Winter's Shadow (44 page)

His words, though almost a whisper, hung heavily in the old church, seeming to carry with them a terrible promise. It was all the more frightening due to its ambiguity –
let whom out?
Winter glanced back at Caleb and his sons. The vaguely worried expressions of confusion she saw on their faces suggested they were as uneasy as she was.

A cold wind began to blow, whining eerily as it gained entrance to the church through the cracks and holes. Winter began to shiver. The skin on her arms tingled uncomfortably, and she was reminded of the last time she’d been in this church. As it had then, moments before the roof had caved in, a premonition was forming – one no less loaded with menace.

Something was coming!

Marcus, Sam and Damien looked at each other fearfully. Only Caleb seemed unmoved by the chill wind and the sense of menace that had invaded this place. Clearing his throat, he raised his voice to the quiet church. ‘Hurry now. Let the thing be done.’

He shoved Winter out of the way and began to walk towards Blake. Blake looked past his executioner to Winter with raw, pain-clouded eyes. Her heart felt as though it was being wrenched apart. She couldn’t let this happen!

Winter ran in front of Caleb, blocking his route to Blake. ‘Don’t come any closer!’

‘Silly girl,’ the old man said, smiling cruelly, and raised the axe over his head as though he meant to cleave through Winter to get to Blake. Winter planted her feet and closed her eyes in anticipation of the killing blow, but it never came.

Instead, a deafening shriek tore through the church, halting Caleb’s progress. It was the sound Winter heard in the woods as the Velasco place burned. The wind seemed to die down abruptly, the forces of nature themselves retreating from this place in fear. Winter opened her eyes and saw Caleb’s ashen face. The axe hung weakly in his trembling grasp. Behind him the Bennets were waving their crossbows about erratically, searching the eaves of the fallen church with their torch beams for the source of the chilling sound.

Seconds passed in excruciating suspense, and then the horror began.

With a second deafening shriek, a ragged white shape exploded out of the shadows above Caleb and swept the old man off his feet, spiriting him to the other side of the church. There, the nightmarish shape –
a woman
, Winter could see by her long, tangled grey hair, and stained white robes – hunched over his squirming figure and kissed him. There was no tenderness in the action – nothing but violence and a chilling ardour. Caleb’s limbs twitched and jerked as he struggled beneath the shrieker’s embrace, but his efforts were futile. In the space of a few seconds, his entire form seemed to crumple and sink, as though the bones, organs and muscles were being sucked away.

Winter was vaguely aware of cries around her and movement, but she was unable to heed them, so transfixed was she by the horrible feeding. Mercifully, she was spared seeing Caleb’s face, as the woman’s hunched form blocked her view, but Winter could imagine the terror in his eyes. She could imagine it all too easily.

Something whistled past her head – another of the Bane’s iron bolts – but this one didn’t find its mark, instead slamming into the wall beside the creature’s head. Like a startled vulture, the mad woman flew off Caleb’s wasted form and disappeared into the shadows over their heads.

‘Father!’ Sam rushed to Caleb’s side, while everyone else appeared rooted to the spot in terror. Winter watched as Sam cradled his father’s lifeless head in his arms, still too petrified to feel anything but the vaguest
sympathy for him. A scream from the back of the church shattered the stunned silence, and jerked Winter’s attention away from the grieving son.

The woman had appeared behind Marcus and Damien. They scrambled to bring their crossbows around, but her speed was too great. She’d managed to knock Damien to the ground and pull Marcus into her embrace before a single shot was fired. Winter heard Jasmine scream as the nightmarish spectacle jolted her out of her stupor. The woman planted her lips on her captured prey’s mouth and began to suck his life force away. Damien struggled to his feet, and with a loud battlecry charged towards the feasting banshee with his weapon raised.

His shots went wide and, once he was in striking distance, the woman lashed out with one thin arm, sending him flying the length of the church in an impossible display of strength. Damien’s body smashed right through one of the support columns as though it were made of paper, before landing sprawled and lifeless beside Blake. Winter could see Blake’s tormented expression as he watched the massacre from his trapped position. His frightened gaze silently implored her to run, but she simply couldn’t leave him. There was a loud rumble from the eaves above them, followed by a shower of dust, as the church struggled with the loss of another of its support beams.

Finished with Marcus, the madwoman dropped his limp body and turned towards Jasmine, who was
cowering behind a pillar. Horrified, Winter watched as the monster’s tongue slithered out of her mouth, licking her dry lips in anticipation of another meal. Jasmine screamed again as the woman strode towards her.

A bolt fired from behind Winter whined through the air, glancing off the creature’s shoulder. The effort was enough to distract the woman from her intended victim, and with a howl of rage she turned to confront her attacker. Sam ran to Winter’s side, already loading a fresh iron bolt into the crossbow’s chamber.

‘Get behind me!’ he grunted. There were tears in his eyes, but he seemed resolute not to let his grief stand between him and vengeance. He aimed the crossbow at the creature and fired, but before the bolt could strike its target the woman winked out of existence. One moment she was standing there, the next she was gone!

The church was silent, save for Jasmine’s sobbing at the back of the room and the increasing rumbles from the roof above.
If we don’t get out of here soon
, the thought flashed in the back of Winter’s mind,
the roof will come down and kill us all!
A large piece of timber fell from the eaves and crashed to the ground as if to prove her suspicion. However, there was still no sign of the evil apparition. Winter kept close to Sam as he slowly circled the church with the crossbow, using the torch beam to search the darkness.

