Winter's Light (24 page)

Chapter 37

The trip through Paris was over all too quickly, the sights disappointingly limited to whatever Winter could see rushing past the tinted windows of Marcel’s black van. To add to her disappointment the landscape she did see was almost uniformly drab and uninteresting. Where was the romanticism and charm she’d seen in movies and read about in books? The narrow cobblestone streets, the artfully crooked terraces, the bustling open-space cafés?

Only once did Winter see the Eiffel Tower again, when the buildings on her left thinned and a space opened up. Paris’s most famous landmark rose up in the misty golden morning light, proud and beautiful. For a split second, she glimpsed the Paris of her imagination and then it was gone again, obscured by a red brick wall sprayed with graffiti and pigeon droppings.

During the trip Marcel kept up a steady commentary on his city’s history and its famous landmarks. Round about the time they sped through their fifth set of traffic lights – the light clearly flashing red – leaving a blast of horns in their wake, it dawned on Winter that Marcel’s tour guide act was something of a mask. He was trying to keep her distracted from the fact that they were speeding through the city on purpose. Every now and again Marcel would break off his cheery chatter and mutter something to Elena, the urgency of their exchange clear despite the language barrier.

Winter was going to quietly ask Sam to translate but he had fallen asleep yet again. She was starting to suspect he might suffer from narcolepsy. Jasmine too had passed out shortly after they’d started the journey. Her head had fallen against Sam’s shoulder. The two looked so cute together that it made Winter feel a little sad. She’d never had the opportunity to share this kind of quiet moment with Blake.

Sighing, Winter turned back to the window, rested her head against the glass and watched the city slide by. They passed through the thickly congested traffic of Paris’s business centre and into the vaguely apocalyptic outskirts. The road they were travelling thickened to two lanes and then four, becoming a highway as they left the city behind.

Now the French landscape showed some of its beauty. First a few scattered cottages sprung up, surrounded by acres of flat farmland. These then gave way to rolling green and brown hills stitched with leafy grape vines. Marcel picked up speed and Winter’s instinct that they were racing towards, or away, from something grew stronger.

‘. . . and those vineyards you can see past the cows on the left belong to the famous Champagne region,’ Marcel was saying, his accented voice disguising any anxiety she might have detected. ‘This name does not refer to a specific —’

‘Why are we driving so fast? Is something wrong?’ Winter asked, growing tired of the charade.

Marcel’s eyes flicked to her in the rearview mirror, regarding her curiously. ‘No, no, no. Of course not.’

‘You might as well tell her the truth,’ Elena said. Her head was still buried in the novel.

Marcel muttered something softly to Elena that sounded like a caution, which she responded to with an impatient flurry of sentences. Winter could understand only one word in their quick conversation:
Demori
.

Marcel sighed. ‘I apologise, Winter. I was unsure of how much you knew of the situation.’

‘I’m a big girl. Tell me what’s going on.’

Marcel nodded. ‘Okay, okay. First, it is important that you know there is nothing for you or your friends to fear. Nothing at all. We have simply been experiencing some troubles with the Demori lately.’

‘Troubles?’

Marcel cleared his throat. ‘Um . . . yes. There have been incidents at night. Some men have gone missing. Nothing serious,’ Marcel said, his casual, off-hand manner doing nothing to allay her growing concern. ‘Still, it would probably be best for us to be within the castle walls before the sun sets.’

Winter craned her neck against the window to ascertain the sun’s location. It burned a hole in the sky ahead of them, already having passed the zenith of its arc. Evening was four or five hours away at most.

‘Nothing to be afraid of . . .’

‘No. Absolutely not. Enjoy the drive,’ Marcel replied cheerily, oblivious to the sarcasm in Winter’s response.

Chapter 38

It was nearly five when they turned off the highway onto a small winding road. Marcel reassured Winter that they were very close, that this road in fact would take them all the way to the castle. When Winter asked him where the castle was, he pointed at a range of shadowy grey mountains in the middle distance.

‘There, my little Winter,’ he said, ‘behind those mountains lies our safety. Not far now.’ There was something about his forced optimism that didn’t ring true. Her mind kept turning to what he had said about the troubles with the Demori. Restlessly her eyes scanned the foothills out the window, looking for flashes of fur darting through the rippling wild grass. Looking for cats.

Just as the daylight took on a burnished quality, the sun losing its claim on the sky, they began their climb into the mountain range proper. The air in the car cooled, prompting Marcel to put on the heater. Winter wiped away the condensation forming on the glass, continuing her cautious watch. Sharply pointed fir and spruce trees shot up on either side of the road, reminding her of Owl Mountain’s forest-blanketed slopes. The trees here seemed taller somehow, thicker; more ominous in their unfamiliarity.

The road became so narrow that at certain points they were forced to slow to a crawl. Winter was glad of Marcel’s intense concentration when they were creeping around a particularly frightening hairpin turn, and she happened to glance down. The van’s wheels were mere inches from the edge of the road, and a drop of several hundred feet down into a rocky ravine.

