Текст книги "The Cold Kiss of Death"
Автор книги: Сьюзан Маклеод
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Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 23 страниц)
Only ...
... only I didn’t want to kill Malik.
No, I wanted to kill the evil bitch sorcerer Hannah.
Even as I thought it, pain ripped like wild fire through my body as needle-like teeth bit into my inner flesh. I doubled over, my hand clutching at the steel collar, unable to stop the bloody tears streaming down my face as the world exploded into white-hot torment.
After what felt like an eternity in the centre of the inferno, I managed to work out how to make my mind shape the words the imps wanted.
I’ll kill him, okay.
The pain dulled in increments to a dull ache. So that was the deal: either I tried to kill Malik, or the imps would eat Rosa’s body while I was still inside it.
Catch 22, anyone?
Chapter Twenty-One
The dimly lit bedroom was larger than the lounge, and decorated with so much blood that it looked like an artist’s rendition of a murder scene; bright red arcs sprayed up the dusk-blue wall behind the king-sized bed, blotted the white silk sheets and splattered dark trails along the thick blue carpet. Malik and Darius lay spooned together on the bed in a tangle of pale, blood-drenched naked bodies. A cacophony of conflicting emotions—desire, hunger, jealousy, anger and shock—cascaded over me and my dialled-down vampire senses sprang back to life. My heart thudded in my chest as I inhaled the strong tang of copper, saliva pooled in my mouth and my stomach rumbled with emptiness. Listening carefully, I could make out two heartbeats, both slow, but both steady. He hadn’t killed Darius. Then the urge to crawl onto the bed and join the two vamps exploded in my mind, not to satisfy my hunger, but to rip their throats out, tear them limb from limb and bathe in their blood, just for the pure gleeful fun of it.
I took a step forward, and another, following the urge, my feet and the chain I was dragging, scuffing over the carpet, then I swayed, dizzy, as I made myself stop. Damn! Looked like the imp-imparted psychosis thing was true, then! The imps don’t only consume their host, they infect them with their irresistible enjoyment of chaos and violence.
And fuck, was Malik a messy violent eater or what?
The thought brought an edge of hysteria to the laughter rising in my throat. I strangled it before it could escape—much as the imps wanted me to do to Malik. I looked around the room for anything that might help me: pale wood desk, plasma TV, a laptop, its screen dark, a half-open door to what had to be a bathroom, and the same wall of glass as in the lounge overlooking the dance floor—but no handy priest or bottle of Holy Water in sight. I was going to have to complain to the Blue Heart’s management for their lack of foresight. After all, the nearest church was a five-minute run away ... an idea almost formed in my head—
The spike-sharp pain in my left kidney prodded my attention back to the bodies on the bed and my allotted task.
‘Well, this is cosy, isn’t it?’ I drawled, my voice calm enough to conceal the horror eating through my body. ‘Shame I’m going to have to break up your little blood—and love-fest, Malik, but I’ve a present here with your name on it.’ I snapped a length of the chain between my hands; it made a loud chinking sound. ‘And the hell-heated coals I’m dancing on are getting impatient.’
Malik raised his head to look at me over Darius’ shoulder, his eyes half-lidded, his expression sleepy ... but nowhere near soft. He took in my costume. ‘Hallowe’en has come early, I see,’ he murmured.
‘Apparently it’s old Liz’s favourite film.’ I did a twirl.
‘The disguised princess chained to the monster.’ He quirked his mouth in a mocking smile. ‘Subtlety never was Elizabetta’s strong point.’
‘So. Are you finished here?’ I jerked my head at the almost comatose Darius. ‘’Cos I’m feeling a lot impish and I think we should get on with the killing part of the evening now before it gets too late.’
‘Impish?’ He frowned, shifting to prop himself up on his bent elbow.
