Vowed (22 page)

‘Definite possibilities. What else?’

‘Just lots of faerie lore about kids being stolen to entertain the faerie queens, with changelings being left behind in the human world. It goes back to Roman times, and the Greeks before
then.’ I riffle the pages of my notebook. ‘I’ve not even really looked at African, Middle Eastern or any of the Russian folklore. I also have gods and goddesses from various
Western pantheons stealing kids. There’s this group of creatures called the Faceless that freaks me out a little. I’ve not found much about them but they seem tied to the Sidhe
somehow.’ I rub my eyes tiredly. ‘Mostly there’s lots of stuff about children across all ages and times wandering off in the middle of the night and being stolen by demons and
things.’ I sigh and slump in my chair. ‘This is hard. Why can’t it just be some stupid human?’

‘Who is to say it isn’t?’

I open my mouth to say something but nothing comes out for a few seconds. ‘Excuse me, what?’

‘Who is to say a human isn’t behind this? Why can’t a human be strong and clever enough to engage a supernatural creature to steal the children he or she wants?’

‘But what for?’

‘Many reasons. Human trafficking. Paedophilia. To trade for something else with someone else.’ She lights another cigarette as the other lies dying. ‘The world is an ugly
place, Kit. Never ever forget that. Bad things happen to the helpless. And no one is more helpless than a small child. Some people are sick and perverted enough to get off on that, on the power
they hold over small fragile things.’

My heart lies heavy in my chest as I consider her words. I’ve not considered a human protagonist in this at all. I’ve never had to do so.

‘If it’s a human, I’ll have to take the case to the police,’ I say. ‘How do I even do that? I’m a kid myself. Will they even believe me?’

‘You’re a Blackhart, girl. We hold some influence with mundane human authority.’

I scrub my eyes and yawn. ‘I feel completely lost in the middle of this,’ I tell her, surprising myself. ‘I feel like I’m treading water.’

She narrows her eyes at me through the smoke and points with her cigarette. ‘Talk to your partner about this. I’m sure he has some insights. Make sure you visit the estate again,
talk to those kids. They’ll know more than they think. Find the one thing that links the disappeared children. It will be something unexpected, unusual; I bet my next packet of
Marlboro’s on it.’

‘I’ve spoken to one of the Infernal about the case,’ I tell her. ‘Miron. Do you think he’d tell me if Lilith’s involved in this?’

‘If Lilith’s involved, the whole world would know. Lilith never ever does anything on a small scale, this restrained. It’s not in her nature. And Miron would tell you, I have
no doubt, but he will not offer any assistance. No, I do not think it’s Lilith, but it’s worth keeping an eye on her. She’s been quiet for a very long time now and I’m sure
we’re due some kind of show from her.’

I groan and pretend to sob. ‘I’m so tired.’

‘Go home, get some rest. The helicopter is ready, so is Isak.’

I dutifully stuff my notes into my bag and give her a hug. She holds on to me for a few seconds before gripping my face between her hands.

‘Trust your gut, girl. You’re a Blackhart.’ Her lips are cool against my forehead. ‘You have good instincts: follow them.’

With her words still ringing in my ears I make my way through the dark, dappled interior of her remote fortress of a home, up to the helipad where Isak’s waiting patiently for me.

He helps me into the back without a word, passes me my earphones and makes sure my harness is strapped. Despite the noise, I fall asleep before we even lift off.

I hit the ground running, sword in hand, ignoring all the safety instructions my nan ever gave me about running with sharp objects. The dogs behind me are getting closer and I
need to try and get to safety.

They’re huge monstrous beasts with slavering red mouths and lolling tongues. They are also sickeningly fast and have fanned out behind me so that I can’t slip sideways into the
forest.

The forester Crow’s lessons on reading the forest are uppermost in my mind. I remember the Fae’s tips on how to use it to my advantage as I propel my magic ahead to seek the safest
path through the trees. My legs are pumping so fast it feels as if I’m careering heedlessly along and my heart is pounding so hard against my ribs that I can’t catch a decent
breath.

Behind me the sound of a hunting horn echoes through the early morning dawn air and an involuntary gasp of fear escapes me at how bloody near it sounds, right on my heels.

