Winter's Shadow (30 page)

‘Why are they chasing us, Blake?’ she asked, resisting the urge to look behind her. ‘You said those things – the Skivers – are drawn by the red Occuluma. That they can’t just cut the souls out of anyone they want. Why would they . . .’

Winter trailed off, her mouth suddenly dry.
No, it couldn’t be!

‘I’ll explain later,’ Blake responded, hastily filling her silence in as though hoping to stop her thoughts from heading further down the dangerous course she’d started. ‘When we’re safe.’

Winter hardly heard him. She was barely aware of anything any more except the cold, dread certainty that was forming. The rumble of the truck, the rain spattering against the windows, her wet clothes – anything tethering her to the here and now lost its consistency as she withdrew into herself. It felt as though she was back on Jessie, hurtling towards the edge of the cliff, rushing into a dark fate impossible to avoid.

‘Winter?’ Again, she heard Blake’s voice, more insistent this time. Her hands trembling, Winter reached up and grasped the rear-view mirror, angling it towards her. In a second, she saw her fears realised in the glass.

Blake flicked the mirror away from her in a futile attempt to hide the reflection from her.

‘I wish you hadn’t seen that,’ he said sadly.

Winter squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the image. It was no use. Even with her eyes closed she could still vividly see her frightened, pale reflection. And her eyes . . . the crimson tongues of fire burning in the depths of her eyes. The red Occuluma. Now she understood why the Skivers were chasing them. Her soul was marked for harvesting. She was supposed to be dead.

Through the darkness she heard Blake say, ‘I’m going to get you through this, Winter,’ and she hoped the lack of conviction in his voice was just her imagination. It sounded as though he was trying to convince himself as much as reassure her.

When she opened her eyes again, Winter saw that they’d passed through the centre of town and were heading down Mossdown Street towards the woods on
the outskirts. Owl Mountain loomed in the distance, its peak wreathed in tendrils of mist.

‘When . . . when was I supposed to die?’ she whispered hoarsely, fear stealing her voice.

Blake hesitated a moment before answering. ‘The church. I should never have intervened.’

Of course! Ever since Blake had rescued her from Pilgrim’s Lament, Winter had felt her subsequent days stained by a dark shadow. The figures she’d seen in mirrors, the disturbing dreams, all these troubling events now made sense in light of the information she’d learned. Her mind raced, linking the near-crash on Maple Boulevard, the falling light in the surf club, and being forced over the cliff, to the malignant presence of the Skivers. They were bad luck incarnate – it was amazing she’d survived this long.

‘I thought they couldn’t attack their victims directly? There were rules . . .’ she asked, desperately grabbing at the inconsistency.

Blake shook his head. ‘The Sight let you see them in their true form. Not as shadows or nightmares, but as they exist on the spectral plane. Once this visual contact is made it renders the contract void. The Skivers can take you whenever they want.’

As her shock slowly began to wear off, Winter felt like she might be sick. Sucking in air to quell her churning nausea, she couldn’t stop dwelling on her fate. Those things were coming for her very soul – what would happen if they succeeded in taking it? Would she pass
on to an afterlife? Wink out like a candle? Be damned for all eternity?

‘Why did you do it, Blake?’ she asked, her voice cracking slightly. ‘If you knew what was going to happen – why did you save me?’

He swallowed, his expression pained. ‘How could I not?’

Winter looked over and saw the fear shadowing his handsome features. Not for himself. For her. Even now, in the clutches of her own all-consuming dread, she hated knowing she was the cause of his anguish.

‘We need to find somewhere dark,’ Blake said, voice thick with new resolve.

‘I’m sorry?’ Winter wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly.

‘Help me look for an open garage. Somewhere the light of day can’t reach.’

‘You’re not making any sense!’

‘Trust me.’

Winter squinted through the rain-smeared windows at the tightly clustered houses flashing by outside. She might not know why she was looking for a garage, but she looked anyway. He hadn’t needed to ask her to trust him. Right now Winter was willing to do pretty much anything Blake told her. He was her only light in the darkness, the only hope she had of survival.

Blake’s truck roared into Dent Crescent, which, despite its plain-sounding name, was one of the more affluent locations in Hagan’s Bluff. Not as bunched
together as in the preceding streets, these grand homes were spaced widely apart in large tree-spotted properties. Most had roomy garages the size of Winter’s house. Unfortunately, all of them appeared to be closed.

Blake’s eyes suddenly fixed on a location. ‘There!’

