Chapter 29 Kit #2
“Quin?” Kit asked, scared to even voice the question. Lawrence wouldn’t have shoved him out of the sun. Kit spared a glance for his arms, wincing at the ripe blisters and blackened patches.
Quin—or Lawrence—whichever of them it was, fixed Kit with a look he couldn’t decipher. Kit pressed himself up against the wall, trying to leverage himself up, but failing. Matthew moved in front of him, his form transparent enough for Kit to see through.
Quin fell to his hands and knees, fingers digging into the wood floor. When Quin’s neck rolled and faced Kit, he resembled the beast he turned into, teeth bared in a grimace, dark hair falling over his face in a tangle. Kit braced himself for an ambush, but Quin’s battle stayed internal.
Kit closed his eyes for a second. He didn’t have much fight left in him, not if Lawrence prevailed.
Kit wasn’t even supposed to be awake during the day.
The mere presence of the sun seemed to sap his energy.
Everything in him urged him to go to ground, and his fangs throbbed. He’d need blood, and soon.
A sob rose in his throat as he wondered if he would ever heal.
Kit had been powerless in his life many times before. This time, however, he was not only unable to help himself, but he couldn’t help Quin.
“Kit.” Quin spoke through gritted teeth. “You gotta go somewhere. Run away. Hide. I don’t think I can hold him.”
“Where? The sun’s still not down. And I’m not leaving the others.” He wouldn’t do that to Shaun, especially.
Not again.
Quin spat blood out onto the floor.
Kit’s stomach twisted. “What was that?”
“He made me bite my tongue, the prick.” Quin’s head shook spasmodically, a dozen expressions crossing his face in a second.
“You can fight him off, Quin. I know you can.” Kit swallowed around a lump in his throat. “You’ll do it for us.”
“For you, baby boy. I’d do you anything for you.”
Kit flinched as Quin let out an animalistic roar.
If Kit didn’t know better, he’d have expected to see a wolf in Quin’s place.
But, no. The cry of frustration that came after was very human.
With a sudden burst of movement, Quin flung himself against the wall opposite Kit.
He slid down it, coming to rest on the floor until they were in twin slumped positions.
Matthew and Thomas hovered between them, silent as ever, but watching every movement with close scrutiny.
“He’s raging inside my head,” Quin said, panting. “But I’ve got him.”
“You’re stronger than him.”
Quin winced. “I’m not. I’m the weakest in this house.”
Kit frowned. “Physicality aside, you’re not weak.”
“I’m barely holding onto my own mind right now.”
“Lawrence murdered the rest of us. You’re the only one who’s faced him and lived,” Kit pointed out.
Quin grimaced. “That’s a horrible way to look at it.”
“It’s the truth,” Kit said with a painful shrug.
“I just…I had to stop him from hurting you anymore.”
Kit managed a faint smile. “My big protective werewolf Daddy.”
Quin sighed. “You need to knock me out. He’s locked down for now, but he might break through again.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Kit. Baby boy. I don’t want you to either, but my head’s going to explode. Do me this favour, yeah? Otherwise, I’m gonna have to bash it against the wall and take care of it myself.”
The pain of getting to his feet made him want to collapse right back down, but Kit couldn’t let Quin do himself any more damage. He staggered over, avoiding the light, and put one hand around Quin’s neck. “This better be the last time. All these knockouts can’t be good for your brain.”
“Well, it’s a lucky thing that I’ll be living forever with you,” Quin said. “Now, Kit. Do it. He’s not giving up.”
Kit did as he was told, exerting enough pressure to have Quin out in a matter of seconds.
Kit held Quin’s gaze even as Quin’s body fought.
Right before his eyes slid shut, Kit noticed a slight shift in their colour.
It made a shiver crawl up his spine, even though he knew Quin was unconscious and Lawrence couldn’t touch him.
Too drained to do much else, Kit sat down in the hallway, leaning hard against the wall.
He inspected the bubbled and marred flesh of his arms. Only once before had he experienced the sun as a vampire, having checked with a finger to ensure that Lawrence wasn’t lying to him about its effects.
The blinding pain had convinced him of the truth of Lawrence’s words.
It’d been nothing compared to the agony of these rays hitting his arms. Kit was lucky it hadn’t got his exposed legs or, he shuddered to think of it, his face.
He just hoped he wouldn’t have to meet the sun ever again.
As Kit sat and waited for nightfall, Matthew drifted over to him, the pale outlines of his brows creased. Kit assumed the silent boy was trying to ask about Jack until Matthew gestured at his own arms, then pointed to Kit.
“Oh,” Kit whispered. “It’s not too bad.”
Matthew looked disbelieving, and Thomas frowned down at Kit.
