Icefall (11 page)

She let go abruptly of Marty's head. It snapped against Lauren's with a hideous crack. Lights exploded behind her eyelids once more, and the last sensation she felt was sheer relief that the dog next door had finally shut up.

 

Finn

He whimpered, and I was awake. For seconds I lay in the darkness, letting my eyes adjust. An owl cried, somewhere out towards the line of pines between the house and the road. As my dream faded I could hear the sea again, a languid rhythmic thump at the foot of the cliffs, muffled by distance and the dense green laurels.

Seth made that sound again, a strangled sound of fear mixed with something I couldn't identify. His fist on top of the covers was tightly clenched, the sinews of his arms and shoulders taut and prominent. I reached out a hand to cover his, but at the last moment I drew it back.

His sleep was very deep. I frowned. I wished his dreams would wake him faster.

Hesitantly I slid my fingers to his temple, then down to the sensitive skin in front of his ear. I stroked it there, lightly. If anything he coiled even tighter.

~
Well,
I thought
. ~ If you won't come to me …

No response; I hadn't expected one. I put my forehead gently to the back of his head, inhaling the scent of his hair, then slipped inside his mind.

It was dark there. It took me long moments to find the dream, and when I did I couldn't tell much more, not for a while. It was still dark, but I couldn't smell the distant sea any more, only damp earth, bitter grass, night air, the blood of an animal. A crossbow lay beside my hand but it didn't belong to me, it was Sionnach's. The blue roan moved in the foliage. I could hear its teeth ripping first at grass, then at a small corpse, but it had eaten and the movements were languid now. A black wolf lay still, head on his paws, watching.

The scents were familiar: I'd been here before, or somewhere like it. I lay motionless, slowly registering my surroundings. Beneath me was cool ground, cropped turf. A leaf drifted unseen to tickle my face, and I raised a hand to brush it away. That gave me away.

Gave me away? Oh, yes, I was being watched. I'd lain here waiting and I'd drifted into sleep and now I was watched, and my guard was down. I swore obscenely to myself, even as lust warmed and stirred my body.

I thought: No no no. I thought: Not this time. I thought: This time I'll tell her to go.

This time I'll kill her.

Yes.

Except that I can't.

Blood thudded in my pelvis, and I was hardening, and—oh. Right.

The Finn in me grinned. At least it was familiar, if not from this angle.

Outwardly I wasn't grinning. My teeth were gritted.
Not this time no.

‘As if you can tell me no.' Long light fingers stroked my hip, and I twisted swiftly to face her. Her amber gaze followed my hand, and only then did I become aware of the hunting knife in my grip.

Kate smiled. Her hand left my hip, stroked up my arm and my wrist, curled round my fingers and eased the knife's hilt from them.

‘Don't tell me no,' she said. ‘I won't have it.'

Gently she laid the knife on the ground between us, and kissed me.

Gods,
the desire that surged through my body. Her hands were busy, unfastening my belt, tugging my clothes from me. Under her short dress she was naked, the wanton bitch; I had far less trouble getting access. And she sure as hell wanted me. Sure as hell.

Hell. Sure as that.

‘No,' I tried again, but I could hardly get the word out. All I could utter was a pitiful whimper. It was lust, and fear, and pain, and most of all hate.

‘Conal,' I choked, with the last of my self-control.

‘He's safe from me.' Her breath caught in her throat. ‘I won't harm him. I can't harm him. For your sake, Murlainn. Why would I? How could I?'

‘I don't know,' I said, but then I was lost. She howled with delight, and I gave a scream of ecstasy and despair, and then she began to laugh.

The laugh didn't come from this Kate, the one beneath me. It came from somewhere beyond. It came from another place and another time.

I won't HURT him! I won't hurt HIM!

‘No,' I said.

Not me, no.
I
won't hurt him.
I
won't hurt you.

‘No,' I moaned. ‘The gods damn you. No.'

That was different.

That was not Seth's voice any more. In the sudden confusion I felt our minds wobble apart and I was slammed back by a terrific force.

When I skidded into reality, I was back in my own head, dizzy, clutching the linen sheets for dear life. Seth had rolled over to face me and he caught my head in both his hands, his eyes dazed and afraid. I closed my fingers over his, holding them against my head.

