Winter's Light (16 page)

Chapter 26

Winter lay awake listening to Jasmine snore softly beside her on the inflatable mattress. Even without the noise she doubted she’d be able to sleep. Her mind whirred like crazy, jumping from subject to subject, keeping her on edge. She thought about Sam, his body broken because he’d tried to protect her; Yuri’s lies and the heartbreak they’d cause Lucy; his wife Elena and her sapphire eyes that seemed to know too much. And Winter thought about Blake, always her thoughts returned to him. She’d hoped Jasmine might have stayed awake a little longer to keep her company, but as soon as they’d finished talking, her friend had rolled over and gone to sleep, eager to put this night behind her.

Winter didn’t blame Jas. She just wished she could do the same. Listening to the house sounds in the dark, it occurred to her that Jasmine hadn’t asked a single question about Sam. They’d discussed Blake, the lodestone, Benedict and Sidaris, the attack on the beach, but once the conversation had turned to Sam, Jasmine had been quick to steer it away. Whatever her feelings were, she was keeping them close to her chest for now. Sam had lied to Jasmine, in much the same way Yuri had tricked Lucy – using her to get close to Winter and, therefore, Blake. She was entitled to bear him a grudge.

Feeling a little claustrophobic beneath the thick comforter Elena had given them, Winter kicked it off. The cloying scent of elderflower was getting to her too. Beneath the window, the oil burner’s tiny tea light flickered orange and yellow in the shadows. While she appreciated the protection it afforded, the fragrance was too much. What she needed was some fresh air. And maybe a mug of warm milk. The longer she thought about this idea, the more attractive it became. Warm milk had helped her sleep in the past, and even if it didn’t tonight, getting up and making it would give her something to do. It certainly beat lying here, staring worriedly into the darkness. Winter rolled off the mattress and quietly pulled on her jeans.

The house was silent as she passed through the hallway, the floorboards creaking faintly beneath her feet. Approaching Sam’s room, she considered checking in on him. However, as she placed her hand on the cool doorknob, a scattershot of burbled words gave her pause. Sam talking in his sleep. The poor guy had been through an ordeal tonight – just thinking about his black and blue face made her wince. Let him rest.

Stepping through the doorway, Winter didn’t bother turning on the light. There was a dream-like blue wash spilling in through the window from the street lamps outside. As she walked across the chilly tiled floor, something through the window caught her eye. A flicker of movement.

Winter’s heart froze in her chest. The front lawn of Yuri and Elena’s house was full of cats. At least a hundred or so – maybe more! Cats of all breeds and sizes, some wearing collars, others clearly feral, their mangy fur matted with dirt and leaves. It wasn’t only the huge number of them that unnerved Winter, but their stillness. Put two cats near each other and they will invariably hiss and spit, but this small army, this
clowder
seemed unperturbed to be bunched together. They just sat there on the grass, tails swishing eerily in the night air, glowing eyes staring up at the house.

It wasn’t the first time she’d seen such an unsettling sight. Three months ago her backyard had been plagued with a similar clowder of cats. Blake had sent them to protect her from the Skivers.
Cats are friends to the Demori
, he’d explained to her.

She knew why the cats were here. Not for protection but for surveillance. Intimidation.

Benedict had sent them.

Gulping nervously, she looked past the cats to the street beyond.
Where was he?
The cats’ master. Any second she expected to see a pair of green eyes glittering wickedly in the shadows.

‘Spooky, isn’t it?’

Winter jumped, whirling around to see Yuri sitting at the kitchen table. He was smoking a cigarette. The ember flared a brilliant crimson for a second as he inhaled.

‘You scared me,’ she said, letting out a long, trembling breath.

‘I’m sorry.’ Yuri stubbed out the cigarette on a small china plate stained with ash and butts. ‘I usually smoke outside but tonight I thought it would be safer if I stayed indoors. Do you know why the cats are here?’

‘Benedict sent them.’

