Evanescent Read online

  “No, dear,” he replied in a tone that Bronwen knew was said with a grin.

  He began whistling again. And she continued to smile.

  A short while later, weighed down by a heap of leather-bound volumes, Bronwen returned to the table area. Felix was already seated, sifting through his own findings.

  He flipped idly through a musty book. “Huh,” he said, pausing on a page. “Did you know that a werewolf can grow up to ten times the size of a normal wolf?”

  “Very interesting,” Bronwen answered dispassionately. She dumped her own books on the table and began systematically working through them. By the time she’d drudged through an entire hefty volume, Felix was still engrossed in his first page.

  “Have you found something?” Bronwen asked hopefully. She peered down at his open book.

  “Yes. Werewolves can grow up to ten times the size of a normal wolf. Can you believe it?”

  She blinked at him. “You already told me that.”

  “Yes, I know. But I thought you’d forgotten because you asked me what I’d found.”

  “We’re not here to read up on werewolves,” she reminded him. “We’re here to find out about the Severan.” She moved onto her next book.

  Some time later, Felix turned to the next page. “Well, there’s something I never knew.” When Bronwen didn’t react, he looked up from the book and stared at her. “Snow? Did you hear what I said?”

  “Yes.”

  “Aren’t you going to ask what it is that I didn’t know?”

  Bronwen tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, focusing on the open book in front of her. “Is it about werewolves growing to ten times the size of a normal wolf?”

  “No.” He waited several seconds for her to prompt him to continue, then carried on regardless. “According to this, a werewolf can survive on a diet of herbivore substance, but chooses to be carnivorous because of its human desire to hunt—”

  “Felix,” Bronwen interrupted. “We’re meant to be looking for the Severan.”

  “That’s what I’m doing.”

  “Well, it seems to me like you’re still reading about werewolves.”

  “Whatever gave you that idea?” he said mockingly.

  “Felix, you need to take this seriously.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Life isn’t about taking things seriously. In fact, I think you could do with a little less serious, and a little more…”

  Bronwen glared at him. “Go on. Finish your sentence.”

  “A little more me,” he said, then grinned. “I have a rather dreadful existence, but do you ever hear me complaining?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s right,” he said, disregarding her answer, “no you don’t. Try being a little less like you, and a little more like me.”

  She snorted. “You mean messy and bossy?”

  “And charming and noble…”

  “And arrogant and egotistical?”

  Felix laughed in good humour. “Yes, I’m all those things and more. And don’t you adore me for it?” His eyes glinted as he waited for her response.

  “No,” Bronwen grumbled, returning her attention to her book. “We’ve got a lot to get through.” She gestured to the stack of volumes on the table. “Help me.”

  He smirked.

  They continued with their task for the majority of the morning. And yet the more time that passed, the less they seemed to achieve. It was beginning to feel like they’d never get anywhere when Felix slid his book across the table, angling it in Bronwen’s line of vision.

  “I’m famous!” he declared.

  She peered down at the page. “The Dragon’s Gift,” she read.

  Felix took the book back and began reading out loud. “According to ancient folklore,” he began, then paused and smiled shrewdly at Bronwen. “Ancient? I’m ancient now?” Bronwen grinned and he read on. “According to ancient folklore, a dragon was slain in the Cynon Hills by three gallant warriors. As a reward for their honour and bravery, each man was permitted to take one piece of the dragon’s remains.”

  Bronwen wrinkled her nose. “Gross.”

  “The first took a tooth,” Felix went on, “the sharpest and luckiest weapon a man could ever possess. The second took a swab of saliva, rumoured to heal any ailment. The final warrior took a vial of blood, said to hold the key to eternal life. However, their gifts were never enjoyed, as the men were slain in their beds that very night and the rewards were stolen.” Felix glanced at Bronwen. “Yeah, and we all know where the blood ended up. I’d hazard a guess to say it landed in a pair of not-so-honourable hands.”

  “Margo Bates,” Bronwen guessed.

  Felix winced. “That name is a thorn in my side.”

  “So does it say anything about the cure?”

