ChapterTwenty-Three
HAVEN
Things are a bit blurry after that. I hear Kyle arguing with Declan. And Declan apologising. Someone touches my elbow and the pain lessens, as though it’s healing. Then I hear birds chirping, the rustle of trees, a rush of cold air. I realise Kyle is talking to me. He’s sitting down, cradling me close.
‘I’m so sorry. I thought we’d be okay. Shit.’ He shakes me. My eyelids flutter. I try to talk but only a small moan comes out. I’m freezing. Kyle pulls me closer. ‘Wake up! Emelia, talk to me. Fuck. C’mon, Emelia, wake up.’
He sounds worried, so I make an effort. ‘C-cold,’ I manage to get out through my teeth, which have begun to chatter.
‘God and darkness!’ He almost sobs the words. I feel the satin tickle of his hair against my bare skin, then his hands as he slides my shirt and jacket onto me.
‘I’m so sorry,’ he says again, kissing me, cradling me to him. ‘I’ve arranged with Declan that we get passage straight through when we leave the Safe Zone. And that fucker, James – he’s going on report.’
‘S’okay.’ My lips feel swollen and rubbery, the words mumbled. But I’m not lying. Someone almost drained me dry, I’m cold and weak – none of it matters, as long as I’m with Kyle.
‘Can you stand?’
‘Not sure.’
‘I’ll carry you. It’s nearly dawn, so we need to hurry.’
In one smooth motion he’s on his feet, holding me tight to his chest. We run through the last pale shadows of night, between low brick houses, the windows golden squares against the darkness. After a few minutes Kyle slows, turning up a driveway. The house at the end of it has metal shutters like the ones at home, plants in pots along the front veranda, small flowers and green leaves.
Kyle knocks on the front door. Once, twice, then a third time. A small window opens.
‘Hello, Ruth. It’s Kyle and a friend. Have you room?’
‘Kyle!’ I glimpse a face, pale and wrinkled. It disappears. A moment later the door opens. A woman is there, small and curvy, swathed in layers of knitted fabric. ‘Come in, come in, it’s near dawn,’ she says, ushering us inside. She peers both ways before closing the door; I hear several locks engaging. The hallway is small, paved with tiles. I smell cooked food, vanilla, lemons, a tang of something chemical.
‘Ruth, this is my friend Emily, Emily, this is Ruth. This is her home.’
‘Lovely to meet you,’ I say, though it’s tough to lift my head. I’m so tired.
‘Ruth, have you food for Emily? We ran into some trouble on the way here, one of the guards?—’
‘James?’
‘Yes. Bastard! He had no right!’
‘I’ve heard about him. Oh my dear, I am sorry.’ She touches my arm. ‘You do look unwell. Come on, bring her through.’
Kyle carries me through a doorway into a large room. It’s like something out of a film. There’s a sitting area with a brown padded sofa and chairs on a colourful rug, floral wallpaper on one wall. The other walls are all painted white. Next to the sitting area is a dining table and chairs, and beyond them a kitchen with brown wooden cupboards, separated from the dining area by a long countertop and two stools. Kyle carries me to the sofa and puts me down, wincing at the glow from two nearby lamps. Ruth turns them both down to candle strength, then pushes a button set into the wall. There’s a faint rumble and shutters start to slide down the windows, obscuring the rapidly brightening sky.
Kyle kneels at my feet, easing my boots off, his silver gaze so soft and tender I feel like crying. Meanwhile, Ruth is bustling around in the kitchen – there’s the clatter of a saucepan, the smell of something delicious, a hissing noise, and a crackling plastic sound.
She brings over a tray holding a bowl with steam coming off it, a spoon and a fabric napkin, the edges slightly frayed. There’s also a plastic packet of some dark liquid and a straw. She sets it on a low wooden table, the tiles on top worn smooth.
‘Can you sit up, dear? I have some bone broth for you. It’ll have you feeling better in no time.’
Bone broth? I’ve never tried it, but it smells delicious. ‘Y-yes, I think I can.’ With Kyle’s help I sit up. I’m not so dizzy anymore, which is good. The bowl is filled with beige liquid, green leaves floating in it. I dip the spoon in and bring it to my mouth. Flavours explode on my tongue, garlic and herbs and salt and meat, hot and delicious.
‘How is it, dear?’ Ruth stands nearby, her hands twisting together.
‘Mmm, lovely. Thanks.’
Ruth smiles. It changes her face, the careworn look lifting. She reaches forward to pass my napkin and her sleeve falls back, revealing a round mark cut into the skin on the inside of her elbow, a clear plaster over it.
‘You’re welcome,’ she says. ‘Will you be staying long?’
