Evanescent Page 15

  Felix began frantically fumbling with the Piriot. He aimed, and fired again.

  “Oh, hell,” he said.

  “Don’t say oh hell!” Bronwen exclaimed. “Oh hell, what?”

  “Oh hell, it’s not working.”

  “What do you mean, it’s not working?”

  “No need to panic. I can see exactly what the problem is.”

  “So fix it!”

  He shook the Piriot. “I don’t think it’s fixable.”

  “But you said you knew what the problem was!”

  “I do. It’s a replica.”

  Bronwen glanced from Felix to Alistair and Loki, who darted at the Severan, struggling to buy time.

  “A… replica?” she stuttered. “As in… a toy?”

  Felix frowned. “It’s not a toy, Bronwen. It’s a highly sought after collector’s item.”

  “Whatever!” she exclaimed. “It’s not real! You’ve been carrying that thing around for the past three days and it doesn’t even work!”

  Felix clutched his heart in a show of wounded pride. “It’s not a thing. It’s a Piriot. Replica,” he added quietly.

  “You should have tested it or something,” Bronwen snapped.

  “What would I have tested it on? You?”

  “What are we going to do?” she spluttered.

  He thought about it for a moment. “Run,” he said. “Back to the castle. Go!”

  Bronwen cast one last look in the Severan’s direction before racing into the trees. She stumbled over herself, fighting her way through the overgrown bracken as she clambered uphill towards the castle.

  Every few steps, she checked over her shoulder. Her pulse was racing at what felt like a million beats per second. The Severan didn’t seem to be following her, at least. Well, that’s one thing in my favour, she thought sourly.

  And then something dropped to the ground in front of her, and a large shape was suddenly blocking her path. A large shape that, if she wasn’t mistaken, looked an awful lot like the Severan.

  “Don’t move!” came Felix’s voice from behind her.

  She didn’t dare turn around.

  The Severan stepped closer, staring her down with its rabid eyes. In the moonlight, its teeth glinted with saliva. Finally face to face with it, she could see how animal-like this thing truly was.

  “Felix, what do I do?” Bronwen cried.

  “Just don’t move!”

  “Help me,” she pleaded with him. “Do something!”

  She heard the sound of him fiddling with the Piriot. “It’s really not going to work,” he said.

  “Yes, we’ve established that. Do something else!”

  She heard the click of the Piriot again, but dared not take her eyes off the Severan.

  “Felix,” she yelled, “stop messing around with that stupid thing and help me!”

  The Severan lurched towards her and she jumped back, stumbling over the undergrowth and colliding into Felix. This time she turned to him, and their eyes met in a moment of helplessness.

  He exhaled sharply, then tossed the Piriot on the ground… and ran.

  Bronwen stared after him in dismay. “Felix!” she cried as he vanished into the thicket of trees.

  He was gone. He had given up, leaving her to face the Severan alone. Leaving her to die at the hands of the hunter. After all they’d been through, and after everything he’d promised, Felix had thrown in the towel.

  Coward, she thought, choking back the tears. “Coward!” she screamed into the tranquil night.

  With a shaky breath, she turned to face the Severan.

  “What do you want from me?” she murmured.

  Its lips curled into a sinister smile.

  Bronwen stepped back. “You can’t have me.” There was nothing left to do, nowhere left to run. It was time to fight for her life.

  But as she met the Severan’s bloodthirsty eyes, she heard the ground rumble behind her. She glanced back at the trees in time to see Felix speeding towards them, clouds of dust spewing from his heels and a tiny silver pellet clasped between his fingers.

  Bronwen looked to the Piriot on the ground. Its barrel had been emptied.

  She gawped as Felix shot forward at an incomparable speed, and with a sharp splitting sound his fingers penetrated the Severan’s skin. Straight through the heart.

  Felix swiftly withdrew his hand, minus the bullet, and wrinkled his nose in disgust.

  The scream of the Severan sliced through the quiet night. It jerked backwards, thrashing its head violently before dropping to the ground with a thud. For a while it convulsed and flailed in the undergrowth, and then… nothing. Steam rose from its motionless body like a candle extinguished.