  “No. We were cursed by Margo’s spell, and she said the cure would die with her…” he trailed off, lost in his own thoughts.

  “Maybe not,” said Bronwen. “Maybe it’s got something to do with the dragon’s saliva. It did say that it could cure any ailment.”

  “I’m not sure if eternal life counts as an ailment,” Felix mused.

  “Well, dragon’s saliva isn’t your standard over-the-counter medicine, either,” Bronwen pointed out. She leaned in to scan the page. Suddenly intimately close, she caught a rush of Felix’s scent. Her head began to spin, and she felt him bristle beside her. And then the click of high heeled shoes brought them both back to reality.

  Bronwen sat back in her seat and glanced over her shoulder. One of the students from downstairs had emerged from the staircase and was heading in their direction. Her platinum blonde hair was swept to the side, and long, slim legs sprouted from her smock dress like two bronzed stilts.

  Bronwen felt a familiar pang of jealously.

  The girl flipped her hair and pranced to the table with a confident stride.

  Why is she coming over here? Bronwen thought irritably.

  The girl stopped in front of Felix. She placed one hand on the desk and leaned forward, causing the neckline of her dress to slide down an inch.

  Bronwen rolled her eyes. Yeah. Real classy.

  In her free hand the girl held a folded piece of notebook paper. She trapped it between her first two fingers and waved it back and forth. Bubblegum pink nail polish glistened under the florescent library lighting.

  “This is for you,” she purred.

  Felix looked up from his book. Somewhat warily, he took the note.

  Bronwen’s heart thumped a little harder. And a little more painfully.

  “I’m Catya,” the girl introduced herself, looking only at Felix.

  He stared at the folded paper, then at her. “Right,” he said slowly.

  “Have you got a name?” she prompted. The sound of her flirtatious giggle made Bronwen’s blood boil.

  Felix blinked at her. “Uh… Igor,” he replied.

  Catya flipped her hair again, sending flaxen spirals tumbling over her shoulder. Her freshly glossed lips curved up in a siren smile.

  “Igor,” Catya sounded out the word in a sultry voice. “That’s a hot name.”

  Felix frowned. “Is it?”

  She fluttered her sweeping eyelashes at him. “Sure. On you it is, anyway.”

  Evil, Bronwen fumed. Totally evil.

  Felix exhaled submissively. “Okay. Thank you. And this?” He held up the note for explanation.

  Catya winked and said in her temptress voice, “It’s what you’ve been waiting for your whole life.”

  Evil! Bronwen gritted her teeth.

  Catya turned on her heel and strutted away, wiggling her hips as she went.

  Felix unfolded the paper.

  Bronwen caught a glimpse of the curvy handwriting: Catya, 0177 33425 xxx. Her lips pressed together in a tight line. Evil!

  “This is excellent!” Felix exclaimed. “It’s a number!”

  “I hate you, Felix,” Bronwen snapped. “You’re a pig, and I hate you!”

  For a moment he seemed tak
en aback, but then he waved his hand casually. “Oh, don’t start, Snow. Not when we’re finally onto something. Look at this!” He shook the paper in front of her face. “It’s some sort of code. She must know something.”

  Bronwen pushed his hand away. “What are you talking about?”

  “That girl. You heard her. She said I’ve been waiting for this my whole life. She must know something. And this,” he said as he waved the note at Bronwen again, “is our first clue. What do you think it means? Zero, one, seven, seven…”

  Bronwen raked her hands through her hair. “It’s not a clue, Felix. It’s her number. She gave you her number.”

  “Ah ha.” Felix studied it closer. “So, she wants us to make contact with her?”

  “She wants you to make contact with her,” Bronwen corrected.

  His brow furrowed. “About the Severan?”

  “No!”

  “Seven bells! What bee flew up your bonnet?” he asked. “Or are you just generally bad tempered today?”

  Bronwen stared down at her book. “We’re not here to find dates. We’re here to work.”

