Blake is gone. He sacrificed himself to save Winter, leaving her alone, unprotected . . . hunted.

An ancient enemy is rising, but Winter is no longer the innocent girl who was fated to die at Pilgrims Lament. She will not wait to be saved. She will do what she must to survive, even accept an unsavoury alliance with those who destroyed her love. In the gathering darkness, the enemy of an enemy is not always a friend, and Winter must find the strength to stand alone and fight for the one she loves. For she is the key to unlocking the secrets beyond the veil of shadows. And she is Blakes only hope.

Contents
Cover Blurb Title Page Dedication Epigraph The Farseer Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Blakes Diary, August 13th The Black Mirror Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Chapter Twenty-Six The Dead Lands Chapter Twenty-Seven Chapter Twenty-Eight Chapter Twenty-Nine Chapter Thirty Chapter Thirty-One The Slave Chapter Thirty-Two Chapter Thirty-Three Blakes Diary, August 17th Chapter Thirty-Four Chapter Thirty-Five Elumen Var Chapter Thirty-Six Chapter Thirty-Seven Chapter Thirty-Eight Chapter Thirty-Nine Chapter Forty Chapter Forty-One Chapter Forty-Two Chapter Forty-Three Chapter Forty-Four Blakes Diary, August 23rd Escape From The Dead Lands Chapter Forty-Five Chapter Forty-Six Chapter Forty-Seven Chapter Forty-Eight Chapter Forty-Nine Mother Blakes Diary, August 26th Chapter Fifty Chapter Fifty-One

Chapter Fifty-Two Chapter Fifty-Three Chapter Fifty-Four Chapter Fifty-Five Chapter Fifty-Six Chapter Fifty-Seven Chapter Fifty-Eight Chapter Fifty-Nine Chapter Sixty Chapter Sixty-One Chapter Sixty-Two Chapter Sixty-Three Chapter Sixty-Four Acknowledgements About M.J. Hearle Copyright Page

For Dad, The best man I know.

Ce que je fais ce soir, je fais pour elle . . .

The Farseer Two thousand years ago . . .

Lamara trailed closely behind the farseer, her gaze focused on the burning torch in his hand. The orange flames licked at the tunnel walls and ceiling, hurting her eyes with their brilliance, but she didnt look away. It was better than watching the darkness. Teodore, the stonesmiths son, had told her there were trolls in these mountains and sometimes she thought she could hear footsteps following behind. Once when she looked back she was sure she saw a pair of dull green eyes staring at her, but when she blinked they were gone. No, it was better to watch the farseers fire, and pray to the gods it wouldnt go out. He had not spoken to her since theyd entered the tunnel, and had said only three words beforehand.

Are you prepared?

Lamara said she was, although in truth felt anything but. It was the games that had brought her here. Three weeks ago the farseers acolytes grim-faced, bearded men wrapped in dark furs had appeared in her village. Along with the other girls of her age, none older than twelve, Lamara had been asked to play a series of games in the village square. Strange, childish games involving ropes tied

into intricate knots. While the other girls struggled to unravel the knotted cords, Lamara merely had to touch the twisted material and it loosened. This trick of hers greatly interested the acolytes and a meeting was called between her mother, the village high priest, Ufgar, and the farseers men. After the meeting, Lamara was told by her mother that shed been awarded a rare gift. She was to see the farseer. A single tear had trickled down her mothers face, which Lamara didnt understand. This was not a sad occasion. It was a great honour to be summoned by the farseer. He was closer to the gods than even Ufgar. She knew this despite never having seen the farseer. In fact nobody she asked seemed to know exactly what he looked like. Not Selek, not Valmer, and certainly not that irritating Teodore. The only information she could gather before being put on the back of one of the acolytes horses was that the farseer was very old and very mysterious, and that she shouldnt stare into his eyes for too long. To do so might give him power over her. This last warning was given by Teodore so she ignored it. Lamara and the acolytes had travelled for three days along a winding trail which led them through a rocky narrow ravine, and into a vast forest where it always seemed to be twilight. After the trees thinned, the ground became rocky and the air cold and Lamara could barely see the sky for the tall mountains crowding around them. It was on the slope of one of these craggy peaks that the farseers hut lay. As she waited nervously for him to emerge, Lamara thought of all the stories shed heard about the farseer. That he was actually one of the gods masquerading in human form, that his father was a wolf, his mother a great shebear, that he was older than the Sacred Tree in the village square had in fact planted the acorn which sprouted it. Silly childrens stories, stories Lamara might have believed when she was younger, but now that she was nearly a woman found easy to dismiss. Or had done until now. The door to the farseers hut swung open, and as he stepped into the clear afternoon light, Lamaras breath

caught in her throat. Dressed in a shaggy bearskin, the farseer stood taller than any other man Lamara had ever seen. His thick grey beard flowed down over his chest and was threaded with feathers and yellowed animal bones which rattled when he moved. It was his eyes that transfixed Lamara the most. So dark and wide they appeared to see everything all at once. Held in his penetrating gaze, Teodores warning no longer seemed so foolish, and it was only with great effort that she managed to look away. Leave us, he gruffly ordered the acolytes. Wordlessly, the rider shed been clinging to for the journey dismounted and joined his brothers. A cloud of dust was kicked up as the men turned their horses around and rode back the way theyd come. The farseer waited for the dust to settle and then slowly approached Lamara. Her horse snorted and tamped the ground, unnerved by the old mans looming presence. She held the reins tightly, but there was a part of her, a large part, that wanted to ride after the acolytes. Lamara had never been so scared in her entire life. Do not be afraid, young daughter of the grey wolves, the farseer said, gently taking the reins with one hand and offering her his other. I will not hurt you. She sniffed back the rising tears and nervously met his gaze. His expression was forbidding, but there was nothing in it that suggested he meant her harm. With a trembling breath she slipped her palm into his and allowed him to help her to the ground. Your journey was long and you must be hungry and tired, yes? She nodded wordlessly, still too intimidated to speak. It had been many hours since shed eaten. I have food inside, he said, and began walking towards the hut. Lamara waited till hed taken a few steps before following him. It was her empty stomach more than anything that lent her the courage to do so. Inside the hut a broth was bubbling in a dented cauldron and the air smelt mouth-wateringly like boiled rabbit. The farseer gestured to a pile of furs on the ground. Sit. Lamara obeyed, trying not to look at the various skulls

hanging from the ceiling. Not all of them were animals. He spooned some of the broth into a wooden bowl and passed it to her. This will restore your strength. Be careful, its hot. Lamara sipped the broth and was pleased to discover it tasted as delicious as it smelt. The farseer watched her eat in silence, thoughtfully stroking the tangled strands of his beard. She was too hungry to feel uncomfortable with the scrutiny. When shed finished the bowl he poured another, and began to ask her questions. They talked about her mother, her grandmother, and her father who had been put in the ground three winters ago, his face black from the frost. They talked about the village, her friends, how often she prayed and to which gods. When she finished answering all of his questions, Lamara finally mustered the nerve to ask one of her own. Please, Farseer, tell me why you have brought me here to the mountain? A worthy question, daughter, and one Im surprised you didnt ask earlier. Life is about asking questions after all. Seeking knowledge. Shining light on the darkness and seeing what lies there. Only the foolish never ask why?. It is my own questions that have brought you here, Lamara. He took a breath and the small flecks of light in his eyes seemed to flare brighter, like embers in the fire. Put simply, I wish to know the unknowable. I wish to visit with the gods. Lamara frowned, unsure if shed understood him correctly. Do you mean youve summoned me to help you . . . pray? The farseer chuckled softly. No. I am tired of silent prayers. Of reading signs in the clouds and trees and blood on the ground. I will look upon the gods with my own eyes. Hear their voices with my own ears. Touch them with these hands. He balled his hands into fists. I wish to go to them as you see me. Spirit and body as one. Lamara felt even more confused than she had before, but before she could ask another question the farseer continued. I have spent the last ten years building a doorway. A portal, the design of which has haunted my dreams ever since I was a small child. The same vision,

tormenting me every time I closed my eyes, until I understood that this vision was a message from the gods. Instructions on how to travel to them. He fell silent, yet his eyes never left Lamaras and she realised he was waiting for her to speak. To ask another question. Forgive me, Farseer, but why do you need me? I know nothing of doorways and portals. I do not need you for your knowledge, daughter. I need you for your power. Your rare gift. It is true, I have built my doorway, but it will not open beneath my touch. The door is locked and will remain so until I find my Key. I believe this Key is you. A troubling sense of foreboding settled over her as the farseer explained that this was why he had sent the acolytes to Lamaras village. The strange games of knotted ropes shed been forced to play were a test. A test only the farseers Key could successfully pass. What if youre wrong? Lamara asked when the farseer had finished explaining the ceremony he intended to perform and the role she was to play. What if Im not the Key? Despite her faith in the farseer, what he was proposing sounded impossible, especially this mystical power she was supposed to possess. The old mans eyebrows twitched, then lowered ominously. I am the farseer. I am never wrong, he replied, the dangerous edge in his voice prompting Lamara to quickly close her mouth. It seemed the farseers passion for questions didnt include those that cast doubt over his wisdom. She ate the rest of her broth in silence, only once glancing up at the farseer to see if he was still angry with her. The emotion she saw reflected in his wizened features was even more troubling than anger the farseer looked afraid. Lamara was thinking about that shadowy look on the old mans face when the tunnel lightened up ahead. Shed almost given up hope that theyd ever reach the other side of the mountain. While the promise of daylight lifted her spirits, the relief she felt was short-lived. Outside lay the

farseers doorway. Soon it would be clear whether or not his faith in her was well founded. If she really was the Key. Blinking in the daylight, like a rabbit emerging from its hole, it took a few moments for Lamaras eyes to adjust. When they did she paused, momentarily stunned by the view. They were near the mountains summit on a flat piece of rocky ground stretching out over a vast canyon. A thick, white fog rolled sluggishly through the canyon, as though some of the clouds had spilled from the sky and become trapped. Past this Lamara could see a purple mountain range rippling along the horizon. The jagged peaks were lost in a flashing thunderhead. Seven acolytes were already gathered here on the rock ledge, dressed in furs and carrying long wooden torches. The flames blazed crimson against the gloomy sky. The nearest acolyte shuffled forward, took the farseers torch from him, and handed him a robe. Lamara had never seen such a magnificent piece of cloth. Rich and black with silver embroidery, the robe looked like it had been woven from the night itself. As the acolyte helped the farseer dress, Lamaras gaze drifted to the object standing near the cliffs edge on a raised dais. Her eyes widened the portal. Standing as tall as two men, the portal was made of three major pieces, two outer rings of chiselled granite engraved with a series of spidery runes, encircling a central disc of polished black stone. Looking at this stone, the sense of foreboding returned stronger than ever. Shed never seen anything like it. It was so shiny it looked like the still surface of a lake. The robe now draped around his large frame, the farseer walked towards the portal. The acolytes silently formed a half-ring around the dais behind him. Their torches flickered as a cold wind gusted down from the snowy peak above and Lamara started to shiver. She told herself this was because of the cold. The farseer turned to his men, singling each one out individually as he spoke. Friends, it is faith that has brought you to the mountain this day. Faith that I, your farseer, will

reveal to you a great secret. Show you a glimpse of the holy of the divine. He paused, the echo of his voice disappearing into the swirling mists of the canyon. Along with the acolytes, Lamara stared at the farseer, mesmerised by his commanding tone and blazing eyes. The farseers eyes sought Lamara now and, despite the cold, she felt her face flush with heat. Come forward, Lamara, daughter of Myrlye and Dathur. Come to your farseer and let us begin. Swallowing nervously, Lamara went to him. He looked down at her and whispered, Do as we discussed. Remember, it is a simple thing to open a door. One must merely grasp the handle and pull. Lamara nodded and hesitantly stepped up to the dais. Approaching the portal, she could see her face reflected in the central discs midnight-black surface, pale and uncertain. Her red hair whipped about her head like the flames of the acolytes torches. Licking her dry lips, Lamara placed her hands on the stone. She was shocked at how warm the surface felt, as if the stone had just been lifted from a fire. She closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind. For some reason all she could see was the image of her mothers tear-stained face. She was going to fail. There was no power in her. There was nothing but doubt and fear. Behind her the acolytes began to hum, their deep, resonant voices harmonising together in a single note which sent chills down Lamaras back. Somehow the hum helped her to think more clearly and focus on the image she needed to build. She pictured a door, a simple wooden door with an iron latch. She could see the swirling knots of the wood, the dull lustre of the iron latch and then the latch was lifting . . . Another sound now rose above the acolytes hum, a grinding sound. Lamara dared to open her eyes and saw the outer ring of the portal begin to turn. Her heart began to beat faster. It was working! Now the inner ring began to turn, rotating in the opposite direction from the outer ring. The rings moved faster, gathering speed until the carved runes blurred, became indistinguishable. Something else was

happening the black stone beneath her palms was growing hot. Uncomfortably hot. Lamaras excitement turned to panic. The heat coming from the portal was incredible. Sweat began to trickle down her face, running into her eyes and making them sting. The humming of the acolytes filled the air like the buzzing of flies over a dead animal. Her eyes widened as the surface of the black stone started to lose its consistency, a weird green light rippling across it. If she applied pressure, Lamara knew she would push through the stone, push through to the other side. Suddenly she had a frightening conviction this was wrong! She should stop now or risk a horrible punishment. The gods were angry with her. With a small cry Lamara stumbled backwards from the portal and fell roughly to the ground. The rings continued to turn, sending off green sparks that lit the darkening sky. The farseer barely glanced at her lying on the ground as he strode towards the portal. No! Lamara cried out weakly. Stretching his hands out the farseer placed them on the black stone. His face relaxed into an expression of rapture and then darkened. Lamara was close enough to see the farseers hesitation quickly turn to fear as the stone liquefied, surging over his hands, up to his forearms, like mud. Suddenly, the farseer whipped his head around, screaming in panic. Help me, you fools! The sparks intensified with the speed of the rings, a brilliant wheel of green light. Lamara squinted into the shimmering radiance, unable to move, paralysed with fear. It was as though the farseer was standing before a great eye, rimmed with emerald fire. Two of the braver acolytes rushed to his aid and took hold of his arms which were now submerged to their elbows in the rippling black stone. Green sparks lashed out from the whirling rings, striking the acolytes and knocking them backwards. The acrid smell of burnt flesh polluted the air. Howling in terror, the farseer was drawn deeper into the stone, almost to his chest. He glanced down at Lamara one last time, wide eyes staring from an ashen face, and

gasped, It was never meant to be opened! Never and then he was violently sucked inside the stone. Lost in its pulsing, dark heart.

Chapter 1

Winter ran through the woods, dead leaves crunching beneath her feet. The moon shone overhead, but it was a moon shed never seen before. It was a deep violet shade, and the light it cast was sickly and unreal. The ragged white thing flitting through the treetops behind her cackled again. A horrible sound that made Winters racing heart shudder in fright. It was playing with her. If she could make it to the church then she might be safe. Surely such a profane creature could not enter hallowed ground. By the moonlight she could see the trees thinning up ahead. A shadowed structure stood hunched in the clearing. The church Pilgrims Lament. In the back of her mind a voice of caution cried out as she pushed through the branches into the clearing. She was too scared, too panicked to heed it. The thing cackled behind her again, louder now, but Winter sensed a note of uncertainty in its tone. A faltering quality that suggested it was no longer confident the game was already won. Taking the cracked stone steps two at a time Winter rushed to the arched doorway, reaching for the handle. It was locked, and for a moment she despaired. Then she remembered who she was. What she was. A Key. Sure enough, the door now turned easily beneath her

hand and Winter stepped into the church. The thing cried out in fury at her back, just as she slammed the door shut, locking its rage outside. Panting breathlessly, Winter slowly turned around. She was not alone. She had made a mistake. Better to face the monster outside than this. Looking at the gruesome tableau at the end of the church, terror washed over Winter, leaching the strength from her legs and stealing the scream even as it rose to her lips. Blake lay stretched upon the rotten church altar, his shirt ripped from his body exposing his bruised and bloody torso. His head lolled to the side, pain-filled eyes boring into hers. Three Skivers stood over him, their inhumanly wide grins gleaming in the purple moon glow spilling in through the damaged roof. In unison, they chattered a demonic greeting to her and then returned to the task at hand. The tallest the master held a pair of scissors in one hand, in the other, Blakes life force. Winter could see the pulsing sphere of brilliant red light spilling between the creatures bony fingers. As Blake writhed in pain, the master began to snip the red luminescent tendrils connecting Blake to his life force, his spirit, his soul. Winter found her voice and screamed, NO! She started to run down the aisle towards the altar, hoping she might be able to stop the master somehow before he cut the last glowing fibre. Something was wrong though her feet moved sluggishly as if the ground had turned to molasses, slowing her progress. She wasnt going to make it! The instant she reached the base of the altar the Skivers and Blake vanished into the violet darkness, leaving her alone. No, not alone. There was a deafening pounding on the door, followed by the sound of splintering wood and the front doors were thrown open. Claudette stood on the churchs threshold, her eyes bright with madness and hunger. Winter was paralysed, rooted to the spot with a mixture of terror and grief, watching as Claudette began to walk towards her. Every time the Demori stepped out of the smoky moonlight into the shadows, she reappeared impossibly closer,

closing the distance between them with a scant number of steps. Now she was almost upon Winter, Claudette opened her mouth, her jaw unhinging like a snake. With the stench of foul breath filling her senses, Winter closed her eyes, tensing for the pain, tensing for the end. It didnt come. Instead, Winter jerked awake, sitting up in the bluetinged darkness of her room, her hand clutching at her chest. Outside she could see a crescent moon shining in the sky, a lop-sided Cheshire grin. Its light was blue. Not the crazy violet glow of the dream. Nefertem sat at the foot of the bed, watching her curiously. Sorry for waking you up, Winter said to the cat, her voice a little shaky. Her heartbeat had finally begun to slow again, but she still felt the residual adrenaline racing through her veins like liquid fire. The ginger tabby yawned in response and closed its eyes, content to go back to sleep as there was no immediate danger. Winter flopped back down onto the mattress and sighed wearily. She looked over at the lodestone lying on her bedside table. The rough surface of the green crystal reflected the stray moonbeams falling in through the window. Picking it up, she held the necklace tightly like a talisman and closed her eyes. Blake, she whispered into the dark.

Chapter 2

The smell of burning toast roused Winter from the half-sleep shed fallen into. Blearily, she opened her eyes and gazed out the window at the overcast sky. Its dour light reflected her mood. Her head felt too tight, like somebody had dropped it in a vice and compressed it. She was tired of feeling this way. Tired of waking up after a night of bad dreams, feeling like she hadnt slept at all. Nefertem was nowhere to be seen, which meant hed already left to seek his breakfast. As Winter pulled on her dressing gown, the smell of burning pricked her nostrils again. Either the house was on fire or Lucy was cooking breakfast. Distantly, she could hear the sound of something sizzling in a pan. Usually her sister left for work before Winter rolled out of bed. What was the occasion? Before braving the kitchen, Winter ducked into the bathroom to splash some cold water on her face. She doubted it would wash away the shadows from beneath her eyes but it might shock some life back into her pale features. Lucy had been watching her like a hawk lately so she didnt want to risk arousing her suspicion by looking exhausted and stressed. Last week shed brought up the topic of therapy again much to Winters irritation. There was no way she was going to see a shrink.

What could she talk about? Blake? Her Demori lover who had the power to travel through shadows and had shown Winter glimpses of another world, a place of monsters and magic called the Dead Lands. Could she tell a shrink about that night in the church on Owl Mountain? How Blake had been forced to murder his demented twin sister Claudette to protect Winter, before making an even greater sacrifice offering his soul in place of hers to the dark forces the Skivers that laid claim to it. Could she explain how shed watched helplessly as these grinning monsters coldly cut out Blakes life force before returning to the Dead Lands? How not a night had gone by without her agonising over what had happened to her loves spirit in that otherworldly realm. There were things in the Dead Lands worse than Skivers. Dark beings called the Malfaerie, related to the Demori by blood, but lacking any of their despised cousins humanity. Or mercy. These creatures feasted on mortal essences like they were chocolates. To know this was where Blake had been taken was almost too much to bear, but she didnt think talking about this pain with a medical professional was a smart idea. A story like hers would guarantee a one-way trip to the loony bin. Of course her sister didnt know what shed been through. Lucy thought Winter was just experiencing some delayed grief about their parents death, and for all Winter knew maybe she was. It had happened nearly a year ago, but maybe it was tied up, along with Blake, in that black webbing of misery and pain she felt strangling her heart. It was amazing that she wasnt a twenty-four-hour-a-day blubbering mess. She had to stay strong. For Blake. Hed given up so much for her, the least she could do was endure this period of darkness and hope that the light was on its way. Standing over the basin, Winter tied her red hair back and stared critically at her reflection. The same pale face, smattering of light freckles across the bridge of her nose and dark blue eyes she saw every morning stared back. Almost unaware she was doing it, Winter summoned the Sight.

This ability had been bestowed or awakened by the first kiss shed shared with Blake on the cold sand of Lighthouse Beach. It allowed her to see the Occuluma twin flames that burned deeply in the pupils of all living things. By studying these flames she could estimate a persons life span kind of like a battery reading. The colour of the flames blazed a constant spectral blue unless you were a Demori like Blake, in which case they glowed emerald. As Blake had explained, every living thing had a prescribed beginning and end a life path. However, it was possible to avoid your natural end, to cheat destiny, either accidentally or on purpose, and when this happened the colour of your Occuluma transformed from blue to a malevolent crimson. But in doing this you risked a much worse fate than death. Once marked with the red Occuluma, your soul became available for collection by the Skivers. Winters eyes had once glowed with this frightening red light, but because of Blakes sacrifice shed been saved and her light now shone a healthy blue. Still, every time she glanced at her reflection Winter half expected to see the crimson flames return. Looking at her reflection, she saw the twin flames burning in her pupils and was comforted by both their brilliance and their hue. It didnt look like she was going to die today. Grimly satisfied, Winter left the bathroom and went to see her sister. Lucy was standing over the stove, protecting her pale green pharmacy uniform with their mothers faded floral apron as she fried bacon in a pan. The bacon was clearly done, yet Lucy seemed oblivious to this fact. She glanced up at Winters approach and smiled broadly. Morning, Win. Youre just in time. I was about to wake you up. Suspicious, Winter took a seat at the kitchen table. Lucy had already poured her a glass of orange juice. Whats the occasion? Lucy brought the pan over and scraped the bacon onto her plate, which already held two pieces of burnt toast and

a splatter of watery, scrambled eggs. Its not every day my little sister graduates. She handed Winter a fork and knife. Dig in. Winter frowned for a moment, realising shed completely forgotten she was supposed to graduate today. Lately her memory seemed shot to pieces. Noticing her sister hadnt joined her, she asked, Youre not eating? Already have, Lucy said, leaning against the kitchen counter and sipping her coffee. Ive got to get going soon. Looks great, she said, poking at the blackened piece of bacon before deciding the eggs were probably a safer bet. Are you excited? Lucy asked, watching her closely over the brim of her coffee cup. Winter attempted to adopt an appropriate expression of anticipation. Sure am. It still feels a little unreal. Like Im going to get up there and Principal Sorensen is gonna say, Sorry kid, looks like theres been a mistake. Youre with us for another year. Thats not going to happen. Well see. Winter forced some more of the eggs down, feeling self-conscious beneath Lucys gaze. Theres . . . um . . . something I was going to ask you, Lucy said hesitantly. Winter stiffened, preparing herself for another mental health discussion, but was surprised by what came out of her sisters mouth. Do you mind if Dominic comes to the ceremony today? Um . . . sure. Winter shrugged, unable to restrain a smirk. Dominic Westlake was a drug sales rep Lucy had met at their fathers old pharmacy where she worked as a dispensary assistant. New to town, Dominic had asked Lucy out on the pretence of wanting a local to show him the sights, but it was pretty obvious to Winter that he was interested. Sure enough theyd started dating properly a couple of weeks ago. Winter had only met Dominic once, but the impression

hed left had been blandly favourable. In his late twenties, he was tall and surprisingly athletic-looking for a guy who spent his whole day driving around selling antihistamine tablets. Dominic was not particularly handsome or charming. In fact he was kind of quiet. Quiet and with his thick, black glasses, a little dorky. Perfect for Lucy. He might not come, Lucy added, but I thought Id ask him anyway. You go girl, Winter said, forcing a weak smile. She wanted to be happy for Lucy but she could only muster up the illusion of the emotion. Her heart was too heavy. Lucy nodded, flushing an adorable pink colour. Okay, I guess Ill see you at lunchtime then. Im looking forward to it. She gathered up her purse and car keys from the table. Thanks for breakfast, Winter called after her as she ducked into the hallway and headed down to the garage. Moments later the car started up and Winter heard the BEEP BEEP BEEP of the old station wagon as it backed down the driveway. Winter sat a moment later in the kitchen listening to the fridge buzz softly and then stood to get dressed for her last day of school.

Chapter 3

At around eight-thirty she heard the cheerful honking of Jasmines Mini Cooper outside. She quickly finished dressing, gave her unruly red hair a few final vigorous brushes (this didnt do much about the unruliness) and was about to leave when she remembered the lodestone. It was still lying on her bedside table where shed left it this morning. She hadnt gone a day without wearing it since Blake had given it to her in the Velasco Place. A constant reminder of him, instead of causing her pain, wearing the necklace comforted her. The emerald crystal shard once had the power to call Blake back from the Dead Lands and though this power seemed to be spent, sometimes when Winter looked at it she felt a glimmer of hope. If only for a moment or two. Slipping the small silver chain over her head and feeling better for it, she ran out of the house to meet Jasmine. Winter could see Jasmine impatiently drumming her fingers on the steering wheel as she slid down the steep driveway, nearly losing her balance in her haste. As usual her friend looked spectacular, making Winter feel even more self-conscious about her sloppy appearance. Jasmine was wearing a thin gold headband, the colour complementing her honey-coloured Vietnamese skin beautifully. Winter wished she could wear something as

effortlessly chic, but knew she could never pull it off. She was doomed to be a jeans and t-shirt kind of girl. Jasmine flashed Winter a grin as she slid in breathlessly next to her. Hey, slow poke. Sorry, Jas. Were gonna be late arent we? So what if we are? Whats Sorensen gonna do? she said, gunning the engine and steering them onto the road. Put us on detention? Being in the car with Jasmine, amongst all the empty lip balm containers and crumpled chip packets, Winter felt her mood lighten. Jasmine had that effect on her. With her irreverent, mischievous personality, she was a ray of light breaking through the gloominess of Winters days. It was easier for Winter to mimic the girl she used to be when she was around Jas. That girl who could joke and laugh and tease. Nice headband. I have to admit though, Im a little surprised, Winter said, shaking her head in mock disapproval. Jasmine turned down whatever terrible pop music she was listening to. Surprised at what? I was expecting something a little more dramatic for today. No eyebrow ring, no pink hair. Is this the new Jasmine? Should I be worried? For their entire school life Jasmine had skated dangerously close to what the teachers considered unacceptable student wear. A natural non-conformist, Jasmine didnt rebel through drink or drugs but in fashion, which seemed almost worse to the authority figures as it was thrust into their faces on a daily basis and there was nothing they could do about it. Winter had anticipated that today of all days Jasmine would have made some kind of defining statement to sum up her last twelve years at school. Maybe shave her head or get some tribal tattoo on her face. Well I was thinking of showing up in a studded leather bikini but figured it would be hidden by the graduation gown anyway so why bother? Jasmine said nonchalantly. After a moments pause she added, a trace of guilt in her voice,

Actually I was going to run a green rinse through my hair last night but all of a sudden I got this image of me as a forty-year-old looking through my yearbook with my kid and trying to explain to them why mummy was the only girl who looked like a troll doll in the graduation picture. Noting Winters amused expression, Jasmine sighed dramatically. Yes, I know. Im a big sell-out. All talk, no action. Blah, blah, blah. Go on say something, I deserve it. Winter shrugged innocently, and turned to watch the houses roll by. One of the garages stood open, the owners having forgotten to close it after leaving for work or for school. Winter fought against the memory before it surfaced, but it was too late. She was back in Blakes truck driving madly through the rain as the Skivers glided after them. Blake was telling her to look for somewhere dark, somewhere the light of day couldnt penetrate. The Skivers were going to catch them unless he could find this place and spirit them away to the Dead Lands, a trick he could only manage in darkness. Hed spotted the open garage as they turned into the street, bringing his truck to a screeching halt. Throwing open the doors, Blake had yelled, Run! and then . . . Win? Jasmines voice snapped her out of her anxious reverie. She looked over and saw her friend frowning. Did you hear a word I just said? Winter nodded quickly. Of course. So do you want to go to Kelly Daviss house before the beach party or just go straight to the party? Oh. Jasmine had been running through tonights options. I dont mind. Whatever you want to do. Jasmines frown deepened. Everything okay? Are you actually in this car with me or did I leave you back at the house? Winter sighed and forced the brightest smile she could muster. Im sorry, I was just . . . Bad dreams again? Jasmine offered, her voice softening. Winter was going to deny it, but there was no hiding her feelings from Jasmines perceptive stare. Shed been there the night Blake had died and was the only one who

knew the truth. Yeah, she admitted quietly. Jasmine nodded sadly, returning her attention to the road. Winter hated seeing her friends carefree features shadowed by such an expression. She quickly added, Its fine. Theyre just dreams. Without looking at her Jasmine said, You need to stop torturing yourself, Win. Stop torturing us, Winter suspected was the true sentiment behind the words but didnt say anything. She knew she hadnt been easy to be friends with these past three months morose, brooding, clinging to her melancholy like it was her favourite perfume. In fact if she were to be honest she probably hadnt been the best company for longer than that. Since her parents funeral anyway. Tell me more about the party tonight, she said, pushing all her angst and concern deep inside. Jasmines furrowed brow took a moment to smooth completely but soon she was talking happily about the strapless top shed bought for the occasion and the possible hook-ups she foresaw taking place down on the beach. That was good. Winter smiled and nodded in the appropriate places and that was good too. Shed learnt to hide her pain well, having had extensive practice with Lucy. Anybody eavesdropping on their conversation as they drove through Trinitys school gates would have been convinced they were just a couple of teenage girls, discussing the usual boys and parties. Nothing strange about that. A close observer might see the clouded expression in Winters eyes, but considering the banality of their conversation would probably assume it was nothing more serious than a bit of boy trouble. Sadly, Winter supposed thats all it really was when you came right down to it. A bit of boy trouble.

Chapter 4

The morning was spent preparing for the graduation ceremony. Separated into their home classes, the students first stop on the graduation express was with Mrs Loramy. The Religious Studies teacher spent an excessive amount of time taking them through the process as though walking up to a podium, shaking hands with the principal, taking a piece of paper and smiling for a photographer was a complicated piece of choreography. After they finished with Mrs Loramy they were then herded into the cafeteria, which had been transformed into a makeshift wardrobe department. There were boxes of black graduation gowns and caps stored hygienically in plastic bags labelled either Large or Small. There was no medium, and those on either extreme of the range Anthony Hilkejmeyers gown barely reached his middle thigh, and Josie Bells pooled around her feet like an oil spill were out of luck. Fortunately, a Small suited Winter just fine and after slipping the soft black fabric over her head she went outside to find her seat. The ceremony was to take place in the quadrangle with the multi-purpose hall serving as an alternative location should the weather turn nasty, a prospect that was looking more and more likely, Winter thought, staring up at the grey skies as she made her way to the seating area. There were

about twenty rows of chairs leading back from a small stage where a wooden lectern and microphone stood. The first five rows were reserved for students, the rest for teachers and parents. A dark green banner hung from the lectern emblazoned with Trinitys credo in flowing gold script, Suma Tentabo . Strive for Excellence. Next to the stage stood a three-tiered platform where the graduation class would have their photograph taken once the last diploma had been awarded. A little daunted by the sea of chairs, Winter was relieved to see someone had gone to the effort of printing out the graduation names on tiny tent cards so finding where she was supposed to sit was easy. There it was in the front row Winter Adams. Right between Samantha Abercrombie and Jules Ballard. Jules was already there, chatting to Alice Brager (who, as usual, was wearing far too much make-up thick orange foundation and heavy mascara), however, there was no sign of Samantha. Presumably her homeroom class hadnt made it to the cafeteria for gown selection yet. Before taking her seat, Winter paused, shielding her eyes from the overcast skys glare to see if Lucy had arrived yet. She couldnt see Lucy anywhere, but there was still at least half an hour before the ceremony was scheduled to begin so there was plenty of time. Hey, Win, you excited or what? Jules asked, breaking off his conversation with Alice, who looked a little put out to be ignored in favour of Winter. She shot Winter an irritated glance and took out her phone to play with. Pretty excited, Winter replied, doing her best to mirror his enthusiasm. He was a nice guy, always willing to chat to Winter when they passed in the hallway despite the fact that Winter ranked considerably lower on the social ladder than he did. Can you believe we actually made it? I keep thinking Im gonna wake up and itll be the beginning of the year. It doesnt feel real, you know? Like its a dream. Winter nodded. I get that. It wasnt a lie either. The whole thing felt unreal. She just couldnt believe this was the last day shed ever have to spend at school.

You picked your college yet? Jules asked her. Winter could just make out the tan blotches of the pimple cover-up smeared on his chin. The box might have said skin tone but Winter had never met anyone whose skin matched the colour cooked up by the geniuses at the cosmetics company. She realised she was staring at his chin and quickly looked away, replying, Im not sure Im even going. This answer appeared to floor Jules. Youre kidding right? What are you going to do then? Not stay here? The way he phrased this last bit suggested staying in Hagans Bluff was some kind of prison sentence. Winter might not have had any plans but she had no intention of staying in Hagans Bluff any longer than she had to. Not with so many memories and bad dreams connected to the town. She shook her head firmly. No, Im not staying here. A cold wind began to blow and she was grateful shed kept her jacket on beneath the gown. The buzz of people talking grew steadily louder as more students emptied out into the quadrangle. They roamed the aisles searching for their name tags, stopping to wave at their parents seated at the back. Samantha Abercrombie was in one of the final groups released. Sitting down next to Winter, she said, Im so nervous! and Winter had to restrain herself from asking why. All they had to do was sit here, wait for their name to be read out and then go up to accept their diploma. It wasnt like they even had to say anything. Just walk up to the podium, smile for the camera, and sit back down again. Hardly rocket science. Once the last of the students had found their seats, Principal Sorensen walked to the centre of the stage and tapped the microphone experimentally. Winter had always been slightly terrified of Sorensen. While the ex-nun had wielded her authority benevolently she never went out of her way to be cruel there was something about her stiff aspect, her severe features, that intimidated Winter. Good afternoon everyone, Sorensen said, her voice booming through the speakers on either side of the platform, accompanied by a brief whine of feedback. It looks like were going to have to get the ceremony started or risk getting wet. If it should start raining please move in

an orderly fashion into the hall where we will continue. Winter looked up and saw that the cloud cover had thickened considerably. Theyd be lucky to make it through the ceremony dry. Sorensen cleared her throat. Weve gathered here today to witness the closing of a chapter. Life is marked with a few signposts along the way . . . Winter allowed herself to zone out, uninterested in Sorensens mixed metaphors. She twisted around in her seat to try to see Lucy. Unfortunately, due to the angle of her seat she could only make out the first two rows of the parents section. An image of her parents sitting with all the others popped into her head. She could see her dad with his black curly hair smiling proudly. She could see her mum wearing bright red lipstick, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue and laughing at her own tears. The image hurt, but made Winter smile just the same. Sorensen drew to the end of her speech some pap about a new chapter was ready to be written she wondered if Sorensen trotted out the same speech every year and then the school band played a brief interlude while the photographer set up his camera at the base of the stage. When hed finished positioning his tripod he gave Sorensen the thumbs up. Sorensen lent into the microphone and said, Id like to welcome Mr Lorimer to the stage to read out the list of graduating students. While Sorensen took her position to hand out the diplomas, Mr Woodley approached the podium a little nervously. He was wearing a corn yellow tie and had combed his hair painstakingly to the left to cover his receding hairline. This is it! Samantha said next to her, surprising Winter by grabbing her hand and giving it an excited squeeze. Mr Lorimer lent forward into the microphone, cleared his throat and said, Samantha Abercrombie. Samantha gave a little yelp and jumped up off her seat as though shed just been awarded the best actress award at the Oscars. She walked quickly up to the stage and shook Sorensens hand, smiled dazzlingly for the camera,

there was a brief round of applause, and then she walked down to the platform. Winter was just thinking what a lonely figure Samantha looked standing on the back row all by herself when she heard Mr Lorimer call another name. Winter Adams.

Chapter 5

Winter stood up, feeling that strange unreality again, and walked up to the stage. Mrs Sorensen smiled at her, the first time Winter could remember her smiling in fact, and as she handed the diploma over said, Congratulations, Winter. She said something else, that was almost drowned out by the assemblys applause, something that Winter only registered after she had her photograph taken and went to join Samantha on the platform.

Im proud of you.
Maybe shed had Sorensen wrong all these years? Her principal had taken on almost mythic proportions in Winters head as a figure of menace. A gatekeeper who had the power to rob Winter of her future, or at the very least an afternoon (more than once she had been forced to while away the hours in the school library as punishment for being late with an assignment). Standing next to the beaming Samantha, it occurred to Winter for the first time that her principal wasnt some kind of emotionless robot. That maybe she was a human being and had noticed just how hard this year had been for Winter. Still a little mystified, she smiled to herself and looked out into the audience. Where was Lucy? She might not care much about the ceremony itself but seeing all those rows of parents wearing expectantly proud expressions made her

feel a little pensive that there was nobody out there for her. She sighed in relief when she picked out Lucys face towards the back. Although she was too far away for Winter to be certain, it looked like she was crying. Typical Lucy, crying at the drop of a hat. Winter was thinking how embarrassing her sister was when she felt her own eyes beginning to burn. No! She wasnt going to cry. It was simply too corny. She swallowed the lump in her throat and quickly blinked the tears back. Her sister continued to weep gently, and Winters heart softened. Lucy needed a hug, luckily it looked like somebody had already volunteered for the job. Sitting next to Lucy was Dominic. He was dressed in a plain white shirt and brown tie, and wearing black-rimmed glasses. Winter watched as he reached around and gave Lucy a comforting squeeze with one hand while offering her a tissue with the other. Guys like Dominic always carried tissues around in their pockets. There was another round of applause as Jules had his photo taken with Sorensen and began to make his way towards Winter and Samantha. He winked at them as he strode up to take his place, but Winter barely noticed the gesture. Two young men were standing on the edge of the quadrangle in the shade of the large oak tree. One was slightly taller than the other with neatly cut dark hair and dressed in an expensive-looking charcoal suit, an eyecatching crimson-collared shirt beneath. The other was dressed in a tailored leather jacket, its colour a deep burgundy complementing the shirt of his friend. Friend? The two of them could have been brothers. They shared the same fine features, jet-black hair and slender build. Both were wearing dark sunglasses that hid their eyes. Both seemed to be looking directly at Winter. The one in the leather jacket now smirked in a very creepy way, as if he was pleased that shed seen him. A knot began to form in her gut something about those two wasnt right. But before she could explore this she was distracted by a cold drop of water splashing down onto the back of her neck. This was followed by the soft

patter of more drops as they sprinkled the shoulders of her gown, and bounced off the top of her cap. The pattering increased in tempo as Sorensen ran to the microphone and said, Well folks, it looks like the weather isnt going to hold. If everybody could please stand and make their way

BOOM!
Her voice was drowned out by an apocalyptic thunderclap. Almost immediately the rain transformed from a light drizzle to a stinging downpour, causing pandemonium in the quadrangle. Chairs were overturned, people shoved roughly out of the way as students and parents alike scrambled for cover. Both Samantha and Jules ran towards the hall, but before Winter joined them, she shot a look back towards the oak tree. The two strange men had disappeared. The ceremony was completed in the hall, which wasnt quite big enough to accommodate everyone so some of the parents were forced to huddle outside beneath umbrellas and watch through the glass. Some of the students, girls mainly, lobbied for enough time to neaten their appearance before having to have their photograph taken. Even so, Winter suspected there would be numerous graduation portraits marred by blotchy make-up and damp hair. All in all it wasnt the most promising start to this new chapter in their lives. Almost on cue the rain stopped the moment the final photograph was taken, and the students and parents filed back out into the quadrangle to mingle. Winter found Lucy standing near the tree where shed spotted the two young men. Evidently, her sister hadnt made it under cover in time as the top of her uniform was completely drenched. Im so proud of you, Winnie! she said, pulling her into a tight embrace and leaving wet marks on the front of Winters graduation robe. Its no big deal, she replied, her cheeks a little flushed. Lucy quickly blinked back her tears and shook her

head. Fine, play it cool. Ill be excited for both of us. Dominic was hovering a few steps away from Lucy, as though waiting for the polite time to make his presence known. Winter caught his eye. Hi, Dominic. Thanks for coming. He leapt forward and awkwardly shook her hand. Congratulations, Winter. I hope I didnt overstep any bounds in coming today. Your sister said it would be fine. Of course its fine, Winter glanced briefly at Lucy, her eyebrows raised ever so slightly. The glance was enough to make her sisters cheeks colour a satisfactory crimson shade. Jasmine bounded over to them at that moment. Hey, Luce. Her gaze flitted to Dominic. Hey . . . guy I dont know. Grinning, she stuck out her hand for Dominic to shake. The poor guy seemed a little flustered by Jasmines cheekiness, but recovered quickly enough to shake her hand. Dominic Westlake. Congratulations. Thank you, Dominic. Jasmine beamed at him, enjoying the effect she was having on this tightly buttonedup man. She shot Winter a mischievous look before giving Lucy a quick hug. Im very proud of you both, Lucy said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. I know. Were awesome, Jasmine replied. Apparently satisfied that Winter was in safe hands, Lucy made a move to leave. Well, wed better be getting back to work. I might be home late tonight. Hot date, huh? Jasmine asked. Trying not to smile, Lucy ignored her. Can you manage dinner on your own? Before Winter could answer, Jasmine said, Oh dont worry. Well be far too wasted to care about food. Seeing the colour drain out of Lucys face, she rushed to add, Kidding. Theres a barbecue down at the beach. Lucy didnt seem entirely convinced there was no foul play at hand. The beach? Yeah . . . didnt Win tell you? The graduation party is at Lighthouse Beach tonight. Her gaze leapt between the two

sisters, trying to gauge whether or not shed misspoken. Both of Lucys eyebrows shot up like they were trying to leap off her forehead. Beach party? Winter saw her sister momentarily threaten to morph back into the painfully over-protective figure who had haunted her for the past year. Okay. I guess. Have fun. Safe, responsible fun, she added. Dont worry, Ill look after her. Jasmine hooked an arm around Winter, pulling her off balance. Lucy smiled shakily and then joined Dominic on the way to the carpark. Once they were out of earshot, Jasmine said, That was the coolest Ive ever seen your sister. Tell me about it. Its amazing how a healthy sex life can improve someones personality. Winter punched Jasmine in the arm. Gross. Laughing, Jasmine linked arms with her and led her towards the carpark. Cmon lets get the hell out of this place. As they made their way out of Trinitys gates for the last time, Winter found herself looking for the two men shed spied. There was every chance they were simply the older siblings of one of her classmates. Or maybe cousins, or boyfriends. She didnt think they were locals though. Their clothes were far too stylish for Hagans Bluff, where jeans and a long-sleeved shirt might be considered overdressed. The more she thought about the two strangers, the stronger her intuition tingled with the vague threat of danger. Jumping at shadows, Lucy might call it, but Winter had learnt that there were some very good reasons to jump at shadows.

Chapter 6

By the time the sun passed behind Owl Mountain, leaving the sky a murky pink colour, Lighthouse Beach was heaving with laughing, drinking and dancing teenagers. An impressive bonfire had been started just down from the dunes, fuelled by driftwood, scrunched-up newspaper, cardboard boxes and gasoline. Winter sat on one of the crates watching the flames throw up golden sparks against the heavens. Any other night and the police would have been down here to put an end to the bonfire, not to mention the drinking, but this being graduation night the town at large tended to turn a blind eye. Jasmine was standing with some of the girls from her swimming team, talking to Michelle Underland, the topic of their conversation apparently Jules, who remained oblivious to the attention. He was hunched over a beatenup acoustic guitar, strumming (poorly) a Jack Johnson song, rolling his eyes at his friends while they unpacked a variety of colourfully packaged fireworks. Good evening, Winter, a thin, reedy voice said next to her. Winter turned and saw Harry Francis take a seat on one of the crates next to her. Hi, Harry, hows things? As well as can be expected, he said somewhat sullenly. I spent three years building up the Trinity Times .

Three years of sacrificing lunchbreaks, free periods and weekends crafting something special, something that went beyond your usual run-of-the-mill school newspaper. Something people actually wanted to read. And now . . . he trailed off staring at the leaping flames. Its finished? Winter offered when he seemed to sink deeper into his own morose thoughts. Seeing his watery, bloodshot eyes she guessed he was a little drunk. Well and truly finished, he said, waving his hand dramatically. Yep, Harry Francis Mr Straighty One-Eighty himself was off his face. I offered to stay on, you know. But Sorensen wouldnt have me. She said Nick Fitzpatrick was going to be running the paper. That nerdy little kid I betchya he doesnt know the first thing about journalism. Winter had to force herself not to smile at Harrys sneering condemnation of Nick as being nerdy. Like Harry was the epitome of cool and popular. Arent you going to college? Cant afford it. Not next year anyway. Looks like Ill be working at the bookstore with dad. The Book Kitchen, owned and operated by Harrys father, was located around the corner from Maple Boulevard. It was a cute little establishment that traded in coffees, croissants, and second-hand books. Winter went there with Jasmine every now and again, and enjoyed drinking coffee surrounded by all those old books. I should burn the school down. Let Sorensen deal with that. Dont say that, Harry. Im only joking, he mumbled. He lent closer to Winter, his rank breath making her wince. Maybe old Sammy will swing through town again and do it for me? I heard they havent caught him yet. A nerve twanged inside her as Harry accidentally poked a sensitive area. After the fire on Owl Mountain, Sam Bennet had disappeared. At the moment, he was considered a prime suspect not only in the arson but also in the murder of his father and brothers, as well as Blake and Claudette.

You know I never liked that guy. I had a feeling he was a psycho the first time I saw him. Dead eyes. Sams not a psycho. Winter flashed upon Sams tearful face as he looked up at her while cradling his fathers dead body in his hands. What do I do now? hed asked her pathetically and Winter hadnt had an answer for him then, nor would she have one for him now. Really? I would have thought killing your brothers and a couple of other people qualified you for psycho status. Between you and me I think he was into some sick stuff. Satanic kind of stuff, you know? Abandoned church, dead bodies, fire it all paints a pretty clear picture. His whole family was probably part of a sect or cult. Those two unidentified bodies were probably sacrifices. He grinned ghoulishly at Winter, barely able to restrain his glee. Do you know I heard they found one of them with the head cut off! Can you believe it! Awesome, huh? Winter was not enjoying this conversation. Sams a psycho? You should get some help. Serious help. Harry scoffed at her evaluation, his gaze drifting down to her chest. Not only was the creep making light of the worst experience in her entire life, now he was ogling her! It was all she could do to stop herself from slapping him. Take a picture, she said through gritted teeth. Harry ignored her, his gaze fixated on the same spot. She suddenly felt a burning sensation against her skin, as if one of the stray embers from the fire had found its way down her top. What is that? Harry said, his glasses reflecting a strange green light. Winter glanced down and saw the lodestone pulsing brightly through her white shirt. Astonished, but still selfaware enough to realise that whatever was happening should probably best occur in private, she stood up quickly, awkwardly covering the light with her hand. Its nothing, she said, stumbling backwards away from Harry and the bonfire. Her pulse raced even while Blakes necklace was starting to really hurt her. What was happening? The lodestone had never done this before. She needed to get away from all these people to find out what

was happening. Wincing as the lodestone burned even hotter, she made it a few steps down towards the waters edge before the pain grew too much. Gasping in agony, Winter fell to her knees and tore the necklace from around her neck. Holding the glowing lodestone at arms length, her eyes widened as she watched its light intensify. A star hung from her hand. A burning, emerald star that reached out towards her with fingers of fire, drawing her in.

Chapter 7

Winter was standing in a circular chamber surrounded by hundreds of flickering candles. The beach was gone. The dark skies, the waves, the sounds of the party all had vanished, replaced by shadowy stone walls, lit by the candles glow. Winter tried to raise her hand to her head and found she couldnt. It wouldnt respond. In fact, she couldnt feel her body at all. Before she had time to dwell on this alarming development, her gaze dropped down, completely independent of her will, and she saw a pair of dirt-stained masculine hands holding the lodestone. No . . . it wasnt her lodestone. Just as those hands were not her hands. Her thoughts struggled to accept what had happened. Somehow the power of the stone had transported her into the body of a stranger. She was seeing through anothers eyes. The scene in front of her lurched again, making Winter feel like a passenger trapped in a speeding car, and she was suddenly standing over a pool of dark water. The light of the candles shimmered along the surface, softly illuminating the pale reflection she saw there. If she had a mouth it would have fallen open in silent shock. The reflection in the water belonged to Blake! His hair had grown long, hanging down past his bare shoulders in twisted black strands; his face was painfully

gaunt and there was dried blood on his lips but it was Blake! Even in this wretched, emaciated aspect, the beauty of his features shone through. Now those features features shed held in her minds eye before drifting off to sleep every night since their first meeting darkened into an expression of confusion. His gaze narrowed as he searched his own eyes in the reflection, finding Winter hiding there behind the shining emerald irises. Who are you? he rasped, sounding like a much older man than the one she knew. The question challenged the numb state of astonishment shed slipped into, but it was his baffled, almost irritated expression that managed to shatter it completely. How could Blake not recognise her? Could the trauma she saw written across his body have damaged his mind? His eyes? It was his stone that had called her here. The stone hed given to her as a gift. Answer me, he commanded, but how could she with no mouth of her own? Somehow she had to make him understand, make him see her as he once had with love in his eyes, not this awful mistrust that cut her to the core. Before she could try, Winter saw something shift in the pools reflection. Somebody was standing behind him! Blake sensed the movement too. His frown faded and his eyes widened in fear. Wheeling dizzyingly around, he turned just as the terrifying figure loomed out of the darkness. Its face was all but hidden in the shadows of a voluminous red hood. Winter caught a glimpse of a sharply pointed chin and a cruel mouth twisted in a snarl before Blakes hoarse scream of No! rang out through the chamber and her view spun again as he was struck. The scarlet monk, for that is what he looked like in his crimson hood and robe, loomed over Blake with an iron staff in his hand. He raised it above his head in preparation to bring it down again on Blakes twitching body. All at once Winter felt a tingling sensation at the base of her skull and whatever was keeping her tied to Blake began to pull her backwards. Just as the monk brought the staff down, this awful image began to shrink, receding into darkness like it

was falling away from her. No, she was the one falling. Falling down a bottomless hole. Green fire crept in at her periphery, illuminating the darkness of the hole. There was a sound of rushing wind, growing louder and then . . . Winter lurched upwards off the sand, sucking in a deep breath as though shed just broken through the surface of water after nearly drowning. Startled by the quick movement, Harry Francis took a stumbling step backwards, nearly tripping in the sand. Geez, Winter, are you okay? he asked, regaining his balance. I saw you walk over here and pass out. I was about to do mouth-to-mouth, he added, unable to hide the faint trace of disappointment in his voice. Still struggling to find her breath, Winter could only stare at him blankly. Her thoughts were spinning madly, a jumble of confusion, excitement and fear. Something was digging into the palm of her left hand, hurting her. She opened her fist and saw the lodestone, now dull and lifeless, lying in her palm. A thin trickle of blood ran from the spot it had dug into her flesh. Winter? Harry came closer so he could see her face more clearly. What happened? Even if she was ready to speak, Winter wouldnt have been able to answer him. She didnt know how the lodestone had transported her consciousness to that dark, candlelit chamber or how shed returned to the beach. Even now her mind throbbed with trying to process everything that had happened, futilely trying to make sense of the impossible. Despite this, a single realisation managed to rise out of the chaos, seeding her heart with an unfamiliar emotion. Hope. Wheres . . . Jasmine? she finally managed to say between breaths. I dont know. I think I saw her talking with Glen Conroy down near the trees, he said, helping her up when Winters legs proved too wobbly to manage the task by themselves. Are you sure you dont want me to get you some water or something? You dont look well. She noticed his gaze flick to her chest and then to the bloody necklace grasped in her hand.

