Page 7 of The Ordeals
‘Dolly!’ I cry as she tries to stand, then slumps back against the wall.
I fly down the last few steps, the coppery scent so strong I haveto force down a gag. She’s got a gash, chest to stomach, her hands clutching her flesh as she struggles to breathe. There’s a high-pitched giggle from the parlour and I whip around to find a boy standing there. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, a streak of dark blood smudged across his pale features. Dolly’s blood.
‘Oops,’ he says as I open my mouth and scream.
The boy sniffs the air, dark eyes almost hollow in the low light and I realise he may not be a boy at all. His hair is … grey. Not the ashy blonde of a fair child, but the depleted colour of age. I plant my body between him and Dolly, shaking with fear and fury. ‘Get away from her.’
The boy’s head tilts to the side and he licks his lips. ‘She doesn’t taste right anyway. Weak. But you …’ He sniffs again, little fists bunching and unbunching at his sides as he exhales. ‘You smelldelicious.’
He moves faster than I can track in the narrow hallway, those hands grasping for my throat. I slash up with my switchblade, shoving him away, and he hits the floor with a gurgling sound. But he’s up on his feet a heartbeat later, coming at me again, mouth full of a snarl of teeth. I kick out, my years of training with the Collector snapping into place, and catch him in the chest. He hits the doorframe of the parlour with a sickening crunch.
‘Vicious,vicioushuman,’ he says. ‘Maybe I won’t make it quick.’
But I don’t give him a chance to come at me again as I surge forward, connecting my fist with his face. He sways, temporarily stunned, and I hook my foot around his ankles, tripping him to the ground. He grunts but I don’t stop, pinning him with a foot as Dolly cries at my back,the heart, the heart, girl!I clutch my switchblade and stab, over and over, our mingled screams shaking the very walls. It’s only when he no longer moves that I step back, tremors racking my body.
‘A monster, a fuckingmonster…’ I gasp, watching as the boy shrivels to a wizened corpse, the rest of him matching the grey, aged hair on his head before turning to dust. There are creatures in this world but surely vampires are myth, the kind that hunt and thirst for human blood …
When I turn back to Dolly, I find a mess of blood and fear.
‘No …’ I breathe, moving to her side, heart crashing against my ribs, not knowing what to do, how to save her—
‘Don’t let me die here, girl,’ she pants, reaching a sticky hand up to cup my cheek. ‘Get me to Banks.’
I don’t know how, but I drag her body from that house, back down the alleyway, leaving a bloody trail in our wake. I pull her arm over my left shoulder, clutching her to me as she moans, telling me tohurry. A low whining begins in my ears, tinny and harsh, and it’s like I’m watching what’s happening from afar, like it’s not really happening at all and this is a nightmare, a bad dream.
‘Talk to me, Dolly,’ I keep saying in her ear, my voice cracking. ‘I’ll buy you those chocolates you like. I’ll never complain about your smoking again. Shit, I’ll buy the cigarettesfor you. I’ll do anything. Just talk to me, Dolly. Stay with me,please…’
She huffs a few words, but as I drag her around the corner of the alleyway, she falls silent. Horribly silent.
I don’t stop moving until I see the motor car, then Banks, throwing open the car door, running for us. He skids to his knees and I collapse, letting Banks cradle Dolly’s head in his lap. She blinks up at him, eyes only for him, and in this quiet, hopeless place, it begins to rain. I sit beside them, sobbing quietly as Banks says over and over,I love you, don’t do this, I love you…
But there’s so much blood. A person can’t lose that much. Not even a wielder could help her now, and I can do nothing but take her cold hand in mine. Then her eyes fall on me. I have to lean in,only just catching her strained whisper. ‘He’s not … your uncle. Always … the heart.’
Before I can ask her what she means, before I can beg her not to leave me, the light in Dolly’s eyes fades away.
Banks’s head falls forward, his forehead resting against Dolly’s hair, and a deep guttural sob consumes his entire being. For the first time in my life, I see him cry. I sit back on the cobbles as the sky opens up, the rain swelling to a storm overhead. That tinny ringing in my ears is relentless and all I can do is stare at her unmoving face. Banks’s keening cry is too much to bear. It’s too real, too weak and full of anguish. I heave a breath, my heart breaking into a thousand pieces as the street runs red with a river of rain and blood.
Chapter 3
Caked Dirt
‘We have to leave, Banks. Banks?’ I say, lumbering to my feet. ‘We have to go.’
He nods, not getting up, not letting her go.
‘Banks.’
‘She was my everything.’
I close my eyes. I had never really seen it, their connection, their love. They must have hidden it for a very long time. But their regular dates, the theatre, the pictures, walks and dinners … it’s so obvious now. I swallow, a lump catching like a stone in my throat, a great sob welling in my chest, and I can barely get my words out. ‘Mine too.’
Between us, we carry Dolly to the car, bundling her body onto the back seat. The rain has plastered my hair to my face and I wipe it from my eyes, finding blood on my hands. Everything dims around me, my stomach suddenly too hot and roiling, and I double over, retching on the cobbles. Dolly is dead. She’s dead. I pull my jumper off, using the sleeve to wipe at my mouth and look up to check on Banks. He’s sitting on the back seat, door wide open to the rain, cradling her head as silent tears track down his cheeks. I can’t fall apart, not now. They both need me. I get up off the ground, stumble to the car and force myself to detach. To be calm and focused, for them. ‘I’m driving, Banks.’
He looks up at me, his eyes dull and raw and I steady myself against the car, the cold metal biting into my palm. ‘I can always drive, Miss DeWinter—’
‘I know,’ I say gently. ‘But this time, let me.’ I scrape myself together and push the passenger door closed then sink into the driver’s seat. I start up the car and drive away from these twisting alleyways in the driving rain, away from the antiques shop, far across the city until we leave it all behind, hitting woodland and fields. I don’t care if the Collector is tracking us in the car on his map. I ignore the steady pulse of pain as the silver bracelet gets heavier, the weight piling on with an insistent ache the further we travel away from the sprawl of Dinas Tar. Banks doesn’t question where we’re going, what I’m doing. It’s like he’s checked out.
We don’t say anything as I cut the engine, the deluge finally petering out. The clouds move on, leaving a sun dipping beneath the horizon, drenching us in dusky mauve light. None of this feels real. We should be back at the antiques shop. I should be discreetly packing up a few possessions, hugging Dolly one last time, telling her I love her. Telling myself that one day, I’ll see her again before I vanish into the night.
