Winter's Shadow (25 page)

It was a city.

A ghost city. An unearthly green light flowed over all surfaces like water or fire or smoke. Winter’s eyes widened as she tried to take in its splendour. The architecture of the buildings and edifices was striking, a seeming confluence of different styles from different time periods, at turns familiar and then utterly alien. There were no plain, flat surfaces, no simple geometric shapes – everything looked intricately wrought and textured. It was the scale of these structures that was the most awe-inspiring. The tallest skyscraper she had ever seen would be dwarfed by the towers and columns she saw now. They reached past her, breaking through the clouds into the heavens beyond. It was a city of Babel.

As she fell closer, drifting between the towers and spires, Winter began to see them. The people of the city. Thousands of them, thronging the streets and squares below.

Exotic robes billowed in the winds, wide crescent hats hung like vertical moons upon pale brows; many of the denizens held gleaming black rods, which threw off sparks as they struck the ground. Some of the women were wrapped from head to toe like desert Bedouins, the material sparkling as though it were made from the night itself. More people travelled between the towers along expansive bridges . . . no, Winter saw she was mistaken. These individuals weren’t using bridges to navigate the space between the towers – they were floating! Gliding soundlessly through the air like ghosts . . . or angels.

And all about them the green witchlight played, leaping from man to woman and building alike. The primary sources of the radiance appeared to be a number of vast, circular wells situated at intersections. Figures gathered around these wells, congregating for some kind of ceremony. It hurt Winter’s eyes to stare down at the emerald light gushing forth, but she couldn’t look away. There were mysteries in the light. If she could only get closer, then she might begin to understand . . .

Suddenly a shape came hurtling out of the darkness above Winter, collecting her in its strong embrace. It was Blake. Holding her tightly in his arms, he carried her upwards, away from the city and back into the clouds to the sky above. Winter struggled against his embrace, wanting to be let go, wanting –
needing
– to see what lay at the bottom of the wells. To find out what secrets lay in the light.

She cried out in frustration, but her voice was lost. There was no sound here, no sound except for the wind rushing by. And the bells chiming in the darkness.

Let me go!
Winter silently pleaded with Blake.
Please let me —

‘— go!’

The world exploded around Winter, overwhelming her senses with its familiar noise and smells. They were tumbling through the air, locked in a tangled embrace, and then —

THUMP!

The air was knocked out of her lungs as they struck the ground and began to roll across the lumpy surface. Blake gallantly tried to absorb most of the impact, until their momentum finally slowed and they came to a rest. Winter was lying flat on her back with Blake sprawled on top of her. She stretched out her hands and could feel cold sand beneath her fingertips. A distant lighthouse’s beam cut a swathe through the night, and she knew at once where they were: Lighthouse Beach near the surf
club, which they’d left not half an hour ago. None of this made any sense.

She’d died. She’d gone over the cliff on the scooter with Blake. The waves and rocks had rushed up to greet her, but before they’d hit, Blake had pulled her off Jessie, pulled her into . . .

The weight of Blake on top of her was making it difficult to breathe. Now, he raised his head off her chest. His face was completely drained of colour, his lips white. Only his eyes sparkled in the night with their fiery green light, so beautiful, so similar to the light of . . .

The city!

The image of that haunted place, alive with spectral fire, came rushing back. It was hard for Winter to hold the memory in her mind, though. Already the miraculous images were becoming intangible and difficult to grasp, like holding onto smoke. Or a dream. Regardless, she held on as tightly as she could, concentrating on the details of the giant structures, the floating streams of people, the wells throwing up that hypnotic green light. The stronger she held onto her memories, the less real the world around her became. Blake, the sand, the ocean; all grew faint as the image of that fantastic city became brighter. Winter could almost see the city behind the night sky, as though its light were being projected through a sheer curtain.

‘Winter?’ Blake’s breath smelled sweet, like the perfume of the ghost wind, the wind above the city.

‘Winter!’ he said, more firmly now, but she didn’t answer him. She
couldn’t
answer him. She was looking beyond the beauty of his face to the dreamlands where they’d made their journey together, to the city alive with green fire and magic.

‘Winter – look at me!’

She felt Blake’s hands go to her face, cradling her cheeks. There was sand on his palms, the granules lightly scratching her skin. They felt real. Blake was real. Winter began to come back to herself. For a moment she’d been connected to that other place by a thin thread of memory that was strong enough to start pulling her back – but back to where?

‘Blake?’