Winter forced a smile. Im fine. Too much beer. She hadnt drunk a single drop all night but was gambling on the fact that Harry didnt know this. She moved away from him before he could ask more questions. Thanks for looking after me, Harry. No problem, he said, still looking confused. She turned her back on him and went to find Jasmine. The light had all but faded from the sky so it took Winter a frustratingly long time to spot her passing a bottle to Glen down near where the sand met the first few scattered bushes of the bordering forest reserve. Winter had always been pretty sure Glen had a crush on Jasmine, most of the guys at school did, but Jasmine had never expressed interest in the tall, lanky basketball player so she didnt feel guilty about jumping between them. Jas, I need to talk to you. Jasmine took a second too long to react. Winnie! she said, her eyes a little unfocused. Great, Jasmine was drunk. You know Glen, right? Winter didnt acknowledge Glen. Jas, its important. Jasmine raised her eyebrows. Okay, okay no need to get all dramatic on me. She smiled at Glen over Winters shoulder. Back in a mo. Reluctantly she allowed Winter to drag her into the bushes. So, whats the big Blakes alive, Winter blurted out. Jasmine did a double-take, shaking her head slightly as if rejecting what shed just heard. What? I saw him. I mean I was him. I mean . . . Everything she wanted to say was struggling to leap out of her mouth at once. Somehow the lodestone . . . What are you talking about, Win? Winter took a breath, trying to form complete sentences in her mind before allowing them to leave her mouth. The lodestone started glowing and all of a sudden I was . . . somewhere else. The Dead Lands, maybe? And Blakes alive! But hes in trouble. There was this scary monk guy. And . . . She saw with frustration that Jasmine had stopped listening. Instead her friend sighed deeply. Winnie, youve

gotta stop this. She reached out and rested her hand on Winters shoulder. The gesture was supposed to be compassionate but only served to infuriate Winter. Youre not listening, Jas! Hes alive! Jasmine frowned, her voice losing some of its gentle tone. Hes dead, Win. No! I saw Stop it, would you! Jasmine yelled, shocking Winter into silence. I dont want to hear it. Not tonight. Why do you always have to do this? She seemed to realise shed been raising her voice, and made an effort to lower it. Cant you just let it go, for once? Wounded, Winter stared at her friend a moment longer before turning and walking deeper into the reserve, leaving Jasmine and the party behind. She was more frustrated than upset, but realised there was no point continuing the conversation. Not with Jasmine in her current state. Winnie! Jasmine called weakly after her, but she didnt stop and Jasmine didnt chase her. It was probably for the best. She needed to think the beach seemed almost too constrictive for the enormous feelings swelling within. Her step quickened. If she started running now, she imagined shed take flight and soar up to the moonlit clouds. Blake was alive!

Chapter 8

The sounds of the party faded behind Winter as the sand gave way to soil and the low bushes were joined by thickly clustered trees filtering the moonlight through their branches. If she kept walking, sooner or later shed reach the road, but for now she was content to wander aimlessly and allow her thoughts to catch up with her dizzying emotions. Her love lived! Hope flourished inside her like a rare flower she had never expected to bloom again but there were so many questions. Troubling questions she had no way of answering. Ahead of her in the middle of a clearing, Winter saw a large, twisted black shape. As she drew closer, the shape gained substance and detail it was the bottom half of a fallen tree. She made her way towards it and sat down, looking up at the stars and moon. Her hand stole to her pocket where shed hidden the lodestone from Harrys eyes. She took it out and held it cradled in her palm. The stone was silent and dark. No brilliant emerald light pulsed within. For all appearances, it was a simple piece of jewellery. Where are you? Winter said softly into the night, hoping the stone might reawaken and show her another glimpse of her love. The Skivers had killed Blake. They had harvested his

soul and returned with it to the Dead Lands. Blakes lifeless corpse had been crushed when the roof of the church had collapsed. Later his body had been charred to a cinder after Sam had set fire to Pilgrims Lament. Yet, the lodestone had shown him intact. Bloodied and wasted, but flesh and blood. It was impossible. It was true. But where was he now? The Dead Lands? Winter frowned, trying to recall the lodestones vision in more detail. There was no doubt in her mind that he was a prisoner of some kind. The stone chamber shed seen was a cell, the terrifying scarlet-robed monk his warden. Thinking about that shadowed hood looming out of the darkness, Winter shuddered. What was it? A Malfaerie? A hooded Skiver? Some other terrible thing? While she despaired over this a voice whispered in the back of her mind, He didnt know you. Recalling Blakes look of confusion, Winters despair deepened. Maybe whatever power had restored Blakes body had also affected his memory. Scrubbed free of all trace of Winter and his feelings for her. Considering this awful possibility didnt affect her resolve to save him. She could live with the pain of being a stranger to him if she knew he was alive and safe. It was a price worth paying. Mind if we join you? A cultivated English-accented voice said, making Winter jump. Twisting around, Winter was unnerved to see the two strangers from the graduation ceremony. What were they doing here in the middle of the forest? Um . . . actually I Winter stood to greet the men, but her words faltered. The dark silhouetted their tall, angular forms, making them look like living shadows. The sunglasses were gone, and their eyes shone unnaturally against the night sky. Emerald green. Quickly, Winter summoned the Sight, something about these two men triggering an alarm bell. Twin pairs of Occuluma ignited like match heads in the depths of their pupils, the flames an unearthly green shade. Winter recognised the colour. Blake had shared it. It was the colour of the immortals. Of the Dark Travellers the Demori. As astonishing as this revelation was, Winter had

no time to dwell on it as another certainty chased on its heels. These men had come to kill her.

Chapter 9

Allow me to introduce myself. Im 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 couldnt 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 didnt 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 wasnt feeling well, so I thought Id 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 Winters. Sorry to hear youre feeling under the weather. Maybe the excitement of the day has gotten to you?

Im 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 isnt 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 didnt 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. Blakes 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 Sidariss implication. All those tormented nights shed awakened in a cold sweat fumbling for Blakes 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 doesnt call, doesnt write. Frankly, were all a bit worried about him. Winters gaze jumped nervously back and forth between the two men. Hell be here soon. Any minute actually. Sidaris chuckled at that. Wonderful! I can see why he chose you. Youre 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. Im not lying. Blakes coming and wouldnt be happy with the way youre threatening me, she added, sounding as forbidding as she possibly could given the circumstances. Hush now. Benedict began to slowly walk around the driftwood. Id 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. Blakes not coming. Winter didnt bother protesting anymore, instead she desperately searched for an escape route. Shed 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. Juless friends had finally set off the fireworks. With Sidaris and Benedicts attention distracted by the commotion, Winter took off in a mad dash for the treeline. By the time she heard Sidariss 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 shed 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 couldnt 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 shed climbed high enough to make out the faint glow of the partys bonfire in the middle distance. She was much closer than shed 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, isnt 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 cant 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 didnt have long to live. Neither, it seemed, did she. It wouldnt be proper for me to continue without Benedict, Sidaris said, adopting an intimate tone. But now I have you all to myself Im suddenly feeling less generous. Winter gulped, trying to avoid looking at Sidariss eyes. I think y-you should wait for him, she stammered. Theres plenty of me to go round. I couldnt 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! Hes going to kill you! The voice inside her head screamed as Sidariss 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. Shed seen such a weapon before. In Pilgrims 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 couldnt believe what she was seeing. When shed left Sam outside the church on the mountain, Winter had been sure that was the last time shed 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 hed 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 weapons 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. Ive got this. Sidaris pulled himself into a crouch and sneered, Youve 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 dont take kindly to being interrupted when Im with a lady, he said, his eyes shining dangerously. Wheres 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 Sams considerable size, the Demori had the upper hand. Sam was going to lose this fight. Lying in the dirt a few feet away was Sams fallen crossbow. Winter ran and picked it up, aiming the heavy weapon with trembling hands at Sidariss back. Shed 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 doesnt belong, Sidaris said, grinning wickedly as he tightened his grip around Sams throat. Sams eyes bulged out of their sockets. His face started to turn purple. Winter took a few quick steps forward until she was sure she wouldnt miss, aimed the crossbow and with a silent prayer pressed the trigger. There wasnt 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. Dont open your eyes! Sam said, grunting as he

began to drag Sidariss body over the dirt. Wait until NO! The agonised cry rang out through the night, shocking Winters 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 Sams feet to Winter holding the crossbow. Slowly Benedicts 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 Sidariss corpse but it was Winter who seemed to be the main target of the Demoris rage. She watched him tense, preparing to fly at them, and then remembered the weapon. Raising it with trembling hands, she hoped Benedict wouldnt 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. Winters gaze anxiously searched the darkness. Shed lost the Sight during the battle and was too shaky to muster the concentration necessary to activate it now. Seconds passed and Benedict didnt 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 shed faked. Any moment now she might crumble to the ground. Sam reached over and gently took the

crossbow from her trembling grasp. I think hes gone. Youre sure? Winter asked, her eyes wide with fear. Yes. Anyway, he wont 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. Im 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. Sams gaze met hers again, and she didnt like the grim resolve she saw there. Not one bit. We need to bury the body.

Chapter 11

They dragged Sidaris (minus his head, which Sam quickly buried) towards the road, leaving a snaking track along the forest floor behind them. It was Winters job to try to cover this track, should anyone from the party come wandering into the reserve and stumble across it. Sam reasoned that he was already wanted for murder so it wouldnt matter much if someone saw him with a headless body, but Winter could do without the attention. Kicking leaves across to camouflage their progress, she listened to Sams quiet chatter and tried not to look at the bleeding corpse he was dragging. She felt sick and exhausted, able to function only because of the residual adrenaline coursing through her body. After that night . . . on the mountain, Sam said, his voice a little laboured with the physical strain of pulling the body. I tried to leave the country I have relatives in France who I hoped would take me in but when the police released my picture to the press it was impossible to travel. I managed to draw some money before my accounts were frozen, bought a car and just started driving. I drove halfway around the country, never staying in one place too long. Avoiding people as much as I could. You cant imagine what its like to feel like youre being chased constantly. To not be able to trust anyone.

You want me to feel sorry for you? Winter asked, her voice betraying just how upset and frightened she was. After everything you did? To Blake. To Jasmine. To me! Sam kept his eyes on Sidaris rather than look at her. No, I dont. I dont expect anything. It was impossible not to find some grim satisfaction in the fact that after hunting Blake with the Bane for so many years, Sam now found himself the hunted one, but there was such sad resignation in his tone that Winter felt guilty despite herself. After all, hed just saved her life. For the second time tonight she pictured Jasmine and the others back at the party, laughing and enjoying themselves, and felt a pang of envy that she was denied such beautifully ordinary happiness. Why did her life have to be so painful and complicated? I kept moving, he continued, still unable to meet her gaze. I had no destination, no direction. I just tried to survive without getting caught. Sams expression hardened. And then I read about the killings in the paper and knew what I had to do. He dropped Sidariss feet and turned around to see where they were. I dont think were far from the road. He was right. She could see the orange fluorescents glowing through the trees ahead. What now? I have a shovel in my car. You can wait here if you Winter was already moving towards him. Im not waiting by myself. As conflicted as she felt around Sam, his company was preferable to that of a headless corpse. Okay then. Follow me. An uneasy silence enveloped them as they passed through the forest. There was so much Winter wanted to say. Should she scream at him for the part hed played in Blakes death, or thank him for rescuing her? In the end, she decided it was safer to let him talk until she got a handle on her own confusing emotions. If nothing else it would satisfy her curiosity about where hed been for the past three months. You were saying about the killings? Right. He seemed eager for a chance to break the

silence. It wasnt a front-page article or anything. Just a column talking about a drifter found on the outskirts of Laurieton. The paper described his body as unmarked, no knife wounds or gunshots. No signs of strangulation. I called the coroners office pretending to be with the Sheriffs department to see if I could get more information. Something about the article just didnt feel right. Sure enough, the coroner told me that the body was found desiccated, shrunken. Like all the juice had been sucked out of it. The police were baffled. I wasnt. I drove to the town and picked up the trail of the Demori. I first came across the one back there, he nodded towards the spot theyd left Sidaris, in the Hopeland Country Fair. He was about to take a child a small girl but I stopped him. Ive been tracking him and his partner ever since. Benedict. His names Benedict. Winter shuddered at the image of the Demori staring at her, his eyes burning with hate. She couldnt help but shoot a nervous glance behind them, half expecting to see Benedict creeping up on them, his mouth gaping, teeth bared. They pushed through a tangle of waist-high bushes and stepped out on the gravel. A thick orange haze hung in the air, caused by the sea mist catching the glow from the fluorescents. The haze blurred everything more than a dozen or so feet away from her, lending an eerie, dreamlike cast to the area. She could just make out a green station wagon parked a little further up. Sams car. I didnt know there were others, Winter said as they made their way through the orange fog. I thought Blake and Claudette were the only Demori. Sam glanced in her direction, an eyebrow raised. He never told you about the others? No. Though the more she thought about it the more it stood to reason that there would be more. How many are there? They reached the car and Sam opened the back, slipping off his crossbow. She saw a rolled-up sleeping bag pushed behind the spare tyre and guessed that Sam had been sleeping in the car. We dont know. Blake and Claudette werent Arimans

first children. He took off his trenchcoat, revealing the sheathed machete strapped across his back, and bundled it inside next to the crossbow. He had others over the centuries and these Demori had their own children. There could be a thousand? A million? Luckily for us they dont play nicely with each other. Theyre loners by nature. Or at least that used to be the case. Lately, thereve been rumours of Demori gathering in large numbers. Forming some kind of army. Scary stuff, he continued, rummaging around in the dark of the car for a second before pulling out a shovel. Did I call them to me? Sidaris and Benedict. Was it my fault? she asked, already sure of the answer. Sam shot her a quick look and then slammed the car shut. Its nobodys fault. But, yes Id say you called them. Or the lodestone did. I didnt know it could . . . I There was the sound of an approaching car. Sam grabbed her, pulling her off the road into the shadows. The car materialised out of the fog, filling the night briefly with the sound of rocknroll before disappearing into the darkness. When he was satisfied no more cars were following, they continued their progress, Sam talking more softly than he had before, as though worried his voice might be heard. All Demori carry lodestones. Damien . . . She noticed his face tighten at the mention of his dead brother. Damien knew more about this stuff. Apparently, its like a right of passage or something. The first time they Travel to the Dead Lands theyre tasked with finding a stone. They cant return without it. Once they succeed they carry it for the rest of their lives, like a Catholic with a crucifix. Theyre not mere symbols though. The lodestones allow the Demori to stay in contact with each other. So they avoid clustering together, hunting in the same areas and risking drawing attention. They have other properties as well. We dont know all of them. He paused before adding, In any case you should get rid of yours. Benedict will be able to use it to locate you. Winter briefly considered telling him what had

happened tonight, the vision of Blake, but decided against it. I cant do that. Bemused, Sam glanced in her direction. Suit yourself. Im only trying to keep you alive. Youll have to forgive me if I have a little trouble trusting you. What with the whole kidnapping me and trying to kill Blake thing. Fair enough. She wanted him to say something else, to give her the chance to fight with him and vent some of her bottled anger. Instead, he turned and started back towards where theyd left the body, leaving her standing alone with clenched fists, frustrated and confused. It didnt take long to dig the grave. Feeling queasy, Winter helped as much as she could, using her hands to scoop away dirt while Sam dug with the shovel. They worked silently, both seemingly enjoying the distraction the digging provided. Once theyd reached the hard clay shelf a few feet below the surface Sam told her she could rest. She sat with her back to him, listening to the scraping of the shovel, and tried to come to terms with everything that had happened. Her body was weary but her mind still raced a million miles an hour, thinking about Blake and trying not to think about Benedict and Sidaris. Finished. She stood up and saw Sam smoothing the dirt over the grave with the back of his shovel. What do you think? he asked. What do you want me to say? You dig a beautiful grave, Sam. There was still a trace of sarcasm in her voice, but it was less harsh. She was too exhausted to hold onto her anger. I suppose we need to talk about what happens now, he said, ignoring her tone. About Benedict. You saw the way he looked. Looked at me, Winter corrected Sam in her mind. Yeah, he didnt look happy. Hell come for us. I doubt hes the forgive and forget type. Winters heart lurched in her chest. But you said hed

be too weak to try again tonight. Sam shrugged, swinging the shovel up onto his shoulder. I said that, but I dont know for sure. We need to form some kind of plan. Winter sighed miserably when would this ordeal end? Okay, but not here. She needed to get away from this spot. Away from the creaking trees and the darkness. Where then? Sam frowned. Im a wanted man, remember. Its not like I can take you out for milkshakes and burgers. Winter bit back the cutting remark that came to her lips and instead considered the options. There werent many to choose from. We can go to my house. My sisters out with her boyfriend tonight and wont be back for a couple of hours. Youre sure? Yeah. Sam considered this for a moment, and then nodded. Your house it is. They started off for Sams car, leaving the reserve and Sidariss grave behind them.

Chapter 12

There were no lights on as Sam pulled up in front of Winters house. The garage door was wide open, Lucys car gone. Sam parked on the opposite side of the street and sent Winter on ahead to make sure they would be alone. She didnt bother arguing with him, figuring that after three months of living on the run, he was entitled to be a little paranoid. She quickly crossed the driveway, feeling a little like a fugitive rushing across a prison courtyard trying to avoid the guards spotlight, and took the balcony steps to the front door. Using her key she stepped inside and called out, Hello? Lucy? Predictably there was no reply. Nefertem ambled out of the shadows and meowed a hello at her. Winter walked to the balcony railing and gave Sam the thumbs-up signal. She watched him step out of the car, retrieve a battered exercise bag, sling the crossbow over his shoulder and jog towards her. Nobodys home? he asked her when he reached the top of the stairs. Just me and my bodyguard, Winter said, picking up Nefertem. The cat stiffened in her arms as Sam approached, a low growl rumbling in the back of his throat. He doesnt like you.

Sam frowned at the cat as he passed. I dont like him either. Winter closed the door and followed him into the kitchen. Sam placed the duffle bag on the table, unzipped it, and withdrew two small clay oil burners. One was dark brown, the other a mottled blue colour. Both were bell shaped. What are you going to do with those? Winter asked as Sam set about lighting the tea lights inside the burners. Make the house safe, Sam answered, filling the dishes atop the burners with water from the tap. He then brought out a tiny vial of murky, purplish liquid from within his trenchcoat. This oil is made from elderflower, Sam continued, adding a few drops to the water. It should keep the Demori out. Almost immediately, the air became rich with the scent of the oil; the kitchen now smelt like a florists. Not at all unappealing, but certainly pungent. Should? Winter said, eyeing the burners sceptically. The tea lights flickered lemon yellow behind the grates, flames heating the oil and water mixtures. Nefertem leapt up onto the table and padded cautiously over to the brown burner. Snout wrinkling, he lent in to sniff the dish before skittering away, clearly offended by the aroma. Have faith, Sam said as he handed Winter the blue burner. Carry this through the house and leave it somewhere towards the back. The idea is to fill the house with the scent of elderflower. Confused but willing to do anything to feel safer, Winter took the burner and followed Sams instructions. After depositing the burner in the laundry at the back of the house, she returned to the kitchen to find Sam sitting at the table, tightening his crossbow mechanism. What do we do now? Winter asked, expecting him to propose another protective ritual. Perhaps get her to sit down with him and chant some kind of spell or mantra. Have you got anything to eat? Sam asked a little hesitantly. Winter arched an eyebrow. Youre serious? You want me to feed you? Forget it

She sighed in exasperation. Fine. Ill heat something up. She walked to the fridge to see what there was. Luckily, it had been her turn to cook the previous night, and she had made enough tuna pasta to last a few more meals. Dont go to any trouble for me, he said, as she carried the leftovers to the microwave. However, the way his eyes kept straying to the Tupperware container in her hands made her think he was just being polite. I wont. Looking at him in the clear light of the kitchen, Winter was able to see just how changed Sam was. The last time shed seen him he could have passed for a freshly recruited marine with his shaved head, broadly muscular frame and eager, confident demeanour. It wasnt just that his hair had grown out or that he hadnt shaved in what looked like weeks. His body shape had changed too. He was still tall and broad, but hed lost some of his previous bulk and appeared much more wiry. Not emaciated by any stretch of the imagination, but definitely thinner. His cheeks had a faint hollow look to them. Against her better judgement, she found herself feeling sorry for him. Placing the tuna in the microwave, she noticed the time. It was nearly eight. Lucy and Dominic would just be finishing up at the restaurant and getting ready to walk to the cinema. She and Sam had a few hours yet before hed have to make himself scarce. When you told me you werent going to throw the necklace away, Sam said, setting the crossbow on the table, I started thinking we might be able use it. The Demori are arrogant. They think theyre untouchable. This Benedict wont be expecting us to try to trap him. He paused as though having second thoughts about whatever it was he was about to propose. Go on, Winter urged, curious to see where this was heading. Tomorrow, once the sun sets youll use the stone. Use it to call Blake again. Benedict will hear the call and come for you. The difference is this time Ill be waiting for him. That doesnt sound like a very safe plan, Winter said, crossing her arms and frowning at him. Sam sighed and picked up the crossbow again. Its

not, and honestly, I wouldnt suggest it if I thought there was another way. Unfortunately, there isnt. Or Im not smart enough to come up with one. Besides, going on the offensive is a smarter play than . . . Than what? Sam took a moment to answer. Waiting for him to kill us. Oh, Winter said, swallowing nervously. We just need to pick a location, Sam continued, clearly not wanting to dwell on this possibility. Somewhere isolated . . . somewhere that wont tip Benedict off that hes being tricked. A place it would seem natural for you to call to Blake. Maybe here in the house? An idea occurred to her. A fitting location to spring Sams trap that wouldnt arouse Benedicts suspicion. She told him, and he jumped on the option immediately. Thats brilliant! Well meet there tomorrow. Six-thirty, just before sunset. Six-thirty it is. Winter nodded, feeling her stomach twist at the prospect of facing Benedict again. Sam was right though. If the only other alternative was to sit and wait for the Demori to pick them off then shed rather act. Even if the idea terrified her. As a vaguely uncomfortable silence settled over the kitchen, Winter debated whether or not to break it by telling Sam about Blake. Because of his occult background, he was probably the only person who might know what the lodestones vision meant. It wasnt something she could look up on Wikipedia. The problem was she still couldnt bring herself to trust Sam. Not yet, anyway. Caleb had raised his children to hate Blake would Sam even care if somehow Blake had cheated death? You can take that off if you like, she said, nodding towards his trenchcoat. Sam glanced down at the coat as though hed forgotten he was even wearing it. Right, he said, and somewhat reluctantly took it off, draping the coat over the back of the kitchen table chair nearest him. Winter wasnt shocked to see how thin he was, shed guessed that hed lost weight already. She was shocked at the blood staining the grey t-shirt he was

wearing underneath.

Chapter 13

It must have been too dark and her concentration too scattered while they were digging the grave for her to notice. His forearms and neck were also splashed with dried blood the colour of brown paint. Oh my God, Sam! Thats not your blood is it? Winter asked, appalled at the grisly sight. He looked like a butcher fresh from the slaughterhouse. No, Im pretty sure its not. He glanced down at himself with a slightly embarrassed expression, as though he was covered in dried tomato sauce and not a creatures viscera. You need to have a shower. Sam began to protest. Its fine . . . Ill just wash up at the sink. The last thing Winter wanted was for him to wash off the Demoris blood in the kitchen. No you wont. Follow me, Ill get you a towel and find you some clothes. His face still pink, Sam followed her into the hallway. She took one of the towels from the cupboard and gestured to the bathroom. You can get changed in there. Sam took the towel, and she was momentarily unnerved by the depth of gratitude she read in his grey-blue eyes. Thanks, Winter. No problem. She left him to strip off and went into

Lucys room, fishing around in the bottom of her drawers for something Sam could wear. Winter was pretty sure Lucy had an ex-boyfriends sweater in here somewhere . . . Found it! It was striped black and white, with a gold thirtythree on the back inscribed over the word Beanpole. Casey Beanpole Tompkins and Lucy had dated throughout most of her first year of college. Hed been to Hagans Bluff only once and Winter hadnt liked him much. He was too loud, too cocky, and she was glad Lucy had dumped him. Taking the sweater back into the hallway, she knocked on the bathroom door and waited for Sam to answer. Come in. Keeping her eyes on the tiles, Winter opened the door. She still managed to glimpse Sam in her periphery wearing nothing but the towel, and it was long enough to register his tanned, muscular torso in cheek-reddening detail. This should fit, she said, holding out the sweater and trying not to look at him. This was nearly an impossible task. Thanks again, Winter, this is . . . he paused, searching for the words to express himself . . . more than I expected from you. I mean, I-I dont he stammered, clearly worried shed mistake his gratitude for condescension. Dont mention it, Winter said, flashing him an awkward smile. He seemed unbothered, standing in her bathroom naked. Unfortunately, she was less comfortable. Feeling herself grow more flushed by the second, Winter backed out of the room. Ill go check on the food. Sam nodded, and she saw again that expression of sincere gratitude. Walking to the kitchen, she understood why he was so touched by her compassion. The last time theyd seen each other theyd been on opposite sides Winter with Blake, Sam with the Bane. Enemies. Despite this, she couldnt find any anger in her heart. Conflict and confusion, yes, but no anger. It was hard to hate someone who had just saved your life. The Sam who was standing naked in her bathroom wasnt the same boy who had pursued her to Pilgrims Lament. He was sadder, lonelier

an orphan. Just like her. The food was nearly ready, the clear plastic lid of the container rendered opaque with steam. She could hear the food inside sizzle and pop. Just before the microwave timer counted down to one she stopped the cycle, a habit shed picked up from Lucy who also hated the timers shrill tone, and using a tea towel shifted the Tupperware to the table. A plume of steam billowed out, carrying with it the smell of melted cheese, fish and tomatoes as she lifted the top. The table set, Winter took a seat and let out a deep sigh. Nefertem, who had been lurking beneath the kitchen table, leapt up onto her lap. While she stroked his soft ginger fur, she realised something was missing. She was tired, stressed and more than a little on edge with the prospect of Benedict lurking outside, but she wasnt sad. The darkness that had lurked at the periphery of her vision ever since losing Blake was gone. She couldnt stop a hopeful smile from twitching at the corners of her mouth. The sound of an engine humming as it came up the driveway chased the smile from her face. Lucy had come home early! Shooing Nefertem off her lap, Winter dashed into the hallway and beat loudly on the bathroom door. Sam? My sisters home! There was no reply from inside and the shower was still running. With the noise of the water Sam mustnt have been able to hear her. Winter knocked again, growing more panicked. Sams photograph had been trumpeted by all the media outlets, usually accompanied by a bold headline that said, WANTED FOR MURDER. If Lucy came home and found a naked boy in her bathroom shed be outraged if she came home and found a naked criminal in her bathroom there was no telling what shed do. Scream? Call the police? Attack Sam with a kitchen knife? Downstairs she could hear the garage door groan as it was pulled down, followed by voices. Great! Dominic was with her. The situation had just become more precarious. Sam you need to hide! she yelled through the door before remembering the crossbow and the other paraphernalia hed left in the kitchen the duffle bag, the

blood-splattered trenchcoat, the oil burner, the machete. She bounded down the hallway feeling a glimmer of relief when she heard the shower finally shut off. Hopefully, Sam was hiding himself. If he wasnt there was nothing she could do now. Listening keenly for her sisters approach they were coming up the stairs now! she rushed around the kitchen, haphazardly piling his belongings into the duffle bag. She stumbled quickly to her room, dumped the bag, and slammed the door just as Lucy and Dominic stepped into the hallway. Win, Lucy said, with a surprised expression. What are you doing here? I thought you had a party to go to. I did, she said, her heart hammering in her chest. Unable to come up with any other explanation on the fly, she added abruptly, It finished. Youre home early. She moved past them into the living room drawing their attention away from the bathroom at the end of the hall, which was mercifully silent. Sam must have heard them talking and wisely chosen to keep his presence unknown. The movie was sold out so instead, Dominic took me to get dessert at Milanos, Lucy said, following Winter into the living room and putting down her handbag. Dominic smiled at Winter over Lucys shoulder. Was the party fun? he asked politely. Lots of fun, Winter nodded a little too enthusiastically.

I saw a vision of my dead boyfriend and nearly got my soul sucked out by a monster it was a blast, Dom! Her
eyes flicked to the doorway and the hallway beyond. If she could just keep Dominic and Lucy occupied then maybe Sam would be able to sneak out of the bathroom and make it to her bedroom without being caught. Lucy frowned at her. Is everything okay? Youre acting . . . funny. Winter forced an innocent smile. Im fine. Absolutely fine. She sat down on the couch and attempted to appear nonchalant. Im good, she added for emphasis. Lucys frown deepened. Have you been drinking? Winter was genuinely shocked by the accusation. Of course not. Im under-age. Lucys right eyebrow shot up but she didnt say

anything. If Dominic wasnt here, Winter doubted she would have been able to restrain herself from pursuing this line of questioning. Lucy began to move back towards the hallway. Where are you going? Winter demanded. Lucy paused in the doorway. To the bathroom. If thats okay with you? Shaking her head in bemusement, she left Dominic and Winter alone. Dominic appeared a little uncomfortable without Lucy as a buffer. So, youre graduated. You must be over the moon. Winter didnt answer him at first. She was listening for Lucys scream upon discovering Sam. When it didnt happen she allowed herself a moment of relief. Um, sorry? She remembered Dominics question and continued distractedly, Yes, totally over the moon. It feels great. There was nothing at all in her tone that indicated this was the truth. Your sister told me youre thinking of applying for a marketing degree at Newington. My cousin went there. Its a good school. Winter shrugged, her eyes on the doorway. She was thinking of no such thing. Even if she went to university she doubted shed study marketing. Marketing was Lucys goal for her but none of this seemed important right now. Why was Lucy taking so long? Maybe Sam had deployed some of his Bane training and knocked Lucy out. If so, then this situation was about to get even more stressful. Would he deal with Dominic next? Then what? Would she have to run away with him? Two fugitives on the road. She heard the toilet flush, followed by the tap running as Lucy washed her hands. Winter released the breath shed been holding. There were footsteps in the hallway and Lucy reappeared. She didnt look happy. Can you remember to put the fan on next time you have a shower? Its like a Russian bathhouse in there. Winter was too stumped by her lucky escape to answer straightaway. Of-of course, no problem, she stammered, a grin spreading across her face. I guess I

forgot. Lucy frowned at her grin, but let it pass without comment, instead asking Dominic, Can I make you a tea or coffee? That would be great. Id love a tea. What about you, Win? Tea? The question was innocent, however her eyes regarded Winter suspiciously. I smell a rat, missy, they seemed to say. What are you trying to hide? Again, Winter was silently grateful for Dominics presence. She didnt think shed hold up under one of Lucys interrogation sessions with her nerves in their currently frayed state. Sure, Winter said, trying to clear her gaze of any emotion that might hint at her anxiety. Where was Sam? Lucy left Dominic and Winter alone again as she walked into the kitchen. I probably shouldnt be drinking tea this late, but I guess tomorrows the weekend. Dominic smiled a little uncertainly and Winter felt a pang of guilt for treating him so rudely. The poor guy probably thought she hated him. Why not live a little, right? Winter said with a friendly shrug, trying to make up for her odd behaviour. Absolutely. I should have asked for coffee. Dont go crazy now. Dominic laughed at that, his laughter cut short by Lucys voice bellowing from the kitchen.

Winter!
Both of them were startled by the volume and outraged tone, their faces sharing similar perplexed expressions as Lucy stormed back into the room holding two plates in her hands. Whats going on? The tables set for two people. Is someone here? Winter had completely forgotten about the dishes. Shed been in too much of a mad hurry clearing up Sams detritus to pack away the dinnerware and the food. Of course not! she said, trying to sound indignant. Her mind strained to come up with a plausible excuse. I mean Jasmine and I were going to have some dinner. But . . . she just left. Before you got here.

Lucys gaze narrowed. Winter Adams if you have a boy here I want to know about it! Lucy, I Winter panicked at the prospect of Lucy pulling the house apart and stumbling across Sam. She couldnt lie anymore, her mind was completely blank. I think youre being a little paranoid, Luce. She said her friend just left, Dominic said to Lucy with a vaguely reproachful expression. He stood up and whispered something into her ear. Something that sounded very much like, Give the kid a break. Lucys gaze flicked to Dominic in question. He nodded in encouragement, and she let out an exasperated sigh before glancing back at Winter, her eyes not entirely free of their accusatory expression. Sorry, Win. I didnt mean to put you on the stand. Its okay, Winter said, amazed at Dominics heroic intercession. Ill help you make the tea, he said, putting his arm around Lucy and guiding her to the kitchen. Before they left the room, he half turned and winked at Winter. Winter shot him a grateful look back. It seemed shed sold Dominic a little short. Hearing the sound of teacups clinking in the kitchen Winter stealthily crept into the hallway towards her room. Sams clothes and weapons were still on the floor where shed dumped them. Sam? she whispered into the empty room. No reply came. She got down onto her knees and checked under the bed in case hed slid under there at the sound of Lucys approach. Nope, there were just a few stray socks and her clarinet case covered in dust. Frowning, she stood up and went back into the hallway. Maybe hed jumped out of the window? The idea of him skittering down the side of the house in just a towel was almost comical, an image straight out of the old British comedies her dad had loved. Winter was just about to check the bathroom when she noticed the hallway cupboard was slightly ajar. She went and opened it slowly revealing a wet and shivering halfnaked Sam. Winter averted her eyes from his glistening

torso. Is it safe? he whispered through chattering teeth.

Chapter 14

Blushing madly, Winter led Sam quickly to her room, making it back into the living room just as Lucy and Dominic were returning with the tea. The three of them sat and talked pleasantly for the next fifteen minutes or so Winter was able to hold up her end of the conversation without too much difficulty now that Sam was safely hidden. Lucy seemed visibly delighted that Winter and Dominic were getting along so well. Of course she didnt know it was because they shared something of a conspirators bond. Winter still wondered why Dominic had chosen to bail her out. Perhaps it was an effort to win her over? If this was the case, then Dominic could consider her well and truly won over. Now, if he could just keep Lucy occupied while Winter smuggled Sam out of the house then . . . How about we let Winter get some sleep? Its been a big day, he said during a lull in the conversation. Winter could have hugged him. The man was psychic. Lucy looked over at him and read the look in his eyes. It said quite plainly, Its time for us to be alone. Um . . . sure, she said, and Winter saw her sisters cheeks turn pink. It had been a long time since Lucy had had a guy stay over. Smiling shyly at Dominic, she glanced over at Winter.

Are you tired? Oh yeah, Winter said, trying to muster up a fake yawn. Bone tired. Okay then, well leave you to it. They both stood up and moved towards the hallway. Goodnight, Winter said, smiling supportively at her sister. Night, Dominic. He smiled at her, and they shared a brief moment of eye contact that cemented her feelings for him. Lucy was in safe hands. Before they left, her sister paused in the doorway and asked, Have you been burning incense or something? Theres a funny smell in the air. Um . . . no. Shed grown accustomed to the elderflower, but it was still there, smelling as strongly as ever. A slight crease appeared in Lucys forehead. Weird. That look of suspicion crept back into her eyes, but Dominic was already pulling her gently away. Before she disappeared down the hallway, she said to Winter, Turn off the lights before you go to bed. And open a window. Winter sighed in relief, marvelling that shed made it through the ordeal. It had been a close call. She stood and with Nefertem trailing in her wake, made her way through the house flicking off switches (she made sure the windows were shut and bolted). As she headed for her bedroom, the image of Sams muscular body, slick with the water and pink from the heat, floated near the forefront of her mind. She had to pause a moment before opening the door to compose herself. Her cheeks were feeling unusually hot. Sam had hidden himself in the corner so he wasnt visible until shed stepped into the room. She saw with relief that he was fully dressed now, having squeezed into Beanpoles sweater, which hugged his chest and arms tightly. That was close, she said, keeping her tone low just in case their voices carried. Nodding, Sam let out the breath hed been holding. Is your sister ? In her room, Winter finished for him. Its safe for you

to leave now. Sam picked up his crossbow and slung it around his back. Ill stay in your backyard tonight. In the shadows out of sight. The elderflower should keep Benedict away but if something happens, if he manages to get in somehow, I want you to signal me. He pulled a torch with a thick rubber handle, the kind police officers carried, out of his duffle bag and gave it to her. Just flick it on if theres trouble. So youre going to spend all night outside? When will you sleep? He smiled reassuringly. Dont worry about me. But what if Benedict He wont. Seeing that she was far from convinced, he glanced around her room then walked over and picked up a red scarf from the few she had hanging from a hook next to her wardrobe. Ill tie this around one of the tree branches outside before I go in the morning, so youll know Im alive and well. Winter was still unsure of this plan. She didnt like the idea of Sam outside in the dark alone all night but she couldnt very well let him stay in the house with Lucy and Dominic around. Dont forget, she said, pointing at the scarf for emphasis. Theres something else, Sam said, his expression growing curiously bashful. He knelt over his duffle bag again and rummaged around inside before withdrawing a book; a weathered, leather-bound journal that looked oddly familiar. It took a second or two to remember where shed seen it before the Velasco Place. When shed gone to the house to drop off the jacket Blake had left with her, shed come across a box full of such journals. Blakes diaries. Is that she asked, her pulse racing. Shed been sure all the journals had been destroyed in the fire lit by Sam and his brothers, the fire that had claimed the Velasco Place. Yes, Sam said, handing it to her. I stole it from his study, the night we . . . took you. His face reddening further, he continued in a rushed, awkward manner. I dont know why. Father told us to burn everything. It was lying on a desk

in his study and I just took it. Later, after everything that happened on the mountain, I was feeling so confused, mixed up about everything. I was hoping there might be something in here that might help me understand the point of it all. All the death. Sams eyes met Winters, and she saw the deep remorse in them. What I read didnt change my mind completely, the Demori are dangerous even you have to admit that but I learnt enough to figure out not everything Father told us was true. Theyre not all evil monsters. Blake wasnt. You were right about him and we were wrong. He knelt down again and started searching through the duffle bag. Winter could only stand there and watch him silently, shaken by his confession. By his apology. I was going to send the journal to you, Sam continued. Anonymously. Except its written in French and I wasnt sure if youd be able to read the words. So I started translating it a few weeks ago. He stood up again with another book in his hands. This one was a plain blue exercise notebook. He cautiously held it out for Winter to take, as though worried she might throw it back in his face. Im not finished yet, but I thought you might need something to keep yourself distracted tonight. What with everything thats happened. You speak French? she asked, taking the book gently from his hands. It was much easier to ask a question, focusing on this superfluous detail, rather than put into words the complex emotional reaction she was experiencing. Sam shrugged modestly. Yeah. I spent the first ten years of my life living just outside of Paris. He gestured at the two books in her hands, his expression growing achingly sincere. It doesnt make up for anything that happened. I know that. I just want you to believe that Im sorry for what my family did to him. And to you. Its been Blakes alive. It was out of her mouth before she could stop herself. Sams gift and heartfelt speech had left her reeling, temporarily unable to filter her thoughts or emotions. She needed to tell somebody about Blake, and any misgivings

shed had about trusting Sam no longer seemed justified. Not after everything hed just said. What are you talking about? he said, a deep crease appearing between his eyes. Blakes alive, Sam, she repeated, her heartbeat quickening as the words left her lips. Saying it aloud somehow made it seem even more fantastically real. Before you found me tonight, the lodestone she placed the books down on her bed and pulled out the lodestone, holding it out for Sam to see. It started glowing. And then I saw him. I saw Blake. He was alive, but in terrible pain. Sam shook his head slightly, regarding her with deepening concern. Blake died on the mountain, Winter. It was like Jasmine all over again. Why wouldnt

anyone believe her?

I know what happened, Sam, Winter responded, her voice raw with emotion. I was there. But somehow he survived. Not here, but in the Dead Lands. The Dead Lands? Sam frowned at her, but at least that maddening look of pity had left his eyes. I think so. She shrugged helplessly. I dont know for sure. It was over so quickly. Hes being held prisoner by something. Some awful creature in a red robe. That seemed to get Sams attention. A red robe? Youre sure of this? Winter nodded enthusiastically, encouraged by his reaction. Yes, do you know what Im talking about? Have you ever heard of this happening before? Someone being reincarnated? Surviving death. Sam hesitated before answering. No. I havent. Its impossible. Winter felt the hope that had swelled within her start to sink, but then she noticed something strange about Sams oddly blank expression. He was lying to her. Sam Im sorry, Winter. Deads dead. Not even a Demori can come back to life. But how do you explain what I saw? she asked, studying him closely. He shifted uncomfortably beneath her stare.

I cant. So you dont know for sure? If Im right, if Blakes alive. Will you help me? There it was, a simple desperate plea. Sam swallowed drily, turned and opened her bedroom window. If I can. Well talk about it tomorrow. He picked up the duffle bag and threw it out of the window. She heard it land softly on the grass at the foot of the tall tree outside her bedroom. Winter stared at him, waiting for him to say something else. Something that would scour this feeling of uncertainty she now had. This new sense that her hope was a fools hope. Ill see you at six-thirty. Just before sunset, Sam said, ignoring the disappointment in her eyes. For a moment, Winter didnt know what he was talking about and then she remembered Benedict. Dont be late, he continued, and she had the impression he was almost eager to be out in the dark. You should be safe during the day as long as you stay in the house. Try not to go anywhere alone. Stepping out onto the window ledge he looked back at her, a half-smile playing on his lips. Crazy night, huh? You could say that. Winter couldnt muster a smile. With one furtive glance Sam had managed to compromise the trust shed awarded him. He seemed to sense this, his expression conflicted as he turned and leapt agilely onto the branch of the tree outside her bedroom. It sagged a little beneath his body weight but held firm. Winter watched him grip the branch and skilfully lower himself down. He hung suspended over the ground for a moment before dropping soundlessly onto the grass. In an instant he was up and scurrying into the shadows. Still upset by his reaction, Winter nevertheless felt a pang of concern as soon as Sam disappeared from view. Was he really going to spend all night alone in the dark? She wished theyd established some kind of signal Sam could use if Benedict showed up. Staring out of the window pensively, that secretive look in Sams eyes haunted her. Well talk about it tomorrow, hed said, and she would

make sure they did. She didnt care if they were being hunted by a vengeance-crazed, soul-sucking monster. If Sam knew something about where Blake was, she would poke and prod him until he gave up his secrets. Winter closed the window and sat down on her bed. Picking up the journal and notebook Sam had given her, all her concerns and anxiety fell away. These were Blakes words, his story. Reading them wouldnt be the same as holding him in her arms, but it might make the vast distance between them seem smaller somehow. She opened the leather-bound journal and fanned slowly through the yellow pages, her fingers tracing Blakes neat, flowing script. Though the words didnt make sense, it made her happy to imagine Blake sitting at his desk writing them. Reverently she placed the journal next to the lodestone on her bedside table, touching the leather binding one last time, then lay back with Sams notebook. His handwriting seemed much coarser than Blakes perfect calligraphy, but she could read it with little trouble. The first entry was dated August thirteenth, less than a month before Blake came to Hagans Bluff. She felt a cold shiver creep down the back of her neck as her eyes scanned the opening sentence.

Claudette escaped tonight.

Blakes Diary, August 13th

Claudette escaped tonight. It was close to midnight when I heard the cats begin to scream and I knew something was wrong. The storm had been so loud that I almost missed their cries, obscured as they were by the howling winds and deafening thunderclaps. Fearing the worst I quickly made my way through the dark house, guided by the bursts of purple and blue lightning from outside. The power had been off for nearly an hour. Coming up the stairs to the second floor, I saw the bodies. Dozens of them scattered in the hallway. Shed fed before escaping. Horrified, I entered her room and saw the empty holding circle. There was a pool of brownish water on the ground, smearing the chalk Id used to trace the circle. It must have been how she escaped, though even now Im mystified as to how she came across the water. Tomorrow, when the suns high and shes sleeping, Ill examine her room. Its imperative that I solve this mystery. While the method of her escape eluded me, there was no doubt in my mind as to where shed gone. The perfume of the Dead Lands still hung heavily in the air. After a moments hesitation, I followed her I Travelled, praying that it wasnt too late. That Id find her in the dark skies over the city before she made a Shadow Door.

Soaring just above the clouds, I was aware of the narcotic effect of the air as I drew it into my lungs. Almost instantly my fears vanished and the panicked thoughts racing through my head were soothed by a deep calm. I welcomed the sensation, rather than fight it. Confronting Claudette would be easier with a clear mind. However, I made a conscious effort not to look down at Krypthia, into the light wells. The moments it would cost if I succumbed, if only temporarily, to the lights call, could mean the difference between intercepting Claudette or missing her. Id all but given up hope when I saw her ahead, white robes billowing about her like the wings of some monstrous bird. She was in the process of creating a Shadow Door and through the thin grey veil separating the Dead Lands from the Earthly Realm I saw a house with a childs red tricycle standing in the front yard. Even the narcotic-laced air couldnt stop the flash of horror I experienced upon recognising that house. It was Ellens. Id dropped her home there two nights earlier after finding her waiting on my doorstep with her charity documents, the silly pretence she used to visit me. The tricycle belonged to her brother Eric. Hed been riding around on it as Id parked to let her out. Seeing the Shadow Door open, and realising Claudettes dreadful purpose, I willed myself to fly faster. Just before she passed through the Shadow Door, I collided violently with her mid-air, sending us both tumbling down towards Krypthia. Claudette quickly gathered herself, rebounding from the shock of my unexpected attack, and started lashing out at me in fury, hooking her hands into claws, tearing at my face and chest. Tangled together in the air, we fought for what seemed like hours, our battle taking us down into the low clouds drifting above the city. She tried to disorientate me in the churning mists, but I was determined not to let her go and held firm. Eventually she tired, and in that split second when she weakened I created a Shadow Door back to the house on Iris Street, back to her room. Dragging her screaming through the portal, I threw her down on the floor, bracing

myself for a renewed battle. Instead, Claudette fell to her knees and let loose a howl of such brutal torment I almost went to her, almost took her in my arms. For a moment she was my sister again, and her misery wrenched at my heart. Only for a moment though, and then she glared at me balefully from beneath the grey tangles of her hair, and I saw murder in her eyes. I was her prison warden. Nothing more. An obstacle to be overcome. Or destroyed. Quickly I retraced the part of the holding circle that had been washed clean by the water, and sealed it with the words Val Muren had taught me. She watched me complete the process from the far edge of the circle, a chilling smile on her face, as if she knew something I didnt. Even when I left the room, her smile remained with me, an uneasy companion in the dark. The storm had eased to a light drizzle as I collected the bodies of fallen cats and carried them to the backyard. I buried them with as much reverence as I could muster in my exhausted state while a conclave of cats watched on. They didnt blame me for what happened, however that didnt alleviate the guilt I felt, shovelling the wet soil down onto their cousins wasted forms. Smoothing down the earth over the graves I was gripped by an awful sense of premonition. Ellen, the girl Id met at the grocery store who asked so many questions. Ellen, who somehow found out where I lived. Ellen, who just wanted to be my friend. To know me. Staring at the grave I thought of her. Claudette must have observed the girls first visit to the house, watching her through the boards Id nailed up over the windows. Or perhaps she simply heard her voice as she spoke to me on the doorstep. In any case, I now know Ellen has been chosen. Its my fault. I should never have ventured into town, there are other ways to obtain supplies, groceries. It was foolish of me. If it had been anyone else standing behind the register then perhaps I would have passed through the grocery aisles unnoticed. Ellen noticed me. She saw me as the others did and followed me here.

Am I to live as a hermit, cut off from society for fear of bringing swift death down upon those I come in contact with? Perhaps I should disfigure myself horribly? Then those poor souls who find me so fascinating will no longer see the illusion of beauty. Theyll see the monster. The monster who greets me in every mirrors reflection. The sun has nearly raised itself up fully from the shadows of the world and soon it will be safe for me to rest. Tomorrow I will begin the preparations for the move. Weve lingered in this town long enough. Already I feel the hot breath of the Bane on the back of my neck, but this isnt why we must go. That knowing smile of Claudettes haunts me even now as I sit here writing. The longer we stay here the chances of my premonition coming to pass grow stronger. I wont let another die. I mustnt.

