Winter's Light (29 page)

Chapter 48

‘Why didn’t you wake me?’ Jasmine hissed beside her as one of the kitchen staff placed a tray of sizzling bacon rashers on the table before them. They had arrived for breakfast early and were so far the only ones seated.

Winter shrugged apologetically, having expected this rebuke from her friend. ‘You were sleeping, Jas. I didn’t know if I was going to find anything.’

Jasmine pouted, grabbing a slice of toast from the stack and buttering it. No matter what her emotional state Jasmine always seemed able to eat, unlike Winter whose stomach felt like it had shrivelled to the size of a raisin. Looking at all the food – bacon, pancakes, scrambled eggs, toast, various spreads, fruit, yoghurt – made her feel queasy.

‘You still should have woken me. That’s what I’m here for. What good is it me being your bodyguard if you don’t keep me around?’ Jasmine grumbled and bit into her toast.

Winter smiled at her. ‘I know, Jas. Next time.’

‘There might not be a next time. Tonight’s the night remember?’

How could Winter forget? After Magdalene left, she’d lain awake thinking about everything the old woman had told her – the Fatelus, the Skivers, the bitter romance with the Demori. It was this last revelation that kept Winter awake the longest. Not because it cast doubt over her love for Blake, but because it revealed something disturbing about the old woman – she wasn’t so different from Winter. Just like her, Magdalene had loved a Demori, been gifted with the Sight and found herself living in mortal fear of the Skivers. Unlike Winter, though, Magdalene still suffered. It seemed the one Demori who might have had the power to save her had left her heartbroken. Winter couldn’t help but sympathise with Magdalene, and knew this was dangerous. The old woman was not her friend or ally. All she had to do was remember the bitterness in her voice when talking about the Demori to be reminded that she was every bit her brother’s sister. To trust that Magdalene wouldn’t harm Blake when (
if!
) they freed him was foolish.

And so she’d spent the rest of the night trying to come up with a contingency plan, some way she might avoid the inevitable double-cross. Unfortunately, without having the faintest idea about what was going to happen to her in the future, all she succeeded in doing was tying herself into knots. She didn’t know what the next hour would bring, let alone what would happen once she travelled to the Dead Lands with the Bane, so how was she supposed to plan for it?

Her expression must have revealed her anxious frame of mind because Jasmine lent over and whispered, ‘You say the word and we’re out of here. Okay?’

Before she could reply, Marcel’s booming voice rang through the dining hall.

‘Ah, breakfast at Castle Vled. My favourite time of the day. Apart from lunch and dinner.’ The jovial Frenchman crossed the hallway towards them and took a seat opposite.

‘I trust you both slept well, yes? I know I did.’

‘Very well,’ Winter lied. ‘Where’s Magdalene?’

Marcel started scooping bacon onto his plate. ‘She eats breakfast late.’

‘I heard men shouting last night on the wall. What happened?’

Marcel paused, his thick black eyebrows twitching in confusion. ‘Shouting you say? No, I didn’t hear anything. I was dead asleep. I’m sure it was nothing to worry about.’

‘You’re wrong, Marcel. We should all be worried.’ The voice came from behind them.

They turned and saw Yuri enter the chamber. He had three bloody scratches across his left cheek.

‘What happened?’ Winter asked, staring at the angry wounds.

‘The Demori,’ Yuri said grimly, taking a seat next to Marcel. ‘They ambushed us just outside Forêt Sombrè. At least twenty of them. I was lucky to get away with my life. Two men didn’t.’

Marcel’s face paled. He asked Yuri something in French, which earned a regretful shake of his head.

‘Was Benedict with them?’ Winter asked, feeling her blood run cold.

‘I didn’t see him,’ he said, reaching across the table to grab the coffee pot. He seemed eager to change the subject. ‘Perhaps now you’re beginning to understand just why you’re so important to us. The Demori are growing bolder. Amassing in greater numbers. A battle’s coming and we must be prepared. I understand you had your own encounter getting here?’

Winter nodded, remembering the cats swarming over the windshield. ‘We survived. How’s my sister?’ She was more concerned about Lucy than the Bane’s war.

‘She’s fine. Well, not
fine
but . . . I told her the story you wanted me to and she seemed to understand. There were no tears.’

Winter couldn’t help arching an eyebrow. ‘Really?’ Lucy
always
cried. Even when she was happy.

‘As I said, she seemed to accept the situation.’ He lent back into his chair, sipping on his coffee. ‘I think you should be focused on other matters at this stage.’

‘Thanks, Yuri, I’ll take that on board,’ she replied sarcastically. Despite his wounded appearance Winter’s dislike for the man was as strong as ever.