‘Yes.’ He took out another cigarette and lit it, the lighter splashing the lower half of his face with a dirty orange glow. ‘I’d hoped he wouldn’t be able to find us but the Demori’s reach is long. I came in here about half an hour ago to get my lighter and that’s when I saw them.’

‘Why are you sitting in the dark?’

He nodded at the window. ‘I didn’t want to risk stirring them up. Wait a minute.’ He stood and retrieved a small cylindrical object from one of the cupboards over the fridge. A candle. ‘There, that’s better,’ he said after lighting it. The candle’s weak flame conjured a small patch of the kitchen out of the murk. Yuri looked tired and older than his years in the flickering light.

‘Can I get you anything?’ he said, keeping his voice low. ‘Make you a sandwich or something? You’re probably still very weak.’

‘I was just going to grab a glass of milk. Sometimes it helps me relax.’ She didn’t want to linger here with Yuri longer than she had to. The man made her uncomfortable, despite his repeated offers to make her food.

‘Help yourself. In Stalingrad, my mother used to heat milk over the stove when I was little and had a nightmare. I had lots of nightmares. She called it her dream potion. Said it would keep all the monsters out of my head.’

‘Did it work?’ Winter asked, pausing as she took the milk from the fridge.

‘In a way,’ Yuri said, leaning back in his chair so his features were no longer clear in the candlelight. ‘The monsters left my head but found me in the waking world. Found my mother as well.’

‘The Demori killed your mother?’

Yuri didn’t respond straightaway, and when he did it wasn’t to answer her question. ‘I spoke to Sam about your Blake.’

‘No kidding?’
He is very clever this one
, Winter thought as she took the milk from the fridge and poured herself a glass.

‘He told me many interesting things. About a diary and a mad sister. It seems we might have been . . . hasty in condemning Blake. Maybe he wasn’t what we thought he was.’

Winter nearly choked on her milk. ‘
Maybe
? You guys hunted Blake his whole life, accused him of being a monster, murdered him for all intents and purposes and now you think you maybe had things wrong? Wow!’ She shook her head, marvelling at Yuri’s gall. ‘Thank you. I’ve just completely re-evaluated my opinion of the Bane. You really are the good guys.’

‘Calm down,’ Yuri said, lowering his voice in an effort to make Winter lower hers.

She did so, begrudgingly, but her tone remained strident. ‘Calm down? Blake was innocent!’

‘“Innocent” is a subjective term.’ A ghost of a smile twitched at the corner of Yuri’s lips. It was an unpleasant smile. ‘Elena hates me smoking,’ he said, holding up the cigarette. ‘Which is why I wait until she goes to sleep. I know it’s bad for me, but I can’t help myself. I look at a cigarette and I just want one. My brain stops working properly. Sometimes we’re drawn to dangerous things, aren’t we?’

Winter stared levelly at Yuri, trying to figure out whether he thought he was being subtle in the use of such a clumsy analogy, or if he was trying to provoke an angry reaction from her. She quickly decided it was probably the latter.

‘I’ll see you in the morning, Yuri,’ she said through gritted teeth.

‘Wait,’ Yuri said, lightly taking hold of her arm before she left.

Winter bristled at his touch. ‘What?’

‘What if I told you I could help you see him again? Blake.’

She sighed, frustrated with his game playing. In one breath he insulted her, in the other he offered her false hope. ‘I’d probably think you were lying to me.’

‘I’m not lying.’ He gestured to the seat opposite him. ‘Please, sit down. Just give me a minute to explain.’

Winter hesitated. Trusting Yuri was a dangerous – no, foolish – proposition. Still, it was
Blake
. She couldn’t turn her back on the chance that he was telling the truth. Reluctantly, she sat.

‘I’m listening,’ she said, watching him cautiously over the flame.

