How I Found You (23 page)

I buried my face into the groove of Oscar’s neck.

“I saw it all,” I whispered.

He stroked my hair, soothing me. “What did you see?” he murmured tentatively.

“I saw us. I saw how it all began. Lathiaus…”

His arms tightened around me as I trembled.

“He was human,” I whispered. “He was a human who killed in cold blood, like a demon. He led a witch hunt. They were coming after you…”

Oscar nodded his head. “If his human soul was so corrupt, then it seems only fit for him to have evolved into a creature that reflects that.” I felt his breath brush against my face as he let out a sigh. “I thought…” he struggled to speak, his words quiet and sombre.

“What?” I urged.

“I thought you were gone,” he managed. “I thought the spell’s power was too strong for you to survive.”

“I went back to the beginning,” I explained quietly. “I watched it as an outsider, but I knew that the girl I was watching was
me
. Emily. And I knew that Oliver was you. It wasn’t our bodies, but it was our souls. The first life we shared together.”

Oscar laughed gently. “What were we like?”

“The same.”

He laughed again.

“There’s something else,” I went on. “When I read the prophecy back at the manor, it called me the girl with the heart of a witch.”

“Yes.”

“Well, you always said that was because my heart was a witch’s heart.”

“Yes.” He seemed curious as to where I was heading with this.

“But, I have another theory.” I tested his reaction before I continued. “What if I’m the girl with the heart of a witch because I have
your
heart? Now, then and forever…”

A minute or two passed before Oscar replied.

“Oh,” he said, stunned. “It pains me to acknowledge my mistakes, but there could be some truth in that. Hmm...
Your
heart is not a witch’s heart, but you
have
the heart
of a witch.
My
heart.” He paused, allowing the premise to sink in. “Now, then and forever.”

We fell silent for a moment, almost as though we were paying respect to the depth of the eternity that we shared.

“I think I know what I have to do,” I said at last.

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“I have to face Lathiaus.”

“What!” Oscar spluttered. “Are you out of your mind? You must be suffering some sort of delirious after effects.” He touched my brow with the back of his hand.

I sat upright. “The spell did what I hoped it would. It helped me to understand all of this. You, me, Lathiaus… I’m part of this. I
am
this.”

Oscar groaned under his breath. “I
knew
I shouldn’t have carried out that spell. I should have trusted my instincts,” he ranted fervently. “I knew no good would come of it—”

“But good
did
come of it,” I insisted. “I found out why it has to be me. I was Lathiaus’s first kill, and I have to be his last.”

“You will
not
be his last kill!” Oscar shouted, his temper mounting. “You will not be his last
anything
! I will not allow him to even
look
at you.”

I placed my hand on his forearm. I could feel the muscles tense beneath his skin as his fists clenched in anger.

“This is my destiny,” I said, for the first time feeling quite accepting of it. Proud, even. “It’s my prophecy.”

“And what about
my
prophecy?” he retorted. “It’s my responsibility to protect you.”

“You’ll die!” I exclaimed. “Along with the line of witches. And then Lathiaus will have won—
again
.”

“He won’t have won, because he won’t have got you.” Oscar’s tone was pleading now.

I flinched. I hated putting him through this, but I couldn’t give in. I couldn’t let a demon prevail. Not after what I’d seen—and what I’d
lived
hundreds of years ago.

The insight into my previous life had changed me. It was the missing piece of the jigsaw. For one thing, it explained my
not
-so-irrational fear of fire. But more importantly, I’d died for Oscar, and he was offering me the same sacrifice in this lifetime. I adored him for it, but I didn’t accept it. I wanted to fight.

I felt around in the darkness for Oscar’s face and then held it in my hands, just as Emily had held Oliver.

“I have to do this,” I told him.

His eyelids dropped. “Then don’t expect me to watch. If you insist on this
suicide
mission,” he spat, “then you’ll go alone.”

“Okay,” I accepted valiantly. I savoured the touch of his skin for one last time, and then I crawled across the tree house and lowered myself through the hatch.

“Yeah, that’s right!” Oscar yelled after me. “Just go!” I heard him kick his feet.

“Bye, Oscar,” I whispered back as I descended the rope ladder. It was still raining heavily, but I was already soaked through so I didn’t care anymore.

When I reached the bottom, Oscar peered out of the hatch. “If you think I’m going to follow you, you can think again!”

I looked up at him. “Okay.”

He scowled.

“Bye,” I said, giving him a heroic little salute.

He pursed his lips tetchily. “What is this? Some kind of reverse psychology? Because it’s not going to work!”

“Nope.” I waved at him. “Bye.”

“Oh, so this is how it’s going to be, is it?” Oscar drawled. When I didn’t answer, he tried again. “Rose?” He paused. “You’re not really going, are you?”

I smiled obscurely. “Yes, Oscar, I’m going.”

He muttered a few profanities. “Wait for me, then.”