‘Behind you!’ Blake cried out with a cracked voice from his position, but it was too late. The woman materialised behind them, her green eyes blazing with madness
and hatred. Now that the creature was so close, Winter was shocked to discover she recognised her face. As Blake had mentioned, the hair had turned slate grey but the eyes . . . the eyes had triggered her memory. So much like her brother’s yet darker, crueller. This banshee was Blake’s sister – Claudette!

Claudette’s ragged white robes swirled around her as she reached towards Winter, her hands hooked into claws. Sam thrust himself into her path, but she swatted him aside easily. Her hunger was fixed on Winter. Now there were no more obstacles in her way, Claudette seemed to slow her attack, apparently relishing the moment before the kill. Her mouth (
her gums! Her gums were black!
) twisted into something approximating a smile. It was the most terrifying thing Winter had ever seen.

Winter knew she was close to death; she could smell it in Claudette’s rank breath. Sam lay slumped against one of the rotting columns, chin resting on his chest, barely conscious. Jasmine had crawled into the corner and was hiding from the howling nightmare, sobbing to herself quietly. There would be no last-second rescue from either of them.

Winter willed her limbs to start working so she could at least try to get away, but they didn’t respond. What would be the use, anyway? How could you outrun a creature that could move through space and time in the blink of an eye? Winter felt paralysed – unable to run or even scream. Claudette’s shining green eyes held her
own in their mad gaze, rooting her to the spot. Winter felt her will to live ebbing as she stared into those terrifying emerald depths. Claudette moved closer, closer still . . .

There was a whistling sound over Winter’s shoulder, a faint gust of air on her cheek, as the iron bolt flew by. Claudette’s eyes widened in shock. Her viper’s smile vanished; her jaw fell and she staggered backwards, scraping at her chest. An awful, low keening sound came from the depths of her throat. Her pale hands gripped the end of an iron bolt, the rest of which was buried in the flesh just above her right breast, piercing her heart. The madness fled from Claudette’s face, and Winter could see that she shared her brother’s beauty. It had been corrupted, transformed by the terrible hunger inside. Now it was restored to her in her last tragic moments.

It couldn’t have been Sam who fired the shot, as Winter saw him now limp towards Claudette from the opposite direction, dragging his father’s axe behind him. Letting out a hoarse battlecry, Sam swung once, deftly slicing into Claudette’s neck. She dropped to the ground, and he swung again, finishing the job.

‘Winter . . .’

Blake!

Winter turned and ran to where Blake lay, his breathing laboured. He was holding Damien’s crossbow in one shaking arm, pointed at the fallen body of his sister. The youngest member of the Bane sprawled a few feet away from him, his hair matted with blood. Winter crouched
at Blake’s side. The tears were coming now, tears of grief and shock, spilling over her cheeks.

‘I killed her . . .’

‘You saved me.’

‘It wasn’t her fault. It was the hunger.’

‘Don’t talk,’ she said, trying to keep him from wasting his energy, but Blake was fighting to explain himself.

‘I couldn’t let her hurt you . . . like the others.’

Winter knew later she would have time to piece the puzzle together more clearly, but she’d seen enough to form a hazy impression of what had happened. All those girls hadn’t been killed by Blake – but by Claudette. Poor mad Claudette . . . born without the strength to resist the darkness inside.

Winter tenderly brushed back one of Blake’s curls. ‘It’s over now. She’s found peace.’

‘Peace?’ Blake looked up at her in confusion as though the word was unknown to him. The expression was so naked and vulnerable that Winter felt fresh tears spilling down her face.

‘Everything’s going to be all right,’ she managed to choke out as she kissed his burning cheeks. Winter moved to his lips, kissing him deeply on the mouth, feeling that tingling sensation which was both wonderful and frightening. Immediately, she felt herself being drawn into him, and he into her. Winter knew it was dangerous but she didn’t care. Damn the consequences! After a few glorious seconds she felt him feebly trying to push her off him. It would have been easy to stay, pressed up against him, their lips sealed together, but she drew herself back.

‘Easy now.’ Blake was staring at her with those beautiful green eyes. Wincing, he tried to raise himself up. ‘Could you . . .’ Winter was appalled at her own ignorance. One of the iron bolts still nailed him to the altar. He’d ripped out the other one in his effort to reach and fire the crossbow at Claudette. Luckily neither had pierced his heart, but the pain must be excruciating.

Winter gulped, baulking at the act. ‘What should I . . . ?’

He tenderly placed her hands on the shaft of the left bolt.

‘Just pull.’

Winter nodded, steeled herself and then, with her eyes closed, yanked the bolt free from Blake’s right shoulder. Blake let out a scream of pain, the sound of his agony raking across Winter’s heart. She cradled his face in her hands, feeling his tears on her fingers.

Blake smiled feebly at her. ‘Thank you.’

She leaned down to kiss his tears away. ‘Can you move?’ He was too hot. Sick heat radiated from him in waves. Why was he looking at her like this? That pained smile on his face seemed entirely for her benefit. He was trying to distract her from the deeper truth.

The sounds from above were increasing in volume. Another loose timber strut crashed to the floor a short distance from them.

‘We have to go, Blake. The roof . . .’

He shook his head, still smiling through his pain. ‘No. I’m staying.’

Winter frowned, confused by the finality of Blake’s words. She felt fresh tears welling again, and her throat was tight and restricted. ‘What are you talking about?’ More dust was falling from the ceiling now, covering them in a fine layer, but Winter barely noticed it.

Blake looked past her shoulder, his eyes narrowing, and whispered, ‘It’s time.’

Winter turned to follow his gaze and saw them hovering behind her, watching silently – the Skivers.