Winter's Light (35 page)

Chapter 60

There was a sense of inevitability about his arrival. Like the course of a nightmare rising to its zenith. As he came closer she saw that while his expensive suit was torn and stained with blood, Benedict’s hair remained as immaculately styled as ever. For some reason this horrified Winter more than the blood.

‘My, my you have led me on a merry chase,’ he tutted in disapproval. ‘So much trouble over such a little thing. Still, I must thank you. Were it not for your stubborn refusal to die I might have missed all the fun tonight. That would have been an awful shame.’

‘Glad I could help,’ Winter said, valiantly trying to retain her composure. Her eyes flicked past Benedict, searching for an escape route or for signs of rescue. She thought of Sam lying bleeding in the great hall. He could barely move let alone fight off a small army of Demori. There was no-one else to come for them. She and Jas were alone.

‘You want her? You gotta go through me!’ Jasmine said, her voice shaking. Winter glanced over and saw her friend glaring at Benedict through fearful tears – loyal and brave to the last.

Benedict’s gaze narrowed, and his smile grew colder and crueller. ‘Is that so? Well, as intimidating as you are, my love, I’ll take my chances. You see, we have unfinished business, she and I. Of course, you’re more than welcome to watch. I’m quite the showman once I get started.’

‘Just get on with it before you bore us both to death,’ Winter said, tired of the game.

Benedict’s smile faded. ‘As you wish.’ And with that he lunged across the space between them, pouncing on Winter like a cat. Jasmine immediately ran to Winter’s aid, but was knocked back effortlessly by Benedict. Winter saw her fly through the air into the waiting arms of a nearby Demori, who caught her like she was a tossed ball.

‘Jasmine!’

Benedict grabbed her chin, forcing her attention back to him.

‘Let me —!’ Winter couldn’t finish her sentence, the words were snatched away, stolen by the iridescent green of Benedict’s eyes. She knew she shouldn’t look at him, but it was too late. Already her will to fight was fading, a sad acceptance rushing to fill its place.

‘There we go,’ Benedict cooed to her, stroking the sides of her face. His breath smelt sickly sweet. ‘Nothing to get so upset about. Just a kiss. That’s all I want to give you. A simple kiss . . . before death.’

His mouth drifted closer, the hypnotic light in his eyes brightening, eclipsing the night.

Thunder exploded and Benedict’s features were splashed with green light. Flicking his head in irritation, he growled at the Demori who had materialised. ‘What do you think —’

Benedict’s question became a strangled grunt as he was yanked violently off Winter. In a stunning display of strength, the Demori hurled Benedict at the fountain, his body smashing through it like it was made of paper.

A shocked hush fell over the onlookers.

Blinking in the rain, Winter shielded her eyes. A small gasp escaped her lips.

Slowly, Blake turned to regard the crowd of Demori. With his long hair and the firelight reflecting off his rain-slicked chest, Blake looked like some primitive warrior come to do battle.

Behind the fountain there was an enraged growl as Benedict picked himself up from the rubble. ‘You dare interrupt? She is rightfully mine! I made the claim. The law —’

‘Do not lecture me on the law,’ Blake said, his voice hoarse yet commanding. Winter had never heard him use such a tone before. ‘Who do you think wrote it?’

His question was met with a shocked murmuring from the crowd. Glancing around, Winter saw there were now at least fifty Demori standing by.

‘You are not he,’ Benedict said, the trembling in his voice betraying his uncertainty. ‘Not the First. Not the All Father!’

Sensing her position between Blake and Benedict was precarious, Winter scrambled backwards, not caring that she was shoulder to shoulder with the Demori spectators. She threw a quick worried glance into the crowd and saw Jasmine. She was alive – the Demori holding her was too absorbed with the building conflict.

‘Careful little one,’ Blake said, a dangerous smile creasing his lips. ‘I might be weakened, but I have more than enough strength for you.’

Watching Benedict’s hesitation as he stared at Blake across the broken fountain was enormously satisfying. Still, Winter wasn’t sure, despite his confidence, if her love was strong enough to fight Benedict. He was still so thin, so wan. The same thoughts seemed to be running through Benedict’s head as he gestured to Blake and addressed the others.

‘Do you hear him? This wretch thinks he’s the First,’ he sneered, clearly expecting the crowd to side with him. Instead, he was met with frowning, worried expressions. Winter didn’t know how, but Blake’s abrupt appearance had shifted the power balance.