The next thing I knew, he’d jumped to the ground and landed beside me. The wind swept through our hair and the branches of the trees swayed overhead.

Oscar took hold of my hand. “So, you want to fight a demon?” he said as he gave me a look of reluctant cooperation.

“Yes, please.”

“You’ll die,” he told me matter-of-factly.

“Or you will.”

He returned my salute. “Our destiny awaits.”

“Well, we’d better hurry up then. We wouldn’t want to keep destiny waiting.”

And on we walked, hand in hand, heading back towards the manor. We took our time, because I, for one, was sick of running.

Invictus

OUT OF THE NIGHT THAT
covers me,

Black as the Pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under bludgeoning of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond the place of wrath and tears

Looms but the horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate:

I am the captain of my soul.

—William Ernest Henley

I led the way through the forest, walking with a confident stride. Each foot seemed to hit the ground with strong, controlled determination.

I guess there’s a certain strength that comes with clarity. For the first time in a long while, I knew exactly what I was doing—and more importantly, why I was doing it.

Oscar didn’t speak, but he marched loyally at my side. We were like soldiers, front line until the end.

We stepped through the trees, emerging out onto the road. Probably around the same spot where Oscar had found me. We weren’t far from the house now.

Oscar stopped in his tracks.

“No!” he wailed.

The sound made me jump.

“What is it?” I asked frantically.

“No!” he howled again. “That sadistic
animal
!” He broke into a run—heading in the opposite direction from the manor.

“Who’s a sadistic animal?” I called, hurrying after him.

“Marco!” Oscar shouted back.

I saw him drop to his knees and hunch over something that lay on the road.

It was too dark for me to make out what it was. My legs felt like jelly at the thought that it might be Caicus.

I sprinted the last few metres and, with bated breath, peered over Oscar’s shoulder. The object of his despair lay on the ground.

It wasn’t Caicus.

In fact, I didn’t know what it was.

“How could he do this?” Oscar murmured. “Have you ever seen anything so horrible?”

“No,” I agreed sympathetically. “What is it?”

Oscar collapsed onto the ground and slung his arm over a deformed lump of metal. “The engine,” he grieved, wretchedly.

It dawned on me that the dented object was Oscar’s car. Or part of it, anyhow. I glanced along the road and noticed the rest of the vehicle scattered in chunks every few metres for as far as the eye could see.

I sat beside Oscar. He was taking this badly. 

“It was just a car,” I tried to console him.

He sat upright and glared at me. “
It
was not just a car.
She
was a Lamborghini Gallardo, and she was beautiful.”

I tried a more sensitive approach. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” he sighed, mournfully. 

I looked back to the other parts: slashed metal, crushed hubcaps, bits of seats…

I grimaced. “You think Marco did this?”

“Yes.” Oscar’s eyes narrowed. “It’s got Marco written all over it.”

“But how could he have…” I trailed off. I didn’t need Oscar to answer that question. Marco had torn the car apart with his bare hands.

I shuddered.

All of a sudden Oscar sprang to his feet, hauling me up along with him.

“They’re near,” he hissed.

“Marco and Caicus?”

“Yes. I can sense them.”

I looked around. We were alone. 

“Are they at the manor?” I asked.

“No,” he murmured, gazing into the dark maze of evergreens. “The forest. They’re in the forest. Moving quickly, though.”

He frowned as though he were listening to something. I tried to listen too, but all I could hear was the moan of wind and the lashing rain.

Oscar’s hands balled into fists. “They’re coming for us,” he stated.

My breath caught in my throat. “What should we do? Run?”

“You won’t outrun them,” he told me.

Of course, he was right.

“Go to the tree house,” Oscar said abruptly. He gave me a little nudge in the direction of the forest.

“Without you?” My eyes widened. “And with Marco in there?” I gestured loosely to the trees.

“You’ll be fine. They can’t track you—it’s not their power—but they’ll pick up my scent and I’ll draw them out to the road.”

“What about Lathiaus? I have to find him—”

“Forget Lathiaus!” Oscar shouted at me. The severity of his tone made me shrink back. “Forget Lathiaus. Go to the tree house and just… be safe.” His eyes blazed with urgency.

“But—”

“No,” he yelled again. “Please, do as I say. I don’t have time to argue about it. Go to the tree house and stay there until midnight. Please.” His hands clasped together. 

Hot tears stung my eyes.

Oscar’s expression softened. “Don’t cry, Rose.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“I don’t want to leave you, either,” he whispered.

I took his hands. “Then don’t. We’ll stay together.”

Oscar stiffened. “They’re onto my scent,” he said. “I have to move. Please, go to the tree house and stay there.” He kissed me with a heartbreaking passion. “Take care.”

And he was gone, leaving only a tingle on my fingers from where his touch had once been.

I SPRINTED DOWN THE ROAD
as fast as my legs would carry me. I probably should have gone back to the tree house, but I didn’t. I couldn’t hide away while there was still a chance. Granted, I wasn’t exactly sure what I planned to do. I kind of assumed something would just come to me. I was banking on that, anyway.

