Winter’s Light

by M. J. Hearle

  Winter’s rapturous expression wavered; why wouldn’t he wake up? She pressed her hand to his chest, desperately feeling for a heartbeat. Relief tempered her growing panic as she detected a faint rhythmic pulse. He was alive . . . just.

  ‘Blake?’ She touched the iron collar around his neck. Staring closer, Winter saw the blackened flesh around the collar and felt her stomach clench with anger. Magdalene! It had been the old woman all along. Her punishment could wait though. Running her fingers along the circumference of the binding, Winter closed her eyes, imagining it opening beneath her touch. There was no hesitancy in this action; just a grim focus and determination. If she could open locked doors, she could unlock manacles.

  There was a click and the collar fell away. Winter threw it into the shadows of the cell. Still, Blake remained unconscious.

  ‘Wake up, my love . . . please, wake up,’ Winter whispered and bent to give him a kiss. As her lips brushed his, she felt a tremor roll through his body. His eyes slowly opened and gazed weakly into hers.

  Thank you, Winter offered up her gratitude to God, to the cosmos, to anyone who would listen. She’d been granted a second chance. They both had. Looking into his eyes, Winter had a sensation of coming home, of unrelenting optimism in the face of horror and darkness. And then something changed . . . Blake’s glittering eyes widened slightly, sharpened. It wasn’t recognition or love she saw reflected in those familiar emerald depths – but hunger! Inhuman and absolute.

  Before she had a second to react, Blake lunged upwards, flipping her roughly onto her back. Crouched over her like an animal, he forcefully pressed his mouth to hers and began to drink.

  What are you doing? Winter thought, too shocked to feel anything but dumb incomprehension. Why are you hurting me? Her vision swam and then darkened.

  ‘GET OFF HER!’ came the frightened yell, snapping Winter back into consciousness. There was a flash of yellow light, followed by the sound of breaking glass. Blake rolled off her into the cell, trailing smoke. His arm was on fire. Their eyes met briefly before the darkness swallowed him. Already his features looked stronger, more beautiful, flushed as they were with life. Her life.

  Though still dazed, Winter was alert enough to read the regret in those eyes, the shame, and then he was gone, disappearing in a flash of spectral light.

  She heard footsteps and then Jasmine’s worried face was hovering over hers. ‘Win?’

  She tried to answer but there was no breath in her body. Why had he left?

  ‘Win!’ Jasmine repeated, the concern in her voice holding Winter’s wheeling focus. She concentrated on breathing in and out. Smoky air filled her lungs, making her cough. Jasmine helped her sit up, patting her gently on the back to clear her airways.

  The smell of petrol pricked her nostrils and Winter saw the broken lamp on the stones. Jasmine must have thrown it at Blake from the doorway. There was a pool of kerosene spreading around it like blood. Winter’s spinning thoughts began to slow, and with it the crushing heartache of the situation became clearer.

  ‘Are you okay? Win? Please say something.’

  ‘Blake,’ Winter croaked, her throat contracting with emotion. ‘It was Blake.’

  Jasmine frowned. ‘What do you mean it was Blake?’ Her eyes widened with comprehension. ‘You mean that thing attacking you?’

  Winter could only nod miserably. Already she was trying to rationalise his attack. Clearly the hunger had been too much for Blake to control. She’d seen how gaunt he was, how emaciated. It must have been instinctual, a reaction to the appearance of sustenance after being starved halfway to death.

  ‘I’m sorry, Win,’ Jasmine said, sympathetic but anxious to leave. ‘I don’t know what to say. But we have to go. Like – now! There are bodies outside. The keep’s on fire. We need to get out of this place.’

  Winter didn’t want to move, the very idea of it made her exhausted. But as confused and upset as she was, her friend was right. The castle wasn’t safe. Blake was alive, that was the important thing. She had to have faith that he would return to her.

  Chapter 59

  Jasmine quickly filled Winter in on the encounter with Radermire as they wound their way down the tower staircase.

