Winter's Shadow (43 page)

‘Blake?’

He glanced up at her, evidently surprised to find he was no longer alone. There was a strange, faraway look in his eyes, as though his mind was somewhere else.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you,’ he said in a dazed tone.

‘Are you okay?’

He looked back at the grave, his voice melancholy. ‘I never told you why I was here that first day, did I, Winter?’

Winter shook her head. ‘No, you didn’t. Look, Blake, the Bane could be on their way. We have to —’

‘It’s my mother’s grave,’ Blake said softly, and Winter was too shocked by the revelation to finish voicing her concerns. ‘Nearly a hundred years ago, we came to this country from Europe, Claudette, my mother and I. We left my father behind. He wanted to save us from the Bane, but he failed. They followed us here. After years of hunting, the Bane finally managed to trap us in a farmhouse near Kendle. My mother urged Claudette and me to Travel, to save ourselves, but I wouldn’t leave her. I hadn’t used my power since that first time. When Elisabetta was . . .’ He swallowed before continuing. ‘I didn’t want to ever experience that awful hunger again. I preferred to take my chances with the Bane. When I refused to Travel, Claudette was forced to transport the three of us through the Dead Lands. She picked an exit point by chance, somewhere far away from the Bane. She brought us here to Hagan’s Bluff.’

He fell silent for a moment. Winter’s anxiety was forgotten as she watched the pain of the memory etch itself across his features. ‘The physical toll it took on my sister was great. It was hard enough Travelling alone, let alone dragging two other people with you through the Dead Lands. The hunger came upon her immediately and before she knew what she was doing she fell upon my mother and started . . . feeding. I tried to stop her, but I was too slow. And too weak. Claudette killed our mother. After the hunger left her and she realised what she’d done, my sister was never the same. Her horror at what she’d done disfigured her. Her hair turned grey, her beauty became corrupted. She went mad, became dangerous and I was forced to . . .’

Winter didn’t need him to finish the sentence, and rested a hand in comfort on his shoulder. She guessed that Blake had been forced to kill Claudette. No wonder he kept a photograph of her next to his bed. It was in memoriam.

‘I’m so sorry, Blake.’

She wished she had the time to console him further, but the threat of the Bane, not to mention the fate of Jasmine, loomed large in her mind.

‘We should go inside. The Bane are coming. They’ve got Jasmine.’

Blake met her gaze, composing himself. ‘How did they find you?’

Winter shook her head. ‘I don’t know. They must have been following us.’

He processed this information grimly. ‘Don’t worry about your friend. They won’t hurt her.’

‘How can you be sure?’ Winter asked, far from convinced.

‘Because it’s me they want,’ Blake said quietly, and started towards the church.

Winter watched Blake’s shadowy form cut through the moonbeams in front of her as he led her down the church’s aisle towards the altar. His hand felt cold in hers, stiff like the hand of a corpse. Before, his touch had always been so warm and comforting.

‘What do we do now?’

Blake didn’t answer. His face was so obscured by shadows she couldn’t read his expression.

‘Blake, talk to me, please.’

‘We’re waiting, Winter,’ he told her softly.

She began to grow afraid. Why was Blake acting so mysteriously? Again the photograph of Carol Oates materialised unbidden in her mind. She tried to banish it, but the image lingered.

‘Waiting for what?’

Blake looked up at her. His green eyes glittered like emerald stars. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said in a defeated tone.

‘I don’t understand. Why are you apologising?’

‘Because I don’t think I can save you.’

‘You said the Skivers —’

Blake shook his head. ‘It’s not them you need to worry about.’

There was something in his eyes that made her blood run cold – grim resignation, as though he were steeling himself to perform some unpleasant act.

‘What happened to Carol Oates?’ The question was out of her mouth before she could stop it. Standing alone with him in the shadows, it suddenly seemed terribly important that she know he was innocent of the crime. That her fear was unfounded.

Troublingly, he frowned and replied, ‘How do you know about her?’

‘Caleb told me. He showed me the list.’ Winter tried to swallow, but her throat was constricted with anxiety. ‘Is it true?’

She was suddenly aware of how quiet it had grown. All the ambient noises of the woods, the ones she’d only barely noticed until they’d gone, had stopped. The chirping of crickets, the soft murmur of the trees as the wind threaded through them – all had fallen silent.

Eventually he looked at her again, his voice full of regret. ‘It’s true. They’re all dead.’

Winter stared at him in shock, trying to see the flicker in his expression, a glimpse of the falsehood that might
prove he was lying. That he wasn’t the monster she feared him to be. There was none to be seen. He was telling her the truth.

‘How?’ she managed hoarsely, tears pricking the backs of her eyes.

‘I didn’t choose them, Winter. They chose me. They would find where I was staying, expose themselves to the danger.’

She jerked her hand out of his and began backing away. Jasmine, the Bane, the Skivers – all paled before Blake’s shocking revelation.