‘Yep, that old demon magic thing.’ The chain bit into my palms as my hands tightened around it. I eyed Malik’s long narrow fingers, which were resting against Darius’ impressive bloodstained six-pack; did Malik have to look as if he’d enjoyed himself quite so much? And why was I feeling antagonistic towards someone who was supposed to be no more than a necessary evil in my life? After all, it wasn’t like I really wanted thatsort of relationship with Malik myself ... or did I? Or was that just Rosa or the imps influencing my desires again? I shelved the questions for later. If there was a later.
‘Of course,’ I carried on, ‘I still have choices and consequences, ’ and conscious of any listening ears, I spoke the next words in my head, hoping he’d hear them: ‘ They come down to you or Rosa’s body, in fact, because once the sun rises over the horizon, I’m back in my own—body, that is.’ Gnawing pains around my knees accompanied my thoughts and my legs almost buckled. ‘So unless you managed to get ordained at some point during your last half-dozen centuries—any faith will do, neither the imps nor I are fussy—or can come up with a quick liquid solution, preferably one that’s been blessed’—I raised my eyes to the heavens—‘the bell’s about to chime for Round One.’
‘Time will wait for this, I think,’ he said. Blue fire lit his pupils and cast a peaceful glow through the dim room. He brought his inner arm to his mouth and bit into it, then, cradling Darius’ head, he offered his bleeding wrist. Darius didn’t appear to notice. His eyes were still closed, his face slack and sated, then Malik lowered his lips to the other vamp’s cheek, the dark silk of his hair half-covering their faces, and murmured something too low for even my own enhanced vampire hearing to make out. Darius opened his mouth and latched on to Malik’s wrist, sucking greedily like a babe at a teat, his body responding with evident pleasure. I watched, mesmerised, the spicy scent of Malik’s blood teasing me, the harsher scents of copper and liquorice, and something else, something that my mind was struggling to recognise: a bitter-sweet smell like fermented flowers ...
A popping sound brought me from my reverie as Malik worked his finger between Darius’ lips and disengaged him from his arm, and a vague memory that I’d experienced something like this before brought my brows together in a frown.
‘ My apologies, Genevieve,’ Malik said, his voice sounding regretful in my mind. ‘ Whilst Elizabetta’s plans are not a surprise, if I had realised how Hannah might choose to augment them, I would not have accepted her offer of sustenance.’ He sat, pulling the sheet up over Darius. ‘ You must make every effort to do as she wishes, and I will attempt to minimise the damage to us both.’
‘Easy enough for you to say,’ I muttered, scowling, as I tried to figure out where my uneasiness was coming from, then winced as another jagged pain speared through my solar plexus and wiped the thought from my mind.
Malik slid gracefully off the bed and strolled naked towards the wardrobe. My gaze followed the fine line of his back as it tapered from his sculptured shoulders down to his waist, then on past the taut, hard curve of his butt and down the long muscles in his thighs, watching as they flexed and stretched and the dimples at the back of his knees creased with each silent lift of his elegant feet. The sight had lust coiling tight in my belly, pooling with enough heat to drown out the prickly irritation of the imps scratching inside me. Then I blinked as he stood facing me, the silk triangle of dark hair on his pale chest arrowing down past the rose-burst scar to the black leather trousers he now wore low-slung on his narrow hips.
‘Now you may try and kill me,’ he said. There was a patient, almost amused edge to his smile, as if he’d been standing there, waiting for some time.
I clenched my fists round the chain. What was going on here? I might be distracted enough by eye-candy to not notice time passing, but the imps, not so much, I’d have thought. Ignoring the shooting pains in my biceps that forced me to lift the chain, I glanced at Darius, then back into the flames that flickered like blue gas jets in Malik’s eyes.
‘Your eyes usually glow red, not blue,’ I said, tilting my head speculatively to one side as I added two and two and got rather more than four. ‘Darius is of the Blue Heart blood-family. And the Earl had a habit of stopping time; it was one of his favourite tricks’—except the Earl’s eyes hadn’t lit up; his skin would just turn blue, like fine porcelain, but hey—‘so I’m guessing you didn’t just feed off Darius, you somehow managed to gain some of his bloodline’s power?’