  ‘He came out of the darkness, after the lights went out. I guess he’d heard the bells ringing and came to find out what was happening. I was in the chapel standing over that device. After I poured the water on it, the rings started spinning really fast and it made this horrible sound and sort of exploded. The weird crystal ball thingy fell on the floor and cracked, leaking green light everywhere. Radermire looked like a ghost, flying out at me, calling me names, and I screamed and threw the vase. It hit him in the head and . . . he – he went down.’ Her voice cracked with guilt. ‘I didn’t check to see if he was still breathing. I just ran. It was self-defence though, Win. Right?’

  ‘Of course it was. You’re lucky to be alive,’ Winter said, struggling to keep her thoughts from wandering back to Blake. If they were to get out of here she needed to focus. The distant sounds of men yelling, guns firing and small explosions swept through the night. Castle Vled was a battle zone.

  They skittered to the bottom of the staircase and ran into the courtyard. Cold rain stung Winter’s face, streaming into her eyes, making it difficult to see. The southern tower was in flames, as was a small section of the keep. Fire glowed behind the glass, transforming its windows into hellish eyes staring down at them from the stormy darkness.

  ‘Where do we go from here?’ Jasmine asked, treacherously close to becoming hysterical again. Winter was still too numb to acknowledge her fear, but sensed it seething just beyond the temporary cocoon of shock. Any moment now it would steal inside and she’d be just as lost and frightened as Jasmine.

  Lightning forked overhead illuminating the rain-swept area in more detail, and Winter saw a path leading off to the right into the garden. It wasn’t the most direct route to the castle’s entrance but it would hopefully take them away from the fighting.

  ‘This way,’ she said, pulling Jasmine. Running along the slippery cobblestones, they followed the path and found themselves in the garden, surrounded by dripping greenery. Winter realised she’d accidentally led them into a dead end. The gravel path didn’t continue through the garden. It circled around the fountain before turning in on itself.

  ‘I was wrong. We have to —’ she was cut off by an ear-ringing thunderclap that came not from the sky but from behind them.

  ‘Oh no,’ Jasmine moaned next to her. Neither girl moved, both too afraid to turn around. Feeling a bitter coldness wrap around her that had nothing to do with the pelting rain, Winter forced herself to face whatever was standing there. Jasmine, her eyes squeezed shut, reluctantly did the same.

  A Demori was blocking the path. Another female, dressed in purple and black leather. Her hair was shaved, rain droplets glistening on the grey stubble of her crown. Cocking her head to one side, she smiled wolfishly at them.

  ‘Hello, my lovelies,’ she said in a deceptively silky voice.

  ‘What do we do? What do we do? What do we do?’ Jasmine muttered, voice rising in a hysterical pitch, skipping like a broken record.

  ‘Be quiet!’ Winter snapped, more forcefully than she’d intended. Jasmine’s mouth slammed shut, but she continued to whimper softly.

  They began to back away from the grinning Demori who remained still, watching them. Taking wicked delight in their fear.

  The edge of the fountain almost at their backs, there was another thunderclap and the grove was splashed with spectral light. Winter whirled around and saw a second Demori circling slowly around the fountain towards them. This one’s face was adorned with rings and studs which jangled as he moved.

  Winter could hear Jasmine starting to hyperventilate beside her.

  ‘It’s okay, Jas,’ Winter said softly, reaching blindly for Jasmine’s hand without taking her eyes off the sneering, pierced Demori. Jasmine’s cold fingers closed around hers. Winter glanced across at
her friend and forced a reassuring smile. There was nothing behind the smile though. It was hollow; a clown’s smile. They both knew they were as good as dead.

  More thunderclaps and emerald lightning bursts, a dozen or so, rattled the grove and soon the two girls were surrounded by Demori. Some grinned, some smirked, some wore more neutral expressions; all stared at Winter with shining emerald eyes. Eyes naked in their hunger. They could see her light and wanted it for themselves.

  However, none broke the circle to come and claim their prize, none ventured forward. They seemed content just to prevent the girls from escaping. A minute ticked by and still they didn’t move. Unable to weather the suspense any longer, Winter demanded, ‘What are you waiting for?!’

  If she was to be murdered, then let it happen quickly.

  ‘Me,’ the familiar voice came quietly and calmly from beyond the circle. ‘My friends are waiting for me.’

  Winter gasped as the Demori parted and a figure strode into view.

  It was Benedict.

