32. Chapter 32
Chapter thirty-two
A stuttering, yellow light shifted toward the window of the antiquated cottage, yearning for air.
It wasn’t possible.
This can’t be possible .
Yet here it sat.
The stacked stones were overrun with black moss rather than green, the thatched roof intact from lack of exposure. No trees had been felled to make room but instead been built around them. Lux stared slack jawed at the three towering black trunks pushed through the cottage’s middle, glowing silver. Wrong, wrong, wrong.
The air weighed heavy on her body. Heavy and stagnant and hatefully cold.
She crept toward a window’s murky glass. This is the phantom’s domain, she reminded herself. Don’t do anything foolish. Like she hadn’t done ten foolish things already. Like she hadn’t stepped beyond the forest’s edge to start.
She held her breath, lifting to the tips of her toes. Enough to raise her eyes over the lip of the sill and nothing else. She could make out little inside. Nothing except a stump of a candlestick burning away atop what might be a mantle. She didn’t think anything was at home…
The candle snuffed.
And howls broke through the quiet. One by one.
The harmony chilled her blood more than any icy breeze ever could. Her skin pricked, every tiny hair standing on end, and she crouched against the cottage wall, her back scraping against the rough stone. She scoured the shadows, focusing on those pushed aside by the illuminated trees.
There wasn’t a thought to spare on what moved within the walls as shining eyes peered from around one wide trunk after another. And when those eyes gave way to foaming, dripping snouts and gnashing teeth, Lux’s mind went entirely blank—save for her focus on the blade brandished at her side, and how it could possibly find its home in a howler’s heart before its fangs found her throat.
Either way, it wouldn’t happen with her back pressed low against a wall, so she peeled off her gloves. The low growls were deep, coarse, almost unnatural, and the beasts moved forward, already reveling in her death. Pointed ears, short horns, thick chests—the creatures were more aggressive than wolves and stealthier than panthers. The odds were bleak, but Lux rose anyway, tossing the dagger from one hand to another, her gloves falling to the mossy floor. She bared her teeth right back.
When the first howler lunged, she slashed its throat.
She had told Shaw the truth that day. Death didn’t bother her. Not when necessary. Not like this.
Dark blood spurted from the next howler’s chest, its teeth leaving behind deep marks as it tore through the fabric of her forearm. Yellow eyes faded as it sunk to the ground, and Lux furiously wiped the blood onto her cloak.
“Ignore it. Ignore it.” But her thoughts went fuzzy as a single, hot droplet traveled the length of her finger and dripped onto the frozen soil at her feet.
You can do this, she thought. It’s only a few more. But her quick glance counted ten.
The creak of aged wood wrenched her attention. It forced her mind away from blood-coated fingertips and stinging pain.
The phantom stepped from around the cottage.
Lux lurched, slipping in her haste to press herself flat against the wall. The wraith shifted. It sniffed at the air, bare feet tucked into the moss and arms hung limp. Lux slunk into the deeper shadows. Away from the bodies, she crouched at the cottage’s back.
You witless idiot! She was about to be caught and fed to howlers if she stayed put. She knew it.
The snarling growls grew quiet, and Lux stared on in mystified horror as the phantom paid them little mind, as if they were simple strays, and turned its back on their fangs. Long fingers crawled from beneath the grey cloak to examine the fallen at its feet. They felt along the thick coats, pressing at their sides, until they found the mortal wounds delivered by a peculiar blade. The hooded face lifted, its gaze traveling to the exact place she’d hidden.
It wouldn’t find her there.
Lux’s pulse beat loud in her ears as she eased back from the window’s inside, and the figure swept away, set out to hunt for her amongst the trees.
Lux breathed in lungfuls of the cottage’s musty scent. Of moldering walls and a generous helping of dust. If it weren’t for the trunks of three monstrous trees glowing pale at its center, she would have been completely lost when she’d first tumbled in, giving away her hiding place by stumbling into the furniture. Even though the wrongness continued to pry at her, she was thankful for that at least.
The candle she’d glimpsed through the window had puddled wax atop a black mantle at her right. Both sat above a fractured fireplace, its insides long gone to ash, and Lux knew then, that the phantom could not feel the cold. How could it and live here? Her breaths continued to cloud as she treaded carefully across the warped floor, toward a second window, a cluttered table and chair, her arms crossed all the while lest she brush a tree.
She bit back a yelp when she tripped over something that squeaked and skittered away before she could determine exactly what she’d injured. Naturally, her mind conjured up all sorts of nasty creatures that would enjoy such an oasis hidden amongst a devouring forest. Her lip curled, and she shook herself, only for her next steps to deliver her to the rear of the cottage—and shelves upon shelves of books. Books intermixed with decanters, vials, and jars with fused lids. Her mouth relaxed in surprise.
She reached for a tiny vial as it called to her, familiar. Where had she seen it?
The window nearest her darkened for only a moment, the outside glimmer of silver light returning in a breath.
Her borrowed time had ended.
Lux dropped to yet another crouch, thighs burning as she crept along the opposite side of the trees. She passed by a rumpled bed with an unexpectedly bright quilt and a washstand before arriving once more at the door. It creaked open on ancient hinges.
The cloaked phantom floated in with soft footsteps—and Lux slipped out on silent ones.