The Black Mirror

The room smelt of death. A thick, cloying odour, which reminded Lamara of meat left in the sun too long. As she drew closer to her mothers bed, the smell became stronger. The smoke from the hearth fire could not cover it. Three months was all it had taken for the illness to progress this far. Enoch, the village healer, had told Lamara her mother would not survive another three. Looking down at her mothers wasted form, the grey patches on her cheeks, the thin, colourless lips, Lamara believed him. The gods had abandoned them. She had made the necessary sacrifices, fasted, spent hours in silent prayer, yet they did not answer. They would not answer. Outside she could hear Teodores hammer as he worked with the other acolytes, forcing the stones into place. Her mother hadnt awoken in two days and she didnt think the sound of hammering would succeed where her prayers had failed. The work needed to be done. They were so close to finishing. Lamaras pulse quickened as she saw her mother stir, moaning softly. Perhaps the noise had roused her after all? One trembling hand crept blindly from beneath the covers, reaching for Lamaras. She took it in both of hers, shocked at the cold touch of her mothers skin. It was stifling in the

small room, but clearly not warm enough. She needed more wood for the fire. Mother? Lamara asked, staring anxiously down. Dau-daughter? Her eyelids slowly raised, the pupils taking a moment to adjust to the flickering firelight. Though the sun had yet to disappear behind the mountains, Lamara had covered the windows to block out the icy gusts, which roared down from the snow-capped peak above. Seeing her mother shivering, Lamara said, Ill fetch you another fur. She began to pull away, but her mothers grip was surprisingly strong. The gods . . . have spoken to me, she rasped in between painful breaths. Astonished, Lamara found herself momentarily at a loss for words. Eventually, she stammered, What did they say? Her mothers eyes clouded and she began to drift away, the effort to speak too much. To her shame, a brief impulse to shake her mother awake gripped Lamara. She calmed herself. They could speak of the vision when she next awoke. If she awoke. Lamara went to brush back a lock of black hair from her mothers feverish forehead, and was startled when her eyes snapped open. Moth? They told me . . . what you plan on doing, she hissed. Lamara frowned, disturbed by the look of accusation in her mothers eyes. I dont Promise me youll stop this madness. Mother, it is just the sickness Foolish girl! She struggled to sit up, her voice rising. I hear the hammers outside! I know The words were stolen by a violent coughing fit. Lamara quickly took one of the strips of cloth by the side of the bed and held it to her mothers mouth, easing her gently down. When the fit passed there was blood on the cloth. Her eyes slowly shut again, and her voice became weak. Whatever fire had briefly entered her body now sputtered out. Promise me, daughter, she whispered

fiercely. As it struggled to escape her constricted throat, her breath sounded eerily like the mountain wind whistling through the nooks and cracks of the hut. Promise me you will not go. A knock at the door offered Lamara a chance to escape. There is someone outside, she said by way of an excuse to leave. Before she could close the bedroom door, her mother whispered again, Promise me, Lamara. She hesitated in the doorway. A part of her sensed this might be the last time she spoke to her mother. Ill return soon. Later, she would think back on these words and question whether or not she knew she was lying when she spoke them. Teodore was waiting for her outside the hut, his clothes and beard covered in a thick layer of white rock dust. He looked like hed just wandered in through the snow. Towering over Lamara, he remained humble in her presence, unable to meet her gaze. She knew it had less to do with her standing and more to do with whatever secret emotions he harboured behind those kind, grey eyes. What is it, Teodore? Teodore cleared his throat, his gaze darting to her, then away again. It is finished, Farseer. Lamaras eyes widened slightly, but this was the only outer evidence that his words had affected her. As the youngest farseer in the villages history she had learnt early to affect a commanding presence even though she still felt every bit the insecure seventeen-year-old. Are you sure? Teodore nodded, eager to please her. It is to your design. As we finished carving the final rune it began to give off a strange heat. The men are afraid. Lamaras mouth had gone dry. So soon. She had seen the progress they were making but thought there were still days worth of work ahead. Her mind reeled with the enormity of the task she was about to undertake. Ill be with you in a moment, she said, quickly returning inside to grab her wolfskin and taking the time to compose herself. It would not do to let the others glimpse

her conflicted emotions the excitement and the fear. She passed by the bedroom on her way back to Teodore, and considered briefly entering. Of going to her mother and embracing her. Lamara convinced herself that it would be best not to disturb her again she needed her rest but a deeper truth insisted something else. She did not want to meet that accusing gaze again. Promise me you will not go! Stepping out of the hut, the cold wind stung Lamaras face. She drew the wolfskin tightly around her and followed Teodore down the winding path. Their home lay on the slope of the mountain, positioned back from a flat piece of rocky earth that jutted out over the valley. Just over the lip of the shelf, rows upon rows of treetops poked up at the crimson sky like arrowheads. In the distance the sun glared malevolently over the craggy peaks of the mountain range, like an eye filled with blood. Her gaze was still fixed on the red sun a bad omen if ever she read one when she finally saw the results of Teodores labour. Lamaras breath caught in her throat. The portal was precisely as she remembered it, so much so that she had to blink several times before her mind was convinced it was real, and not the stuff of dreams. Twelve feet high, Teodore had constructed the two concentric granite rings precisely as shed drawn them in the clay. The runes chiselled into the rings were the same as the ones she held in her mind, the same ones that had haunted her dreams since that day when the farseer had disappeared. The central black disc was now in position. It had taken the acolytes many months to source this last piece, and more than once Lamara found herself cursing the men who had destroyed the original portal, fearing that she might never gather the materials necessary to re-create it. But no, here it was, standing against the darkening sky just as it had before. Teodores three apprentices Dermid, Gula and Rais stood a good distance back, regarding the portal fearfully. They had not yet passed the necessary rituals to become acolytes, and if the tentativeness written across their features now was any clue, she doubted they ever

would. Some men were not meant to witness miracles. Does it please you, Farseer? Teodore said, watching her nervously from beneath his thick, stone-dusted eyebrows. Lamara smiled at him, feeling a little breathless. Yes. Very much so. You have surpassed my expectations. I am deeply grateful. At her words, Teodores anxious expression relaxed and a smile creased his careworn features. I would do anything you asked of me. Lamara reached out and touched his arm. I know, Teodore. Their eyes locked briefly, but in that short time Lamara could see a life with this strong, quiet man. Both of them could leave their responsibilities behind. Travel to the west where the sun was lower in the skies and the ground fertile. It would be a happy life, one where she could be a mother, a wife. The farseer no longer. His mouth worked as though he was trying to say something further, but a noise in the distance distracted them both, ruining the fragile moment. There were horses approaching. Frowning, she and Teodore turned to see five men wrapped in black cloaks come riding around the bend. Her eyes narrowed in irritation when she saw who led them. It was Ufgars successor, Valloch, the high priest. Valloch had always resented Lamaras standing in the village, believing that he, and only he, was worthy of speaking for the gods. She suspected he secretly coveted her title as farseer. The scornful way he spoke of her youth and inexperience in the village meetings left little doubt that he felt he was a much more suitable candidate. The village had chosen her though, their decision based on her history with the previous farseer and her undeniable talent for scrying and prophecy. So far, their faith had been rewarded with Lamaras accurate predictions with regards to crops and harvesting, but it would only take one mistake, one false or inaccurate reading for Valloch to denounce her. Had his moment finally arrived? Shifting his bulk, Valloch dismounted clumsily from the

horse and strode towards them. Teodore stepped protectively in front of Lamara. What brings you to the mountain, Valloch? Vallochs gaze shot past Teodore to Lamara. It is of no concern to you, stonesmith. Our business is with the girl. Teodores aspect stiffened, his hand went to the hammer hanging from his belt. Then your business is with me. I speak for the farseer and her acolytes and you would be wise to remember my standing when you address me. Be calm, friend, Lamara said softly as she stepped past Teodore. Why do you seek me, high priest? she asked cautiously, her gaze jumping from the sword clanging at his hip to his fleshy, pink face. Do not play innocent with me, girl! he grunted at her. His eyes went past her to the portal beyond. Visibly awed by the construct, he took a moment to regain his composure. I see for myself the rumours are true. What rumours are these? You plan on carrying out this blasphemy! You mean to travel to the other side. Blasphemy? Where is it written that the gods do not welcome us in their kingdom? If it were so, then they would give us the means to do so. Lamara gestured at the portal. They have. Valloch sneered, but his expression wavered as his gaze fell upon the stone rings once more. That construct is the work of arrogance. I seek only to save my mothers life. Her life is in the hands of the gods. And Ill see they treat it with proper respect. Vallochs face deepened in colour. It is not for us to question their will. We cannot risk the wrath such an offence might incur. Lamara of the Grey, you will stop this madness. I will not! Lamara said, her voice rising above the wind howling around them. Then we shall stop you, Valloch vowed, drawing his sword. The men hed brought with him drew their weapons and began to advance on Lamara and Teodore.

Youll not touch her! Teodore cried, brandishing his hammer. Stand aside, Teodore! Valloch commanded, but Teodore ignored him, turning quickly to Lamara. Go, my farseer. Go now! Lamara hesitated. She did not wish to see Teodore hurt in her name. Teodore . . . Please. His gaze met hers once more, silently communicating everything left unsaid. May the gods be with you, she said, wishing she could say more. Teodore nodded, and then whirled to face Valloch. Teodores apprentices had taken up their hammers and joined the fray. With the sound of clanging steel at her back, Lamara ran to the portal. As she drew closer she could see her frightened image reflected in the polished black stone, just as she had all those years ago. The face in the reflection was older but the expression the same. Her skin prickled, reacting to the strange heat emanating from it that Teodore had mentioned. She realised with alarm that she was no longer certain of what was about to happen. The farseers agonised scream, her mothers deathbed warning and her own insecurities swarmed through her mind, causing her to question herself. Could she really go through with this? A man cried out in pain behind her. She resisted the temptation to see who it was, knowing that if she saw Teodore hurt she would falter. This was her one chance to see if the portal worked, as the farseer had claimed it would. Her one chance to try to save her mothers life. Valloch would no doubt destroy it, should he break through Teodores defensive line. Her heart pounding, Lamara placed her palms against the smooth surface of the black disc and closed her eyes. The stone felt warm beneath her touch, as though it remembered the fire it had been born from. As the old farseer had instructed her, she concentrated all her willpower on the abstract notion of opening. There was no hinge, no handle for her to grasp, but if this was a doorway

then it must be able to open. She was the Key that would unlock it. In the background another man cried out, but his voice sounded distant. A slow grinding sound rose above the noise of steel and iron clashing together. Lamara opened her eyes and saw with a surge of excitement the outer ring beginning to move. It was working! The heat from the stone beneath her palms intensified, but she didnt draw away. Instead, she forced her body to welcome the heat, drawing it in like a dry cloth soaking up water. There is no pain, she told herself, ignoring the persistent memory of the farseers terror-stricken features. He had been unworthy. Afraid. Lamara was not. Now the inner ring began to move, rotating in the opposite direction to the outer ring. The runes carved into the granite surface blurred as the motion quickened. Stop her! She heard Valloch yell desperately, but it was too late. The black stone began to shiver and ripple with a weird green light. Its solid surface began to give way beneath her touch her hands were sinking into the stone as though it had turned to liquid! Her body thrumming with power, Lamara pushed forward, sinking into the stone up to her elbows, her shoulders. She took a deep breath and stepped into the darkness.

Chapter 15

Though the dream was reluctant to let her go, Winter found herself pulled awake by the persistent beeping of her phone. For the first time in many nights, she had not spent hours tormented by the horrors shed seen on Owl Mountain. Her subconscious had concocted a different scenario, one which was far less disturbing but still left her restless and upset as her eyes fluttered open. Winter had been flying through the dark skies over Krypthia, possessing in the dream the Demoris power of flight. It had been an extraordinarily vivid experience, and she could remember clearly the sensation of the warm wind against her face, and the intoxicating scent of the Dead Lands air. For the first part of the dream shed been preoccupied with her new-found power of flight, thrilling in the way she could affect her course, dipping and rising, bouncing on the invisible air streams, and then she realised she was not alone. Someone was flying ahead of her, drifting just above the thick, bulbous clouds lit from the city lights below like vast Chinese lanterns. Their shadow floated along the clouds surface, skittering across vaporous hills and valleys. It was Blake. Shifting her course, she aimed towards the distant figure, willing herself to fly faster. Trying to call out his name,

she was disappointed to find her voice didnt work in this realm. The only sound she could hear was the wind rushing by, and the sound of bells chiming somewhere down in Krypthia. Like church bells, only eerily discordant. Slowly she gained on him, drifting ever closer. His grey suit flared out behind him like a cape, almost within arms reach and then the beeping had started and the dream lost its hold. Groggily, she rolled over onto her side to check the message. Sams notebook slipped off her chest onto the floor. Shed still been reading it when her eyes had closed, unable to resist the pull of sleep after the evenings drama had left her exhausted. The message was from Jasmine and simply read: Im

sorry. Coffee?
Winter put the phone back down, too disorientated to reply immediately. The emotion churned up by the dream lingered, making it difficult to think clearly. She still felt half asleep, the events of last night unreal. Looking over at Blakes journal drove home that it had all happened. Everything the vision of Blake, Sidaris and Benedict, Sams intervention. Sams gift. Reading about Claudette again had been at turns painful and frightening. She didnt know what shed expected to learn in Sams transcribed passages, but had been unprepared for such a dramatic entry. Her eyes flicking nervously across the words, Winter had felt a cold chill creep down the back of her neck. It was all too easy to imagine herself in Ellens place, Claudette desperately trying to reach her to satisfy her monstrous cravings. As shed read further, this fear had dissipated, replaced with an aching pity for Blakes circumstances. Such loneliness and self-loathing. Before sleep had taken her, Winters eyes had been wet with tears and the salt of these tears still dusted her cheeks. Wiping her face, Winter swung her legs out of bed and stooped to pick up Sams notebook.

Sam!
She twisted around and pressed her face against the window. The glass was cool, the morning light not yet strong enough to warm it. Her breath fogged the glass,

obscuring the tree outside. She rubbed the condensation away but still couldnt see the red scarf. Heart pounding, Winter grabbed her dressing gown and raced out of the room. She took the stairs two at a time down to the garage and ran out the back door into the yard. Frosty grass crackled beneath her feet like broken glass as she circled the tree, searching for the flash of red. Relief flooded through her as she spotted the scarf tied around the bottom branch. Sam had survived the night. Letting out a deep sigh, Winter untied the scarf. She was stuffing it into her pocket when the voice startled her. Good morning. Winter turned and saw Dominic, dressed in the same clothes as the previous evening holding a bunch of green weeds in his hands. I didnt mean to scare you. Winter shook her head. Its okay. Did you sleep well? She regretted the question as soon it left her mouth, not really wanting to know what went on in her sisters bedroom during the night. Dominics cheeks coloured slightly. Yes. Very well, thank you. He held up the weeds. I was just picking some rocket. So thats what the weeds were. It was news to Winter that herbs grew in their garden. Why? Breakfast. Im going to make omelettes. Impressive. Its the most important meal of the day, he replied without a trace of irony. What were you doing out here? Winter realised she didnt have an excuse and her brain, still not fully alert, was unable to manufacture one for her. I wasnt picking rocket thats for sure, she said, with what she hoped was a friendly grin. Should we get inside? My feet are freezing. Dominic didnt seem to mind that shed dodged the question. Winter paused before they ascended the staircase back up to the house. Thanks for what you did last night. Helping me out with Lucy. Dominic shrugged bashfully. I was young once. Not all

that long ago, actually. I know how important secrets can be at your age. It was a slightly odd response but she didnt let it bother her. She had other things to worry about. Namely, Benedict. It was still early morning but the sun had already begun its journey across the sky. Last night it had all just been talk in the kitchen. With her thoughts occupied with Blake it had been easy not to dwell on the task shed agreed to help Sam with. Murder. It was self-defence, but that didnt stop her stomach twisting into a knot. Six-thirty would come soon enough.

Chapter 16

She spent the rest of the day trying to avoid clocks. It was hard enough trying to keep her mind off Benedict without being reminded constantly of the passing of time and the approach of her planned rendezvous with Sam. Unfortunately, this was incredibly difficult Winter never realised just how many clocks there were in the house. There was the microwave with its green digits flashing in the kitchen, the DVD player over the television also showed the time, and there was the clock radio in her bedroom. Even the bathroom had a small hourglass egg-timer-like device which Lucy had bought because both of them were constantly spending too long in the shower and using up the hot water. Winter couldnt escape time no matter how hard she tried. It didnt help matters that she was alone. Dominic left shortly after breakfast (the omelettes he made were amazing, and Winter regretted not being able to eat due to her poor appetite. It had been a long time since anything so tasty had been served in the Adams sisters kitchen), and Lucy was called in to the pharmacy to cover for someone who was sick. Usually, Lucy would have kicked up more of a fuss over having to sacrifice her Saturday, but nothing seemed able to shake the smile from her face. If Winter hadnt been so preoccupied she would have

found her sisters starry-eyedness sweet (if a little cringeworthy). Unfortunately she couldnt share Lucys happiness. She kept on seeing the image of Benedicts cat-like eyes glittering in the darkness. What had she agreed to? Trapping and killing a Demori. The more she thought about it the more suicidal it seemed. Winter watched television, listened to music, even read some more of Sams transcription of Blakes journal, but nothing could hold her attention for long. The journal entries in fact made things worse. As much melancholic pleasure as she experienced reading Blakes words, there was an undeniable sense of foreboding shadowing his passages. Reading about Ellen, Winter couldnt help but remember the dark fate of Carol Oats, murdered by Claudette the crime the Bane had blamed on Blake. She had a feeling poor Ellen might have suffered a similar fate. The scary thing was Blake seemed aware of this, but remained helpless to change the dark course he and his sister were on. Eventually, as the time ticked down and the quiet of the house began to get to her, Winter decided shed had enough. Originally, shed planned on waiting until Lucy came home to borrow the car, but getting out of the house and walking to meet Sam now seemed a better option. Hopefully the exercise would help her sweat off some of this anxiety she felt creeping over her like an army of ants. Before leaving, she considered writing a note for Lucy. What could she say? Hey Sis, gone monster hunting. If Im

not back by dinner its probably because I had my soul sucked out. Dont wait up.
Thinking about this, Winter paled. She and Sam wouldnt fail. Couldnt fail. It wasnt just her own life she feared losing, but Blakes as well. If she died tonight, so did Blakes chances of being delivered from whatever nightmarish situation he was imprisoned in. Trying to hold this resolution in her mind, use it as some kind of talisman to stave off the fear that threatened to engulf her, Winter set off towards the bluffs; her destination Morningside Cemetery.

Chapter 17

It took her a little more than an hour to reach Morningsides tall, wrought-iron gates. Mercifully, the carpark was empty Winter and Sam didnt need any witnesses tonight but part of her had hoped to see Sams station wagon. Red scarf or no red scarf, shed feel a whole lot better once she saw him alive and well again. It was barely past six so there was plenty of time for him to get here. Plenty of time. The gate creaked softly as she pushed it open, the twin bronze angels mounted on the gate posts stared down at her sightlessly as she passed below. The cemetery covered the entire hill, rows of tombstones marching down the grassy slope to the cliffs edge. Beyond the bluff, the ocean was the colour of twilight, dark blue spotted with white caps and bobbing gulls. Winter could hear the waves breaking at the base of the cliff and taste salt in the air. She paused a moment to take in the view, breathing in the sea mist. Moving into the cemetery, Winter headed towards Paupers Lane, a name shed overheard two gravediggers discuss during one of her earlier visits. Here was a place where those too poor to afford a tombstone, or those who had less ostentatious ornamentation, were laid to rest. The small cement plaques which all looked the same from a distance were barely wide enough to

accommodate the names of those buried below. The dead buried here were robbed not only of life but also of personality, forced to share the same dull concrete slabs, their identity printed plainly. Though it was awful imagining herself buried here, it was almost unbearable knowing that Paupers Lane held Blakes remains. This was why shed nominated Morningside as the place to lure Benedict. She guessed there would be less cause for him to be suspicious if she used the lodestone in this location. The Demori had heard her call for Blake before, it stood to reason she would be tempted to make that call again at his grave. Her eyes jumped between the two inscriptions stamped on the plane brass plates: Unknown Male, Died August 17th, Unknown Female, Died August 17th. Blake and Claudette, brother and sister. She felt a stab of pain pierce the core of her being, her hand going instinctively to the lodestone around her neck. How agonising it had been reading the reports in the newspaper and seeing the police on the news calling for information regarding the two corpses theyd retrieved from the blackened ruins of Pilgrims Lament. Marcus, Damien and Caleb Bennet had been quickly identified through forensic evidence but Blake and Claudette remained a mystery to the authorities. It was Jasmine whod counselled Winter against going to the police. She reasoned that to identify Blake would be a dire mistake. There was no way Winter would truthfully be able to answer the questions they asked, and worse still, might be implicated in the murders as Sam had been. It wouldnt do Blake any good if Winter spent the next few decades in jail as Sams accomplice. While Winter doubted it would ever come to that, shed reluctantly conceded Jasmine had a point and so had allowed her love to be buried without his name. Shed watched the burial though, hidden from behind one of the larger tombstones, as the appointed official custodians deposited Blake and Claudettes ashes with little ceremony. It seemed so wrong! There hadnt even been a priest.

Winter closed her eyes forcing the pain into the background of her thoughts. There was no need to mourn him any longer. Blake was alive. It was only dust and dirt beneath her feet. He was alive. Hearing the crunch of tyres on gravel in the carpark behind her, Winter checked her watch: six-thirty. She turned and saw the green station wagon rolling to a stop near the cemetery gates.

Chapter 18

As Sam stepped out of the car to greet her, Winter saw the signs of exhaustion on his face. Even in the fading light the dark shadows under his eyes were plainly evident. It didnt look like hed slept a wink since shed last seen him. Boy am I glad to see you, she said. Sam smiled tiredly. I wasnt going to stand you up. Last night was okay? He nodded his head. Yeah. No Benedict. I didnt think hed be able to pinpoint where you lived unless you used the stone again. His expression grew cautious. You didnt, did you? No. Good. But you brought it with you today? Winter pulled it out from underneath her top. Of course. Sams gaze went from the stone to her face, frowning. Are you sure youre up to this? No, she wasnt. What Winter wanted to do more than anything was go home and forget all about Benedict. But she couldnt. And now, night was coming. Winter tried to affect a look of confidence. Yes. Once were . . . finished, we need to talk about Blake. He nodded reluctantly, avoiding her questioning gaze. Okay. Again there was that expression of furtiveness, and

her suspicion that he knew something about Blakes circumstances strengthened. Before the night was out she was determined to find out exactly what he knew. Sam moved to the back of the car, opened the door and withdrew the machete and its leather belt, strapping it diagonally across his chest. I need you to promise me something, he said, as he tightened the strap. If something happens to me tonight. If Benedict . . . if it doesnt go according to plan. You need to call this number. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a torn piece of paper with a number scrawled across it in red pen. Ask for Magdalene. Tell her about Benedict. Shell know what to do. Confused, Winter took the paper from him. Whos Magdalene? My aunt, Sam said, pulling on his grey trenchcoat, hiding the machete. Shell be able to help you. How? Magdalenes the head of the Bonnaire family, Sam explained. The Bane, he clarified. He turned away from her, collecting his duffel bag before she could question him further. Looking at the number hed given her, Winters imagination kicked into overdrive. So, Sam wasnt the last of the Bane . . . Can you carry something for me? Sam asked, interrupting her thoughts. Sure. She folded the number away, eager to be given something to do. At the moment she felt as helpless as a worm about to be wrapped around the hook of a fishing line. Sam heaved the duffle bag over to her. Catch. Winter caught the bag, straining beneath its weight

what the hell did he have in here?

Were losing light. Its nearly time. Grabbing his crossbow, he walked past her towards the gates and she quickly followed.

Chapter 19

Sam headed away from Paupers Lane, down the hill, cutting through the tombstones towards the older section of Morningside. Where are we going? Blakes grave is back there, Winter called, struggling to keep up with his purposeful stride. We need cover, Sam said, gesturing towards a tall statue of a wingless angel. It was easily one of the biggest monuments in the cemetery, presiding over the grave of Arthur Hillcoat, a property baron who was largely responsible for developing the coastal stretch of Hagans Bluff. Besides, hes not going to have time to realise hes made a mistake, he added. They paused a few rows away from the stone angel, Sam nodding to the bag in Winters arms. You can put that down. Winter placed the bag on the grass, careful not to dump it directly over the grave. She might not have been superstitious but she was respectful of the dead and didnt want to disturb someones resting place. Sam lent his crossbow against the tombstone so his hands were free and knelt down to unzip the bag. He withdrew a thick loop of chain, stood back and walked it around the grave, creating a crude circle. This is called a holding circle, he

explained, seeing Winters curiosity. It will stop Benedict Travelling once he appears. He walked back to the bag and removed four metal containers the size of lunchboxes. Each container had a different swirling design punched out of the metal cover. As he placed them around the circle, he opened the covers and lit the candles hidden within. The containers began to glow faintly in the dusk like lanterns. Is this going to work, Sam? Winter asked anxiously once hed finished his preparations. Sam picked up his bag and walked over to her. I have no idea, he said, shrugging. Ive never done this before. Seeing her worried expression, he smiled reassuringly at her. Dont worry, youll be perfectly safe. His smile did not convince her. How do you figure? Sam picked up the duffle bag and crossbow. Come with me, he said, leading her towards the stone angel. Once they were positioned behind it, he opened his bag again and brought out a leather satchel, tied with a drawstring. Stand still, he told her, loosening the string. Winter obeyed, watching him curiously as he began to pour a vaguely luminescent green powder around her. Elderflower? she asked, staring at the shimmering substance curiously. As far as she could tell the powder had no scent. No. Elderflower only works indoors. This is called Dust or Warding Dust. It will keep you safe. Where does it come from? Winter said, squinting at the fine, sand-like substance. Warding Stones. From the Dead Lands. Very rare. Very powerful. We grind them up to make the Dust. While Winter mused on this information just how did the Bane steal these stones from the Dead Lands? Sam finished making the circle and tied the drawstring again. It might have just been her imagination but once the circle was complete the phosphorescent Dust seemed to glow a little brighter. Do we need to chant or do a dance or something? Winter asked, only half joking. It wouldnt have surprised her if Sam had asked her to do either.

You can if you like, Sam said with a shrug, not rising to the bait. Who knows, it might help. He was about to return the satchel of Dust to his bag when he paused. Instead, he held it out for her to take. Why dont you hang onto this for me? Winter hesitated. Despite her scepticism, clearly Sam considered the Dust very valuable. I cant take it. Please, Id feel better if you did. Reluctantly, Winter took the satchel from his hand. Thank you. Dont mention it, Sam said, picking up the crossbow and stepping away from the bag. It doesnt mean were engaged or anything, he said with a half-smile, and joined her within the glittering barrier hed drawn. Feeling a little foolish, Winter rolled up the satchel and slid it into her jeans. Now what? Sam looked up at the darkening sky. We wait for night. Shouldnt be long. It wasnt. As the last rays of the sun vanished from view, Winter felt the coil of tension in her chest tighten. This was really happening. She was about to risk her life to help trap and kill a Demori. Without wanting to, her mind flashed upon the night on Owl Mountain and Claudettes frenzied and terrifyingly efficient massacre of Sams father and brothers. There had been four of them armed with crossbows and Claudette had easily eliminated them. Did she and Sam really stand a chance against Benedict? This is it, Sam said, all humour gone. Still, he was surprisingly calm given the circumstances, the steely look in his eyes a small comfort to her. Go to the holding circle and use the stone. Call for Blake. Then what? Run back here as fast as you can. He wound the crossbow mechanism back and loaded an iron bolt. Winter gulped, feeling the blood drain from her face. Taking a deep breath, she stepped out of the ring, instantly feeling more exposed. Her eyes flicked warily to the left and right, watching for shadows. Shadows with shining green eyes.

Stepping tentatively into the middle of the holding circle from one ring into another she reached for the lodestone. The sky was almost completely black now, save for a sliver of red on the horizon as thin as a paper cut. With the sun gone, the temperature had fallen dramatically and Winter was cold. Cold and afraid. Her hands trembling slightly she clasped the lodestone between her fingers, closed her eyes and conjured Blakes image. It was easy to do so as shed memorised every detail of his face: the thick wavy black hair spilling across his forehead, the shining eyes, the generous mouth. Blake gave her a bittersweet smile. The only smile she remembered him being capable of making. Blake, Winter said softly, her voice a mere whisper. The word was more than a ruse. It was a prayer and a promise. Winter! Sam hissed behind her. She turned and saw him beckoning her towards him. She rushed back to his side, expecting to feel Benedicts icy hands close around her throat at any moment. Once back within the safety of the Dust, she let out a long tremulous breath. Dont make a sound, Sam said softly beside her as he raised the crossbow, training it on the holding circle. Winter watched the space in the circle nervously, her gaze leaping to the graveyard beyond: the rows of tombstones sloping up the hill, in the middle distance the tall iron fence running the perimeter of Morningside, the front gates which she could hardly make out in the darkness. Suddenly the twin angels atop the gates were thrown into silhouette as a cars headlights arced across them. An engine rumbled, rising above the shifting hush of the ocean, and soon a car rolled into view. Winters heart skipped a beat as she recognised the champagne-coloured Mini Cooper pulling into the space next to Sams station wagon. Oh no! Is that ? Sam started behind her. Yes. Its Jasmine, she finished for him. They both watched as Jasmine walked away from the parked car towards the cemetery gates. Whats she doing here?

How am I supposed to know? Its not like I invited her along tonight, Winter snapped, a cold panic beginning to set in. Her eyes darted to the graveyard. There was no sign of Benedict. Yet. I have to get her out of here. She made a move to leave the ring, but Sam held her back. You cant. Its too dangerous. The Demori could arrive at any second. We cant just stand here and do nothing! His jaw twitched and she saw the conflict going on behind his eyes. She made a move to leave and again he held her back. Im sorry, Winter. I cant let you leave the circle. His eyes pleaded with her to understand, but she looked away. He couldnt honestly expect her to abandon Jasmine. Fine, she said through gritted teeth and turned her back on him. He kept his hand on her arm, but his grip relaxed slightly. Feigning defeat Winter sighed, letting her shoulders drop even as she tensed in readiness to make her move. Silently counting to three, she jerked her elbow backwards, digging it into Sams stomach, just below his solar plexus. He let out a surprised grunt and released her. Winter sprung away from him, sprinting as quickly as she could through the tombstones towards Jasmine who was now standing on the edge of the light spilling in from the carpark. She looked so tiny and vulnerable, dwarfed by the tall gates behind her. Winter! Sam cried out behind her, but she was encouraged by the breathless quality of his voice and how far away he sounded. Shed winded him; he wasnt going to catch up to her right away. Winter threaded through the graves towards Jasmine, wary of calling out in case she brought Benedict down upon them. Jasmine took a nervous step backwards as Winter came hurtling through the cemetery towards her, the look of apprehension relaxing once she recognised her. Winter? Whats the Youve got to get out of here! Winter blurted out between harried breaths. She turned Jasmine around and began marching her back towards the gates and the car. Jasmine wriggled out of her grasp, refusing to be led away.

What are you talking about? I stopped by your house first but when you werent there I figured you probably came here. Especially after what you said last night. About seeing him again. Im really sorry, Win. Winter ignored her friend, glancing around the dark tombstones anxiously. Fear wrapped itself around her, making her feel even more short of breath. Her arms had broken out in goosebumps. Where was Sam? Shed expected him to join them by now. Winter? Jasmine said, frowning at her with deep concern. Jasmine, listen to me, she said, meeting her friends worried gaze. Its not safe. I dont underst An agonised scream shattered the stillness of the night making both girls jump. Sam! Winter gasped, fear clutching at her heart.

Chapter 20

Whats happening, Winnie? Jasmine asked, her eyes flicking warily from Winter to the cemetery. Who screamed? Winter couldnt answer. She just stared at Jasmine, her mouth locked, while her mind struggled to fend off the paralysing terror that now threatened to overwhelm her. What had she done? In trying to warn Jasmine shed placed them all at risk. Now Sam was lying somewhere out there in the dark. Hurt, or worse. She needed to help him, but she found herself unable to move. Something was out there in the dark. Waiting for her. Youre freaking me out! Jasmine said, trying to shake Winter from her non-communicative state. Im sorry, I . . . This was foolish. They couldnt just stand here and wait for Benedict to attack them. Looking at Jasmines pale face she realised she had to tell her something. Prepare her for what they faced. Opening her mouth, Winter began to speak, when another chilling scream rang out. The heart-rending agony in Sams voice shattered her paralysis, and Winter started off towards the sound. She needed to help Sam! Are you crazy? Jasmine hissed, catching up with her and forcibly spinning her around. Dont go out there!

Sams hurt, Winter said, growing desperate. Sam? My Sam? What are you talking about? She paused, realising there was a more pressing question. Winter . . . what hurt him? As if in response a low chuckle echoed through the night. In a way the sound was worse than Sams screams. Benedict was out there and in the mood for fun. Lets get to your car, Winter whispered, her voice trembling. Jasmine nodded eagerly and the two of them turned and ran towards the gates. The idea of leaving Sam to the Demori made her feel sick but what could she do? She had no weapons, no way of fighting Benedict. If she tried to help Sam the only thing shed accomplish would be getting both of them killed. Retreat was her only option. She could hate herself for it later. Jasmines car waited on the other side of the gates, gleaming dully below the carpark fluorescents. Theyd only made it halfway to the gates when there was the sound of exploding glass. The carpark light winked out, plunging them into blackness. Jasmine let out a startled yelp, clinging to Winter like a frightened child. Oh my God! Winter eased her friends death grip from her neck so she could breathe. Again, Benedicts mocking laughter floated towards them, much closer now. He was enjoying himself. Feeling terribly vulnerable in the darkness, Winter pulled her phone out of her jeans and flicked it on, waving it around them like a torch. The pale blue glow wasnt much of a consolation but at least they could see. Call the police! Jasmine whispered, panic in her voice. They wouldnt get here in time, Winter replied grimly. She suddenly remembered the satchel Sam had given her. Hold this. She quickly passed Jasmine her phone, then pulled out the small leather pouch. What are you doing? Hopefully saving our lives, Winter replied, loosening the drawstring. She poured a small, crude circle of glowing Dust around them, careful not to leave any gaps. Once the

circle was complete she stood close to Jasmine twisting the bag anxiously in her hands. What is that stuff? Shh . . . Winter hushed her, straining to listen. For Sam. For Benedict. All she could hear was the crashing of the waves at the base of the cliffs and . . . footsteps! A dark shape shot by them, moving inhumanly fast. Jasmine gasped as the wind of Benedicts passing teased her hair. Leave us alone! she yelled after him, her voice shrill. Winter didnt say anything. Benedict was here for blood. Nothing less would satisfy him. Clever, clever, little girl, came the voice right next to Winters ear and it was her turn to gasp in fright. She whipped around, instinctively placing herself protectively in front of Jasmine, careful to keep within the circumference of the Dust. Her eyes had adjusted to the absence of light but she still couldnt see very far. Only to where the cemetery began, the border of tombstones jutting out of the darkness like a mouthful of crooked teeth. Who is it, Win? Whos out there? Jasmine asked as they continued to wheel in a slow circle, fearfully keeping watch. His names Benedict, she replied in low tones. Hes a Demori. Jasmine took a moment to process this information. Like Blake? Like Claudette. They both jumped as another black shape suddenly came flying out of the darkness. Instead of darting past, this one landed clumsily in a crumpled heap not far from where the two girls stood a thrown body. Is that Sam? Jasmine asked, looking around Winters shoulder. Winter stared worriedly at the figure. She couldnt see his face but recognised the grey trenchcoat wrapped around him like a death shroud. Yes. Is he ? Jasmine couldnt finish her question. Winter shrugged helplessly, not wanting to hear the fear voiced aloud. The two girls squinted through the gloom,

desperately studying the quiet form for any sign of movement. A sign that he was still breathing, still alive. The figure stirred, moaning softly and Winter released the breath shed been holding, hearing Jasmine do the same beside her. He was alive! Any relief she experienced was shortlived though. What are we going to do now? I dont know, Jas, Winter said. Panic was stalking her just as surely as Benedict was, and her attempts at keeping it at bay were failing. Mercifully, the Dust seemed to be working as Sam had said it would. If it hadnt Benedict would have surely attacked them before now. Taking small comfort in this, Winter tried to catalogue their options, limited as they were. She and Jasmine could conceivably stay in the safety of the circle all night. It wouldnt be easy or comfortable but they could manage it. At least until the sun rose, weakening Benedicts power and perhaps bringing with it the arrival of a caretaker or gardener. Sam moaned softly again. Miserably, Winter realised she couldnt just wait till morning. From her vantage point it was impossible to guess the extent of Sams injuries but his screams had been descriptive enough. He was badly hurt. Possibly even dying. If Sam needed medical attention then every minute counted, otherwise, he might not last until morning. Winter glanced anxiously at the phone in Jasmines hand. Feeling a glimmer of hope, she realised she could do as Jasmine originally suggested and call the police. As long as she stayed right where she was Benedict wouldnt be able to stop her. But Sam had nothing to protect him. Who was to say Benedict wouldnt finish the job hed started once he heard the sound of approaching sirens? It was all too easy for Winter to imagine the Demori, furious at being denied his prey, taking out his rage and frustration on Sam. No, she couldnt let that happen. Sam moaned again, sending her frantic thoughts into an even faster spin. What could she do? If she stayed

where she was, she and Jasmine lived while Sam died. If she left the circle it was suicide. Winter? Jasmine asked tentatively. Im thinking, she replied, tying herself into mental knots. It was obvious what the Demori was trying to do use Sam as bait. Lure Winter from the safe confines of the circle so she was vulnerable. Chewing her bottom lip, Winter suddenly had an idea what if she didnt have to leave the circle? Winter weighed the leather satchel in her hand, feeling the powder shift within. Sam was easily ten feet away. She tried to estimate whether or not she had enough Dust to complete her plan. It was questionable, but what choice did she have? Loosening the drawstring again, Winter gingerly lent forward and poured a second protective circle, joining onto the one she and Jasmine stood within. Are you doing what I think youre doing? I have to try, Winter said, squeezing her eyes shut as she stepped into the new circle shed made. Her body tensed in preparation of feeling Benedicts hot breath on the back of her neck. Seconds passed and she remained unharmed. Opening her eyes she saw Jasmine watching her with an expression of intense concern. Please be careful! she said, her frightened gaze skittering from Winter to the cemetery and back again. Winter turned towards Sam and made a third small circle with the Dust. Her heart in her mouth, she jumped, landing within the ring safely. So far so good. She was nearly halfway to Sam now. Her plan was to pour a protective circle around him as soon as she was close enough. Hopefully she could reach him before Benedict figured out what she was trying to do. Once Sam was safe she could call an ambulance. Winter wasnt sure what shed tell the paramedics when they arrived, but she wasnt too worried about coming up with an excuse at this moment. The weight in the satchel lessened as she slowly poured out more of the powder, forming her fourth circle.

Every grain counted so she was extra careful not to use too much. She hopped into this fourth circle, closer to Sam still. If only he would roll over so she could see his face. The way the trenchcoat was pulled up over his head made it impossible to see his features. And hed stopped moaning, making her worry even more. She couldnt even tell if he was breathing anymore. Moving faster now, Winter finished the fifth circle, this one much thinner than the others, the sparkling Dust line only a trickle. Stepping into it, a memory flashed through Winters mind: she and Lucy as children, leaping from cushion to cushion in the living room, pretending the carpet was lava. It was a similar game she played now, though honestly Winter would have preferred it if hot lava coursed around her, rather than this awfully restless darkness. Creating the sixth circle, Winter was now but an arms length away from Sams slumped form. Unfortunately, she faced a dire problem there was not enough Dust to create a circle around him. There was hardly enough for a small seventh circle. Whats the matter? Why have you stopped? Jasmine whispered behind her. Nothing. Frowning down at the powder surrounding her feet, Winter realised she could widen this circle and maybe pull Sam into it. It would be tight but the two of them would just fit within the circumference. Making one last nervous check to see if it was safe to move, Winter executed her plan, casting the edge of powder mere inches from Sams back. Now shed easily be able to reach out and drag him over the line, but shed have to lean out of the protective circle to do so. Not far, but enough for it to be dangerous. Sam? Winter whispered. If he could just move himself closer to her she wouldnt have to put herself at risk. Sam remained still. Winter wiped her damp palms on her jeans and slowly crept forward. She was sweating profusely, her top sticking to her like an icy second skin. Sam? She tried one last time. No response. Steeling herself, Winter moved out of the circle and bent over Sam, gently pulling the trenchcoat down from his face.

She didnt have time to scream.

Chapter 21

It wasnt Sams face grinning up at her as the trenchcoat fell away it was Benedict, his eyes glittering with cruel mirth at the prank hed played. Clever girl! he said, giving the words hed whispered earlier a sarcastic spin. Winter tried to scramble back into the safety of the Dust, but one pale hand shot up, grabbing her by the throat. She heard Jasmine scream behind her and the sound of rushing footsteps, but she couldnt turn her head in Benedicts vice-like grip or shout a warning. Let her go you bast Jasmine cried out, just as Benedict casually lashed out with his free hand, the blow sending her flying backwards like a ragdoll. Winters stomach lurched at the sound of Jasmines body thumping to the ground. She clawed at the arm holding her, but it might as well have been made of stone for all the good it did. Benedicts emerald eyes bored into hers, a faint sneer curling his upper lip. And so here we are. Another night, another drama. I saw that little trap you and the boy cooked up. Most impressive. Its been a long time since Ive seen a holding circle. Quite an enterprising chap youve found yourself with. It might have actually worked too if you hadnt gone running off through the graveyard like a madwoman. His sharp features softened into a falsely sincere expression of

concern. Oh I know, he said, the sickly sweetness of his breath making bile rise in her throat. You wanted to warn your friend. You neednt worry about her. Once Im finished with you Ill see shes properly cared for. His lips curled evilly. After all, Im not a monster. Benedicts threat provoked a burst of anger in Winter eclipsing her terror. She tried to speak but the pressure on her windpipe was too intense to form the words. Benedicts eyebrows arched. Whats that, my sweet? His grip eased, but he still held her firmly. Touch her . . . and Ill kill you, she whispered hoarsely, glaring at him with the full force of her building rage. First Sam, now Jasmine. If she could have raked his eyes out she would have. Just like Sidaris, she finished, taking immense pleasure in the effect the words had on him. Benedicts smirk faded, his mouth tightened and his eyes narrowed dangerously. Quite the wrong thing to say, my sweet. Winters mouth was dry but she managed to generate enough saliva to spit in Benedicts face. A tremor of fury rolled through his body and Winter braced herself for the reprisal. Instead, he smiled, wiping her spit away with his free hand. You are a treat! He pulled her closer. Winter tried to jerk her head away, squirming in his grasp, but he was too strong. She was struggling to breathe. First a kiss, Benedict said softly, his lips almost brushing hers, and then the pain. He lunged forward, pressing his mouth onto hers. Winter sealed her lips shut but they were forced open by Benedicts snake-like tongue. His breath pumped into her lungs, carrying with it a paralysing agent that weakened her struggles. Numbness spread through her body, radiating out from her chest and stealing over her limbs. Winters vision swam as she felt her life essence being drawn into Benedicts gaping maw. She thought of Sam, of Jasmine, of Lucy, and finally of Blake. Holding his face in her mind, she told him, Im sorry, and hoped that wherever she was going shed see him again. Suddenly, brilliant white light exploded all around her,

as though day had sprung unexpectedly upon the night. Benedicts mouth left hers, but his grip was still tight. Through her watery gaze she saw Benedicts expression shift from irritation to anger and she prayed this wasnt just wishful thinking fear. No, he hissed through clenched teeth, his gaze flicking momentarily to Winter and then back to whatever was approaching from behind her. No, he repeated, more loudly this time, the frustration clear. His fingers relaxed around her throat and he drew back, letting her go. Winter crumpled to her knees, unable to support her own weight. She was so weakened she could hardly raise her head to watch Benedict retreat further, driven backwards by the white glare. Red and purple spots danced in front of her eyes. All she wanted to do was close them, but she wouldnt allow herself to give in to the wave of exhaustion sweeping over her until she was sure Benedict was gone. His form shadowed by the light, Winter watched Benedict a few feet away from her hesitate, torn between fighting and retreating. His face was a mask of fury and yes, fear as well. Eventually, he snarled at whoever stood behind her, turned and ran into the dark cemetery. Winter saw a burst of green fire in the distance and that was all. He was gone. She allowed herself to fall to the ground now, rolling onto her side towards the light. Her vision dimmed but not before she saw two figures approaching, the taller one holding what looked like a flare, the other brandishing a crossbow. Just like Sams. But it wasnt Sam. This figure was slighter . . . a woman. The couple approached Winter, the light grew brighter, but not bright enough to stop her slipping into unconsciousness.

Chapter 22

Winter dreamt, but her dreams were dark. There was nothing to see, only vague sensations (being lifted and carried), smells (aftershave at first, then later car leather) and sounds (voices speaking in another language Russian? A car engine starting, tyres crunching on gravel). In her dream there was no Benedict, no Sam, no Jasmine. No Blake. She was alone, but this didnt alarm her. Instead, it was a relief. She had only herself to worry about and noone to fear. It was with some reluctance that she groggily awoke an hour or so later, leaving the comforting nothingness of the void and returning to a wakeful state of confusion and uncertainty. Opening her eyes in a dimly lit room, her first thought was that everything that had happened in the cemetery had been part of her dream, that the jumbled collection of smells and sounds she remembered experiencing had only been the epilogue. It didnt take her very long to realise she was mistaken. Seconds really. For one thing, shed never seen this room before. She was lying on a pale blue, lumpy couch. A redshaded lamp glowed dully on a small table next to her head. In the back of her mind a memory ignited: waking up in a similar disorientated state in the Velasco Place three months ago. This room, however, was much more

welcoming than that chamber of shadows; very similar to her own living room in fact with its two couches, tall bookcase and television in the corner. Winter slowly sat up. Her head was pounding and her body felt bruised and battered, like shed just been thrown down a flight of stairs. Tentatively she touched her throat, wincing at the tenderness of it. Slowly her mind reconstructed the events that had led her here Sam, Morningside, Jasmine and Benedict, his burning lips pressed against hers. She shuddered at that part of the memory, still tasting his tongue in her mouth. At the last moment, shed been saved from Benedicts fatal kiss by a blinding white light. The people wielding this heavenly blaze were probably the ones whod brought her here. Where were they now? A familiar smell pricked her nostrils elderflower. She spotted a small clay oil burner standing on the coffee table, very similar to the ones Sam had deposited in her house. Grey smoke slowly drifted from it carrying the pungent scent of the oil. Whoever had brought her here clearly knew a thing or two about the Demori and how to keep them away.

Sam!
Winters heart jolted anxiously at the thought of him lying somewhere in the cemetery. Benedict or no Benedict she needed to get back there and help him. Standing too quickly, Winter felt the ground lurch dangerously beneath her. She gripped the armrest of the couch for support until the dizzy spell passed. There were two doors leading out of the room. She went to the first one and tried the handle. Dismayed to find it locked, she tried the other one. It too was locked. Frowning, she stepped back and considered the problem. Why would her saviours feel the need to lock up an unconscious girl? She now heard footsteps on the other side of the door coming towards her. Taking a few cautious steps backwards, Winter glanced around quickly for anything that might serve as a weapon. Just in case the situation called for it. The lamp would do. Moving to her left, she positioned herself within arms reach just as the door opened.

Winter was momentarily too stunned to speak. Dominic was standing there in the doorway. Lucys meek boyfriend, though there was something decidedly changed about him. He seemed to be standing taller, his shoulders back and chest pushed forward. Gone were the thick hornrimmed glasses and buttoned down white shirt, replaced with a clear-eyed stare and slim-fitting dark brown jumper that clung to his muscular physique. Good. Youre awake, he said, as though their meeting in this strange house had been prearranged. Dominic? What are you My name is Yuri Protevich, Winter. Not Dominic. Still struggling to accept the change in his appearance, Winters confused thoughts were sent into a deeper spin by this revelation. Yuri? I dont ? You have lots of questions, he said, calmly cutting her off. Come with me and Ill try my best to answer them. He stepped aside and gestured for her to enter the hallway with him. Winter hesitated a moment, unsure whether or not she could trust this man who was clearly much more than hed seemed. He even sounded different now, his accent falling away, revealing some kind of European lilt. Russian, she guessed from his name. Yuri smiled encouragingly at her and while she was still very muddled about the situation, the smile was enough for her to follow him. He closed the door behind her and gently led her into the hallway with its incongruous floral wallpaper, and down to another door which he pushed open, revealing a small kitchen. Stepping into the room, Winter was incredibly relieved to see Jasmine sitting at the round kitchen table, nursing what looked like a mug of hot chocolate. Win! She rushed towards Winter and threw her arms around her, nearly knocking her to the ground. Grinning weakly, Winter gently pried Jasmine off her. Hey, Jas. Jasmines face crinkled with concern. Are you okay? I was out cold so I didnt see what happened. Did that creep hurt you?

Winters relieved expression faltered as the image of Benedicts demonic smile momentarily flashed before her eyes. Ill live, she said, quickly composing herself. I think I need to sit down though. Her legs still felt less like muscle and bone and more like ice-cream, liable to melt away at any moment. Jasmine helped her to a seat at the table. Are you sure youre okay? I wanted to stay with you but he, she nodded derisively at Yuri standing in the doorway, wouldnt let me. Winter tried for a more reassuring smile this time. Dont worry, Im fine. You know me, Jas I dont break easily. How are you? Shed just noticed the ugly purple bruise below Jasmines right eye. Jasmine shrugged. My backs killing me from where I fell down, but its nothing a hot bath and a couple of painkillers wont cure. Your eye . . . Yeah, the prick got me a good one. But it looks much worse than it feels. Lucky we had our grad photos taken yesterday, huh? Can I get you a drink, Winter? Hot chocolate perhaps? I have marshmallows, Yuri asked, eyebrows raised hopefully. We have to go back for Sam, she said, ignoring his question. Hes hurt somewhere in the cemetery. Benedict Sams being taken care of, Yuri answered calmly as he moved to the fridge. You really should drink something. Perhaps some fruit juice instead of hot chocolate? You could do with the vitamin boost. What do you mean hes being taken care of? Winter demanded. Just that. His wounds are being tended to. There is no cause for concern. Frowning, she watched him take a bottle of tomato juice from the fridge and pour her a glass. By who? Whos taking care of him? My wife, Yuri replied, this statement rendering Winter momentarily speechless. Yuri was married?

He placed the juice in front of her and looked at her expectantly. Tomato juice is full of vitamin B. Look, I must be suffering some kind of concussion because nothing youre saying is making sense to me right now. Winter spoke slowly and carefully so there was no mistaking her. Please, Dominic Yuri whatever your name is, just tell me whats going on. Ive been asking the same thing for the last hour but he wont say anything! Jasmine said, picking her moment to chime in. He wouldnt let me call your sister. Or my mum. All hes done is freak me out. Keeps offering to make me drinks. And food. Yuri sighed wearily, his gaze flicking between the two girls. Drink your drink first and then Ill answer your questions. Now the glass was in front of her, Winter realised she was desperately thirsty, her throat dry as a dusty well. She picked up the glass and gulped the contents down quickly. Good girl. Ill pour you another. The Demoris kiss can leave one . . . depleted, Yuri said, taking the empty glass from her to refill it. Im sorry to have scared you both. You can call whoever you like. I just wanted us to have a talk first. To explain why Im here in Hagans Bluff . Yuri returned with a freshly filled glass, passed it to Winter and sat down. Youre obviously not a drug rep, she said, frowning over her drink at him. No, Im not, he replied, with a shake of his head. I came here for one reason, he said, his dark eyes holding hers. To watch you, Winter.

Chapter 23

Unsettled by his confession, Winter sipped her drink in silence, wary of revealing too much of her reaction. An instinct was telling her to play her cards close to her chest. At least until she figured out just who the hell Yuri was. Okay, she said, nodding slowly. You came here to watch me. Why? Studying her closely, gauging how his words affected her, Yuri continued, Three months ago we received a phone call from Caleb Bennet. The same night he . . . the night he passed. Involuntarily, Winters mouth dropped open in surprise. Youre with the Bane? An amused smile tugged at the corners of Yuris mouth. It never fails to make me feel like a character in a comic book when I hear that name spoken aloud, but yes I belong to the initiative you call the Bane, though we rarely refer to ourselves as such. To each other we are called Bonnaires, in honour of our matriarch and her family line. Matriarch . . . Winter remembered her conversation with Sam in Morningside. You work for Sams aunt? Yuri seemed surprised she knew this information. Yes. Her name is Magdalene Bonnaire. A great lady shes been the head of our operation in Europe for the past thirty years. Ever since Matthias, her father, passed away. There

was a plate of cookies sitting in the centre of the table. Freshly baked by the look of them. Yuri reached over and grabbed one, allowing Winter to mentally catch up. She stared at the beads of condensation rolling slowly down the side of her glass of juice, thinking about Yuris use of the word operation. An operation suggested many individuals working towards a common goal. All this time shed thought the Banes vendetta had been a deeply personal one Caleb trying to fulfil his great-great-grandfathers oath to destroy the son of Ariman, but her assumption had been wrong. Just as shed been wrong about Blake and Claudette being the only Demori. Winter was beginning to understand that the drama shed unwittingly become a part of was much more complex than shed realised. Yuri bit into the cookie. Chocolate chip. Delicious. His eyes sought Winters once more, shining with a shrewdness she didnt care much for. Magdalene was the one who sent Caleb to this country after Blake Duchamp. Hearing Yuri say Blakes name, Winter paled. He nodded, smiling knowingly. I thought that name might get your attention. Blake Duchamp, son of Ariman. Son of the First. His left eyebrow shot up quizzically. You were in the church too, werent you? When it all happened . . . Hey, pal! Ease off! Jasmine said, glaring across the table at Yuri. I didnt mean offence, Yuri said, holding up his hands in a gesture of innocence. Its fine, Jas. Winter nodded. I was there. As I was saying, Yuri continued, tactfully deciding not to dwell on the subject of Blake. We received a phone call from Caleb Bennet. A crazy, barely comprehensible phone call. I found her, he kept saying over and over again. I found her. He paused for emphasis. The Key. We were understandably sceptical. It had not been the first time hed made such a claim and been wrong. Caleb was always considered a little . . . erratic. Winter thought Yuri was being incredibly diplomatic. Insane is the word she wouldve chosen. She remembered

the mad glint in Calebs eyes as hed advanced towards her in the church, axe raised over his head, ready to cleave her in two. After his death, it was decided by Magdalene that we should investigate what hed told us. Just in case he was right. My wife and I were sent here to Hagans Bluff to track down the name Caleb had given us and acquire as much information as possible. That name was Winter Adams. Is that why you pretended to be my sisters boyfriend? Even though she was still reeling from everything shed learnt so far, she could feel the anger at this deception beginning to boil in the back of her mind. Her sister had been so happy these past few weeks the happiest shed been since before their parents death. Thinking of the crushing disappointment Lucy had in store for her made Winter mad. And for what? Just so this guy could spy on her? Yes. It was the only way I thought I could get close enough to observe you without arousing your suspicions. At least he had the good sense to look guilty. If he hadnt, Winters anger might have boiled over. I assure you I took no pleasure in using your sister in such a way. Shes a fine woman. You total bastard, Jasmine hissed, regarding Yuri coldly. Winter glanced across at her friend, and not for the first time, felt blessed to have Jasmine in her life. Yuri cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the critical appraisals Winter and Jasmine were giving him. I dont blame you for thinking badly of me. I did what I had to do, he hurried on, eager to leave the subject of Lucy behind. Originally my investigation was to take place over a number of months. During that time I was to infiltrate your family and gain your trust. Something happened last night though. Something I only learnt when I returned home this morning. We received word from Paris that there had been a breach The door to the kitchen swung open, distracting Yuri mid-sentence, and a goddess entered the room.

