Black Feathers (25 page)

But this time it wasn’t her name she was waiting to hear.

She lay in the dark, eyes wide, listening.

The Darkness waited inside him as the police officers stepped toward the van, the headlights casting long shadows against the garage wall behind them.

He breathed heavily, almost panting, each breath frail and shaky. The red and blue lights behind the minivan arced and sprayed across the dashboard, swirling and dancing almost hypnotically, almost nauseatingly.

But he didn’t break.

Not even when the cop stood outside the driver’s-side door,
his feet wide apart, both hands on the pistol that was pointed directly at his head.

Not even when a second cop yelled at him to put his hands on the dashboard, not to move, just put his hands in front of him in plain sight.

His breath even slowed when the cop used his name.

He almost smiled. They knew his name. They knew everything.

Of course they did.

Inside, the Darkness smiled. The Darkness fed.

When the floorboard creaked, it wasn’t outside of Heather’s room.

Cassie’s eyes snapped open. She hadn’t heard the sound in years, but it all came flooding back to her in a merciless rush.

“No,” she sobbed silently.

She couldn’t move her mouth to cry out. She couldn’t move at all. Hot tears spilled down her cheeks, and her chest shuddered. A pool of warmth formed under her hips, between her legs.

“No.”

She couldn’t breathe through the terror, her throat closed up in fear.

Not again.

Please, God, not again.

“No.”

But yes, it was happening again. And she lay there listening, waiting, the silence like a rope around her throat, pulling tighter, tighter.

“Please.”

Waiting.

Waiting until it felt like her heart might shred.

And then—

“Cassandra …”

The singsong voice was almost a relief.

Her doorknob rattled.

The door swung slowly, silently open.

“Cassandra.”

Cassie’s eyes flashed open, her mouth opening in a scream as she glanced sharply around—too bright, too cold.

Cold.

The ground hard, unforgiving, the light high above her almost blinding.

“Are you—”

That voice.

She pulled herself back. She could move!

She pushed herself deeper into a corner.

“It’s okay.”

She choked back a sob, glanced around again. Metal. Brass. Almost above her head. Cold ground. Bright light. A face—

“Cassie, it’s me.”

—creased in concern.

She should know. The dislocation, the confusion. She should know.

Where was she? What—

“Cassie, it’s okay.”

It all came back to her in a rush. Concrete steps, bright light, handrail.

Doorway.

Victoria.

That face …

She dragged herself out of sleep like a swimmer too far from shore, her brain leaden, starved for air.

Victoria. Doorway. Face.

“Ali?”

“It’s me, Cassie. It’s me.”

Every moment of wakefulness brought more pain. Her back was tied into a tight throbbing knot by the cold concrete and all of her muscles ached. Her hands—

She looked down.

Her hands were mottled pink and white. When she flexed her fingers, they roared in pain, waves of burning travelling up her arms.

Ali’s eyes followed her gaze down to her hands, and when Cassie gasped, Ali’s eyes widened.

“Come on,” she said, leaning in clumsily and wrapping an arm around Cassie’s back. “We have to get you warm.”

Her touch inflamed a new burst of pain and Cassie pulled away, scrambling backward into the corner again, bracing herself against the wall next to the door, hands pulled tight to her body.

Ali jumped back. “I’m sorry. I’m—”

Cassie shook her head; she didn’t stop. “It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not real,” she whispered, over and over again. “It’s not real.”

“Cassie, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“It’s not real. It’s not real.”

“Cassie, we need to get you warmed up. You’ve got frostbite on your hands, and I’m worried about hypo—”

“It’s not real. It’s not real.”

“Cassie.” A thin, high sound of desperation threaded into Ali’s voice. “Cassie, please.”

She leaned forward again, slowly this time, with the careful caution one might use in trying to reach a scared kitten. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Cassie watched the shadow looming over her, coming closer, closer. “It’s not real,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “It’s not real.”

“Let me help you.”

She flinched at Ali’s first touch, but she didn’t pull away. There was no place left for her to go.

