Winter's Shadow (37 page)

Winter fell backwards onto the metal floor, dropping Nefertem as she tried in vain to keep her balance. The cat landed nimbly, skittering away to a safe spot behind the rear right wheel. From there he watched Winter, his yellow eyes glowing faintly in the low light.

Winter slowly picked herself up, wincing at the fresh pain of her bruises. She was jostled to and fro as the van left the bumpy terrain of Blake’s driveway and turned onto Holloway Road. Once the journey had smoothed out, Winter pushed herself against the left-hand side of the back compartment, pulling her knees up to her chest. What was going to happen to her? How long could she survive without Blake to protect her?

She conjured an image of Blake’s face and held it in her mind like a talisman. She hoped that, wherever he was, Blake would come for her soon. Winter knew the danger grew every second they were apart.

Winter couldn’t be sure how long she was in the van before it eventually came to a stop, but guessed they had crossed from one side of town to the other. During the trip, the others were mostly quiet, except for a few mentions of ‘the old man’ and ‘the creature’ – a reference to Blake, she assumed.

Once the van’s engine was switched off her kidnappers exited the van, leaving Winter and Nefertem to wait in the back. She could hear their footsteps crunching on the gravel outside as they walked around to open the rear doors, and steeled herself for action. Winter had spent the journey psyching herself up to this point, figuring it was probably her one chance to escape. She rolled herself into a crouching position, ready to leap out as soon as the doors opened. They were probably
expecting her to be frightened and malleable, something she planned on using to her advantage.

The doors were thrown open and Winter launched herself out – straight into the waiting arms of Marcus.

‘Woah! You didn’t tell me she was such a fighter, Sammy,’ Marcus said, laughing as he gripped Winter’s wrists to stop her beating him.

Sam watched Winter struggle in Marcus’s embrace with a bored expression on his face. ‘Stop fooling around and bring her inside. Somebody might see her.’

‘Let go of me!’ Winter managed to yell before Marcus covered her mouth with his hand and dragged her towards the house. Even in her panicked state she was surprised to see Sam’s house was a modest one-storey bungalow, indistinguishable from the homes on either side. Owl Mountain rose up against the night sky in the distance, and by its location she was able to guess where they were in town. Somewhere near Handley Drive, not far away from school. After imagining that they would take her to some isolated shack somewhere beyond the outskirts, she felt a little comforted by the familiar surroundings. At least if she managed to escape there would be help close at hand from one of the neighbours.
If
she managed to escape . . .

Winter tried to wriggle around in Marcus’s grasp to see if Nefertem had been lifted out of the van too. There was no sign of the cat. She prayed silently that he was somewhere nearby, otherwise she’d have much more to fear than these thugs.

Marcus carried her over the threshold into the house, with Damien and Sam following close behind. Once they were all inside, Sam locked the front door.

‘Take her out back. He’s waiting for her.’

Winter didn’t like the sound of that. Just
who
was waiting for her out back? She continued to kick and struggle against Marcus, but his grip was too strong.

As she was dragged through the central hallway, Winter caught glimpses of the rooms; the first contained three inflatable mattresses lined up next to each other, while another was packed with gym equipment – weights, dumbbells, a flat bench. Another room displayed much more intriguing contents: Winter saw some kind of workbench with a collection of crystals and weirdly shaped pieces of metal spread across it. There was an open laptop computer running some kind of graphic simulation that made no sense to her.

The remaining rooms were virtually barren save for the odd cardboard box or packing crate. The entire house had a cold, impersonal feel to it – there were no family pictures, scattered magazines or books, not even a television. It was more like a makeshift military barracks than anything else.

Marcus carried Winter through a doorway and finally released her. Glaring at him angrily, she turned around, her breath catching when she saw the old man sitting at the table watching her. He had long, straggly white hair, swept back from a gaunt face that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a Halloween mask. There was something
alarmingly cadaverous about him, as if he were slowly being eaten away from the inside by flesh-eating bugs. His skin was stretched so thinly across his bones that Winter was surprised the skull didn’t burst through when he smiled.

‘And what do we have here?’ he asked in deceptively friendly tones as Marcus nudged Winter towards him. A slight European accent sharpened his vowels.

‘Her name’s Winter. She’s the one I told you about before,’ Sam answered.

The old man looked sympathetically at Winter. ‘I imagine you must be quite alarmed, young lady. Please allow me to introduce myself.’

Winter glared at him. ‘I know who you are.’

One of the man’s grey eyebrows twitched in curiosity. ‘Is that so?’

‘You’re the Bane.’