‘Time to go, little one,’ Blake said, a warning edge to his low voice. ‘Run away, now. Run away.’

Benedict didn’t seem eager to look at Blake, as if by ignoring him he might deny his existence. ‘Fools! I’ll show you then!’ he shouted to the crowd. ‘Prove to you he’s an imposter!’

He now faced Blake, mouth twisted into a feral snarl, eyes glittering dangerously. Coiling back onto his haunches, Benedict launched himself through the air, moving almost too fast for Winter to see. Mid-air he disappeared in a blaze of green fire, exploding out a second later behind Blake. Blake twisted, catching Benedict as he made a lunge at his neck, and the two of them wrestled violently, exchanging blows.

Winter held her breath as Benedict seemed to get the upper hand, raking his fingers across Blake’s bare skin and drawing blood. Blake cried out in pain, and stumbled backwards.

‘You see!’ Benedict crowed. ‘He’s noth—’ Blake leapt forward, silencing him with a series of devastating punches. The wound his enemy had inflicted seemed to have summoned a rage Winter never would have thought possible in her love. Fists blurring, he pummelled Benedict mercilessly, driving him backwards against the fountain. Reeling, Benedict made one last desperate attempt to escape – Travelling in a weak flash of light. Blake chased him through the split in reality, leaving the garden vibrating with echoes of their battle. Winter’s chest started to ache. She let out the breath she’d been holding just as there was another flash of emerald light and Blake reappeared, carrying Benedict in a headlock.

‘I’m sorry . . . I’m sorry,’ Benedict mumbled, barely conscious. ‘I didn’t know.’ Tears rolled down his cheeks, mingling with the rain and blood. Blake dropped him on the ground and the humbled Demori slowly pulled himself onto his knees, scrabbling at Blake’s pants, begging him. ‘Please . . . forgive me, All Father. The First of us. I am your son.’

Blake regarded him coolly. ‘You are not my son.’

Winter gasped as Blake’s hands shot out in one lightning-quick movement and twisted Benedict’s head around, breaking his neck with a loud snap. Benedict, his head grotesquely facing backwards, dropped to the ground, features frozen forever in a shocked expression.

Breathing heavily with exertion, Blake turned his forbidding gaze on the rest of the gathered Demori.

‘Leave here. All of you. Now!’

There was perhaps a second or two of hesitation as the Demori looked at Blake and then at each other. And then one by one they began to vanish. When the staccato bursts of emerald had faded, Blake closed his eyes and turned his face up to the sky.

Winter watched Blake as he washed himself in the rain. Part of her wanted to run and throw her arms around him, the other part pleaded caution. It wasn’t just the fact that he’d just brutally killed another Demori in front of her, nor was it the memory of his attack in the tower – no, it was something else. He seemed disturbingly . . . different.

Limping through the mud, Jasmine joined her. ‘Do you think they’ll come back?’

Winter couldn’t take her eyes off Blake. ‘No.’

Jasmine followed Winter’s sight line to the half-naked figure standing in the rain.

‘Oh my God . . . is it really him?’

Prompted by the two girls’ voices, Blake lowered his head from the downpour and frowned. ‘I must apologise,’ he said, addressing Winter. ‘Before in the castle. I lost control.’

‘Are you okay?’ Winter said, accepting his apology without question. At the moment she was much more concerned with the fact that he was looking at her as if they’d just met.

Suddenly, recognition sparked in his eyes, but not the warm recognition of love she was hoping for. ‘You’re the girl from the stone.’

The statement was a confirmation of her fears. ‘Don’t you know me?’ she said, her voice cracking. ‘Blake, it’s me! Winter!’

His confused expression wavered, the creases in his forehead relaxed. Something she said had got through to him, but this new understanding was overshadowed by a kind of pity that made Winter even more upset.

‘Oh . . . I see.’

‘What do you mean? What – what have they done to you?’ Tears began streaming down her cheeks.

‘Please, don’t be upset,’ he began, surprised as Winter rushed towards him, burying her head in his chest.
Remember me!
she willed him, his skin cold beneath her hot tears.

‘Hold me, Blake – just hold me,’ she sobbed. ‘Maybe then you’ll remember?’

She felt his hands cup her shoulders and gently push her back.

Blake stared at her sympathetically with his shining emerald eyes.

‘I’m very sorry, I can see how upset you are . . . but I’m not Blake. I’m Ariman, Blake’s father.’

