Winter's Light (6 page)

Chapter 9

‘Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Sidaris,’ said the one wearing the burgundy leather jacket. He gestured to his friend in the suit and red shirt. ‘My esteemed colleague here is Benedict.’

‘A pleasure,’ Benedict said, nodding towards Winter.

Neither extended their hand, yet she couldn’t stop herself from recoiling backwards as if they had, immediately regretting the move. She knew it was crucial that she not reveal her terror to the men, that to do so would be dangerous, perhaps fatal. She didn’t pause to question this instinct. It was plain to see in their predatory smiles and the ominous way they were staring at her.

‘Nice to meet you both. I was just about to go back to the party actually,’ she said, her voice surprisingly steady. With some difficulty she relaxed the Sight, having trouble enough to maintain the air of normalcy without watching the emerald sparks pulse in their eyes. ‘I wasn’t feeling well, so I thought I’d take some time out.’

Sidaris made a pantomime of a concerned expression. When he spoke his voice had a flat detached quality, as though he were reading off a script, and his eyes continued to bore into Winter’s.

‘Sorry to hear you’re feeling under the weather. Maybe the excitement of the day has gotten to you?’

‘I’m fine honestly,’ Winter said, forcing a smile. ‘Just needed some alone time. Ready to party again now. You guys should come back to the party too. We could go together.’ She had to play for time – ‘play’ being the operative word. This was a game. A deadly game. Her eyes leapt past the two men to the edge of the clearing. Somewhere beyond those trees were her classmates. Music was blaring loudly, somebody had brought along a stereo and cranked up the volume. If she screamed would anybody hear her?

‘Now why would we want to share you with anyone else?’ Sidaris said. ‘We can have our own party right here.’

Winter cleared her throat. ‘Well . . . as I was saying I should be —’

‘Do you see her eyes?’ Sidaris said to Benedict, speaking over her.

‘I do,’ Benedict replied, a trace of wonder in his voice. ‘Unbelievable isn’t it?’

‘A rare treat indeed.’

She knew what they were discussing. That special quality of hers that Blake called the power of the Key. Winter remembered Blake warning her about how irresistible this unique light was to the Demori. Blake himself had struggled not to give in to its temptation. She had no reason to believe these two would be able to resist it.

Winter tried to change the subject. Gambling for time.

‘Why are you here?’

‘We heard you calling us,’ Sidaris said, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

Frowning, Winter shook her head. ‘I didn’t —’

‘In the night,’ Sidaris continued, affecting a falsely sympathetic tone. ‘Your voice calling out over and over again.’ His fingers went to the neckline of his shirt, lifting out the chain that had been hidden there. A dark green crystal swung on the end of the silver. A lodestone. ‘Calling out for your Blake.’

Winter stared at the lodestone so similar to hers but longer, sharper. Blake’s lodestone was still clasped tightly in her hand, and seemed to have grown hotter in the presence of the two Demori. In the space of seconds she understood Sidaris’s implication. All those tormented nights she’d awakened in a cold sweat fumbling for Blake’s gift, using it to try to contact him, her voice had not gone unheard. Her call had been answered, just not by Blake.

‘And where is our wayward brother these days?’ Benedict asked, his right eyebrow arching quizically. ‘He doesn’t call, doesn’t write. Frankly, we’re all a bit worried about him.’

Winter’s gaze jumped nervously back and forth between the two men. ‘He’ll be here soon. Any minute actually.’

Sidaris chuckled at that. ‘Wonderful! I can see why he chose you. You’re plucky. Such a rare quality these days. Most people are so lost in their own apathy they almost give themselves to us willingly.’

Winter shrugged. ‘I’m not lying. Blake’s coming and wouldn’t be happy with the way you’re threatening me,’ she added, sounding as forbidding as she possibly could given the circumstances.

‘Hush now.’ Benedict began to slowly walk around the driftwood. ‘I’d wager the favourite son of Ariman has fallen. Why else would you call out his name every night? Besides, I can see the pain in your eyes. Blake’s not coming.’

Winter didn’t bother protesting anymore, instead she desperately searched for an escape route. She’d played in this reserve many times as a kid and knew how easy it was to get lost.

Or to hide.

A loud cheer suddenly rose up from the beach behind the trees, causing Benedict to pause in his advance. Almost immediately there was a popping sound followed by a droning whine, rising in pitch. Suddenly the night sky exploded with vivid blues and reds. Jules’s friends had finally set off the fireworks. With Sidaris and Benedict’s attention distracted by the commotion, Winter took off in a mad dash for the treeline. By the time she heard Sidaris’s frustrated cry of ‘Benedict!’ she was already out of sight.