“If you want Jack, I’m not sure where he is,” Kit said. The trace of the boy lingered in his mind like a half-forgotten thought. The brothers conducted a silent conversation between themselves before facing Kit once more.
Thomas moved towards him, and Kit had to fight the urge to retreat in the face of the advancing ghost. The ghost boy lowered himself halfway through the floorboards, until he hovered in front of Kit, staring right into his eyes.
Despite the lack of definition to Thomas’s form, his intense gaze transfixed Kit. He had little skill in lip reading, but he could tell what Thomas mouthed when he asked silently for his younger brother.
Thomas’s desperation had Kit aching for the siblings. It made him remember how much he’d missed Nicola in those early days, and how the memories still snuck up on him even now. “Jack told me he didn’t know how to leave me,” he explained.
Thomas frowned, leaning in closer, peering into Kit’s eyes.
Kit couldn’t stand being under this level of scrutiny. “I’ll tell you if—”
I’m here. Hearing Jack whisper in his head was a strange experience in an evening full of strange experiences.
“Oh,” Kit said. “He’s here.”
Thomas smiled encouragingly and nodded.
“Any idea yet of how to get back into your ghosty body, Jack?” Kit asked aloud, for Thomas’s benefit.
Hold on.
Pressure grew in Kit’s chest. He looked down to see fingertips emerge from the centre of his torso, followed by hands. It was…disconcerting, to say the least, watching the rest of Jack squeeze himself out of his body.
“Jack, I beg you. For the love of all that’s holy, please never ever do that to me again,” Kit said, rubbing at his sternum.
Jack gave him a surprisingly jaunty salute, then asked, “How long till sundown?”
“An hour or so,” Kit said, going by his inner body clock.
“We’ll stay with you until then,” Jack said.
Kit’s eyelids threatened to flutter shut, but he forced them open. He needed to keep watch over Quin.
True to Jack’s word, the ghosts kept him company in the hallway with him until the sun went down. Jack spoke a little, telling Kit about their lives before Lawrence took them. Exhaustion dragged at Kit, but he committed every tidbit of information to memory.
Just before the sun went down, Jack floated higher into the air. “We’ll be leaving soon,” he said.
Kit blinked. “What do you mean?”
“We can rest, knowing he can do no more harm to others.”
That brought tears to Kit’s eyes. “Do you want to rest?”
“The last thing Thomas ever said was that he’d see our creator suffer for his crimes. Once that’s happened, we can let go.”
Kit locked eyes with Thomas, who nodded his agreement. “I thought you might have wanted to…I don’t know, come with us?”
Matthew shook his head, and Jack answered for them all. “We’ve been in this state for a hundred years. It’s not much of a life.”
“I’m sorry. So, so sorry.”
Jack gave Kit a small smile. “Don’t be.”
A tear escaped Kit’s eye, and he wiped it away as he sniffled. “I can’t believe you’re making me feel more emotions. I’ve had quite enough of them already.”
Jack laughed, and Thomas looked amused. “We’re going to go back to the manor. Say goodbye to the others for us,” Jack said.
“I will. And thank you. We’d all have been burnt to a crisp if you hadn’t helped. You’re a hero.”
“I like the sound of that. Farewell, Kit.”
Before he could do much more than wave, the three ghost boys vanished. Kit let himself slump against the wall, willing the bereft feeling to leave him. He sensed when the sun dipped below the horizon, as the insistent pull to fall asleep faded.
DJ wandered out of the bedroom, clad in only a tiny pair of boxers, scrubbing his eyes. He glanced at the carnage laid out before him and sniffed. “Is that petrol?”
Kit nodded.
“Damn. The cleaning fees for this place are gonna be through the roof.”
Kit burst into peals of laughter, his entire body shaking. Rake and Shaun appeared behind DJ, equally bare. Shaun looked alarmed, and Rake had his usual serious expression on his face.
“What the hell happened?” Shaun asked.
Rake responded. “Lawrence, I presume.” His gaze slid to Quin. “Is there a way to keep him unconscious until we get back up north? The ring clearly isn’t working.”
“The ring’s gone,” Kit said. “Can one of you put him on the bed, please? On a spare blanket, please. He’s probably a bit damp from the petrol.”
Rake did just that, lifting Quin and, with what might have been help or hindrance from DJ, took him into the room they’d been staying in.
Shaun crouched in front of Kit. “Kit, your face,” he said, his expression turning horrified. “Oh, god, your arms.” He reached out but stopped short of touching him. “Is that from the sun?”
Kit hummed in assent, leaning his head against the wall. Now that he was no longer in imminent danger, the pain was flaring up again with an insistence he couldn’t ignore.