‘Before you came in,’ Yuri began, slowly stubbing out his cigarette on the plate, ‘I was sitting here thinking about what you told me tonight. About the lodestone and what it showed you. The vision.’ He paused, the hum of the fridge rushing in to fill the gaps between his words. ‘I believe your Blake is alive in a place called the Dead Lands.’

Winter couldn’t stop her eyes from widening as he voiced aloud her own intuition.

‘I see the name is familiar to you,’ Yuri said, studying her reaction. ‘I wasn’t sure how much you knew.’

‘How can you be sure?’ Winter asked, declining to mention that not only had she heard of the Dead Lands, she’d actually seen it with her own eyes.

Yuri puffed his cheeks out thoughtfully. ‘A simple process of elimination. Blake died in the church on the mountain. His body, as I understand it, was cremated. Correct?’

She nodded quickly, trying to ignore the twinge of pain in her chest.

‘Yet the lodestone showed him alive,’ Yuri continued. ‘Such a miracle could only occur in the Dead Lands. Only the Malfaerie have that kind of power.’

‘But how —?’

‘I don’t have any answers for you, Winter. Only theories. Our knowledge of the Dead Lands is painfully limited.’

‘You said you could help me.’

‘The Bonnaire family has been trying to mount an expedition to the Dead Lands for some time. We are at war with the Demori, Winter. We think the Dead Lands may hold secrets, secrets that, were we to discover them, might ensure our victory in the battle ahead. After all, knowledge is power, right?’

Winter shook her head, uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking. ‘I don’t want anything to do with your war.’

Yuri smiled again, that same annoyingly condescending smile. ‘Of course you don’t, my dear. But you do want your Blake back and we may be your only way of achieving this.’ He shrugged. ‘You help us, we help you.’

‘How? How can I help you? I have no idea what you’re talking about.’ She felt like she was missing some larger point.

‘Have you ever heard of the Black Mirror?’

The name resonated with Winter but it took her a moment to remember where she’d heard it. Of course – the Velasco Place. Blake had told her about the Black Mirror and how it had been used by an oracle named Lamara to open a portal to the Dead Lands.

‘Yes,’ she said, aware that her heartbeat had started to quicken. For the first time during their conversation, the possibility of seeing Blake again started to seem real.

‘You know then of its power?’

Again, Winter nodded, impatient for him to continue.

Maddeningly, Yuri paused, as though consciously prolonging the suspense. ‘We have it. Unfortunately, we can’t use it. The doorway is locked to us. We need a Key. We need you.’

The Dead Lands

Entering the portal was like stepping into the gaping mouth of some great and terrible beast. Lamara was swallowed whole. The world fell away and for a second or two there was nothing but darkness. In this brief moment, she experienced terror unlike anything she’d felt before. Spending eternity in this black, formless void had to be worse than death. Worse even than being taken up by Menmlok, Guardian of the Long Shadows.

Then she saw light in the distance. A faint emerald light, pulsing with the rhythm of her heartbeat. Lamara pushed herself towards the light, swimming through the darkness as though it were water. But it was her mind not her arms and legs that propelled her forward. Only by concentrating on the light, could she move.

It grew stronger, filling her vision. So brilliant that she was forced to close her eyes against it, but still the light bled through. Her skin began to tingle all over, followed by a tightening sensation, like she was being squeezed through a gap that was too small for her. Before it became painful, the tightness eased. The light blazed brighter than ever, filling her entire head and body, and then it dimmed, disappearing.

Lamara felt the atmosphere change. It became lighter. A warm breeze kissed her face carrying with it a delicious perfume unlike any flower she’d ever held, yet vaguely familiar all the same. Still, it was with some hesitancy that she opened her eyes.

With great relief, Lamara saw she was free of the darkness. She’d travelled through whatever space existed between worlds, and arrived . . . somewhere else. If this was the realm of the gods then it was not at all what she’d expected. For one thing there didn’t seem to be any ground.

Suddenly she was falling. Falling towards a sea of grey clouds, rolling and churning far below. Amazingly, this prospect didn’t alarm her. In fact, she could feel little except a lulling calmness.

