For a moment Ashley thought it was beckoning her on.
A dreadful hopelessness stole into her.
What was she doing?
What was the point?
She couldn't run forever. She didn't even know what she was running from. Two people were dead because of her. She couldn't bring them back. More would die. She couldn't stop them. She was just an ordinary kid. She didn't have any special powers. She didn't have a magic wand that she could wave to make everything better. She wasn't a hero. She was alone in this. Assassins were hunting her. Assassins that hunted by scent and could follow her everywhere, no matter where she went. There was nowhere in the world that was safe for her anymore. Strangers had come into her home and tried to take her away. She couldn't trust anything happening around her, not even her own eyes. She was alone. In the dark.
It all came crashing down on her.
She couldn't hear.
Even her vision seemed to be losing its sharpness and clarity, the rain spilling down over her eyes as the park slowly faded to black.
But there, up ahead, that single bright spot of yellow.
Ashley tried to focus on it as her vision swam.
She didn't know what was happening to her, but this wasn't right.
She felt her balance start to go, as though she was about to keel over where she stood, and began to run.
She ran with every ounce of her strength, her arms and legs pumping desperately.
And it was as though she pierced some sort of veil that had dampened the world. On the other side of it the rain hit her face and she heard the slap of her feet on the bridle path. She heard the barking dog and the slick tyres on the road beyond the park. It was all there again.
Her hood fell back around her neck, the top button of her duffel coat digging into her throat as she ran. And she felt it. She felt the plastic tooth dig in and she felt the rain on her face and the bite all the way up inside her jaw as she clenched her teeth and ran.
She focussed on the yellow light as it bobbed in front of her, leading her on.
And she ran.
Whatever it was, she was outrunning it, but not for anywhere near long enough.
It all came crashing back down again.
Her legs began to weaken and all she could think, one single utterly hopeless thought, was: what's the point? I can't runaway. I can't hide. I can't even trust my own eyes! It's too much! It's all too much!
Ashley stopped trying to run. She turned around to face whatever it was that was following her, an icy cold certainty gathering in the pit of her stomach as she raised the goggles to her eyes and fixed the strap in place. Raindrops spattered the glass. She didn't care. She was looking through them at the skeletally tall man without a face who stood in the middle of the bridle path.
The alethioptics magnified him, making it seem as though the faceless man was right on top of her. He wasn't. There were six lampposts between them, meaning they were almost five hundred metres apart.
She was three hundred meters from the gate and two streets more to Mel's house. But even if she made it that far she wouldn't be really safe. Mel's place wasn't protected.
The man moved towards her.
He didn't walk; he glided. His feet didn't seem to touch the ground.
As he came into the light the streetlight above him guttered and went out, but in that half-second before it did Ashley had seen enough to never ever forget him. He was dressed in a morning suit, like a butler or an undertaker, with bone white hands and horribly long fingers. But it was the two slits where his nose ought to have been and the lack of any eyes or cheekbones or brow that would haunt her dreams—if she ever got to sleep again.
Another streetlight flickered and went out.
She felt the cold close around her heart and the sadness swell within her. It was hopeless. She couldn't escape. Despair welled up inside Ashley once more.
The Nightgaunt let out a low ululating howl that startled a badger out of the shadows and sent it scampering towards its sett.
She couldn't move.
Fear had her rooted to the spot.
Her heart hammered against her breastbone.
The badger ran across her path.
Her hands were clammy. She could feel the sweat, she realised, and that realisation broke the spell for just a moment. She turned her back on the faceless man.
She saw that light again, though through the lenses of the alethioptics it wasn't some distant blurry light at all, it was a luminous glow that surrounded a tiny winged creature, like a firefly, but not like a firefly… more like an enormous dragonfly or scaled insect, or, she thought wildly, a fairy if fairies weren't cute at all. She remembered the statue of the boy who wouldn't grow up in Kensington Park, just a stone's throw from where she was, and the house where J.M. Barrie had written Peter Pan a stone's throw in the other direction, and wondered just for a moment: could it be possible? Was she seeing the inspiration for Tinkerbell? Was it actually Tink? It seemed suddenly—stupidly—possible. Why not? So much else had happened that defied rational explanation.