Marcus sniggered behind her, while the old man sighed somewhat sadly. ‘We haven’t called ourselves that name for many years,’ he replied. Winter ignored the amused look in the creepy old man’s eyes and quickly scanned the room for anything that might aid her escape. Clearly she couldn’t run back the way she’d come – not with Marcus and Sam blocking the route. However, the sash window at the back of the room was wide enough for her to climb through. She just needed to get past the old man to do it.

‘My name is Caleb Bennet,’ he continued, his overly friendly manner making Winter even more suspicious
of him. ‘The boys standing behind you are my sons. Damien’s the youngest, Marcus is the one with the questionable hair colour, and I believe you know Sam.’

Brothers! No wonder Winter had seen some physical similarities between the three. Caleb gestured to the chair closest to Winter. ‘Now that we’ve been introduced properly, will you sit down?’

Winter hesitated, needing some reassurance. ‘My cat . . .’

Caleb frowned and looked to Sam. ‘Cat?’

Sam started to clarify Winter’s question when Damien entered the room, holding Nefertem to his chest.

Winter reached for the frightened tabby. ‘Please give him to me.’

Damien looked to Caleb for permission. He seemed to be deliberating over whether or not to give her Nefertem when Sam spoke. ‘It’s her cat. We killed the others.’

Caleb shrugged and Damien handed the tabby over to Winter. Stroking him, Winter reluctantly sat down opposite Caleb. He smiled at her again, the expression out of place on his hard, cruel face.

‘Growing up in Prague, I had a dog when I was a child – a wolfhound named Lucius. Cats, though, have always bothered me. They see too much. When Satan walked the earth it is said he came in the form of a cat. Did you know that?’

Winter shook her head.

Caleb appeared disappointed she didn’t know this fact. ‘What’s your cat’s name?’

‘Nefertem.’

‘Named for the Egyptian god of luck. I hope he’s brought you some?’

‘Not so far,’ Winter replied honestly and the old man laughed.

‘Now, may I offer you a drink? Tea? Coffee?’

She had no time for this polite charade. These people had kidnapped her!

‘What do you want with me?’

Caleb seemed surprised at the question. ‘To protect you, of course.’

‘Protect me from what?’

‘You’re in great danger, Winter,’ he replied, staring at her gravely.

Winter returned his stare. ‘No arguments here. But I would be in less danger if you hadn’t kidnapped me.’

‘You think you’re safe with the creature?’

Winter’s back stiffened at the reference to Blake. She did nothing to hide the displeasure in her voice when answering, ‘I
know
I’m safe with Blake. He’s never run me over a cliff!’

Caleb hung his head as though shamed by Winter’s accusation. ‘I must apologise for that particular action. We were merely trying to bait the creature into using some of its power, thus revealing itself.’

‘You’re insane!’ Winter replied, shocked that they could shrug off her near-death so easily.

‘Shut up, Winter! You have no idea —’ Sam began angrily, but was silenced by Caleb’s raised finger.

‘What did he tell you about us?’ Caleb asked her with a wry smile, as though indulging a small child’s fantasy.

‘He told me how you’ve hunted him across the years like he was some kind of monster.’

Caleb’s eyes widened slightly and leaned forward in his chair. ‘
Like
he was a monster? My dear girl, what do you suppose it – Blake – is?’

Winter answered him easily. ‘The man who saved my life.’

‘Man?’ Caleb scoffed. ‘My dear, we both know your Blake is no
man
. He’s a Demori. Just like his father. A creature that drains the life force of poor ignorant girls like yourself.’

‘Blake would never hurt me,’ Winter said defiantly.

‘Of course he would.’ Caleb’s tone softened as he regarded Winter sympathetically. ‘I’m sure Blake doesn’t want to hurt you, but sooner or later he won’t be able to resist. It’s his nature to kill what he loves.’

Caleb paused, watching the effect of his words on Winter. After a moment of this silent study he continued speaking, his voice taking on a scholarly tone.

‘More than a century ago, my ancestor Victor Bonnaire was married to a beautiful young woman named Madeleine. He was a playwright and she an actress in his repertory. One night Madeleine was taken from Victor by a creature – a Demori, who called himself Ariman. Evil incarnate.’

Winter stopped him. ‘I’ve heard this story before.’

Caleb regarded her with interest. ‘He told you our history?’

Winter nodded. ‘Victor was a madman. Madeleine wasn’t taken – she left willingly.’

Caleb’s eyes narrowed and his voice dropped to a dangerous level.

‘Victor Bonnaire was a great man. He was chosen by God Himself to rid the world of this evil. We are proud to belong to his line.’ He glanced over at his three sons. Damien and Marcus nodded in agreement. It might have only been Winter’s wishful thinking – the memory of his story affecting her judgement – but Sam seemed to lack the conviction of his brothers. That disturbing look of fanaticism she could see in their eyes was missing from his.