Winter's Shadow (33 page)

‘The Malfaerie have a ruling body of elders. They may be able to help you,’ Blake said, before adding somewhat cautiously, ‘that is, if they allow me to speak to them.’

Despite the faint promise of hope held by Blake’s answer, Winter didn’t like the uncertainty she saw on his face. ‘Why wouldn’t they speak to you?’

‘Demori are half-breeds. The Malfaerie despise us for this, even while they’re jealous of our ability to Travel.’ He exhaled wearily. ‘I don’t see that we have any other choice. I have to try.’

It suddenly dawned on Winter that Blake was planning on leaving her alone in the house. Fresh panic bloomed. ‘You’re going to leave me here? The Skivers —’

‘I told you, you’re safe in the house.’

‘I’d feel safer with some protection. Like a gun or something.’

‘A gun wouldn’t do any good. Besides, I’m not leaving you alone.’

Blake nodded towards the tabby, who was resting his head in Winter’s lap. Winter looked down at the cat and back to Blake, wondering if he’d lost his mind or just developed a really bad sense of humour.

‘You’re serious?
He’s
supposed to protect me?’

‘His name’s Nefertem and he’s been protecting you this whole time. The ancient Pharaohs were mummified with their cats because they believed the animals could guard them from evil spirits on their journey to the afterlife. They were no fools.’

Realising he was being serious, a question occurred to her, ‘Did you send him to my house? And the other cats?’

‘Yes. The cats are friends to the Demori. They listen to me.’

Blake leaned across the coffee table and picked up Nefertem, holding him up to his eye level. The fat tabby’s cheeks spilled over the edges of Blake’s hands.

‘You’ll look after Winter, won’t you, Nefertem?’ he asked, staring deeply into the cat’s yellow eyes. Nefertem blinked sleepily and yawned. Blake smiled in satisfaction as if that was the precise answer he was looking for, and sat the cat down on the coffee table. Winter watched him in bewilderment, feeling as if she’d stepped into the middle of a school play without knowing the script.

‘I nearly forgot,’ Blake said, reaching into his pocket. ‘I was trying to pick the right moment to give this to you.’ He pulled out something metal that glittered in the firelight. ‘I suppose now is as good a time as any.’

He opened his hand and showed Winter what was lying in his palm. It was a gold chain with a small green crystal shard adorning it.

‘What is it?’ Winter asked, mesmerised by the way the rough facets of the crystal reflected the firelight.

‘A lodestone.’ Blake reached over and hung it delicately around her neck. She shivered as his fingers lightly brushed against her skin. While the chain was cool, the crystal itself gave off a mild, comforting heat. ‘If you need me, simply hold the stone and say my name. I’ll come as soon as I can.’

Winter looked at him dubiously. ‘It’s a magic necklace?’

Blake returned her incredulous look. ‘After everything I’ve told you, you find that hard to believe?’ Winter supposed he had a point. ‘Don’t use it unless you absolutely have to.’

Winter rolled the crystal between her fingers. ‘Thank you. I wish I could give you something back.’

‘You can.’ Blake’s eyes darted away from Winter. ‘But I’m afraid to ask.’

He stood and walked to the centre of the room where he paused on the edge of the flickering firelight, his back to her.

Confused by his reticence, Winter followed him. She
touched him lightly on the shoulder, turning him around to face her. ‘Don’t be. I’ll give you anything I can.’

Blake took a deep breath. ‘Will you kiss me?’

All Winter’s other concerns were momentarily over-whelmed by Blake’s question.
He wanted to kiss her?
While the idea of such a request would have left her weak at the knees mere hours ago, since that time Winter had learned some things that gave her pause. How close had she come to disappearing completely into Blake’s embrace on the beach last night?

Something about her reaction must have keyed Blake into this reservation, because he began to backtrack. ‘I’m sorry, Winter. You don’t have to —’

‘No. Please . . . I want to,’ she said haltingly. ‘I’m just . . .’

‘Afraid?’

Winter nodded guiltily. ‘And confused. Why do you want to kiss me?’

‘I’m still weak from the last journey. I need some of your energy to make the journey to Krypthia.’

‘You use that line on all the girls?’ she said, awkwardly trying to cover her nervousness.

Blake ignored her joke. This was clearly no laughing matter. ‘You don’t need to be afraid of me, Winter. I can control the hunger.’ It seemed important to him that she understand that last point. He waited for her answer, his face completely open in its vulnerability. She didn’t want to hurt him, but . . .

‘It’s just . . .’

Blake was agreeing with her before she could finish voicing her hesitation. He seemed more than willing to move away from the subject. ‘Forget I asked. I’ll manage. You don’t have to worry —’

‘Blake,’ Winter said, stopping him in his tracks. She walked to where he was standing in the centre of the room. His expression was so tortured that Winter had to restrain herself from throwing her arms around him then and there. Anything to take that pain from his face.

‘Come here,’ she ordered him softly.

Blake took a tentative step towards her, as though afraid
she
might be capable of harming
him
. ‘Are you sure about this?’ he asked one last time, searching her eyes for permission.