My feet crunched down on gravel. I was almost at the house now.

Oh my God.

My aunt’s minivan had been overturned. Oil seeped from the exhaust pipe like a river of black blood.

More of Marco’s handy work.

I decided not to linger, and instead made a final dash for the manor.

Once inside, I took a moment to catch my breath. I leaned against the door, looking straight ahead into the chasm of the unlit hallway. As far as I could tell, there was no one else there. No Marco, no Caicus. No Lathiaus.

Now what?

I flipped the light switch, just in case. Zilch.

Blindly, I edged forward, feeling my way through the house, still waiting for that fantastic plan to miraculously pop into my head. Several steps into my totter, my hand brushed against something. It was bigger than me and dressed in coarse, woollen material. I flailed my arms around in distress and the thing wobbled and crashed to the floor, landing in my path.

“Demon!” I screamed, then covered my mouth reflexively.

Breathe. It was just the coat rack
.

What? It was an easy mistake to make.

Okay, phase one of The Plan
, I strategised with myself:
toughen up.

I kept going, heading for the dining room.

Phase two of The Plan: find the torch.

When I reached the dining room, I crashed straight into the upturned table, right on the shin
.

Ouch. Good start
.

I crawled through the table legs, feeling less cat woman and more elephant woman. Somehow I managed to clobber every limb during my sightless table-assault obstacle course. When I finally made it to the other side, things didn’t get much easier. Marco had turned the room into complete disarray: toppled cabinets, snapped chairs, smashed windows… He’d pulverised the place.

I stayed low—less chance of tripping if I was already on the floor. Unfortunately, that meant substituting tripping for another of my favourite pastimes—cutting my hands on broken glass. Which I did. A lot.

I felt around for the torch, but it was like searching for a needle in a haystack. A very sharp-toothed haystack.

Come on, torch, where are you?

“Ouch!” I yelped. Chair leg to the eye.

I’d been told that everybody has a breaking point, and apparently that was mine. I drew the line at chair leg to the eye. Abort phase two of The Plan.

Phase three of The Plan: get a new plan
. Which was not impossible. There was one other way of obtaining light. And I decided I was up to the challenge.

I backtracked to the hallway, sustaining a few more see-you-in-court-Marco injuries on my way. I now had a clear run to the staircase and, hopefully, to my bedroom. As it turned out, this was easy. That saying ‘I could do it with my eyes closed’ was actually true in this case. I burst through the attic door and was instantly in sanctuary. My room.

I rushed to the dressing table and picked up my toffee candle. The silken wax cylinder soothed my sore, nicked hands. I rummaged through the top drawer until I found the box of matches. I was going to light a candle. Me!

I wondered if my bravery came from a needs-must mentality, or if my vision of the past had actually turned out to be therapeutic. I mean, it was safe to say that my fear of fire originated from my death by fire, so perhaps revisiting that moment had given me some sort of closure.

Whatever the reason for my courage, I was eternally grateful for it.

I struck a matchstick on the box and a tiny flame darted out. Of course I flinched, but the mettle of my action also made me feel kind of fearless. Like if I could overcome a lifelong phobia, then I could overcome anything.

I lit the candle wick and listened as the dust sizzled.

“You’re living out your destiny, too,” I said to the candle. I suddenly felt a deep affinity for that inanimate tube of wax. And as it burnt, I could smell the sweet aroma of toffee. The smell of victory.

I took a moment to recap.

Bravery? Check. Light? Check. Plan?

Hmm.

The prophecy seemed like a good place to start. My candle companion and I set off for Oscar and Caicus’s bedroom. I snuck in and seated myself cross-legged in the gap between the two beds. I took a pillow from Oscar’s bed and cuddled it to my chest, breathing in the scent on the material. It was the closest thing I had to Oscar.

I placed the candle on the floor and heaved the trunk out from under the bed.

Oh, what the…?

The stupid trunk was locked.

I fiddled around with the combination, not really applying any logic to my guesses. Who had time for logic?

Unfortunately, randomness wasn’t getting me anywhere. I felt like the loser contestant on some low-budget cryptic maze game show. I glanced around the room.

Hello, heavy object.

I grabbed a hefty, old-fashioned lamp from the bedside table and brought it down as hard as I could on the lock. My first attempt had no effect, but I learned that if you kept bashing a lock with a lamp, then it would eventually bust open. Good old brute force! 

I lifted the trunk’s lid and scooped the book out. The piece of string still marked the prophecy page, so I flipped straight to it.

Laying the open book on the floor, I hovered the candle above it.

THE PROPHECY OF LATHIAUS

It is foretold, on the day of his end,

so doth life begin

At the stroke of the eleventh hour,

he shall awaken

All will bow before him

All will perish at his mercy

Only one can end the blood spill  

She, the girl with the heart of a witch