Magnified by the goggles she could see the absolute dread in the little creature's face as it beckoned her forward urgently.
Ashley gritted her teeth and began to run again.
She kept on looking straight ahead, focussing on the fairy light as it flickered in and out of the undergrowth.
Behind her another streetlight flickered and failed.
Ashley ran.
And didn't stop running until she was out of the gate and standing in the street with cars going by in both directions and people spilling out of the Underground station towards the pubs and shops further along the Bayswater Road. She didn't wait for a break in the traffic. She ran straight out into the road and was greeted by a chorus of blared horns and screeching brakes as the rain sheeted down. She raced around the side of a big red London bus, half expecting to see Ephram Wanderer on the footplate waiting to sell her a ticket. She nearly slipped on the wet road, but made it to the other side.
Streetlights all along the Bayswater Road started to go out.
The bulbs in the car headlights popped and went dark.
The lights illuminating the signs of the chip shop, the deli and the newsagent in front of her shattered.
In a matter of seconds one of the busiest streets in London was bathed in darkness and silence.
Ashley didn't stop running. She dodged between people. Pushed past others.
The fairy light led her down Bayswater Road toward Marble Arch. Mel's house was inside the maze of houses to her left.
Within two cross streets she'd caught up with the tiny creature. She saw it properly for the first time, with its pretty face on the body of a winged insect. Before she could say or do anything, the little scaled creature lifted a hand to its lips and blew a fine powder in her face, and said: "Shhh… No questions. Don't move. Don't make a sound. Don't even breathe!" And rushed away from her, her fierce glow ducking and weaving between pedestrians until she disappeared from sight. Ashley didn't move. She didn't dare blink never mind breathe. An elderly woman with her hair in curlers and two carrier bags filled to overflowing with groceries that strained the plastic handles to breaking point waddled towards her. The old woman didn't give her a second glance.
A minute later the streetlight beside her flickered, just once.
Ashley caught herself about to gasp, her breath hitching in her throat. She wanted desperately to close her eyes. If she couldn't see it, maybe it couldn't see her? But the fairy had told her to stay absolutely still. The streetlight flickered again. She heard something inside it fizzle and the pop and darkness engulfed the pavement around her. The hedgerow that kept one of the not-so fancy hotels secluded from the main road rustled as though the leaves themselves were shivering.
The faceless Nightgaunt drifted down the path towards her. People seemed to move out of its way as though they knew it was there, but for some reason couldn't—or didn't want to—see it.
It was by far the most hideous thing she had ever seen, so close to human, and yet so utterly alien with its pale flat face and the slick sticky oily residue that seemed to cling to it, and those slits for nostrils that flared as it came towards her. It had no eyes, she realised, so didn't need to see her to hunt her. It was following her by scent, like some sort of animal. Her mind flashed on the image of the Wolfen attacking Miss Lake. She felt her knees begin to buckle as the creature came closer. And in that moment, the space between breaths, she could no longer feel the rain on her face. She didn't dare move. Somehow the faceless assassin was robbing her of her senses. The world around her began to slowly blur and fade—so much so that by the time it stood beside her she couldn't see it beyond a hazy outline that she couldn't focus on no matter how hard she tried.
Ashley didn't dare move a muscle.
Not an inch.
Not a hair.
She waited for it to strike—every muscle screaming for her to run!
She was shivering. She was so cold. So very cold.
It stopped right beside her, an inch from her face.
She saw the black tears in its flat face flare open, sniffing, sniffing…
And then it moved on.
Slowly her senses began to return. She felt the wetness where the rain had matted her hair flat to her scalp and the cold as it squirmed beneath her collar and down her back. A car horn honked, breaking the silence. Then all of the sounds of the city came rushing in all at once.