‘Hey.’ Jasmine joined the conversation. ‘Where’s Sam? I was hoping he might keep me company today.’

Winter couldn’t help glancing questioningly at her friend. Whatever resentment Jasmine had held against Sam had clearly been put to the side.

‘Sam is unwell,’ Yuri answered quickly. Marcel glanced up curiously from his plate of food.

‘He was in the infirmary with me last night. Something about pains in his stomach. Apparently he might have suffered some internal bleeding.’

‘Is he okay?’ Jasmine demanded, her worried expression mirroring Winter’s own concern.

Yuri smiled reassuringly. ‘Quite okay. There is no reason to panic. The doctor is treating him now and expects Sam to make a full recovery. However, I very much doubt he will be available to you today. You might have to make your own fun.’

Jasmine nodded, though she didn’t seem entirely comforted by Yuri’s explanation. Winter wasn’t either. Marcel’s curious look bothered her. If Sam was in the infirmary wouldn’t Marcel know about it?

Still puzzling over this, she heard the doors behind her open, followed by footsteps on the stone floor. Turning around, Winter saw Elena standing haloed in the morning light.

‘Are you ready to begin?’

Chapter 49

Winter followed Elena outside to the back of the keep, where a winding gravel pathway led them to a circular garden. Standing in the centre of the garden surrounded by bobbing petunias, daffodils and swaying fronds was a stone fountain and some marble benches. Goat-legged fauns danced around two voluptuous nymphs who were pouring a steady stream of water from their urns into the pool below. Above them the sky was the colour of the fountain’s stone: mottled grey. At least it wasn’t raining.

‘Please sit.’ Elena gestured to one of the white marble benches.

‘Okay, so let’s get on with this,’ Winter said, taking a seat and folding her arms. ‘Instruct me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Just how am I supposed to open this portal or Black Mirror or whatever you want to call it?’

Winter’s insouciance seemed to irritate Elena. ‘You speak about this as if it’s a joke? As if you don’t believe?’

Winter shrugged, looking away at the fountain. ‘I’m sorry. I guess it’s my way of dealing with it.’ She looked back at Elena and shook her head. ‘Between you and me, I think there might have been a mistake. I don’t feel like I have any power.’

‘Yet you have opened locked doors before. You have used your gift.’

‘I don’t know how I do it though,’ she replied honestly. ‘It just . . . happens.’

Elena shook her head, dissatisfied with Winter’s response. ‘It doesn’t just happen. You make it so. You imagine the door opening and so it opens. Correct?’

Winter exhaled thoughtfully. ‘It can’t be that easy.’

‘It is. The Black Mirror is just another locked door. When you approach it you will place your hands like so.’ She demonstrated by pressing her palms against an imaginary obstruction. ‘Close your eyes and imagine the door opening. The surface will begin to feel hot, you will see fire, the heat will not burn you, unless . . .’

Winter arched an eyebrow quizzically. ‘
Unless
what?’ She didn’t like the way Elena had trailed off.

The Russian chewed her lip in deliberation. ‘Yuri will be displeased if I mention this, but you have a right to know.’ She lowered her voice. ‘If the fire starts to burn – let go! Do not hesitate.’

Winter licked her lips nervously. ‘Why? What does it mean if it burns me?’

‘It means you are unworthy. You are not a Key.’

Seeing Winter’s troubled expression, she added quickly, ‘There is no reason to be afraid. I am quite sure you’re the one we’ve been looking for.’

‘
Quite
sure? I thought you guys were positive? Now you tell me there’s a chance I’m gonna catch fire? Way to rock a girl’s confidence!’

‘Forget I said anything and please do not tell Yuri about this.’ She looked worriedly over her shoulder as if expecting to see Yuri standing there.

Elena’s distress was both unexpected and baffling. Winter didn’t think the woman was capable of such emotion.

‘It’s okay, I won’t tell him.’

Elena flashed a quick smile of gratitude and ran her gloved hand nervously through her hair.

‘Thank you. It is just . . . this is very important to him. You are important, I mean.’

Winter nodded, fascinated by the change in Elena. There was something plaguing her. Something just below the surface.

‘If you don’t mind me asking, how do you know about this? The fire, the Black Mirror – everything? Why are you the expert?’

A strange look came into Elena’s eyes. ‘Can I trust you, Winter?’

It was the first time she had used her name, a fact that was not lost on Winter.

‘Sure. I mean, why not?’