  Bronwen’s jaw dropped. “Felix, I—”

  He raised his index finger to silence her. “We’ll talk about this later. Right now, I’m going to need to wash my hand. Preferably with bleach. Or something stronger.”

  “Uh… Yeah. Sure.” She stared at the lifeless body amongst the bracken. “Is it… dead?”

  Felix joined her gaze. “I can’t imagine it’d smoke like that if it wasn’t.” He prodded the Severan with his foot.

  “Um, thanks,” said Bronwen.

  “No problem.”

  “You really…” she lowered her voice, “killed it.”

  “You seem surprised.”

  “Well… I am.”

  “Why?” he asked, flicking up the collar of his shirt. “I told you I’d do it.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The Bitter Taste of Victory

  “We did it,” Loki murmured euphorically. “We actually did it! Do you realise what this means?” He looked tearfully at Alistair, Felix and Bronwen, all seated in their chairs around the fireplace. “We’ll be cured. It’s finally over. We’re… free.”

  Felix’s nose twitched anxiously. “Now, don’t get too carried away, Loki. Have you ever known a cure to work in the past?”

  “We’ve never had a cure in the past,” Loki pointed out.

  Felix waved his hand. “That’s beside the point,” he said vaguely.

  Loki frowned at him.

  “I’m famished,” said Felix after an awkward pause. “Who’s for a snack?”

  “Felix,” Alistair ventured, “don’t you think there’s something more important we should be doing?”

  “What could be more important than satisfying my hunger?”

  “The cure!” Loki wailed. “Aren’t you desperate to get it?”

  Felix studied his thumbnail, defiantly nonchalant. “You know, I still can’t get the Severan blood out from under my nail. I expect no amount of scrubbing will do.” He shuddered melodramatically.

  “Felix?” Loki snapped.

  “Yes?”

  “The cure!”

  “Relax. We’ve waited this long. What’s a couple more hours… days… weeks, even?”

  “Weeks?” Loki exclaimed. “Felix, have you lost your mind? We’ve already waited thousands of weeks!”

  “We’ve got time for a snack, Loki,” Felix argued.

  “This is what we’ve always wanted, and now it’s ours for the taking. How can you think of your stomach at a time like this?”

  Felix shrugged. “I’m hungry. Besides, I’m starting to wonder if this whole death thing is overrated.”

  “What?” Loki spluttered.

  Bronwen sat silently, not daring to voice her opinion. Not daring to wish for Felix to refuse the cure. But, just for one indulgent second, the picture crept into her mind. Was there a chance he might stay? Would he walk away from the cure and choose her instead?

  Her heart fluttered slightly, and she quickly gathered herself. Merely entertaining the thought was like stepping out onto a frozen lake, treading carefully in fear that at any moment it may give way and swallow her whole. It was the feeling of being afraid to take another step, and yet being exhilarated by the possibility and desire for more.

  And then, just like that, the ice cracked beneath her.

>   “Okay,” Felix relented with a heavy sigh. “I’ll get the cure. Will that appease you?”

  Loki flashed him an exuberant smile.

  “I’ll go with you,” Alistair offered.

  “No need,” said Felix. “I think I’d like to be alone for a while.” He glanced fleetingly at Bronwen before rising from his chair. Without another word, he walked wearily across the room, his head bowed.

  As he let the old oak door close behind him, Bronwen sprung from her chair and raced out into the corridor. Felix was already crossing the courtyard. She leaned over the balcony, looking down upon him. A cool midnight breeze played with the strands of his raven black hair.

  “Felix!” Bronwen called down to him.

  He looked up, smiling at the sight of her.

  “I love you, too,” she told him.

  ****

  Bronwen returned to the living quarters, where Alistair and Loki were basking in their fireside chairs.

  “Sit with us,” Loki beckoned her. “Celebrate with us!”

  She didn’t have the heart to tell him that she didn’t feel much like celebrating. She felt numb, and it was all she could do to not collapse right there in the middle of the room.

  This was it. It was really happening.

