I risk a glance down the narrow path that leads into the heart of the forest and shake my head.
‘What’s the point?’
He stares at me for a long moment, then shrugs. ‘Probably nothing, but at least you’d have a chance…’
‘A chance at what?’
He walks towards me, leaning in when he reaches me, stepping up close until his body is pressed tight against mine. He settles his head against my neck and breathes in before his lips trace a path around my ear and he whispers.
‘Please, Niamh. Just… please, don’t make this any more difficult than it needs to be. Take the chance, it’s all I can give you. But if you haven’t reached the sanctuary by dawn… Wait for me.’
‘Why?’
‘Because there are fates worse than death. Now, go.’
Shivers race down my spine at his words. I shake my head, refusing to move my feet, and although Cillian takes my arm and tries to pull me away from the safety of the tree, I let my body become dead weight, and wrap my arms around the tree behind me.
‘Niamh.’
‘No,’ I snap. ‘I’m not going with you willingly. I’m not going to be complicit in my own murder.’
‘If you stay here, I’ll kill you. The hunt is your only chance. Run from me, Niamh.’ His face changes, his stance changes. He straightens, the pleading look gone. I cringe inwardly. What have I done? He killed a man in front of me a few hours ago. I suspect it’s not the first time he’s killed even if he’s never even set foot inside a court of law– and provoking him like this probably isn’t going to help my situation.
Behind Cillian, tendrils of mist are curling around the trees, and even as I watch, the mist thickens, as if someone has pulled a curtain around us. It’s still dark, a breeze picks up, bringing the mist closer. And I think I must be in shock, because although it races across my skin, it’s barely chilled.
‘Niamh. You have to. Before it’s too…’ He trails off, shaking his head, then turns his hand palm up. There’s a tattoo there, one I haven’t seen before and it looks like its pulsing with a fiery light. And underneath it, is my name.
‘What? Why?’
‘You killed Kin, Niamh. The Court has marked you for death and I am the one to carry out that sentence.’
‘But… but I didn’t mean to. And both you and Vittoria?—’
‘We’re both Kin. We were protecting Rose. None of this is fair, but it’s not the same. Now, go. Try to reach St Marnox.’
‘What?’
‘I know you’re angry. I know you don’t believe me, but I never wanted any of this for you. I tried my best to keep you away, to keep you at a distance, but my bloody sister kept you tethered to us. I wish things were different.’
I swallow, unsure where he’s going with this. We’ve only ever had a few stolen moments together, moments he instantly regretted or that I misunderstood. I’ve always thought I just wasn’t right for him, wasn’t enough for a man like him.
‘There’s something about you. Nothing I could do or say would persuade Rose to give you up. Maybe if I’d told her how much I want you, she’d have understood why I couldn’t have you around.’ He shakes his head. ‘But I’m sorry that it’s led you here.’
‘You… you want me?’ I whisper, looking up at him.
‘You know I do. I have done since the moment I met you.’
‘But—’
‘Come here,’ he commands, and my feet have moved before I’ve even thought about it. He caresses my cheek, his eyes never leaving my face as he looks at me as if learning every detail of my features. He threads his fingers though my hair, palming the back of my head and drawing me towards him. His mouth covers mine and his arms come around me, as our tongues tangle. I close my eyes, getting lost in the feel of him, loving his smell, his taste, the way he makes places deep inside of me tingle because of his touch. As we kiss, the world around me slips away, Cillian’s body against mine the only anchor to reality. Slowly, the sounds of the surrounding forest creep into my awareness, leaves whispering and branches creaking gently as they sway in the night breeze, the distant burble of a burn in the distance.
‘You should run,’ a voice whispers directly in my ear and I jump, turning, but there’s no one there; there’s nothing except a tendril of mist. It sounds exactly like the voice I heard in the car. I push Cillian back, looking around and seeing nothing but the approaching mist.
‘What is it?’ Cillian asks. I don’t answer, but I push away from him taking a couple of steps towards the forest path. It’s clearer than anywhere else, and somehow I know that the mist is there to help me, to show me which way to go.
‘He’s going to hunt you down and then…’ Another voice whispers in my other ear. ‘Well, I guess we’ll find out.’ The voices chuckle and I swallow nervously.
I shake my head. Have the drugs mixed with the Stox messed up my brain? Am I hallucinating? Or is it sheer exhaustion? Or is it plain and simple fear making me imagine voices in the mist. In fact, am I imagining the mist? Cillian doesn’t seem to have noticed it. He’s staring at me, watching as I get closer to the path that he wanted me to run down.