Chapter 24

Winter had never seen such a beautiful woman outside the pages of a fashion magazine. She was tall, almost the same height as Dominic, and had the kind of figure Winter had always dreamt about. And her face! Framed by short platinum blonde hair, the womans features were remarkable: golden skin, a shade darker than Jasmines; wide cheekbones perfectly defined; a small and narrow nose with a slightly regal tilt; dark pink cupids bow lips. But it was her eyes that struck Winter an almost iridescent aquamarine. The colour of swimming pools, sapphires, and early morning summer skies. Below her left eye there was a small, intricate tattoo that curled down over the top of her cheekbone. The tattoo did not mar her beauty, but instead made her look even more exotic. Curiously she wore gloves grey velvet, almost up to her elbows, despite the weather not really calling for it. Winter realised she was staring at the woman but couldnt look away. What was interesting was that the woman was staring just as fixedly at Winter. How is he? Yuri inquired, calling the womans attention away from her. Hell live. A broken arm and some bruised ribs. Ive given him some painkillers and told him to rest, but he asked to see the girl. Her accent was even more

pronounced than Yuris. Definitely Russian. The womans eyes flicked back to Winter. This is my wife, Elena, Yuri said, noticing Winters intrigued expression. Winter nodded. Hello. Nice to meet you, Elena replied. She said something in Russian to Yuri, who answered in kind. There was no mystery as to what their exchange was about. All the time Elenas eyes never left Winter. Ignoring this intense gaze, Winter turned to Yuri. Can I see Sam now? Yuri lent back in his chair and folded his arms. Not just yet. First, there is something we must discuss. Behind him, Elena lent against the kitchen counter, continuing her quiet study of Winter. If she wants to see Sam, let her see him, Jasmine said, her strong voice betraying the growing anxiety that Winter was also experiencing. Yuri ignored Jasmine, his attention focused entirely on Winter. Yesterday we received word from our Paris operation that they had intercepted a communication. A special kind of message transmitted not digitally or through analogue means, but through preternatural technology. Through a lodestone. Winter gasped. How could you possibly ? Yuri waved her question away before she could finish it. I have no interest in discussing our methodology with you. We know what happened, Winter. Approximately seven pm last night he contacted you through the lodestone. You interacted with him for nearly two minutes. The only information I need from you now is, what did you talk about? Shocked, Winter found it difficult to answer him straightaway. Winter, Yuri prompted, some of the hardness leaving his expression. Its very important you tell us what you know. It happened so fast. My necklace started glowing. I touched it and was . . . transported. I was seeing through his eyes. It was a dark place, there were candles, stone walls Blake was awfully thin. He looked like hed been

tortured. Then there was this other figure, in a red robe and hood. It hit Blake and then I was back on the beach again. Elena began to say something in Russian but Yuri silenced her, staring at Winter intently. Most interesting. What did he say to you? Blake. Before this other figure appeared. Winter felt her heart clench as she recalled the moment. The lack of recognition in Blakes eyes. Nothing. He didnt say anything. There was no time. Elena spoke again and this time Yuri answered her, their exchange maddeningly obtuse. You were in thrall to this Demori. This Blake. It was a statement, not a question. Winter stiffened. No, I was not in thrall to him. Now, if you dont mind Id like to check on my friend. Yuri nodded thoughtfully. Of course. Elena will show you the way. Can I make you some food, perhaps? For when you return. There was no sign of the interrogator now; his expression was disarmingly open and friendly. The speed with which hed shrugged off this role gave Winter even less reason to trust him. The man was clearly a master manipulator. Winter thought about Lucy last night, blushing as Yuri whispered into her ear, and felt another flash of anger. No thank you, she said brusquely and stood up, turning to Jasmine. Are you coming? Jasmine was already on her feet. Im not staying with these weirdos, she replied, not bothering to hide her mistrust. Elena opened the door for them, smiling a disquieting kind of half-smile that Winter didnt like. This way, she said, pointing down the hall back towards the living room. They took a turn to the left before reaching that room, and moved into another section of the house. The walls they passed were unadorned with photographs or pictures, however Winter did notice another oil burner on a hall table. By the strong scent of elderflower in the air she guessed there were others positioned throughout the house. Elena walked ahead of them, stopping when she reached one of doors towards the end of the house. She knocked once before opening the door and ushered

Jasmine and Winter through.

Chapter 25

Sam looked terrible. His face was puffy and bruised, his lips caked with dried blood. Someone Elena probably had put his right arm in a sling and bandaged his torso. There were more purplish bruises on his chest and stomach. Winter heard Jasmine gasp next to her, and only just managed to repress her own shocked reaction. At their entry his swollen eyes slowly fluttered open. He smiled at the sight of the two girls, though the action seemed to pain him. You survived, he rasped hoarsely. Dont look so surprised, Winter said as she approached the bed. She tried to return his smile, wanting to lift his spirits, not sink them by looking horrified at the sight of him. Unfortunately, she wasnt up to the task. Sams expression faltered. It looks bad doesnt it? Winter shrugged. Ive seen worse. I thought you were supposed to be this super-tough soldier boy. Guess I fooled you, he coughed, wincing as the spasm racked his body. Looking at Sams injuries, any lingering conflict she still felt about him faded. Her heart swelled with compassion for this poor boy whod been hurt trying to protect her. Sam nodded at Jasmine. Hey, Jas.

Jasmine hung back behind Winter. Sam, she replied a little cautiously. Despite his condition, she clearly wasnt ready yet to forgive the wrongs hed done to her in the past. The lies . . . Sam glanced at Elena, who had remained near the doorway watching the three of them. Do you think you could give us a second, Elena? Elena shook her head, replying in Russian. A flicker of annoyance passed over Sams bruised features and he snapped something back. Winter was silently impressed that Sam not only knew French but Russian as well. There was so much more to him than shed initially suspected. Elena retorted with something that sounded like a curse and then reluctantly stepped out into the hallway. After the door was closed Sam sighed deeply. Whats her problem? Winter asked, lowering her voice in case Elena was eavesdropping. Sam shrugged then winced in pain. Shes always been that way. Youve known her for a while? Of course, Sam replied, surprised she hadnt guessed this already. Shes been with Yuri as long as I can remember. What do we do now, Sam? Benedict got away. His expression darkened. I know. He jumped me the second I left the circle. Do we try again? Sam shook his head. No its too dangerous. Hell be expecting a trap now. He beckoned Winter closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. What have Yuri and Elena told you? Just that theyre with the Bane. They came here to study me or something. A small furrow appeared between Sams eyes. Did you tell them about what you saw last night? About Blake? Yes. Why? Was that wrong? she asked. Watching Sams reaction, Winter already regretted what shed revealed. How did Yuri react when you told him? Sam said, still speaking in that urgent, hushed manner.

Winter struggled to recall his reaction, trying to picture his expression. It hadnt been sceptical, just intrigued and maybe a little confused. I dont know. He just listened. Sam nodded thoughtfully. The small furrow between his eyes didnt disappear. It deepened if anything. Winter studied him as his mind ticked over. Am I in trouble, Sam? Can I trust these people? At that Sams eyes snapped to hers and she saw there was something of a conflict raging behind them. Trust your instincts, Winter. The door was abruptly opened behind them and Yuri strode in. I see the patient is recovering. While he smiled amicably enough, Yuris gaze remained coldly clinical, jumping between Winter and Sam as if he could tell what they had been talking about just by reading their expressions. Elena lent against the doorframe, smiling that troubling half-smile of hers again. Like she knew something Winter didnt. A dreadful secret. How are you, cousin? Mending. Thanks again for what you did, Sam said, seeming to shrink a little in the company of the older man. It was brave of you to go up against him alone, Yuri said, the trace of admiration in his voice unmistakable. Against training, but I suppose you didnt have much of a choice. He wasnt alone, Winter interjected. Yuri turned to her, one eyebrow raised. Of course not. Now, he clapped his hands lightly together, announcing his proposition. I think the safest thing would be for you to stay here tonight. The house is properly fortified and both Elena and myself are more than capable of protecting you. We cant leave? Jasmine said, a distinct edge in her voice. Yuri appeared mortified that shed jump to such a conclusion. You can youre not prisoners. You, especially can leave whenever you like, he added. I doubt Benedict cares much for you either way. Winter noticed Jasmine was a little miffed at the inference that she wasnt worth Benedicts time.

I suggest, Winter, you stay here, Yuri said, his expression serious. Call Lucy and perhaps tell her youre staying at Jasmines or some other believable lie. Youd know all about believable lies, Winter thought. But I can go if I want to? Yuris mouth tightened. Yes, but I wouldnt recommend it. Benedict has tasted you now, so will be even more driven to find you. You understand your unique quality, that of the Key is particularly Yes, I know. They cant get enough of me. Unfortunately, thats true. Winter felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, remembering the sensation of Benedicts feverish lips pressed against hers. The idea of spending the night in her bedroom alone, jumping at shadows was deeply unappealing. She glanced over at Sam, and he gave her a slight nod of encouragement. What had Sam said to her trust her instincts? Ill stay then. Despite her misgivings about Yuri and Elena it seemed this was the safest place for her right now. Especially with Sam in absolutely no condition to protect her. Yuri smiled in relief. Fantastic. Elena will make a bed for you in the living room. Jasmine stepped forward. Two beds, please. She smiled nervously at Winter. Im not letting you stay here by yourself. Winter could have told her shed be fine and didnt need her to stay, but it would have been a lie. Thanks, she said, shooting Jasmine a quick grateful smile. A flicker of annoyance passed over Yuris features. As you wish, he answered with forced politeness. Elena will see to your needs. Winter paused before leaving the room and turned to Sam, her brow crinkling. Are you going to be okay? Before Sam could reply, Yuri answered for him. What he needs more than anything right now is rest. He moved to usher Winter out into the hallway where Jasmine and Elena were waiting.

She glanced past him to Sam, his weak attempt at a smile giving her pause. Hes afraid of him, Winter thought, but before she could dwell on this Yuri was gently guiding her away. Dont worry. Ill look after him. We Bonnaires take care of our own, he said just before shutting the door, and while his expression was reassuring, there was an aspect to his tone that Winter didnt like. Something sinister. Frowning, Winter allowed herself to be led down the hallway.

We take care of our own.

Where had the Bonnaires been for the past three months while Sam was being hunted by the police? Clearly they and Winter had different interpretations of the word care.

Chapter 26

Winter lay awake listening to Jasmine snore softly beside her on the inflatable mattress. Even without the noise she doubted shed be able to sleep. Her mind whirred like crazy, jumping from subject to subject, keeping her on edge. She thought about Sam, his body broken because hed tried to protect her; Yuris lies and the heartbreak theyd cause Lucy; his wife Elena and her sapphire eyes that seemed to know too much. And Winter thought about Blake, always her thoughts returned to him. Shed hoped Jasmine might have stayed awake a little longer to keep her company, but as soon as theyd finished talking, her friend had rolled over and gone to sleep, eager to put this night behind her. Winter didnt blame Jas. She just wished she could do the same. Listening to the house sounds in the dark, it occurred to her that Jasmine hadnt asked a single question about Sam. Theyd discussed Blake, the lodestone, Benedict and Sidaris, the attack on the beach, but once the conversation had turned to Sam, Jasmine had been quick to steer it away. Whatever her feelings were, she was keeping them close to her chest for now. Sam had lied to Jasmine, in much the same way Yuri had tricked Lucy using her to get close to Winter and, therefore, Blake. She was entitled to bear him a grudge.

Feeling a little claustrophobic beneath the thick comforter Elena had given them, Winter kicked it off. The cloying scent of elderflower was getting to her too. Beneath the window, the oil burners tiny tea light flickered orange and yellow in the shadows. While she appreciated the protection it afforded, the fragrance was too much. What she needed was some fresh air. And maybe a mug of warm milk. The longer she thought about this idea, the more attractive it became. Warm milk had helped her sleep in the past, and even if it didnt tonight, getting up and making it would give her something to do. It certainly beat lying here, staring worriedly into the darkness. Winter rolled off the mattress and quietly pulled on her jeans. The house was silent as she passed through the hallway, the floorboards creaking faintly beneath her feet. Approaching Sams room, she considered checking in on him. However, as she placed her hand on the cool doorknob, a scattershot of burbled words gave her pause. Sam talking in his sleep. The poor guy had been through an ordeal tonight just thinking about his black and blue face made her wince. Let him rest. Stepping through the doorway, Winter didnt bother turning on the light. There was a dream-like blue wash spilling in through the window from the street lamps outside. As she walked across the chilly tiled floor, something through the window caught her eye. A flicker of movement. Winters heart froze in her chest. The front lawn of Yuri and Elenas house was full of cats. At least a hundred or so maybe more! Cats of all breeds and sizes, some wearing collars, others clearly feral, their mangy fur matted with dirt and leaves. It wasnt only the huge number of them that unnerved Winter, but their stillness. Put two cats near each other and they will invariably hiss and spit, but this small army, this clowder seemed unperturbed to be bunched together. They just sat there on the grass, tails swishing eerily in the night air, glowing eyes staring up at the house. It wasnt the first time shed seen such an unsettling sight. Three months ago her backyard had been plagued with a similar clowder of cats. Blake had sent them to protect her from the Skivers. Cats are friends to the

Demori, hed explained to her.

She knew why the cats were here. Not for protection but for surveillance. Intimidation. Benedict had sent them. Gulping nervously, she looked past the cats to the street beyond. Where was he? The cats master. Any second she expected to see a pair of green eyes glittering wickedly in the shadows. Spooky, isnt it? Winter jumped, whirling around to see Yuri sitting at the kitchen table. He was smoking a cigarette. The ember flared a brilliant crimson for a second as he inhaled. You scared me, she said, letting out a long, trembling breath. Im sorry. Yuri stubbed out the cigarette on a small china plate stained with ash and butts. I usually smoke outside but tonight I thought it would be safer if I stayed indoors. Do you know why the cats are here? Benedict sent them. Yes. He took out another cigarette and lit it, the lighter splashing the lower half of his face with a dirty orange glow. Id hoped he wouldnt be able to find us but the Demoris reach is long. I came in here about half an hour ago to get my lighter and thats when I saw them. Why are you sitting in the dark? He nodded at the window. I didnt want to risk stirring them up. Wait a minute. He stood and retrieved a small cylindrical object from one of the cupboards over the fridge. A candle. There, thats better, he said after lighting it. The candles weak flame conjured a small patch of the kitchen out of the murk. Yuri looked tired and older than his years in the flickering light. Can I get you anything? he said, keeping his voice low. Make you a sandwich or something? Youre probably still very weak. I was just going to grab a glass of milk. Sometimes it helps me relax. She didnt want to linger here with Yuri longer than she had to. The man made her uncomfortable, despite his repeated offers to make her food. Help yourself. In Stalingrad, my mother used to heat

milk over the stove when I was little and had a nightmare. I had lots of nightmares. She called it her dream potion. Said it would keep all the monsters out of my head. Did it work? Winter asked, pausing as she took the milk from the fridge. In a way, Yuri said, leaning back in his chair so his features were no longer clear in the candlelight. The monsters left my head but found me in the waking world. Found my mother as well. The Demori killed your mother? Yuri didnt respond straightaway, and when he did it wasnt to answer her question. I spoke to Sam about your Blake. No kidding? He is very clever this one, Winter thought as she took the milk from the fridge and poured herself a glass. He told me many interesting things. About a diary and a mad sister. It seems we might have been . . . hasty in condemning Blake. Maybe he wasnt what we thought he was. Winter nearly choked on her milk. Maybe? You guys hunted Blake his whole life, accused him of being a monster, murdered him for all intents and purposes and now you think you maybe had things wrong? Wow! She shook her head, marvelling at Yuris gall. Thank you. Ive just completely re-evaluated my opinion of the Bane. You really are the good guys. Calm down, Yuri said, lowering his voice in an effort to make Winter lower hers. She did so, begrudgingly, but her tone remained strident. Calm down? Blake was innocent! Innocent is a subjective term. A ghost of a smile twitched at the corner of Yuris lips. It was an unpleasant smile. Elena hates me smoking, he said, holding up the cigarette. Which is why I wait until she goes to sleep. I know its bad for me, but I cant help myself. I look at a cigarette and I just want one. My brain stops working properly. Sometimes were drawn to dangerous things, arent we? Winter stared levelly at Yuri, trying to figure out whether

he thought he was being subtle in the use of such a clumsy analogy, or if he was trying to provoke an angry reaction from her. She quickly decided it was probably the latter. Ill see you in the morning, Yuri, she said through gritted teeth. Wait, Yuri said, lightly taking hold of her arm before she left. Winter bristled at his touch. What? What if I told you I could help you see him again? Blake. She sighed, frustrated with his game playing. In one breath he insulted her, in the other he offered her false hope. Id probably think you were lying to me. Im not lying. He gestured to the seat opposite him. Please, sit down. Just give me a minute to explain. Winter hesitated. Trusting Yuri was a dangerous no, foolish proposition. Still, it was Blake. She couldnt turn her back on the chance that he was telling the truth. Reluctantly, she sat. Im listening, she said, watching him cautiously over the flame. Before you came in, Yuri began, slowly stubbing out his cigarette on the plate, I was sitting here thinking about what you told me tonight. About the lodestone and what it showed you. The vision. He paused, the hum of the fridge rushing in to fill the gaps between his words. I believe your Blake is alive in a place called the Dead Lands. Winter couldnt stop her eyes from widening as he voiced aloud her own intuition. I see the name is familiar to you, Yuri said, studying her reaction. I wasnt sure how much you knew. How can you be sure? Winter asked, declining to mention that not only had she heard of the Dead Lands, shed actually seen it with her own eyes. Yuri puffed his cheeks out thoughtfully. A simple process of elimination. Blake died in the church on the mountain. His body, as I understand it, was cremated. Correct? She nodded quickly, trying to ignore the twinge of pain in her chest.

Yet the lodestone showed him alive, Yuri continued. Such a miracle could only occur in the Dead Lands. Only the Malfaerie have that kind of power. But how ? I dont have any answers for you, Winter. Only theories. Our knowledge of the Dead Lands is painfully limited. You said you could help me. The Bonnaire family has been trying to mount an expedition to the Dead Lands for some time. We are at war with the Demori, Winter. We think the Dead Lands may hold secrets, secrets that, were we to discover them, might ensure our victory in the battle ahead. After all, knowledge is power, right? Winter shook her head, uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking. I dont want anything to do with your war. Yuri smiled again, that same annoyingly condescending smile. Of course you dont, my dear. But you do want your Blake back and we may be your only way of achieving this. He shrugged. You help us, we help you. How? How can I help you? I have no idea what youre talking about. She felt like she was missing some larger point. Have you ever heard of the Black Mirror? The name resonated with Winter but it took her a moment to remember where shed heard it. Of course the Velasco Place. Blake had told her about the Black Mirror and how it had been used by an oracle named Lamara to open a portal to the Dead Lands. Yes, she said, aware that her heartbeat had started to quicken. For the first time during their conversation, the possibility of seeing Blake again started to seem real. You know then of its power? Again, Winter nodded, impatient for him to continue. Maddeningly, Yuri paused, as though consciously prolonging the suspense. We have it. Unfortunately, we cant use it. The doorway is locked to us. We need a Key. We need you.

The Dead Lands

Entering the portal was like stepping into the gaping mouth of some great and terrible beast. Lamara was swallowed whole. The world fell away and for a second or two there was nothing but darkness. In this brief moment, she experienced terror unlike anything shed felt before. Spending eternity in this black, formless void had to be worse than death. Worse even than being taken up by Menmlok, Guardian of the Long Shadows. Then she saw light in the distance. A faint emerald light, pulsing with the rhythm of her heartbeat. Lamara pushed herself towards the light, swimming through the darkness as though it were water. But it was her mind not her arms and legs that propelled her forward. Only by concentrating on the light, could she move. It grew stronger, filling her vision. So brilliant that she was forced to close her eyes against it, but still the light bled through. Her skin began to tingle all over, followed by a tightening sensation, like she was being squeezed through a gap that was too small for her. Before it became painful, the tightness eased. The light blazed brighter than ever, filling her entire head and body, and then it dimmed, disappearing. Lamara felt the atmosphere change. It became lighter. A warm breeze kissed her face carrying with it a delicious

perfume unlike any flower shed ever held, yet vaguely familiar all the same. Still, it was with some hesitancy that she opened her eyes. With great relief, Lamara saw she was free of the darkness. Shed travelled through whatever space existed between worlds, and arrived . . . somewhere else. If this was the realm of the gods then it was not at all what shed expected. For one thing there didnt seem to be any ground. Suddenly she was falling. Falling towards a sea of grey clouds, rolling and churning far below. Amazingly, this prospect didnt alarm her. In fact, she could feel little except a lulling calmness. There was a smattering of emerald stars in the distance, winking against the blackness of the sky like unearthly campfires. A soft glow on the horizon this too, the emerald shade of the stars. As she squinted, searching for the sun or moon that gave off such luminescence, a huge shadow lurking just below the clouds drew her attention. What she first took to be the peak of a mountain broke through the misty surface. The closer she fell, the more obvious it became that this was no landmass, but a building of some kind. The top of a gargantuan tower, far larger than any structure shed ever seen before. In fact, her entire village would fit inside its circumference. Not only was it vast, it was alive with dazzling emerald lights, as though some of the stars had fallen from the sky and become embedded in its walls. Surely this was where the gods lived! The clouds rolled over the tower once more hiding it from sight. Lamara marked the place where the tower had been and by twisting her body angled towards it. She shot through the sky like a spear, plunging into the swirling vapour, losing herself in its grey heart. Immediately, Lamara became disorientated. There was no horizon, just thick, shadowy mist, lit intermittently by dazzling bursts of emerald light. This light fascinated Lamara. She had to find its source. The mists thinned and Lamara tumbled out on the

other side of the cloud sea. Fanning her arms, she righted herself, and realised shed been mistaken about the tower. It wasnt the dwelling place of the gods or not the sole dwelling place in any respect. She fell through a gap between five such towers and could see countless more not just towers, but other buildings and structures. They rose up all around, dwarfing her with their grandeur and magnitude. She was like a leaf, drifting on a breeze through an ancient forest, floating towards the ground. No, not floating. Falling. Tearing her eyes away from the wondrous towers, Lamara saw this strange world did have a ground and she was only seconds away from striking it. In the back of her mind there was an itch; an emotion struggling to register. Fear. The more she focused on this emotion, the less power the calming perfume held. Lamara started to panic, a soundless scream building in her throat. She was going to die. Was this what had happened to the old farseer? Hed travelled to this world only to fall to his death. Lamara closed her eyes as the ground approached and thought of her mother.

Im sorry. Im . . .
The sound of rushing air forced her to open her eyes again. She gasped as two strong arms wrapped tightly around her mid section, gently slowing her descent before, impossibly, guiding her upwards. Lamara was no longer falling she was flying. Flying towards the top of the nearest tower, by far the most ornate and magnificent of the structures she could see. Twisting in her saviours embrace, Lamara stared in shocked awe. A man held her. His face was pale, the colour of fresh snow with a slightly blue tint. His features were perfectly sculpted if delicate as though the best of both man and woman had been combined together. Save for his eyebrows and the thick black waves that blew back from his brow, his face was free of hair. The flying mans skin looked inhumanly smooth and hard, like a stone one might find on a riverbed. Lamara opened her mouth and asked, Are you a

god? Her voice was barely a whisper, the words being snatched away before they even left her lips. Still, he seemed to hear her for a slight smile curled the corners of his dark lips. He glanced down at her with eyes that glittered like the emerald stars far above. I am, Lamara of the Grey Wolves, she heard him answer, his deep voice echoing through her mind in a language she didnt understand but did.

You will call me Elumen Var.

Elumen Var? Her people had never spoken of a god with such a name but if this being was not a god then what was he? Lamara stared into the gods eyes trying to accept the miracle. Shed succeeded, crossed over from one world to the next. Still, even in these extraordinary circumstances, her mind reeling with everything her wideeyed stare could drink in, doubt lurked. It was her heart where the doubt originated. Shouldnt she feel exalted in the presence of a divine being? Her soul suffused with religious awe? It was the gods eyes that troubled her. A strange expression shed noticed there hunger sharpened by a wicked delight, like a starving wolf finding a stray lamb. As they soared ever closer to the top of the nearest tower, a dreadful realisation began to form. Something terrible was going to happen to her.

Chapter 27

Lucy watched from the doorway as Winter moved about her room, throwing clothes haphazardly into the open suitcase lying on her bed. Though it wasnt yet noon, Winter was acutely aware of the suns progression across the sky, could almost see the shadows on the floor shift with the passing of time. Night was coming. And so was Benedict. So, where are you staying again? Lucy asked, doing her best to keep her tone conversational. Monicas beach house, Winter replied, shooing away Nefertem, who seemed determined to get in her way. And Monica is . . . ? Winter sighed at her sisters feigned obtuseness. Theyd already been through this. Jasmines cousin. Shed spent the morning crafting an elaborate lie to cover the fact she was leaving with Yuri today. Lucy was far too suspicious to accept just any old flimsy excuse, so Winter had been careful to add embellishments to the lie. Little details that would sell the false reality. She and Jasmine were driving down to Jerusalem Bay to spend a week at Monicas beach house with a group of friends. Monica was Jasmines older cousin. Shed made a lot of money importing beads from South America which she used to construct colourful necklaces. Monica then sold these necklaces on the internet and with the profits had

bought the beach house. The friends that were sharing the house with them were Sally Cruthers, Debbie Law and Jennifer Worshkowski. No boys were invited. Shed made sure to emphasise this part of the story. Going over the details in her head, Winter was confident that, short of the longitude and latitude of Monicas imaginary beach house, she was prepared for any question Lucy might shoot at her. Which is why she was so surprised when Lucy hadnt really asked any. Not difficult questions in any case. Is this Monica a good girl? Shes got her head screwed on straight? Winter was almost comforted by the question; it threw their relationship back into a dynamic she was familiar with Lucy as the overprotective mother hen, Winter as the wayward chick. Her sister treating her like an equal like an adult no less made her feel a little uneasy. Im not entirely sure but I think she may be a nun, Winter said with a straight face. Lucy pursed her lips in disapproval. Very funny. I dont know how Im going to get by without your sparkling wit. Itll be tough. Do you want the address of the beach house? She had it already in mind number ten Saltwater Drive. Winter didnt know if the short coastal street shed looked up in Google Maps went to ten but was gambling on the fact that Lucy wouldnt use the address for anything other than peace of mind. Lucy shook her head. No, maybe just give me a call when you get down there? Will do, Winter said, throwing the last of her clothes into the suitcase. Before closing it, she slipped in Blakes diary and Sams notebook. Yuri had told her to pack light, but there was no way she was leaving the books behind. You all done then? Lucy asked, and Winter sensed it was taking a lot of effort for her sister not to question her further. This wasnt easy for Lucy. Yeah, Jas should be coming by soon to pick me up. I should go wait for her. Nefertem was rubbing against Winters legs, desperate for her attention. She crouched down and scratched him lightly behind his head, silently

communicating her goodbye while she stared into the tabbys sleepy brown eyes. Make sure you remember to feed Nef. There should be plenty of cans in the cupboard. I wont forget. I fed you for the past nine months didnt I? Winter straightened, keeping the sarcastic comment about Lucys cooking trapped safely behind her smile. Looking at her sisters tense expression, she realised this was the first time since their parents funeral that they were going to be separated from each other for an extended period of time. Shed told Lucy a week but the truth was she didnt know how long shed be with the Bane. The length of her stay was one of the only things she and Yuri hadnt discussed last night when theyd hashed out the details of the arrangement. What are you going to do with yourself? she asked, unable to keep the genuine note of concern out of her voice. Lucy shrugged and forced a smile. Dont worry about me Ive got lots of stuff planned. Noting Winters raised eyebrows, she added in mock outrage, I do! Besides, Ill have Dominic. Im actually looking forward to getting rid of you for a couple of days. Unable to help herself, Winter put her bag down and gave Lucy a warm hug. I love you, Luce. The phrase escaped her lips before shed even had time to think about it. Lucy laughed a little in surprise. I love you too, you big dummy! They disengaged, and something about Winters expression must have keyed Lucy in to what she was feeling. What is it? Do you really like Dominic? she asked, hoping for a different answer than the one she feared was about to come out of her sisters mouth. I do. Its early days, but I feel good about where things are going. Its been so long, you know, since Ive had someone. A boyfriend. It still feels weird to say. Dont you like him?

Worried her voice might betray her, Winter merely shook her head. Lucys frown deepened. Really? I thought you two were getting along. Winter shrugged, bottling up her emotions as best she could. I just think you can do better. Lucy relaxed, the wrinkles of concern smoothing around her eyes and brow. Protective little sis, huh? Something like that. She wanted to tell Lucy that Yuri was no good for her, to spare her in some way from the disappointment that was coming, but how could she without revealing the whole sordid situation? She didnt want Lucy feeling like a fool. Luckily, a cheerful beep from outside signalled the arrival of Jasmine and Winters excuse to leave. You better get going, Lucy said as Winter picked up her case once more. Give me a call at some point. Or text me. Just so I know youre safe. Safe. Shed been so concerned with Blakes predicament that she hadnt really spared too much thought for her own safety, and just how treacherous the territory she was about to enter might be. Winters hand stole quickly to the lodestone beneath her top. She smiled at Lucy, hoping her expression appeared more confident than she felt. You bet. Nefertem ran ahead of her, blocking the doorway. Winter suspected that the cat knew where she was going. And the company shed be keeping. The same people who had murdered his brothers and sisters in the Velasco Place. The horn beeped again and Winter stepped over Nefertem, not able to meet the cats reproachful gaze.

Chapter 28

Lucys juddering reflection, her arm waving a little too vigorously, diminished as they left the house behind. Watching her sister disappear, Winter was struck with a disturbing intuition she was never going to see Lucy again. She forced this possibility from her mind, told herself it was caused by anxiety and nothing else. So she bought the story? Jasmine said, glancing across at her. Cousin Monica? The beach house? All that crap. Yeah. Surprisingly. Winter ignored Jasmines sarcastic tone, just grateful she was speaking to her again. Jas hadnt taken the news of Winters bargain with Yuri well, reacting first with shouts of outrage, and when that failed to change Winters mind, shed lapsed into a brooding silence that was, in some ways, worse than the yelling. Are you going to cover for me? she ventured hesitantly as they turned onto the main drag. Jasmine exhaled noisily. What choice do I have? You dont have to do any Yes, I do. Winter tried to catch Jasmines eye. Thanks. Whatever. She didnt dare say anything else. Hopefully, the Jasmine storm would pass by the time they reached

Yuris. When her friend was angry, she was angry, but her furies were quick to burn themselves out. They drove in tense silence for a while before Jasmine broke it, asking, Did you tell Lucy about Yuri? How hes been lying to her. How hes married. Winter bit her lip. The situation was a sore spot for her. Of course not. What good would that do? Whens he going to do it? Break it off with her. Tomorrow, she said, trying not to think of Lucys expression when Yuri told her he was leaving. You must feel pretty rotten, Jasmine said. Leaving your sister at such a low point. Winter frowned at Jasmine. Geez, Jas, could you try and make me feel any worse? Jasmine shrugged, keeping her attention on the road. The car suddenly felt very hot. They were coming up to a set of traffic lights, which had just turned red. The Mini Cooper slowed behind a pick-up truck laden with paint cans. Winter started idly counting the cans while she waited, trying not to let Jasmines words upset her. Im just saying, if it was my sister Look, I know what youre trying to do, Winter was beginning to lose her patience with Jasmines affected righteousness. You dont want me to go I get that. But youre not going to change my mind. Were talking about Blake here, Jas! Yuri might be my only chance of saving him. I know the risks Do you? Jasmine stared at Winter, and for the first time she realised her friend wasnt angry because she thought she was an idiot. Jasmines anger came from fear. Fear for her. These people, Win. Theyre gonna use you. I know, but Listen to me, Jasmine interrupted, needing to say her piece. I know youre not dumb. But this whole Blake situation has messed with your head. Youre getting on a plane with this Yuri guy, the dirtbag whos been lying to your sister, flying to Paris to open some kind of portal to another dimension cause that sounds safe and all because he promised to help you bring Blake back from the dead? Its crazy, Win. And even if its not crazy and he somehow does

have the ability to find Blake whos to say he will? Whos to say after you give him what he wants Yuri will follow through on the agreement? Whats in it for him and the Bane? These guys are all about killing things like Blake. And now theyre gonna rescue him? Let him go free? Cmon, Win, youve gotta see how nuts this is. The lights changed but Jasmine didnt touch the wheel. She just watched Winter with that same frightened expression. Everything shed said was true. Winter couldnt think of a decent counter argument and even if she could she doubted shed convince Jasmine. People started honking their horns behind them, growing irritated at the hold-up. Lets go, Jas. Jasmine sighed wearily and gripped the wheel. This whole situation just makes me feel sick. Winter stared ahead, not seeing the road or the cars or the town. Only Blakes ravaged features, his haunted eyes. If there was another way, Id take it. Believe me I would. As they passed through the intersection, Jasmine said quietly, I wish we really were going to a beach house somewhere. Winter smiled sadly. Me too.

Chapter 29

Sams battered green station wagon was parked in Yuris driveway as they pulled up. Jasmine switched off the engine just as Sam emerged from the house carrying his duffle bag with his free hand. The other was hoisted in a sling. If it wasnt for the injured arm and the hesitant but familiar grin he flashed when he saw them, Winter might not have recognised him. Sam had died his blond hair jet black. She watched him lug the bag towards the car, marvelling at how a change in hair colour could make someone look so dramatically different. I guess this is goodbye then, Jasmine said, calling Winters attention away from Sam. Ill ring you once were over there. Maybe I can bring you back something from Paris? A beret? she said, hoping to coax one of Jasmines sunny smiles. It didnt work. Just keep safe. Keep your head down and stay close to Sam, Jasmine said, tilting her head towards him. Only Sams muscular back was currently visible as he lent into the car. The advice caught Winter a little off guard. I thought you didnt trust him? Jasmines gaze narrowed as she stared at the boy

whod broken her heart. Im not sure I do. I still remember what his brother, Damien, did to me on the mountain. Getting into my brain like that, making me tell him you were headed to the church. It was awful. I want to hate Sam because he let them do that to me. And also because he used me, pretended to care just to get close to you. I dont know if thats true, Jas. Sam didnt see Blake until that night in the surf club. He didnt know I was with him before then. Maybe it was all just a . . . coincidence? This was a bit of a stretch and she knew it. Winter remembered Sams keen interest in meeting the mysterious Blake days before they actually came face to face. Why did she feel the need to defend him? Jasmine waved her explanation away. Whatever. I understand he saved your life on the beach and all, but that doesnt change what he did. He lied to me. She exhaled in consternation as though battling with herself. But I guess that doesnt mean hes evil or anything. Not like Caleb anyway. I think hell try to protect you if he can. I saw the way he talked to you in the room. The concern. That was real. Yuri and that freaky Eurotrash chick though . . . The front door opened and Yuri walked out nursing a cup of coffee and holding a suitcase. He raised the coffee in greeting at the two girls, all smiles and good-natured cheer. Jasmine was right. There was something off about Yuri. When he smiled, it was as if somebody was working his mouth like a ventriloquist dummy. It was a mechanical gesture; an imitation of human emotion. He gives me the creeps. Jasmine took Winters hand. Just promise me you wont do anything stupid. I mean more stupid than what youre already doing. Winter gave her a tight hug. Dont worry about me, Jas. Im going to be fine. Im tough, remember? Jasmine didnt look convinced. Shaking her head, she started the engine. Winter reached over and grabbed her bag. As she closed the door, Jasmine surprised her by saying, See you soon, Win, with such a pronounced note of certainty that Winter immediately felt a little bit better

about their parting. Definitely, she said, smiling at her friends optimism and hoping it wasnt put on. Jasmine nodded and accelerated away, but not before Winter caught the furtiveness in her eyes. Shed seen similar looks before usually when Jasmine was planning to do something mischievous. Like set Winter up with some poor unsuspecting boy. Her brow furrowed, Winter watched the Mini Cooper turn the corner and disappear. What was Jasmine planning this time? All packed and ready to go? Yuri asked, coming up behind her. Yep. Got your passport? For a moment Winters heart stopped beating and then she remembered slipping the passport into the front pocket of her bag. Sure do. When do we leave? She still couldnt believe shed soon be on a plane travelling to Europe, compliments of the Bane. The idea seemed surreal. Soon as possible. Yuri shielded his eyes with his hand, squinting past Winter at the sky. Were burning daylight. Winter followed his gaze and saw the sun was almost kissing the top of Owl Mountain. Before long, it would sink behind the hulking landmass throwing part of Hagans Bluff into shadow. Winter knew better than most how dangerous shadows could be. The sooner they were away from this town the better. Sam limped towards them. He seemed different to Winter . . . lighter somehow. She realised quickly what the difference was despite his bruised cheekbones and cracked, bloodied lips, Sam looked happier than shed ever seen him. Hey, Win, did Yuri tell you the news? Perplexed, she shot Yuri a look. He shrugged nonchalantly, as though unwilling to spoil the surprise. No, she said cautiously. What news would this be? Yuris fixed it so I can return to France. Im coming with you. Sams features relaxed into a smile that was so sunny

Winter couldnt help but mirror it. Thats fantastic! No wonder he looked so happy and relieved. Her smile faltered as she foresaw a problem. What about the whole wanted for murder thing? I cant imagine theyre gonna just let you hop on a plane. Weve already put in the request for the necessary documents that should see him safely through border control, Yuri said in a confidently reassuring tone. Luckily, the Bonnaires have some very powerful friends. Wow, Winter thought, deeply impressed. She didnt think it would be easy to smuggle a suspected murderer out of the country. Let me take that for you, Sam said, reaching with his good hand for Winters suitcase. She hesitated, glancing at his wounded arm. Are you sure? Its pretty heavy. I can handle it, Sam replied, grinning ruefully. Im not a cripple. Winter shrugged and handed him the bag. She saw the slight grimace as the weight dragged his left arm down, putting pressure on his cracked ribs, but Sam didnt say anything. Nice hair by the way. She nodded towards his raven locks. Elena did it this morning. I figured with my picture being all over the newspaper and TV it might be smart not to look so much like myself. Winter remembered the image the media had used of Sam short blond hair, moody expression. In the picture, he looked a little like Eminem. Nothing like he did now. With his long black hair hanging over his eyes, fine stubble dusting his chin and jawline, Sam resembled a grunge guitarist rather than a gangsta rapper. It suits you, Winter said, meaning it. You should keep it dark. Sam glanced up at her from beneath his eyebrows, trying to figure out whether or not she was teasing him. Satisfied she wasnt, he blushed slightly and looked away. Ill put this in the car. Winter watched him go, his blush making her feel a

little embarrassed too. So, Yuri said, clearing his throat. Heres the plan. Elena will drive you to Newbury tonight. It should take a little over sixteen hours so youll arrive just before daybreak. Were driving through the night? Yuris expression grew serious. I think thats the safest option. Benedict will find it harder to locate you while youre moving. Itll also make it difficult for him to mount an attack should he somehow pick up your trail. If you say so. Noticing her apprehension, he smiled one of his quick mechanical smiles. Theres no reason to be scared. Sam and Elena are very experienced in this sort of thing. Theyll look after you. Winters gaze drifted to the car and she wondered just how effective Sam could be with only one arm. Ive booked you into the airport hotel so you can get some sleep during the day. Your flights at four-thirty tomorrow afternoon. Ill be catching the train down in the morning, after I tie up all the loose ends here, and will fly out after you. By loose ends you mean my sister? Winter raised an eyebrow. Dont worry, Yuri said, looking at her with what she hoped was sincerity. Ill treat her with the utmost sensitivity. Just like we discussed. During their long and involved discussion last night, Winter had quizzed Yuri on how he planned to handle the Lucy situation. Initially, he proposed that he just disappear and spare her sister an awkward and potentially painful break-up scene. This suggestion didnt take with Winter. She knew the importance of closure. If Yuri upped and vanished without a word, Lucy would be left wondering what happened to him. The wound left by his absence might be small, after all they hadnt spent that long together (a fact Yuri was quick to point out), but without closure, it might never heal, troubling Lucy indefinitely. No, Winter decided emphatically, he had to give her a valid reason for his departure from her life. Youll tell her

That Im leaving for Europe to care for my dying mother, and I dont know when, if ever, Ill be able to return. And . . . Winter prompted, making sure he didnt leave out the crucial next part to the story. And, these past few weeks weve spent together have been some of the happiest Ive ever had. Im heartbroken we wont have a future together but Im grateful she was part of my life. If only briefly. Yuri looked to Winter for approval, eyebrows raised hopefully. She nodded, feeling a conflicting mix of shame and pride. Shame that she was complicit in her sisters heartache, and pride that shed helped create such a sensitive and moving farewell scene. It was a lie, but a kind lie. She only hoped Yuri was a good enough actor to pull it off. The front door banged open behind them and Elena strode out. She was dressed in jeans and a form-fitting dark brown soft leather coat with matching gloves. Winter suspected the long gloves werent a mere fashion quirk. Elena was hiding her hands for some reason. We should be leaving, Elena said, her thick Russian accent lending her words a commanding bluntness. Her sapphire eyes flicked from Winter to Yuri, a flash of irritation clearly visible. They hadnt been discussing Lucy loudly but she had the impression that Elena had overheard. Not for the first time Winter wondered what sort of woman would be happy with her husband seducing another to gather information. Winter certainly wouldnt be capable of it. Okay then, Yuri said, seeming to fade a little beneath his wifes penetrating gaze. Lets get a move on. The three of them walked towards the car where Sam was waiting. The front seat is all yours, he said, opening the door for Winter. I dont mind sitting in the back. Usually, she would have preferred to sit up front, but she didnt relish spending sixteen hours next to the Russian Ice Queen. Its cool, Sam said. I need to stretch out and get some sleep anyway. The painkillers Im on are intense. Kind of awesome actually. Until they wear off.

She noticed now that his eyes did have a faintly glazed expression. Sam closed the door and slid in behind her, squeezing his lanky frame in between the luggage. Jas didnt want to say goodbye? he asked tentatively. No, she said, thinking again of the her friends suspicious behaviour. She had something to do.

Something . . .
Sam was quiet for a moment and then said, She hates me doesnt she? Pretty much. Fair enough, he said with a regretful sigh. Winter watched Elena and Yuri whispering to each other in Russian, trying to ignore the paranoid thoughts that buzzed through her mind. Just because they were speaking in Russian didnt mean they were discussing her. It was their mother tongue they were probably using it to disguise the kind of intimate sentiments usually reserved for a husband and wife about to be separated. Lending weight to this theory, Elena now reached up bringing Yuris mouth down to hers in an urgent kiss. After only a few seconds, Yuri gently pushed her away, his face crimson with embarrassment. He shot a glance back at the car and Winter pretended she hadnt been watching. Keeping her gaze averted, she heard Elenas footsteps on the driveway as she circled around to the drivers side. The springs of the seat squeaked as she sat down and Winter stole a look at her. Elenas expression was unreadable. Keying the ignition, she said without facing her, I hope you went to the bathroom because we will not be stopping. Im all good, Winter replied, unsure whether or not Elena was trying to be funny. There didnt seem to be any hint of humour in the womans coldly beautiful features. As they backed down the driveway, she dared a look back at Sam, arching her right eyebrow quizzically. He shrugged in response, seeming to find Elenas hostility towards Winter amusing. She sighed. This was going to be a long journey. Put on your seatbelt, Elena said, jerking the car into gear. She only had a second to comply before Elena

stamped down the accelerator, pinning Winter to her seat. Soon they were careening through the heart of town towards Owl Mountain and the exit to the freeway. Just as Winter was beginning to think that Benedict might be the lesser danger when compared to Elenas reckless driving, she happened to look up and notice the position of the sun. In the brief time theyd stood talking on the front lawn, the sun had drifted further towards the mountain. It seemed eager to be hidden from sight, sinking quickly. Too quickly.

Chapter 30

Illuminated by the twin headlights, the road flowed out of the night and beneath their car, twisting and turning like a grey river. The last car Winter had seen passed them more than half an hour ago and since then theyd travelled this route alone. Through the passenger window, black hills swelled against the starry sky. There were no house lights to be seen, no glow of civilisation on the horizon. No signs of life. Just a queasy darkness that seemed eager to push up against the car windows and steal inside. Winter had no idea where they were, and only the vaguest sense that they were travelling east, away from the ocean. Theyd pulled off the freeway just before Shereneck after glimpsing an ominous trail of red tail-lights receding into the distance ahead of them. Scanning the radio, theyd caught a news broadcast announcing the details of an accident further along the freeway. A semi-trailer had jackknifed, spilling its goods (non-toxic apparently) across all four lanes and bringing traffic to a halt. It might be hours before the lanes would open up again. Luckily, there was an exit before they hit the bulk of the traffic and Elena had made the executive decision to take it, estimating it would be quicker to detour through the country and join the freeway later on, rather than risk sitting in traffic for the next couple of hours. It seemed like a logical

choice at the time, though now they were far away from the hum of the freeway and the company of other cars, Winter felt uneasy. This dark road could be leading them anywhere. Elena seemed confident she knew where it was taking them, but she was a foreigner and hadnt once stopped to refer to a map. Winter hoped Elenas internal compass was better than her own. In the backseat, Sam continued to snore softly. Hed fallen asleep shortly after they hit the freeway. One minute hed been sitting up straight, talking about the last time hed seen his aunt five years ago and the next he was sprawled out over the two seats, head lolling against the window, a trickle of drool running from the corner of his mouth. You read about the creature, yes? Yuri told me of his diary, Elena said, abruptly breaking the silence and gesturing to Sams notebook lying on her lap. Winter had only glanced cursorily at the book, unable to concentrate because of her anxiety. His name is Blake. Elena glanced at her from the corner of her eye. In the blue dashboard glow her tattoo looked like a spidery black tear stain. You cared for him. It wasnt a question. Its none of your business, Winter answered stiffly. Elenas left eyebrow lifted slightly. Here you are putting yourself in the hands of those you dont trust. Travelling halfway round the world, facing a danger you cant possibly comprehend. And for what? For love? The scornful way Elena phrased the last bit infuriated Winter even more. She was about snap back when she realised that this was precisely what Elena was trying to do. Just like Yuri, she was enjoying goading her into an argument. Instead, Winter said quietly, Yes. Elenas arched eyebrow relaxed and the woman adopted a thoughtful expression. You are not the first to fall in love with a Dark Traveller. They have a . . . glamour about them that is difficult to resist. It was now Winters turn to look at her curiously. You sound like youre speaking from experience.

A small frown creased Elenas forehead, a single line marring her perfect face. There was a time when I thought I loved a man. Stephan. He came to my village as a teacher. He was tall and had long black hair down to his shoulders. Like a girl. A beautiful girl. Except for his mouth which was strong. He was a Demori? Winter prompted when Elena stopped. She was much less irritated at Elenas sardonic nature now, the womans story was too intriguing. He had green eyes. Unlike anything Id ever seen before. I looked into those eyes and I was gone. Lost. Winter knew the feeling well. Remembering that first day shed lain in Blakes arms in the church clearing, she felt a wave of heat suffuse her body and was grateful the weak dashboard light hid her face. He courted me for two weeks, Elena continued, her tone hardening. A game they like to play. There is no sport in a kill without seduction. She glanced over again. Winter kept her expression neutral, not letting Elenas words provoke a reaction. Sam stirred, mumbling something unintelligible. Both of them waited to see if he would wake up and when he didnt Elena resumed speaking. One day Stephan took me to a spot outside of town. Near a lake. A surprise picnic. Foolishly, I thought he meant to propose to me. Only two weeks and I was ready to be his forever. No, I lie, she paused, a humourless smile twitching the corner of her mouth. I was his from the first day. The first minute. The first moment those eyes found mine. She fell silent, drifting on the currents of memory. He would have had me then, taken my life, taken my soul, if it werent for Yuri. Hed been following us, following Stephan anyway. Yuri and the Bonnaires saved me. Winter wasnt so sure about that, but kept her misgivings to herself. At least she now understood the nature of Yuri and Elenas relationship. Hed saved her life and shed rewarded him with love. Or if not love then enough gratitude to be his wife. Either way the bond between them had been cemented with the death of a Demori.

Your tattoo, Winter said, taking advantage of the small crack in Elenas icy faade to ask a question that had been plaguing her since theyd first met. What does it mean? Elenas eyes, which had clouded over at the memory of Stephan, suddenly grew clear again. Her expression hardened. It is not a tattoo. These are She broke off, distracted by something on the road. What is that?

Chapter 31

Following Elenas frown, Winter only just caught the streak of white as it flew through the darkness ahead. A rabbit, perhaps? No, it was far too big to be a rabbit. It looked like a another animal darted through the glow of the headlights, cat, she finished, breaking out in goosebumps. Something was wrong. One cat running across a deserted road in the middle of nowhere might not have been weird, but two? She was about to warn Elena when another cat materialised out of the darkness, this one alarmingly close. No! Winter cried out as Elena wrenched the car to the left, swerving away from the cat and sending them off the gravel onto the grass shoulder. Winter was thrown painfully forwards then backwards, the seatbelt biting into her chest before the station wagon skidded to a juddering halt. A troubling ticking sound came from the engine. Is everyone okay? Her heart was pounding and there was an acid taste in the back of her mouth, but she wasnt badly hurt. Elena was pressing her right palm tightly against her forehead, her gaze a little unfocused. At some point her head must have hit the steering wheel. I . . . yes. Im okay, Elena answered, her voice trembling.

