[Fosswell 01.0] A Brush With the Moon Page 17

  “Great shame about Parel. He was a fine warrior. Pity you weren’t here a moment sooner.” I thought he was being sarcastic, but then a smile reshaped his steely lips, and he hugged us in his enveloping arms. “It seems I underestimated your relationship. I thought you were human, Sophie.”

  “She’s a tenderfoot, Dad,” Sebastian said with pride.

  “Really? Excellent! Plucked from an ordinary life and handed a destiny, eh? That explains the pendant,” Hemming said, staring down at my chest. “Our family has been blessed.” He took my hands, squeezing them a little too tightly. “There are millions like us all over the world, but there are few like you. You are truly special, and I couldn’t be more pleased that you have chosen my son.”

  “Is that right, Dad?” Sebastian asked. “And what about cousin Verma?”

  “Who? Oh…yes, well, Connor can marry her,” he said dismissively. He jumped back suddenly, craning his neck over the ledge. “Now, let’s hope the others have located that damn tree so we can get out of this infernal place.”

  “Isn’t that them, over there, coming over the rise?” Sebastian said.

  I followed his gaze into the distance, where three men were speeding into view.

  “Why are they running?” I asked stupidly.

  Sebastian pointed to a blur on the horizon which was increasing in size by the second. “You’d be running too, if that were following you.”

  Hot on their heels, and closing in quickly, was a swarm of angry Cruor demons, furiously brandishing lethal swords and shooting bolts of fire at the fleeing men, missing them by mere feet. Arta paused for a second to hoist the charred corpse of his cousin over his shoulder before continuing towards the cliff.

  “Quick! Back to the terraplunger, kids!” Hemming shouted as I began fumbling my way, panic-stricken, back down the cliff to the beach.

  All of a sudden, Hemming pulled me towards him to avoid a jet of scorching steam shooting out from a nearby crevice. “Watch out!”

  My legs weakened and my breath grew short. I narrowly missed stumbling into the flow of lava as we crossed the stepping-stones, and the heat of the sand struck me again as we hastened to the column. It felt like walking barefoot on hot coals, and it took all my strength to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

  I glanced back to check on the others, but when I caught sight of the stream of fire ricocheting off the shield protecting Connor’s back, I wished I hadn’t.

  “They’re gaining on us. Faster, Sophie, faster!” Sebastian shouted, almost pulling my arm out of its socket.

  “But I can’t run like you,” I protested.

  I felt sick. The searing pain in my feet became too much. I knew I was going to faint.

  “Seb, help!” I cried. He caught me just in time, and sprinted the last few paces before leaping up to join his father on the terraplunger in a single bound and stamping on the button without waiting for the others.

  I couldn’t believe he’d left them behind, but I was delirious with pain, and the journey back added another layer. Words of protest wouldn’t come, and when the stone walls of the cellar materialised, I blacked out.

  Chapter Eighteen

  WHEN CONSCIOUSNESS finally returned, I was aware of someone holding my hand and soft hair tickling my cheek. I opened my eyes slowly, adjusting to the light, and found myself staring at the familiar sight of my bedroom ceiling at Lovell Towers. I tried to speak, but my throat was so parched that no sound came. Slowly, I turned towards the hair. Black hair…Connor’s hair. He’d made it back! But what was he doing here, at my bedside? Where was Sebastian? And my feet were hot. Why were my feet so hot? I tried to wiggle my toes, but nothing happened. Please, God, let me still have feet.

  Connor had fallen asleep on my arm, and I struggled to free it, waking him up in the process. He groaned and lifted his head, turning towards me. I swallowed to clear my throat and managed to find a broken voice as my arm tingled back to normality.

  “God, Connor. Your face…looks like a-a giant strawberry.” Dry coughs racked through me.

  Connor passed me a glass of water, and I gulped it back. “But you look amazing,” he said with puzzlement creasing his brow. “How did you manage that?”

  What? Only then did I notice my arms. I had a suntan. For the first time in her life, pale, freckle-faced Sophie had a suntan—in December! How would I explain that one? “I-I don’t understand. Where’s Seb?”

  “He had to bail.”

  Again? “Why?”