There was a smattering of emerald stars in the distance, winking against the blackness of the sky like unearthly campfires. A soft glow on the horizon – this too, the emerald shade of the stars. As she squinted, searching for the sun or moon that gave off such luminescence, a huge shadow lurking just below the clouds drew her attention.

What she first took to be the peak of a mountain broke through the misty surface. The closer she fell, the more obvious it became that this was no landmass, but a building of some kind. The top of a gargantuan tower, far larger than any structure she’d ever seen before. In fact, her entire village would fit inside its circumference. Not only was it vast, it was alive with dazzling emerald lights, as though some of the stars had fallen from the sky and become embedded in its walls.

Surely this was where the gods lived!

The clouds rolled over the tower once more hiding it from sight. Lamara marked the place where the tower had been and by twisting her body angled towards it. She shot through the sky like a spear, plunging into the swirling vapour, losing herself in its grey heart. Immediately, Lamara became disorientated. There was no horizon, just thick, shadowy mist, lit intermittently by dazzling bursts of emerald light. This light fascinated Lamara. She
had
to find its source.

The mists thinned and Lamara tumbled out on the other side of the cloud sea. Fanning her arms, she righted herself, and realised she’d been mistaken about the tower. It wasn’t the dwelling place of the gods or not the
sole
dwelling place in any respect. She fell through a gap between five such towers and could see countless more – not just towers, but other buildings and structures. They rose up all around, dwarfing her with their grandeur and magnitude. She was like a leaf, drifting on a breeze through an ancient forest, floating towards the ground.

No, not floating. Falling. Tearing her eyes away from the wondrous towers, Lamara saw this strange world did have a ground and she was only seconds away from striking it. In the back of her mind there was an itch; an emotion struggling to register.

Fear.

The more she focused on this emotion, the less power the calming perfume held. Lamara started to panic, a soundless scream building in her throat. She was going to die. Was this what had happened to the old farseer? He’d travelled to this world only to fall to his death. Lamara closed her eyes as the ground approached and thought of her mother.

I’m sorry. I’m . . .

The sound of rushing air forced her to open her eyes again. She gasped as two strong arms wrapped tightly around her mid section, gently slowing her descent before, impossibly, guiding her upwards. Lamara was no longer falling – she was flying.

Flying towards the top of the nearest tower, by far the most ornate and magnificent of the structures she could see. Twisting in her saviour’s embrace, Lamara stared in shocked awe. A man held her. His face was pale, the colour of fresh snow with a slightly blue tint. His features were perfectly sculpted if delicate – as though the best of both man and woman had been combined together. Save for his eyebrows and the thick black waves that blew back from his brow, his face was free of hair. The flying man’s skin looked inhumanly smooth and hard, like a stone one might find on a riverbed.

Lamara opened her mouth and asked, ‘Are you a god?’ Her voice was barely a whisper, the words being snatched away before they even left her lips. Still, he seemed to hear her for a slight smile curled the corners of his dark lips. He glanced down at her with eyes that glittered like the emerald stars far above.

I am, Lamara of the Grey Wolves
, she heard him answer, his deep voice echoing through her mind in a language she didn’t understand but did.

You will call me Elumen Var.

Elumen Var? Her people had never spoken of a god with such a name but if this being was not a god then what was he? Lamara stared into the god’s eyes trying to accept the miracle. She’d succeeded, crossed over from one world to the next. Still, even in these extraordinary circumstances, her mind reeling with everything her wide-eyed stare could drink in, doubt lurked. It was her heart where the doubt originated. Shouldn’t she feel exalted in the presence of a divine being? Her soul suffused with religious awe?

It was the god’s eyes that troubled her. A strange expression she’d noticed there – hunger sharpened by a wicked delight, like a starving wolf finding a stray lamb. As they soared ever closer to the top of the nearest tower, a dreadful realisation began to form.

Something terrible was going to happen to her.