Is the car damaged? Even in her semi-shocked state, Winter knew they should be moving. As long as they stayed motionless, danger threatened. She could feel this danger gathering strength in the air about them, like a storm ready to erupt. Elena shook her head. No. I think I think the immobiliser cut the engine when the keys were knocked loose. Winter didnt know what an immobiliser was but hoped Elena was right. What the hell happened? Sam said groggily from the back. Winter swivelled in her seat, wincing as her neck muscles twanged, a result of the whiplash. Sam was blinking at her in confusion, rubbing his broken arm with his left hand. Are you hurt? Sam nodded with a half-smile. I think I broke my arm. Winter relaxed a little. If he could joke he couldnt be too badly injured. Did you see them? Elena asked her. The cats? Winter didnt like her dazed expression. How hard had she hit her head? Yes, I saw them, she answered slowly but firmly so Elena would understand the urgency in her tone. Dont worry about the cats. We have to get going. Now. Can you drive? It took Elena a few seconds longer before the fog finally left her eyes. Yes yes, of course. We must keep going. Whats the matter, Win? Sam asked, worry creeping into his tone. We saw . . . she began to answer him but trailed off when his face paled. Sam? Whats going Her blood ran cold as a shadow skittered across his face. Whirling around, Winter saw a cat on the bonnet of the station wagon. Not just one two. Now three. Four! More cats joined the group, a steady stream, materialising out of the long grass. Start the car, Winter said too loudly. Why hadnt they driven away by now? In her periphery, she noticed Elena

fumbling around. The keys! she cried out in frustration. They fell to the floor. I cant ! Find them quickly! Winter impulsively moved back in her seat away from the windshield. The entire bonnet now groaned beneath the weight of a dozen or so cats, with still more heaped on top, crawling over their brothers and sisters in an effort to get closer to the glass. Above them the ceiling thumped a small depression forming. They were on top of the car! Glancing fearfully out the window she saw more cats circling past the front wheels. The air rang with their whining, broken voices, rising in pitch as the cats grew more agitated. They wanted to get inside. Got them! Elena said triumphantly, raising her head from the car floor. Her face fell when she saw the cats squashed up against the glass, a seething mass of fur and claws and shining eyes. There was a cracking sound as the windshield began to yield to the weight of the animals. Jagged lines etched their way down from the corners. Just drive already! Sam shouted. Winter heard him scrabbling around in his duffle bag, followed by the sound of the crossbow clicking as he loaded. Ill hurt them, Elena protested, the note of genuine concern in her voice baffling. The idea of running over a bunch of cats made Winters stomach turn, but the situation was dangerous and they needed to escape. I dont care! Squash em! Sam clearly shared her self-preservation instinct. There is another way, Elena said with quiet confidence. Confused, Winter watched Elena close her eyes. After a few seconds she opened them again, staring at the cats through the windshield with a startling new intensity. What was especially odd, the cats the ones whose heads were visible amidst the tangled limbs and swishing tails stared back. Held in Elenas gaze, the twitching mass grew still. Multiple pairs of glinting eyes rolled towards Elena in unison. She began to murmur in Russian, words Winter didnt understand but they affected her all the

same. The words twisted inside her mind like snakes, making her feel dizzy. Sam cried out, Whatever youre doing, do it faster! Tearing her gaze away from Elena, Winter looked back and gasped. Benedict had arrived. He was standing further down the road, staring at them through the rear windows dustcovered glass. A slow smile spread across his face as he watched Sam frantically try to manoeuvre himself into a firing position. The Demoris shining emerald eyes darted from Sam to Winter, and his smile faded. Benedicts expression became animated with a frightening, animalistic hunger. Trapped in his gaze, Winter heard his voice in her head, whispering the promise, You will be mine. Slowly, Benedict began to approach the car, taking his time, savouring the kill. Winter turned to Elena in a panic, ready to rip the keys from her hand and take the wheel. But she froze in shock something astonishing was happening. The cats were leaving. The heaving pile of fur and claws dissolved before her eyes as the cats leapt and scurried away from the windshield and off the bonnet. Elena started the car as the last cat jumped free. Go! Go! Sam urged. Her heart in her mouth, Winter looked back and saw Benedict almost at the car. A deep frown marred his features now he saw they were about to escape. He launched into a run, his body splashed with a red glow as the brake lights flicked on. The engine roared into life and the car lurched forward, tyres kicking up dirt. Elena frantically spun the steering wheel, driving them back onto the road. There was no sign of the cats as they tore off into the dark. Hes still coming! Sam warned, his attention glued to the rear window. Benedict was chasing after them over the gravel with unnatural speed, his teeth bared in an ugly snarl. Elena pressed down on the accelerator and the station wagon shot forward with renewed vigour. Mercifully, Benedict began to recede into the night, disappearing in a distant explosion of green sparks as he left the periphery of their tail-lights. Despite the fact he was no longer visible,

Winter, along with Sam, continued to watch through the rear window. Her heart thudded in her chest and she felt very queasy. Any second she expected to see Benedict come flying out of the darkness and leap atop the car. He is gone, Elena said, eyes flicking up to the rearview mirror. Her cheeks were flushed pink but apart from that she didnt look too rattled by the experience. Sam lowered the crossbow, swivelling around to face the front again. Winter felt the car slow as Elena eased off the accelerator. That doesnt mean we should slow down, Winter said, growing alarmed again. Benedict moved with terrifying speed. Either that or we run out of gas, Elena replied with a shrug. Sam lent forward through the gap between the front seats, trying to see the dashboard. Is there a chance of that happening? Winter watched Elena check the fuel gauge twice, as though she wasnt sure shed read it correctly the first time. Probably not. It was a less than encouraging response. Great! Thats just great. Winter slumped backwards in her seat, staring worriedly at the road ahead. She could just see it now the engine spluttering as the fuel tank ran dry and the car rolling to a stop in the middle of nowhere. The wave of cats would descend upon them again followed by Benedict, only this time he wouldnt waste time gloating over the kill. He would peel the roof off the car like it was a can of tuna and scoop them out one by one. Thinking about the cats, Winter shuddered all those hairy bodies pressing against the car trying to get in. She shot Elena a curious look. What happened back there? With the cats. Elena hesitated before answering. You asked about the mark on my face. Its not a tattoo, but a brand. I received it when I was a small child. Her voice thickened slightly with an emotion that might have been anger. My father gave it to me. When he discovered I was . . . different. Different how?

He caught me one day talking to our cat, Yaga. Winter shrugged. So, whats weird about that? Kids talk to their pets all the time. True. Except Yaga talked back to me. Elena paused, smirking at Winters confused frown. In my village, behaving in such a way is considered blasphemous. An affront to God. My father was a pious man, he would have killed me if not for my mother. She begged him to let me live. So he branded me instead with the sign of the vyedma. Vyedma? Winters frown deepened at the vaguely sinister-sounding Russian word. What does that mean? Elenas eyes never left the road. Witch.

The Slave

There was light on her face. Lamara could feel it rippling across her skin like the reflection of water. For a moment, she told herself that it was all a dream the portal, the dark towers, Elumen Var. That the light shed see when she opened her eyes would be warm and golden. Her light. Not his. Lamaras eyes flickered open and she let out a small sob. It was no dream. The ghostly radiance spilling in through the tall window was a livid green. The colour of this world. A world of pale monsters that pretended to be gods. The world she couldnt escape. How long had she been here? Days? Weeks? Months? It was impossible to mark the passing of time in a place where the sun never rose, and there was a permanent emerald-tinged night. Gritting her teeth, Lamara tried to raise herself up from the bed but the effort was too great and she collapsed, defeated. Hed stolen her strength again. Her thoughts moved sluggishly, but she remembered Elumen Var coming to her, gliding across the floor like a spirit. Shed tried to fight him but hed been too strong and once hed captured her in his eyes all was lost. Her will ebbed away. Lost in those eyes blazing with green fire. Feeling a tightness around her throat, she reached up

with trembling fingers and was startled to touch metal. A collar. She shifted her weight slightly and there was a chinking sound steel rubbing against steel. To her right was a long loop of chain running from the collar around her neck to a bolt in the wall. Where had it come from? Of course, hed placed it on her as punishment for trying to resist him. The memory returned now Elumen Var smiling cruelly as he clasped the collar around her throat, locking it with a small silver key, which he wore on a black cord against his bare chest. She had been such a fool to think he was a god! The gods could be cruel but also compassionate. There was no compassion in Elumen Var. He was no god. Nor were the other creatures shed glimpsed the hooded servants that brought her strangetasting food and drink and wouldnt meet her gaze. They were something else. Something wicked. Drawing in deeply of the sweet air air which no longer possessed magic enough to calm her fears, she had grown inured to that power Lamara felt a tingling spread through her limbs. Strength and vitality returning. She tentatively sat up, her head spinning, making her feel ill. Once the dizzy spell passed, she began uncoiling the chain. Letting it out, Lamara found she could move easily around the room, but not much further. Even if she somehow could escape past the locked door, she wouldnt make it far. A breeze blew in through the window, prompting her to tighten the robe she was wearing. Briefly she thought of her furs, wondering what he had done with them. She missed their comforting warmth. She missed what they represented. Home. Stumbling towards the open window, Lamara rested one hand for support against the frame and gazed out at the city. Her vision swam, eyes readjusting to the dazzling brilliance after the dimness of the bedchamber. Once this view had thrilled her, filled her with awe, now it made her feel alone. Trapped. The black towers sparkled with a thousand emerald lights, their crowns lost in the endlessly churning clouds. She could see small figures gliding between these towers, moving as if they were passing along invisible bridges.

Some trailed the ghost light in their wake like fire, or water or tendrils of mist. More false gods. Where was this place if it was not the realm of the gods? How far away was she from her mother? From Teodore? It was hard to hold their images in her mind something about the air here made it difficult for memories to take shape, but even though she couldnt recall their faces in detail, her heart ached at their absence. The foul magic of this place couldnt reach deep enough inside to steal that pain.

Could she do it?

Lamara lent forward through the window, staring down at the ground which was obscured in a hazy mist. An idea had been forming ever since the realisation had sunk in that she was a prisoner. That she was a slave. The Grey Wolves had never been slaves and Lamara would not be the first.

Could she do it?

If she jumped would the chain break her neck, freeing her from this world of emerald fire and loveless demons, or would she be left dangling against the side of the tower? What would her captor do to her when he found her? Would it be any worse than what he did to her now? While she contemplated the unthinkable, a shadow passed across her face. He was here. Tripping backwards, Lamara fell painfully to the floor as Elumen Var floated in through the window. Her eyes widened in fear as the false god filled her vision. He was magnificent. He was terrible. The flowing black material swimming around his tall, muscular frame seemed woven from the night itself, glittering as his eyes did, reflecting a light that didnt exist. Worship me, his cold voice echoed through her mind as he stooped to gather her effortlessly into his arms. I will not! she replied, but was too weak and too afraid to protest with anything but her thoughts. Yes . . . you will. A cruel smile played at the corner of Elumen Vars blue lips. She tried not to look into his eyes, turning her head away, burying it in the sheets. His fingers

took hold of her chin, firmly tilting her face towards his. Look at me, he commanded, and while she fought the compulsion, eventually it was too strong for Lamara to resist. Gazing into those infinite black depths, Lamara felt utter despair. She recoiled, retreating within herself. It was here, in the secret hiding place at the back of her thoughts, that Lamara discovered something startling: a series of potent images and words. Images and words that were not her own. Coursing through her mind beneath the layers of upper consciousness.

Malfaerie. Dead Lands. Krypthia. Light. Hunger. Occuluma. Skivers. Kei.

The more she concentrated on these thoughts, the less garbled and nonsensical they became. With dawning recognition, Lamara realised she was reading Elumen Vars mind.

Chapter 32

The amber petrol light had been on for nearly twenty minutes when they passed into the outer city limits of Newbury. Elena hadnt alerted her to this fact, Winter had seen it for herself. Shed been keeping an eye on the gauge throughout the journey, noting with increasing dread the thin red arrow as it dipped lower and lower towards empty. It reminded her of sand sifting through an hourglass; time running out. The three-lane arterial road leading into the city was practically empty at this early hour. A few big trucks rumbled past them but generally the green station wagon was left to putter through the darkness alone. She didnt know how long a car could run on an empty tank. Probably not much longer than half an hour. Sooner or later the tank would run dry. When that happened she wondered how long theyd have before Benedict revealed himself. Winter could almost feel the Demori as an invisible presence hovering in the ether around them, waiting to pounce. Elena hadnt spoken since revealing the origin of the tattoo the brand as she called it. Winter was desperately curious to find out more but was too intimidated by the Russians brooding silence to inquire. Shed hoped Sam might be the one to question her but either he already knew about Elenas history or was less intrigued than Winter.

Somehow hed managed to fall back asleep and was still snoring softly. Sleep was not an option for her. It didnt matter that shed been awake for nearly twenty-four hours; her body wouldnt let her rest. It wasnt just the residual adrenaline periodically zapping her frayed nerves like earthquake aftershocks, it was the horror show that lurked behind her closed eyelids. Every time Winter shut them all she could see was Benedicts gaping mouth looming out of the blackness. So she watched the fuel light and thought about that word Elena used vyedma. Witch. For her, the word witch conjured two alternate images the first Dorothys aggressor in The Wizard of Oz, a green-skinned monster with a black pointy hat and a fetish for ruby slippers; the second, a teenage girl with white pancake make-up, heavy mascara and questionable personal hygiene. Elena didnt resemble either of these images. She was cool, beautiful nothing like a practitioner of the dark arts. But Elena had wrested control of the cats away from Benedict, bending them to her will. Shed heard those strange, slithery words reverberating in her head. The idea of Elena possessing supernatural powers was incredible, but Winter didnt find it too difficult to accept. After all, was speaking to cats any stranger than seeing the Occuluma or having the ability to open doorways to other worlds? She and Elena were sisters in freakdom. Hearing the loud droning of a planes engine overhead, Winters anxious gaze flicked away from the fuel gauge. She had only been to Newbury a couple of times, but remembered the airport wasnt too far from the freeway. Looking out the window, Winter was heartened to see a plane coming in to land. Its outline was clear and distinct against a dark blue haze. She could even spot the carriers red and white logo on the fin. The sun was rising! Anxiously, Winters eyes returned to the fuel gauge and the tiny amber light, so similar to the Occuluma, a sickly glow signalling the end. Winter turned the full force of her will into keeping the engine running. Just a little bit further,

she urged the station wagon. In five ten minutes at the most the sun would be higher and the threat of Benedict would pass. At least until nightfall. The seat springs in the back groaned as Sam shifted his weight. She heard him yawn loudly, the sound striking her as completely incongruous given the tense circumstances. We there yet? he asked, words blending into another yawn. Nearly. Ten more minutes, Elena answered, the slight trace of tension in her voice the only hint that she shared Winters concern. Did you get any sleep? No, Winter replied tersely. Whats your problem? Elena glanced over at Winter, the brief instant of eye contact confirming that she was well aware of just how perilous the situation was. Well . . . Winter hesitated, trying to figure out the best wording to let Sam know they were about to run out of petrol and that maybe he should get his crossbow ready. Would you look at that, he said before she could continue. Winter turned and was immediately blinded by a searing golden light. Holding her hand up to shield her eyes, she saw the crown of the sun glinting through the warehouses and factories. The sky above it had blossomed to a deep burgundy colour, light rippling along the underside of a scrim of violet clouds. Looking at the fingers of dawn stretch out across the sky, Winter allowed herself a moment of relief. They were going to make it! Then the sounds began. It was the engine, sputtering and choking, grasping for life like an old man on his deathbed. Elena started hitting the steering wheel, swearing at it in Russian as though her curses might intimidate it back into life. The car lost momentum, then coasted a short distance before rolling to a complete stop.

Chapter 33

Sitting in the silent car as the sky paled above, Winter waited for Benedict or the cats or both to reappear. Sam had his crossbow out and was anxiously watching the windows. Likewise arming herself, Elena had withdrawn a small blade from the inside of her jacket. Where was her weapon? She had nothing to protect herself with except harsh language and morning breath. As the minutes ticked by and the light outside took on a stronger golden hue, Sam nervously ventured, I think were okay. Winter craned her head up against the glass, squinting past a building to chart the suns location. It was fully visible now, just beginning its journey across the sky. The street lamps were still on, and the infrequent cars which rushed past them all had their headlights blazing. The world was waking up. The question was whether it had woken up enough to negate Benedicts power to travel. In her periphery, she caught a glimmer of movement it was just a plastic bag riding the slipstream of a speeding truck. Winter began to feel as if the car was slowly shrinking around them, side panels pushing in, ceiling lowering, ready to squish them into strawberry jam. The car was a coffin and she needed to escape. Theres one way to find out.

Winter Sam began to protest, but she was already opening the door. The cool morning breeze hit her face like a refreshing splash of water. She sucked in a lungful and held it, the chill numbing the staccato rhythm in her chest. Sam cautiously followed her out of the car, crossbow first. The dawn glow burnished his stubbly cheeks and jaw. Warily, his gaze flicked from Winter to the shadowy industrial landscape and back again. A semi-trailer barrelled past, the driver gawking at Sams weapon. Winter let the air whoosh out of her and smiled at him. Sam returned the smile, lowering the crossbow. That was intense. It occurred to Winter that if this was a horror movie then now would be the moment for the next big scare. Nothing happened Benedict didnt suddenly pop up and kill them, they were not overwhelmed by a clowder of possessed cats. The only risk they seemed to face now was being run over by a sleepy driver. What do we do now? Elena was opening the drivers side door. We get a taxi to the airport. What about the car? Winter looked at the battered green station wagon. It had almost delivered them to their destination safely, leaving it here by the side of the road seemed a little callous. Elena shrugged, pulling out her mobile phone. We dont need it anymore. Winter looked to Sam, interested to see if he was fine with this considering it was his car. He shrugged. Itll be cheaper to get a taxi than to call roadside assistance. Besides Id rather not draw attention to myself if I can help it. Winter nodded, feeling a little slow on the uptake. Right, I keep forgetting about the whole wanted by the police thing. She looked up the stretch of freeway, towards the city in the distance. Feel like stretching your legs? she asked him. Sure. They left Elena with the phone pressed to her ear and strolled away from the car.

You must be exhausted, Sam said, shooting her a concerned sideways glance. Amazingly, Winter wasnt though she suspected the moment she saw a bed that would change. Im okay. I was hoping we could have a moment to talk alone before we leave. A slight crease appeared on Sams forehead. Sure. What about? Am I doing the right thing? Sam squirmed at the question. Look, you want to get to the Dead Lands, Yuris going to help you Sam . . . What do you want me to say, Winter? He might not be of the family but Yuris a Bonnaire. We look after our own. It was a robotic answer, and she sensed he didnt quite believe it. If thats true, then where have they been for the past three months? Where were they when you were sleeping in your car? Being chased by the police? Sams Adams apple bobbed as he swallowed forcibly. Aunt Magdalene doesnt look kindly on failure. I suppose you could say I was in . . . disgrace. She didnt think this sort of behaviour fell under Sams we look after our own response but bit her tongue. What changed? He sighed, considering his words carefully before answering. I saved your life. Brought you to them. Yuri thinks you trust me and that if Im around youll feel safer. Its the only reason Ive been invited to return. Winter was momentarily lost for words, disarmed by his honesty. Youre using me? His eyes never left hers and there was no mistaking the sincerity she saw there. Youre my ticket to freedom. But if you were to tell me right now you wanted to go home, I wouldnt stand in your way. Id do what I could to help you. Again she was touched by his honesty, by his loyalty. Loyalty she wasnt sure how shed earned. Winter wondered if she might be Sams penance. He couldnt take back what his family did to Blake, but he could help Winter.

It would explain why he had translated the diary, and seemed resolute to protect her. I dont think Yuri would be too pleased if you did that. Sam shook his head, frowning slightly. No, he wouldnt. Youre everything to them, Winter. Theyve been looking for a Key for as long as I can remember. Father used to . . . At the mention of Caleb, a tremor of emotion passed through his voice. There were lots of late-night phone conversations about the Mirror and the Key. He was obsessed. They all were. Wait a minute, Winter said, seizing on his reference to the Black Mirror. You knew about this Black Mirror and didnt tell me about it? Even after what I told you about Blake and I dont give a damn about Blake! he snapped at her, shocking her with the edge to his words. Seeing her hurt reaction, he softened his voice. Im sorry. I know he didnt deserve what happened to him. I know you cared about him, but Blakes dead. If his spirit or whatever is somehow being held in the Dead Lands and I dont necessarily believe it is then you wont be able to save him from the Malfaerie. Those creatures are unlike anything you can imagine. Im not going alone, she began, hating the pathetic quality in her tone. The lack of conviction. The Bane will be with me. Yuri said hed organise some kind of team. Soldiers Sams frustrated sigh cut her off. Youre not a dumb girl. Think about it. He would have told you anything to get you to come along. Winter struggled to contain an anger she knew wasnt entirely justified. It hurt that Sam had withheld the information about the Black Mirror, but she was more furious with him for voicing aloud his doubts. Doubts that only further undermined her security, her sense of purpose. So, what am I supposed to do? Give up on Blake? Pretend I didnt see him suffering? In pain. Sam lowered his gaze. I cant tell you what to do, Winter. No, he couldnt, but he had made it pretty clear how

foolish he thought she was acting. Just as Jasmine had before him. It seemed everyone thought trusting Yuri was a bad idea. Couldnt they understand she would grab any opportunity, no matter how slim the chance of success or how dangerous the risks, just to see Blake again? Couldnt they see it wasnt even a choice? Feeling trapped and claustrophobic again, this time by her own decisions, Winter looked out to the reddening sky. Beautiful though the sunrise was, no answers were visible chasing the clouds on the morning. No solace. You two! Elena shouted from the car. Help me with the bags. Taxis on the way. Winter started off towards Elena. She heard Sams footsteps scuff the pavement as he hurried to catch up and was grateful when he remained quiet. There was nothing left to be said.

Blakes Diary, August 17th

Ellen is dead. I found Claudette standing over her body by the side of Palmers Road on the outskirts of town. The rain had set her free, flooding her room and washing away the holding circle. I was too late. My sisters kiss had already wrought its nightmarish magic on the girl and all I could do was stare at them both as the rain beat down. I couldnt move. Couldnt speak. Could only watch with silent horror. And then Claudette smiled that wicked smile of hers and I felt something snap inside of me. A black rage roared up from within, swallowing my shock and grief. I leapt at my sister, threw her violently to the ground, closed my hands around her throat and squeezed. She struggled against me but the anger had made me strong. I could have ended it there should have ended it but as her eyes dimmed a memory rose, unbidden and unwelcome . . . Claudette and I as children, up to our waists in cold snow. Black twisted trees crowd over us like hands and theres something growling nearby. Wolves! Claudette grabs my hand and pulls me towards the nearest tree. Climb! she says, and I hear the wolves racing towards us, can feel their hot breath. Now hidden amongst the tallest branches, I look down and see the wolves below, teeth snapping at the air, their yellow eyes finding mine, pinning

me with terror. Such naked hunger, such ferocity. Im crying and Claudette slips her arm around me and softly whispers not to be afraid. Shell protect me. Shell always protect me ... I cannot murder her. Whatever monster shes become, shes still my sister. Gathering her into my arms, we Travelled back to the house. Claudette was barely breathing as I drew a new holding circle around her but shell heal soon enough. My wounds will not. I cant write much more. Im so tired. I want nothing more but to sleep, to escape this awful night. Yet Im afraid. Afraid the moment I close my eyes Ill see her face. Ellen. Those blank eyes staring up at the rain. Ill see all their faces. Carol, Veronica, Martique, Hannah, Juliet, April, Sarah, Cate, Vanessa, Kim, Jo. Elisabetta. So many lives sacrificed at the altar of my weakness. So many . . . Tomorrow, we move. The police will be here soon enough with their questions, and not far behind them the Bane. Part of me wants to stay and just accept our fate. But Im a coward and at this stage running away feels as natural as breathing. The map lies open on the desk beside me. A town is circled where we can make our next home. What I hope will be our final home. We cant continue like this. The name I picked was in smaller print than the others surrounding it, yet my gaze was drawn nonetheless. All these years, decades, travelling and not once have I thought of returning to where it all began. Hagans Bluff.

Chapter 34

Winter? Sams voice distracted her from the notebook. Shed been so lost in Blakes words shed momentarily forgotten where they were. Now awake, the sounds of the airport rushed over her. A distorted voice echoed through the lounge announcing Paul Govind was to immediately make his way to gate thirty-four; a baby was screaming a few seats down from her, the mother pressing the red-faced infant to her breast, gently shushing him. Sam was looking down at her, his face tense. Its time to go. In his good hand he was carrying a ticket and the forged passport. The other was hidden in a sling under his jacket. Theyve just announced the gate. Cmon. Still feeling upset about what shed just read, Winter nodded and slipped the notebook back into her bag. Shed wanted to pack Blakes diary as well, worried it might get lost with her luggage somewhere en route, but it had been too bulky. Sam was already walking towards the security check and she had to run to catch up. Reading the notebook while she waited for their gate to be called probably hadnt been the smartest decision. She was already anxious, and each sentence made her even more distressed. Such horror and tragedy. Winter

didnt know how Blake could have endured it. Nevertheless, there was some comfort to be found in his words. At times Winter could imagine Blake was speaking directly to her, relating more of his dark history as he had done by firelight in the Velasco living room. The story was upsetting but the intimacy the connection forged between Blake, the teller of the tale, and Winter, his captive audience was worth it. She was thinking about this connection when a black shape in her periphery made her freeze. A man dressed in a dark suit was crossing the lounge towards them. Her breath caught in her throat, heartbeat surging. It was Benedict! Hed found them. She was about to grab Sam when she realised her mistake. It was not Benedict just a young guy who in profile looked a bit like him. There was no reason to panic. They were safe in the daylight. Her attention still on the young guy, Winter nearly ran into the back of Sam, who had paused abruptly. Whats up? She followed his worried gaze and saw the line of people waiting to pass through the security checkpoint. Guards with guns holstered to their belts were carrying out routine searches on every third or fourth person. After seeing his face splashed across every major newspaper and broadcast on all the news networks, usually with the label suspected murderer underneath it, Sam was entitled to be a little jumpy. All it would take was one keen-eyed security officer with a good memory to look past the dyed hair and recognise his face for that thin promise of freedom to disappear. I wouldnt worry about it, Sam. The police are looking for a handsome blond guy. Not a weird-looking emo cripple. Youll be fine, Winter said, hoping a little humour might help him relax. Her efforts won her a nervous smile. I look that different, do I? She nodded. I barely recognise you. Their eyes met and she felt a strange rippling inside, as though someone had thrown a pebble down a well, disturbing the surface of the water. Arent we missing somebody? she asked. Elena had left them watching the departure screens while shed gone

to buy a book. I am here. The voice startled both of them. Winter turned and saw Elena materialise out of the bustling activity of the airport. Just alluding to Elena could apparently summon her out of the ether like a genie or spirit. Or witch. Did you get your book? Winter asked. Yes, Elena replied, her golden-hued cheeks reddening ever so slightly. Intrigued, Winter saw the top of the book jutting from her handbag. It was a Danielle Steel novel, the authors gold-foil-stamped name catching the airports glare. Winter turned away, quickly hiding her smile. In a million years she wouldnt have pegged Elena as a reader of steamy romance novels. They joined the motley collection of travellers lining up for the security check. Almost every age demographic was represented, from grey-haired grannies to wide-eyed toddlers straining against their parents grasp. Whenever Winter travelled by air (shed done it four times, so she was hardly used to it), the oddest guilty thoughts occurred to her when she passed through security. It was the signs that did it. The ones plastered all over the area just before the checkpoint that listed all the various objects that were forbidden from being carried on the plane. She didnt have so much as a nail file on her, but it didnt stop her doing a double, then triple-check to make sure. She glanced over at Sam and saw that her mild anxiety was nothing compared to what he was going through. His tanned skin was flushed, beads of sweat shone on his forehead and ran down his temples. He lifted his hand to wipe at them, but it too was sweaty, so he only ended up smearing more moisture across his brow. Sam looked feverish. And guilty. His eyes wouldnt stop moving, jumping to the security guards and then skittering nervously away. People walking through security checks, dripping with sweat and acting jittery, were probably regarded more closely than others. Winter knew that she needed to do something to calm him down. Without thinking too much about it, she reached over

and took hold of his clammy hand, giving it a quick, compassionate squeeze. At the contact Sam twitched, turning to look at her with surprised puzzlement. A smile crept across his harried features. Its going to be okay, she told him. He gave a brief nod and she was relieved to see the incriminating expression leave his eyes. Both of them stepped forward to the X-ray machine and loaded the small plastic tubs with their wallets and jewellery (she was reluctant to part with Blakes necklace even for a second, but dutifully removed it). They passed through the detectors with nary a raised eyebrow from the bored-looking security guards. Afterwards, Sams relief was palpable. He let out a long, sustained sigh. I cant believe I made it. Its really over. Yep youre a free man. How does it feel? Winter said, sharing his happy relief. Fantastic. Just . . . fantastic. I honestly thought I was going to spend the rest of my life in jail. Id sort of resigned myself to it. He stared thoughtfully ahead into the middle distance, as though seeing a future he hadnt dared imagine before. Thanks for looking after me back there. It was . . . very cool. Dont mention it, she said, and almost laughed in relief at the whole thing. And then she thought of Blake being cruelly tortured by the scarlet monk and experienced a stab of guilt that was profound and upsetting.

Im coming my love.
It was a promise made not only to Blake, but to herself. A reminder of why she was about to get on the plane with Sam and Elena. The task ahead was so daunting, so fraught with uncertainty, Winter realised shed been avoiding dwelling on it, allowing herself to get carried away with the excitement of the moment. The drama of jumping on a plane and setting off for an exotic location. This wasnt a holiday. It was wise to be afraid. Useful even. The fear would help prepare her for the unexpected. Just then, the unexpected chose to manifest itself in

the form of a small figure with a bright pink suitcase standing ahead at their departure gate, looking up at the flight information.

Jasmine!

Chapter 35

Jas! Jasmine turned, her eyebrows raised in a hopeful, if vaguely guilty, expression. Winter quickly crossed the distance between them, gathering her friend in a crushing hug. Surprise! Jasmine said, laughing at Winters astonishment. What are you doing here? Well, last night, I was sitting around watching a re-run o f The Hills, Jasmine began obtusely. You know, that episode where Heidi and Whitney have that big fight? And I got really teary, not because of Heidi and Whitney but because of you and me. I hated how we left things. So, I really wanted to see you again but knew you were already driving and didnt want to just call. And then I started thinking about you in France all alone with these weirdos. Her gaze drifted past Winter to Elena and Sam who were hanging back, watching them with puzzled expressions. I just figured it would probably be best if I came along. You know, to keep you out of trouble. All Winter could do was shake her head in silent marvel. Youre amazing. Jasmines brow crinkled. Amazing in a good way or an annoying way?

Ill get back to you, she quipped, but she could already feel the tears of happiness burning at the back of her eyes. She knew she was tired and emotional but didnt care. Squeezing Jasmine again, she whispered into her friends ear, Its so good to see you. What is she doing here? Elena asked, coming up behind them. Winter released Jasmine and faced the Russian, readying herself for an argument. Good news. Jas is coming with us. Elena pursed her lips and shook her head. This is not a good idea. Yuri would not Yuri can kiss my Jasmine began, her fiery nature threatening to roll forth. Winter quickly stepped forward to diffuse the situation. The Bane needs my cooperation, right? Elenas eyes narrowed and she nodded reluctantly. Well, Im happy to cooperate but only if Jasmine comes with us. Is that understood? The Russians gaze darted between the two girls, as if searching for a weak point in their united front. Eventually, she sighed and withdrew her phone from her jacket. I must talk to Yuri. Dialling his number, she walked off leaving Sam standing with them. He nodded a little awkwardly at Jasmine in greeting. Jas. Jasmine returned his nod curtly. Samuel. Winter sensed that the tension between them had lessened, or at least she hoped it had. The three of them were about to spend a long trip together in a confined space. I think I might go for a quick walk, Sam said tactfully. Can I get either of you anything? Coffee? Snack? No, thanks. Winter shook her head with a smile. Sam nodded again and walked off. Once he was gone, Jasmine turned to Winter and said, I was kind of hoping someone would have arrested him. Winter tutted. Cmon, Jas, Sams okay. If you say so. Anyway, enough about Sam, Jasmine

said, taking Winter by the hand and leading them to a couple of spare seats. Tell me about the drive down. Whats with that Elena chick? Is she a psycho? Aware that their time was short, Winter quickly encapsulated their journey. Jasmines eyes widened at the description of Benedicts attack by the side of the road, and widened further as she explained the origin of Elenas tattoo. Jasmine puffed out her cheeks and exhaled. Wow. Sounds like I missed out on all the fun. She paused, frowning thoughtfully. So, Elenas a witch? Figures. Noting Winters quizzical expression, she added, I mean, if anybodys going to be a witch its her, right? Shes so spooky and mean and . . . Russian. She fell silent as Elena approached them still holding her phone. Yes, Ill tell them. Goodbye, Elena said, folding her phone away. Well, he is not happy with the situation, she addressed Winter, barely acknowledging Jasmine. But if you will not be swayed from the decision, then so be it. The girl is your responsibility. Winter could feel Jasmine bristling at Elenas dismissive tone. Well then, thats settled. We all go together. Yes. Together. Smirking at Jasmines suspicious expression, Elena shrugged and wandered off to check the flight screen. I really dont like that woman, but now Im scared if I say anything shell turn me into a frog or something, Jas said once she was out of earshot. Before Winter could comment, a voice crackled over the intercom announcing their flight was ready to board. She felt a surge of anxiety. This was it. Immediately, the gate lounge bustled with activity as passengers began to stand and collect their belongings. A line was forming at the gate where a blonde flight attendant wearing vivid red lipstick was waiting to check tickets. Sam reappeared with a coffee, which he rushed to finish. Are we ready to go? Pale-faced, Winters hand stole to the lodestone. She

rolled the crystal between her fingers. Ready as Ill ever be.

Elumen Var

Lamara strained against the chain, whipping her head around and glaring angrily at the creature who held the other end. I want to see! Lamara demanded and the servants smirk deepened. The Malfaerie girl was unused to wielding power over anyone so had taken to her duty as Lamaras temporary keeper with disturbing enthusiasm. Elumen Var will not be pleased by your actions, Lamara communicated, trying a different tact. The truth was her relationship with Elumen Var was clearly master/slave, yet she shared his quarters and held onto the vague hope that this intimacy might create the illusion of having some influence. Her ploy seemed to work as a flicker of unease passed over the servants pale features.

I just want to be able to see. Please.

It still sometimes amazed her just how quickly shed adapted to not using her mouth to speak. At first it had been difficult to separate the thoughts she wished to keep to herself from the thoughts she wished to communicate, but after very little practice shed mastered the technique. It came down to a simple trick imagining her mind split into two halves. In the front half were the thoughts she used to talk with the Malfaerie, in the rear half she kept her secret

thoughts and ambitions. So far, Elumen Var and the other Malfaerie had been unable to penetrate this hidden chamber, however, she caught them frowning at her from time to time as though perplexed as to why they couldnt. The servant girl Lix, she now glent was her name reluctantly allowed the length of chain to roll out. Thank you, Lamara nodded politely at the girl and moved to the edge of the balcony, just as another wave of excitement rolled up from the crowd. She looked out over the vast arena, gaze travelling past the thousands of Malfaerie to the two figures spinning in the air. Elumen Var had been challenged. The challengers name was Kremar of the Suthulu House, an arrogant and aggressive Malfaerie who believed Lamara should belong to the Suthulu not the Var. She was not told this directly by her master, but learnt it one evening when his concentration was lost. Lamara had learnt much since discovering she could read her captors mind. Most of it troubling. The Malfaerie were not gods. They were lords of Krypthia, overseers of the Dead Lands. A world that existed just below Lamaras. There were other creatures here, things that dwelt beyond the borders of Kyrpthia. Horrible monsters with grinning skull-like faces and black eyes the Skivers. The Skivers could travel between Lamaras world and the Dead Lands, bringing back with them Kei. Souls. They bartered the Kei to the Malfaerie, who craved this mortal energy with a hunger that chilled Lamara. In return, the Malfaerie allowed the Skivers to soak in the radiance of the Light Wells, great reservoirs of power that were dotted around the city. The Skivers craved this light, just as the Malfaerie craved souls. It was a sickening cycle of greed and addiction. It was not easy for the Skivers to obtain Kei. They were forced to follow a complex set of rules Lamara still didnt understand before harvesting the energy from the mortal realm. This was why Lamara was being fought over. She was an endless source of Kei for these creatures, a wellspring of energy. A treasure. A trophy. A great cheer rose up as the crowd below reacted to a display of skill by one of the combatants. Apprehensive,

Lamara squinted, unable to make out which one of the figures shimmering in the middle distance was Elumen Var. Both the Malfaerie were stripped to the waist, their smooth, muscular bodies thrown into stark relief by the sporadic geysers of light spewed up by the neighbouring wells. Moving with astonishing speed, too fast for her eyes to follow, they traded blows, occasionally blurring together in frenzied activity, becoming one. Slowly they spiralled up from the ground, like leaves caught in the wind, rising higher until they were level with the Var platform the highest in the arena where Lamara watched. An excited hush fell over the thousands of spectators as they anticipated the approaching climax to the drama. She still couldnt see Elumen Vars face; both combatants long black hair whipped around obscuring their features. In the tangle of limbs, she finally caught sight of his piercing green eyes. They were shot through with pain and rage, and then his gaze shifted past his opponent, finding Lamara. You are mine , she heard his voice in her head. Now

and forever.
He was going to win. Snaking his arms around Kremars neck, Elumen Var wrenched the other Malfaerie into a submissive position. There was an audible snap, which provoked another voiceless cheer from the crowd, and Kremars limp body dropped from his grasp, tumbling to the ground. The battle was over. Elumen Var floated across the arena towards her, while below the Malfaerie spectators stood and raised their hands, palms facing outwards in a congratulatory gesture. His chest was covered in bruises and deep scratches, black blood trickling from these wounds. If his injuries troubled him, Elumen Var did not let it register on his face. His features remained frozen, only his eyes shone with hunger. As he drew closer, Lamara felt a stab of pain in her abdomen. Not fear. Not hers anyway. Her hands went protectively to the small bump that was forming, and she made a silent promise to herself. A promise to escape

not through death, but through cunning. But how? The answer came to her later, as Elumen Var bore her aloft through the dark skies over Krypthia, flying towards the tower of the Var. As they soared between the spires, riding on the gulf streams, he asked, in that sarcastic, dangerous manner of his, Are you not pleased, my sweet Lamara of

the Grey Wolves? The battle has been fought. Your god has won. Very pleased , she answered, nervously looking at his glittering eyes and forcing a smile. I was imagining ways I could show my gratitude.
He looked down at her, the expression of wicked lust in his face causing her spirit to wilt.

Is that so? Yes. It was a monumental effort to keep her revulsion hidden. A god as great as you deserves more love than I can provide. They were rising up through the low hanging
clouds, drawing near the window that led to the bedchamber. Her prison. The time for conversation was growing short. A slight frown creased his cold features. What do you mean? Explain yourself. There was a hint of warning in his words and Lamara knew she must tread carefully.

A doorway, my lord. I know of a doorway that could lead you to my world. There we could find others to worship you. An endless number. A doorway, you say? Is this true? The Malfaeries
eyes narrowed in suspicion, and she felt his mind probe hers, trying to read her thoughts. If he managed to penetrate her hidden sanctuary and read the plans shed formed, all was lost. She began to tell him about the portal and soon the suspicion faded from his eyes, replaced with greed.

Chapter 36

Winter ran down the hallway of doors. Blake was behind one of them, she could hear his anguished cries, but every door she opened revealed nothing but darkness. Winter, please! Help me! It hurts! Im coming! she called back. Sometimes he sounded nearby, other times terrifyingly far away. There was a door at the end of the hallway, different from the others. A heavy oak door criss-crossed with iron banding. This was where Blake was being held prisoner. She was sure of it. Finally, theyd be reunited, and she could have him in her arms again. Her heart swelling with anticipation, Winter reached for the handle only to find it missing. Her eyes widened in confusion. There was no handle anywhere, no way of opening the door. Blakes voice, barely a whisper, drifted through the thick wood, Winter . . . please . . . Frantically, she searched for a way to get a grip and somehow pry the door open. She scrabbled at the wood, breaking her fingernails on the coarse grain. I cant open it! she cried, pounding on the door in frustration. I cant ! Yes, you can, someone said quietly behind her.

Winter turned and saw a girl watching her. A strange girl, wrapped in animal skins with thick, wavy hair the colour of blood. Who are Open the door, sister. Set him free, the girl said, staring at her knowingly. Its locked. I cant! Then unlock it. You have the power. Winter nodded and placed her hands against the wood. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the door opening and heard the hinges groan as it gave way. She opened her eyes again, expecting to see her love waiting for her, but Blake wasnt on the other side of the door. Someone else was. Claudette, her face split in a mad grin, lunged at Winter . . . Winter jolted awake, barely suppressing the rising scream. Elena glanced curiously at her from across the aisle. The Danielle Steel novel lay open on her lap. Everything okay? she asked, arching one eyebrow. What? Deeply disorientated, it took Winter a moment to place herself. The beehive sound of the engines beneath the wing outside helped. As did the stale, recycled quality of the air blowing on her face from the overhead vent. She was on a plane travelling to Paris. Seated to her right, Jasmine was scrunched up against the window, fast asleep. A navy blue eye mask hung askew across her face; her lips were slightly parted. Sam was in another section of the plane having traded seats with Jasmine. Turning back to Elena, Winter said, How long was I . . . ? The word asleep, was drowned out by the pilots voice crackling over the intercom announcing they were about to begin their descent. Winter couldnt believe it. She thought shed been asleep for only a few minutes, when really it must have been closer to five hours. Despite this, she still felt exhausted, her muscles sore. Touching her forehead, her fingers came away moist with sweat. Residue of the nightmare. Was it

too late to duck into the bathroom to wash her face? Seatbelts were being buckled throughout the cabin. Winter saw that the seatbelt light had flicked on. Dammit! Shed missed her chance. Exhaling forcefully, Winter tried to banish the image of Claudettes face lunging towards her out of the dark. It was just a stupid dream. Nothing more. Claudette was dead. But what about that girl with the red hair? Where had she come from? It dawned on her that Elena was still watching her curiously. Winter shot her a quick smile. Im fine. The Russian shrugged and picked up her novel again, turning a page with a grey-gloved finger. The gloves had remained on during the entire flight. Winter glanced down at her lap and saw that Sams notebook had slipped into the gap between the armrest and the seat. She plucked it out and held it in her hands, thinking of the passage shed read before falling asleep. Blakes return to Hagans Bluff. The memory of his mothers death. So much sadness and guilt, the words inscribed on the pages felt as though they had been etched painfully into her own heart. Hed come back to the Bluff to say goodbye to his mother. The plane began to tilt towards the ground, and her sombre reflection was forgotten, shunted aside by the view outside the window. She would never forget this first glimpse of Paris; a convoluted patchwork of buildings and roads seen through the hazy veil of salmon-coloured clouds. There was the Seine snaking its way around Notre Dame, golden light rippling across its surface. And here was the Eiffel Tower, so much smaller than shed imagined, a lone sentry watching over a lush, green park. Taking in the sights, a grin spread across her face. She remembered many excited conversations with Jasmine about one day travelling through Europe. Just the two of them. Doing the whole backpacker thing, staying in hostels, partying with locals, avoiding the usual tourist spots, getting lost and loving every minute of it. She was able to hold onto this innocent wonder until they landed. As soon as the great turbines stopped

spinning and the cabin filled with the restless noise of passengers unbuckling, yawning, chatting, and getting their bags, Elena lent across the aisle and tapped her gently on the arm. Her eyes fixed on Winters and she smiled that knowing smile of hers. Now, well see how far youre willing to go. The man who greeted them as they exited the arrival section was a little taller than Winter, with a wide belly and a strong Gallic nose sitting above a bushy, salt-and-pepper moustache. Good afternoon, my friends, and welcome to Paris, he said, voice booming through the airport. My name is Marcel, and I will be your driver and your servant while you are in my country. Anything you want, Marcel will get. He smiled widely, the moustache twitching as though it had a life of its own. Elena said something to him in French, but he seemed more eager to meet the three young foreigners than talk with her. First he spoke to Sam, speaking English then shifting to French when he realised Sam was fluent. Winter guessed their brief conversation touched on Caleb and Sams brothers as at one point Marcel reached out and rested his hand on Sams shoulder in a gesture of consolation. The Frenchman then turned to the two girls exclaiming with a lascivious grin, Winter and Jasmine. Such beautiful names for such beautiful girls. And here I was thinking French women were the finest in the world. Winter merely raised her eyebrows, while Jasmine couldnt resist coming back with, Here I was thinking French men were supposed to be handsome and charming. Guess we were both wrong, huh? Marcel seemed momentarily lost for words before an infectious baritone laugh rumbled up from the depths of his belly, building in strength before exploding out of his mouth; a great geyser of mirth. Winter couldnt help but smile along with him. Excellent! Marcel grabbed hold of Jasmines hand and shook it enthusiastically. I think you and I will have

some fun together, yes? I doubt it, Jasmine said through a smile while her whole body was jostled by Marcels pumping hand. Her response prompted even more laughter from Marcel. Elena watched the exchange with bemusement, while Sam hadnt stopped smiling since hed walked through border control. It was the expression of a man who couldnt believe his own luck. A free man. Wiping his eyes, Marcel took hold of their luggage trolley and began pushing it towards the exit. This way, my friends, we have a long drive ahead of us and I look forward to sharing many more jokes. Cant wait, Jasmine said, rolling her eyes at Winter and following him. Before joining her, Winter asked Elena, Were not waiting for Yuri? Elena shook her head. He will meet us in the castle later. Winter nodded thoughtfully, her mind turning to Lucy and wondering how she was bearing up. Glancing down at her watch, she realised that if everything had gone according to plan Yuri had already broken up with her and was already on his way to Paris. Starting off after Jasmine and Sam, Winter paused what had Elena just said?

A castle?

Chapter 37

The trip through Paris was over all too quickly, the sights disappointingly limited to whatever Winter could see rushing past the tinted windows of Marcels black van. To add to her disappointment the landscape she did see was almost uniformly drab and uninteresting. Where was the romanticism and charm shed seen in movies and read about in books? The narrow cobblestone streets, the artfully crooked terraces, the bustling open-space cafs? Only once did Winter see the Eiffel Tower again, when the buildings on her left thinned and a space opened up. Pariss most famous landmark rose up in the misty golden morning light, proud and beautiful. For a split second, she glimpsed the Paris of her imagination and then it was gone again, obscured by a red brick wall sprayed with graffiti and pigeon droppings. During the trip Marcel kept up a steady commentary on his citys history and its famous landmarks. Round about the time they sped through their fifth set of traffic lights the light clearly flashing red leaving a blast of horns in their wake, it dawned on Winter that Marcels tour guide act was something of a mask. He was trying to keep her distracted from the fact that they were speeding through the city on purpose. Every now and again Marcel would break off his cheery chatter and mutter something to Elena, the urgency

of their exchange clear despite the language barrier. Winter was going to quietly ask Sam to translate but he had fallen asleep yet again. She was starting to suspect he might suffer from narcolepsy. Jasmine too had passed out shortly after theyd started the journey. Her head had fallen against Sams shoulder. The two looked so cute together that it made Winter feel a little sad. Shed never had the opportunity to share this kind of quiet moment with Blake. Sighing, Winter turned back to the window, rested her head against the glass and watched the city slide by. They passed through the thickly congested traffic of Pariss business centre and into the vaguely apocalyptic outskirts. The road they were travelling thickened to two lanes and then four, becoming a highway as they left the city behind. Now the French landscape showed some of its beauty. First a few scattered cottages sprung up, surrounded by acres of flat farmland. These then gave way to rolling green and brown hills stitched with leafy grape vines. Marcel picked up speed and Winters instinct that they were racing towards, or away, from something grew stronger. . . . and those vineyards you can see past the cows on the left belong to the famous Champagne region, Marcel was saying, his accented voice disguising any anxiety she might have detected. This name does not refer to a specific Why are we driving so fast? Is something wrong? Winter asked, growing tired of the charade. Marcels eyes flicked to her in the rearview mirror, regarding her curiously. No, no, no. Of course not. You might as well tell her the truth, Elena said. Her head was still buried in the novel. Marcel muttered something softly to Elena that sounded like a caution, which she responded to with an impatient flurry of sentences. Winter could understand only one word in their quick conversation: Demori. Marcel sighed. I apologise, Winter. I was unsure of how much you knew of the situation. Im a big girl. Tell me whats going on. Marcel nodded. Okay, okay. First, it is important that

you know there is nothing for you or your friends to fear. Nothing at all. We have simply been experiencing some troubles with the Demori lately. Troubles? Marcel cleared his throat. Um . . . yes. There have been incidents at night. Some men have gone missing. Nothing serious, Marcel said, his casual, off-hand manner doing nothing to allay her growing concern. Still, it would probably be best for us to be within the castle walls before the sun sets. Winter craned her neck against the window to ascertain the suns location. It burned a hole in the sky ahead of them, already having passed the zenith of its arc. Evening was four or five hours away at most. Nothing to be afraid of . . . No. Absolutely not. Enjoy the drive, Marcel replied cheerily, oblivious to the sarcasm in Winters response.

Chapter 38

It was nearly five when they turned off the highway onto a small winding road. Marcel reassured Winter that they were very close, that this road in fact would take them all the way to the castle. When Winter asked him where the castle was, he pointed at a range of shadowy grey mountains in the middle distance. There, my little Winter, he said, behind those mountains lies our safety. Not far now. There was something about his forced optimism that didnt ring true. Her mind kept turning to what he had said about the troubles with the Demori. Restlessly her eyes scanned the foothills out the window, looking for flashes of fur darting through the rippling wild grass. Looking for cats. Just as the daylight took on a burnished quality, the sun losing its claim on the sky, they began their climb into the mountain range proper. The air in the car cooled, prompting Marcel to put on the heater. Winter wiped away the condensation forming on the glass, continuing her cautious watch. Sharply pointed fir and spruce trees shot up on either side of the road, reminding her of Owl Mountains forest-blanketed slopes. The trees here seemed taller somehow, thicker; more ominous in their unfamiliarity. The road became so narrow that at certain points they

were forced to slow to a crawl. Winter was glad of Marcels intense concentration when they were creeping around a particularly frightening hairpin turn, and she happened to glance down. The vans wheels were mere inches from the edge of the road, and a drop of several hundred feet down into a rocky ravine. She didnt dare look down again and just hoped Marcel was as good a driver as he was a talker. The mood in the van grew oppressive so much so that Winter was prompted to wind down the window a crack, hoping to relieve the mounting tension. Blasted by a gust of icy wind, she quickly wound it back up again. She considered asking Marcel to put on the radio. Anything to distract her from her own restless anxiety. It was becoming impossible not to think about Benedict. Could the Demori track her from Hagans Bluff? The distance was so vast; then again what was distance to a creature that could jump between shadows? The trees seemed to sink into the ground on their right side as the mountain sloped away from the car more steeply, revealing the horizon. Across the valley, Winter could see a wide bank of storm clouds rolling towards them from the west. Lightning pulsed in the voluminous greyblack depths followed by a rumble of thunder. The distant sound caused Jasmine to stir, her comically drawn-out yawn filling the uneasy silence of the car. Not quite alert, Jasmine stretched her arms up to the roof, the languorous movement succeeding in also waking Sam. He glanced over and smiled in surprise at Jasmine, still nestled against his shoulder. She went bright red and pushed herself off him. Sorry, she mumbled, reddening even more when she noticed the patch of drool shed left on his jacket. Sam shrugged off her apology and looked out the window, his lips twitching. How long was I out? Jasmine asked Winter, smoothing down her rumpled shirt. A couple of hours, Winter said, smirking at Jasmines flushed face. A couple of hours? You shouldnt have let me sleep!

Now Im not going to be able to tonight. Winter had the impression Jasmine was more irritated that Winter had let her sleep on Sam than anything else, but didnt say anything. It was good to have someone to distract her from her own thoughts. An itch had started at the back of her mind a sensation separate from the approaching nightfall and the threat it represented. The more she tried to ignore this itch, the more pronounced it became, building to a hazy premonition.

Something evil lay ahead.

Not the Bane or the Bonnaires or whatever they wanted to call themselves. Something else. As the road took them higher and the trees thinned, Winter began to tremble in nameless fear. The van crested a rise, prompting Jasmine to gasp, Would you look at that! Almost like a reflex, the muscles at the back of Winters eyes tightened and she summoned the Sight. Through the windshield the road sloped down, disappearing into a forest of black trees. Just beyond the trees a few tendrils of chimney smoke could be glimpsed curling into the darkening sky. Ah, you see we are practically home, Marcel said, his voice sounding notably relieved. At the bottom of the hill lies the village of Fort Sinistre, and past it our destination Castle Vled. Originally a military stronghold for King Charles VII, it has been in the Bonnaire family for three generations. It looks like something from a movie, doesnt it? Jasmine asked, unable to repress her excitement. Castle Vled was indeed an awesome sight. Built on a precipice overlooking a crescent-shaped misty canyon, the castle was surrounded by a high stone wall. Only the three towers could be glimpsed reaching past the wall, their crimson conical spires jutting aggressively against the bulbous clouds, which were even now spreading darkly across the sky. I cant believe were staying in a castle, Jasmine continued. Win? she added, when Winter failed to comment.

In her periphery, Winter saw Jasmine glance over at her with concern. Winnie? Is everything okay? No. Nothing was okay. Winter couldnt answer Jasmine because her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth, dry and useless. All she could do was stare ahead not at the castle, but at the dark band hovering in the air around the castle. This band was not solid, but instead was made up of dozens of black shapes floating side by side like a string of paper dolls. The Skivers.

Chapter 39

Win, talk to me! Whats the matter? Jasmine grabbed Winters shoulder and gently shook her. The contact was enough to break the paralysing shock caused by the sight of the Skivers. Why were they here?! Panicking, she faced Jasmine and stared into her eyes. Her friends Occuluma blazed a reassuring azure shade. Jasmine was in no danger of the Skivers. Sams eyes too were free of the dreaded crimson flames. Whats the matter? he asked, confused by Winters intense scrutiny. Whats going on back there? Car sick? Marcel asked, frowning in the rearview mirror. If youre going to be ill tell me and Ill pull over. I . . . She licked her lips, trying to generate enough saliva to speak. Her stomach felt queasy; her back sticky with sweat. So many of them! Hundreds. If they continued on their current route, they would pass directly beneath the Skiver blockade. This prospect created a fresh bloom of panic. I can see . . . something. Around the castle. Something . . . bad. An awful thought occurred to her. Jas, have you got your compact? Um . . . Frowning, Jasmine scooped up her handbag

and hunted through the contents. Yep. Its your lucky day, she said, withdrawing a small pink compact. Winter held the tiny mirror up to her face. Her Occuluma glowed vividly in the mirrors reflection. Blue and strong. Letting out a deep sigh of relief, Winter passed the compact back to Jasmine. Thanks. No problem. Whats with the nervous breakdown? Yes, Winter, do tell us, Elena said, looking over her shoulder from the front seat. Winter glanced from Elena to Jasmine to Sam, suddenly hesitant to reveal what shed seen. Its nothing. I guess I was just overwhelmed by the castle. Its spooky, you know? Elenas left eyebrow arched at that. She turned back to the front and muttered something under her breath. Sam and Jasmine didnt seem entirely satisfied with Winters answer either, however both had the good sense not to press her. Jasmine did shoot Winter a look though you

better tell me whats going on later.