Illuminated trees were soon lost to the deep wood, her eyes straining as one black trunk after another appeared in her path. Lux rushed, knowing that if she slowed, the next time she looked over her shoulder a howler would be staring back at her. A howler or a cloaked figure with a deadly long blade.
A jut on the forest floor appeared from nothing, catching the toe of her boot and sending her stumbling headlong into a looming tree. Lux gasped and spun, narrowly avoiding it, only for a second knot to catch her opposite foot. Her shoulder slammed into rough wood and her ankle twisted, searing hot.
Icy fingers clamped around it. Unseen nails dug into the skin of her shoulder, encircling her ankle, and Lux didn’t care any longer if she drew everything to her. She screamed.
There wouldn’t be a crow to save her now, and the sound of splintering wood echoed against the night as the tree yawned wide. The scent of rot, of death, wafted up from the darkness, so thick she could taste it, and the tree greedily sucked back what escaped. Lux flailed, her hand brushing against the blade tucked into her corset.
She drew it forth as black roots spiraled up her legs. But she didn’t use it against them. Instead, Lux sliced at the invisible fingers holding her hostage. The ones that sent streaking cold through her.
She didn’t know what she expected. Nothing, perhaps. But the five dark twigs that fell at her side were certainly not it.
The tree shuddered with fury. She could feel it as the roots loosened, and she pushed from them, falling backward into the oozing moss. Though, when that too, began to roil and shift, she shoved herself to standing and ran.
Her ankle screamed in agony. It wanted her to slow, to stop, but she couldn’t give into it. If she did, she would die. Her fingers held tight to the miraculous dagger in her hand, swiping at anything that neared.
Could the trees speak to one another? Did they know what she had done? It would certainly seem so.
The air around her trembled with a deep, pulsing anger.
Lux dodged branches and pivoted around roots, their sole intent to bury her amongst them. To punish her for the injury she’d caused. To feed on her body for eternity.
The bones of her ankle sent hot surges up her leg with every step, but it wasn’t until she saw a faint glimmer of moonlight that they gave way entirely. She screamed anew as something inside snapped. She didn’t fall but stumbled, trembling and broken from the trees and into the wet, fog-brushed grass.
Only then did she allow herself to collapse, sobbing beneath the bleak light of the moon. The pain came in massive waves, and she emptied her stomach because of it.
She rolled to her back when she was done, exhausted, her chest feeling as if it were splintering with every drawn breath. She was too tired to cry anymore. Hurting too much to crawl.
Had it been worth it? To discover the strange, glowing trees, the residence of the phantom, and the trick of her dagger? She didn’t think so.
Hot tears fell from the corners of her closed eyes as the moon fell behind shadows. She didn’t move. It was a cloud, nothing more.
Yet, this cloud was warm.
This cloud could speak.
“What the devil are you doing out here?”
Her eyes sprang open to make out Shaw’s dark gaze, his brow furrowed in either irritation or worry. She could never tell which.
“My ankle is broken. I didn’t feel like crawling.” She closed her eyes again. Let him send somebody else for her. Let him send no one at all. She would figure it out in the morning.
“Of all your ludicrous ideas, this is by far your worst. I should leave you here.”
She cried out as he lifted her, one arm at her back, another beneath her knees. Tears streamed down her face, falling against him. “I hate you.” But she let her eyelids fall, her face pressed against his warmth. She hadn’t realized she’d grown so cold.
Pressure against her ribs, there and gone.
“As if I don’t know that.”
He held her tight, keeping her legs from jostling as much as possible. Her fingers tingled, sending shooting sparks up her arms, and she burrowed closer, wrapping her hands in the thickness of his coat.
When his steady heartbeat pulsed against her ear, she suddenly had to fight to stay awake. “Where are you taking me?”
“Home. Wherever else?”
Lux didn’t move. She was too warm, her ankle a dull throb. “I can’t go home. I can’t tell Riselda what happened to me.”
She could feel him turning over what she said, thinking.
“A physician, then.”
She breathed a laugh. “If you can find one.”
Lux squinted against the lamplight, her ankle swollen to twice its natural size, blackening and bare upon the table.
The physician peered at her, glancing at her foot and back again. “You fell into a sinkhole? Near the marshes? I guess it would explain why you are covered head to toe in this .”
He gestured to her person with a distasteful flourish before dark hands, callused and sure, lifted her ankle. Lux hissed. She’d never met this physician, but Shaw apparently trusted him. Though that didn’t mean much to her anymore, either.
She glared up at him, though she knew somewhere deep down, he treated her as gently as possible. “How bad is it?”
“Broken. More than once. Like you took a midnight stroll after your injury.” Deep, clever eyes studied her above half-moon spectacles, and she fought the sudden urge to shrink away.
She stared back instead, unflinching. “Wouldn’t that be absurd?”
“Indeed.” His face dipped to her arm, but when she turned it outward so he couldn’t see, a tired sigh left him. His attention returned to her ankle. He prodded a particularly sensitive spot, and she cried out, biting her lip against a sob. “I’ll have to set this before it’s bound. It will hurt plenty. I have sedatives?”
The question surprised her. He’d already deduced something about her, though Lux wasn’t sure what it was.
“No sedatives.” Never again.
“Suit yourself. You’ll want this though.” She stared at the thick strip of leather. “And don’t move.”