I tuck my legs under me, sliding up the wall to standing. I keep my eyes on them the whole time, no matter how it hurts to see them locked together. I run my hand along the shutters, feeling for the catch. It’s locked.
But the key is in the lock.
I turn it. It clicks.
Kyle snarls. ‘Emelia!’
Fuck him. The catch is stuck, but I work at it. Kyle tries to extricate himself from Jessie, but the blood magic has taken hold and she’s stiffening, her limbs wrapped around him.
‘Emelia, stop!’ His face is distorted, angry, yet he’s still beautiful, his muscles shadowed perfection. I swallow. But I know what I have to do. It’s the only way I’ll get out of here.
His voice changes, to how it used to be when he spoke to me. ‘Please, Emelia – don’t.’ He manages to untangle himself. But it’s too late. For him, for us, for everything. I step aside, and the shutters come open.
Sunrise.
Light, golden and terrible, pours in, catching Kyle in its blaze. And he burns. Oh, it’s horrible. His skin blisters, great red bumps appearing where the light touches him. He screams, writhing in agony on the dusty carpet. Jessie is whimpering, but I can’t take my eyes from Kyle. His black hair crinkles and shrinks, his body curling and cracking as the ligaments catch and burn. The last thing to go are his eyes, silver in his blackened face, staring at me.
Then he’s gone.
ChapterThirty-Six
SOMETIMES, THERE REALLY ARE MONSTERS IN THE WOODS
All that’s left is a pile of black ash.
I hang onto the windowsill, sobbing great gulping sobs. Jessie stares at me, her eyes the only part of her that seem alive. She’s terrified; I can see it, the way her gaze swivels, the whites of her eyes. She’s also frozen, the blood in her, Kyle’s blood, taking over. She can fucking stay that way, as far as I’m concerned.
Screw her.
If the blood magic takes over completely before nightfall, she’ll burn. If it doesn’t, well, she might live, if the Raven guards don’t find her. I imagine they’ve been tracking me all night, anyway. But I need to get out of here.
I push myself away from the window. Kyle’s jacket hangs over a chair and I put it on, rummaging in the pockets. There’s pain, for a second, as I touch the smooth leather, remembering how it felt on him. I pull the keys out, flipping Jessie my middle finger as I unlock the bedroom door.
Downstairs there’s a long hallway, the coloured tiled floor now dull, remnants of stained glass around a wooden front door. The door is locked from the inside. I fumble with the keys until I find one that fits. The door opens with a cracking sound, dust motes dancing in the bright cold air. I step outside onto a small brick porch, pulling the door closed. The street is deserted, but I stay in the shadow of the porch, conscious of being alone, in a strange place, with no idea where home is from here. My legs shake, my breath uneven, but I have to keep moving. I force myself to take a step. Then another, until I reach the small front gate.
The house I’m in is part of a terrace stretching in an unbroken line down the hill towards a distant smudge of blue. I realise it’s the sea. The houses look bright, their faded colours lit by the rising sun, like a piece of the past come to life.
Rust flakes under my hand as I push the gate open, the hinges protesting. I start down the hill, my eyes creased against the light, wishing I had the dark glasses Ruth lent me. It’s cold, frost silvering the low garden walls. I zip my jacket and pick up the pace, wanting distance between me and the house where I left Jessie. And Kyle.
When I close my eyes I see him, his silver eyes staring at me as he burned.
Perhaps, if I head towards the water, I’ll be able to orient myself. If this is the Safe Zone, I can work my way back to Ruth’s house, maybe ask her for help. It’s not much of a plan, but it’s something. I try not to consider the possibility that I’m somewhere else, much further from home.
As I near the water the houses become larger, some with ornate carved wooden porches. On the corner of a side street are several shops, most of them still closed. One, however, has the shutter raised, the scent of fresh bread floating on the air. I realise I’m ravenous. I check my pockets, and Kyle’s jacket, but I have nothing. I unzip the jacket, feeling in the neck of my shirt. My Raven necklace is gone, and there’s a moment of sorrow for its loss. But I’m still wearing a silver chain. I pull it over my head, untangling it from my hair.
The glass door to the bakery is locked. There’s someone inside, moving around in golden light, wiping their hands on their apron. They look up when I knock, coming out from behind the counter to the door. It’s a woman, her hair tucked under a white cap, her brown apron sprinkled with flour and tied tight around her ample waist. Her mouth is pursed tight, a line between her eyebrows. She twists the lock and the door comes ajar.
‘Yes?’
‘Please.’ I hold out the silver chain. ‘I’m so hungry. This is all I have?—’
‘I can’t let you in.’
‘I don’t want to come in. I just need food. Some bread, anything. Please, take this. It’s silver.’
‘How do I know that?’
‘Er, I don’t know.’