Marcel seemed entertained by Winters misgivings. Ah, yes I suppose where you come from you dont see such things. Dont be afraid of our old castle. Once inside its walls you will be quite safe. Well see about that, Winter thought as she eased back into her seat. They travelled into the shadow of the forest and she lost sight of the castle and the Skivers. She could still feel their presence, itching at her mind like rats scurrying behind walls. After a short spell, the van emerged from the forest and passed through the village of Fort Sombr. Castle Vled loomed ahead, the ring of Skivers a black smear in the air. There was no moat, no drawbridge, but there was a formidable-looking portcullis in the centre of the wall. The way it was raised, iron teeth jutting out from the top of the archway, it looked as though the castles mouth was open, ready to take a bite out of them. Above the entrance, flickering torches had been posted at regular intervals along the parapet. Winter could glimpse figures moving between the torches. Guards?

She tried not to look up as they drew close to the walls entrance, but the morbid temptation to see the nightmarish spectres again, especially from such a close distance, was too strong. Anxiously, she pressed her face against the window. The Skivers bobbed and swayed in the strong mountain air.

What were they doing? Who were they waiting for?

The cold feeling in her chest intensified, becoming almost unbearable icy tendrils snaking through her organs. They were more horrible than she remembered. The Skivers in her nightmares were like shadows compared to these monsters. It seemed her subconscious had softened their details, rendered them less terrible. Gazing upon their spindly forms wrapped in leathery, priestlike tunics, their bald, elongated heads, midnight-black eyes and inhumanly wide toothy grins, Winter started to tremble again. Any moment now one of them would turn its blackeyed, sharks gaze towards her. The air would fill with the chattering of monstrous teeth and they would fall upon the car, enveloping them like a cloud of locusts. Cruel scissors would flash, souls would be severed . . . But that didnt happen. The creatures seemed almost hypnotised, their dreaded attention fixed on a single spot somewhere past the stone walls. Following their malevolent gaze, a thought occurred to Winter one that was both comforting and puzzling. The Skivers wanted someone inside the castle, but were prevented from entering. That was why theyd formed the ring they were laying siege. Marcel slowed the van as they approached the entrance. Guards dressed in dark fatigues holding crossbows were walking towards them. They rolled to a stop, Marcel pulling on the hand brake. Sorry for the delay, my friends, well be inside soon enough, he said with a wink. Whats going on? Jasmine asked, eyeing the guards cautiously. Nothing to worry about. Merely a routine security check. Jasmine and Winter shared a dubious look. Sam lent

between the two girls and whispered, Have I mentioned that the Bonnaires can be a little paranoid? With good reason, Elena said sternly. Sam shrugged see what I mean? The first guard was conferring with Marcel in French through the open window. A second guard, a stocky man with thick, crude features and a shaved head, slowly circled the car, brandishing his crossbow in an intimidating manner. He nodded respectfully at Elena and then paused outside Winters window, staring at her curiously through the glass. He turned and asked the other guard something. The guard scowled past Marcel so he too could see Winter sitting in the back. Feeling uncomfortable with the attention, she sank lower in her seat, hands twisting in her lap. Marcel said something further, and the guard reluctantly stepped back from the car, barking an order to the other guard to do the same. You see? That wasnt too painful, was it? Marcel said. Now we eat and drink and get out of this damned car. Hear, hear, Jasmine said, stretching her arms out in front of her. Winter was also tired of being cooped up in a small, confined place. First the sixteen hour car ride down from Hagans Bluff, then the flight, followed by another four hours on the road. That was a lot of travel for a girl who wasnt used to much more than driving ten minutes at a time. An uncomfortable numbness had seeped into her backside which no amount of wriggling about seemed to cure. Her neck also felt stiff and sore. Despite this, Winter didnt share Jasmines enthusiasm for venturing outside. The car might be restrictive, but it had grown familiar to her, and thus safe. Outside the door was nothing but uncertainty. As they drove through the entrance into the main courtyard, it wasnt the dangers outside Castle Vleds walls the Skivers and Demori that played upon her fears, but the unknown danger within. Winter was now with the Bane.

Chapter 40

As they passed through the courtyard towards the stables, Winter studied the castle. There were two main buildings with tall arched wooden doors leading into them: the great hall and the keep, Marcel explained. Adjoining these imposing stone structures were smaller buildings offices and such. While these were clearly modern additions, the architect had gone to great lengths to blend these constructions in with the original medieval dwellings. The three towers were positioned roughly on the north, east and west points of the compass the keep occupying the southern point. Winter could just make out the shapes of these towers against the sky. Twilight seemed not to exist in this part of the world, night falling with the speed of a book being snapped shut. Marcel parked in the converted stables next to a dozen or so other vans of the same make and model and switched off the engine. Leave your bags, my friends, he said. The Bonnaires will take them to your rooms. Bonnaires? Jasmine asked, brow puckered in curiosity. Forgive my turn of speech. We are all Bonnaires in Castle Vled, Marcel said, his eyes straying to Sam. Winter caught the stiff nod Sam gave in response before she was

nudged out of the car by Jasmine. Cmon, I need the bathroom. Like desperately! They piled out of the car, both girls giving a little jump as a tall figure stepped from the shadows. As spindly as a scarecrow, the white-haired man in front of them had a grey, pinched face, freakishly bright eyes, and was dressed in a suit so old-fashioned, it might have suggested a sense of whimsy, if not for the wearers mouth; stern, small to the point of invisibility and not shaped for smiling. Good evening, my name is Radermire, head of the household staff, he said in an accent that wasnt French or Russian and may have been German. On behalf of Mistress Bonnaire I would like to welcome you to Castle Vled. Ah . . . Radermire, I trust you have organised a feast for my friends and I? Marcel said, coming around the side of the car. Radermire nodded at Marcel. Dinner will be served in the dining hall at approximately six pm. After you refresh yourselves I suggest you make your way directly to the keep. Madame will be waiting for you there. As he spoke his cold appraisal shifted from Sam to Jasmine and finally to Winter, where it lingered for a second longer than she liked. A word of warning, he continued, his tone forbidding. During your stay with us, the Bonnaires will do everything in their power to ensure your safety. However, should you venture beyond the castle walls, we will not be responsible for anything that might happen to you. His thin lips twitched into a smirk. Of course, of course. We are all aware of the dangers, Marcel said, his booming voice and personality seeming even larger and more cheerful next to Radermires gloom. Now, if there is nothing else, we must refresh ourselves. Follow me my lovely ladies, and I shall take you to the facilities. If you have any questions along the way, please dont hesitate to ask. Safe inside the walls, Marcel seemed eager to resume acting as Jasmine and Winters unofficial tour guide. Already he was gesturing to the great hall and explaining

how King Louis XIV had ordered the beheading of a cook there after being served cold soup. Nice meeting you, Mr Radermire, Winter said as she passed him. It is just Radermire. He gave a perfunctory little bow, his gaze never leaving Winters. Glancing back just before they entered the servants quarters to wash up, she was unnerved to see he hadnt moved and was still staring at her, the whites of his eyes luminescent in the stables murk. You mean theyre just beyond the wall? Floating in the air? How many? Jasmine asked in a high-pitched voice, drying her hands with a towel. Worried about scaring her, Winter didnt tell her there had been more Skivers than she could count. A lot. Jasmine folded the towel in silence, frowning thoughtfully. Not possessing Winters gift of the Sight, shed never seen the Skivers so had only Winters words and her own imagination to go by. Judging by the look on her face, this was apparently enough to form a pretty scary picture. But they cant get in, she said, looking to Winter for verification. Right? Theyre stuck outside? Winter shrugged, taking the towel from Jasmine and drying her own hands. I think so. And even if they did my occu-thingy is blue, right? Im safe? So are you? She paused before adding, And Sam? Yeah, theyre not here for us. Winter flexed the Sight just quickly to check this was still the case and was comforted by the strong blue flames dancing in Jasmines pupils. The idea of seeing the red Occuluma in her eyes in Sams was horrifying. Jasmine exhaled, the lines in her forehead smoothing. Well, I guess we shouldnt worry about it, then. I mean if none of us are in danger then weve got nothing to fear, right? Still, not exactly a good omen. No, its not, Winter said, thinking that was about as big an understatement as you could make. She frowned at her reflection in the spotty mirror over the basin. Her skin was pale and her hairs deep red colour seemed flatter

somehow. As though shed lost some of her colour and vitality. The bags under her eyes were there and looked heavier. Still, the light in her eyes was a vivid blue and that was all that mattered. She could worry about looking pretty later. Lets go meet this mysterious Madame Bonnaire, she said, opening the door for Jasmine. If shes anything like that Radermire guy, Im sure shell be a ball of fun, Jasmine responded with a roll of her eyes.

Chapter 41

The first few drops started to fall just as they came into view of the steps leading up to the keeps entrance. The wall fanned out on either side of the crumbling stone structure, disappearing into the darkness like the wings of a giant bird. Rose-coloured lights glowed in the arched windows, giving the keep a malevolent character. Lightning suddenly forked across the sky directly above them, followed by a tooth-rattling crack of thunder. The lights sputtered and went out. Only the flickering torches along the parapets were visible now. As Winter squinted, picking out the shapes of her friends in the gloom, the smell of burnt copper pricked her nostrils. Ah yes, Marcel said, his voice floating somewhere ahead of her. The joys of living in a medieval castle. The space in front of them was suddenly washed with white light. Elena was holding a torch in her hand. This way, she said, motioning with the torch towards the steps. What would we do without you, comrade? Marcel said, slapping Elena on the back. She regarded him with a bored expression, which only seemed to amuse him further. Watching Marcel push open the doors, Winter was reminded of a movie shed caught one sleepless night. It was The Tomb of Dracula , and began with the hero and heroine stepping through a set of medieval doors a lot like

the ones she was now approaching. Dracula wasnt there to greet them as they stepped inside. Instead, there were two more guards Bonnaires as Marcel would have called them holding lamps, crossbows slung around their middles. These two po-faced men with identical thick black beards gave Winter, Jasmine and Sam the once over before stepping aside, revealing a floating staircase leading up to a mezzanine level. The top of an archway was visible behind the banister. Winter could see firelight dancing along the borders of the archway, and heard the sound of plates and cutlery clinking together. Marcel grabbed a lamp off one of the Bonnaires and started speaking as they took the stairs. His voice echoed around the chamber, bouncing from the walls. The subject of his talk was not the history of the castle or the kings and queens who had deigned to visit, but the tall paintings hanging in gilded frames above the stairs, paintings which were invisible until Marcels lamp threw them into grim relief. The pictures to your right depict every patriarch of the Bonnaire family starting with Victor Bonnaire, the father of us all. The lamps ghostly light crept over a faded oil portrait of a middle-aged man with white hair and sharp, unappealing features. His nose was too long, his chin too pointed and his eyes too big. Victor seemed to be staring maliciously out from the canvas as though daring the viewer to meet his gaze. Winter could see Calebs features in Victor, in the hollow of his cheeks and the crooked, mean mouth peeking out from beneath the white moustache. Father of us all, Marcel had said, the phrasing sticking in Winters mind like a burr. Up until this point, she had regarded Marcel, if not affectionately, then as something of a benign entity. She liked his big smile and friendly personality. With that one comment, though, he had effectively darkened her perception of him. Anyone who held Victor up as some kind of saint was not to be trusted. . . . of course the Galerie Schmit has lobbied tirelessly for an opportunity to exhibit the collection, but Madame believes as long as the castle remains in the Bonnaire

name then so should the family portraits. He paused, glancing back at them. Satisfied with their appropriate expressions of curiosity, he continued. Next we have Antoine and his son Christophe. They drew closer to the next two paintings, each a little smaller than Victors. Winter wondered if this had been on purpose. It was Antoine who arranged for the purchase of Castle Vled when the original owners became embroiled in scandal. What sort of scandal? Jasmine asked, always eager for some juicy gossip even if that gossip was more than a century old. Marcel lowered his voice. A baron named Alistair Le Roache had been living here for some years when the state authorities arrested him. Apparently some girls from the village had gone missing, their mutilated bodies turning up later. His eyes flicked momentarily to Elena before adding in a hushed, dramatic manner, He was executed as a warlock. Giving his audience a moment to dwell on this, Marcel then resumed the art history lecture, mentioning the various artists use of brush stroke to evoke mood and character. Jasmine raised her eyebrows sceptically at Winter can

you believe this guy?

Winter studied the portraits of Christophe and Antoine as she passed below them. Both men were less ghastlylooking than Victor, yet neither was conventionally attractive. They might have been if their expressions were less forbidding, their eyes less dark. Antoine was the son of Madeleine, making him Blakes half-brother, so some of their mothers beauty softened his features, his mouth especially was more generous, less cruel, yet he was clearly his fathers son. So, thats where you get your looks, Jasmine whispered to Sam. I always thought in the back of my mind I might be adopted, Winter heard him reply in a tone so dry she couldnt be sure if he was joking or not. And of course, Caleb Bennet, Marcel said, looking back sympathetically at Sam.

Sam nodded, but didnt pause to regard his fathers portrait. Winter didnt want to see Calebs face again, but couldnt help looking, just as she couldnt help looking up at the Skivers earlier. Something inside her clearly had an appetite for horror. The man in the gilded frame was not the wild-eyed fanatic who had kept her prisoner. This Caleb was younger, a man in his late thirties his features, while sharp like his forebears, were not skull-like yet; his eyes did not stare from grey sunken sockets as Winter remembered them. The years between the painting of this portrait and when their paths had crossed had been unkind to Caleb. Only that dangerous light sparkling in the depths of his black pupils was consistent. The artist had managed to capture that aspect perfectly. And that concludes our art history portion of the tour, Marcel said, holding up the lamp for them as they stepped off the staircase onto the shadowy mezzanine. If you will follow the lovely Elena through the archway, we now enter my favourite room in the castle. The dining hall. I feel like Im at a theme park. The Haunted Mansion or something, Jasmine whispered in Winters ear when they had moved away from Marcel. Any second now a guy in a sheet is going to pop out. Elena and Sam disappeared through the archway and the two girls followed. Winter heard Jasmines short intake of breath and felt her own heart skip a beat. There was a dragon in front of them. It sat crouched at the far end of the chamber, flames roaring in its gaping mouth. Winter had never seen a fireplace like it. Standing taller than she was, the dragon fireplace was carved completely out of stone eyes, horns and fangs rendered in exacting detail. So lifelike did the dragons head appear that at any moment Winter expected the thing to twitch and vomit a jet of fire across the chamber towards them. Ugly beast, no? Marcel said, coming up behind them. Winter nodded uneasily in response. Tearing her eyes from the fireplace, she took in the rest of the room. It was a vast stone chamber, the walls and ceiling hidden in

shadows. Suddenly a blazing circle materialised out of the darkness halfway up the far eastern wall, winked at them and then disappeared. Lightning outside a stained-glass window. For some reason, the window reminded Winter of Pilgrims Lament. The Madonna stared sadly from a jagged shard of coloured glass. This place just keeps getting better and better, Jasmine whispered with false bravado. Wheres the guy in the sheet? she replied, smiling weakly. Their voices hung in the air. The only other sounds were the crackling coming from the dragons mouth and the storm outside. Winter had been so distracted by the fireplace she hadnt noticed the appetising aroma hanging heavily in the air. Following her nose, she looked to her right and saw just outside the fireplaces flickering red light a long table spread with an impressive collection of food platters and dishes. It was surprising that she hadnt noticed it immediately as it was the only real fixture in this immense space. Four candelabras had been placed along the table to offer enough light for her to quickly guess that almost every kind of animal and vegetable seemed to be on offer. Looking at the food, her stomach growled in anticipation, forcibly reminding her that she hadnt eaten since the questionable cuisine theyd served on the plane. They dont do things by halves here, do they? Jasmine said, staring at the table greedily. Ah! What did I tell you? Marcel clapped his hands together in pleasure. A feast awaits us. We French know how to eat, yes? Please He was interrupted by the sound of chair legs scraping across stone. All eyes went to the figure seated at the end of the table. Winters heart began to quicken in nervous apprehension as the figure slowly stood and began to walk towards them. Even Marcel seemed a little nervous in the way he was licking his lips. A woman an elderly woman by her slow, slightly pained amble stepped out of the shadows. She was

dressed entirely in black, not a patch of skin visible. Even her face was covered in a veil, the charcoal lace obscuring her features. She looked like a mourner at a funeral. Like a living shadow. The closer she came towards them, the stronger Winters unease grew. Marcel turned to them, forcing a smile. Allow me to introduce Madame Magdalene Bonnaire.

Chapter 42

The matriarch of the Bane didnt speak straightaway. She simply stood regarding the four of them ominously. As the silence stretched on, broken only by the sound of wood popping in the fireplace, she finally said, Thank you for bringing them safely to me, Marcel. I imagine the journey went well? Her accented tone was soft, yet carried with it a deceptive strength. This was a woman who would never need to raise her voice; she could command with a whisper. Marcel went to her and gently kissed her proffered gloved hand. Very well, Madame. There were no incidents to speak of. I am pleased. And you have brought me back Elena, I see. But not Yuri? Madame, Elena said, and Winter was surprised to see her bow her head deferentially. Elena didnt seem the type to recognise status. My husband will be joining us later tonight. Magdalene Bonnaire nodded, her attention swivelling towards Winter, Jasmine and Sam. Opening her arms, she drew Sam into a stiff embrace. My dear nephew, its wonderful to see you again after all these years. Its good to see you, Aunt. So much sadness. Your father . . . I still mourn him,

she said, her voice betraying no emotion. He is a martyr to the cause. Sam gave a sickly smile and nodded, gaze darting away from his aunt as though wary of revealing his thoughts on the matter. Ignoring her nephews discomfort, Magdalene turned to Winter. The womans strong perfume pricked her nostrils, overpowering the scent of food. It smelt like burial flowers. And you must be the girl Ive heard so much about. She reached out and gently caressed a lock of Winters hair. The girl with the beautiful red hair and the power to cross worlds. Winter Adams. Magdalene let the hair drop from her fingers. Now that she was standing so close Winter could faintly make out the old womans features through the veil. A thin, pale face; pronounced cheekbones. Her eyes though remained a mystery, lost in shadow. Shifting uncomfortably beneath Magdalenes intense scrutiny, Winter swallowed and said, Um . . . yes, thats me. Eager to shift the attention, she thumbed towards Jasmine who was staring uneasily at Magdalene. This is my friend, Jasmine. The veiled woman tilted her head to one side, examining Jasmine. Ah yes, the interloper. Yuri has told me about you. Apparently, wherever Winter goes so do you. You better believe it, Jasmine said, bolstering herself with false bravado. Winter was worried that Jasmines disrespectful tone might offend Magdalene, a woman who was clearly used to being treated reverentially. Instead, she got the impression Magdalene was smirking behind her veil. Well, you are all very welcome at Castle Vled, she said. I apologise for the lack of lights but the storm has thrust us briefly back into the dark ages. I trust you will all be able to eat by candlelight? Despite being unsettled by Magdalene, Winter was so hungry she was quite sure she could sniff out the food in absolute darkness. By the eager expressions on the faces of her travelling companions, she wasnt the only one.

Chapter 43

When the sounds of cutlery chinking against porcelain plates had finally abated and everyone had eased back into their chairs wearing contented smiles, Magdalene began speaking again. Throughout their feasting, Winter had noticed the old womans plate remained empty. The only substance she consumed was the occasional sip of red wine. She had not yet deigned to remove her veil either. Now you have eaten, let us speak briefly before bed. I understand you all must be very weary, but there are some matters that need discussing. Ive got a feeling the other shoe is about to drop, Jasmine muttered to Winter. Winter felt the same way. The little conversation theyd shared during the meal had been light and superficial. Nobody had broached the topic of what had brought them to Castle Vled. Nobody had mentioned Blake or the Black Mirror. I must admit your presence here is cause for much excitement with the rest of the family, Magdalene began, directing her words to Winter. Ever since Yuri contacted us with the news that you had agreed to help us in our . . . endeavour, I myself have had trouble sleeping. A flicker of emotion passed through her voice. My whole life I have waited for an opportunity such as this. An opportunity for a Bonnaire to venture to the Dead Lands. I only wish I was a

younger woman so I might accompany you on the journey. Growing uncomfortable, Winter cleared her throat. I still dont really know how Im supposed to do this. Open the doorway. You people keep telling me Im a Key, but . . . She shrugged in a gesture of ambivalence. My dear, nobody expects you to be an expert in these matters. Tomorrow, Elena will instruct you. Rest assured it is not complicated. Your gift is a genetic one and as such your participation in the ritual is really all that is required. When will this ritual be taking place? Jasmine asked, clearly sensing Winter was feeling a little overwhelmed. Tomorrow night. Winter dropped the fork shed been nervously playing with. It clattered loudly onto the plate. Tomorrow night? Jasmine said, her expression incredulous. Do you really think thats enough time to prepare? My dear, we have been preparing for nearly a century. I mean for Winter. Magdalenes veil rippled as she tilted her head towards Winter. I understood time was something of the essence for you, child? Your Demori Blake, Winter supplied. Magdalene nodded, accepting the reprimand graciously. Your Blake is being kept prisoner by the hellish creatures that dwell in the Dead Lands, the Malfaerie. Yuri has informed me of the situation. And the nature of the bargain you struck. Thats the only reason Im doing this, she said, staring at the veil. Of course, Magdalene said, though there could have been a faint trace of condescension in her response. Youre doing this for love and as Im sure Yuri told you, I fully intend to see that your Blake remains unharmed. Forgive me, Madame, Winter said, unable to stop herself. I find your compliance a little hard to believe. Your brother I am not my brother, Magdalene said, a warning edge to her voice. I do not share his obsession with the son of

Ariman. There are larger matters at play here. Our fight against the Demori is bigger than a personal grudge against just one of the creatures. If the price I must pay for the greater cause is offering one Demori a second chance, then I do so. Albeit reluctantly. Besides, I understand there is something of a case to be made for Blakes innocence. Thats correct. Ive seen the evidence myself, Sam said, shooting a quick supportive glance at Winter. Well, Magdalene sighed wearily, as though the prospect was deeply unappealing. I shall review this new information, but this is a matter for a later date. After you return. A silence fell over the table, punctuated only by Marcels enthusiastic chewing on a lamb shank. The man could eat. Why are you so interested in the Dead Lands? Jasmine asked. Why do you want to go there? I mean youre not just doing it for Winter and Blake. Winter felt the atmosphere in the room suddenly grow tense. Jasmines question was not appreciated. Young lady, these matters do not concern you directly so I see little reason for having to justify myself to you, Magdalene replied icily. Im interested in this too, and as these matters do affect me, Id like you to answer, Winter said, surprising herself with her own assertiveness. The old woman straightened in her chair. Winter could imagine her expression behind the veil hardening into an angry scowl. Very well, she began stiffly. Over the last century my family has battled these creatures. The fight that began with Ariman spread once we discovered he was not the only Demori. That there was a whole race of the parasites living among us. What started as one mans crusade became a war, spanning four generations of my family. There have been losses on both sides, though in recent times it is we that have suffered more greatly. It is our hope that by travelling to the Dead Lands, where the species originated, we may learn something about our enemy that will help swing the tide back in our favour. This is why we need you so desperately, Winter, and why I am willing to overlook

Blakes continued existence. Youre more valuable to us than you can possibly imagine. With that final pronouncement, Winter felt all eyes shift to her. At that moment, if she could have somehow travelled back to the safe familiarity of Hagans Bluff, transported herself like the Demori, she would have. Anything to get away from those veiled eyes, and the weight of expectation she was beginning to feel pressing down on her. Time for dessert! Marcel cried out, slamming his fork and knife down. He seemed surprised when no-one seconded his demand.

Chapter 44

Jasmine and Winter followed behind Radermire as he led them to their sleeping quarters. After dinner, he had materialised out of the shadows behind the table as though hed been there all along, waiting to be summoned by his mistress. Magdalene had bid them goodnight, taken one of the candelabras from the table and drifted towards the archway, reminding Winter of some tormented spirit, doomed to float through the castle for all eternity. Twisting through the innards of the keep, Radermire wordlessly took them up staircases and down long hallways lined with heavy wooden doors and faded scarlet curtains, which trembled and fluttered in the storm wind. Winter watched the kerosene lamp in Radermires hand and tried not to let her imagination run wild. There was no point being afraid of phantom dangers when there were so many real ones waiting to menace her. Originally they were supposed to have separate quarters but Jasmine had suggested they share the one room, which Winter eagerly jumped at. She would have suggested it herself if she hadnt been so proud. Here she was, only a month away from turning eighteen, and the idea of spending the night alone in this cold and dark place made her feel like curling up into a little ball and sobbing quietly. She wondered if Jasmine felt the same or had just

guessed that Winter did, using that spooky best-friend telepathy trick of hers. As they turned down what must have been the third or fourth long hallway, Winter noticed a pair of doors coming up on their left, different from the others theyd passed. These doors were arched and larger for one thing; for another there appeared to be a soft green glow leaking from underneath. Whats in there? Winter asked as they drew closer. Radermire didnt slow. Castle chapel. Do you need to pray? Unprepared for the question, Winter shook her head nervously. Not right now. Best to stay away then. There are rooms in this castle which clever guests would be wise to avoid. I thought you said we were safe in the castle. Safety is a relative concept, Miss Adams. Winter caught Jasmines eye and mouthed, What the

hell?
Jasmine shrugged helplessly, obviously as unnerved by Radermire and the chapels spectral light as Winter was. Outside the storm continued to beat down mercilessly on the castle. Thunder rumbled overhead and white flashes of lightning periodically lit the hallway ahead of them like bursts from paparazzi cameras. The rain grew louder until Winter realised the persistent patter she heard was not rain but the sound of many footsteps coming towards them. Stand against the wall, Radermire ordered just as a dozen or so men and women Bonnaires came hurtling out of the darkness towards them, the torches mounted on their crossbows jumping over Winter and Jasmines frightened expressions. Once the small battalion had disappeared, Radermire turned towards them and explained, Demori. Smirking at the girls worried expressions, he continued on, lamp bobbing in the dark. After a few more twisting corridors, Radermire abruptly stopped outside a wooden door. This is where you will be sleeping, he said, crossing into the room in front of them. He lit two oil lamps on the dressing table. The lamps

orange glow doubled in the tall mirror against the wall, splashing light across the room. It was a huge space, almost as big as Winters living room in Hagans Bluff. A luxurious looking four-poster bed stood in the centre, easily wide enough to accommodate the two girls and probably a few more people as well. Their suitcases were sitting on a heavy antique chest at the foot of the bed, already open. Somebody had gone to the trouble of laying out their pyjamas. Spread out across the floor was a white wolfskin rug, the animals head frozen in an eternal snarl. There is an ensuite adjacent. Radermire waved his lamp in the direction of a door set near the back left-hand corner. However, Id recommend avoiding the shower tonight as there is little chance youll get hot water. Thank you, Mr Radermire. Winter smiled weakly at him. He looked a bit disembodied with only his hand and face illuminated by the lamp. Please, it is just Radermire. Madame has instructed me to advise that you are free to wander through the castle should you wish, though there are certain areas which are . . . he frowned, searching for the appropriate word in English, unsafe. Winter thought about the chapel and the eerie green light pulsing within. Should you come across a locked door, trust that it is locked for a reason, Radermire continued. In particular, the western tower is off limits. This is an old castle, constantly in need of repair and refurbishment. At the moment, the tower is being renovated and is therefore quite unsafe. There was a flash of lightning outside their window, and the silhouette of one of the towers was haloed against the stormy sky. Winters grasp of geography was hazy at best, but she had a feeling their bedroom faced the west. Is that . . . ? Radermire turned to follow her gaze through the latticed window. He nodded brusquely. As I said, Madame would prefer it for you to stay away from that part of the castle. For your own safety.

Radermires shifty expression piqued Winters curiosity. Was the tower really unsafe or did Magdalene just not want them exploring it and finding something they shouldnt? Now, if there is nothing else I will see you both tomorrow. Breakfast is at eight and served in the dining hall. Goodnight. Goodnight. Winter stepped aside so Radermire could pass them. His eyes flicked briefly to her and then he was gone. The door closed and Winter half expected to hear the click of a key turning locking them in. She felt a little like a prisoner sequestered in her cell. Jasmine must have felt similarly because as soon as Radermires steps had faded she dashed to the door and tried the handle. She peeked out into the hallway, closed the door and whispered, Right, lets go. What do you mean? I mean we need to get out of here. Like, now. Jas, we cant leave! Jasmine crossed to the bed, grabbed her pyjamas and stuffed them back into her suitcase. Yes, we can. Something is really wrong here, Win. Im not just talking about the old lady dressed like death, or Mr Personality. She flicked her head in the direction Radermire had taken. Im talking about the guys with the crossbows. And the fact that everybody who weve met seems to be lying. Something bad is coming, Win. Cant you feel it? Winter stared at her friend helplessly. Of course I can. Im just as creeped out by all this as you are. Probably more. Remember why I came here though, Jas. For Blake. Leaving the suitcase, she took Winters hands, pleading with her. Use your brain, Win. Stop leading with your heart and actually think about the situation. We need to get out of here. The depth of concern in Jasmines eyes was so moving, Winter almost agreed. The idea of grabbing their suitcases and escaping into the night, leaving the castle, the Bane, her anxiety and doubts far behind, was incredibly tempting. I cant, Winter said quietly, dropping Jasmines gaze.

The disappointment she read there was too painful. I have to see this through. I dont have any other options. If you want to leave, Jas, and believe me I completely understand, then please leave. Thats not going to happen, Jasmine said, walking dejectedly back to the suitcase. She opened it and removed her pyjamas, throwing them back onto the bed. She glanced up at Winter and smiled sadly. If youre set on doing this thing, then I guess Im stuck here with you.

Blakes Diary, August 23rd

Father used to speak of destiny and fate. He called it Alos, the river. We are buoyed by its current, he said, though our

course is not fixed. There are many branches and junctions between us and the sea. In this way, we are masters of Alos, as we are its servants.
Returning to Hagans Bluff felt less like a branch than a bend in the river. And the current seemed to flow ever faster towards the end. The first night we passed in this old, shadowy house was long and fitful. Many times Claudette threatened to break free of the holding circle, her will alone seeming to erode the warding runes. I threw her back, binding her ever more forcibly, but still she continued to struggle and so I spent the night watching her, waiting for her to tire and sleep, comforting myself with the knowledge that this was not forever. And now the girl. Winter. I found her on the mountain. This afternoon I set off in search of the church. Walking through these shady woods, the rumble of the ocean in the distance, that sense of being pulled forward towards an inevitable destination grew. I felt confident that every step I took was in the right direction. It wasnt long

before I glimpsed the church ahead through the sighing trees. Pilgrims Lament. Still standing, though the passage of time had worn away much of its simple charm. Great holes gaped in the roof; the stone walls had faded to a chalky white colour; the bell tower lent at a crooked angle; here and there, dank green water stains had formed, the churchs tears of neglect. I tried the front door but it was locked. While it would have been easy for me to gain access, it was not the church I had come to see. Circling around the front, I found my progress to the cemetery impeded by a tall bank of prickly weeds and sword grass. For a moment I was overcome with irritation How dare they let this sacred place become wild? and then a breeze blew through the boughs, making them creak musically, a drift of shimmering pollen enchanted the air in front of me, a bird called a bittersweet tune to another and I forgot my anger. There is wonder to be found when we are quiet and watchful. My heart began to beat faster as I approached the place where wed buried her, a confluence of emotions sadness, anticipation, regret, guilt jostling for position. Her stone had lost some of its shape, the edges nibbled away by the elements. It had a broken, careworn aspect. The epitaph was gone, scraped away by a centurys worth of wind and rain, but I could still see the ghostly impressions of the letters. Madeleine Duchamp. Beloved Mother. Born

1856, Died 1899.

Flowers. I needed flowers. Something to bring colour to the brown and green tangle of weeds lying matted over her grave. I set off into the woods to choose an assortment of wild flowers for the bouquet. It would be the only bouquet I ever gave her so I wanted it to be as perfect as possible. Satisfied with my selection, I returned to the grave, closed my eyes and said a silent goodbye. The air hummed with the buzz of cicadas and then I heard another sound a loud click followed by a motorised whirr. A camera! Whipping my head around, I located the voyeur. A girl stood in the darkness of the church, a camera in her hands. Her hair was the colour of the autumn leaves scattered at

my feet, her skin pale, almost luminescent against the deeper gloom behind her, and then I saw something else that chilled me to the core. Her Occuluma was fading, hardly a spark of blue left. The girl was going to die soon. Shocked by this, I hardly had time to rebound before I made my next startling discovery. There was a gold light shimmering behind her Occuluma. A light I hadnt seen for decades. The light of the Key. Almost immediately, my body began to tremble with hunger. A purely physical reaction that appalled me even while I was powerless to control it. A Key. After all this time ... She must have glimpsed the demon that her light called because her face paled and she stumbled backwards into one of the support struts. The impact was loud enough for me to hear and it was quickly followed by a deep groaning sound from the churchs attic. In a rush, the series of events that were about to unfurl skittered before my eyes. There would be an accident and the girl would die in the church. We are all servants of Alos. We all owe a death. To intercede would be a mistake. No, worse than a mistake it would be cruel. Nevertheless, moments before she was struck by a falling piece of timber, I spirited her away, jumping from shadow to shadow, reappearing in the mossy darkness just beyond the church clearing. She was unconscious as I carried her into the sunlight, but appeared otherwise unharmed. Mercifully, the trips had been brief and the energy Id expended minimal, otherwise it wouldnt have been safe for me to stay with her. Not with that secret light she carried. Cradling her in my arms, I brushed a stray length of red hair. My God she looked like Elisabetta in repose. It wasnt simply the colour of her hair Elisabettas had been a deeper russet it was her lips, her nose, the line of her chin. The girls beauty was unrefined though there was still some of the softness of childhood to her features, whereas Elisabettas beauty had blossomed into maturity early. Still, they could have been sisters.

Behind me came the sound of heavy footsteps, and an older gentleman burst into the clearing, evidently alerted by the commotion. What happened? Is she okay? he blustered, face beet-red with exertion. I nodded, motioning him to be calm. It would not do to distress the girl when she awoke. Perhaps roused by the mans voice, her eyelids fluttered open, and I found myself gazing into a pair of the most open and expressive blue eyes I have ever seen. Looking into those eyes, I saw her light again a storm of golden fire and felt the hunger tense inside me, ready to be unleashed. Prepared this time, I could safely bottle the surging impulse. This wasnt easy, and might have been impossible were it not for the other sign I saw in the girls pupils the twisting, curling, damned crimson flame of the red Occuluma. Mark of the Skivers. All thoughts of desire and hunger were overwhelmed by a growing horror at the consequences of my rash action.

What have I done?!

Escape From The Dead Lands

Lamara froze half in, half out of the bed. Elumen Var was stirring. Her heart pounded so loudly in her chest that she was sure the sound would rouse him, but the Malfaeries eyes remained closed. He was lost in a blissful slumber. Rest was something her body cried out for too; she teetered on the edge of exhaustion. It was only through sheer willpower, by focusing on her hate for the creature, that she held onto consciousness, feigning sleep till his breathing slowed. This was her last chance to act. When he awoke Elumen Var would force her to use the portal and all would be lost. Sliding off the mattress onto the cold stone floor, Lamara drew in deep lungfuls of the perfumed air, needing its restorative power. When her head had stopped swimming and she was confident her legs wouldnt fold beneath her, she moved to the foot of the bed, taking great pains not to rattle the length of chain attached to her collar. She hated the chain almost as much as she hated Elumen Var, but it was the chain that would set her free. Keeping her eyes on the Malfaerie, she quietly looped a section of the chain around the bedpost and then moved

to the other post, doing the same. When she was confident of the tension between the two points she moved closer to Elumen Var. Her shadow fell across his marble-like features. The chain twisted into a noose in her trembling hands. Could she do this? He was so strong. What if he broke the chain? How would he punish her? Death. Despite her value, she had no doubt his rage would be all consuming; an inferno. Could she risk death? Not only for herself but . . . for the other. She could. She slipped the noose over Elumen Vars head and immediately leapt backwards, using her body weight to pull the chain taught. The Malfaeries eyes snapped open, emerald orbs bulging out of their sockets as he was lifted off the bed by Lamaras snare. With Lamara acting as a counterbalance, the chain between the posts quivered but held as he struggled to free himself. Clawing at the chain, an awful gurgling sound started to come from within his throat. His eyes found hers as she strained backwards, trying to maintain the tension between the three points. YOU! was the enraged accusation that shot through her terrified thoughts like a hurled spear. YOU DARE! One hand grabbing the links constricting his neck, Elumen Var reached out with the other and began to pull the length of chain held in Lamaras trembling grasp. She was horrified to feel herself sliding towards the Malfaerie, bare feet slipping across the cold stones. His eyes continued to hold hers captive and a mad grin twitched his lips. YOU WILL . . . SUFFER . . . SUCH PAIN! he promised her and Lamara believed him. Shed been foolish to think she could kill this god-like being, throttle him like he was a mere man. Im sorry, Im sorry, Im sorry, she repeated over and over again. Not to Elumen Var, but to the other. The innocent sleeping within. He had pulled her nearly back to the bed, almost within arms grasp. Soon he would be able to reach out and pluck the chain from her hands.

. . . SUCH . . . PAIN . . .

Lamara saw grey foam bubble at the corner of his mouth. The emerald of his eyes seemed to blaze more brightly for a second and then he slumped backwards onto the bed, the tension of the chain went slack and she fell to the ground. Panting, Lamara waited for Elumen Var to leap off the bed. When the attack didnt come she slowly got to her feet. He was staring up at the ceiling, his mouth locked in a grimace. Black spidery veins had bled across his pupils. More veins had ruptured at his temples, creeping down the side of his face like weeds. He was dead. Cautiously, she bent over him and searched for the small silver key that would release her. It had dropped down near his hairless armpit. Elumen Vars skin had not yet cooled and felt feverishly hot. Trying not to look at his eyes, Lamara carefully lifted his head so she could slip the key from around his neck. His thick black hair was matted with sweat. A horrible stink was rising from his body. Once she had the key, she recoiled from him, turning her back as she worked at the lock around her neck. She never wanted to see his face again. There was a soft click and the metal collar fell from her neck, clattering to the ground. The air felt bitterly cold on the area of skin that had been covered. Gently massaging her neck, she went to retrieve Lixs hood from where shed hidden it behind the curtains. Lamara had coaxed the servant girl into giving her the platinum garment with the promise of a kiss. A brief moment of contact where the Malfaerie might taste her light. Lamara had caught the girl stealing glances at her on numerous occasions while she tended to the room. The kiss itself was nothing. A small price to pay for a convincing disguise. Slipping the hood over her head, Lamara passed through the doorway thankfully unlocked as shed expected; Elumen Var never locked the door when he was there and into the hallway. The tower was quiet as she made her way up the stairs and along the snaking corridors, following the route shed memorised on the three instances Elumen Var had

taken her with him to consult on the construction of the portal. Shed encountered no members of the Var household, though she sometimes sensed their presence lurking behind the walls. Taking the last flight of stairs, Lamara pushed through the doors and found herself in the open air. Elumen Var had chosen, for reasons known only to him, to erect the portal at the very top of his tower, a vantage point so high Lamara felt if she reached up with her fingertips she might brush the clouds churning in the sky above. With only her swelling stomach to mark the passing of time, she guessed it had taken the Malfaerie seven months to complete the construction. The materials were not the same as those sourced by Teodore the Malfaerie had substituted a smooth white stone instead of granite for the outer rings, whereas the central disc was not stone at all, but some other element. It sometimes appeared like metal and other times like water. A mirror the likes of which Lamara had never seen. She did not believe this would affect the portals power. Her instinct was that it was the runes and the shape of the construction that were the crucial factors. And the power of the one who stood before it. When shed first set forth on this dangerous path, shed been afraid her memory, which seemed deeply affected by the perfumed air, would not yield the details she needed for the portals construction. After all, she could barely conjure an image of her mother for more than a few seconds at a time how could she possibly hope to recall the portal in all its intricate glory? Amazingly, it was still there, sectioned away in the back of her mind, untouched by the dark magic of the Dead Lands. Instructing the Malfaerie on its construction had been as simple as commanding the acolytes. Simpler, in fact, as these creatures were far more advanced, their techniques more refined than those of Lamaras people. Ascending the steps to the small platform, she was shocked to see her reflection in the central disc. It had been such a long time since shed seen herself. There were no mirrors in the bedchamber; her grooming was attended to

by Lix and the other servants. She had changed so much. Her red hair hung down to her waist, her facial features seemed to have grown stronger even while her body had softened. Lixs robe billowed around her in the wind, revealing the pronounced curve of her belly, the roundness of her breasts. Soon. Placing her hands on the disc, she was struck by a vast psychic wave that rose up from the tower beneath her feet. One word burned into her mind, sending her staggering.

Murder!
Elumen Vars body had been discovered. They were coming for her, dozens of them. She could feel them, almost see them flying through the hallways, expressions contorted with rage, searching for the one whod murdered their master. She must be quick. Her heart drummed so loudly she could hear it reverberating through her body. Lamara closed her eyes, calling to mind the image of a door. Immediately the disc grew hot and she could hear the faint grinding of the rings as they began to rotate. The door in her mind began to open, and as it did she felt the material ripple beneath her touch. The portal was open.

There she is! Kill her!

The Malfaerie had found her! Lamara dived into the portal, feeling the air where shed stood displaced by snatching hands.

STOP HER!
The darkness of the portal closed around her, drawing Lamara deeper inside. She felt buoyed by an invisible current which swept her away from the Dead Lands. Glancing over her shoulder, Lamara caught her last glimpse of the Malfaerie, framed within the portals disc. Pale-faced figures staring from a distant window. She was free! Falling through the formless void didnt panic her. Shed rather the nothingness of the void than suffer the Malfaerie. Besides, Lamara knew this state was

temporary. Shed been here before. Already she could feel an energy about her, a benign force that shed been too distressed last time to acknowledge. Guided forward, she saw the darkness lighten. Instead of a pulsing emerald light, a pale blue star shimmered in the abyss. She rushed towards it and began to sense that same tightening, as though she were being squeezed. There was a sharp stab in her abdomen, prompted by the invisible hands squeezing her. Lamara was too excited to pay it much mind. She was in the star now. The dancing blue light crept in at the edges of her vision, almost blinding her. Through the brilliance, she could see a picture taking form; line and colour blurring, before becoming more distinct. It was her hut; a hunched shadow in a white wasteland. Orange firelight glowed from her mothers room and Lamara felt joy unlike anything shed ever experienced. She was alive! Her mother was alive! Even the persistent pain in her belly couldnt distract her from the exhilaration that soon she would be home. One last push and Lamara tumbled out of the portal onto the hard stone platform, grazing her knees. Steam rose from her hot flesh, wafting around her like smoke. Home! She was home! Flurries of snow passed in front of her eyes, as she sucked in the frigid air, exhaling the last traces of the Dead Lands wicked perfume. Her mind already felt clearer. Whatever veil had been thrown over her memories was now blown aside by the cool mountain air. Mother. Teodore. Vibrant images of both occupied her thoughts, rushing to fill the numb emptiness that had been nurtured by the Dead Lands. She had to find them, hug them and kiss their cheeks. Tell Teodore and her mother she loved them and would never leave them again. Trying to stand, Lamara stumbled and fell back to her knees. It seemed whatever strength she possessed had been drained by the portal. She would not be able to crawl to her hut let alone walk. Her teeth began to chatter as the icy wind stole her heat. And the pain! Impossible to ignore now. Another cramp racked her body, the pain intent on splitting her in two.

Something was very wrong. Lamara tried to call out but her voice wouldnt come. It had grown shy through lack of use. Tears of frustration pricked her eyes. To come so far only to die here! A figure emerged from the hut and started to run through the snow towards her.

Chapter 45

Winter woke with a start, dislodging Sams notebook from her chest. A melodic chiming seemed to follow her into consciousness, a ghost of a sound ringing in her ears. Had she been dreaming about bells? No. Shed been dreaming about the doors again. Hearing Blakes voice calling to her as she moved down the hallway. Her phone said it was only seven minutes past midnight. Shed been asleep for nearly three hours. Reaching over, Winter picked up the notebook from where it had fallen onto the floor. Jasmine grumbled beside her, the bedsprings squeaking as she rolled away from Winter. Despite sleeping on the plane and in the car, after some more nervous chatter about the castle and Sams peculiar aunt, Jasmine had slipped quickly into a deep slumber. She and Sam seemed to be experts at sleeping. The circumstances or environment didnt matter. In truth, Winter was a little grateful for the opportunity to read in silence. She was desperate to feel something of Blake again. She had turned the pages until the words began to blur and tears filled her eyes. It had been both wonderful and deeply painful to relive that moment in the clearing outside Pilgrims Lament. The image of Blake looking down at her as she lay cradled in

his arms was so clear, so bright that Winter felt like she might conjure him into existence just through will alone. Im coming, my love, shed promised, closing her tired eyes when the tears had finally stopped. What had woken her? Bells? Above the mournful wind whistling outside, she suddenly heard the sounds of men shouting. Climbing out of bed, shivering as her feet touched the cold stone floor, Winter crept quietly to the window. No point waking Jasmine unless there was a reason to. At first she couldnt see anything, the view from the bedroom only afforded a partial glimpse of the wall. The storm was still raging. There was the ring of fixed torches along the parapet, but no men. Where were the Bonnaires standing watch? Suddenly, a series of tiny blue lights darted into view along the parapets crossbow torches. A dozen or so of them. More inarticulate shouting rose above the wind before the voices were snatched away. The crossbow lights darted back the way theyd come, disappearing behind the section of castle that blocked her view. Unsettled by what shed seen, Winter retreated from the window. She looked across at Jasmine lying in the shadows of the windows lattice. There was no way she could go straight back to sleep. What were the watchmen doing out there? What was on the other side of the wall that had prompted such a flurry of activity? Her body thrummed with nervous energy. It was either lie awake and wait till morning or . . . The ringing of bells somewhere nearby gave her pause. A funereal sound. Each gong elongated, stretching until it was too thin to be heard and then the next one sounded. This was what had awoken her, not the Bonnaires. There was no way of her knowing for sure, but Winter had the strongest intuition that the tolling was coming from the chapel. The place where that green light had shifted and danced. Normally, traipsing through the dark hallways of a spooky old castle wouldnt be the sort of thing Winter would find very appealing. Pulling the covers up over her head

and waiting for dawn was much more her speed. Which is why she was entirely surprised at her own actions as she slipped on the blue woollen coat over her pyjamas, took the lamp off the bedside table and tiptoed to the door.

Chapter 46

Holding the lamp ahead of her, Winter started down the hallway. She was afraid, but the fear was small and manageable especially next to the restless curiosity that even now urged her forward. Besides, the Demori couldnt enter the castle so what did she have to fear? Winter realised she couldnt smell any elderflower in the air. Not a trace of it lingering in the damp, cold atmosphere. Whatever magical barriers kept the Demori out must not have required the strange herb. The castle was silent save for the rain outside and the soft rustling of the velvet curtains as they caught rogue gusts. She couldnt hear any voices or sounds of movement behind the doors she passed. Except for the guards on the wall, everyone seemed to be sleeping soundly. Reaching the end of the hallway, Winter paused. Frowning, she swung the lamp around in the gloom, looking for a familiar feature to orient herself. Was this the path theyd taken with Radermire? All these curtained hallways looked the same. She was just about to give up when the tolling began again. It was much louder now. With renewed vigour, Winter started off after the sound, letting it guide her through the twisting corridors. She saw the wide chapel doors and felt a surge of jittery excitement. Yes, the noise was definitely coming from

within! Winter hesitated outside, hand hovering over the door handle. Her gaze dropped down to the light spilling through the crack under the door. The unnatural shade reminded her of another radiance one shed seen while flying over a dead city. The light of Krypthia. Winter wasnt so sure she wanted to see what lay on the other side anymore. Abruptly the tolling stopped, and the heavy silence which rushed in to fill the space made Winter feel even more apprehensive. It was like the whole castle was holding its breath, waiting to see what shed do next. Chewing her lip nervously, Winter reached for the door handle. At first the handle didnt turn, slipping beneath her sweaty palm. She felt a glimmer of relief that maybe the door was locked, and then whatever obstruction was keeping the handle from turning fell away and the door gave. Of course, Winter thought unenthusiastically, Im the Key, remember? Locked door, schmocked door. She stepped over the threshold into the chapel. The shining object in the centre of the room momentarily dazzled her eyes. Shielding them, she squinted until her pupils adjusted. Slowly the bright object resolved into more detail, changing from a mass of swirling green colours to something she could make sense of or not make sense of as it turned out. Sitting on a white marble column in the centre of the room was a mechanical device unlike anything Winter had ever seen before. Four gold rings spun at a moderate speed around a tiny, glowing green orb no bigger than a snooker ball. Each ring was a slightly different diameter, so they could spin and pass through each other without colliding. There was something beautiful and distinctly otherworldly about the device; the way it pulsed and glowed like it was alive. It is called the Fatelus. Almost screaming in fright, Winter whirled around to see Magdalene crossing into the room, her face still obscured by the veil. A black silken bag dangled from her hand, the fabric moulding to the shape of the spherical

object within. I couldnt sleep and Winter began, nervously taking a step backwards. You do not need to explain, Magdalene replied in that soft, ethereal way of hers. You heard the sound no doubt? Winter nodded, grateful she wasnt in trouble. The old woman scared her. What . . . what was it? A warning system, Magdalene said, pointing upwards to a cavity in the ceiling where Winter could just make out the shape of a bell. The bell tolls when the light has nearly run out. Magdalene reached into the black bag she carried and withdrew another orb, identical to the one at the heart of the Fatelus; save for the fact that this one didnt glow. It was just a smoky green crystal ball. Something you might buy at an antique store. Holding the crystal in the palm of her hand, Magdalene lifted it towards the spinning rings. Winters eyes widened in astonishment as the orb started to tremble, then rose from Magdalenes palm as if by magic. It hovered in the air for a second before floating slowly towards the Fatelus. Without breaking momentum, the orb passed deftly between the spinning rings and collided gently with the other orb, knocking it out of place. This orb immediately sputtered out like a blown light bulb and fell to the ground. It rolled along the stone floor, bumping up against Winters right foot and coming to a rest. The usurper globe started pulsing brightly, its intensity much stronger than the previous orb. The rings hummed faster around it as emerald light radiated outwards in rippling waves, filling the chamber. If you will, Magdalene said, nodding towards the orb at Winters feet. Nodding dumbly, Winter tore her eyes away from the hypnotic sight and bent down to pick up the dead orb. Just before her fingers made contact, she hesitated, fearing it might burn her. Dont worry, it will not hurt you. Winter still wasnt convinced. She brushed the orb with her fingertips and was surprised to discover it was cold. Icy

cold, as though it had just been removed from the freezer. Magdalene stepped towards her with the black bag open and Winter dropped the orb inside. Thank you, Magdalene said, tying the bag with a drawstring. Now we are safe once more. Safe from what? Winter asked, her throat clicking as she swallowed. She was still trying to process the spectacle of the orb flying magically through the air. All the bad things outside the castle wall. Magdalene tilted her head to one side inquisitively. Youve seen them havent you? The Demori? No, the others . . . the Skivers. How do you ? You are not the only one with the Sight, my dear. Winter was momentarily too astonished to say anything. Magdalene could see the Skivers. What . . . what are they here for? The old woman remained silent. Instead, she slowly reached up and lifted the black veil. The spectral radiance of the Fatelus washed over her face, pale and gaunt, heavily lined, but not unbeautiful. Winter could imagine that in her youth, Magdalene had been lovely. They are here for me, she said quietly. Her words chilled Winter to the bone. Almost reluctantly, Winter called upon the Sight. The tingling began at the back of her eyes, spreading outwards, sharpening her vision, allowing her to see the invisible. Crimson flames twisted and curled in the depths of Magdalenes pupils the red Occuluma.