‘Finn,' he said. ‘Finn.'

‘Sh,' I told him shakily. ‘Sh. What was that?'

‘Finn.' He kissed me on the lips, with a desperation that was close to violence. ‘I'm sorry, Finn.'

My heart was racing out of control in my chest. Gently I nipped his lower lip. ‘It was a long time ago. A long time ago.
A long time ago.'

‘Yes,' he said. ‘Yes.'

‘She's gone.'

‘Yes.'

‘She can't touch you.'

‘No.' His fingers twined in my hair, and he raised himself over me, staring down. His eyes were startlingly brilliant. It was almost frightening.

‘Mine,' I said.

‘Yours.'

I ran my hands down his scarred back, pulled him against me. He still had his dream hard-on.

Hearing me think that, he grinned.

I grinned back. ‘Mine,' I said again.

He laughed. ‘I love you.'

‘Prove it.'

He did.

 

Hannah

Twelve Dunnockvale was not much of an improvement on The Paddocks, decor- or atmosphere-wise, but at least it had a better name. Nobody could ever have mistaken The Paddocks for actual fields full of horses. AFS Properties had added the fancy suffix to their development in the plain little suburb of Dunnock, but at least the place looked something like a vale, a little cluster of executive homes snuggled among mature trees in a dip of south-facing land. And since AFS Properties offered very advantageous mortgages, Sheena and Marty had decided to take a step up in the world.

I was glad. I'd hated The Paddocks, for many reasons, and though the worst of them had accompanied his wife in the house move, at least 12 Dunnockvale didn't hold any of my memories. Sheena was cordial enough nowadays—moving out from under her roof had taken the sting right out of our mutual loathing—and I kind of felt sorry for her anyway, being married to Groper Marty. She knew where my mother lived and she was always offering to put me in touch with her. Of course I always refused; if the woman wanted to contact me, she could do it herself. But I thought it was sweet of Sheena to suggest it.

That wasn't why I went round, though. Lauren was never going to be my favourite person, but I knew fine she needed someone dropping in on the family, unexpectedly and frequently. She'd never said so. But I knew. Boy, did I know.

‘Try to act normal,' I told Sionnach, who was mistrustfully eyeing a garden full of gnomes in dinky business suits. ‘Sheena was absolutely mortified last time, when you scared away the neighbours.'

~
Anybody would have decked that Doberman. It had no manners.

‘Sionnach, not many people would punch a Doberman on the nose, and very few of them could knock it out. Just smile and look, uh…'

~
Normal, yeah,
he said pleasantly. ~
Would you like me to wear a hockey mask?

‘Oh, shut up. Sorry. Just don't scare anybody.' I swung open the gate and walked up the path, between azaleas popping into spring flower. The Rooney garden was all easycare shrubs and paving slabs, but at least Sheena didn't do gnomes.

How did they ever expect to hear the doorbell? Sheena and Marty must be half-deaf. The television echoed through the house, but then it always did, so I wasn't surprised when I had to walk in uninvited. From the lounge I could hear tinny voices and a burst of studio-audience laughter. Groper Marty would be snoring in his armchair as usual, an empty can of Miller Lite beside him. Or with any luck he'd be out. Sheena was nicer when he wasn't around.

‘DEBBIE SAYS “UKRAINE.” UKRAINE! LET'S SEE IF THAT'S CORRECT, AND IF SO, HOW MANY OF OUR HUNDRED PEOPLE SAID IT!'

~
Too quiet in here,
said Sionnach behind me.

~
Ha, ha.
I rolled my eyes.

Then I realised he wasn't joking. He had unfastened his jacket and loosened that compact sword in its sheath.

I frowned. The TV was blaring, but I trusted Sionnach absolutely, so I didn't say anything out loud. ~
Probably asleep.

He didn't answer that, but pushed in front of me and laid his fingers lightly on the handle of the sitting room door. His brow furrowed slightly.

~
Wait here a minute.

Right. As if. I followed him into the room.

The door didn't creak at all; it was polished and oiled like everything else in the house, including Sheena.