  “The Mitigula pack in Latvia has been wiped out, man. Dad and Uncle Hem had to jet over, show some respect, represent the family, you know. Arta’s taken Parel back to prepare for the funeral, and Seb had to take the tree stuff to witch lady. Should be back soon, though.”

  “Is that safe? Going to the funeral, I mean. Couldn’t they…catch the disease?”

  “Don’t think so. There has to be direct contact, and it seems to die with its host.”

  “Hmm.” I thought about Sebastian. “No offence, but…couldn’t you have gone? To deliver the elixir?”

  “Trying to get rid of me?” He paused, waiting for a rise that didn’t come, and then shrugged. “Seb’s not injured.” Connor spoke to the bed, and then, wincing with pain, he rose from his kneeling position and made to leave.

  I pushed myself up to a sitting position, and my pendant glinted at me. “Take your shirt off and come here.”

  His face brightened. “Is that an invitation?”

  “No. It’s an order.”

  He obeyed, and I tried not to stare at his rippling chest muscles when he sat on the edge of the bed, a little too close for comfort.

  “The fire got you, didn’t it?”

  “Shield slipped a bit.”

  “Turn around. I want to see.”

  He had a huge gauze pad taped to his back. I tried to be gentle, but he grimaced in obvious pain as I peeled it away.

  “Arrghh…dude!”

  “Shh. It’ll be fine. And stop calling me ‘dude’.”

  I’d imagined the sight that would greet me, but I wasn’t prepared for quite such a grotesque picture.

  An almost crescent-shaped patch of skin, the size of a dinner plate moon, had melted away. Blackened flaps of shrivelled crusts lined the edges of a great open welt. Red-raw and blistered skin merged with deeper patches of exposed muscle layer in a patchwork of rotting flesh. Blood and pus oozed through every crevice, and the smell was vile, like burnt meat.

  I had to hold myself together. I could do this.

  Placing my hands above his wound, I drew on the power of the pendant, feeling a surge of warmth well up inside me, like a hot air balloon rising into flight. My fingertips started to prickle and tingle with the healing energy flowing through them as they slowly descended the curves of Connor’s back. Blood stopped oozing, began to congeal, and dried up. Skin unfurled and flattened over healing flesh.

  It was working, but I struggled to continue. The task was draining all my energy, but I had to finish. I grabbed the pendant with one hand, leaving my other against Connor’s back, and closed my eyes to will every ounce of strength I had, channelling the power through my body and into Connor’s.

  When I opened my eyes, it was to see a perfectly tanned torso with a small wolf’s head tattoo adorning the dent in the small of his back. His injury had vanished. I fell back onto the pillow with exhaustion, amazed at my newly acquired powers.

  “Sophie? Sophie, are you okay?” Connor sounded worried. I felt his hand on my cheek, and I heard him speak, but I couldn’t muster the strength to answer.

  Then Sebastian’s familiar voice pierced my barrier of fatigue. “Once again, I find you in a compromising position with my girlfriend, Con. I do hope you aren’t taking advantage of her as she sleeps.”

  The bed jolted as Connor jumped up. I managed to raise my heavy eyelids enough to see Sebastian’s mouth gape open with shock at the sight of Connor’s newly healed back.

  Sebastian grabbed him and examined my
handiwork. “Did Sophie do that?”

  Connor nodded. “But it’s left her weak. I didn’t know…” he said, backing against the wall.

  “My God. What were you thinking, letting her use up her strength for that? Your injuries weren’t life-threatening. You would have healed perfectly well without her,” he chided. “It’s a good job I returned when I did.” Sebastian cemented himself firmly by my side and lovingly stroked my hair. “We’ll soon have you up and about, my darling.”

  Through the haze of my eyelashes, I watched him extract a tiny bottle of pink liquid from his pocket and remove the cork before gently prising open my dry lips and tipping a few drops onto my tongue. It wasn’t pleasant. The liquid was bitter and numbed my mouth, like sucking an aniseed ball, but the effect was almost instant.

  “Wow! I feel like I’ve just had twenty espressos on the trot. What is that stuff?” I gasped.

  “Instant energy in a bottle, a little pick-me-up present from Mathanway. Better?”

  “Much. Yes. So, is she making the antidote? How long will it take?”

  “Mollo’s delivering it in a couple of days. How are the feet?” Sebastian asked, screwing up his face with an anxious expression.