Chapter 47

It happened during a Demori hunt with my father, thirty years ago, Magdalene said, locking the chapel doors behind them. The creatures ambushed us, my father was killed and I too would have been if not for the intercession of Caleb. My brother was able to drive them back. It wasnt until later when I returned home and I saw my reflection my eyes that I realised he should have let me die. They started off down the hallway towards Winters room. She held her lamp ahead of them, though Magdalenes confident step suggested she didnt need its light. Winter supposed the old woman had walked these shadowy hallways for many years and could probably do so with her eyes closed. How long have you had the Sight? Since I was your age. As you doubtless know, its more of a curse than a gift. There is little pleasure in seeing when your loved ones are going to die. In seeing the Skivers. She paused a moment before continuing. It is because of my gift that the Skivers have licence to take me. You know of the rules that govern their behaviour in this world? Winter recalled what Blake had told her of the Skivers. Yes. They cant make physical contact with a marked soul, unless

Unless they have been seen by one with the Sight. Then the contract is broken, Magdalene grimly finished for her. Do you know, Winter, what the Skivers do with the souls they harvest? She nodded. Take them back to the Dead Lands. To the Malfaerie. Yes. Magdalenes voice took on a contemptuous tone. There it will be bargained for and sold to the highest bidder. Everything I am, my eternal spirit, reduced to a recreational drug for the immortals. It might not be hell as the Bible describes it, but I can imagine nothing worse. Being consumed, absorbed into another being. Losing yourself completely. She paused at a window, drawing back the heavy red curtain to reveal the parapets in the middle distance, sheets of drifting rain caught the orange light of the torches. That is why I need the Fatelus. To protect myself from the Skivers. When I die, my soul will ascend to heaven. They wont be able to touch me. A staccato burst of lightning threw the storm-lashed landscape beyond the wall into bright relief. Winter could see the ring of Skivers hovering in the air, suspended in space like terrifying marionettes. Magdalene let the curtain fall back. Winters voice trembled as she asked, Does it keep the Demori out as well? Yes, a pleasing side benefit. Nothing from the Dead Lands can breach the wall as long as the light burns and the rings spin. Where did it come from, the Fatelus? You are not the only one to have been favoured by a Demori. In my youth, I too was briefly courted. Her voice grew softer, barely rising above the winds outside. He built the Fatelus for me, and showed me how to use it. Told me it would keep me safe forever. They paused outside her doorway, Winters brow furrowed. But how can you hunt them then? This Demori saved your life. Surely that must be proof that they arent all monsters. They are all monsters, Magdalene said bitterly. In the

end he lied to me. Romance is a game to them. They havent hearts as we do. They cannot love. Winter shook her head. Youre wrong. Blake loved me. Magdalene held up a hand, silencing her protest. Rest well, my dear. Tomorrow is an important day. You will need your strength. And with that she was gone, retreating back into the darkness of her castle.

Chapter 48

Why didnt you wake me? Jasmine hissed beside her as one of the kitchen staff placed a tray of sizzling bacon rashers on the table before them. They had arrived for breakfast early and were so far the only ones seated. Winter shrugged apologetically, having expected this rebuke from her friend. You were sleeping, Jas. I didnt know if I was going to find anything. Jasmine pouted, grabbing a slice of toast from the stack and buttering it. No matter what her emotional state Jasmine always seemed able to eat, unlike Winter whose stomach felt like it had shrivelled to the size of a raisin. Looking at all the food bacon, pancakes, scrambled eggs, toast, various spreads, fruit, yoghurt made her feel queasy. You still should have woken me. Thats what Im here for. What good is it me being your bodyguard if you dont keep me around? Jasmine grumbled and bit into her toast. Winter smiled at her. I know, Jas. Next time. There might not be a next time. Tonights the night remember? How could Winter forget? After Magdalene left, shed lain awake thinking about everything the old woman had told her the Fatelus, the Skivers, the bitter romance with the Demori. It was this last revelation that kept Winter

awake the longest. Not because it cast doubt over her love for Blake, but because it revealed something disturbing about the old woman she wasnt so different from Winter. Just like her, Magdalene had loved a Demori, been gifted with the Sight and found herself living in mortal fear of the Skivers. Unlike Winter, though, Magdalene still suffered. It seemed the one Demori who might have had the power to save her had left her heartbroken. Winter couldnt help but sympathise with Magdalene, and knew this was dangerous. The old woman was not her friend or ally. All she had to do was remember the bitterness in her voice when talking about the Demori to be reminded that she was every bit her brothers sister. To trust that Magdalene wouldnt harm Blake when (if!) they freed him was foolish. And so shed spent the rest of the night trying to come up with a contingency plan, some way she might avoid the inevitable double-cross. Unfortunately, without having the faintest idea about what was going to happen to her in the future, all she succeeded in doing was tying herself into knots. She didnt know what the next hour would bring, let alone what would happen once she travelled to the Dead Lands with the Bane, so how was she supposed to plan for it? Her expression must have revealed her anxious frame of mind because Jasmine lent over and whispered, You say the word and were out of here. Okay? Before she could reply, Marcels booming voice rang through the dining hall. Ah, breakfast at Castle Vled. My favourite time of the day. Apart from lunch and dinner. The jovial Frenchman crossed the hallway towards them and took a seat opposite. I trust you both slept well, yes? I know I did. Very well, Winter lied. Wheres Magdalene? Marcel started scooping bacon onto his plate. She eats breakfast late. I heard men shouting last night on the wall. What happened? Marcel paused, his thick black eyebrows twitching in confusion. Shouting you say? No, I didnt hear anything. I

was dead asleep. Im sure it was nothing to worry about. Youre wrong, Marcel. We should all be worried. The voice came from behind them. They turned and saw Yuri enter the chamber. He had three bloody scratches across his left cheek. What happened? Winter asked, staring at the angry wounds. The Demori, Yuri said grimly, taking a seat next to Marcel. They ambushed us just outside Fort Sombr. At least twenty of them. I was lucky to get away with my life. Two men didnt. Marcels face paled. He asked Yuri something in French, which earned a regretful shake of his head. Was Benedict with them? Winter asked, feeling her blood run cold. I didnt see him, he said, reaching across the table to grab the coffee pot. He seemed eager to change the subject. Perhaps now youre beginning to understand just why youre so important to us. The Demori are growing bolder. Amassing in greater numbers. A battles coming and we must be prepared. I understand you had your own encounter getting here? Winter nodded, remembering the cats swarming over the windshield. We survived. Hows my sister? She was more concerned about Lucy than the Banes war. Shes fine. Well, not fine but . . . I told her the story you wanted me to and she seemed to understand. There were no tears. Winter couldnt help arching an eyebrow. Really? Lucy always cried. Even when she was happy. As I said, she seemed to accept the situation. He lent back into his chair, sipping on his coffee. I think you should be focused on other matters at this stage. Thanks, Yuri, Ill take that on board, she replied sarcastically. Despite his wounded appearance Winters dislike for the man was as strong as ever. Hey. Jasmine joined the conversation. Wheres Sam? I was hoping he might keep me company today. Winter couldnt help glancing questioningly at her friend. Whatever resentment Jasmine had held against

Sam had clearly been put to the side. Sam is unwell, Yuri answered quickly. Marcel glanced up curiously from his plate of food. He was in the infirmary with me last night. Something about pains in his stomach. Apparently he might have suffered some internal bleeding. Is he okay? Jasmine demanded, her worried expression mirroring Winters own concern. Yuri smiled reassuringly. Quite okay. There is no reason to panic. The doctor is treating him now and expects Sam to make a full recovery. However, I very much doubt he will be available to you today. You might have to make your own fun. Jasmine nodded, though she didnt seem entirely comforted by Yuris explanation. Winter wasnt either. Marcels curious look bothered her. If Sam was in the infirmary wouldnt Marcel know about it? Still puzzling over this, she heard the doors behind her open, followed by footsteps on the stone floor. Turning around, Winter saw Elena standing haloed in the morning light. Are you ready to begin?

Chapter 49

Winter followed Elena outside to the back of the keep, where a winding gravel pathway led them to a circular garden. Standing in the centre of the garden surrounded by bobbing petunias, daffodils and swaying fronds was a stone fountain and some marble benches. Goat-legged fauns danced around two voluptuous nymphs who were pouring a steady stream of water from their urns into the pool below. Above them the sky was the colour of the fountains stone: mottled grey. At least it wasnt raining. Please sit. Elena gestured to one of the white marble benches. Okay, so lets get on with this, Winter said, taking a seat and folding her arms. Instruct me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Just how am I supposed to open this portal or Black Mirror or whatever you want to call it? Winters insouciance seemed to irritate Elena. You speak about this as if its a joke? As if you dont believe? Winter shrugged, looking away at the fountain. Im sorry. I guess its my way of dealing with it. She looked back at Elena and shook her head. Between you and me, I think there might have been a mistake. I dont feel like I have any power. Yet you have opened locked doors before. You have used your gift.

I dont know how I do it though, she replied honestly. It just . . . happens. Elena shook her head, dissatisfied with Winters response. It doesnt just happen. You make it so. You imagine the door opening and so it opens. Correct? Winter exhaled thoughtfully. It cant be that easy. It is. The Black Mirror is just another locked door. When you approach it you will place your hands like so. She demonstrated by pressing her palms against an imaginary obstruction. Close your eyes and imagine the door opening. The surface will begin to feel hot, you will see fire, the heat will not burn you, unless . . . Winter arched an eyebrow quizzically. Unless what? She didnt like the way Elena had trailed off. The Russian chewed her lip in deliberation. Yuri will be displeased if I mention this, but you have a right to know. She lowered her voice. If the fire starts to burn let go! Do not hesitate. Winter licked her lips nervously. Why? What does it mean if it burns me? It means you are unworthy. You are not a Key. Seeing Winters troubled expression, she added quickly, There is no reason to be afraid. I am quite sure youre the one weve been looking for. Quite sure? I thought you guys were positive? Now you tell me theres a chance Im gonna catch fire? Way to rock a girls confidence! Forget I said anything and please do not tell Yuri about this. She looked worriedly over her shoulder as if expecting to see Yuri standing there. Elenas distress was both unexpected and baffling. Winter didnt think the woman was capable of such emotion. Its okay, I wont tell him. Elena flashed a quick smile of gratitude and ran her gloved hand nervously through her hair. Thank you. It is just . . . this is very important to him. You are important, I mean. Winter nodded, fascinated by the change in Elena. There was something plaguing her. Something just below

the surface. If you dont mind me asking, how do you know about this? The fire, the Black Mirror everything? Why are you the expert? A strange look came into Elenas eyes. Can I trust you, Winter? It was the first time she had used her name, a fact that was not lost on Winter. Sure. I mean, why not? You asked me how I knew about the fire. She sucked in a breath and began to remove her gloves. I discovered it for myself. You see . . . Winter gasped the hands beneath were ghostly white, the tortured flesh of her fingers looked like melted candle wax. I was unworthy. Why . . . why didnt you let go before the fire before it burned you? I told you before that Yuri saved my life. She pulled her gloves back on. I would have done anything for him. He believed so strongly that I was a Key . . . I couldnt bring myself to share with him my doubts. So, I went through with the ritual and suffered the consequences. Winters gaze drifted to the gloves and then to Elenas tattoo beneath her eye. Life had scarred the woman, not once, but twice. Didnt Yuri warn you? Elenas expression darkened, Winters question hitting a nerve. If he knew about the dangers he would have told me. She sighed deeply, looking away at the fountain. I am supposed to instruct you. Not frighten you. I am sorry. It is just . . . Another sigh, and she turned back to face Winter, her lips twitching as though she wanted to say something further. Nothing, she finished. She reached into her coat and pulled out a knotted piece of black cord the size of Winters fist. The knot was thick and bulbous, the cord looping in on itself, twisting and snaking into a complex mess. This will help you practise your focus, Elena said, tossing the cord to Winter. The knot is a puzzle designed to be solved only by one with abilities such as yours.

Winter frowned sceptically at the knotted cord. Im sure anyone with a pair of scissors could solve this puzzle. You miss the point. It is not the cord that is the puzzle but the complex shape it takes, the twists and turns. Hold it in your hands and feel it not as a solid thing, but as a concept. The knot represents being bound, restricted, locked. Then what do I do? You unlock it. Close your eyes and call to mind the image of a door. It can be any door, but the clearer you can imagine it, the easier a time youll have opening it, so picture a door you know well. A door leading to a place that has meaning for you. Seriously? This is not a science. We are dealing with an ancient power here and for it to work you must close off your logical mind. Magic does not obey logic. It does not obey reason. It reacts to feeling, to confidence, to faith. You must have faith in yourself, Winter. Now, do as I say and close your eyes. She obeyed, listening to the water trickle from the fountain. In her mind, a locked door materialised. At first there was nothing special about the door, it was cream coloured with a brass doorknob, but as she concentrated on it something strange began to happen. The door shimmered, transforming into the entrance to Pilgrims Lament. Winter could see the knots and whorls in the grey wood, the handles bound with a rusted padlock. She felt the rope twitch in her hands and gasped. I dont believe this, she murmured. The lock clattered to the ground, the image in her mind seemingly taking on its own life. Its own sense of action. Slowly, the doors opened outwards revealing a yawning darkness waiting inside. Suddenly, there was a green spark in the darkness. The spark grew brighter, becoming a monstrous fireball which roared towards her minds eye. Winter gasped, the rope falling from her hands. What is it? Elena said, watching her with folded arms. Just a little jittery, she said. Ill get it. She picked up the cord. It had loosened considerably but was still knotted. Elena unfolded her arms and looked at Winter in

consternation. Her gaze jumped to the keep behind, as though checking again to make sure they were unobserved. You are so very young, Winter, she said, lowering her voice. Why are you doing this? You know why. Elena waved her hand in frustration. Yes, yes Blake. You do it for love. I heard you. But these are just words. You know about the risk of fire. However, should the portal open beneath your touch there are things much worse than fire and pain. Worse than even death. Im talking about the Malfaerie. She paused, allowing Winter to consider this threat. I need to know you are doing this for the right reasons. Still a little unnerved by the compassion Elena was showing her, Winter wasnt immediately sure what to say. Eventually, she gestured for Elena to sit next to her on the bench. Okay, let me tell you then. The Bane talk of the Demori as heartless monsters. Ive heard it time and time again. All of you so convinced of your crusade. That youre doing Gods work. But if just one Demori was good, kind and gentle, if one was capable of love, wouldnt that call into question everything? Your beliefs? The war? Elenas face had once again resumed its icy countenance, but Winter saw a flicker of hesitancy. It was enough encouragement for her to continue. Let me tell you about Blake, Winter said. Let me tell you about the man who saved my life. And then my soul. As she spoke, the fountain continued to gurgle and overhead the sky darkened; more clouds were moving in.

Mother

There were sounds in the darkness. Crackling, popping sounds. Sounds she hadnt heard for a very long time but were achingly familiar. Lamara opened her eyes, wincing as the bright orange firelight pricked them. The light was orange. Not green. She felt a relief so deep that it was almost spiritual. Home. Lifting her head slightly, Lamara saw she was lying in the front half of the dwelling, close to the hearth. Somebody had wrapped her tightly in furs. She tried to sit up and a shooting pain stabbed her abdomen. Gasping, Lamara slumped back down. What had happened? What . . . ? There were footsteps coming from the bedroom. Lamara didnt have the strength to turn around, nor did she want to risk provoking the pain again. Teodore crept into view, clearly trying to be quiet for her benefit. He was dressed as she remembered him, in thick grey furs, his black beard spilling over the top. As always, there were flecks of white stone dust in his beard like snow. When he saw she was awake, his handsome kind face split into a warm grin. Youve come back to us, my farseer. He knelt so he was close to her, taking her hand in his.

Lamara tried to answer but all she could do was croak his name. Face crinkling in concern, Teodore raised his hands, gesturing for her to be still. Dont strain yourself. Let me get you some milk. You must be thirsty. He returned a few seconds later with a skin of goats milk. Tenderly, he raised it to her lips. Lamara gulped the creamy liquid down greedily, and would have drunk the skin dry had not Teodore pulled it away. Easy. A little at a time. Her throat well lubricated, Lamara tried to speak again. Months of not using her voice made it difficult. She was only able to manage a hoarse whisper. Thank you, Teodore. How I have missed you. Teodore glowed with pleasure. As I have you, my farseer. This past week has been difficult without you. The acolytes have fallen into chaos, the elders Week? Lamara said, her eyes narrowing in confusion. Had she heard him correctly? By her approximation, Lamara had been Elumen Vars prisoner for nearly a year. Seeing her confusion, Teodore nodded. Yes. I understand this may be a shock. Especially with the state I found you in. Lamara contemplated this troubling concept one year in the Dead Lands was only a week here? Teodore cleared his throat awkwardly and continued, Valloch is dead. I killed him. Once he fell, the others retreated, but I was afraid they might return and destroy the portal, so I stayed here. To keep the doorway safe. For your return. He paused, looking to the fire as though deliberating over how to phrase his next question. Did you . . . speak with the gods? Did you see their faces? Lamaras mouth tightened into a grimace at the memory of the Malfaerie. I did not, she whispered, the edge in her voice causing Teodore to frown in concern. The portal took me elsewhere . . . A bad place. Do not ask me about it.

Please. Of course, my farseer. Of course. As you wish. We will not speak, but there is My mother? How is she? Lamara asked, frustrated with herself that she hadnt asked the question sooner. If shed been gone just a week, then maybe . . . ? Im sorry, Teodore said, his eyes downcast. The gods took her three days ago. She went quickly. he paused, before adding quietly, Eagerly, I believe. Tears welled in Lamaras eyes and spilled down her cheeks. A great sob escaped her lips. Gone. Her mother was gone. Her heart felt like it was bleeding, grief tearing at it like a mad wolf. All for nothing. Her trip to the Dead Lands, the nightmare of Elumen Var all for nothing! An infants plaintive wail in the next room rose above the crackling fire. The sound shocked the tears from Lamaras eyes. What? Who is ? The questions died on her lips as she remembered the pain at the portal. The contractions. Beneath the furs Teodore had covered her with, Lamaras hands found the swell of her belly. It was significantly smaller. A bashful expression on his face, Teodore got to his feet. When I found you by the portal, he began, before stopping, deciding it would be better to show her the source of the sound rather than delay a moment longer. The room seemed to spin around Lamara as she struggled to grasp what had happened. She felt woozy, sick, and . . . excited. The wailing grew louder as Teodore returned with a bundle of swaddling in his arms. Carefully, he lowered the bundle down to her. When I found you, the birthing had already begun. I admit I was greatly confused by your condition, but, he shrugged, such things are not for me to understand. Unable to speak, Lamara brushed aside the fabric folds from the wailing babes face. There was a sliver of fear in her heart. Fear at what she might see. Cold bluewhite skin, dark lips. A Malfaerie child. She almost cried in gratitude when she saw the babys flushed pink

complexion, eyes clamped shut, tears spilling down its swollen cheeks. Human tears. A baby boy, Teodore said, looking down warmly at mother and son. A boy, Lamara repeated in wonder, cooing to the child. After a minutes gentle rocking, the childs cries eased and he opened his eyes, blinking up at Lamara with bright curiosity. He had his fathers eyes, but this did not trouble Lamara as it might have. As it should have. The instant she gazed upon her sons face she was in love. He was hers and she was his. Forever. A name surfaced in her thoughts. An old name. A powerful name. Almost as though the child had spoken it to her himself. Ariman, Lamara said, staring into her childs beautiful emerald eyes. His name is Ariman.

Blakes Diary, August 26th

I finished building the Fatelus in the attic. While the design is much cruder than the device Van Muren showed me the individual parts scavenged from whatever I could find in the house it seems to be functioning well. Naturally, I had to adjust the frequency so it does not repel Demori energy, but other than this there were few difficulties with its construction. The warding stone glows brightly in the centre of the rings, and as long as this continues the house will be protected. My only concern is the rain. Val Murens studies proved that sufficient water could compromise the Fatelus, in some cases cause it to break, so Ive spent the last hour going over every square inch of the attics ceiling searching for cracks and holes. Heavy storms are forecast for the next twenty-four hours so I cant afford to miss anything. I suspect I shall need the Fatelus before the day is through. Winters situation grows more perilous. She has the Sight. Last night, when we kissed on the beach, I felt something awaken in her. A dormant ability. If only Id been wise enough to leave her as soon as we returned from the Dead Lands then this wouldnt have happened. How could I have left her though? After the Banes attack, the drop over the cliffs, the journey through the Dead Lands, I had cause

to worry. Especially because of what shed seen in the Dead Lands. There have been mortals who have been driven mad by a mere glimpse of Krypthia and Winter stared directly into one of the light wells. Who knows what visions the light showed her? She is a marvel, though. Her strength and resilience seemingly boundless. As we lay there on the sand there were no questions, no tears Winter looked into my eyes and kissed me. Even now my body trembles at the memory of her lips pressing against mine. Such purity and innocence. Such beautiful pain. I could taste it all. There was the briefest of moments before the hunger took control when I could have recoiled, but I let it pass. I wanted to kiss her, not because of her light, but because of her. Thank God I had the strength to break away when I did. Moments longer and it might have been too late. Perhaps it already is too late. My kiss might not have killed her but if it has awakened the Sight as I fear, then death might have been a mercy. Nefertem reports that Winter made it home and is sleeping. For the moment she is safe. However, the sky already lightens in the east. The day is coming. It will only be a matter of time before she crosses paths with the Skivers. Once this happens, the rules forbidding them from making physical contact will be broken. They will take her. This is why the Fatelus must work. If I can reach Winter before the Skivers and bring her back to the house, then theres a chance I can protect her. At least until I devise a solution to this dire predicament. There is a possibility forming in the back of my mind. A dangerous possibility but one I must consider for Winters sake. The Malfaerie. They certainly have the power to intervene but I am afraid to speak to them. Not because of what they might do to me, but because of what they might do to Winter should they discover her secret. They have been searching for one of Lamaras sisters all these centuries. I will not be the one to deliver her into their hands. There must be another way!

Chapter 50

Winter turned the page and was distressed to find the next one blank. The rest of the notebook was empty as well. No more of Sams messy scrawl, no more of Blakes thoughts to read. She felt cheated and upset the journal couldnt finish this way! Of course she knew how Blakes story ended. Shed been there for it. However, for a moment, Winter had allowed herself to be swept up in the writing and forget she was part of the story. Blake and Winter were characters in a different narrative one that she didnt know the outcome of. A story that might have ended happily had the author been able to finish it. With a defeated sigh, she lowered the book to her chest. The beat of her heart reverberated through the binding, its rhythm quickening from the rush of emotion and memory. The light falling in through the window had taken on a silvery quality as the afternoon marched towards evening. Soon, it would be time. There was due to be a briefing just before sunset, when Magdalene and Yuri would introduce Winter to the team of Bonnaires that would be accompanying her through the portal. The plan to find Blake would be gone over in more detail the risks they might face and how they would deal with any hostile Malfaerie encounters. Yuri had reassured her that she would be well protected, but Winter wasnt an idiot.

She knew the risks and accepted them. Still, the prospect seemed so unreal. She suspected it would remain so until she was standing before the Black Mirror with her palms against the glass. Then it would seem all too real. Elenas rope lay in a coiled bundle on the dressing table. It had taken a few hours but she had eventually mastered the technique of unravelling it with her mind. The difficulty shed had, however, was not encouraging. She didnt want to end up like Elena with her scarred hands. Elena had declined to walk with her back to the keep under the pretence of making a phone call. When Winter glanced back, she was still sitting where shed left her on the stone bench, frowning thoughtfully into space. Winter wondered if it had anything to do with Blake and the story shed told her. Elena hadnt seemed moved. When Winter had finished, her voice cracking slightly as shed recounted Blakes final moments in Pilgrims Lament, Elena had suggested they continue with the lesson. She didnt comment on Blakes sacrifice or reveal anymore of her own secrets. The brief intimacy that had existed between them disappeared quickly so quickly in fact that Winter suspected she might have imagined it. What she knew was that when she passed through the Black Mirror tonight, Elena would know the reason behind her decision. Winter didnt know why this was so important to her but it was. She placed the notebook in her suitcase and picked up Blakes journal. Opening the worn leather cover, she slowly turned the pages, smiling to herself sadly. Blakes elegant flowing script was as indecipherable as ever, but thanks to Sam she knew the story told through these passages. It was a record of grief and horror. Of infinite sadness and regret. It was also a story of love. Of sacrifice. Not only between she and Blake, but between a brother and sister. Winter frowned there was another entry. An extra entry Sam hadnt transcribed. Reading the date August twenty-seventh Winter broke out in goosebumps. The twenty-seventh the night Blake died. Her breath quickening, Winters eyes frantically traced the words on the page. There was only a single line

 Ce que je fais ce soir, je fais pour elle. She turned the mysterious phrase over in her mind, pulling it apart, examining it. Despite having a feeble grasp of French she felt like she could almost understand the words. That some part of her brain knew what they meant a secret part, all the way back in the recesses of her thoughts. Winter slammed the diary shut in frustration. This was maddening! Blakes last entry and she couldnt read it! If only Sam was around. Where was he anyhow? If he didnt turn up at dinner, she would demand someone take her to him. Not only to ease her mind that he was okay but also to say goodbye. The idea of not seeing Sam before she left was troubling. Considering this, Winter realised there was someone else she needed to say goodbye to.

Chapter 51

Winter walked to the window, the phone pressed to her ear. This was her fifth attempt to get through and she was starting to worry it wasnt going to happen. On arriving in Paris, she and Jasmine had switched on international roaming but the reception seemed sketchy at best. The internet function didnt work either. She felt cut off from civilisation. Alone. The sky was darkening outside, the grey clouds deepening to charcoal as the sun disappeared behind the mountains. It was nearly five. Nearly time for the briefing. She glanced down into the courtyard and saw a flurry of activity as men and women moved between the keep and the great hall, wearing matching expressions of intense concentration. There was an electric sense of anticipation in the air, like thickening humidity before a storm. Her gaze drifted to the base of the wall where she noticed two familiar figures standing and talking together in the shadow of the southern tower. It was Yuri and Elena. Squinting at them, Winter realised they werent talking, they were fighting. Elenas body language was coiled as if any moment she was about to spring at Yuri. As the fight escalated, Elena abruptly turned on her heel and began to walk away. Yuri grabbed her by the shoulder but she angrily shrugged him off and continued on.

He made no move to follow and watched her go, his body language defeated. Intrigued by the lovers quarrel, Winter almost didnt realise her phone call had been answered. Hello? The voice was distant, slightly distorted by a droning whine of interference, but it was unmistakably Lucy. Winter didnt realise how much shed been missing her sister until she heard her voice. Luce its Winter. Hey, Win, why does your voice sound funny? Winter scrambled for a plausible excuse. Um, I dont know, this house has really bad reception. It sounds like youre a million miles away. I am. So . . . how are you? She tried to phrase the question innocently, not wanting to give away that she knew anything about the break-up. Im okay. Tired. We did over three hundred scripts this morning. Everybodys getting sick because of the change of seasons. Scripts? Why was Lucy moaning about pharmacy work when her heart had just been broken? Have you seen Yu Dominic? Winter only just managed to catch her slip-up in time. Nope. I havent heard from him. Ive left a few messages but he hasnt called back. Im starting to think he might have ditched me. Lucy gave a nervous giggle, but Winter knew her well enough to know this was no joke. That rat! Yuri had lied to her face this morning. Apparently, he didnt care enough about Lucy or Winter to fulfil his part of the bargain. The more she thought about this the angrier she became. Win? Im here. Winter did her best to swallow her anger. I wouldnt worry about him if I were you, Luce. Hes probably just sick or something. And even if hes not . . . you can do a lot better. Trust me. Hes not that bad, Win. Hes worse! If you say so. I probably should get going. She remembered where she was supposed to be the beach house. The girls are about to go for a swim.

Swim? A bit late isnt it? For a second, Winter didnt understand what Lucy meant and then she realised the stupidity of her comment. The time difference! Of course Lucy thought it was strange going swimming now. It must be what, nearly nine pm in Hagans Bluff. Not down at the beach, Winter quickly said, struggling to salvage her lie. In the pool. Theres a pool party down the road. Oh. Lucy didnt sound entirely happy with this excuse. Youre not drinking are you? A surprised laugh escaped Winters lips at Lucys question. The amount of alcohol Winter had drunk in her entire life probably wouldnt add up to a six pack of light beer, yet her sister was convinced the moment she was away from her, Winter transformed into a raging alcoholic. No. We thought wed stick to cocaine tonight. Thats not funny, Win! Im sorry, she said, unable to keep from laughing harder. The laughter came easily. Was welcome. The coil of tension that had been steadily tightening loosened a fraction. Her sisters over-protectiveness might have irritated her under normal circumstances, but right now Winter found it comforting. Everything else around her the castle, the Bane, the Black Mirror seemed so dizzyingly fantastic and impossible. Speaking to her sister felt like the only real thing shed done in days. Seriously, Win, if you do decide to drink I want you to make sure you always keep your drink covered. Always, Win! Predators slip drugs into unsuspecting girls drinks all the time. Promise me, okay? While Lucy took a breath, Winter was overcome with such love for her sister that she felt tears burning at the back of her eyes. Her voice broke a little when she answered, Okay, Luce. I promise. Good. There was a short pause while Lucy calmed herself. So, when do you think youll be coming home? Not that you need to rush or anything. Winter took a moment to answer, and when she did

her voice sounded much sadder than she intended. Soon. Very soon. Okay, well just call me when youre on your way. Enjoy your holiday. I will. Luce? Yes? A lump had formed in Winters throat making it difficult to swallow. Goodbye. Bye. Call me whenever you want. Will do. Winter hung up before she started blubbering. Almost instantly, her phone started vibrating in her hand. Jasmine. Hey, Jas. Yo, Win. Whats happening? You sound weird. Nothing, Winter sniffed, wiping her nose with her sleeve. Where are you? I have no idea, Jasmine replied, though didnt seem too concerned about her predicament. I think Im in the northern tower. Ive been walking around for ages. This place is big. And boring. Lots of cobwebs. Are you coming back now? Yeah, I should be there in five or ten minutes if I am where I think I am. If not, send out a search party. Her voice suddenly dropped to a whisper. Winter heard footsteps in the background and guessed Bonnaires were filing past her. Are you still sure you want to go through with this? Something is going on with these weirdos. They all look really intense and serious. Ive got a bad feeling. I know what you mean. Winter had the same nameless dread churning in the pit of her stomach. But it doesnt change anything. Have you sorted out your flight back to the Bluff? Yeah, yeah. I bought the ticket. I bought two actually. Jas . . . I know. Its just . . . She heard Jasmine sigh deeply on the other end. I wish youd change your mind. But I understand. See you soon. Okay. Winter slipped the phone into her pocket and

wandered over to the mirror at the dressing table. She hardly recognised the girl staring back at her in the reflection. The freckles across the bridge of her nose seemed to stand out even more than usual, her skin so pale it was almost shining in its whiteness. Her hair was too long and needed a cut. Grabbing Jasmines brush, Winter started running it through her hair, trying to get the unruly tangles straight. The more she brushed the messier her hair seemed to get. Her bottom lip quivered; whatever walls shed erected to protect herself from the enormity of the task at hand were starting to crack. She could die tonight! That thought triggered the panic attack proper. The ground seemed to shudder beneath her feet, ready to open up and swallow her whole. Get a hold of yourself, girl, she told her image, scrabbling for the lodestone around her neck. Holding it up to the fading light, Winter stared at its rough facets, counting backwards until her pulse slowed and the tide of despair receded. Feeling calmer, she tucked the stone away again. Everything was going to be fine. Just fine.

No, it wasnt.
There were footfalls clattering down the hallway towards her bedroom. The door was thrown open and a red-faced Sam burst in, panting breathlessly. We have to get out of here!

Chapter 52

Whats the matter? Winter asked, noting the fresh bruise below Sams left eye. Ignoring the question, he strode across the floor towards her bag and began to rummage through it. Wheres your passport? Sam slow down and tell me whats going on! Who hit you? Yuri, he spat angrily. Winter, wheres your passport? We need to get you out of here! Theyre coming. Why on earth would Yuri hit you? Because I was coming to warn you. Wheres Jasmine? Shes in the northern tower. Warn me about what? Winter stood in the centre of the room and crossed her arms. Im not going anywhere until you tell me whats going on. Just slow down and talk to me. Sam exhaled in frustration. Its all a lie, Winter. My aunt isnt going to help you find Blake. Winter flinched, though the news wasnt the body blow shed expected. They need me to open the doorway. They do just not for the reasons you think. The team they were sending with me . . . ? Sam was shaking his head. Lies. All lies. Youre going

through the doorway tonight, Winter, but youre going alone. Winter stared at him with incomprehension tinged with fear. It was his panicky expression more than his words that was frightening her. Alone? Sam crossed the room and took her by the shoulder with his uninjured arm. Winter, my aunts going to give you to them the Malfaerie. We need to go! Now! Finding her passport, they rushed into the stone corridor, ducking into doorways whenever they heard the sound of approaching footsteps. Pulled along by Sam, Winter felt numb, detached from her thoughts. Trying to understand the motivations for Magdalenes treachery. Yuri told me about it last night, Sam panted, his gaze darting down the next corridor, checking to see if it was safe. The Black Mirror isnt only a doorway. Its a communication device. Magdalene has been talking with the Malfaerie for decades. Satisfied the coast was clear, he guided her into the corridor, continuing his explanation in rushed, low tones. They have their own portal. Only they have no way of opening it. No Key. Winters legs were starting to burn from the sprint. Sam gestured to an opening in the wall which led to a corkscrew staircase. The northern tower is this way, he said between breaths. Hopefully well find Jasmine soon. Then we can get the hell out of this place. But why do the Malfaerie want to come here when they have the Skivers? Its complicated, Winter. Lets just say the Malfaerie dont want to rely on the Skivers anymore. They despise them almost as much as the Demori. At the moment there is something of a balance the Skivers only take those marked with the red Occuluma. If the Malfaerie didnt need the Skivers if they could travel here by themselves then they wouldnt be bound by the same rules. They could take whoever they wanted. As many as they wanted. Im talking genocide, Winter. These things are more powerful than the Demori and theres more of them. Lots more. They paused at the bottom of the staircase, both of

them panting, trying to catch their breath. A long empty hallway stretched past the stairwell. But why? Why is Magdalene doing this? To protect the castle, Sam replied. She has some kind of device The Fatelus. He was surprised she knew this. Yes. It runs on warding stones. The big secret is shes running out of them. The Malfaerie have agreed to give her a steady supply in exchange for something . . . a Key. Seeing the look of horror in Winters eyes, Sams expression became conflicted. Shes not evil, Winter. The Fatelus keeps out the Demori. Once it fails theyll overrun the castle and kill us all. In her mind, Magdalenes protecting the family. Winter thought back on the red Occuluma shed seen staining Magdalenes eyes. Sam was wrong. It wasnt the lives of all those in the castle the old woman wanted to protect, but her own. And she was willing to jeopardise countless others countless souls! in the process. There was the sound of raised voices. Men were approaching. Glancing quickly around, Sam spied a door across the hallway from where they were hidden in the stairwell. He pulled Winter towards the room, closing the door as quietly as possible. It was another bedroom, one that looked like it hadnt been used for some time. A fine layer of dust coated the bed and dressing table. Why did Yuri ? Winter began to whisper, but Sam held a finger up to his lips, silencing her. The voices in the hallway increased in volume as the men passed by. Once they receded, Winter asked her question again. Why did Yuri wait until last night to tell you this? I think it was a test. He wanted to know if I was still on the right side, Sam said with a sneer. He opened the door and tentatively poked his head out, beckoning for Winter to follow him when he saw it was safe. I guess he knew Id betray him. Betray the cause. The last comment was laced with bitterness. He suckerpunched me. Knocked me out. I woke up in a cell this morning. How did you escape?

My father trained me well. I might only have one good arm at the moment, but it was enough for me to get past the guard Yuri posted. It wont take them long to figure out Ive escaped. We should move faster. Winter stopped, realising that despite everything she couldnt go. I have to stay. Sams eyes widened in disbelief. Did you hear what I said? I heard you. But Blake still needs my help. If the Malfaerie have him then maybe I can help him escape. The vision you saw. It wasnt He caught himself, clearly not wishing to reveal something. However, Winter was too upset to register this hesitation. Winter, this isnt about you and Blake. Its about everyone. The Malfaerie will use you to enter this world. Innocent people will die. Cant you understand that? Sams words cut through her panicked confusion. She realised there was no way she could selfishly put her own love above the lives of everyone else. Was she no better than Magdalene? Studying her conflicted expression, Sams voice softened. There are other ways to Travel. Other doorways. I promise you Ill help you find Blake. He lifted her chin so she could read the conviction in his eyes. But not this way. Not tonight. Now we must go. Reluctantly, Winter allowed herself to be herded by Sam through the castle. He was right of course, but that didnt make leaving her one sure chance of getting to the Dead Lands and potentially rescuing Blake easy. Rounding a corner into another hallway, the two of them nearly ran straight into Elena. There was a moment of shocked silence as the three of them stood staring at each other. Winter felt Sam tense, readying himself to fight. Elenas astonished gaze jumped from Winter to Sam and then back again to Winter. There was no doubt in her mind that Elena knew they were trying to escape. The question was, what was she going to do about it? The silence stretched on, the sound of Winter and Sams harried breathing filling the hallway. Then Elena did

something unexpected. She lowered her eyes and stepped aside. Winter flicked a questioning glance at Sam and saw he was just as confused as she was. Go, Elena said with quiet force. Her gaze was still on the floor. Winter felt Sam tug gently on her sleeve. Cmon, he whispered and they continued on, breaking into a run again once theyd left Elena behind. As the echoes of their footsteps chased them down the corridor, Winter realised she should have said something as they passed. Not goodbye, but thank you. Were nearly there, Sam said triumphantly, guiding her through an opening onto another spiral staircase. They descended quickly taking two, sometimes three steps at a time. Without Sam holding onto her, Winter would have surely lost her footing. Once we get outside, run for the stables. Wait for me there while I go get Jasmine. Theyd nearly come to the bottom and she could see the chamber beyond. It was the keeps vestibule, which theyd passed through last night on their way to the dining hall. Whatever you do, dont The words died on Sams lips as they burst headlong out of the stairwell into the vestibule. On their left, the keeps tall front doors stood open to the fading daylight. Positioned between the doors was Yuri, surrounded by a dozen Bonnaires wielding crossbows. He smiled coldly at them. How convenient. Just the two people Ive been looking for.

Chapter 53

Winter thought about trying to retreat back up the stairs. She quickly decided that while they might be able to outrun Yuri and his men, it was doubtful they could dodge the crossbow bolts. Yuri wouldnt dare shoot Winter but she couldnt be certain he wouldnt fire at Sam. Well, I have to say Im a little disappointed in you, cousin, Yuri said, shaking his head. He walked into the centre of the room. Above him, the grim portraits of Victor and his heirs stared from the wall. Winter wondered how long it would be until Yuris picture joined them. At this moment, with that dangerous, mad light in his eyes, he seemed much more Calebs son than Sam ever had. I was hoping you might have used the time last night to think. Maybe remembered your loyalties to the family. Funny you should say that, because I did spend the night thinking, Sam replied angrily. And I realised something. Youre completely insane. All of you are if you think the Malfaerie will uphold the bargain. Yuris gaze narrowed in disapproval. I see youve told her everything. He has, Winter said, trying to sound as brave as Sam. Sams right. Youd have to be crazy if you think Im going to play a part in this. Yuri again smiled that cruel smile of his. Oh, I think you

will. Now, where is that delightful friend of yours? I thought you two were joined at the hip? As her thoughts raced trying to come up with a way to protect Jasmine, Winter noticed some movement at the top of the staircase beneath the portraits. Jasmine was peeking down over the mezzanines banister, her eyes wide with fright. Wary of accidentally alerting Yuri, Winter quickly looked away.

Please, Jas dont do anything stupid!

Shes gone, Winter said, mustering all her skills of subterfuge. I called her as soon as Sam told me what was going on. I imagine shes on her way to the police station now. Yuris left eyebrow arched and he chuckled to himself. You and your lies, Winter. So entertaining. I very much doubt she would have been able to leave the castle without my knowledge. Shes here somewhere and well find her soon enough. In the meantime, I think we should start towards the great hall. Its nearly time to begin the preparations. Gentlemen, will you escort our wayward guests. The Bonnaires, not a glimmer of compassion to be seen in their stern faces, enveloped Winter and Sam, pushing them towards the front doors. Outside, the light of day had nearly been leached out of the grey sky. The cold wind had picked up again and was snatching mischievously at their clothes and hair. Winter could taste electricity in the air. Im sorry, Win, Sam said, gritting his teeth in pain as the guard behind him roughly jabbed his wounded arm. Its not over yet, Winter whispered back, shivering in the cold. A thought had occurred to her a crazy, potentially suicidal thought, but one that might just carry the seeds of their salvation. Stealthily, Winter slipped her hand into the pocket of her jeans, finding the phone squashed down the bottom. Yuri hadnt thought to search her for it. Using her fingers to map the face of the phone in her mind, Winter rolled her thumb over what she hoped was the call button. If shed pressed the correct button then the phone was dialling the person who had last called her. Jasmine.

Nervously waiting a few seconds, long enough to allow Jasmine to pick up the phone at the other end, Winter turned to Sam and said as clearly and loudly as she dared, So if the Fatelus the weird glowing machine in the chapel was destroyed, all hell would break loose? Sam shot her a confused look. Yeah, I guess so. The device fails, the Demori get in. No more Bane. He shrugged, brow still knitted in bafflement. Her eyes darted down to her pocket, but she wasnt sure if the subtle gesture was enough for Sam to figure out what she was doing. That would be a good thing to happen then, Winter said, risking raising her voice even louder. She tilted her chin down, talking at her pocket now. The device in the chapel being destroyed. Yeah, but you have to be very careful, Sam said, lowering his voice as he guessed the conversation wasnt for his benefit. This is Malfaerie technology you just cant take a crowbar to it. I dont even know if it can be destroyed. The thin thread of hope she was clinging to weakened and then she remembered something shed read in Blakes diary. It can! Water. Water will break the Fatelus! How do you know? Listen very closely, Winter said, ignoring Sams question and talking directly to her jeans pocket. Find a vase or a jug or something and pour water over the machine in the chapel. I dont know what will happen but it should break it. Anyway, its our only shot. If it doesnt work then just get the hell out of here and Be quiet, snarled one of the Bonnaires, a tall man with a blond ponytail. Winter obeyed, hoping that Jasmine understood what she needed to do.

Chapter 54

The great hall didnt look like a hall at all, but instead resembled a crumbling Gothic cathedral stripped of its spires. Above the high-arched doors, flying buttresses framed a wide, circular stained-glass window. The window depicted a golden lion surrounded by crimson and blue washes of colour. This might have been Castle Vleds crest. Lurking higher than the window, weathered gargoyles snarled from the eaves. More creatures had been sculpted into the stone walls surrounding the entrance. Frozen monsters with horrible wolfish faces and long forked tongues. Marching up the stairs, Winter reached out and grabbed Sams hand. He shared with her a quick sympathetic glance, but there was no reassurance in his expression. Just fear. Once inside, the visual associations between the hall and a cathedral strengthened. At the end of the crimsoncarpeted aisle there was a raised platform a chancel beneath three more stained-glass windows. These were smaller than the one over the entrance, and presented separately a lamb, a goat and a bear. The only thing missing from the tableau was a crucifix, but Winter saw there wouldnt have been any room for one. A huge circular object covered in a heavy white sheet and bound with ropes dominated the platform.

The Black Mirror. Tearing her gaze away from this ominous shape, Winter looked around her. Rows and rows of men and women dressed in black, some armed with crossbows, some not, lined the aisle. Three hundred, she estimated, all staring at her, staring at the girl their mistress was going to sacrifice. As she passed them, a low excited murmur began to roll through the hall. Some of the faces, Winter noticed, appeared conflicted as though they werent entirely comfortable with what was about to take place. Unfortunately, there werent enough of these expressions for her to hope that someone would put a stop to this madness. On the platform, a figure stepped into view. It was Magdalene, her funereal garments covered with a bloodred cloak; her face veiled, just as the mirror was. She looked like some nightmare preacher ready to deliver a sermon to the faithful. Staring fearfully at her, Winter hesitated at the platform stairs. Having second thoughts? Yuri asked sarcastically. Now, now, dont forget why you came here. He hooked a hand beneath her arm and forced her up onto the platform. This is your chance to prove your everlasting love for Blake, remember? Dont touch her! Sam cried, and was quickly jabbed again with a crossbow. Smirking, Yuri left Winter and Sam with two Bonnaires guarding them and approached Magdalene. I found them trying to escape, he reported, bowing reverentially. Winter knows everything. Magdalene glanced at Winter and said, her voice whispering like dead leaves in the wind, It is of no consequence. Yuri nodded, moving aside as she strode past him to address the crowd. Winter saw Elena standing in one of the rows closest to the platform. She was chewing her bottom lip worriedly. Friends, Magdalene began, her voice rising above its hushed pitch for the first time. We stand on the precipice of a new age. For a century we have fought this war alone. A

single light in the darkness. I know some of you are afraid. You have heard the rumours of the Fatelus failing. Perhaps you fear that this castle, our home, will fall. That our light will go out. Well, fear no longer. I have taken steps to ensure our continued safety. Tonight we make a valuable new ally. A creature not human, but not Demori. It hates them as we do and has pledged to help us defeat our enemy. As thunder rumbled above them, adding punctuation to Magdalenes speech, she nodded at the two figures who stood on either side of the Black Mirror. These men were also dressed in ceremonial red robes, their faces lost in the shadows of their hoods. Staring at them, Winter was struck with a sense of dj vu. The hooded figures took hold of the ropes connected to the covering and began to pull hand over hand. Slowly, the sheet was raised, revealing the object beneath. There were gasps from the crowd, and other sounds of muttered amazement. The Black Mirror was not what Winter had expected. It was larger and cruder than the image shed formed in her mind. Not really a mirror at all, the central disc was made of a highly polished black stone. Obsidian. Around this disc were two concentric stone rings, carved with strange, curling runes. Looking at these runes made Winters head hurt. They seemed to twitch and snake before her eyes as if they were alive. The sounds from the crowd suddenly changed tone, growing alarmed. Winter was confused by the reaction until she saw the ghostly figures reflected in the stone disc. Not reflections of Magdalene or her robed helpers these images were separate. Other. The Malfaerie! Three lords of the Dead Lands were framed in the mirror, their features hazy and indistinct yet terrifying. Do not fear them. These are our friends. Our allies. The Malfaerie, Magdalene intoned, addressing her congregation once more. Winter noticed some of the Bonnaires in the rows closest to the platform had taken several steps backwards. She didnt blame them. There was something deeply frightening about the apparitions

caught in the dull gleam of the mirror the fact that she couldnt see them clearly somehow made it worse. Magdalenes reassurances worked and the gradual migration towards the exit ceased, though they still looked at the mirror suspiciously. Turning her back on the crowd, Magdalene now approached the mirror. As she passed Winter, the old woman lifted her veil, revealing her features. Magdalene looked almost as scared as Winter felt. A flash of gold drew Winters attention away from Magdalenes pale face. There was a glittering lodestone around her neck. One that looked disturbingly familiar. Before she could dwell on this, Sam distracted her, whispering, When I make the move, run! What are you talking about? Winter mumbled back. Im going to hit Yuri and Dont be ridiculous. Youll only get yourself killed. We have to. Its over, Sam. Therere too many of them. His mouth worked silently as he tried to come up with an answer. She felt sorry for him and sorry for herself. A kind of troubling acceptance was settling over her. Time was running out. It was looking more and more likely that Jasmine wasnt going to save the day. She probably never even received Winters call. The only hope Winter could hold onto now was that Jasmine had escaped. That she would return to Hagans Bluff and tell Lucy everything. Explain why Winter had lied to her. Explain to Lucy about Blake. The thought of her sister grieving was almost too awful to contemplate, but the alternative Lucy never knowing what happened to her was much more painful. Im not going to let this happen, Sam said, finally finding his words. Winter smiled sadly at his defiant expression. I finished your notebook, she said, not wanting to have their last exchange defined by fear. Any moment now Magdalene would force her to open the doorway and sacrifice her to the terrible things that lay beyond. I noticed there was one more entry that you didnt transcribe. I dont suppose

I know what youre talking about, he said quietly. I didnt have time to translate it, but I remember the passage. A single sentence, right? Winter nodded, relieved she would have some closure on the matter. It was a small comfort. Sams brown eyes found hers. What I do tonight, I do for her, he whispered. Thats what he wrote. What I do tonight, I do for her . . . for you. Winters bottom lip trembled. She felt as though a missing puzzle piece had been found. A piece she didnt even know was missing. Her heart swelled with the sentiment of the words, with the love she felt for Blake. The emotion was almost too much for her to sustain. It spilled outwards, filling her with light and warmth. Theres something else, Winter. Something I wanted to tell you. Sam paused, his eyebrows arched in fragile hope. It is time. Magdalenes voice shattered the tender moment between them. Winter felt rough hands pulling her away from Sam, towards the mirror. No! he cried out, struggling against the guard holding him. The red-robed Bonnaire spun her around to face Magdalene. Open the door, Winter. Winter shook her head. No. I wont. Please dont do this! Magdalene scowled, jerking her head towards Yuri. Make her! Yuri marched quickly across the platform to Sam. He grabbed the crossbow off the guard standing to his left and raised it to Sams forehead. The razor-sharp bolt pressed into the skin just over the bridge of his nose, drawing a glistening bead of blood. Sam winced in pain. Do what she says, Yuri said, glaring forbiddingly at Winter. Winter hesitated, her eyes finding Sams. Dont listen, Wint! His words were strangled by a scream as Yuri shot him.

Chapter 55

Sam dropped to his knees, clutching at the bolt jutting from his shoulder. Tears streamed down his face, running as freely as the blood from the wound. His sling turned crimson, ruby droplets spattering the floor. Stand him up, Yuri ordered, and the guards yanked Sam to his feet. He cried out in pain, the whites of his eyes visible as they rolled back. Leave him alone! Yuri smiled with psychotic cheer at Winter. Next time it will be his head. Do you understand? Winter shifted her watery gaze from Yuri to Sam. He was barely conscious. She nodded reluctantly and turned back to Magdalene. Are you ready? the old woman asked her. Yes, Winter said through gritted teeth. Magdalene flinched beneath her angry glare. Winter continued to stare at the old woman a moment longer, enjoying the discomfort she caused, and then turned to face the mirror. The three Malfaerie were studying her with curiosity. Feeling herself pale beneath their cold gaze, her anger dwindled to an ember. Winter closed her eyes. The image of Blake smiling in the dappled light of the clearing outside Pilgrims Lament rose above her frightened thoughts. Ill find you one day, my love, she promised him.

The three Malfaerie watched her from the darkness of the obsidian as she came closer. With every step she felt the expectation in the air thicken behind her, until it felt like a solid form a hand pushing her forward. She paused at the foot of the mirror, feeling incredibly small against its vastness. One of the Malfaerie, the tallest figure in the reflection, seemed to glide closer to the barrier separating them. As Winter placed her trembling hands on the surface of the stone, the Malfaerie on the other side mirrored her. She recoiled instinctively, taking a step back. Continue! Magdalene ordered. Winter glanced back one last time at Sam, his head lolling at an angle. Blood now drenched his entire midsection. She had to go through with this. Trying not to look at the creature, she tentatively placed her palms against the stone again. Almost instantly the surface grew hot, activated by her touch. This was it. She was about to open a doorway into another world and become a conduit for the evil things that lay beyond. Winter thought of Lucy back in Hagans Bluff. Of her friends, of all the people shed ever met in her life and those she hadnt. Could she be responsible for inflicting the Malfaerie upon them? Sam groaned behind her and she realised she didnt have a choice. The uneasy silence of the hall was disrupted by the tolling of bells elsewhere in the castle. Distracted, Winter broke her connection to the mirror. The bells continued to ring, growing louder. More urgent. Thunder rumbled ominously below the tolling, adding to the din. The storm was about to break. Jasmine! Winter had time to think triumphantly before her arm was gripped by sharp, bony fingers. Magdalene held her, features livid with rage. What have you done! she snarled over the bells. Now she looked like her brother a wild, mad thing, intent on murder. What had she done? The room below the platform was in disarray, Bonnaires running to and fro, those higher in command barking orders to those lower. But there were no Demori. No Skivers.