‘See?' I whispered.

Sionnach scowled, annoyed with me for disobeying him, but then he shouldn't be so bossy and he shouldn't be so paranoid. Sheena was out of it, her head slumped forward on her chest. She was wearing a red t-shirt that clashed with her chestnut hair, but Sheena would not appreciate me telling her so. I'd opened my mind to share the joke with Sionnach when he turned on me.

‘Get out,' he barked. ‘Out of here.'

I took a sharp step back, confused and shocked. My first coherent thought was that he was going to wake her up, and she'd get the fright of her life.

The notion barely had time to form, because it registered straight away that she wouldn't be waking up. Ever. As for the fright of her life, she looked like she'd already had it.

And then it finally registered that Sheena's t-shirt wasn't red at all. Not when she put it on this morning.

I clapped my hand over my mouth to stop myself screaming, but I couldn't shut my eyes. Sionnach, giving up on ever making me move, was stooped over Sheena's body, gripping a handful of hair to raise her head very slightly. The gaping wound in her throat yawned wide, and I finally shut my eyes, but no blood spurted out. It was all congealed in the cut, what hadn't spilt on her t-shirt and her sequinned jeans. Very delicately, Sionnach let her head sag forward again.

‘We need to get out of here,' I told him, my voice cracking. ‘You shouldn't have touched her!'

He nodded. Then he hesitated, and glanced at the ceiling. It was darkening with a spreading stain. Perhaps I only imagined its pinkish tinge.

‘No,' I said
. ‘No.'

‘Hannah!' barked Sionnach, but I was already taking the beige-carpeted stairs two at a time. The bathroom door wasn't locked. Sionnach was at my back as I staggered into the room, slipping and slithering on the wet tiles, and he grabbed my arm to stop me falling.

A woman's hand drifted at the edge of the brimming bath. Her hair had caught in the overflow, blocking it, but her hard pretty face was under the water, which wasn't as red as it might have been.

The taps were still running. As I moved to turn them off, Sionnach grabbed my wrist to stop me. He pulled me out of the bathroom, then stuck his head round the door of the bedroom.

~
Another one. Youngish man.

I swallowed, but couldn't make myself speak. ~
Darryl,
I guessed. ~
Shania's husband.

He had to physically take hold of my arms and move me out of the way before he strode towards the master bedroom. This time he wasn't so quick. He seemed to stare into it for a terribly long time, and there was pity on his face.

~
It's your uncle.

I moved sharply towards the room, but Sionnach only shook his head. That stopped me where all his rough warnings hadn't. I swallowed hard and began to back away.

~
Sionnach. Sionnach, what about—

Sionnach lifted a finger to silence me. He tilted his head, frowning, and slid his sword from its scabbard. Shaking my head, I backed towards the last bedroom. The carpet was dense, and it silenced any sound we made.

We hadn't imagined the sound we weren't making. A high muffled whimpering, as if a hand was clasped tightly over a mouth but couldn't stop the sobs. I stared at the cream door of the fitted wardrobe.

~
Put that thing away,
I told Sionnach.

He sheathed the sword, but left it loose in the scabbard, and his jacket unfastened.

I tried to reach out with my mind, tentatively, but that was silly and pointless. She wouldn't know what was going on, and I'd only frighten her more, and there was something in the way anyway: static or interference. It felt a bit like a crude block, but of course it couldn't be.

I closed my fingers round the gilt handle of the wardrobe and eased it open.

A strangled shriek, and the door banged into my face as a figure exploded from behind it and flung me to the ground. I was too shocked to fight it off, but the creature was yanked away before it could hurt me. I scrambled to a crouch, only to see a struggling demented demon locked in Sionnach's grip, streaky caramel hair flailing across a ravaged face. Tears had made streaky blotches in the endless blood.

‘Lauren,' I panted. ‘Lauren, it's okay. It's me. Hannah. It's okay.'

It didn't have much effect; it was just that the fight suddenly went out of her and she hung limply in Sionnach's arms, staring at me wild-eyed. I grabbed her hands, and at last her eyes focused and recognition sparked.

‘Hannah?' Her voice hardly made a sound. ‘It's you. It's you.'