Chapter 10

Her lungs burning with exertion, Winter paused a moment to catch her breath. Adrenaline had lent her unexpected speed and she’d made significant progress, weaving through the trees, not holding to any particular direction but zigzagging haphazardly, hoping her trail would prove difficult to follow.

Apart from the blood rushing in her ears, she couldn’t hear anything except the distant sound of music from the party, and below that the whispering ocean. Some laughter floated down to her on the night breeze, highlighting the nightmarish surrealism of the situation. Not far away her friends were celebrating the last day of school, and here she was potentially facing the last night of her life.

Right. She needed to figure out exactly where she was. To get a higher perspective of the area, Winter chose the sturdiest looking tree and began to climb. It was hard work but soon she’d climbed high enough to make out the faint glow of the party’s bonfire in the middle distance. She was much closer than she’d thought. A brisk run would carry her there within minutes. There was no sign of the Demori moving through the shadows below, but Winter was still reluctant to move. She felt safe up here. Hidden.

Suddenly, there was a soft creaking sound as the branch beneath her feet bowed slightly.

‘Gorgeous night, isn’t it?’ Sidaris whispered into her ear.

Crying out in fright, Winter lost her grip and pitched forward, crashing through some of the thinner branches on her way to the ground. Bruised but otherwise unharmed, she awkwardly tried to scramble away as Sidaris nimbly jumped down after her.

‘My, my, my, you are a delight! I can’t remember when I last had so much fun.’

Winter flipped over onto her back as she heard his footsteps. Terror had called forth the Sight and as he lent closer, she noticed something different about his appearance. His Occuluma had lost its intensity, the twin emerald flames dwindling to dull embers. Thanks to Blake, Winter knew what this change signified – the fainter the Occuluma, the closer one was to death. The Demori didn’t have long to live. Neither, it seemed, did she.

‘It wouldn’t be proper for me to continue without Benedict,’ Sidaris said, adopting an intimate tone. ‘But now I have you all to myself I’m suddenly feeling less generous.’

Winter gulped, trying to avoid looking at Sidaris’s eyes. ‘I think y-you should wait for him,’ she stammered. ‘There’s plenty of me to go round. I couldn’t live with myself knowing I came between two close friends.’

Sidaris grinned, shaking his head in amazement. ‘Still brave up until the end.’ His gaze suddenly widened dangerously as he bent down closer to her. Winter found herself unable to look away. His eyes beckoned to her, draining her will to fight. ‘Such bravery deserves a reward and so I promise to make this quick and painless for you.’

Do something, idiot! He’s going to kill you!
The voice inside her head screamed as Sidaris’s face filled her view. ‘Close your eyes,’ he said, his voice thick with lust.

Unable to refuse his order, she obeyed. His breath filled her senses, sweet as perfume, the scent of the Dead Lands. In seconds his lips would press against hers, sealing her fate. The Demori kiss was lethal. Sidaris would drain her life force, leaving her body an empty husk.

‘Blake,’ Winter heard herself say softly, a final prayer and apology to her love.

A whistling sound suddenly pierced the air, followed by a howl of pain as Sidaris rolled away from her.

Shocked, Winter opened her eyes and saw the Demori writhing on the ground clutching at an iron bolt jutting from his arm. She’d seen such a weapon before. In Pilgrim’s Lament, Sam and his brothers had wielded crossbows that fired these bolts, iron apparently one of the only metals that could hurt a Demori. She turned and saw her saviour pointing his crossbow at Sidaris.

‘Sam?!’

She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. When she’d left Sam outside the church on the mountain, Winter had been sure that was the last time she’d ever see him. It was three months since that night, and the young man before her was greatly changed. His blond hair had grown out from the short military cut he’d sported previously, his cheeks and chin were dusted with brown stubble making him look much older than the fresh-faced boy she remembered, and instead of a form-fitting black army uniform, Sam was now dressed in a rumpled, grey trenchcoat, criss-crossed with leather straps.

‘Get out of here, Winter!’ he said, staring intently over his bow at Sidaris.

Winter scrambled to her feet, moving out of the weapon’s path so Sam could have a clear shot. Sidaris groaned again as he grabbed hold of the bolt and ripped it free from his arm. The wound sizzled and the air smelt nauseatingly like burnt meat.

‘Run!’ Sam said again when Winter hesitated on the periphery. He raised the sights of the crossbow to eye level. ‘I’ve got this.’

Sidaris pulled himself into a crouch and sneered, ‘You’ve got nothing.’

