see Ariman, unchanged from that first moment they’d met in the maze of Pigalle. Still youthful, still beautiful – unlike herself. Time had not forgotten her as it had him, and the years had begun to write their passage on her flesh – a line here, a crease there. Sometimes it hurt Madeleine to look at him, his youthful beauty a reminder of her own mortality. Soon people would mistake her for his mother and not his lover. His gift of eternal youth was Madeleine’s curse.
‘Come down with me below deck. The wind is cold, my love,’ he whispered. Madeleine shivered in pleasure as he kissed her gently on the cheek. It only took a soft word or a caress from him, and she forgot her insecurities. The way she looked had never mattered to Ariman. He saw her, saw her spirit, and had confessed many times as they’d lain in the darkness that its beauty had made a slave of him.
‘In a moment, dearest. Once we’re on our way,’ she answered, caressing the back of his neck as she tilted her face to smile at him. But her smile must not have been convincing, because Ariman’s eyes narrowed, first in suspicion, then concern.
‘There’s no way he could have followed us here,’ Ariman reassured her, gazing into her eyes. Once he had the ability to soothe her fears with such a look, but familiarity had made her immune to his enchantments. ‘The children need you. They’re nervous enough without you standing watch all night.’
‘They’re hardly children any more,’ Madeleine replied, but reluctantly allowed Ariman to lead her away. It was true that Claudette and Blake were nearly eighteen, old enough not to need their mother. Especially Claudette. Always the stronger and more wilful child, she hadn’t had much need for Madeleine when she was younger, and even less so now.
Ever since the day of the wolves, Madeleine had watched Claudette closely, studying her daughter for more evidence of that frightening wildness. As Claudette grew into a young woman, she’d watched it shift and hide behind her eyes like a viper in the shadows. Lately, Claudette had taken to disappearing in the night when she thought her mother was sleeping. It chilled Madeleine to contemplate what activities her daughter indulged in during these clandestine sojourns.
Deep down she was afraid of Claudette. The girl was as different to Blake as a lion was to a lamb. She shared none of her twin brother’s gentleness and sensitivity. The legacy of the Demori did not sit easily on his shoulders as it did with her. It tormented him, in fact; had done so since that tragic night two years ago when he first became aware of it. Blake had since announced that he had resolved to live a mortal life, though Madeleine worried his darker nature would not remain dormant forever. Sooner or later the hunger would grip him and he would be forced to feed. She only hoped Blake would have the strength to remember himself when it finally did; to remember that he was a man first, and a Demori second.
They were about to descend the staircase below deck when Madeleine felt Ariman tense. She paused, a cold sliver of fear lancing through her, listening. She heard the sound rising over the gentle lapping of the harbour waves and then the noise that had alerted Ariman – horses and the rattle of carriages in the distance. The cadence of the Bane.
Ariman gripped her tightly by the shoulders. ‘Go to our quarters and lock the door behind you. I’ll tell the captain to raise anchor.’
‘What will you do then?’
‘Stop them from getting on board any way I can.’
‘Victor will kill you!’ Madeleine gripped his shirt tightly, refusing to let go. ‘Stay with me!’
‘He’ll try,’ Ariman said with a thin smile. There was that wildness in his eyes, the wildness he’d passed on to their daughter.
‘I’ll come with you, then. I can help!’
Men were shouting on the deck above them. She could see the silhouettes of ship hands rushing about through the fog, as they were prompted to action. A gun was fired, and the acrid stink of gunpowder polluted the air.
‘The children,’ he reminded her quietly. Still Madeleine clung to him, and Ariman shook his head in gentle frustration. Quickly, he lifted the lodestone from around his neck and lowered it onto Madeleine’s breast. The emerald shard glinted against her skin with its own queer light.
‘I’ll return as soon as I can. But if I’m delayed and the ship sets sail, use the stone to call me, just as I showed you.’ He leaned forward and kissed her deeply on the mouth. She gripped him, resisting his efforts to gently push her away.
‘I’ll find you, Madeleine. I’ll always find you.’ Before she could protest, he turned and ran into the fog.
Madeleine reluctantly went below deck. There were more gunshots as she hurried along the corridor to their cabin. Once inside, she bolted the door and faced her children. Blake was looking at her for an explanation, his face pale with fear. There was no terror in Claudette’s eyes; instead, they shone with that same cold excitement she’d displayed against the wolves.
‘What is it, Mother?’ Blake asked anxiously. He had grown into almost the mirror image of his father. Only the thick black curls of his hair were different from Ariman’s straighter locks, and his eyes, while green as all the Demori, were open and innocent, devoid of his father’s mischievous spark.
‘There’s nothing to be afraid of. We’re setting sail,’ Madeleine answered, unsure what else to say.
‘Where’s Father?’ Claudette asked, though there was no real concern in her voice.
‘Speaking to the captain.’
The floor beneath them lurched as the ship tugged against its moorings. The captain must have raised anchor and unfurled the sails. There were more gunshots above, followed by the sound of clashing metal.
‘The Bane,’ Claudette said, her eyes flashing dangerously. ‘I should go and help. Blake, we both should —’
‘Sit down, Claudette!’ Madeleine said, much more forcefully than she meant to.
Claudette glared at her. ‘But I can help!’
‘We’re going to wait here until your father returns.’The commotion on the deck above them rose in volume. A man screamed as a volley of shots were fired.
‘Mother?’ Blake’s gaze flicked worriedly to the ceiling.
‘We’re going to be safe,’ Madeleine
said, pulling him close, but even as the words left her mouth the sounds of battle grew louder. There were footsteps now, coming down the hallway.
‘Let me stop them!’ Claudette pleaded.
Madeleine shook her head firmly. She daren’t speak for fear of her voice trembling. He’d found them! After all this time, Victor had finally found them!
A fist banged on the door.
‘Mother, are you in there?’
She gasped in shock. It was not Victor – but the voice shared his father’s cruel tone. It was Antoine, the son she’d spent the last two decades trying to reclaim. He no longer belonged to her. Victor had sculpted him in his own twisted image.
‘Open the door, Mother. You have nothing to fear from me.’
Madeleine held her finger to her lips as a warning to both Claudette and Blake. Don’t make a sound!
She heard Antoine curse and grunt to someone else, ‘Get the axe.’
Searching for a weapon she might use to protect them with, Madeleine scanned the room. There was nothing apart from their luggage and some torn netting hanging from the rafters. Blake paced to the centre of the room before turning to her and confessing miserably to an unspoken request.
‘I can’t do it, Mother. I can’t —’
Madeleine went to him and cradled his face in her hands. ‘Shh . . . I’m not asking you to.’ And she wasn’t. Though Blake possessed his father’s gifts, he lacked the experience to use them. It would be dangerous not only for them but for himself to call upon those powers now.
‘But they’re coming! What will we —’ He was interrupted by a deafening whack. The door to their room shuddered beneath the blow of an axe. There was a moment of silence broken by another jarring thud, and an axe blade splintered through the panelling. An ugly cheer of triumph rang out in the hallway.
Claudette crossed to Madeleine’s side. ‘Please, I’m ready.’
‘No, it’s too dangerous!’
