Chapter 25 #2
I can’t help chuckling as she passes me a mug and we clink, settling in for a long, uncomfortable night.
She passes me an oat biscuit smothered in caramel, and I dunk it in my tea, enjoying the hot crumbliness as it melts in my mouth.
There’s something that’s been nagging at me, the words Knox said right before I dashed the cup from his hand. ‘So, earlier in Gantry …’
‘The near murder of Frances?’
‘Yes, that.’ I nod, swirling a second biscuit around in my tea. ‘How did Knox work with Alden to stop the poison? I know he’s an alchemist, but …’
Tessa leans back, taking a gulp of her tea.
‘Well, it comes down to the essential principles of the magic he wields, and his particular skill with it. Knox is powerful. But it’s raw power, he hasn’t honed it enough to learn control, which I suspect is what he’s hoping to learn from Hess at Killmarth.
And I would bet anything that he and Alden have worked together before in that way.
You really weren’t taught much before you came here, were you?
’ Tessa says curiously. ‘Did you have any formal education?’
‘Let’s say I was homeschooled.’ I shrug, taking a sip of tea. ‘And magic wasn’t part of the syllabus. Anything I’ve gleaned, it’s been in my own time.’
‘Well, alchemy is the magic of transformation, as you know. A magic wielder can, to varying degrees, take a tangible or even an intangible object and change it into something else. But nothing living, that’s the catch.
If a wielder could do that, that would make it botany.
The manipulation of living matter. Plant usually, but also person and creature. ’
I think back to the Collector and his map and nod. ‘All right, so what Knox did … ?’
‘He transformed his magic into something malleable that Alden could channel and wield. He essentially created raw power and forced it into his veins, binding with Alden’s own.’
‘Alden, or rather his blood, was the conduit.’
Tessa nods. ‘We’ve certainly got an interesting cohort. But then I’ve heard you have to be pretty strong or different in some way to get through the final Ordeal.’
‘Initiation,’ I say quietly.
Tessa shuffles around in her seat and tops up her mug from the Thermos. ‘Another drop?’
‘I’m good thanks,’ I reply.
‘One thing’s for sure, I’m glad I’m not the murderer. Alden is loyal to Knox and the Locke family have a reputation for retribution.’
I suppress a shiver, downing the last of my tea.
‘Of course, if it had been you choking, I don’t think he’d have let anyone even leave that hall …’
‘I can’t imagine what you mean.’
‘Right.’ Tessa snorts. ‘I’ve noticed it since the Crucible. He can’t keep his eyes off you, or his hands—’
I say nothing.
‘So you don’t deny it then? You and Alden?’
I’m suddenly very glad of the chill on this level as warmth creeps up my throat, reaching my face.
Perhaps I can share this secret with Tessa.
Maybe I don’t have to keep this all to myself, and Knox pretty much suspects anyway.
And I like him. I’m trying to convince myself it’s just stolen moments, just comfort on the long, dark nights but I find myself thinking about him, craving him. ‘Officially, we’re nothing. Obviously.’
‘Got it.’ Tessa smiles. ‘Well unofficially, good luck.’
‘Tessa?’ Greg suddenly croaks through the door. ‘Tessa, are you there? I don’t feel so …’
Tessa bolts up, moving for the door, and places her hand on the wood. ‘I’m right here. Right here with you. Greg?’
I stand as well, silence suddenly emanating from the room beyond. ‘Greg?’
For a beat, there’s nothing. We both stand there, watching the door, and every hair on the back of my neck rises. I swallow, taking a step back. ‘Tessa, I really think you should move away—’
There’s a thump and the whole door shakes. Tessa jumps back and it’s only then I notice the revolver in her hand, glinting silver in the low light. ‘Greg? Are you all right?’
For a moment, there’s only silence. Insufferable, yawning silence. Then a growl reverberates through the door, echoing deep in my chest as the door at the end of the corridor cracks back on its hinges.
‘He’s fighting it still?’ Alden says, sweeping in with a hip flask in his fingers, swiftly followed by another hopeful. ‘We’re not too late?’
