Shine Light (12 page)

Without warning, she upended onto a hard rock floor.

Groaning, she rubbed her forearm, wondering if a bone had cracked. It took a few moments for the pain to recede before she realised two sets of leather-clad feet stood before her.

Looking straight up, she encountered Lenoir’s quizzical expression and Test’s disapproval.

‘You’re awake, little bat,’ said Lenoir.

Naif got up. Glancing around, she took in the fleshy globules hanging from the cave roof, all exactly the same as the one that had held her. ‘What are they?’

‘Our sacs,’ he replied. ‘Our metabolisms require us to take food through a form of osmosis.’

Naif couldn’t stop a shudder. ‘So in Danskoi . . . you’re eating us.’

Lenoir’s mild expression faded. ‘Your understanding is simplistic, Naif. We are a complex species. You cannot reduce our processes to your own terms.’

Naif balled her fists and tried to keep her voice steady. ‘Then what do you call it? How do explain taking our lives to feed yours?’

‘Lenoir, she’s insolent,’ said Test, baring her teeth.

In the glow of the torches that lit the cave, the Ripers looked gaunt and their cloaks bore old stains. Beneath, Naif glimpsed the torn edges of their shirts. She’d felt the roughness of the material as she’d gone to sleep in Lenoir’s arms. Before, his clothes had been silky and clean. It could only mean that the uthers no longer served him.

‘Where is the uther queen?’ Naif asked.

Test lunged to slap her but Lenoir moved quicker, seizing his lieutenant by the throat with one hand and flinging her across the cave. She landed on her feet, crouching beneath a sac for protection.

‘How dare you!’ thundered Lenoir.

His voice held so much authority, so much power, so much anger that Naif’s legs collapsed. The effect on Test was worse. The Riper fell to the ground, writhing as though being stung all over. Urgent, helpless growls wrenched from her chest.

The power in the chamber increased. Test fell still and Naif’s head thumped with pain, as if being compressed.

‘Lenoir! Stop!’ Naif gasped. ‘You’ll kill us!’

As suddenly as it came, the intense pressure stopped, leaving her panting. Slowly, she worked her jaw to ease the ringing in her ears.

Test got to her knees and crawled from the cave, leaving them alone.

Naif took a step towards her and then stopped. ‘Is she . . .’

Lenoir looked at Naif. All colour had bled from his eyes and his body trembled weakly with the aftermath of his fury.

‘Why do you continue to ask about the uther queen?’ he demanded.

‘She can help you stop Brand.’

She had his attention with that comment. The colour seeped back into his eyes and he became still. ‘Speak.’

‘The uthers no longer serve you. Brand won’t let them. Your clothes are filthy and you are surviving by staying on the move. You need the uthers to attend you, keep you strong, and turn their backs on Brand. They will only do that if
you
hold their queen.’

For a moment, she thought he almost laughed. ‘Clever, Naif,’ he said. ‘To have worked out so much.’

She persisted. ‘Tell me where the queen is.’

‘We kept her in the Dominion but Brand took her the day you fled with Ruzalia. As you say, the uthers will only serve her and Varonessa now.’

‘You counted on Varonessa?’

‘She knows I am the rightful leader but she cannot exist without the uthers. They keep our sleep sacs healthy and nourished. Without them, as you have seen, we devolve. Her hands are tied.’

‘Unless you take the queen back and hold the balance of power.’

‘It is a notion I have been pursuing since you left, little bat. But I have not been able to discover where Brand has taken her.’

‘If you don’t know, then I will help you find the queen,’ said Naif. ‘But only if you set the Leaguers free.’

‘You think you can do that, Naif ? You bargain with me?’

‘The Grave Elders have turned on you; Varonessa is being blackmailed against you. You only have me.’

‘I only have you.’ Lenoir echoed her words with such a sense of deep melancholy and longing that she began to tremble.

Suddenly, he was next to her, his arms around her, hands slipping under her shirt, thumbs stroking the tender skin at the edge of her breasts. His face bent to hers, lit by a torch on the wall next to them.

For the first time since returning to Ixion, she saw him properly. His once flawless skin had become translucent. Underneath it, purple-black striations left spidery tracks as though his body flowed with little tributaries of darkness. She saw beauty and disease and was moved by both.

‘You’re sick,’ said Naif softly.

‘Without the uthers, I can no longer regulate my nutrient intake.’

‘Then let me help you,’ she pleaded.

‘Do not mistake me for feeble, Naif.’ He tilted his head further and kissed her.

She might have tried to resist, she wasn’t sure. Too many emotions conflicted for her to be aware of her actions. Her senses overloaded with pleasure and fear. Part of her had been waiting for this, longing for it to happen. And yet another part rejected Lenoir fully.

He seemed to mistake her confusion for compliance and slid his hands over her. He shifted her to the wall of the lair, lifting her onto his hips, pressing her back against the sharp rocks. His body folded into hers as though they had been born together and separated by chance.

‘Naif,’ he groaned into her hair.