He seemed to relax once Winter spoke his name. Still, he cradled her cheeks tenderly, stroking the place beneath her eyes slowly with his thumbs, as though worried she might slip away again. She wanted him to hold her and look at her like that forever. He’d saved her life again; she didn’t know by what magic, but somehow he had brought her here to this place.

‘Are you all ri—’

Unable to do anything else, Winter leaned upwards and planted her lips on his, stealing his words with a kiss.

It might as well have been her first, so rife with new sensations and feelings it seemed. Their lips pressed together, Winter’s tongue found his, tasting his mouth, his delicious beauty. It was a slow kiss, a true kiss.

Like every girl, Winter knew how she’d always wanted to be kissed, and now she acted out her fantasy with precision and skill. Blake was the perfect partner. His mouth was supple yet strong, gently rocking against hers, responding to her rhythm. Fast then slow. Fast then slow. Deliriously over-stimulated, Winter’s senses reeled.

She became subtly aware of a peculiar yet welcome sensation of being drawn into Blake. Not physically, but in a deeper sense – their essences travelling through the kiss to meet halfway, entwining, joining, becoming a singularity. Winter was beginning to feel light-headed, as though she might faint. But she couldn’t stop kissing him – no, she never wanted this to end. She felt connected to something she never knew existed. An energy that lived behind things. Bright and pure.

And then it was over.

Blake tore himself from her embrace. He scrambled off Winter and stood on the sand a few feet away, regarding her with . . . fear? Why did he look so scared? Surely he must have felt that sublime connection, that closeness. Winter tried to sit up, but found she couldn’t. Her muscles felt too weak for the task. The most she could do was prop herself on her elbows.

‘What’s the matter?’ It was hard to form the words, as she didn’t seem to have any breath left. She felt as if she’d just run a marathon. Unlike her body, her mind crackled with mysterious energy, like she’d drunk a dozen coffees and followed them with a litre of Red Bull. The world seemed brighter and clearer. The waves breaking down
at the shore, the lighthouse and the three-quarter moon that lurked beyond it, all stood out now with a startling clarity.

‘Blake?’

His chest was heaving as though he too was out of breath. The colour had returned to his face and the strange green light in his eyes was brighter – almost like a cat’s eyes shining in the night. Blake looked somehow more beautiful than ever. How could she see him so clearly? The moonlight wasn’t
that
powerful.

That had been some kiss.

Winter watched him swallow and shake his head a few times as if trying to clear it.

‘I’m sorry, I . . .’ Blake began, then, with a panicked look in his eyes, turned and walked quickly up the sand into the dunes. With some effort, Winter turned around and called out to the receding figure, ‘Blake!’ but if he heard her he didn’t stop.

Confused, she forced herself onto her feet, and began to stumble in his direction. Her legs felt leaden, making it almost impossible to chase him at any speed. Desperately, she tracked his footprints as they wound their way around one of the tall white hills and then stopped abruptly, as though he’d taken to the air. But that was impossible. Wasn’t it . . . ?

As Winter stood looking down at the end of the trail, she found that she couldn’t answer that question any more. The word
impossible
had lost its definition for her.

Blake materialised in Velasco’s study. Clutching his chest, he collapsed to the floor in agony. Green sparks of energy skittered across his writhing form for a few more seconds before sputtering out, leaving a faint trace of ozone in the air. It had been a long time since he’d made two trips so closely together. His body was now gripped in the throes of a crippling hunger as it sought to replenish its energy stocks.

Heeding his silent call for help, the door to the study was nudged open and four cats padded into the room. They circled around Blake, lending him some of their life force, until he was sufficiently restored to raise himself off the ground. This was not the first time they’d saved him. Exhausted, the cats slumped to their bellies, watching their master stand on trembling legs.

There had been no other choice. It was either reveal himself or let Winter plunge to her death. Blake didn’t regret his actions, despite the fact that now the danger was more immediate than ever. Tomorrow, after getting his truck’s tyres replaced, he would waste no time in finding her. Winter’s time was growing short. If he had the strength he would go to her now, but he needed to recuperate. It would be foolish to try to protect her in this weakened state.

Blake steadied himself against the desk. It pained him to think of how confused and frightened Winter must have been when he left her on the beach. The kiss had been unexpected; he hadn’t had time to prepare himself for the effects. Thinking of her lips touching his, his body ached with longing. The hunger threatened to overwhelm him again, and it was with considerable effort that Blake regained his control.