The two red-robed Bonnaires came to Magdalenes side, hoods pushed back from their nervous bearded faces. Madame, we must get you somewhere safe, said one of them, almost forcibly dragging Magdalene away from Winter. The old womans blazing eyes fixed on Winter as she retreated, cursing her where she stood. Winter tried to compose herself. She saw with relief that the Black Mirror had gone dark, the Malfaerie vanished. It revealed nothing now save for Winters vaguely stunned expression, the hall behind her bustling with frightened men and women, and a lone figure lying on the platform. Sam. The guards had left, presumably joining the other Bonnaires in preparing the defences. There was no sign of Yuri anywhere. Quickly, Winter began to cross towards Sam. And then the lights went out.

Chapter 56

The sudden blanket of darkness thrown over the hall brought with it a few seconds of fearful, hushed silence. Eventually, this silence was broken by scattered exclamations and the sound of people moving about again. Lightning flashed through the windows offering Winter a snapshot of dozens of pale faces. Everyone, including Winter, seemed to be waiting to see what would happen next. They didnt have long to wait. She gasped as there was another flash, this time from within the room towards the back wall. A flash of deep emerald that left spots dancing before her eyes. A mans agonised scream rang out and then it was chillingly cut short. Frightened shouts filled the air. One of the Bonnaires ignited a magnesium flare and the hall was suffused with a malevolent crimson glow. Crazy lurching shadows moved across the walls as people clustered together into protective groups, crossbows shaking in their grips. The atmosphere thickened from the smoke of the hissing flare. A trickle of cold sweat ran down her back as Winter watched for the nightmare shed called down on these people to appear. It happened all at once. The room exploded into green light, each flash accompanied by peals of thunder, one after the other, the sound of doorways being ripped open. Black

figures came hurtling out of these explosions. The Bonnaires fired wildly in terror, sending crossbow bolts humming through the dark. Keeping her head down, Winter crawled towards Sam. Twice she heard the whine of a crossbow bolt fly past her head. Any moment she expected to be shot or attacked by a Demori. Sam remained unconscious. Winter brushed his sweaty hair back from his forehead, gently trying to rouse him. He was covered in blood, but Yuris bolt looked like it had gone straight through his shoulder. Her knowledge of human anatomy was sketchy at best, but she didnt think there were any major organs or arteries located there. Sam would live. He had to. We have to go, Sam! Wake up! Please wake up! His eyes fluttered open as he reacted to the sound of her voice. The western tower, he grunted, grimacing as he spoke. Go to the western tower. Winter frowned, the sounds of people dying around her making it difficult for her to comprehend. What? The western tower? I dont understand. The prisoner, Sam muttered, his eyelids drooping. Set him free. He managed one final word before slipping back into unconsciousness. Blake. Sam? Winter cradled his face in her hands. She wasnt sure shed heard him correctly had he said Blake? What prisoner in the western tower? Tapping Sam lightly on the cheeks, she tried to rouse him. Somebody kicked her just below the rib cage. Winter went sprawling onto the hard stones next to Sam, scraping her hands. Winded, she gasped for air and rolled onto her back, bracing herself for another kick. Yuri stood over her, a crossbow in his hands. His sweaty, harried features lit by the fading red luminescence of the flare looked exaggerated and monstrous. You bitch! he growled. This is all your fault! Even if Winter had the air in her lungs to speak, she wouldnt have bothered defending herself. You hear those screams? Those people dying? You

brought this on us! Nursing her bruised ribs, Winter struggled to sit up. You brought this on yourself. Their eyes locked through the smoky darkness. He was looking for fear and found none. This seemed to provoke an even greater rage. With a guttural sound Yuri raised the crossbow, aiming at the centre of Winters forehead. She tensed, ready for the bolt to tear through her. A shape loomed out of the smoke behind Yuri, striking him on the side of the head. Yuri crumpled to the ground, unconscious, revealing Elena holding a splintered chair leg. Are you hurt? she asked Winter once she was able to tear her shocked gaze from her fallen husband. She seemed just as astonished by her actions as Winter was. Winter shook her head. No. Elena dropped the chair leg and reached into her jacket, withdrawing a small leather pouch. Winter had seen its like before in Morningside Cemetery. Warding Dust. Elena quickly loosened the pouchs strap and began tracing a circle, muttering something a prayer? A spell? under her breath. The circle encompassed Yuri, Sam and Winter. Stay in the circle. Stay alive, Elena said, rolling her unconscious husband closer to the centre. Winter was already getting to her feet. What are you doing? Jasmine, Winter replied helplessly by way of an excuse. Elena looked far from convinced this was a sensible course of action, but Winter didnt have time to explain herself. Heart drumming a frenzied beat, she stepped out of the circle and jumped off the platform into the sea of shadows.

Chapter 57

As she sprinted towards the door, leaping over collapsed bodies, she glimpsed enough carnage in her periphery for a lifetimes worth of sleepless nights. Screams rang in her ears, and warm liquid splattered her face. She wiped it off with her sleeve, keeping her gaze fixed on the door ahead.

Dont look back, dont look back . . .

There was a demented giggle and a figure snatched at her as she passed. Winter ducked beneath the arm without breaking stride, running faster. She felt someone chasing her, hot breath on the back of her neck No! Leave me

alone!
A hand grabbed her shoulder, taloned fingers digging into her flesh, drawing blood. Crying out, she was yanked backwards and spun around. The female Demori released Winter and licked the blood from her fingers with a wicked grin. Her thick black hair was tousled, her exquisite features terrible in their beauty. Now, where do you think youre going? Her emerald eyes widened as she stared into Winter, seeing her secret. A Key . . . she whispered, her grin fading, replaced with a look of surprised awe. Before she could act on this discovery, there was a thudding sound and the sharp edge of a crossbow bolt poked through her midsection. A low

keening came from deep within the Demoris throat and she fell to the ground. Shocked by the creatures death, Winter almost didnt see Marcel, sweaty-faced and wideeyed standing behind the Demori, a crossbow shaking in his hands. Go! he urged Winter. Run! Twin shadows loomed behind him, and he whirled around to fire. Winter didnt see whether or not he hit his targets. She was already running for the door. Elbowing it open, she stumbled out into the rain and kept running. There were more bodies lying scattered across the stone steps leading down to the courtyard. Twisted, broken bodies skin shrivelled like mummies. Victims of the Demoris kisses. Winter didnt look at them couldnt look at them just put her head down and ran into the stormy night. Fumbling for her phone, she frantically dialled Jasmines number. Pick up, pick up, pick up! Winter murmured, her panic intensifying with every unanswered ring. There was a muffled click and relief flooded through her. Winter? Jas? Are you okay? Yeah, her tone was high-pitched, borderline hysterical, words coming out in a rush. I did what you said. I found the chapel and a vase and I poured water over that thing. The machine. Radermire was there, Win. He scared me and I threw the vase at his head. I . . . think I killed him! Winter moved into the shadows of a small gardening shed, somewhere between the keep and the great hall. Men were scurrying between the buildings, their blue torches cutting erratic swathes of light through the wet gloom. Slow down, Jas, she whispered, not wanting to draw the mens attention. Where are you? I dont know! Didnt you hear what I said? I think I killed him! He was coming at me, and I was so scared. Hes just an old man. She was crying now, the tears making it difficult for Winter to understand her. You had no choice, right? A small sob. Right.

So then you cant be blamed. Besides, Im sure hes not dead. You probably just knocked him out. You saved my life. Sams life. Youre a hero. The rain beat against her jacket, soaking her to the skin, while she allowed Jasmine the time it took to calm down and accept this undeniable fact. So, youre okay? Jasmine asked tentatively, that needling note of panic gone from her voice. Im fine, Winter replied, keeping her tone gentle and soothing. Her shoulder stung from where the Demori had clawed her but other than that she was unharmed. Now, where are you? I have no idea. Its too dark to see. The lights went out. Where are you? Im . . . Winter held a hand up to her eyes, shielding them as she searched the area, trying to get her bearings. To her immediate left, a cylindrical stone shape jutted up into the darkness. The western tower. The doorway leading into the tower stood ajar, a yawning black mouth. In the western tower. At the very top. Can you get here? The words were out of her mouth before she had a moment to question their sense. Yeah. I think so. I saw it from one of the windows. Is it safe? A tremulous pause. I keep hearing people screaming. Winter hesitated before answering. Just be quick, okay? And try to keep out of sight! Okay. Stay safe, Win. Winter hung up, aware that there was absolutely nothing safe about what she was doing. What the hell was she doing? She should have told Jas to meet her at the front gate. Would have done were it not for Sams mysterious, semi-coherent words reverberating through her thoughts, gathering an almost prophetic power.

Go to the western tower. The prisoner. Set him free. Blake.

It was that last, barely spoken name that started her feet towards the tower. She remembered Radermires

warning about venturing there because of the renovations and brushed it aside. The tower might be unsafe but it had nothing to do with renovations. She was sure of that. Magdalene was keeping something in the tower. Something she didnt want Winter to discover.

The prisoner.
Winter paused at the threshold, indulging one last moment of doubt. She could call Jasmine back and tell her to meet somewhere else. Somewhere safe. A strangled scream rose above the howling winds. There was nowhere safe in Castle Vled tonight. In fact, the tower, separate from the keep and the great hall, might just offer the safest spot to hide out until morning. It was black as a grave inside, the weak light of her phone offering feeble illumination. She might have turned around then and there were it not for the three kerosene lamps she found hanging on the wall near the door. Blackouts were evidently a common occurrence. Taking one, Winter saw by its burnished glow a staircase winding its way up through the core of the tower. There were no sounds coming from above. The guards, if there were guards here to begin with, must have left their posts when the lights went out, drawn by the sounds of battle. Steeling her nerves, Winter began to climb. Water dripped from the ceiling, forming slippery puddles. One misplaced step and she could go pinwheeling back down into the darkness so she trod carefully. By the time she reached the top of the staircase her thighs were burning and she felt a little light-headed. Pausing to catch her breath, she swung her lamp around to form a picture of the landing. She was in a crescent-shaped hallway stretching around the stairwell. There was a bench, and beyond that a thick wooden door with a strange symbol painted across it. Frowning, Winter walked forward, her suspicion that shed seen such a sigil before strengthening as it became clearer in the light of the lamp. Of course! The Velasco Place. The room that had served as Claudettes prison had been marked with a similar crude design. Was there another Demori sealed behind this door?

Blake.
The lamp wavered in her hands. No. It was impossible. Blake was gone from this world, his mortal remains reduced to ashes. The idea that he was in a room on the other side of the door was ridiculous. She thought back to her vision, to Blakes wasted form reflected in the brackish pool of water and the figure torturing him. A hooded figure in red robes. Robes like the ones Magdalene had been wearing. Winter shook her head, refusing to follow this train of thought. What made her reach for the door handle wasnt some foolish hope, but her trust in Sam. Hed earned that trust when he put his life on the line for her. If he wanted her to open this door, then she would. On faith. The door was locked. Winter tried the handle again, willing it to open and nothing happened. For the past twenty-four hours shed heard over and over again about this supposed great gift of hers, the ability to cross dimensions, yet it now seemed she couldnt even get past a simple door. Frustrated, her eyes went to the sigil smeared across the wood. It thrummed with a silent power, making the skin on her arms break out in goosebumps. There was magic in the sigil, some arcane quality stopping her talent from manifesting she was sure of it! But now what was she supposed to do? Shed potentially risked her own and Jasmines life coming here and for what? To be stopped by a couple of inches of oak and a magic squiggle. Set him free, Winter heard the voice say in her head, only it wasnt Sams voice. It was the girl speaking from the dream shed had on the plane. The wild-looking girl with hair the same colour as her own.

Open the door, sister . . . you have the power . . .

Winter stared at the sigil with renewed purpose. It seemed smaller than it had before, less magical. Just paint on wood. Closing her eyes, she placed her palms against the coarse grain and called to mind Pilgrims Lament. The ancient entrance materialised in vivid detail: shadows from the crowding trees swayed restlessly across the bleached wood, the crooked handles, the rusted padlock.

Holding this image in her mind, she was aware of a curious tingling in the depths of her being. This tingling intensified, spreading outwards, threading through her veins before gathering in her fingertips. Pressing harder against the wood, Winter ordered Pilgrims Lament to open, picturing the old lock falling away and the arched doors parting. Her heartbeat surging with excitement, she felt the door swing inwards, creaking noisily on ill-oiled hinges. It had worked! Her hands still trembling from whatever power shed summoned, Winter stepped into the room. It wasnt quite pitch black inside, but murky enough that Winters eyes took a moment to adjust. She was standing in a cell. Around the perimeter were dozens of candle stubs, melted and deformed. There was a single small rectangular window in the sloping ceiling. Smoky amber light slanted in between the bars. Part of the castle had caught fire. Lying in the reddish glow was a figure, naked from the waist up. A thick loop of chain ran from a manacle around his neck to a bolt in the wall. Winter had seen this room before the candles, the stone floor, the shallow pools of water collected in the hollows of the uneven floor. Shed seen this place through anothers eyes. Through Blakes. This was the room of the lodestones vision.

Chapter 58

Blake! Winter gasped, stumbling forward. Any moment now she expected the figure to fly apart like burning paper, prove itself to be an illusion. She crouched on the stones, almost too scared to touch him in case her hands discovered what her mind screamed to be true this tortured form was Blake. Tenderly, Winter took hold of one bony shoulder and rolled the prisoner onto his back. The face beneath the matted, dirty hair was emaciated; the cheekbones disturbingly pronounced; the eyes seemed to have receded back into the skull, they were closed, hidden in the dark cavities; the skin had a pale, greyish quality and was almost translucent in places. Though starved of most of its aesthetic beauty, Winter recognised the face would have recognised it anywhere, and her tentative hope blossomed into a joy, pure and bright.

He was alive!
It was impossible, improbable, but her Blake was here had been for God knows how long. Locked away in this tower like a character in a grim fairytale. Like a blind person, Winter traced the contours of his features, pushing back the limp strands of hair, all the time murmuring, I found you . . . I found you . . . He was here lying in her arms, just as shed lain in his

in the clearing outside Pilgrims Lament. That was all that mattered in this golden moment. But Blake was so cold to touch, so still . . . Winters rapturous expression wavered; why wouldnt he wake up? She pressed her hand to his chest, desperately feeling for a heartbeat. Relief tempered her growing panic as she detected a faint rhythmic pulse. He was alive . . . just. Blake? She touched the iron collar around his neck. Staring closer, Winter saw the blackened flesh around the collar and felt her stomach clench with anger. Magdalene! It had been the old woman all along. Her punishment could wait though. Running her fingers along the circumference of the binding, Winter closed her eyes, imagining it opening beneath her touch. There was no hesitancy in this action; just a grim focus and determination. If she could open locked doors, she could unlock manacles. There was a click and the collar fell away. Winter threw it into the shadows of the cell. Still, Blake remained unconscious. Wake up, my love . . . please, wake up, Winter whispered and bent to give him a kiss. As her lips brushed his, she felt a tremor roll through his body. His eyes slowly opened and gazed weakly into hers. Thank you, Winter offered up her gratitude to God, to the cosmos, to anyone who would listen. Shed been granted a second chance. They both had. Looking into his eyes, Winter had a sensation of coming home, of unrelenting optimism in the face of horror and darkness. And then something changed . . . Blakes glittering eyes widened slightly, sharpened. It wasnt recognition or love she saw reflected in those familiar emerald depths but hunger! Inhuman and absolute. Before she had a second to react, Blake lunged upwards, flipping her roughly onto her back. Crouched over her like an animal, he forcefully pressed his mouth to hers and began to drink. What are you doing? Winter thought, too shocked to feel anything but dumb incomprehension. Why are you hurting me? Her vision swam and then darkened.

GET OFF HER! came the frightened yell, snapping Winter back into consciousness. There was a flash of yellow light, followed by the sound of breaking glass. Blake rolled off her into the cell, trailing smoke. His arm was on fire. Their eyes met briefly before the darkness swallowed him. Already his features looked stronger, more beautiful, flushed as they were with life. Her life. Though still dazed, Winter was alert enough to read the regret in those eyes, the shame, and then he was gone, disappearing in a flash of spectral light. She heard footsteps and then Jasmines worried face was hovering over hers. Win? She tried to answer but there was no breath in her body. Why had he left? Win! Jasmine repeated, the concern in her voice holding Winters wheeling focus. She concentrated on breathing in and out. Smoky air filled her lungs, making her cough. Jasmine helped her sit up, patting her gently on the back to clear her airways. The smell of petrol pricked her nostrils and Winter saw the broken lamp on the stones. Jasmine must have thrown it at Blake from the doorway. There was a pool of kerosene spreading around it like blood. Winters spinning thoughts began to slow, and with it the crushing heartache of the situation became clearer. Are you okay? Win? Please say something. Blake, Winter croaked, her throat contracting with emotion. It was Blake. Jasmine frowned. What do you mean it was Blake? Her eyes widened with comprehension. You mean that thing attacking you? Winter could only nod miserably. Already she was trying to rationalise his attack. Clearly the hunger had been too much for Blake to control. Shed seen how gaunt he was, how emaciated. It must have been instinctual, a reaction to the appearance of sustenance after being starved halfway to death. Im sorry, Win, Jasmine said, sympathetic but anxious to leave. I dont know what to say. But we have to go. Like now! There are bodies outside. The keeps on fire. We

need to get out of this place. Winter didnt want to move, the very idea of it made her exhausted. But as confused and upset as she was, her friend was right. The castle wasnt safe. Blake was alive, that was the important thing. She had to have faith that he would return to her.

Chapter 59

Jasmine quickly filled Winter in on the encounter with Radermire as they wound their way down the tower staircase. He came out of the darkness, after the lights went out. I guess hed heard the bells ringing and came to find out what was happening. I was in the chapel standing over that device. After I poured the water on it, the rings started spinning really fast and it made this horrible sound and sort of exploded. The weird crystal ball thingy fell on the floor and cracked, leaking green light everywhere. Radermire looked like a ghost, flying out at me, calling me names, and I screamed and threw the vase. It hit him in the head and . . . he he went down. Her voice cracked with guilt. I didnt check to see if he was still breathing. I just ran. It was selfdefence though, Win. Right? Of course it was. Youre lucky to be alive, Winter said, struggling to keep her thoughts from wandering back to Blake. If they were to get out of here she needed to focus. The distant sounds of men yelling, guns firing and small explosions swept through the night. Castle Vled was a battle zone. They skittered to the bottom of the staircase and ran into the courtyard. Cold rain stung Winters face, streaming into her eyes, making it difficult to see. The southern tower

was in flames, as was a small section of the keep. Fire glowed behind the glass, transforming its windows into hellish eyes staring down at them from the stormy darkness. Where do we go from here? Jasmine asked, treacherously close to becoming hysterical again. Winter was still too numb to acknowledge her fear, but sensed it seething just beyond the temporary cocoon of shock. Any moment now it would steal inside and shed be just as lost and frightened as Jasmine. Lightning forked overhead illuminating the rain-swept area in more detail, and Winter saw a path leading off to the right into the garden. It wasnt the most direct route to the castles entrance but it would hopefully take them away from the fighting. This way, she said, pulling Jasmine. Running along the slippery cobblestones, they followed the path and found themselves in the garden, surrounded by dripping greenery. Winter realised shed accidentally led them into a dead end. The gravel path didnt continue through the garden. It circled around the fountain before turning in on itself. I was wrong. We have to she was cut off by an earringing thunderclap that came not from the sky but from behind them. Oh no, Jasmine moaned next to her. Neither girl moved, both too afraid to turn around. Feeling a bitter coldness wrap around her that had nothing to do with the pelting rain, Winter forced herself to face whatever was standing there. Jasmine, her eyes squeezed shut, reluctantly did the same. A Demori was blocking the path. Another female, dressed in purple and black leather. Her hair was shaved, rain droplets glistening on the grey stubble of her crown. Cocking her head to one side, she smiled wolfishly at them. Hello, my lovelies, she said in a deceptively silky voice. What do we do? What do we do? What do we do? Jasmine muttered, voice rising in a hysterical pitch, skipping like a broken record. Be quiet! Winter snapped, more forcefully than shed

intended. Jasmines mouth slammed shut, but she continued to whimper softly. They began to back away from the grinning Demori who remained still, watching them. Taking wicked delight in their fear. The edge of the fountain almost at their backs, there was another thunderclap and the grove was splashed with spectral light. Winter whirled around and saw a second Demori circling slowly around the fountain towards them. This ones face was adorned with rings and studs which jangled as he moved. Winter could hear Jasmine starting to hyperventilate beside her. Its okay, Jas, Winter said softly, reaching blindly for Jasmines hand without taking her eyes off the sneering, pierced Demori. Jasmines cold fingers closed around hers. Winter glanced across at her friend and forced a reassuring smile. There was nothing behind the smile though. It was hollow; a clowns smile. They both knew they were as good as dead. More thunderclaps and emerald lightning bursts, a dozen or so, rattled the grove and soon the two girls were surrounded by Demori. Some grinned, some smirked, some wore more neutral expressions; all stared at Winter with shining emerald eyes. Eyes naked in their hunger. They could see her light and wanted it for themselves. However, none broke the circle to come and claim their prize, none ventured forward. They seemed content just to prevent the girls from escaping. A minute ticked by and still they didnt move. Unable to weather the suspense any longer, Winter demanded, What are you waiting for?! If she was to be murdered, then let it happen quickly. Me, the familiar voice came quietly and calmly from beyond the circle. My friends are waiting for me. Winter gasped as the Demori parted and a figure strode into view. It was Benedict.

Chapter 60

There was a sense of inevitability about his arrival. Like the course of a nightmare rising to its zenith. As he came closer she saw that while his expensive suit was torn and stained with blood, Benedicts hair remained as immaculately styled as ever. For some reason this horrified Winter more than the blood. My, my you have led me on a merry chase, he tutted in disapproval. So much trouble over such a little thing. Still, I must thank you. Were it not for your stubborn refusal to die I might have missed all the fun tonight. That would have been an awful shame. Glad I could help, Winter said, valiantly trying to retain her composure. Her eyes flicked past Benedict, searching for an escape route or for signs of rescue. She thought of Sam lying bleeding in the great hall. He could barely move let alone fight off a small army of Demori. There was no-one else to come for them. She and Jas were alone. You want her? You gotta go through me! Jasmine said, her voice shaking. Winter glanced over and saw her friend glaring at Benedict through fearful tears loyal and brave to the last. Benedicts gaze narrowed, and his smile grew colder and crueller. Is that so? Well, as intimidating as you are, my love, Ill take my chances. You see, we have unfinished

business, she and I. Of course, youre more than welcome to watch. Im quite the showman once I get started. Just get on with it before you bore us both to death, Winter said, tired of the game. Benedicts smile faded. As you wish. And with that he lunged across the space between them, pouncing on Winter like a cat. Jasmine immediately ran to Winters aid, but was knocked back effortlessly by Benedict. Winter saw her fly through the air into the waiting arms of a nearby Demori, who caught her like she was a tossed ball. Jasmine! Benedict grabbed her chin, forcing her attention back to him. Let me ! Winter couldnt finish her sentence, the words were snatched away, stolen by the iridescent green of Benedicts eyes. She knew she shouldnt look at him, but it was too late. Already her will to fight was fading, a sad acceptance rushing to fill its place. There we go, Benedict cooed to her, stroking the sides of her face. His breath smelt sickly sweet. Nothing to get so upset about. Just a kiss. Thats all I want to give you. A simple kiss . . . before death. His mouth drifted closer, the hypnotic light in his eyes brightening, eclipsing the night. Thunder exploded and Benedicts features were splashed with green light. Flicking his head in irritation, he growled at the Demori who had materialised. What do you think Benedicts question became a strangled grunt as he was yanked violently off Winter. In a stunning display of strength, the Demori hurled Benedict at the fountain, his body smashing through it like it was made of paper. A shocked hush fell over the onlookers. Blinking in the rain, Winter shielded her eyes. A small gasp escaped her lips. Slowly, Blake turned to regard the crowd of Demori. With his long hair and the firelight reflecting off his rainslicked chest, Blake looked like some primitive warrior come to do battle. Behind the fountain there was an enraged growl as

Benedict picked himself up from the rubble. You dare interrupt? She is rightfully mine! I made the claim. The law Do not lecture me on the law, Blake said, his voice hoarse yet commanding. Winter had never heard him use such a tone before. Who do you think wrote it? His question was met with a shocked murmuring from the crowd. Glancing around, Winter saw there were now at least fifty Demori standing by. You are not he, Benedict said, the trembling in his voice betraying his uncertainty. Not the First. Not the All Father! Sensing her position between Blake and Benedict was precarious, Winter scrambled backwards, not caring that she was shoulder to shoulder with the Demori spectators. She threw a quick worried glance into the crowd and saw Jasmine. She was alive the Demori holding her was too absorbed with the building conflict. Careful little one, Blake said, a dangerous smile creasing his lips. I might be weakened, but I have more than enough strength for you. Watching Benedicts hesitation as he stared at Blake across the broken fountain was enormously satisfying. Still, Winter wasnt sure, despite his confidence, if her love was strong enough to fight Benedict. He was still so thin, so wan. The same thoughts seemed to be running through Benedicts head as he gestured to Blake and addressed the others. Do you hear him? This wretch thinks hes the First, he sneered, clearly expecting the crowd to side with him. Instead, he was met with frowning, worried expressions. Winter didnt know how, but Blakes abrupt appearance had shifted the power balance. Time to go, little one, Blake said, a warning edge to his low voice. Run away, now. Run away. Benedict didnt seem eager to look at Blake, as if by ignoring him he might deny his existence. Fools! Ill show you then! he shouted to the crowd. Prove to you hes an imposter! He now faced Blake, mouth twisted into a feral snarl,

eyes glittering dangerously. Coiling back onto his haunches, Benedict launched himself through the air, moving almost too fast for Winter to see. Mid-air he disappeared in a blaze of green fire, exploding out a second later behind Blake. Blake twisted, catching Benedict as he made a lunge at his neck, and the two of them wrestled violently, exchanging blows. Winter held her breath as Benedict seemed to get the upper hand, raking his fingers across Blakes bare skin and drawing blood. Blake cried out in pain, and stumbled backwards. You see! Benedict crowed. Hes noth Blake leapt forward, silencing him with a series of devastating punches. The wound his enemy had inflicted seemed to have summoned a rage Winter never would have thought possible in her love. Fists blurring, he pummelled Benedict mercilessly, driving him backwards against the fountain. Reeling, Benedict made one last desperate attempt to escape Travelling in a weak flash of light. Blake chased him through the split in reality, leaving the garden vibrating with echoes of their battle. Winters chest started to ache. She let out the breath shed been holding just as there was another flash of emerald light and Blake reappeared, carrying Benedict in a headlock. Im sorry . . . Im sorry, Benedict mumbled, barely conscious. I didnt know. Tears rolled down his cheeks, mingling with the rain and blood. Blake dropped him on the ground and the humbled Demori slowly pulled himself onto his knees, scrabbling at Blakes pants, begging him. Please . . . forgive me, All Father. The First of us. I am your son. Blake regarded him coolly. You are not my son. Winter gasped as Blakes hands shot out in one lightning-quick movement and twisted Benedicts head around, breaking his neck with a loud snap. Benedict, his head grotesquely facing backwards, dropped to the ground, features frozen forever in a shocked expression. Breathing heavily with exertion, Blake turned his forbidding gaze on the rest of the gathered Demori. Leave here. All of you. Now!

There was perhaps a second or two of hesitation as the Demori looked at Blake and then at each other. And then one by one they began to vanish. When the staccato bursts of emerald had faded, Blake closed his eyes and turned his face up to the sky. Winter watched Blake as he washed himself in the rain. Part of her wanted to run and throw her arms around him, the other part pleaded caution. It wasnt just the fact that hed just brutally killed another Demori in front of her, nor was it the memory of his attack in the tower no, it was something else. He seemed disturbingly . . . different. Limping through the mud, Jasmine joined her. Do you think theyll come back? Winter couldnt take her eyes off Blake. No. Jasmine followed Winters sight line to the half-naked figure standing in the rain. Oh my God . . . is it really him? Prompted by the two girls voices, Blake lowered his head from the downpour and frowned. I must apologise, he said, addressing Winter. Before in the castle. I lost control. Are you okay? Winter said, accepting his apology without question. At the moment she was much more concerned with the fact that he was looking at her as if theyd just met. Suddenly, recognition sparked in his eyes, but not the warm recognition of love she was hoping for. Youre the girl from the stone. The statement was a confirmation of her fears. Dont you know me? she said, her voice cracking. Blake, its me! Winter! His confused expression wavered, the creases in his forehead relaxed. Something she said had got through to him, but this new understanding was overshadowed by a kind of pity that made Winter even more upset. Oh . . . I see. What do you mean? What what have they done to you? Tears began streaming down her cheeks. Please, dont be upset, he began, surprised as Winter rushed towards him, burying her head in his chest.

Remember me! she willed him, his skin cold beneath her
hot tears. Hold me, Blake just hold me, she sobbed. Maybe then youll remember? She felt his hands cup her shoulders and gently push her back. Blake stared at her sympathetically with his shining emerald eyes. Im very sorry, I can see how upset you are . . . but Im not Blake. Im Ariman, Blakes father.

Chapter 61

Winter felt her knees buckle and would have fallen were it not for Arimans steadying hand. Help me with her, he called to Jasmine. Both of them gently led Winter to the stone bench beneath the tree. There, they were shielded somewhat from the relentless rain. Is she okay? Winter heard Jasmine ask from far away. It was as though shed fallen down a well. Yes, Ariman said. Shes in shock. Look at my eyes, Winter. Winter could hardly see the two concerned faces floating in front of her. Darkness was pressing against the corners of her vision. Look at me, Ariman repeated, addressing her the way hed addressed the Demori. With authority and power. Winters eyes met his as she came back to herself, her senses sharpening once more. Ariman looked so much like Blake they could be twins. The similarity was cruel and, as irrational as it was, Winter found herself in that moment hating Ariman. Win? Jasmine asked, gently rubbing her hand. Winter tore her gaze from Ariman. Im . . . okay, Jas. Im okay, she repeated, more for herself than for the others. Where is my son, Winter? Where is Blake? His intense, questioning gaze dropped to her necklace. Why

do you wear his lodestone? Hey, buddy! Do you think you could give her some space? Winter shrugged off her friends protest. I can speak. Blakes father deserved the truth, even if the truth was painful to say. Im sorry . . . Blakes dead. Arimans mouth twitched, a small movement that spoke volumes of his grief. His eyes grew unfocused, staring past Winter. After a minutes silence, his eyes narrowed again and grew dangerously clear. The Bane? he asked through gritted teeth. Winter shook her head, forcing the words out. Her throat tried to constrict around them, sealing them inside. No. The Skivers. Arimans mouth dropped open in surprise. Impossible! That they would take one of us! The Skivers were coming for me and Blake offered himself in my place. She paused before adding softly, He died for me. Ariman turned away, staring at the ground moodily. Suddenly, he jerked his head towards her, desperately seizing upon a possibility. When? When did this happen? Startled by the intensity of his expression, Winter drew a blank. Answer me! he demanded, voice booming through the garden. Th-three months ago. The news seemed to both calm and encourage Ariman. Nodding to himself, he muttered, Then there is still time. This whispered utterance was enough to coax Winter from the place shed retreated to inside herself. You mean you can save him? Bring him back? Ariman glanced at her distractedly. Perhaps. He remained in thought a minute longer before giving the girls his attention again. Suddenly he graciously bowed to Winter. I must go now. Thank you for my freedom. He turned and began briskly walking towards the keep. Winter looked to Jasmine for guidance. Her friend could only manage a helpless shrug.

Wait! Winter called after Ariman, jumping to her feet. Where are you going? She ran to keep up with him, almost slipping on the wet gravel. Jasmine followed reluctantly in her wake. Ariman did not break his stride, did not look at her. There is something I must attend to in the castle, he said cryptically. Well come with you, Winter said, struggling to match his determined pace. Are you sure, Win? Jasmine asked from behind. Listen to your friend, Winter, Ariman said, his eyes darting briefly to her. Im not leaving, Winter said firmly. Not until we talk about Blake. I have no interest in discussing the matter with you. Too bad. Im not letting you out of my sight until you tell me about Blake. His jaw clenched in frustration but he didnt say anything else. Im going to wait here, Win, Jasmine said, pulling up short before they reached the keeps high-arched doors. Winter stopped, mindful that Ariman had continued on without her. Are you okay? Yes. Jasmine nodded vigorously. Too vigorously. I just dont want to go back inside. Ill be safe here. The Demori have gone now, and if I hear anyone coming, Ill hide. Winter searched her friends face, bitterly torn. In the end, Jasmine nudged her forward, pointing at Arimans receding form as he marched up the stone steps to the entrance. Go. Youll lose him! Still Winter hesitated. She watched her friend force a smile. Ill be fine. Go and do what you need to do. Hating herself for doing it, Winter nodded gratefully and ran to catch up to Ariman.

Chapter 62

It only became clear to Winter where Ariman was headed when they entered the hallway on the third floor. So much of the castle was a mystery to her but this section she recognised. She and Sam had fled down these turns only an hour or so before. They were nearing the rear of the keep where the sleeping quarters were. And the chapel. Weak slanted light spilled in through the windows from the courtyard, catching flurries of swirling smoke particles. Outside, the floodlights had come back on but the majority of the complex was still without electricity. Luckily the fire had burned out, but the air was still oily and thick, making it hard to breathe. Some of the curtains they passed were still smouldering. Winter wanted desperately to question Ariman further, however, there was something forbidding about his silence. Every time she opened her mouth she remembered the way hed snapped Benedicts neck and thought better of it. The longer she was exposed to him, the more surprised she was at herself. How could she have mistaken this dark stranger for her love? It was true they shared the same face (though even in this aspect, Winter had begun to notice differences; the slightly narrower bridge of Arimans nose, his jawline broader, sharper), but there was a grimness about Ariman that was absent in Blake. He

shared none of his sons gentle melancholy. Instead, Winter sensed a wellspring of anger seething inside him. Anger and pain. A faint, erratic blue glow spilled around the corner ahead. As they rounded it, Winter saw the corridor was full of scattered torches. Some pierced the gloom steadily, others damaged, sputtered on and off, their flickering light lending the hallway an eerie quality. Momentarily distracted, Winter didnt see the object at her feet and nearly tripped. Catching herself at the last moment, she saw what shed nearly fallen over and cried out. It was a body, the skin hanging loosely off the skeleton in papery, grey folds. The eyeballs of the corpse stared sightlessly up at Winter, milky-white. Unbothered by the body, Ariman strode on leaving Winter to discover the hallways other horrors. There were more corpses sprawled amongst the shadows, blue torch beams picking out a leg here, a hand there. For some reason, seeing these scattered body parts in the smoky darkness was worse than seeing the entire corpse. Bile rising at the back of her throat, Winter wished shed stayed outside with Jasmine. Ariman walked blithely through the carnage towards the chapel doors. They were wide open, the inside chamber invisible from her position. She saw him pause on the threshold. Fixing her gaze on his bare back, Winter ran forward, not looking down even when she nearly stumbled again over something heavy and warm. Joining Ariman in the doorway, Winter let out another gasp of fright. The bodies in the hallway were nothing compared to the nightmare waiting in the chapel. Skivers. Dozens of them stood shoulder to shoulder, their bald, elongated skulls gleaming in a weak green light that came from an obscured source, somewhere towards the back of the chamber. As Ariman stepped forward, the Skivers slowly swivelled in unison to stare at him, moving as though they were one instead of many. A subdued clicking filled the air a greeting or a warning. Either way the sound made Winter want to plug her ears with her fingers and

scream. Arimans confident presence and the knowledge that these things could not harm her were the only thoughts that kept her by his side. She was not marked. The Skivers parted as Ariman walked slowly forward, Winter following close behind. She could feel their black eyes regarding them with curiosity, and caught glimpses of their grins expanding and contracting as though they were about to burst into laughter; a chorus of demonic clowns. The green light brightened as they drew closer to the back of the room. Winter saw the pieces of the Fatelus lying on the ground and what was throwing up the sickly phosphorescence. The emerald orb had cracked, its liquid contents spilling across the stones, pulsing like radioactive sludge. Mesmerised by the sight, Winter nearly bumped into Ariman when he stopped. She looked around him hesitantly, curious despite herself, to see what had frozen him in place. Magdalene knelt on the ground, a small crude circle of Warding Dust surrounding her. This was evidently what was keeping the Skivers at bay and likewise had forced Ariman to halt. The woman was finally veil-less; thick white hair flowing away from her haggard face in a mad tangle. She was sobbing quietly, gently rocking back and forth. The corpse of Radermire lay sprawled in front of her, his head resting in her lap. Sensing Ariman, Magdalene tentatively glanced up, the red Occuluma brighter than ever in the depths of her wretched gaze. Around her neck, the lodestone Winter had glimpsed during the ritual, shone dully. Now she realised why it had seemed so familiar. Ariman had used it to call her from the beach in Hagans Bluff. Somehow he must have stolen it from Magdalene. She found you, I see, the old woman said contemptuously, not bothering to wipe the tears from her face. Ariman nodded, and said quietly, with a surprising amount of tenderness, It is over, mistress. Magdalene looked back down at Radermire as though she hadnt heard him. He loved me, she said, pushing back the mans blood-stained hair. We never spoke of it

but I know he loved me. From the beginning. Reluctantly looking at Radermire, Winter realised that Jasmine hadnt murdered him as shed thought. His face had the sunken, caved-in look of a Demori victim, though it appeared the creature hadnt finished the job; there was still flesh on this corpses bones. Perhaps Ariman and Benedicts battle had distracted the murderer, calling it away before it could drain Radermire completely. The Fatelus is broken, Ariman continued in that same quiet, tender manner. You have a choice to make. Magdalene raised her head, a pathetic expression of confusion in her eyes. It wasnt supposed to happen this way. There should It was always going to end like this. I told you from the beginning. Magdalene looked like she was going to say something more, and then lost the words. Instead, she bent down and kissed Radermire on his forehead, muttering something Winter couldnt hear; a farewell. She then rose to her feet, smoothing the front of her dress and quickly combing her fingers through her hair in a gesture Winter would have found charmingly girlish under different circumstances. Have you come to rescue me, my dark prince? Magdalene said, venturing as close to the edge of the circle as was safe. She smiled nervously at Ariman, her eyes too wide, the desperate fear swirling there clearer even than the Occuluma. Ive come to offer you a choice. Magdalenes smile faltered, and she stared at Ariman reproachfully. It might as well have been the two of them standing alone in the room, for all the regard she paid Winter or the Skivers. Dont you remember the kindness I have shown you over the years? How I would come and sit by your feet and listen to your stories when all the others shunned you. I remember the beatings. You should have set me free, mistress, Ariman said with a weary sigh. I would have, Magdalene began, her tone growing hysterical. It was my father! My father! He

Your father died a long time ago. Take responsibility for your actions. Magdalenes cheeks coloured, her gaze dropping to the floor. After a moments brooding silence, she whispered, And so we find ourselves here. You have a choice. Me . . . or them. Magdalene looked past Ariman and seemed to see the Skivers for the first time. They reacted to her fearful gaze, an awful, excited chattering briefly filling the chamber, sending shivers of revulsion up Winters spine. What is it like? she asked, facing Ariman once more. All the colour had drained from her already ghostly white features. It is quick. And painless. Better than what they have to offer. She seemed to deliberate for a moment before nodding just once, the movement almost imperceptive. Taking a trembling breath, Magdalene stared into Arimans eyes and said, Forgive me, my dark prince. In answer, Ariman spread his arms, opening himself up to her. Her eyes drenched in fear, Magdalene quickly stepped out of the protective circle and into his arms. As Ariman embraced her, the mad chattering of the Skivers increased in volume. Winter glanced around anxiously as the grinning faces drew closer. She turned back just in time to watch a ripple of emerald flames wash over Ariman and Magdalene. No! Dont! Winter cried out, but they were gone before the words left her lips, their outline held in the shimmering ghost light for a second or two before fading into the darkness. Winter stared with incomprehension at the spot where Ariman had stood, feeling a harsh stab of despair digging into her chest. She was so upset that she didnt immediately realise he had left her alone with the Skivers. Heart pounding, Winter felt terror obliterate her despair, sweep it aside like the tide covering a sandcastle. The Skivers gathered around her, black eyes and long, needle-like teeth reflecting the eerie light of the broken Fatelus. Winter faced them as bravely as she could. She

felt their anger, their cold, inhuman hate. Squeezing her eyes shut, she waited for them to swarm over her. She wouldnt scream. Not for the pleasure of these monsters. She opened her eyes a crack and saw that the chapel was now empty. The Skivers had gone, returned back to the Dead Lands. Back to where Blakes spirit was still held captive.

Chapter 63

Winter walked out of the keep and down the stairs into the courtyard. Hed left her. Left her without so much as a goodbye or hint at what he planned on doing. She tried to feel angry and frustrated, but couldnt hold onto the emotions for long. She didnt have the strength. Mostly, she just felt defeated. Pausing at the bottom of the stairs, she tried to spot Jasmine. Jas?! A sound of rustling came from behind the rose bushes just out of the floodlights glare and Jasmine poked her head up like a startled meerkat. She ran to Winter, embracing her tightly. I was thinking the worst thoughts, she said. I should have gone with you. Did you see the bodies? Winter swallowed nervously. Yeah, I saw them. I dont blame you for not wanting to go back in, Jas. She looked comforted for a moment and then a faint crease appeared between her eyes. What about Radermire? Did you see him? Yes. But you didnt kill him, Jas. It was a Demori. Jasmines tense expression relaxed considerably. Youre sure? Yeah, youre in the clear.

Thank God! She exhaled forcefully, exorcising her stress and guilt with the breath. Winter was grateful she could alleviate her friends anguish. Now, if she could just alleviate her own. Glancing past Winter to the keep, Jasmine asked, So, wheres Ariman? He left, Winter said, unable to keep the resentment from her voice. He took Magdalene and just left. Went to the Dead Lands. He took Magdalene? Why the hell would he do that? Winter frowned. The Skivers were there, she began, trying to make sense of what shed seen. Ariman seemed to . . . take pity on her. He offered her a choice him or the Skivers. She went with him. He saved her life? No. Just her soul. They had some kind of history but I dont think he was going to forgive her for keeping him locked up all these years. Magdalene wont be coming back from the Dead Lands. Jasmine chewed this over. And Blake? Whats he going to do about him? He said there was still a chance, right? I dont know. Winter looked away moodily into the courtyard. We didnt have time to talk about it. While shed been inside the rain had stopped. The storm had moved on to the mountain range in the distance Winter could see thunderheads pulsing with purple and yellow flashes. The night was no longer full of screams. A subdued peace seemed to have settled over the castle. Well, thats good then, isnt it? Jasmine asked tentatively. Ariman will save Blake. We can go home now. Winter looked at her friends hopeful expression and wanted more than anything to say, yes, but she couldnt. Instead, she said, Lets check on Sam. I completely forgot about him! Hes okay, right? I think so. Watching Jasmines face fall, she was quick to add, Im sure hes fine, Jas. Elenas watching over him. This information did nothing to calm her friends fears, and Winter had to double her speed to keep up as they headed back to the great hall.

Chapter 64

Not all the Bonnaires had perished in the Demori attack. Drawing near the front steps, they were greeted by a man and a woman carrying a third man on a stretcher. The Bonnaires didnt acknowledge Jasmine and Winter as they passed on the steps, clearly more concerned with the bleeding man lying between them. The two girls shared a wary look, and then continued on. Entering the hall, Jasmine made a croaking sound of revulsion in the back of her throat. Someone had managed to get the electricity back on, but Winter wished they hadnt. Yellow sodium arcs overhead made the grisly reality in front of them impossible to ignore. Bodies lay strewn from wall to wall, Demori and human alike. Mercifully, most of the corpses had been covered with jackets and other garments, so Winter was spared looking into dozens of sightless eyes. Where is he, Win? I dont see him, Jas said, her voice tinged with worry. Over there, Winter pointed to the platform. Sam was propped up against the wall talking to Elena as she strapped his wound. Thank God! Jasmine cried and increased her pace, ignoring the dead at her feet. Sam smiled weakly at them as they mounted the

stairs. Youre alive, he said, wincing as Elena tightened the strap. What happened to you? Jasmine asked, rushing to his side. You know me Im not happy unless Ive been beaten or shot, Sam replied, trying to shrug and hurting himself in the process. Who gave you that? Jasmine asked, grimacing as she studied his bloody shoulder. Sam gave Elena a cautious glance. Without looking up from the length of bandage she was currently cutting off, Elena answered tersely, My husband. Where is Yuri? Winter asked, searching the hall. There were twenty or so Bonnaires moving across the floor space tending to the wounded, but no sign of Elenas husband. He is gone. She didnt say where and it didnt seem important for Winter to ask. Elenas expression was characteristically stony, but Winter could still read traces of tortured emotion there. Guilt. Can I talk to you alone for a moment? Sam asked. Winter nodded. Sure. She had a few questions of her own she wanted to discuss with him. With some help from Jasmine, Sam painfully got to his feet. He limped over to Winter and led her away from the others, down towards the base of the Black Mirror. Did you go to the tower? he said, keeping his tone low. Yes. Did you I found him, Sam. I found Ariman. Sam nodded in quiet satisfaction. He glanced down at the sea of bodies. Is that the reason the Demori left? Did he make them Why didnt you tell me about him earlier? I wanted to, Sam replied, unable to meet her accusatory gaze. I was scared youd do something stupid. Like try to get to him. To help you find Blake.

I would have. Then they would have stopped you. Maybe hurt you. He was my aunts greatest secret. Winter fell silent for a moment, her anger at Sam subsiding. There didnt seem any point in holding onto it. How long was he in the tower for? Since I can remember. Hes the reason we know so much about the Demori. About the Dead Lands. About everything. Only those in Magdalenes inner circle were told about Ariman. He looked out at the hall, at the Bonnaires moving among the dead. If the others knew we held the First then they probably would have killed him. They wouldnt have understood why we needed him. Winter frowned, puzzling over the fact that Ariman would willingly help the Bane murder his own kind. Then she remembered the wasted state of him, the bruises on his body, and quickly guessed he hadnt been a willing informant. Where is he now? Sam asked. Hes gone. Did you tell him about Blake? Winter slowly turned away from Sam, her attention shifting to the Black Mirror towering over her. I did, she said distantly. Trapped in the glossy surface of the stone, Winter could see a young woman staring back at her. Her clothes were dirty, covered in mud; her features were similarly dirty with clean tracks down her cheeks left by the tears. The girl in the mirror looked about ten years older than Winter. Well what did he say? Sam asked, a tinge of impatience in his voice. Is he going to help you? She didnt answer him. Instead she let her gaze travel over the expanse of the mirror, over the snake-like runes engraved across the outer rings, over the liquid black surface of the obsidian. She noticed in the mirror the girls sad expression change. Become thoughtful. The ghost of a determined smile graced the Dark Winters features. Okay, I understand youre upset with me. Thats fine, Sam said, misinterpreting her silence. You let me know when youre ready and well talk about getting you and Jas

back home. Home, Winter repeated wistfully. Where was home? Was it back in her room, spending countless nights staring at the ceiling, trying to ignore the gaping hole in her heart? Winter didnt want to go back to that home. She was tired of waiting. Tired of feeling like a victim of fate. For once she wanted to be its master. An idea was forming. One that should have been terrifying but felt too right. Too true. Her eyes scanned the floor until she spotted what she needed: a discarded crossbow loaded with half a dozen bolts. Winter picked it up and slung it around her back. Tightening the strap around her middle, she turned to Sam. Promise me youll see that Jasmine gets home safely. Jasmine was staring at the two of them with a worried expression on her face. Elena, too, was watching them intensely. Her gaze met Winters briefly, and widened in shock as though she could read her thoughts. I dont understand, Sam said, his perplexed gaze jumping from Jasmine to the crossbow. Whats with the crossbow? What do you Realisation dawned and Sam became agitated. Winter no! Goodbye, Sam, she said, offering him one final smile. Somewhere deep inside, Winter had always known it would come to this this moment where she took a step into the unknown. Then there is still time, Ariman had said. And there was . Winter could feel it. Time to save Blake. Only she wasnt going to sit back and wait for someone else to do it for her. Sams cries of warning at her back, she placed her hands on the surface of the stone and closed her eyes. A low grinding sound reverberated as the outer rings began to turn. Heat radiated outwards from the mirror, and she could feel the fire building within, but did not fear it. The fire would not burn her. She was the Key. What I do tonight, I do for him, Winter murmured, and opened the door.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Every book is a journey. Not just for the reader but for the writer as well. Experienced travellers know that long journeys are best undertaken with a companion. Someone to help share the load and carry you when the way proves hard. I was incredibly fortunate to have many people support me during the writing of this book. Firstly, Id like to thank my agent Lyn Tranter for plucking me from obscurity and giving me a career. Without her this book wouldnt have found its way to a publisher and consequently into your hands, Dear Reader. In regards to my publisher, words arent enough to express how happy I am to work with the fine folks at Pan Macmillan. Alexandra Nahlous, Leah Channells, Libby Turner and Charlotte Ree not only proved to be passionate champions of the book, but also helped to shape and refine the story into its best possible form. Their contribution cannot be emphasised enough. Two other major contributors were Peter and Cate Hearle. Both are extremely savvy when it comes to finessing tricky plot points and I couldnt ask for better sounding boards. Theyre pretty good parents, too. Living with a writer isnt always fun (in fact, its rarely fun and often boring) so Greta Lackey deserves a special mention for never being anything less than patient and loving. I couldnt wish for a better companion on the journey, my love. Lastly, Id like to thank you, Dear Reader, for picking up my book. The places it takes you are sometimes dark and frightening though please believe me when I say you wont be travelling alone. Ill be there with you.

M.J. Hearle became addicted to stories at a young age. After years of trying to go straight, it was somewhat inevitable that he turned to dealing them himself. He currently lives in Glebe, Sydney and dreams of one day owning a pug. Winters Light is his second novel.

ALSO AVAILABLE FROM PAN MACMILLAN M.J. Hearle

Winters Shadow
Blake Duchamp . . . Hes all that Winter Adams can think of. Ever since their fateful meeting at Pilgrims Lament. Ever since he looked at her with those emerald eyes. Ever since he saved her life. But Blake isnt all that he seems. There is a strangeness about him, something dark and otherworldly. Something dangerous. In his attic is a secret he would kill to defend, but Winter seems to have a special ability to make him forget his duty. And he is her only protection against the gathering darkness. The only problem is, to protect Winter, Blake must risk exposing her to an even greater danger. Himself.

First published 2012 in Pan by Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Ltd 1 Market Street, Sydney 2000 Copyright M.J. Hearle 2012 The moral right of the author has been asserted. All rights reserved. This publication (or any part of it) may not be reproduced or transmitted, copied, stored, distributed or otherwise made available by any person or entity (including Google, Amazon or similar organisations), in any form (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical) or by any means (photocopying, recording, scanning or otherwise) without prior written permission from the publisher. This ebook may not include illustrations and/or photographs that may have been in the print edition. National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication data: Hearle, M. J. Winters light / M.J. Hearle. ISBN 9781742611037 (pbk.) A823.4 Adobe eReader format: 9781743346723 EPUB format: 9781743346747 Online format: 9781420296068 The characters and events in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Typeset by Midland typesetters Cover design by XOU Macmillan Digital Australia: www.macmillandigital.com.au Visit www.panmacmillan.com.au to read more about all our books and to buy both print and ebooks online. You will also find features, author interviews and news of any author events.