I traced the letters with my finger and glanced at him. He looked like he was about to have a stroke.
“Cool,” I said, opening the scrap book, my heart stopping when I saw the first page. “Oh my god.”
It was a drawing of Juliana the Demon Huntress, but not like I’d seen her before. It was stillso herthat I immediately recognised who she was, a sword over her head, mid-swing, drawn with such detail that the image almost looked like it was moving across the page. Her outline was done in delicate black lines, and her colours were bold and smudged out of the lines,giving her movement. Her eyes burned with fury, and strength sung out of every shaded muscle. It seemed such a familiar scene, but I couldn’t place it from the series.
I looked at him again and his eyes quickly moved from my face to the page.
“This issogood. Did youdothis?” I asked. He nodded, squirming next to me. “Oh my god, Charlie.”
I stared at him, stunned by his hidden talent and his adorable embarrassment about it, then looked back down at the page. There was something written on a piece of paper pasted beneath the image, and I frowned as I read it, recognising his writing.
My breath caught in my throat.
“Oh my god, Charlie. I . . .” I tried, shaking my head as I flicked from the words to the detail of the image.
“I got it from Wattpad – it’s from . . .”
“Never Leave,” I said, blinking tears away so I could absorb every detail.
“Is that cool? I mean, when I read it, I saw it in my head, and I just wanted you to see what a good writer you are.” He rubbed the back of his hair, oblivious to how every move he made and every word he said was pulling me further into him. “How talented you are.”
“How talentedIam? You’re insane,” I said, turning the page and gasping at the absolute joy of his next drawing. “Oh my god – Jawfain! Look at him with Viggo!”
“That’s Sadie’s favourite. She helped me with the cutting and sticking,” he said, trying to shrug the attention away from himself.
“Charlie,” I whispered, swallowing a lump as I ran a finger over Viggo’s blue eyes, blown away by how Charlie had captured the exact hue and sparkle.
“You like it?”
I nodded, reading my words under the drawing of Viggo in hisrocking chair with Jawfain perched on his shoulder.
“It’s . . . it’s amazing,” I said, shaking my head.
We’d got closer as I turned each page, our legs and arms touching. For weeks after, I replayed us sitting together, the rain tapping gently, his thigh against mine and the tiny sparks it generated. I remember the sensation of his body next to mine like it’s happening right now.
“All you,” he said. “Your words.”
I looked round at him, not afraid to let him see how emotional his gift had made me.
“This is . . . thank you. It’s you though, not me. You’ve brought it to life.” I stared at him. “Charlie this is the most—”
“Time to go, Eliza!” called Mum, with impeccable timing. We looked up and I don’t think he could have looked as disappointed as I felt, but it was close. “You’re going to miss the bus!”
“Kaaaay!” I called.
The moment I got home that day, I ran upstairs and spent a good hour looking at that scrapbook, gently turning the pages and tracing my finger over the lines and colours he’d drawn for me. It was the most incredible present anyone had ever given me. After that, I’d often find folded bits of paper tucked in my bag or coat pocket. I’d unfold them, my heart racing, as I was presented with the latest of Charlie Chamberlain’s drawings to go along withNever Leave.
Until one day, that day, it just stopped.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
JULIANA THE DEMON HUNTRESS
The urge to throw my favourite knife at you is overwhelming. When I return, I suggest you are gone.
VIGGO RASSMUSSEN
(to Bud Leroy) She desires me still.