She didn’t dare look down again and just hoped Marcel was as good a driver as he was a talker.

The mood in the van grew oppressive – so much so that Winter was prompted to wind down the window a crack, hoping to relieve the mounting tension. Blasted by a gust of icy wind, she quickly wound it back up again. She considered asking Marcel to put on the radio. Anything to distract her from her own restless anxiety.

It was becoming impossible not to think about Benedict. Could the Demori track her from Hagan’s Bluff? The distance was so vast; then again what was distance to a creature that could jump between shadows?

The trees seemed to sink into the ground on their right side as the mountain sloped away from the car more steeply, revealing the horizon. Across the valley, Winter could see a wide bank of storm clouds rolling towards them from the west. Lightning pulsed in the voluminous grey-black depths followed by a rumble of thunder.

The distant sound caused Jasmine to stir, her comically drawn-out yawn filling the uneasy silence of the car. Not quite alert, Jasmine stretched her arms up to the roof, the languorous movement succeeding in also waking Sam. He glanced over and smiled in surprise at Jasmine, still nestled against his shoulder. She went bright red and pushed herself off him.

‘Sorry,’ she mumbled, reddening even more when she noticed the patch of drool she’d left on his jacket.

Sam shrugged off her apology and looked out the window, his lips twitching.

‘How long was I out?’ Jasmine asked Winter, smoothing down her rumpled shirt.

‘A couple of hours,’ Winter said, smirking at Jasmine’s flushed face.

‘A couple of hours? You shouldn’t have let me sleep! Now I’m not going to be able to tonight.’

Winter had the impression Jasmine was more irritated that Winter had let her sleep on Sam than anything else, but didn’t say anything. It was good to have someone to distract her from her own thoughts. An itch had started at the back of her mind – a sensation separate from the approaching nightfall and the threat it represented. The more she tried to ignore this itch, the more pronounced it became, building to a hazy premonition.

Something evil lay ahead.

Not the Bane or the Bonnaires or whatever they wanted to call themselves. Something else. As the road took them higher and the trees thinned, Winter began to tremble in nameless fear.

The van crested a rise, prompting Jasmine to gasp, ‘Would you look at that!’

Almost like a reflex, the muscles at the back of Winter’s eyes tightened and she summoned the Sight. Through the windshield the road sloped down, disappearing into a forest of black trees. Just beyond the trees a few tendrils of chimney smoke could be glimpsed curling into the darkening sky.

‘Ah, you see we are practically home,’ Marcel said, his voice sounding notably relieved. ‘At the bottom of the hill lies the village of Forêt Sinistre, and past it our destination – Castle Vled. Originally a military stronghold for King Charles VII, it has been in the Bonnaire family for three generations.’

‘It looks like something from a movie, doesn’t it?’ Jasmine asked, unable to repress her excitement.

Castle Vled was indeed an awesome sight. Built on a precipice overlooking a crescent-shaped misty canyon, the castle was surrounded by a high stone wall. Only the three towers could be glimpsed reaching past the wall, their crimson conical spires jutting aggressively against the bulbous clouds, which were even now spreading darkly across the sky.

‘I can’t believe we’re staying in a castle,’ Jasmine continued. ‘Win?’ she added, when Winter failed to comment.

In her periphery, Winter saw Jasmine glance over at her with concern.

‘Winnie? Is everything okay?’

No. Nothing was okay. Winter couldn’t answer Jasmine because her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth, dry and useless. All she could do was stare ahead – not at the castle, but at the dark band hovering in the air around the castle. This band was not solid, but instead was made up of dozens of black shapes floating side by side like a string of paper dolls.

The Skivers.

Chapter 39

‘Win, talk to me! What’s the matter?’ Jasmine grabbed Winter’s shoulder and gently shook her. The contact was enough to break the paralysing shock caused by the sight of the Skivers.
Why were they here?!
Panicking, she faced Jasmine and stared into her eyes. Her friend’s Occuluma blazed a reassuring azure shade. Jasmine was in no danger of the Skivers. Sam’s eyes too were free of the dreaded crimson flames.

‘What’s the matter?’ he asked, confused by Winter’s intense scrutiny.

‘What’s going on back there? Car sick?’ Marcel asked, frowning in the rearview mirror. ‘If you’re going to be ill tell me and I’ll pull over.’

‘I . . .’ She licked her lips, trying to generate enough saliva to speak. Her stomach felt queasy; her back sticky with sweat.

So many of them!
Hundreds. If they continued on their current route, they would pass directly beneath the Skiver blockade. This prospect created a fresh bloom of panic.

‘I can see . . . something. Around the castle. Something . . . bad.’

An awful thought occurred to her.

‘Jas, have you got your compact?’

‘Um . . .’ Frowning, Jasmine scooped up her handbag and hunted through the contents. ‘Yep. It’s your lucky day,’ she said, withdrawing a small pink compact.

Winter held the tiny mirror up to her face. Her Occuluma glowed vividly in the mirror’s reflection. Blue and strong.