“It’s okay,” Ali whispered. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

She wrapped her arm over Cassie’s shoulders and helped her slowly to her feet. Cassie’s body screamed with pain, every muscle, every joint aching and burning. When her hand brushed the cold brass handrail, she gasped sharply.

“Here,” Ali said, gently taking Cassie’s forearm and raising it across Cassie’s body. “Tuck your hands under your arms. Try to warm them up a little.”

Cassie let Ali move her, manipulate her body. She felt like a doll being posed. She could move herself now, not like before, but she didn’t have the strength to do more than breathe.

“Can you walk?” Ali asked, stepping down to the lower step. “Cassie?”

She didn’t answer.

“Okay,” Ali said. “You can lean on me.” She guided Cassie toward her, pulling her close along her side, her arm, her shoulder. “Is that okay?”

Cassie lowered her head to rest it against Ali’s shoulder. “Are you real?” she whispered.

But Ali didn’t hear. “Okay,” Ali said. “Let’s get you warmed up.”

They staggered together through the downtown core. The streets were silent, the only people faint shadows picking at garbage cans or wheeling overloaded shopping carts or slumped in doorways. When a car passed, Cassie would flinch at the sudden roar, the blinding flash of lights, and Ali would pull her closer, whisper encouragement.

“What time is it?” she asked finally, her first words since leaving the doorway of the bookstore. The lights on the Legislature building were reflected in the surface of the Inner Harbour.

“Around seven, I think,” Ali said, not sounding at all certain.

“In the morning?”

Ali smiled. “Yes, in the morning.” Her voice was soft and kind.

Cassie looked at her. “Why … why are you out so early?”

Ali looked at her as if the question made no sense.

“I was looking for you.”

About fifteen minutes later, past the white-light outline of the Legislature and through the narrow streets on the other side of the Inner Harbour, Ali guided Cassie down the driveway of a three-storey house.

Rather than going up the front steps, Ali led Cassie to a door around the side, down two steps and flanked with two narrow windows, overhung with a small awning.

The lock popped open and Ali switched on the light.

Cassie’s first impression was of warmth, not just the heat that enveloped her as Ali closed the door, but of the apartment itself.

“This is your place?”

“Home sweet home,” she said, leading Cassie to a chair at the table, setting her down before pulling off her own coat and draping it over the chair next to her. Ali tugged off her boots and left them crumpled beside the table.

“Let’s get you warmed up.”

Stepping into the kitchen area, Ali took a clean towel out of a lower drawer and soaked it under the faucet. After wringing it dry, she refolded it and placed it in the microwave, which she set for one minute.

As the microwave roared, she stepped back to Cassie. “How are your hands feeling?”

“They hurt.”

“They’re probably going to hurt a lot more,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “Here—” Taking Cassie’s sleeves, she gently unfolded the girl’s arms. “Try not to move your hands.” With the gentlest of touches, she helped Cassie back to her feet.

She reached for the top of the zipper of Cassie’s coat, but stopped. “Can I?”

Cassie hesitated, nodded.

Ali unzipped the coat and gently guided it off Cassie’s shoulders, coaxing each arm out of its sleeve, careful to slip the cuffs wide around Cassie’s hands, trying to avoid touching them as much as possible.

As Ali draped the coat over her own, Cassie shivered and reflexively folded her arms again, tucking her hands back into her armpits.

She couldn’t stop shivering.

“Oh God,” Ali said, turning in place to look at the timer on the microwave. “Let me get you a blanket. Here.” And she guided Cassie back down into the chair. “I’ll be right back,” she said, touching Cassie gently on the shoulder before she raced away.

Cassie closed her eyes, tried to breathe through the waves of pain, but even her lungs were shivering, and her breath came in harsh, brittle jolts. She had thought that teeth chattering was just something you saw in movies or read about in books—the reality was far worse than she had imagined.

The darkness inside her eyelids burst with red and white spirals, orbs and shadows of colour and light that spun and twisted around one another. It was almost hypnotic, and Cassie felt herself starting to spin and turn. She had to open her eyes to keep from throwing up.