‘Yes,’ Winter replied, and lifted her lips to his.

It was different from their first kiss, but no less powerful. There was an element of fear in the act that somehow made it all the more thrilling. Despite Blake’s reassurances, a part of Winter accepted that this could be her last kiss and intended to enjoy every second of it.

So many strong emotions vied for attention – fear, lust, compassion, love. There was a softness to his lips – the way they yielded to hers – that seemed almost feminine; however, the fine stubble on his chin lent a delicious roughness. Winter could feel the firmness of Blake’s tongue, and she eagerly responded in kind, tasting his sweetness and passion.

He cradled her face in his, his thumbs stroking her delicately just below the cheekbones as he pulled
her closer. Winter knew Blake was drinking her now, she could feel herself being drawn into him, but she was surprisingly unafraid. If this was what dying felt like, this losing oneself in the arms of another, then Winter could suffer it gladly. She could suffer it for him . . .

And then the kiss was over and Blake was moving away from her, his face glowing with new vitality.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked her, gripping her shoulders in concern.

Winter felt light-headed and a little breathless. Wobbling a little unsteadily on her feet, she managed a smile. ‘I’m fine.’

‘You’re sure?’ He was studying her eyes for any hint of a lie.

‘Yes. Was that long enough?’ As foolish as it was, she hoped he would say no.

Blake disappointed her by nodding. ‘Thank you.’

‘What now?’

‘I’ll leave you.’

‘Shouldn’t you wait until it gets dark?’ Winter could see through the crack between the curtains that the light outside was dimming. Twilight would be upon these woods soon enough and his power would be stronger.

Blake shook his head. ‘There isn’t any time to waste. I don’t know how long it will take me to find the answers I need, and you can’t stay here forever.’

Winter hadn’t thought of that. She wondered idly if Lucy had returned home from work yet, and made a mental note to call. Despite the peril of her situation,
Winter didn’t want to put her sister through another night of worry.

Blake walked over to the fire and extinguished it, kicking soot over the embers. Winter put her hand on his arm and the two of them stood in the dying light.

‘Blake . . . ?’

‘Yes?’

‘You don’t have to do this for me.’

Blake leaned over and placed a tender kiss upon her forehead.

‘Yes, I do.’

‘What if something happens while you’re gone?’ Winter asked, fighting to keep the fear out of her voice.

‘It won’t,’ Blake said calmly. ‘But if it does . . .’ He glanced down at the lodestone. ‘Call me. Time to go.’ He took a step back into the deeper darkness of the room. ‘One last thing, Winter.’

‘Yes?’

He paused, lending gravity to what he was about to say. ‘Promise me you won’t go upstairs. No matter what you hear. It’s not safe.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Promise me,’ he insisted.

‘I promise,’ Winter said, and chastised herself for the worm of curiosity that had already started to thread its way through her conviction.
What was upstairs?

Now that the embers had died away completely, the room was almost pitch black, save for the faint light finding its way in between the crack in the curtains. By
this meagre illumination Winter could see that Blake was frightened.

‘See you soon,’ he said quietly.

Winter watched Blake’s eyes glittering in the dark, and then grew aware that the air around them was suddenly charged with electricity. The fine hair on her arms stood on end as her entire body reacted to the invisible power that was building. Green sparks ignited around Blake, etching him in light. There was a sound like a thunderclap and then he was gone. He’d Travelled, leaving behind him the faintest trace of perfume: the scent of the Dead Lands.

Winter remained in the living room a moment longer, studying the space where his silhouette had just stood, before accepting she was now by herself. It seemed so quiet in the house. She could hear the foundations creaking, the grandfather clock ticking, and the rain outside as it fell upon the roof.

Without the comforting presence of Blake, the dark of the living room contained a menace it had previously lacked. It felt alive, this darkness. Unnerved, Winter quickly left to find somewhere brighter to wait.

Winter wandered through Blake’s kitchen, turning the light on with one hand, holding her phone with the other.

‘Luce, I told you last week that I was going to spend the night at Jasmine’s. Don’t you remember?’ Of course she had told Lucy no such thing, but was gambling on the fact that her sister was too preoccupied with the various aspects of her own life to remember this.

‘Did you? I must have forgotten.’ Lucy didn’t sound entirely convinced that the fault lay with her, but at least she wasn’t upset with Winter. ‘It’s a shame, because I’m making a stir-fry tonight. Y’know, with cashew nuts and tiny pieces of carrot. You love that, right?’

Winter did love it when her mother had made it. Unfortunately, Lucy’s version of the dish resembled it in name only.

‘Save some for me. I’ll eat it tomorrow.’

‘Okay. Have fun with Jasmine tonight – what time should I expect you home tomorrow?’

It suddenly dawned on Winter that there was the very real possibility that she might never see Lucy again. It made her sadder to think of Lucy’s reaction to her death than to contemplate it herself.

‘Sooner rather than later,’ Winter replied. ‘Bye, Luce.’