But the roads aren’t busy, even when we reach the small airport.They’re eerily quiet, the grey drizzle having kept everyone indoors.
“Go straight back to the house, no stops,” Willa tells me as we unload her bags from the boot.“And be careful on that road back up the mountain.There were some pretty sharp bends.”
“Stop worrying about me.You have enough to worry about, and I know how to drive.I’ll take it steady.I promise.”
She hugs me.Considering the number of times Willa has had to restrain me, I’m no stranger to her physical contact, but this feels oddly intimate.“Look after yourself, and don’t drive Fenrir mad.You know what he’s like when he loses his temper.Be nice to him.”
“I will,” I assure her as she picks up her bags.“Text me when you can, and I hope Marta and the baby are okay.”
“Thank you.”She turns to leave, then swivels, her expression serious.“It’s selfless, what you’re doing.Putting Marta’s and my needs before your own.”
“No, it isn’t,” I tell her.“It’s just being human.”
I watch her until she disappears inside the airport, and then my shoulders drop, and the tendrils of anxiety wrap themselves around my gut.What if my father finds out?What if he punishes her?But I know I’m right.Marta and the baby are more important right now; they’re all that matters.Willa would never forgive herself if she’s not there for them.
I send out a little prayer to whichever god is listening before I get back into the car and drive back to the house.
As I cruise down the deserted roads, I feel a strange sense of wonderment.I’ve never driven a car on my own, never been alone outside my house before.This is all so new, so refreshing that I can’t help but smile.
How easy it’d be to just keep on driving.
The temptation to flee overwhelms me.But then reality sinks the dream.What would happen to Willa and Marta if I ran?Who would my father blame?Who would he punish?
Instead of running, I roll the windows down.Liberated by the fresh air and the drizzle that sneaks into the car, I enjoy that no one is telling me to roll the windows up, or to pull my cap further down over my face, or to do anything.
I’ve spent my whole life feeling trapped and alone, but this is the first time I’ve everbeenalone yet free, and I love it.
Driving up to the house, I see it now in all its splendour.The pitched roof, the arched windows, the pale stone, and the gnarled trees that look like an old person bent over with arthritis.Nothing is welcoming about this house.I could leave this place now, just turn the car around and put my foot on the gas, never to return.
But then I remember him.
After parking the car, I let myself into the house, keeping my steps light, like a teenager having snuck out for some illicit rendezvous—something I’ve never done, and would never have been able to do if not for today.I tick off another first on my bucket list.Today is shaping up to be a day of firsts.
The house is still and quiet, as if it knows what I’ve done and is keeping shtoom.
I figured that if the Beast had risen whilst we’d been out and discovered we weren’t here, I’d know by the fury that would be permeating the walls—the devastation he’d have left in his wake if he’d found out we had gone.Especially after I’d confessed to having thought about running away.
Entering the sitting room, I sit on the window seat and wait for him to wake, for him to discover what I’ve done, and to face the repercussions.
TWENTY
FENRIR
PRESENT
Heat swells in the room.Smoke fills my lungs.She screams.And even though I know it isn’t real—can’t be because I’ve been here before, done this so many times—I can’t wake myself from the dream.I can’t pull myself from this hell that replays every time I close my eyes.
It’s a rookie mistake that happens every now and then: I fall asleep.Proper sleep.Not just the thing I do when I close my eyes and try to rest, but the deep sleep that pulls me under and seems intent on tormenting me with the past, playing it over and over until I beg the flames to devour me.
But then I wake, bolting upright in the chair by the bed, hands gripping the armrests, my breath fast and tight.
Glancing around the room, I try to steady my breathing by focusing on the furniture.The double bed.The large set of oak drawers.My duffel bag I haven’t unpacked.My boots sitting neatly by the door.After convincing myself the room isn’t on fire and I’m not going to burn to death, I head to the en suite to shower.
Five minutes later, I return to the bedroom, changing into a fresh black T-shirt and combats before pulling on my work boots and lacing them tightly.Opening the door, I then step onto the landing and immediately know something isn’t right.
The air is too quiet, too still.The walls are watching me as if they know something I don’t.
Bouncing down the stairs, I flick my damp hair out of my eyes as I reach the foyer.Hayami’s boots sit on the mat, the material dark from where they’ve got wet.She’s been outside.When?Where to?