  Chapter 60

  There was a sense of inevitability about his arrival. Like the course of a nightmare rising to its zenith. As he came closer she saw that while his expensive suit was torn and stained with blood, Benedict’s hair remained as immaculately styled as ever. For some reason this horrified Winter more than the blood.

  ‘My, my you have led me on a merry chase,’ he tutted in disapproval. ‘So much trouble over such a little thing. Still, I must thank you. Were it not for your stubborn refusal to die I might have missed all the fun tonight. That would have been an awful shame.’

  ‘Glad I could help,’ Winter said, valiantly trying to retain her composure. Her eyes flicked past Benedict, searching for an escape route or for signs of rescue. She thought of Sam lying bleeding in the great hall. He could barely move let alone fight off a small army of Demori. There was no-one else to come for them. She and Jas were alone.

  ‘You want her? You gotta go through me!’ Jasmine said, her voice shaking. Winter glanced over and saw her friend glaring at Benedict through fearful tears – loyal and brave to the last.

  Benedict’s gaze narrowed, and his smile grew colder and crueller. ‘Is that so? Well, as intimidating as you are, my love, I’ll take my chances. You see, we have unfinished business, she and I. Of course, you’re more than welcome to watch. I’m quite the showman once I get started.’

  ‘Just get on with it before you bore us both to death,’ Winter said, tired of the game.

  Benedict’s smile faded. ‘As you wish.’ And with that he lunged across the space between them, pouncing on Winter like a cat. Jasmine immediately ran to Winter’s aid, but was knocked back effortlessly by Benedict. Winter saw her fly through the air into the waiting arms of a nearby Demori, who caught her like she was a tossed ball.

  ‘Jasmine!’

  Benedict grabbed her chin, forcing her attention back to him.

  ‘Let me —!’ Winter couldn’t finish her sentence, the words were snatched away, stolen by the iridescent green of Benedict’s eyes. She knew she shouldn’t look at him, but it was too late. Already her will to fight was fading, a sad acceptance rushing to fill its place.

  ‘There we go,’ Benedict cooed to her, stroking the sides of her face. His breath smelt sickly sweet. ‘Nothing to get so upset about. Just a kiss. That’s all I want to give you. A simple kiss . . . before death.’

  His mouth drifted closer, the hypnotic light in his eyes brightening, eclipsing the night.

  Thunder exploded and Benedict’s features were splashed with green light. Flicking his head in irritation, he growled at the Demori who had materialised. ‘What do you think —’

  Benedict’s question became a strangled grunt as he was yanked violently off Winter. In a stunning display of strength, the Demori hurled Benedict at the fountain, his body smashing through it like it was made of paper.

  A shocked hush fell over the onlookers.

  Blinking in the rain, Winter shielded her eyes. A small gasp escaped her lips.

  Slowly, Blake turned to regard the crowd of Demori. With his long hair and the firelight reflecting off his rain-slicked chest, Blake looked like some primitive warrior come to do battle.

  Behind the fountain there was an enraged growl as Benedict picked himself up from the rubble. ‘You dare interrupt? She is rightfully mine! I made the claim. The law —’

  ‘Do not lecture me on the law,’ Blake said, his voice hoarse yet commanding. Winter had never heard him use such a tone before. ‘Who do you think wrote it?’

  His question was met with a shocked murmuring from the crowd. Glancing around, Winter saw there were now at least fifty Demori standing by.

  ‘You are not he,’ Benedict said, the trembling in his voice betraying his uncertainty. ‘Not the First. Not the All Father!’

  Sensing her position between Blake and Benedict was precarious, Winter scrambled backwards, not caring that she was shoulder to shoulder with the Demori spectators. She threw a quick worried glance into the crowd and saw Jasmine. She was alive – the Demori holding her was too absorbed with the building conflict.

  ‘Careful little one,’ Blake said, a dangerous smile creasing his lips. ‘I might be weakened, but I have more than enough strength for you.’

  Watching Benedict’s hesitation as he stared at Blake across the broken fountain was enormously satisfying. Still, Winter wasn’t sure, despite his confidence, if her love was strong enough to fight Benedict. He was still so thin, so wan. The same thoughts seemed to be running through Benedict’s head as he gestured to Blake and addressed the others.

