‘Sorry. I’m already late. Just do as I say and you’ll be fine.’ He raises his hand, gravel shrieking under the wheels as he drives away. I watch him go until I can no longer see him. Then all is silent.
I close my eyes, trying to banish the thought of being here with Kyle, of how safe I’d felt in his arms, the magic and beauty of running with him under the stars. Pain waits, like a raw wound inside me. I push it down once more, though it’s getting harder to hold back. I have no idea what time it is, the sun directly overhead. Ten miles, my rescuer said. I think I can make it. I have to make it.
But I’m so tired. My feet hurt, boots chafing my toes and heels, my neck is aching and I’m starving. It’s all I can do to put one foot in front of the other. But I have to. Ihaveto. If I can get to the gates, I can figure it out from there.
There’s damage to a lot of the buildings in the town centre, shop fronts blown out and blackened, signage torn down. I pass the burned-out ice cream parlour, the North Wind graffiti still visible on the wall. A couple of small black flakes float past me as the wind lifts. To think it was Mistral, all along. I cannotwaitto tell my father.
The thought spurs me on as I wind through the streets leading out of Dark Haven, past shuttered homes with manicured gardens, shining cars in some of the driveways. The comparison to the Safe Zone isn’t lost on me. I realise, again, as I pass the last of the houses, that I need to do something about it. That I’m possibly the only one who can. I can’t believe I considered leaving it all behind. And for what?For who?my mind whispers. I grit my teeth, pushing forward.
I’m back among trees once more, the road a smooth ribbon of asphalt. Of course it’s well maintained. It’s the approach to my house. Things I’ve taken for granted my whole life now appear in a new light, and I wonder at the injustice of it all as I stumble along the verge.
After a while I need to stop. I’m so tired, plus the water has gone through me and I need to pee. I step into the bushes and relieve myself, then sit beneath a large tree. My neck aches, my feet throbbing. I daren’t take my boots off, though – I’ll never get them back on again. I lean my head against the rough bark. My eyes close.
* * *
I wake with a start. Where the hell am I? I’m freezing cold, lying on my side in dead leaves. The shadows are long, and there’s rustling among the trees. I push myself up to sitting, my hand to my head. It all comes back to me. Kyle, and the need to get home. Home. Oh shit. What time is it? It’s dark beneath the trees, though not pitch-black. I get to my feet and push through the bushes to the road. It’s lit by fading sun, tree shadows striping the tarmac, the sky turning to rose gold. Shitshitshit. The sun is starting to set.
I don’t know how far I have to go, but I know I need to move, and quickly. I gather the last of my energy and start to run, tears cold on my cheeks, my muscles protesting as I force myself onwards. The road curves, then curves again. My chest feels banded in iron, but I keep going, fear driving me as the light fades. And there they are. The gates of home. I sob in earnest when I see the raven-topped pillars, the long curving drive. I stagger and stumble the last few yards, reaching for the ornate ironwork.
But the gates are locked. Fuck. Of course they are. I rattle them, but they barely move. Disappointment overwhelms me. I sink down, my legs folding beneath me. Wrapping my arms around the wrought iron, I rest my head, waiting. I only hope the guards realise who I am before they attack. The sky is a flaming bowl above me, the trees shading to purple. It’s completely glorious, yet I feel nothing. It’s as though everything is gone from me, drained by the night’s events and the day’s walk. I stare at the clouds, but see nothing. Gradually, my head droops, and I slip into a doze.
A hand grabs my arm, squeezing tight so I wake up. ‘Ow!’ My squeal becomes a scream as I’m yanked upwards, my shoulder twisting painfully.
‘Human!’ The guard on the other side of the gate snarls, his fingers digging into me.
‘Emelia Raven,’ I shout, my face pressed painfully into the scrolled iron. ‘You have to let me in. Raven claw, blood, and stone.’ The last bit is muffled, but all of a sudden my arm is released. There’s a rattle of keys, then the gate moves and I collapse, sprawling across the gravel. Hands turn me over, and I hear the rapid thuds of vampires running towards me.
‘My lady!’ I recognise that voice. It’s Bertrand. ‘Get her to the house, now!’ The last command is barked out. I’m gathered into strong arms, feel wind rush around me, hear the clank of the gates closing. I’m home.
ChapterThirty-Eight
SANCTUARY
Afew minutes later I’m lying on a sofa, a blanket tucked around me. My mother leans over me, blood tears in her onyx eyes. She strokes my hair, my face, murmuring soft words. It’s tempting to give in to her caresses, to let tiredness take over, but I can’t.
‘Mother! Mistral?—’
‘Hush, lovely girl. You are safe now.’
‘What about Mistral?’
My father. I turn my head to see him standing on the other side of the sofa. His voice is gentle, and I swear I see a tinge of blood in his eyes.
‘Aleks, surely she can tell us later, when she’s rested.’
‘No, I need to tell you now.’ I try to push myself up. My mother helps, sliding a pillow behind me. Her arms come around me and I lean on her smooth shoulder. My father comes closer, his arms folded.
‘He… er…’ My voice falters and I try not to cry. ‘He kidnapped me. Or, rather, he had someone, someone I trusted, someone I thought loved me—’ I sob, unable to finish, ashamed at what I’ve put my parents through. My mother rubs my arm, kissing my brow. I wipe my eyes, taking a breath. ‘Mistral is behind the rebellion. He’s the North Wind.’
‘What?’ Both my parents cry out at the same time.
‘He was going to kill me. He thinks he’s going to be with Mother, make babies with her. He called me an abomination.’
My father turns away then smashes an ornate wooden box, crushing it, growling in fury.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I whisper, tears in my eyes. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘But Aleks—’ my mother is looking at my father ‘—he’s on his way here…’