Malik’s smile widened, letting me glimpse fang. ‘Feeding off other vampires has its compensations.’
‘Great,’ I said through gritted teeth as claws raked along the inside of my hip. ‘Any chance you can keep me and the imps suspended until dawn, then let me catch up or something?’
‘The effects are not long-lasting, but it would be possible.’ He stepped towards me, a smooth, careful motion that wasn’t meant to spook me but nonetheless made my heart up its beat. ‘But I do not have until dawn, so we must see how this trick can benefit us now.’
‘Why don’t we have until dawn?’
‘Darius’ blood was poisoned; half an hour is the most time we have.’
Fermented flowers—Nightshade!‘Fuck, so that’s what Hannah meant when she said she’d evened up the odds.’ His vamp-healing would eventually clear the poison from his body, but not before the poison knocked him unconscious while it worked its way through his system, which is never a great option when someone is looking to wrap a chain round your neck and use it to decapitate you.
‘What about him?’ I jerked my head at Darius.
‘I have removed enough of the poison that it now only incapacitates him; it will not be fatal.’
Maybe Malik wasn’t such a messy eater after all.
‘I take it you’ve got a plan?’ I asked, almost doubling up as the imps sent a wave of sharp-teethed pain through my stomach. ‘Because I’m not sure I can hold off from trying to kill you for much longer.’
‘Of course.’ He inclined his head, an amused smile crossing his face. ‘We shall give them all what they want: a show.’
‘Okay,’ I said doubtfully, ‘except I’m not sure there’s going to be much “show” on my part.’
He spread his hands, his mouth quirking. ‘Ladies first.’
I swung the lighter cuff end of the chain, twirling it in short circles around my head, getting its momentum up, then snapped it out with a flick of my wrist, the movements as automatic as if I’d performed them a hundred times before ... which maybe my body had, just not with me in it. The chain snaked out lasso-like and thudded around Malik’s neck—
–or actually, rattled into empty space and thudded on the carpet.
Malik was standing three feet to the left, his arms loose and easy at his sides, his gaze steady.
I yanked the chain back, whipped it low behind me and lashed out again. He shifted and raised his arm, catching the chain and holding it firm while I started to pull, using all my vampire strength. I might have been trying to heave a mountain. He laughed, the sound shivering over me like a teasing spring breeze with just a hint of the heat to come, then let go, and I stumbled back, crashing into the desk, sending the laptop bouncing to the floor. I screamed with rage and the imps inside me jumped with excited glee, egging me on. I hefted the chain, reversing it so I was swinging the collar like a mace. The weight of it felt wrong, lopsided, but I let it fly, aiming for his chest, willing it to keep straight and true. He dodged, but it caught him a glancing blow in the ribs, and the sound of them cracking was as loud as breaking ice. Inside me the imps cheered as he staggered back, nostrils flaring, blue fire blazing in his eyes.
‘A lucky hit,’ he said softly.
‘Maybe not,’ I said, just as softly, remembering how he’d opened the bedroom door earlier. ‘ Isn’t Rosa your blood, and don’t you have some sort of kinetic powers?’
‘ Rosa is of my blood, but she did not inherit all my abilities.’
‘Don’t bet on it.’ I said as I pulled the chain back and swung it round, all in one easy movement, then let it loose again.
Malik moved like a pale blur over the bed, but I was ready, using my will to guidethe chain, aiming for his head. He dived and rolled, and the collar connected, though it hit his shoulder blade instead of his skull. He rolled again, coming up hard against the window, and I flicked my wrist, the chain snaking out towards the larger target of his torso.
But before it hit he was rolling again, regaining his feet and lunging at me. His shoulder thudded into my stomach, lifting me up and driving me back.