‘You asked me how I knew about the fire.’ She sucked in a breath and began to remove her gloves. ‘I discovered it for myself. You see . . .’ Winter gasped – the hands beneath were ghostly white, the tortured flesh of her fingers looked like melted candle wax. ‘I was unworthy.’

‘Why . . . why didn’t you let go before the fire – before it burned you?’

‘I told you before that Yuri saved my life.’ She pulled her gloves back on. ‘I would have done anything for him. He believed so strongly that I was a Key . . . I couldn’t bring myself to share with him my doubts. So, I went through with the ritual and suffered the consequences.’

Winter’s gaze drifted to the gloves and then to Elena’s tattoo beneath her eye. Life had scarred the woman, not once, but twice.

‘Didn’t Yuri warn you?’

Elena’s expression darkened, Winter’s question hitting a nerve. ‘If he knew about the dangers he would have told me.’ She sighed deeply, looking away at the fountain. ‘I am supposed to instruct you. Not frighten you. I am sorry. It is just . . .’ Another sigh, and she turned back to face Winter, her lips twitching as though she wanted to say something further.

‘Nothing,’ she finished. She reached into her coat and pulled out a knotted piece of black cord the size of Winter’s fist. The knot was thick and bulbous, the cord looping in on itself, twisting and snaking into a complex mess. ‘This will help you practise your focus,’ Elena said, tossing the cord to Winter.

‘The knot is a puzzle designed to be solved only by one with abilities such as yours.’

Winter frowned sceptically at the knotted cord. ‘I’m sure anyone with a pair of scissors could solve this puzzle.’

‘You miss the point. It is not the cord that is the puzzle but the complex shape it takes, the twists and turns. Hold it in your hands and feel it – not as a solid thing, but as a concept. The knot represents being bound, restricted, locked.’

‘Then what do I do?’

‘You unlock it. Close your eyes and call to mind the image of a door. It can be any door, but the clearer you can imagine it, the easier a time you’ll have opening it, so picture a door you know well. A door leading to a place that has meaning for you.’

‘Seriously?’

‘This is not a science. We are dealing with an ancient power here and for it to work you must close off your logical mind. Magic does not obey logic. It does not obey reason. It reacts to feeling, to confidence, to faith. You must have faith in yourself, Winter. Now, do as I say and close your eyes.’

She obeyed, listening to the water trickle from the fountain. In her mind, a locked door materialised. At first there was nothing special about the door, it was cream coloured with a brass doorknob, but as she concentrated on it something strange began to happen. The door shimmered, transforming into the entrance to Pilgrim’s Lament. Winter could see the knots and whorls in the grey wood, the handles bound with a rusted padlock. She felt the rope twitch in her hands and gasped.

‘I don’t believe this,’ she murmured.

The lock clattered to the ground, the image in her mind seemingly taking on its own life. Its own sense of action. Slowly, the doors opened outwards revealing a yawning darkness waiting inside. Suddenly, there was a green spark in the darkness. The spark grew brighter, becoming a monstrous fireball which roared towards her mind’s eye.

Winter gasped, the rope falling from her hands.

‘What is it?’ Elena said, watching her with folded arms.

‘Just a little jittery,’ she said. ‘I’ll get it.’ She picked up the cord. It had loosened considerably but was still knotted.

Elena unfolded her arms and looked at Winter in consternation. Her gaze jumped to the keep behind, as though checking again to make sure they were unobserved.

‘You are so very young, Winter,’ she said, lowering her voice. ‘Why are you doing this?’

‘You know why.’

Elena waved her hand in frustration. ‘Yes, yes – Blake. You do it for love. I heard you. But these are just words. You know about the risk of fire. However, should the portal open beneath your touch there are things much worse than fire and pain. Worse than even death. I’m talking about the Malfaerie.’ She paused, allowing Winter to consider this threat. ‘I need to know you are doing this for the right reasons.’

Still a little unnerved by the compassion Elena was showing her, Winter wasn’t immediately sure what to say. Eventually, she gestured for Elena to sit next to her on the bench. ‘Okay, let me tell you then. The Bane talk of the Demori as heartless monsters. I’ve heard it time and time again. All of you so convinced of your crusade. That you’re doing God’s work. But if just one Demori was good, kind and gentle, if one was capable of love, wouldn’t that call into question everything? Your beliefs? The war?’

Elena’s face had once again resumed its icy countenance, but Winter saw a flicker of hesitancy. It was enough encouragement for her to continue.

‘Let me tell you about Blake,’ Winter said. ‘Let me tell you about the man who saved my life. And then my soul.’

As she spoke, the fountain continued to gurgle and overhead the sky darkened; more clouds were moving in.