‘Frances?’ I say, standing quickly as Alden passes the hip flask to Frances, and she darts Tessa and I a furtive glance before hurrying towards the room where Greg is.
‘I’m sorry,’ she says quietly. ‘I should have come forward, I should have offered my help … After what happened in Gantry, I knew I couldn’t just stand back. Alden and Knox saved me, and I knew I had to be brave … and help Greg.’ She swallows. ‘Even if that meant you’d all hate me.’
Tessa says nothing, watching her.
‘I bit him,’ she confesses, looking at me, then away. ‘On the full moon in the Morlagh. I couldn’t resist the call of the alpha, the pull of the moon … I transformed for the first time in years, and Greg was close by. I couldn’t stop myself.’
‘You’re a werewolf ?’ I blurt, gaping.
She shrugs helplessly, pushing her blonde curls off her forehead.
‘Bitten as a child. My family kept the secret, found a fellow werewolf to coach me. They taught me how to resist, how to develop control. But that night … I was so beyond control. The heightened anxiety about the Ordeal, being in the Morlagh, the sound of beating, human hearts all gushing with blood and magic … it was too much. Greg paid the price.’
‘But … but you’re fine now. You’ve resisted …’ I say.
‘And Greg can learn it too,’ Alden says, ushering Frances towards Greg’s cell door. ‘She’s going to stay with him and administer the wolfsbane. He won’t harm her; she’s part of his pack.’
Frances pulls in a deep breath and opens the door to where Greg is, disappearing through it and closing it behind her. We hear soothing noises, a rustle as she moves around inside, then all goes quiet.
Alden runs a hand down his face and looks at Tessa and me. ‘Not much use you staying here. He’ll be all right now, with Frances’s help.’
But Tessa sinks back into the chair, features closed and troubled. ‘I have to stay. I can’t leave him.’ She swallows and looks at me. ‘You go, sleep. I think I need to do this alone.’
I hesitate, then take her hand, squeezing it. This need to be strong, to stand alone, to process, I understand it. ‘Of course. I’ll check back in the morning.’
Alden and I walk back up to the ground floor of Fetlock and I turn to him before we step through into the frosty courtyard. ‘Two werewolves.’
‘It’s not enough,’ he says, staring at the many windows surrounding the courtyard. ‘Whoever the murderer is, they wanted to remove the most powerful hopeful in our cohort.’
‘And Knox showing up midway through the Ordeals really threw off their game plan.’ I sigh, rubbing my eyes.
The sky is now a haze of rose pink and violet, soft clouds scudding into the distance.
And above us, already risen, the pale orb of a full moon, like a milky eye watching over Killmarth.
With Initiation tomorrow, the cold one slipping through in the last Ordeal and the Collector himself breaching the wards to talk to me, to tell me I will not survive …
I barely know what to believe. All I know is that the Ordeals have changed me, tested me.
And there’s something Tessa said, something needling me. Something I can no longer ignore or brush aside. ‘You go back to Hope. I need … I just …’
His fingers tip up my chin and I look up at him. My heart leaps as I find his eyes, calm and steady, and full of trust. ‘Are you all right?’
I clear my frown and nod. ‘Just something I need to do.’
His eyes bore into my own and I reach up, running my fingers over his cheekbone, down to his jaw.
He dips his head to mine and kisses me, soft and lingering, the kind of kiss I can sink into for eternity.
I reach my fingers up to his hair, feel his arms come around me, the contrast of his warmth and the bite of night-time chill weaving patterns of flame and ice over my skin.
I sigh, melting into him, wanting to return with him to Hope, wanting to spend the night tangled up with him.
But I pull away, knowing it’ll have to wait. He searches my face, eyes molten tonight, twin pools of fire to ward off the cold and the dark. He brings my right hand up to his lips and kisses my fingertips before releasing me. ‘See you in a bit.’
I watch him go then walk to the edge of the island. Standing on the clifftop, where the sea rushes over the rocks, seeking fingers clawing at the cliffs, I ask myself the question I’ve been avoiding. The one I can no longer ignore. Will I survive the final Ordeal?