My back hit the wall first, then my head, and the plaster gave way, debris exploding everywhere. I dropped the chain and grabbed for Malik as it clanked to the floor. I screamed, digging my fingers into his back and scoring my nails down his skin.
Hissing in pain, he heaved me up and over his head, throwing me into the glass wall. It cracked with a sound like a thousand gunshots, bowed outwards ... and gave way, and I stared down into the empty air, feeling the music thumping like a giant’s heartbeat in my head as tiny chunks of glass fell like sparkling ice cubes towards the oblivious dancers thirty feet below.
I hung suspended, my toes balanced on the edge, my arms windmilling back, desperately trying not to fall.
It would hurt, a lot, but it wouldn’t kill me; Rosa’s body would heal the damage.
But the crowd of humans below? Their bodies were way more fragile.
The imps chortled with glee while, panicked, I tried to force myself back—
Then relief washed over me as I realised I was suspended, in time as well as space; I wasn’t going to fall.
Malik’s arm encircled my waist and the hard edges of the gold-metal bikini dug into my back where he pulled me hard against him. Then the gold collar closed round my neck and his voice shouted in my mind, ‘ Now we fly, Genevieve!’
My pulse started speeding, the imps squealed in ecstasy and he stepped out and launched us into the air.
‘But vampires can’t fly,’ I screamed, the sound lost ...
Chapter Twenty-Two
We floated in time and space as the lights strobed around us in a brilliant multi-coloured net of beams, and music, too loud, too harsh and too fleeting for my mind to decipher any recognisable rhythm, bashed against my ears. Salty sweat and clashing scents—perfumes, aftershaves, deodorants and fruity drinks—rose up on a miasma of body heat that visibly shimmered in the criss-crossed strobe lights. And reverberating through it all, like a beacon call to my blood, was the discordant bass-beat of a thousand hearts pulling me under, a tidal wave of pulses drowning me in the metallic tang of hunger and longing and need, until all that existed was prey...
An expanse of empty floor opened below us: the hot, glowing bodies of the excited humans were being herded by cooler shadows—vampires, their hearts still and quiet, their faces blank and closed—who were putting themselves between me and my prey.
Not that it would save them.
My bare feet touched down on the wooden floor, the arm around my waist loosened and I straightened, breathing in the scent of recently taken blood. The ache in my jaw intensified and I knew I couldn’t be content with a sip this time; the incandescent itch in my veins urged me on. The encircling crowd drew away as I stalked towards the nearest rosy-hued humans, the anxious, high-pitched laughs and frantic pulse-beats almost lost beneath the heavy beat of the body-vibrating music. I reached out with my mind, intent on locking them in place, not bothering with my usual cat-and-mouse; just needing to devour. The nearest was young. He grinned nervously at me, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. My gaze snagged on the pulse jumping under his jaw and I snarled, lips curling back from my fangs. His eyes widened, pupils dilating in sudden fear, then my mind closed like a steel-trap around his, his face blanked with mind-lock and the connection between us quivered like a plucked string. I reached out and grabbed the minds of a dozen glowing bodies around him, anchoring them to my will, holding them ready: easy prey.
Anticipation tightened my body and my nipples stiffened against the unyielding metal of the bikini and slick heat contracting between my legs—but this wasn’t about sex; sex was being held down, beaten and broken, unable to stop them, no matter how much I begged—
I pushed the intrusive thoughts away and growled low in my throat, a satisfying animal sound. Now it was my turn to rip and tear and damage and offer pain, again and again, and my turn to laugh as they pleaded and cried and screamed as I penetrated their weak, fragile bodies. The visceral desire for blood spiralled through my body. I crouched, preparing to leap, spreading my fingers, watching as my nails elongated and sharpened into skin-slicing claws—
The metal collar choked into my throat, jerked me back, keeping me from my prey. I whirled round, screeching with rage to face him.
‘No!’ Malik ordered. ‘You will not do this.’ He yanked the chain up, the links stretched taut between us, then jerked again, pulling me forward until I stumbled and fell to my knees before him. His face expressionless, he held out his hand to me.