Letting out a deep sigh of relief, Winter passed the compact back to Jasmine. ‘Thanks.’

‘No problem. What’s with the nervous breakdown?’

‘Yes, Winter, do tell us,’ Elena said, looking over her shoulder from the front seat.

Winter glanced from Elena to Jasmine to Sam, suddenly hesitant to reveal what she’d seen.

‘It’s nothing. I guess I was just overwhelmed by the castle. It’s spooky, you know?’

Elena’s left eyebrow arched at that. She turned back to the front and muttered something under her breath. Sam and Jasmine didn’t seem entirely satisfied with Winter’s answer either, however both had the good sense not to press her. Jasmine did shoot Winter a look though –
you better tell me what’s going on later.

Marcel seemed entertained by Winter’s misgivings. ‘Ah, yes I suppose where you come from you don’t see such things. Don’t be afraid of our old castle. Once inside its walls you will be quite safe.’

We’ll see about that
, Winter thought as she eased back into her seat. They travelled into the shadow of the forest and she lost sight of the castle and the Skivers. She could still feel their presence, itching at her mind like rats scurrying behind walls. After a short spell, the van emerged from the forest and passed through the village of Forêt Sombrè.

Castle Vled loomed ahead, the ring of Skivers a black smear in the air. There was no moat, no drawbridge, but there was a formidable-looking portcullis in the centre of the wall. The way it was raised, iron teeth jutting out from the top of the archway, it looked as though the castle’s mouth was open, ready to take a bite out of them. Above the entrance, flickering torches had been posted at regular intervals along the parapet. Winter could glimpse figures moving between the torches. Guards?

She tried not to look up as they drew close to the wall’s entrance, but the morbid temptation to see the nightmarish spectres again, especially from such a close distance, was too strong. Anxiously, she pressed her face against the window. The Skivers bobbed and swayed in the strong mountain air.

What were they doing? Who were they waiting for?

The cold feeling in her chest intensified, becoming almost unbearable – icy tendrils snaking through her organs. They were more horrible than she remembered. The Skivers in her nightmares were like shadows compared to these monsters. It seemed her subconscious had softened their details, rendered them less terrible. Gazing upon their spindly forms wrapped in leathery, priest-like tunics, their bald, elongated heads, midnight-black eyes and inhumanly wide toothy grins, Winter started to tremble again.

Any moment now one of them would turn its black-eyed, shark’s gaze towards her. The air would fill with the chattering of monstrous teeth and they would fall upon the car, enveloping them like a cloud of locusts. Cruel scissors would flash, souls would be severed . . .

But that didn’t happen. The creatures seemed almost hypnotised, their dreaded attention fixed on a single spot somewhere past the stone walls. Following their malevolent gaze, a thought occurred to Winter – one that was both comforting and puzzling. The Skivers wanted someone inside the castle, but were prevented from entering. That was why they’d formed the ring – they were laying siege.

Marcel slowed the van as they approached the entrance. Guards dressed in dark fatigues holding crossbows were walking towards them. They rolled to a stop, Marcel pulling on the hand brake.

‘Sorry for the delay, my friends, we’ll be inside soon enough,’ he said with a wink.

‘What’s going on?’ Jasmine asked, eyeing the guards cautiously.

‘Nothing to worry about. Merely a routine security check.’

Jasmine and Winter shared a dubious look. Sam lent between the two girls and whispered, ‘Have I mentioned that the Bonnaires can be a little paranoid?’

‘With good reason,’ Elena said sternly. Sam shrugged –
see what I mean?

The first guard was conferring with Marcel in French through the open window. A second guard, a stocky man with thick, crude features and a shaved head, slowly circled the car, brandishing his crossbow in an intimidating manner. He nodded respectfully at Elena and then paused outside Winter’s window, staring at her curiously through the glass.

He turned and asked the other guard something. The guard scowled past Marcel so he too could see Winter sitting in the back. Feeling uncomfortable with the attention, she sank lower in her seat, hands twisting in her lap.

Marcel said something further, and the guard reluctantly stepped back from the car, barking an order to the other guard to do the same.

‘You see? That wasn’t too painful, was it?’ Marcel said. ‘Now we eat and drink and get out of this damned car.’

‘Hear, hear,’ Jasmine said, stretching her arms out in front of her. Winter was also tired of being cooped up in a small, confined place. First the sixteen hour car ride down from Hagan’s Bluff, then the flight, followed by another four hours on the road. That was a lot of travel for a girl who wasn’t used to much more than driving ten minutes at a time. An uncomfortable numbness had seeped into her backside which no amount of wriggling about seemed to cure. Her neck also felt stiff and sore.

Despite this, Winter didn’t share Jasmine’s enthusiasm for venturing outside. The car might be restrictive, but it had grown familiar to her, and thus safe. Outside the door was nothing but uncertainty. As they drove through the entrance into the main courtyard, it wasn’t the dangers outside Castle Vled’s walls – the Skivers and Demori – that played upon her fears, but the unknown danger within. Winter was now with the Bane.