  A spark of recognition lit up Felix’s eyes as everything became clear. “Oh,” he said. “I see.” He smiled and, to Bronwen’s dismay, he somehow looked more handsome than ever. “Don’t tell me you’re threatened?”

  “Of course I’m not! You’re welcome to her.”

  “Don’t be like that,” he teased. “There’s enough of me to go around.”

  Bronwen gagged. “Can we get back to work please?” She tapped on his open page.

  They read in silence for a while before Felix spoke again.

  “Hey, Snow?” he said.

  “What?”

  “Do you think I make the name Igor hot?”

  “No,” Bronwen replied without looking up from her page.

  Felix grinned and returned to his book. Some minutes passed before the silence was broken again. This time, the matter wasn’t quite so off topic.

  “The Severan,” Felix murmured.

  Bronwen looked up. “Have you found something?”

  “This is it,” he muttered, hastily scanning the page.

  “What does it say?” she pressed, trying to peer over his shoulder.

  “Well, it’s not a low-level hunter. Although that was already fairly obvious,” he remarked. “In here they describe it as a…” he trailed off.

  “A what?”

  Felix’s shoulders tensed. He stared at the page, then cursed under his breath.

  “What’s wrong?” Bronwen implored him.

  “Nothing,” he said, abruptly remembering himself. “Sorry, nothing. It’s still a hunter, just not the type of hunter we’d been expecting.”

  “So, what does that mean?”

  “Well, it seems our friend the Severan is more like a hell hound—”

  “Oh, great!” Bronwen exclaimed. “I’ve got a hell hound after me?”

  “Hey, I don’t know why you’re complaining—I’m the one who’s got to fight the bloody thing.”

  Bronwen let out a puff of air. “Read on.”

  “The Severan is a dark warrior, only vanquished by a silver bullet through the heart…” He glanced up. “How original.”

  “Wait, there’s more.” Bronwen took over the reading. “The bullet used must be from a Piriot B14. What’s a Piriot B14?”

  Felix rubbed his brow. “A Piriot is a type of launcher used on supernatural beings. Actually I’ve acquired a few in my time, hoping they’d bump me off. No luck.”

  “Do you still have them?”

  “Probably. If so they’ll be in the weapons room at the castle. Whether or not I’ll have the B14 model, I can’t be sure.”

  Bronwen frowned at him. “You’ve got a weapons room but you don’t have a bedroom?”

  “We’ve got bedrooms, we just don’t have beds.”

  Bronwen paused. “Okay,” she said, moving on, “what do you say we check out this weapons room of yours?”

  Felix grinned. “Why, Miss Snow, I thought you’d never ask.”

  They rose from their chairs. Already the small discovery had lifted the mood.

  “I’ll return these,” Bronwen said, gathering the unwanted books. Felix nodded, then slipped the one useful book under his jacket.

  “What are you doing?” Bronwen asked.

  “Taking it. We’re probably going to need it.”

  “It’s a library. You don’t have to steal it. They’ll let you borrow it.”

  “Borrow it? In exchange for what?”

  Bronwen shrugged. “A library card.”

  “Oh.” He tucked the book under his arm. “Then please remind me to send them a card.”

  “No, Felix,” Bronwen laughed. “You don’t have to send them a card.”

  He raised a quizzical eyebrow.

  “Never mind,” Bronwen told him, good-naturedly. “Just let me handle it, okay?”

  As they headed towards the staircase, Bronwen glanced back at the table. The only thing that remained was the folded scrap of paper.

  “You’re not going to take Catya’s number?” she asked, trying to sound blasé.

  “Whatever for?”

  “I don’t know. She obviously liked you.”

  “No. I’m not interested.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, I’m already taken.”

  Bronwen’s heart skipped a beat. “Alistair and Loki?” she joked.

  Felix smiled and took her hand.

  Chapter Nine

  Ammunition

  Bronwen and Felix arrived at Ada’s cottage shortly before midday. They let themselves in through the back gate and found Ada in the garden pegging out laundry.

  “Oh, Bronwen!” she gasped, tearing up at the sight of her granddaughter. She let the damp linen fall to the grass and flung her arms around Bronwen.