I slashed at it, drawing blood, then grabbed at the chain with both hands and tried to wrench it from his hold. He would not stop me, not this time.
His arms and shoulders strained with effort as he held me in place.
I calledto the humans caught with my mind and heard the collective gasp as they moved up at my back. Then his mind tore into mine and severed them from my hold, locking my rage inside his icy stillness.
The pounding music cut out, leaving silence. Then a rustling murmur started as three spotlights picked us out, pinning us within their overlapping circles. Far away, a voice in my mind—his, mine, someone’s—muttered, ‘ Showtime.’
Elizabetta, wearing her youthful face, appeared at Malik’s side, her bronze broadsword resting on her shoulder like a pike-staff. ‘You would not believe me when I said she was feral, Malik al-Khan.’ Her words amplified outwards as if through a megaphone. ‘Now you can witness for yourself that your curse has again manifested in your bloodline.’
‘This is due to your meddling, Elizabetta,’ Malik responded. ‘She is contaminated by a demon—even your carefully nurtured blood would turn feral with such encouragement.’
‘Pah!’ Her dress shifted, the beads clattering triumphantly, and inwardly I shredded the sneering smile from her face. ‘It makes no matter whyshe is like this; she must be dealt with before she causes more disquiet.’ She held out her sword and placed the point at the base of my throat. ‘Shall I dispose of the bitch myself ’—her fangs extended over her bottom lip—‘or would you like to do the honours?’
‘No,’ Malik said quietly, his eyes flaring blue. He reached out and took the sword from her unresisting hand. ‘No, she is mine. It is my responsibility to rescind her Gift.’
I snarled, even though the part of me not wanting to rip his throat out knew he didn’t mean it, knew it was some sort of ruse, knew he wouldn’t kill me—the Rosa me—because then we would both die ... wouldn’t we? Looking up into his face, seeing his implacable expression, I wasn’t quite so certain. But I was still locked by his will; I couldn’t move, couldn’t fight.
Inside me, the imps boiled and burned, impatient, intolerant of their inability to force me to violence.
‘But first, she will bow to my hand.’ He let the chain drop from his grasp and it fell to the floor in a rattle of links.
‘Nooo!’ Elizabetta lifted her foot and lowered it slowly back to the floor, a stamp made slow by his hold on time. ‘I will ... not ... allow ... it.’
‘The choice is not yours, but belongs to Rosa.’ He knelt on one knee before me, blood-tinged sweat beading on his forehead. ‘ Genevieve,’ I heard the gentle command, ‘ you must repeat these words: I offer you my oath, accept only you as my liege and drink of your blood.’
I repeated his words, my voice harsh as if rusty with disuse, my mouth struggling to form the syllables past the scorching pain constricting my throat.
He touched my cheek and ice spread through my veins, freezing the imps into calmness. He held out his wrist. ‘ Now feed, Genevieve.’
I kept my eyes on his, drew my lips back and struck, sinking my fangs into his skin, sucking hard, desperately.
‘ Be ready to run, Genevieve, at my command.’
He stood in one smooth motion, breaking my hold on his flesh as he drew me up with him. Then he looked up, and I saw through his eyes Hannah watching us from the broken window, her face contorted by magic. She lifted her arm and traced a glyph through the air. It glowed brightly before streaking down to slam into my chest, freeing the imps and sending them screaming in triumph through my veins.
Malik turned back to me, eyes dark and shadowed and drew back the sword ...
Disbelief and outrage filled me. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t dare—
... and plunged it into my body.
The blade sliced into me—
–and I stared down at the hilt where it pressed up in my stomach, feeling the sharpness of the blade cutting through my heart, and the hard length that protruded from between my shoulders. ‘ Whatever happened to running?’ I screamed in my mind. Then pain shattered through me, spinning me out in a tornado of golden dust, and I spiralled into the red-dark depths of memory.
My fourteenth birthday.