  ‘Do you hear him? This wretch thinks he’s the First,’ he sneered, clearly expecting the crowd to side with him. Instead, he was met with frowning, worried expressions. Winter didn’t know how, but Blake’s abrupt appearance had shifted the power balance.

  ‘Time to go, little one,’ Blake said, a warning edge to his low voice. ‘Run away, now. Run away.’

  Benedict didn’t seem eager to look at Blake, as if by ignoring him he might deny his existence. ‘Fools! I’ll show you then!’ he shouted to the crowd. ‘Prove to you he’s an imposter!’

  He now faced Blake, mouth twisted into a feral snarl, eyes glittering dangerously. Coiling back onto his haunches, Benedict launched himself through the air, moving almost too fast for Winter to see. Mid-air he disappeared in a blaze of green fire, exploding out a second later behind Blake. Blake twisted, catching Benedict as he made a lunge at his neck, and the two of them wrestled violently, exchanging blows.

  Winter held her breath as Benedict seemed to get the upper hand, raking his fingers across Blake’s bare skin and drawing blood. Blake cried out in pain, and stumbled backwards.

  ‘You see!’ Benedict crowed. ‘He’s noth—’ Blake leapt forward, silencing him with a series of devastating punches. The wound his enemy had inflicted seemed to have summoned a rage Winter never would have thought possible in her love. Fists blurring, he pummelled Benedict mercilessly, driving him backwards against the fountain. Reeling, Benedict made one last desperate attempt to escape – Travelling in a weak flash of light. Blake chased him through the split in reality, leaving the garden vibrating with echoes of their battle. Winter’s chest started to ache. She let out the breath she’d been holding just as there was another flash of emerald light and Blake reappeared, carrying Benedict in a headlock.

  ‘I’m sorry . . . I’m sorry,’ Benedict mumbled, barely conscious. ‘I didn’t know.’ Tears rolled down his cheeks, mingling with the rain and blood. Blake dropped him on the ground and the humbled Demori slowly pulled himself onto his knees, scrabbling at Blake’s pants, begging him. ‘Please . . . forgive me, All Father. The First of us. I am your son.’

  Blake regarded him coolly. ‘You are not my son.’

  Winter gasped as Blake’s hands shot out in one lightning-quick movement and twisted Benedict’s head around, breaking his neck with a loud snap. Benedict, his head grotesquely facing backwards, dropped to the ground, featu
res frozen forever in a shocked expression.

  Breathing heavily with exertion, Blake turned his forbidding gaze on the rest of the gathered Demori.

  ‘Leave here. All of you. Now!’

  There was perhaps a second or two of hesitation as the Demori looked at Blake and then at each other. And then one by one they began to vanish. When the staccato bursts of emerald had faded, Blake closed his eyes and turned his face up to the sky.

  Winter watched Blake as he washed himself in the rain. Part of her wanted to run and throw her arms around him, the other part pleaded caution. It wasn’t just the fact that he’d just brutally killed another Demori in front of her, nor was it the memory of his attack in the tower – no, it was something else. He seemed disturbingly . . . different.

  Limping through the mud, Jasmine joined her. ‘Do you think they’ll come back?’

  Winter couldn’t take her eyes off Blake. ‘No.’

  Jasmine followed Winter’s sight line to the half-naked figure standing in the rain.

  ‘Oh my God . . . is it really him?’

  Prompted by the two girls’ voices, Blake lowered his head from the downpour and frowned. ‘I must apologise,’ he said, addressing Winter. ‘Before in the castle. I lost control.’

  ‘Are you okay?’ Winter said, accepting his apology without question. At the moment she was much more concerned with the fact that he was looking at her as if they’d just met.

  Suddenly, recognition sparked in his eyes, but not the warm recognition of love she was hoping for. ‘You’re the girl from the stone.’

  The statement was a confirmation of her fears. ‘Don’t you know me?’ she said, her voice cracking. ‘Blake, it’s me! Winter!’

  His confused expression wavered, the creases in his forehead relaxed. Something she said had got through to him, but this new understanding was overshadowed by a kind of pity that made Winter even more upset.

  ‘Oh . . . I see.’

  ‘What do you mean? What – what have they done to you?’ Tears began streaming down her cheeks.