“Easy?” She spun on him. “How can I be easy when the last time helicopters flew in, they took Meilin, Jin, and little Luxin and we never saw them again.” Turning back to face us, she flung up her arms, entirely fearless even as Whisper bared his fangs. “Go away.Leave.” She tried to shoo us.
Whisper stepped forward, his hackles bristling.
“Don’t.” Lucien’s voice was faint as if he was running out of strength.
Another blast of his agonising heat fed into me.
The cold inside me thickened, expanding through my marrow like a gathering glacier.
Lucien shuddered as if he felt it—
I bit my bottom lip as pain came on the coattails of cold, lodging itself in my chest until every breath felt like air crystallising in my lungs.
“I apologise for my wife,” the old man said calmly, softly. “But I agree with her that you really ought to go.” He waved his cane at the road. “You’re trespassing and it’s at least a two-hour walk to the village. Best be on your way.”
Lucien didn’t speak, didn’t move, but his silence wasloud.
It pressed against me like a living thing, fury and violence coiled so tightly it made my teeth ache.
I rested my hand on his back.
He shuddered as if my touch snuffed out some of his fire.
His heat faded just enough for him to clear his throat and lock gazes with the woman. “You’re a lot greyer than I remember but you still have a sharp tongue.” His stare slid to the man. “And you...we might be unrelated by blood, but you always treated me like your own.”
“My own?” The old man coughed. “What do you mean?”
Lucien stayed unyielding and hot. “Why are you still here? I expected Ashfall Cliff to be abandoned. Are you that loyal or have you claimed it as your own?”
Everyone froze.
But then the woman stumbled a little closer. “It...can’t be.”
“What can’t be?” The old man squinted and pulled out a pair of glasses from his navy trousers. Putting them on his nose, he stepped closer, scanning Lucien from head to toe. “Do we know him?”
Lucien let the pair study him—his fingers never loosening around my wrist.
Whisper grumbled, not liking the strange tension in the air.
“It’s...just not possible,” the woman whispered, stepping closer, no longer aware of anything but Lucien.
“What’snot possible?” The old man almost stomped his foot with impatience. “Wife, what are you—don’ttouchhim for heaven’s sake.”
Whisper’s tail lashed as the woman stood on her tiptoes and pressed fleeting fingertips to Lucien’s cheek.
Lucien allowed it even though a flash of heat escaped him.
Ripping her hand away as if he’d burned her, she staggered back and shook her head. “But...you’re dead.”
“Who’sdead?”
“Oh good grief, man!” The woman suddenly turned on her husband. “Look, you dumb old goat.Look!” She swatted him with the back of her hand. “Those glasses were a waste of money. He’s the spitting image of Jin Ashfall!”
“What?” The old man jerked. “But Master Jin is dead.”
“Exactly!”
“Then...” He trailed off, his knees wobbling as he clutched his cane. Shaking his head, his face turned white as if he’d seen a ghost. “We’ve finally gone senile after all this time.” He pointed at Whisper who bared his teeth. “Look, wife. We’ve lost the plot. See? Why else is there a jaguar—”