My wedding day.
I stood, tall and straight as I’d been taught, in the centre of the great hall. The high mullioned windows were open to the faint moonlight and the distant bark of a fox was the only noise other than the soft sound of my breaths. The guests—all vampires, not a human or fae amongst them—surrounded me. A handful I knew, those of my father’s blood, but the rest were strangers, here to see their liege lord take his sidhe bride.
I stood, shock numbing my mind, ignoring them all, pretending to ignore the still-warm blood that drenched the hem of my gold-brocade dress and soaked into the thin fabric of my shoes. Blood that smelt like sweet ripe pears.
Sally’s blood.
Sally had been given to me as a present on my twelfth birthday: my very own lady’s maid and companion. We were supposed to be inseparable, two young girls growing up together, but Sally was three years older than me, and she wasn’t interested in being friends, not with me, anyway. Not that I minded; she was pretty, with her pale blue skin and long blue-white hair, and part fae—her great-grandmother was a Cailleac Bhuer, one of the Blue Hags—so I’d been happy just to follow her around.
My prince—my betrothed—Bastien, the Autarch, the monster—came towards me. He let the sword fall from his hand and it clattered to the ground. His bare feet soaked up the blood, leaving unbloodied footprints on the flagstone floor. The wet ends of his hair dripped down his shoulders. The splatters on his face looked like teenage freckles. Not even his height—he was close on six feet tall—could make him look much older than the fifteen he’d been when he’d accepted the Gift.
The shadows followed behind him, always present, never breached, never mentioned, and never revealed—
Only now I knew what the shadows hid: Malik al-Khan, the Autarch’s ... what? The question rose like an accusation out of my memory then sank slowly back into the darkness.
‘You are looking very beautiful, my sidhe princess.’ The monster’s handsome young face smiled, a joyous, open grin that didn’t hide his fangs, nor the gleam of lust for pain in his eyes.
‘Thank you, my prince,’ I whispered, unable to stop my legs trembling the closer he came.
The monster executed a low, elegant bow and held out his hand to me. Sally’s thin plait of blue-white hair lay limp in his palm. ‘To the victor the spoils, is that not right, my bride?’
I curled my shaking fingers into the heavy material of my dress. I didn’t want to be the victor; I’d never wanted to be the victor—I hadn’t even realised there was a contest until it was waged and lost. I’d always known he would have others as well as me, for my father had educated me well. In my future there had been no winners or losers, just fairy tales of happily ever after with my prince. But Sally hadn’t known the rules; she’d set out to win, unaware her battle was a barely noticed skirmish until she’d staked her victory flag where all could see it.
‘Do you not want my gift, my lovely sidhe?’ He wiped the plait across his bloody chest and presented it again. ‘Is this not what you wanted?’
‘ Take it, Genevieve.’ The order came into my mind and my hand reached out and snatched the plait from his palm before fear or conscious thought could stop me.
‘I hoped my present would please you,’ the monster said softly, and waved around, an expansive gesture, ‘but I have another gift for you to mark our wedding day.’ He held out his hand once again and the necklace sparkled in the flickering candlelight, the diamonds like pink stars as they dripped blood from his fingers. ‘Turn around, my princess. I will fasten it for you.’
‘ Do as he says,’ said the voice in my mind.
I curtseyed slowly and dipped my head in acquiescence, then I turned as he bade me, my heart thudding shallow in my chest, fear cramping my stomach. I stared at my father’s aristocratic face, the proud lift of his chin not quite disguising his own fear, then at the frightened expression of Matilde, my stepmother. Her fingers fluttered up to touch the black opals that encircled her own neck, her lips parting with a glimpse of fang, as if to speak, as if maybe to stop him ...
Then she pressed her lips together and her sapphire-blue eyes dropped down to the spreading lake of blood on the floor.
It was the last time I would ever see her look at me.
‘ Be ready to run, Genevieve. At my command.’