‘I tried to keep them safe! You must believe me!’

Retreating from him, Winter suddenly tripped and fell over one of the fallen beams. Blake offered her his hand, but she scrambled away, terrified that he was about to fall upon her at any moment. She didn’t want to suffer the fate of Carol Oates and the others. She didn’t want to be another name in Caleb’s computer.

‘Don’t, Blake – please! I love you!’ It was true. Even now, afraid for her life, there was a part of her that still loved him. Fear couldn’t extinguish that emotion.

Blake took a step back, evidently shocked by her declaration. Their eyes met and all at once she realised she’d made a mistake. There was no murderous intent here, no hint of the monster Caleb claimed Blake was. Instead, Winter saw only sadness in Blake’s gaze and something else too, something she hadn’t dared hope to see . . .

Love.

‘I’m not going to hurt you,’ Blake croaked, his expression wounded. ‘I’d never —’

His voice was drowned out by a strange whistling sound. Winter watched in horror as he was violently thrown back several feet across the church by some invisible force, landing in a crumpled heap against the altar platform. A long, gleaming piece of metal jutted from his shoulder, fixing him to the wooden base of the altar. Faint tendrils of smoke curled up from the dampening hole where the metal bolt entered his flesh.

Blake groaned in pain, clawing weakly at the bolt.

A familiar voice cried out behind her. ‘Watch out! He’s trying to move.’

There was another whistling sound. A second bolt threw Blake’s other shoulder backwards, pinning him like an insect. He let out an anguished scream.

It had all happened too fast for Winter to fully comprehend. Seconds before, Blake had been speaking to her; now he was lying squirming in agony. It was as though she’d jumped forward in time, missing the crucial series of actions that would make sense of this scene.

Winter turned to see the Bane marching through the church towards her, Caleb in the centre. Beams of light cut through the darkness, projected by torches mounted on his sons’ crossbows. The only one not wielding one of these weapons was Caleb himself. Instead, he held a black-handled axe in his hand, the moonlight glinting off its blade. Winter noted that there was one Bennet brother missing – Sam.

Caleb moved towards Winter, his eyes shining with malice.

‘Well, Winter, it seems you were of use to us after all.’

Winter stared at him in fear. ‘How did you —’

She trailed off as she saw Sam lead Jasmine into the church. The trickle of blood had dried down her cheek. Her gait was slow and shuffling like that of a sleepwalker.

‘Jasmine?’ Winter called out, but her friend didn’t respond. Her expression was blank, drugged.

Outraged, Winter turned to Caleb, warning, ‘If you’ve hurt her —’

The old man grinned. ‘Oh, don’t worry, she’ll snap out of it in a few minutes. Luckily for us, she served her purpose. I’m surprised I needed Damien’s abilities to coax your whereabouts out of her. Especially after you callously left her behind in the woods. Bad form, Winter.’

Caleb shook his head at her in an exaggerated show of disappointment, and despite her hatred of him, his words cut Winter to the quick.

Damien inched closer to Blake, keeping his crossbow trained on the tortured figure. ‘Father, do you want me to finish him?’

Caleb shook his head. ‘Not yet, take the girls outside first.’ He turned towards Winter. ‘Of course, unless you want to stay?’

Anger boiled up inside her. ‘I’m not going to let you do this.’

Before Caleb could reply, Blake cried out, ‘Leave, Winter!’

Startled by the sound, she turned back to face him. He hadn’t moved from his position against the altar platform; couldn’t move, in fact, as the bolts pinned him as ably as a butterfly to a killing board. His head lolled, his eyes glittering with tears, and Winter felt her heart break.

She looked from Blake to the axe in Caleb’s hand and understood what he meant to do. The eagerness in the old man’s eyes chilled her to the bone. Caleb had trained his whole life to be an executioner and appeared excited by the chance to employ his craft. Winter could not expect any mercy from him.

Sam strode past Caleb and took Winter firmly by the arm.

‘C’mon, Winter. You don’t need to see this.’ There was a hint of compassion in his voice, but it did nothing to soothe her anger.

‘Get off me!’ Winter yanked her arm free and backed away towards Blake.

She turned to him, imploring, ‘Go, Blake! Get away from here!’

Caleb chuckled at her efforts. ‘Don’t you think the creature would have left by now if he could? He’s not going anywhere.’

Winter looked at the thin, cruel bolts jutting from Blake’s shoulders. No wonder he hadn’t Travelled yet! Something in the Bane’s metal arrows must have been keeping him fixed on this plane of existence.

With an enormous effort, Blake raised his head and stared at Caleb, his glare accusing. ‘You destroyed my house.’ His voice was very weak, full of pain.

Caleb nodded. ‘Yes. Soon you’ll be gone too.’

‘You fools,’ Blake replied quietly. His skin had taken on a waxy pallor, but his eyes still burned brightly. Not with anger, as Winter might have expected, but with fear. ‘You let her out.’