‘Will you let me help you, Lenoir?’

‘If you feed me.’

‘How?’ she said softly.

‘Like this,’ he murmured. His lips closed firmly on her mouth and he began to kiss her.

The sensations that shot through her were heady – irresistible – and she pressed against him.

He moaned repeatedly with the pleasure of tasting her, as though he somehow gained sustenance from it. His hands at her back became rougher, his teeth sharp and raking her tongue until she could taste her own blood.

‘Naif,’ he whispered when she pulled back.

He picked her up and placed her urgently on the cave floor, lying across her so that their lips were level. The pressure of his body sent a searing wave of need through her. To be so close to him was like bathing in hot coals. Her mind flamed and her skin burned. She wanted nothing more than to let the sensations devour her.

‘More,’ he demanded roughly.

Her eyes flew open. She saw flecks of red in the dark depths of his stare and a hungry, wild expression that sent fear shooting through her.

He’s so desperate, he might kill me to feed, she thought. And then all the young ones will perish.

‘No more!’ she said.

His hands slipped to her neck. Strong fingers began to press.

She kept meeting his stare, refusing to panic and plead. She called on all her courage. This time she would not let him compel her to do anything.

‘Let me up,’ she commanded him. ‘No one touches me without my permission. No one dictates how I should think. Even someone as powerful as you, Lenoir. Even someone as seductive.’

His fingers tightened momentarily and then relaxed. Some of the wildness left his eyes. He rolled away from her onto his knees in one motion. ‘You defy me despite our bond, little bat. How entrancing.’

‘Do we help each other? Or do you kill me for food?’ she asked.

He didn’t answer, choosing instead to rearrange her clothes with meticulous care. She stayed still while he did it, afraid any movement might trigger the beast in him.

When he had finished, he lifted her up and set her down gently on her feet, as though she was the most precious, fragile thing he’d ever touched.

‘Together,’ he said solemnly. ‘As it was meant to be.’

Lenoir’s faithful crowded close to where Naif sat. The cave that adjoined their current sleeping lair was narrow; the walls impregnated with tree roots from which they’d hung several lanterns.

Naif suspected that the lanterns were for her benefit. Ripers, she knew, could see well in the dark.

Lenoir had called them together so he could speak. He did not want their approval; simply that they should understand why he’d be absent.

‘But how can we be safe without you?’ asked one when he had told them.

Like Lenoir and Test, their clothes were ragged, their faces lean with starvation. Scant trust or belief was left in their expressions.

‘Test knows the pattern you must keep until I return,’ said Lenoir.

His second-in-command crouched furthest from Naif, her lip curled in a sneer. ‘Do not leave us for too long, Lenoir. We may forget you,’ said the Riper.

‘Forget me at your peril, Test. Brand will not have you, and Varonessa will not recognise you as leader. You will be forced to turn rogue.’

Unhappy sounds emanated from those in the circle.

Lenoir used his most commanding voice. ‘I will return to you with the uther queen. Then Brand will have to bow to us.’

The Ripers looked more approving. Even Test’s demeanour lifted. ‘With the uthers on our side we will be able to feed properly. But how long will you be gone?’

‘If we have not returned with the queen within two Early-Eves, go to Danskoi. Brand has captured the Cursed League and taken them there. Enter and take the place as we planned. There will be enough food to sustain you until Brand has starved.’

Enough food.
Naif’s heart almost stopped. She would have cried out had Lenoir’s hand not descended on hers, crushing it so tightly she thought her bones would break.

The mood in the cavern changed and energy flickered between the Ripers. One way or the other, Lenoir
would
save them. She saw their belief in him return. They began to talk among themselves in a rasping language Naif had never heard.

Lenoir’s expression remained serene but Naif felt his satisfaction.

‘Come quietly,’ he said. ‘Now.’

Leaving the caves was a journey of twists and turns and climbs that taxed her muscles and her endurance. Without the replenishment she’d received in his sleeping sac she would never have lasted. After a while, Naif gave up hope of remembering their path and concentrated on not losing sight of Lenoir, or the sound of his footfall.

When they finally emerged, she was surprised to see the outline of a familiar church. They were at the back of Illi, the place in which Lenoir had held a party for her.

Just as before, his carriage lay crouched on the ground in deep shadow, easily mistaken for a large rock or pile of rotted bush in the darkness.

She turned to Lenoir. ‘Brand doesn’t know you keep it here?’

‘Brand has only contempt for Illi. It’s the place she acquired her scars. She never comes here.’ While he spoke, he activated the mechanism that freed the carriage from its inert, sleeping position. He opened the door and offered her his hand.

She ignored the gesture and climbed in unassisted. Immediately the leather scents sparked more memories. In here, when they’d kissed, she’d glimpsed his beastly form. Still she did not know if that was truly him.

Naif settled on the well-sprung seat and ran her hands along the upholstery. The feel of it soothed her. Lenoir vaulted in with unnatural grace and sat opposite. Once the door closed he asked her the question she’d been dreading.