The diamonds settled around my throat, the stones heavy against my chilled skin. ‘A gift fit for a queen, mysidhe queen,’ said Bastien, the monster, drawing the necklace tight, making it dig into my flesh with a spiteful twist of his fingers. He touched his lips to the curve of my neck; they felt like a brand. His sharp inhalation of my scent sent panicked shivers down my spine.
‘Sidhe blood, as sweet and rich as fear-spiced honey,’ he said, his voice a mixture of anticipation and satisfaction. ‘Sidhe—and virgin too; is that not so, Alexandre? On your honour, none has tasted your daughter’s blood or body? I have your assurance that she is ready and willing to be broken on my sword?’
Terror fractured the last edge of numbness inside me and piss trickled down my leg to mingle with the blood beneath my feet.
‘As you wished, my liege.’ Anguish flickered in my father’s eyes, then was gone.
‘ Run. Now.’
I ran, out through the heavy oak doors and into the night, the ground slippery beneath my feet, the heavy brocade dress tangling my legs, my lungs gasping for air, my belly taut with terror, knowing I had to escape, knowing I couldn’t outrun the shadows ...
He caught me from behind and then there was nothing but pain and terror as he held me down, his hand tight in my hair, my smaller body crushed beneath his, and the sudden sharp sting of his fangs piercing the curve of my neck as I pleaded with him and screamed for him to stop ... ... and his lips touched mine in a kiss as cold as death.
* * *
Red-blackness pressed against me as insistent hands tried to prise and pinch and pull me apart. Rich spice scented the air and copper sweetness filled my mouth, and in the far distance a haze of gold circled me like an aurora. I’d been here once before, tethered by the same black silken cord that wound around and through me and tied me to the red-blackness, keeping the determined hands from scattering me like dancing motes into the golden haze.
‘ Genevieve.’ Malik’s voice came from above and below, confusing and indistinct, and the black cord tugged at me from both directions, as if it wanted to tear me in two.
‘It has been too long, vampire.’ A snort of unease edged the deep, burred tone. ‘Her soul should have returned to her body by now.’
‘My connection with her is still there, kelpie, although there is more resistance to my call now than the first time her soul was severed.’
‘ Genevieve.’ The call came from below me this time, stronger, more urgent. I flowed down towards it.
‘ Genevieve.’ An echo stretched faintly above me, making me hesitate.
‘T’would have been better to let the spell take its natural course and let the bodies reassert themselves at dawn as they were meant to, instead of forcing the magic to revert early.’
‘That would have left Genevieve’s body at the mercy of the sorcerer.’ There was a note of forced calm in his voice. ‘It would have been too much of a risk.’
‘Aye, but what if it has been too long since you bonded with her, what if the bond breaks?’ The words sounded harsh. ‘Her soul could wander, become lost—maybe even fade.’
‘ Genevieve.’ Pain slid like brittle ice along the silken cord, snapping it and flinging me back ...
I came to, naked and alone, lying in the dried-up lake of blood, the scent of sour pears gagging in my throat. Like the first time, the noonday sun streamed through the high mullioned windows, cutting oblongs of light and shade into the stone floor. Ignoring the pain in my body I pushed up onto my hands and knees, then stood, straight and tall. The gold-brocade wedding dress lay torn and crumpled near the heavy oak doors, the plait of blue-white hair abandoned near it, and as I looked at where Sally had been butchered, the sunshine caught and flashed in my eyes. I walked over to where the sword lay discarded from the night before and stared down at it, my hands clenched into fists.
This time I wasn’t a child.
This time I wouldn’t run.
This time I would make him pay.
Then a hand, colder than my own, took hold of mine and slowly I turned to stare into the dark, cautious eyes of Cosette, the child-ghost.
‘This is no longer your time, Genevieve.’ Her voice was soft. ‘You must not stay here any more, it is too perilous.’ She tugged me, anxiety flitting across her face. ‘Come, they are both waiting for you, and there are the others ...’