  I’d forgotten all about my feet. “I don’t really know. Do I still have some?”

  “Last time I looked.” He chuckled. “They were badly burned, though, and it took us ages to peel away all the melted rubber. It’s a good job you were out of it.”

  I threw back the covers and noticed, for the first time, the bandages around my feet. They’d been wrapped so tightly, my circulation had been cut off. That explained things.

  “Considering how well you’ve healed everywhere else, I think we should take a look, don’t you?” Sebastian said, lovingly taking hold of my foot and beginning to unravel its bindings. “Why don’t you take the other one, Con?” He beckoned Connor over before turning his attention back to me. “You’re going to need your dancing feet tonight.”

  “Why? What’s happening tonight?”

  “It’s Christmas. I think we all deserve a treat after the past few days. Jimmy’s returned from his tour, and Dad wants to welcome you to the family.”

  “Oh, no. Beth!” I said, suddenly remembering. I grabbed my mobile from the nightstand. “I kind of promised we’d spend Christmas together. She’s going to kill me for disappearing again.”

  “She’s welcome to stay here. You could pick her up when you go to get Lara, couldn’t you, Con?”

  “Sure,” said Connor glumly. He’d been gently massaging the blood back into my perfectly healed foot, but reluctantly he placed it back onto the sheet. “Better set off, actually. Looks like snow again.”

  There were four texts from Beth and two from Mum, neither of whom sounded too pleased. I sent Mum a text, apologising for going out and forgetting my phone. Yes, I’d got her card, yes, the cheque was safely inside, and yes, I would buy something ‘useful’ with it.

  Then I phoned Beth. I tried to sound cheerful. “Hey, girlfriend. Have you bought the turkey yet?”

  “With what? I could maybe stretch to a bag of sprouts, but you know my loan doesn’t come through until January, and I’m maxed out on my overdraft after the party. I was hoping you’d do the deed, but it’s hard to discuss these things with someone who’s never here,” she snapped.

  “I know. I’m sorry. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

  “I’m not sure I believe you. Honestly, Soph, I think I need to get a new flatmate. A reliable one who doesn’t keep acting weird and pulling the disappearing act on me. I thought we were flat-sharing, but I feel like I’m living here alone. You’re never around anymore. Please say I haven’t lost a friend.”

  “Of course you haven’t. And again, I’m sorry. I wish I could explain. It’s not what you think.”

  “We used to tell each other everything.”

  “You wouldn’t believe me.”

  “Try me.”

  “I will, soon. Look, pack an overnight bag and put your glad rags on. Connor will be there in fifteen to pick you up. I’ve got a surprise for you.”

  “The surprise would be actually seeing something of my friend, nowadays.” She sighed. “But I suppose a trip to Lovell Towers would be preferable to spending Christmas Eve by my lonesome. Don’t think it means I’ve forgiven you, though. There needs to be a serious amount of grovelling for that.”

  “Understood. Mucho grovelling coming up. See you soon.”

  ***

  Half an hour later, the girls arrived, and I was there to greet them in the hall. As I enveloped Beth in a huge bear hug, I shot Lara a dirty look. She mirrored my distaste before following us into the living room, from which the faint sounds of a choral choir were emerging.

  Someone had gone to a lot of trouble. It was beautiful. The room was lavishly swathed with holly and evergreen garlands. Between the two end windows stood a huge, ornately decorated Christmas tree with gleaming baubles and pretty, twinkling lights, with its golden angel appearing to prop up the elaborately painted Rococo ceiling. The heady scent of pine merged with winter spices hailing from a large bowl of warm, mulled wine sitting invitingly on the coffee table in front of the roaring fire crackling cosily in the grate under a candle-adorned mantelpiece.

  “Not out with Vincent tonight, then?” I sneered at Lara as she settled down on the sofa, pinning a rather peeved Connor against the sofa’s arm.

  She absent-mindedly stroked her smooth dark locks. “He’s working. Christmas Eve’s a busy night at the club.”

  “Doesn’t he mind you putting it about in his absence?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I’m a free agent, and I’ll see who I like.”

  Her hand dropped possessively onto Connor’s knee, and she gave it a suggestive squeeze. I swore I saw him cringe with embarrassment before picking up a copy of Mojo from the side table in an attempt to escape her attentions.