Fear spikes through me and my magic rockets ahead – it almost feels as though it’s pulling me along in its wake and I’m helplessly following along. I’m aware of the
ancient forest feeling quite intensely
interested
in me as I race along.

The hunting dogs’ masters are closer too, from the horns’ sounds; they seem as feral and wild as their hounds.

I desperately wish for Aiden in wolf form by my side. He’d give these dogs something to think about. Then I burst through the undergrowth into a clearing filled with a sea of tall grass
the colour of midnight sky. I stumble over my own feet in surprise, the colour so unexpected and yet so beautifully vibrant against the lush green of the surrounding forest, Then the first dog
hurls itself towards me from the forest’s shadows. I swipe a blow at its side, then there’s movement behind me and I’m running again.

In the clearing, perhaps because of the open space, my magic soars high above the grass. I hurl heedlessly along behind it, pumping my arms and thanking Jamie for the level of fitness he expects
of us.

The dogs are now further behind, which is peculiar because they should be faster now too. I risk a glance over my shoulder and notice how they’re slowing even more until their handlers
have caught up. They huddle in a mess of fur and fang on the edge of the clearing and I slow down to a light jog too, wondering what’s going on. Of course, it could be a ploy to make me let
my guard down, but something has changed. I come to a standstill and watch them mill around in confusion, as if they’ve lost track of me.

With my magic buzzing in and around me I lift my hand and wave at them. Nothing. The dogs are circling their handlers, whining and growling, while the hunters seem oblivious to my presence a
mere two hundred metres or so away from them. Their voices are loud and angry as they discuss where I’ve gone. I turn and jog deeper into the clearing, keeping a grip on my sword, taking deep
steadying breaths.

‘You do get into some interesting situations,’ a familiar voice tells me and I start with fright.

Thorn’s eyes fix on the point of my sword hovering millimetres from his throat, and he lifts an elegant eyebrow. ‘This is how you greet me after such a long time?’

‘You’re not real,’ I tell him, my voice definitely not catching on the word
real.

‘But I am real, Kit.’ Ignoring the tip of the blade, he presses forward until it dents his skin but even so I don’t drop my arm. ‘It is important that you believe
me.’

‘What are you doing here?’ My voice isn’t even, which I blame on being out of breath, but the thudding of my heart has nothing to do with the run I’ve just had and
everything to do with seeing his stupid beautiful face and impossible eyes. ‘Why were they chasing me and how come they can’t see me now? What is this place?’

He makes an impatient noise. ‘My will is shielding us from them, for now. I don’t know how long it will fool them. We have to be quick and get you away from here.’ His
expression becomes very serious. ‘You are facing great peril, Blackhart . . .’

My lips twist because when am I not in danger? Before I can say anything, he continues. ‘Much more than you can imagine.’ He sighs impatiently and wraps his fingers around my blade,
pushing it away and down. He shows me his palms and I’m not surprised by how fast the wounds heal, or by the soft hum of his magic against my skin. These things are as familiar to me as my
own face in the mirror. ‘Are you paying attention now?’

I nod mutely and sway towards Thorn, all thoughts of self-preservation and things being impossible gone. I feel the steady beating of his heart through his tunic as he folds me against him. He
holds me close for a few seconds before kissing me softly on the lips. The kiss is sweet and chaste, but it makes my blood thunder in my ears and I’m grateful he’s holding on to me or
my knees would have given way.

‘Where are we?’

‘In our dreams.’

It’s cheesy and silly, but I don’t care because I want to believe it. A thought occurs to me. ‘
When
are we?’

He looks surprised, but then seems to understand why I asked the question. ‘When? We’re now, Kit. Right now. I’ve been here all along, trying to find you, calling you. I know
you heard me. I felt it.’ He searches my face. ‘You heard me calling you, didn’t you?’

I blink at him in confusion. ‘I . . . don’t . . . Maybe. Thorn, what is going on? Who are they?’

‘They’ve been sent to hunt you down. You know so much already. You are in awful danger, Kit.’

‘I am always facing some kind of trouble, Thorn.’ My words draw a growl from him and he shifts against me.

‘No time for games, Blackhart. Listen.’

His tone is angry and intense; it startles me. Only one person has ever spoken to me in that way – Uncle Jamie, the night he told me about being a Blackhart.