Chapter 61

Winter felt her knees buckle and would have fallen were it not for Ariman’s steadying hand. ‘Help me with her,’ he called to Jasmine. Both of them gently led Winter to the stone bench beneath the tree. There, they were shielded somewhat from the relentless rain.

‘Is she okay?’ Winter heard Jasmine ask from far away. It was as though she’d fallen down a well.

‘Yes,’ Ariman said. ‘She’s in shock. Look at my eyes, Winter.’

Winter could hardly see the two concerned faces floating in front of her. Darkness was pressing against the corners of her vision.

‘Look at me,’ Ariman repeated, addressing her the way he’d addressed the Demori. With authority and power. Winter’s eyes met his as she came back to herself, her senses sharpening once more. Ariman looked so much like Blake they could be twins. The similarity was cruel and, as irrational as it was, Winter found herself in that moment hating Ariman.

‘Win?’ Jasmine asked, gently rubbing her hand.

Winter tore her gaze from Ariman. ‘I’m . . . okay, Jas. I’m okay,’ she repeated, more for herself than for the others.

‘Where is my son, Winter? Where is Blake?’ His intense, questioning gaze dropped to her necklace. ‘Why do you wear his lodestone?’

‘Hey, buddy! Do you think you could give her some space?’

Winter shrugged off her friend’s protest. ‘I can speak.’ Blake’s father deserved the truth, even if the truth was painful to say. ‘I’m sorry . . . Blake’s dead.’

Ariman’s mouth twitched, a small movement that spoke volumes of his grief. His eyes grew unfocused, staring past Winter. After a minute’s silence, his eyes narrowed again and grew dangerously clear. ‘The Bane?’ he asked through gritted teeth.

Winter shook her head, forcing the words out. Her throat tried to constrict around them, sealing them inside.

‘No. The Skivers.’

Ariman’s mouth dropped open in surprise. ‘Impossible! That they would take one of us!’

‘The Skivers were coming for me and Blake offered himself in my place.’ She paused before adding softly, ‘He died for me.’

Ariman turned away, staring at the ground moodily. Suddenly, he jerked his head towards her, desperately seizing upon a possibility. ‘When? When did this happen?’

Startled by the intensity of his expression, Winter drew a blank.

‘Answer me!’ he demanded, voice booming through the garden.

‘Th-three months ago.’

The news seemed to both calm and encourage Ariman. Nodding to himself, he muttered, ‘Then there is still time.’

This whispered utterance was enough to coax Winter from the place she’d retreated to inside herself.

‘You mean you can save him? Bring him back?’

Ariman glanced at her distractedly. ‘Perhaps.’ He remained in thought a minute longer before giving the girls his attention again. Suddenly he graciously bowed to Winter. ‘I must go now. Thank you for my freedom.’

He turned and began briskly walking towards the keep.

Winter looked to Jasmine for guidance. Her friend could only manage a helpless shrug.

‘Wait!’ Winter called after Ariman, jumping to her feet. ‘Where are you going?’ She ran to keep up with him, almost slipping on the wet gravel. Jasmine followed reluctantly in her wake.

Ariman did not break his stride, did not look at her.

‘There is something I must attend to in the castle,’ he said cryptically.

‘We’ll come with you,’ Winter said, struggling to match his determined pace.

‘Are you sure, Win?’ Jasmine asked from behind.

‘Listen to your friend, Winter,’ Ariman said, his eyes darting briefly to her.

‘I’m not leaving,’ Winter said firmly. ‘Not until we talk about Blake.’

‘I have no interest in discussing the matter with you.’

‘Too bad. I’m not letting you out of my sight until you tell me about Blake.’

His jaw clenched in frustration but he didn’t say anything else.

‘I’m going to wait here, Win,’ Jasmine said, pulling up short before they reached the keep’s high-arched doors. Winter stopped, mindful that Ariman had continued on without her.

‘Are you okay?’

‘Yes.’ Jasmine nodded vigorously. Too vigorously. ‘I just don’t want to go back inside. I’ll be safe here. The Demori have gone now, and if I hear anyone coming, I’ll hide.’

Winter searched her friend’s face, bitterly torn. In the end, Jasmine nudged her forward, pointing at Ariman’s receding form as he marched up the stone steps to the entrance.

‘Go. You’ll lose him!’

Still Winter hesitated. She watched her friend force a smile.

‘I’ll be fine. Go and do what you need to do.’

Hating herself for doing it, Winter nodded gratefully and ran to catch up to Ariman.