  “I’ll join you in a minute,” she called as she stumbled blindly to Felix’s alcove. Crouching to the carpet, she crawled in amongst his bedding, hiding herself from sight so that Alistair and Loki wouldn’t see her tears. And there she stayed, crying silently into Felix’s pillow.

  How had this happened? She wasn’t supposed to fall in love with him. It wasn’t meant to happen that way. And now she would lose him. And there was nothing she could do to stop it.

  She slipped her hands beneath the pillow, drawing it closer for comfort. But as she moved, her knuckles grazed against something solid. She rolled to the side and peered at the space where the cushion had been. Tucked into the far corner was a book.

  Bronwen sat upright, blotting her eyes with her sleeve. She heaved the book onto her lap and read the title.

  Myths and Legends.

  It was the book they’d borrowed from the library.

  Bronwen began flipping through its worn pages, smiling sadly at the memory of the first time she’d seen the text with Felix at her side. She skimmed over the werewolf section, and the dragon’s blood curse, and eventually came across a chapter entitled The Severan.

  So, this is how it all started, she thought, tracing her index finger over the words. As her gaze was travelling idly over the text, she stopped dead. Her mouth went dry.

  She looked up from the book. Alistair and Loki were still seated at the fire, chatting between themselves.

  Bronwen cleared her throat. “Guys?” she said.

  They glanced over at her.

  “Why do you think the Severan wanted me?”

  Alistair shrugged. “Who knows?”

  “Who cares,” Loki added.

  “It’s just…” Bronwen went on, “surely there was a reason?”

  “Probably,” Alistair agreed. “But I’m afraid we’ll never know. It’s over, Bronwen. You needn’t worry anymore.”

  Bronwen stared down at the open book. Actually, she thought grimly, I don’t think this is over for me yet. I have a feeling it’s just getting started. She continued reading.

  An hour later, the door swung open and Felix sauntered in.

  “One flask of instant death, at your service,” he sang. “And supersize it!” He held up a metallic blue thermal flask and shook it like a cocktail waiter.

  Bronwen eyed the thermos. She recognised it from the cottage. In fact, she’d used it recently. For tea, of course—not instant death.

  Alistair and Loki sprang to their feet. They bounded to Felix, circling the flask like it was some sort of Holy Grail.

  “Felix,” Bronwen began, clambering out from his alcove, “could I talk to you in private?”

  “Absolutely,” he responded brightly. “Just as soon as I’ve finished dying. Cups, please!”

  “Cups!” Loki cheered, sprinting out of the room. “Bronwen!” he hollered a few seconds later. “Where are the cups?”

  “In the cupboard,” she shouted back, distractedly. “Felix,” she whispered, “I need to talk to you. That paper document Ada gave you—the one I saw you sneak into your pocket at the cottage. I need to see it.”

  “What?” he said with a frown. “I have no recollection of any such thing. Besides, what do you want to see that for?”

  “Lantrice,” she recounted the word she’d read before he’d slipped the paper out of her sight. “It said Lantrice on it. I know where I’ve seen that word before…” Felix shifted, growing increasingly uncomfortable at the topic. “It was on the Christmas card that got you so worked up. The one from Lantrice House.”

  “Shh!” Felix hissed. “Keep your voice down.”

  Bronwen gripped his arm. “Please, Felix. I have to know. I have a right to know the truth, don’t I?”

  “What truth? And, no, some truths are better left unsaid.”

  “Tell me what Lantrice House is.”

  “Shh!” Felix quietened her again. “Not now.”

  Loki returned, singing loudly as he set out three cups on the dining table.

  “It’s time,” said Alistair, walking over to Felix and Bronwen with a serene smile on his face. “It’s been a wonderful life.”

  “Yeah, yeah, wonderful,” said Felix casually. He placed the flask on the grand oak table. “Shall I pour?” he asked.

  Bronwen stared at him, dumbstruck.

  He unscrewed the cap and distributed the yellowish liquid between the three awaiting cups.

  “I’d like to say a few words,” said Alistair, clearing his throat.

  Felix groaned impatiently. “Hurry up, then.”