  “It’s not my fault that I’m blessed with this body and men are falling over themselves to date me,” Lara continued, reaching over with her other hand to stroke Connor’s arm. He ignored her, his eyes never leaving the page.

  “Don’t you mean, sleep with you?” I said, trying to provoke her.

  “I won’t deny that I like to share the goodies.”

  My eyebrows shot up at her candour. “That’s not exactly something to boast about. Your intelligence must be as skimpy as your clothes.”

  “Jealous are we, little Miss Cock-tease?”

  “As if. I’m more than happy with one man. Thanks for asking, though.”

  “Let me see. Oh, yes, that would be a man who’s totally out of your league, and whose life you could only ever dream of fitting into. A man who obviously has had some kind of brain seizure and decided to slum it for a while. Ooo, and yes, one of my rejects.”

  “I heard that,” Sebastian said from the other side of the room.

  “You wish it were that way around.” I chuckled. “Just because you met a man who refused to bow down to the Throne of Lara…”

  “Look, is there going to be an intermission in this? Because non-stop bickering is not exactly what I had in mind for this evening,” Beth interrupted as she threw peanuts in the air and caught them in her mouth. “Could we at least try to play nicely, girls? I’m in need of some serious festive R & R tonight, and I don’t want to be retrieving scratched-out eyeballs from under the sideboard.”

  Sebastian came over to join us and handed out glasses of warm liquor.

  I didn’t have time to reply to Beth. Voices in the hall diverted my attention. The family had arrived.

  Connor’s parents were the first to enter, followed by Hemming pushing his mother in her chair. Cowering behind them, trying to remain inconspicuous, shuffled Tamar, dressed head-to-toe in what looked like her grandmother’s flowery nightdress.

  “Um…I should warn you, Seb’s sister has a…genetic condition which may shock you. Please try not to make an issue of it,” I whispered rapidly into Beth’s ear bef
ore the group rounded the sofas and came fully into view.

  Upon glimpsing Tamar, Lara immediately choked on her wine, spraying everything within a two-foot radius with a spicy shower, and she quickly fled to the bathroom to recover.

  I needn’t have worried about Beth, though. She kept her composure and soon took quite a shine to Tamar, trying continuously to get her to join in with the conversation. Alas, Beth’s only reward was an occasional smile, shrug, or nod from the timid girl who was unused to company.

  Hemming had parked Grandmother Lovell to the side of us, next to the fire and disappointingly within earshot. She seemed to relish throwing disapproving comments into many of Beth’s girly conversations, inviting conflict. We heard all the old favourites, from “Beauty comes from within” to “I never even kissed a boy until my wedding day,” but when she stared directly at my chest and commented that not even the penny hookers down Cookstool Lane used to dress as tackily as we had tonight, I couldn’t ignore her anymore, and I saw red.

  So what if I was showing an inch of cleavage? I was dressed in a classy, plain black dress with long sleeves, the hem of which fell way below my knees. It couldn’t possibly be mistaken for tacky. Who did she think she was?

  “And, of course, in my day there were none of these wild hairdos and unnatural colours you see around now. We made use of what we were blessed with, as nature intended,” she continued to babble, throwing sideways glances at my head.

  “Yeah, and that wig’s really natural,” I mumbled angrily against Sebastian’s shoulder.

  “Sophie!” he chastised me. “Cut her some slack. Christmas is one of the few times we can get her to venture out of her room,” he pleaded, holding my arm to prevent me from rising into confrontation. “She’s approaching her eighty-ninth birthday and can no longer walk or hear very well.” I opened my mouth to protest, but was silenced by a fingertip. “Yes, I know there’s nothing wrong with her tongue. However, if we ply her with enough booze and cross our fingers, she might nod off.”

  I wasn’t too hopeful.

  The elder family members had gathered over by the tree and were clearly enjoying themselves. Wisps of cigar smoke spiralled up from their centre towards the ceiling, settling in a noxious haze over their heads. Laughter and loud, out-of-tune singing had obviously been fuelled by the now half-empty wine bowl and a freshly opened bottle of whisky. Hemming took hold of his sister-in-law a little too familiarly and proceeded to twirl her around the room, almost colliding with a nearby armchair, to the amusement of the room—and then he pointed out the mistletoe and proceeded to lip-lock her into submission.