Winter saw the open garage Blake had spotted. It was adjoining a house erected in the Tudor style, the architectural magnificence somewhat tarnished by three plastic flamingos sprouting from the garden bed. Either the owners had a whimsical sense of humour or questionable taste. Luckily, there were no cars parked in the garage, which meant they’d forgotten to close it behind them, or there was somebody home. Evidently this last possibility didn’t bother Blake as he pulled over and brought the truck to a juddering stop at the base of the driveway.

Winter shot another terrified glance at the rear window. The Skivers continued to bear down on them. They were two blocks away, closing the distance with frightening speed.

‘Blake!’

‘I know. Run!’

In her panicked state, Winter didn’t quite understand what he wanted her to do – why had they stopped here again? Seeing the confusion in her face, Blake leaned across and pushed the passenger door open for her. ‘Run, Winter! Into the garage.’

Winter jumped out of the truck and stumbled up the rain-slicked driveway. She heard Blake slam the truck door behind her and his feet slapping on the wet concrete
as he dashed to catch up. They crossed into the shadow of the garage, and Blake left Winter standing confused in its centre as he searched for the door control. At last the garage door began to lower with a loud pneumatic hiss. But slowly – so slowly.

Winter couldn’t see the Skivers, but judging by the speed at which they moved, she feared they were close. Any second now, she expected to see them slide through the shrinking gap between the floor and the garage door like nightmarish black snakes. Mercifully, the door finally clunked to a halt and the room was plunged into a murky half-light. Winter tried desperately to keep herself together. Above her the rain beat a staccato rhythm as it struck the garage’s tin roof, keeping time with her own frantic heartbeat.

Little details stood out as her mind catalogued what might very well be the last place she’d ever see. Standing in the gloom, she could make out a small oil spot on the concrete floor; an old peanut butter jar full of rusty nails sitting on the workbench; a grass-covered lawnmower pushed against the wall.

‘Blake?’ Winter heard herself say quietly.

‘Yes?’ he answered in distracted tones. He was busy blocking a window with an old sheet he’d found stuffed under the bench.

‘What do they do with the souls they take?’

He paused, before replying firmly, ‘You’re never going to have to find out.’ Finishing with the sheet, he returned to where she was standing. ‘Take my hands.’

Winter slipped her cold, wet hands into his, astonished at how warm they felt. Though it was very dark inside the garage now, some yellowish light still seeped through the grime-encrusted window over the workbench. By its sickly glow, Winter could see his face, the furrowed brow beneath his black curls, eyes burning brightly with the Occuluma. Right now she didn’t care what the spectral green light signified or that it marked him as unique among the others she’d seen. She’d always known Blake was different, felt it in her heart that very first instant their eyes had met. Whatever secret lurked behind those dazzling emerald flames wouldn’t change her feelings for him.

‘I don’t regret kissing you.’ If this was to be one of her last moments, it was important Blake knew that. That he understood how much the kiss had meant to her – how much
he
meant to her.

‘I’m glad,’ Blake said, his face softening. A faint smile played across his lips before he closed his eyes. ‘Now, don’t say another word. I have to concentrate.’

Winter nodded and waited.

Nothing happened.

Blake opened his eyes and exhaled in frustration. ‘It’s too bright in here.’

Winter still didn’t understand why he needed it to be dark, or even what they were doing in this garage. It felt as though she’d stumbled into a dream where the rules of reality arbitrarily changed every five minutes or so. The
quality of light in the room shifted slightly as a shadow moved in front of the window.

She looked past Blake’s shoulder and felt a scream rise in her throat. ‘They’re here!’

The Skivers had silently materialised in the garage and were approaching Winter and Blake from three separate sides. They began clicking excitedly to one another. The Master stared at Winter, its obsidian eyes boring into her own. There was no mercy in that blackness, no humanity. Just cold intent.

Blake closed his eyes against the Skivers, his brow knitting in concentration.

‘Hold on tight.’

Thunder rumbled overhead (or was it inside?). The scene behind him shimmered, as though reflected onto a mirror – a mirror that was being bent and warped and stretched – before exploding into a million shards. There was an emerald-tinged darkness, filling Winter’s vision, swallowing them whole.

Winter knew she wasn’t dead this time, but having that knowledge didn’t make it any easier to accept what she was seeing. They were flying again. Flying through the same dark skies they had the previous night. Blake was at her side, still holding her hand. He smiled reassuringly, and Winter knew that as long as she held onto him she would be safe.