  “Firstly,” Alistair began, “to Bronwen, for bringing such life into our world, and for leading us to our ending. For this, I am eternally grateful.” He smiled fondly at her. “Next, to my dear, wonderful friends, Felix and Loki. Our time has been long, but I do not feel cursed, because our years together have been truly blessed.” He lifted his glass. “To you, my friends. My brothers.”

  Loki’s eyes welled. “My brothers,” he repeated meaningfully.

  Felix yawned, and Bronwen gave him a quick nudge.

  “Huh?” he said. “Oh, yeah, brothers. Shall we get on with it, then?”

  Three faces stared blankly back at him.

  “Well,” said Alistair, clinking his glass against the other two. “Until we meet again.”

  The boys raised the cups to their lips and drank.

  Bronwen held her breath.

  “Mmm,” Felix murmured. “Delicious.”

  Loki swilled the liquid around in his mouth. “Tastes like… lemon tea.”

  “What a coincidence,” Alistair remarked, placing his empty cup on the table and staring intently at Felix. “Wasn’t it only this morning that you were quite in the mood for lemon tea?”

  “No. That was somebody else.”

  “No. It was definitely you.”

  “You must be mistaken,” Felix replied, smiling pleasantly.

  Loki blinked. “Are we dead yet?”

  “No,” said Alistair, “we’re not.”

  “Oh, well.” Felix discarded his empty cup on the table. “Never mind. Cures are so unreliable these days. Who’s for a late supper?”

  Alistair glared at him. “Do you think we were born yesterday?”

  “I know for a fact that you were not.”

  “Felix!” Alistair snapped. “Stop playing games. That wasn’t the cure.”

  “How dare you, Alistair! Of course it was the cure.”

  Bronwen watched as Loki’s face crumpled in devastation. Taking a chance on her gut feeling, she lifted the flask and brought it to her lips. Alistair and Loki froze as Bronwen took a sip.

  “This is lemon tea,” she confirmed. “It’s Ada’s recipe.”

  “Yes,”
Felix laughed nervously. “Ada’s recipe of death.”

  “You don’t have to do this, Felix,” Bronwen said under her breath. “Not for me.”

  He laughed again. “Bronwen,” he said, tautly, “I’m not doing anything. This is the cure. The cure happens to be lemon flavoured.”

  “I need to see the paper.”

  Alistair stiffened. “What’s going on? What paper?”

  “I have to see it,” Bronwen repeated. “I need to know.”

  “Know what?” Loki furrowed his brow.

  Felix grabbed Bronwen’s hand and steered her from the room. “This won’t take long,” he called over his shoulder to the boys. “She’s hysterical. I hear it’s an inherently female trait.” The door slammed shut behind them, and Bronwen and Felix stood against the balcony railing in the corridor.

  “For crying out loud, Snow!” Felix hissed. “Ever heard of subtlety?”

  “So it’s true?”

  “Discretion would be a fine thing.”

  “The paper from Lantrice House,” she murmured. “Please, I have to see it.”

  Felix rolled his eyes. “Follow me,” he instructed. “And don’t say I didn’t warn you. Some things are better left unsaid.” They walked down the steps into the courtyard. But instead of heading onto the drawbridge as they usually would, Felix led her to the stone courtyard wall where delicate oil lamps flickered in the night, and moths fluttered around the low flames.

  Felix glanced furtively to the corridor above before easing out one solitary stone from the wall. In the gap was a folded sheet of paper. He blew the dirt off it.

  “Before you see this,” he said, holding the paper between his forefingers, “you have to know that we hid this from you because we had to. All of us. It was the safest—”

  Bronwen snatched it out of his hand and unfolded it. She stared down at the official-looking document. It was as she’d feared.

  “Lantrice House,” she read aloud. “Oh, god. How can this be possible? Why did no one tell me?” she choked.

  “It was for your own safety. Although I was surprised that you’d never heard of Lantrice before,” Felix admitted. “That place is older than I am.”

  Bronwen read on, “Lantrice House. Adoption Papers for Bronwen…” She closed her eyes and let the paper slip to the floor. “Bronwen Bates,” she finished. “I’m related to Margo Bates, aren’t I?”