  Felix frowned at the underwear hanging from the line.

  “Is it over?” Ada asked, releasing Bronwen and looking expectantly between the two newcomers. “Is the Severan gone?”

  Bronwen shook her head. “No. But—”

  “You could have warned us that the Severan is a hell hound!” Felix jumped in.

  “I… I didn’t know,” Ada stuttered. “I only know what my dreams show me.” She seemed to be gazing through Felix, unwilling to meet his eyes.

  “How convenient,” Felix replied darkly. “For you.”

  “It’s not my grandmother’s fault,” Bronwen reasoned with him. “She’s told you everything she knows.”

  “Everything?” Felix challenged.

  Ada knotted her hands together and nodded.

  Felix lowered his gaze. “Right,” he said. “If you’re quite sure you’ve left nothing out…?” His eyes flickered up to hers. “Nothing at all that might have slipped your mind…?”

  “I’ve told you everything I know,” Ada repeated.

  Felix sighed.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” Ada suggested. “A cup of tea, perhaps?” She didn’t hang around for a response, but instead hastily made her way indoors.

  Bronwen looked at Felix and lifted her hands helplessly before following Ada inside. Felix trailed behind, sighing again to show his displeasure.

  Ada led them through the kitchen to a small adjacent living room. Felix dumped the library book on the coffee table and took a seat on a patchwork armchair, looking utterly annoyed by it—not to mention far too big for it.

  When Ada disappeared back into the kitchen, Bronwen took a seat on the sofa opposite Felix.

  “Don’t be mad at her,” she whispered to him. “It’s not her fault.”

  He narrowed his eyes.

  Bronwen rubbed her brow. “Can’t you at least try to be polite?”

  His lips pressed together stubbornly.

  “So you’re not speaking now?” Bronwen guessed.

  “I have nothing polite to say.”

  Bronwen rolled her eyes. “Fine,” she muttered, standing up and heading back into the kitchen. “Sulk
if you want.”

  As the adjoining door shut on Felix, Bronwen found Ada preparing the tea. Her frail hands were wrapped around a plastic milk bottle as she poured the milk into three awaiting cups.

  “Are you okay?” Bronwen asked softly.

  Ada turned, her hazel eyes misted with tears. “Perhaps I was wrong to send you to him,” she murmured.

  “It’s okay, really,” Bronwen assured her. “Felix is not so bad… once you get to know him.” And learn to ignore half the things he says, she added silently.

  “He’s kind to you?”

  Bronwen nodded. “I trust him.”

  “So I was right to barter with him? I had no choice,” she said guiltily.

  “You did the right thing,” Bronwen told her. She stared at Ada for a long moment. She knew that face so well. After all, Ada had raised her from a baby. They knew everything there was to know about one another. Or so Bronwen had thought until recently.

  She lowered her voice. “About the cure…” she began. “It is real, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. It’s real.”

  “Is it the dragon’s saliva?” Bronwen pressed, her voice still hushed.

  Ada hesitated. She glanced over Bronwen’s shoulder, her gaze landing on the closed living room door. “There is an old remedy that was passed down to me many years ago.” She paused again, her ears pricking at every sound.

  “And you’re sure you can get it?”

  “I already have it,” Ada admitted. “I’ve been prepared for this day for quite some time.”

  Bronwen looked down at the stewing tea, watching as a splash of chalky milk swirled like a whirlpool in the dark brown liquid. Right there, in the cottage, Ada had the means to bargain for Bronwen’s life—and, with the same means, to end Felix’s. A sudden bolt of fear shot through her heart.

  Oh god, she realised, I’m going to lose him. It was the first time she’d placed it into the context of what she would lose from this arrangement. Up until then, her focus had been set on what she would gain. Staying alive, overcoming the Severan, getting home… But all at once it dawned on her that when the Severan was gone, Felix would be gone, too.

  A knot formed in her stomach. She didn’t want to lose Felix. Sure, they bickered, and at times she found him totally infuriating, but none of that seemed to matter. Bronwen cared about him; that was the bottom line.