Before Sam could fire again, Sidaris sprang forward, vanishing mid-air in a crackle of green sparks. Almost instantly he materialised behind Sam, swatting the crossbow out of his hands and knocking him to the ground.

‘I don’t take kindly to being interrupted when I’m with a lady,’ he said, his eyes shining dangerously. ‘Where’s your sense of decency?’ In a flash he was on top of Sam, clawing at his throat. Too shocked to move, Winter watched the two figures grappling. It was clear that despite Sam’s considerable size, the Demori had the upper hand. Sam was going to lose this fight.

Lying in the dirt a few feet away was Sam’s fallen crossbow. Winter ran and picked it up, aiming the heavy weapon with trembling hands at Sidaris’s back. She’d never fired so much as a water pistol in her life and only hoped whatever machinations were necessary to prep the crossbow before firing had already been set by Sam. Her finger hovered over the trigger.

‘Now you know what happens to naughty boys who stick their nose in where it doesn’t belong,’ Sidaris said, grinning wickedly as he tightened his grip around Sam’s throat. Sam’s eyes bulged out of their sockets. His face started to turn purple.

Winter took a few quick steps forward until she was sure she wouldn’t miss, aimed the crossbow and with a silent prayer pressed the trigger. There wasn’t as much recoil as she thought there would be, just a mild kick as the spring-loaded mechanism holding the bolt snapped forward, hurling it towards Sidaris.

Screaming in surprise and pain, Sidaris pitched forward as the bolt buried itself between his shoulder blades, then flailed backwards, clawing at the bolt but unable to grasp it. Sam kicked him off and rose quickly to his feet. He reached behind him and withdrew a small machete from his trenchcoat. The weapon must have been holstered to his back.

He stepped over Sidaris who was still feebly trying to yank out the bolt. Blueish smoke was wisping out of the wound. The acrid smell of burning reached Winter, making her stomach heave. Sam, his face flushed, raised the machete over his head.

‘Look away, Winter.’

She did so, tilting her head and closing her eyes. It was a futile gesture. The wet sounding
WHACK
as he brought the machete down was loud enough that her imagination easily filled in the missing visual.

‘Don’t open your eyes!’ Sam said, grunting as he began to drag Sidaris’s body over the dirt. ‘Wait until —’

‘NO!’

The agonised cry rang out through the night, shocking Winter’s eyes wide open. She whirled around and saw Benedict, his face twisted in horror as he watched them from the edge of the clearing. His gaze flicked from the headless body of Sidaris lying at Sam’s feet to Winter holding the crossbow. Slowly Benedict’s features shifted from heart-rending shock and misery to something darker and more frightening.

‘You!’ he hissed, his furious gaze pinning her to the spot. Sam might have been standing over Sidaris’s corpse but it was Winter who seemed to be the main target of the Demori’s rage. She watched him tense, preparing to fly at them, and then remembered the weapon. Raising it with trembling hands, she hoped Benedict wouldn’t notice the crossbow was unloaded. The bluff seemed to work because a flicker of hesitancy passed across his face.

Sam rushed to her side, brandishing the machete at the Demori.

‘If he Travels, move behind me,’ he said through gritted teeth.

Snarling in frustration, Benedict glared at Sam and Winter for a second longer, the look in his eyes carrying a chilling promise that their business was not yet finished. There was a low humming sound, followed by a single thunderous clap and the Demori winked out of existence, the shape of his form briefly haloed in sputtering emerald fire before fading from view. The immediate danger gone, Sam remained tense at her side.

‘It might be a trick,’ he said, turning around in a slow circle.

Winter’s gaze anxiously searched the darkness. She’d lost the Sight during the battle and was too shaky to muster the concentration necessary to activate it now. Seconds passed and Benedict didn’t materialise. Her chest ached painfully and Winter realised she was holding her breath. She let the air rush out of her, and with it any semblance of courage she’d faked. Any moment now she might crumble to the ground. Sam reached over and gently took the crossbow from her trembling grasp.

‘I think he’s gone.’

‘You’re sure?’ Winter asked, her eyes wide with fear.

‘Yes. Anyway, he won’t have enough energy to attack us again so soon. Travelling exhausts them. Are you okay?’ he asked, regarding her worriedly. ‘Did they hurt you?’

She gulped in a breath, trying her best to shake off the numb shock that clung to her like a wet, icy sheet. ‘No. I’m okay.’

Sam nodded, slipping the machete back into the sheath strapped to his back. ‘Good. I need your help then.’

‘With what?’ She sucked in another breath, slowly beginning to feel more in control. Sam’s gaze met hers again, and she didn’t like the grim resolve she saw there. Not one bit.

‘We need to bury the body.’