She could no longer see the fae light or the faceless assassin. It had followed the fairy down towards Marble Arch. She had no idea what the tiny creature had done, how it had had hidden her from the blind hunter, but it had worked. She didn't know how much longer it would keep working though. She could only hope that the rain would play havoc with its senses and make it hard for the creature to find her scent again.
She wanted that umbrella more than ever. It had to be important. Aunt Elspeth wouldn't have left her helpless. It could be her only weapon against these impossible creatures. Not impossible, she thought, because they were here.
She cut between the rows of terraced houses.
In a couple of minutes Ashley stood beneath Mel's bedroom window.
A light was on. She grabbed a handful of pebbles at tossed them up at the glass. The rat-at-at, like toy scattergun fire as they hit the glass drew her friend to the window. She pulled the sash window up and shouted: "Ash-Pash! You're soaked! Get your arse around the front, babe! I'll let you in."
Ashley shook her head.
"Nah, it's fine. I just need the umbrella."
"C'mon, we've had your mum on the phone, you know, frantic. Said you'd skipped out on them. What is it? Secret love affair? Midnight rendezvous with Broody? Lots of heavy breathing and yearning? Please tell me you've gone all hopelessly devoted. I want to hear the goss! No, wait, don't tell me. I'll meet you round the front!" And with that she was gone. She didn't close the window.
Ashley really didn't have the time for a good gossip. She needed to be as far away from here as possible as quickly as possible, especially if they'd already realised she was gone. She had no idea how long the powder the fairy had blown in her face would mask her scent and hide her from the faceless killer, only that with the rain coming down it would wash away sooner rather than later. She checked back the way she had come. She had the distinct feeling that she was being watched but she couldn't see anyone as she walked around to the front door.
Mel was waiting for her on the porch. She had the umbrella in her hand.
"Spill, sweet cheeks. What on earth have you been up to in the three hours since I saw you last? It's not like you to be the one in trouble. I feel positively left out."
Ashley really didn't know what to say so Mel tried to help her out.
"Just tell me it's about a boy."
Ashley shook her head.
"Well, I don't mind saying that's a disappointment, kiddo. I was expecting salacious sex and total scandal the way mummy dearest was going on."
"I just need to hide for a while."
"You can play Anne Frank here, Ash-Pash. My secret basement storage is all yours, just say the word."
As tempting as it was, Ashley shook her head. She didn't want to bring that thing to her friend's door.
She shook her head again. "I need the umbrella."
"Gimme something. Anything, Ash. My life is so dull. I need some excitement in it. Lie to me. Then I'll give you the brollie."
Ashley laughed. She couldn't remember the last time she had.
"You're weird."
"And you love me, so what's that say about you?"
"Just cover for me, will you?"
"It's the Chicka Code. My lips are sealed. Haven't seen you. Go. Get out of here. Be awesome. Get laid. You know… if that's what this is all about… and if it is, then I want all of the details when you're back. Deal?"
Ashley grinned. It was so much easier to just pretend it was all about a boy. "Deal."
She took the umbrella.
"Try not to get into too much trouble without me!" Mel called after her as she stepped back out from under the cover of the porch and into the rain.
She didn't see the shadowy shape of Blackwater Blaze crouched down between the rubbish bins lined up outside the house across the street.
Ashley set off down the street, not sure where she was going, only that she wanted to put as much distance between herself and her friend's house before the faceless creature came back.
The Wolfen slunk out of the shadows and followed her.
SEVENTEEN
Wolf Moon
Blackwater Blaze could see the girl, but he could not smell her.
He sniffed the air again.
She had no scent at all.
No. That wasn't true. She did. She had a fragrance, but it was different—she smelled of the city; of the oil and the grease and the grit and the exhaust fumes and the sweat and the desperation and all of those other smells. It was as though she had bathed in it. There was nothing unique about her. No trace of the Kingdoms Under the Moon on her skin.
And that was impossible.