I nod and for a moment there’s hesitation in his face, then he presses a finger to my lips and tilts his head to the side. I realize that he actually meant me to
listen.

For several heartbeats I hear nothing. And then I hear it, the sound I heard in my dream of the ruined palace. A great mass shifting ponderously in a too-tight place; it sounds like metal chains
and pain. It’s heavy and unhealthy, somehow.

‘What is that?’

Thorn opens his mouth and a look of confusion comes over his face. He shakes his head, his hand moving to his throat in alarm. He tries to speak again but there’s no sound. Then he’s
moving a few paces away, his shoulders tense as he tries to take deep breaths. Panic rises in my chest when he turns to look at me. His face is pale and his eyes show fear.

‘Can’t . . .’ He points to his throat. ‘Talk to you about, uh . . .’ He starts coughing, doubling over with the violence of it.

Geas.
The thought whispers through my mind. Not so long ago Thorn and I watched his friend struggle to tell us crucial information. But a spell had been placed on him, and this geas
left him unable to speak the words.

‘I miss you,’ I tell him, staggering myself by just blurting it out while he’s having his episode. Never let it be said I can’t be appropriate or timely, but if I could
distract him, maybe the geas could be bypassed. It was a long shot but in any case, these were things I needed to say. ‘I think about you every day.’

‘Kit.’ My name is a sigh from his lips and he sounds wretched. I can’t help the stupid grin on my face, not caring that I have actual tears in my eyes.

‘Tell me quickly. We need to figure out how to do this. You must give me a hint about what’s going on because I can’t guess.’

He tries to smile at my efforts to work this out and makes another attempt. ‘Her?’ He reaches for me and I move towards him. ‘Her . . .’ His voice is a growl and he
starts shaking. ‘Sweet Gaia, what is going
on
with me?’

‘You mentioned this mysterious
her
before – the last time we met,’ I say, holding his hands and twining my fingers in his. ‘Come on, Thorn. Talk to me. See if
you can move past this. It has to be a geas. You must be able to break it.’

He bends his head over mine and tilts my face up so that he can look down at me.

‘Kit Blackhart, as I live and breathe.’ His hand cups my face and he kisses me softly, tentatively. ‘Your lips are as soft as I remember.’ He traces a finger over my
cheek, touches my temple and runs a hand through my hair. ‘And you really missed me?’

I laugh and lean into him, locking my arms behind his neck and pressing my lips against his.

‘Yes.’

His kiss melts my bones and I cling to him like some Thirties starlet embracing her leading man, drowning in him. He mutters something against my lips and I feel the muscles in his shoulders
flex as he brings me closer still so I am held tightly against him. I peer at him through my lashes and I’m happy to see how drunk he looks from the kiss, his eyes unfocused and his handsome
face unguarded. He sees my expression and gives a sly grin, seeming to like this game of distraction we’re playing, trying to get past the geas.

‘She’s the one you . . .’ And then he starts coughing so violently and gasping for breath that I have to brace him otherwise he’d topple over. As I get my shoulder under
his, I catch movement in the corner of my eye and gasp in shock.

The pack of dogs and their handlers are hurtling towards us. Whatever protection we had is now gone, leaving us exposed in the middle of the open clearing with Thorn’s weight dragging me
down.

‘Thorn, come on. Get going. They’re coming for us.’

I push him upright and when he dizzily tries to focus on my face, I feel both concerned and panicky at his sudden frailty. I’m not sure if he wore a glamour earlier or if he’s
glamoured now, because he looks genuinely ill, with heavy dark circles under his eyes as if he hasn’t slept in weeks.

‘Thorn, we have to run. Can you run?’

He nods and then we’re running. I’m yelling at him to keep up and then he falls and . . .

Lilith is a demon, a relic from biblical times. There are many stories about her – mostly about how evil she was and how she stole human children when her own demon
children were hunted down and killed on the instructions of a bunch of angels. Just thinking about it gives me severe creeps and I really hope I never have the opportunity of going up against her
– because, really, how do you go up against a creature like her? She would be Mama-Bear-tough and insane. I doubt that my sword and bit of magic would be enough to hold out against her for
even two minutes.