Or so he would have thought if he hadn't seen that interfering little Faelyn, Rain, cast a glamour over the girl a few minutes ago to hide her from the Nightgaunt.
Redhart Jax had turned on him. He had dispatched the Nightgaunt to kill the girl.
It meant that everything had changed.
He hadn't wanted to believe it, not what he saw with his own two eyes, not the chill that stole into his blood or the lack of feeling that followed it, but there was no denying the truth: the Nightgaunt was in the city, hunting.
It was all beginning to make a grim kind of sense now; Redhart Jax's threats of branding him a lone wolf, exiling his pack and leaving Blaze to rot in the sun weren't idle. The Occulator had never intended for him to come home. He'd dispatched Blaze as her judge, jury and executioner, knowing that setting the Alpha on her meant the girl wouldn't live long enough to return home to claim her birthright. And that made Blackwater Blaze a loose end to be cleaned up by the Nightgaunt.
The Wolfen shivered.
The rain matted his fur.
He hated this place. He hated the air choked with dirt. He hated the lifeless stone. But most of all he hated the lack of magic in everything. It was so empty. It was a world of nothing. No wonder the Nightgaunt was at home here.
Blackwater Blaze refused to die here.
Jax could scheme and plot his end as much as he liked, Blackwater Blaze was going to make the Occulator answer for his treachery.
What had Jax called him? A foot soldier. Foot soldiers were loyal; unquestioning. It wasn't their place to think for themselves. They did what they were told. They served the cause. They trusted those above them in the chain of command. Was he a foot soldier? Did he believe in the cause when the cause was the murder of a young girl? Did he believe in his masters when their only thought was for the consolidation of their own power?
>
Was he prepared to allow them to use him?
He couldn't pretend he didn't know what was right and what was wrong. He couldn't claim to be naïve. If he allowed himself to be manipulated it was because he accepted what they were doing was for the best.
And it wasn't.
It wasn't right and he didn't accept it.
He was the Alpha of his pack. His pack was gone, if he sacrificed his nobility he would have nothing.
There was no doubting the girl was Tanaquill's heir. She was the dead queen's double. And that meant the Dragon Seat was hers by blood. There was only one honourable thing to do, he realised.
He was going home and he was taking the girl with him.
He didn't know what he was going to do when he got there—and worrying about it now wouldn't help, not when there was more than enough to worry about already. First he had to get the girl, then he had to get her past the Nightgaunt and through one of the Moongates. Everything after that was a bridge to be crossed when he came to it. Right here, right now, getting the girl away from the Nightgaunt was all that mattered.
And that wasn't going to be easy.
By unleashing the Nightgaunt Redhart Jax had confirmed all of Blaze's worst doubts, but even knowing there was a snake in the darkness beneath the moon wouldn't help him if he didn't live long enough to face Jax Wolfen to Wolfen, and take down the King Under the Moon if he had to. With the Nightgaunt after him there was no guarantee that he would.
Blackwater Blaze might well have been the supreme warrior, certainly no creature could match him tooth and claw. Even the spells of Ephram Wanderer hadn't been enough to hold him for more than a few minutes, such was the sheer strength of his will, but the Nightgaunt was no ordinary adversary. Even toe-to-toe there was no guarantee he'd walk away from the fight.
Blaze was not used to being frightened.
Fear was a weakness he exploited in others, it wasn't one he suffered from. But he was frightened.
He gritted his teeth.
He needed to think. The Nightgaunt had lost the girl's scent, and rather than try and track her down had drifted towards Marble Arch. Blaze looked up at the sky. It was a wolf moon, full and heavy in the black sky. It was difficult to judge precisely, but the moon was approaching its zenith, meaning the Moongates would open soon. The Nightgaunt knew that Blaze would have to bring the girl through a gate—and that was exactly what the huge monument of Marble Arch hid: the Great Moongate. So all it had to do was lie in wait for the perfect moment to make its move, and that was just as they began crossing over. That was when they were at their most vulnerable.
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