19 AURORA
The adrenaline that kept my blood roaring through the raid is finally beginning to dissipate, leaving behind a heavy exhaustion and constant worry that settles deep into my bones.
Francois.
Sky.
These kids.
We slice through the choppy coastal waters, the yacht and searching zodiacs far behind us. But also that magnificent sea snake—the image of crimson-stained water is burned into my brain.
Lil’ Hare is still fast asleep on my lap, curled into a cold, damp, protective bundle. Her skin is icy through the silk shift she wears.
Virgin white, trimmed with lace at the collar. A sacrifice. It turns my stomach.
“Tally, give me your shirt.”
He complies, quickly stripping and passing it back. I wrap it around Lil’ Hare and hope she gets as much comfort as I do for the warmth and scent of Taliesin that’s soaked into the fabric.
Beside me, London has his long arms around Pepper and Sheena. The two little girls are wrapped in London’s embroidered cardigan, silent and staring with glassy, hollow eyes that have seen far too much.
Basil is fucking amazing. He dressed little Ricky in my yellow raincoat, and now has him in a protective one-arm hug—the other hand is still clamped tightly around the handle of the harpoon gun.
I don’t think he’ll be giving his weapon up anytime soon.
“Tally,” I call out, trying to keep my voice confident and calm, but not doing a very good job of it. “Where are we headed?”
We can’t just cruise around the channel forever.
We need to be off the water and get these kids somewhere warm and safe.
Taliesin doesn't answer immediately, so balancing Lil’ Hare, I get to my feet and slide us both into the front beside him.
His eyes are fixed forward, brow pinched tight in an anxious scowl.
He taps his knuckles against the fuel gauge on the dash.
My heart skips.
Wump-ppp.
The needle is sitting firmly in the red, hovering just above an absolute zero.
“I’m heading straight to the shore, Princess,” Tally murmurs, just loud enough for me to hear him over the engines. “I’m really fucking hoping we’re not going to crap out before we reach it.”
Yep, that’s the only thing to do. “What do you think will be waiting for us?”
He glances my way. “I’ll try and find somewhere that looks unpopulated, but we might not have a choice.
” Spinning the wheel slightly, he guides us to the dark outline of the coastal cliffs that are rising out of the mist. “I’m trying to track the scents, taking us away from fuel and industry smells. ” He looks bleak, worried.
“That’s a good idea.” I put my free hand on his arm. “You’re doing your best, Tally. That’s all you can do.”
His jaw tightens. “And what if it’s not fucking enough?”
“It will be. I know you.” I say, wrapping my arms tighter around my charge.
I tell him I know him, and I think that’s the truth, but honestly, I’m not sure.
Growing up a Drakeward Princess meant living in a constant state of second-guessing, desperately trying to decode what people wanted from me. The only person who was an easy read—was my father. And that was only because his demands were so punishingly strict, so utterly absolute.
Everyone else was a riddle I couldn't solve.
Like when I was still stupid enough to think I could work my way into my mother’s frozen heart. It was Mother’s Day. I’d picked a massive bunch of flowers from the lower gardens.
When I’d presented them to her, all she saw was a small muddy footstep I’d left on the floor of her white bedroom carpet.
She’d screeched.
Father appeared.
Not allowing me to eat was one of the regular ways to keep me in check. I had forty-eight hours of hunger pains and humiliation to realize Mother would never love me. Approve of me.
Even like me.
Not that I really knew what love was. It wasn’t something I’d experienced.
Still haven’t. I think.
Unless the feelings I have from my Quo family. Is that love?
They are the warmest best sensations I’ve ever had. From Layla and Sky’s friendship, to Tally’s protection and caring.
Even London.
Francois?
I don’t know.
All I’m sure of is that I’m entirely unequipped for whatever is happening to my heart right now.
We keep moving towards the coastline as the engine gives an ominous splutter.
Tally mutters something under his breath and lowers our speed.
As we get closer, I can make out a rocky cove.
“There.” I point to a small wooden jetty with a timber boathouse attached.
Tracking my eyes upward, I see a path leading from the jetty up to a house on the hillside.
I squint at the house, but it’s too far out to see any detail or movement. But one thing occurs to me. The sun is already almost down, and it’s so gloomy because of the thick cloud.
Wouldn’t the lights be on by now if the place was occupied?
The house stands completely dark. Please, Gods.
Cut us a fucking break.
After ten more minutes, Tally cuts the power, letting the jet boat’s momentum carry us silently toward the wooden slip. The hull bumps against the old tires lining the jetty with a soft thud.
“London?”
My faun is already leaping off the boat, taking a rope with him. He ties off the line with practiced speed.
“OK, kids, time for departure.”
Pepper and Sheena don’t respond, but Basil is already handing Ricky over to London, then immediately dropping down to the two girls, holding out his hands.
I watch as they reach out in perfect synchronicity and entwine their fingers with his. He has their trust, while we are just more adults.
And adults, in their terrible world, are devils.
“Should I gather up anything to take with us?” I ask as Tally takes Lil' Hare.
“Nah, we’ll come back to the boat if we need anything. I think for now you all should gather in the boathouse. I’ll run up the path and see if anyone’s home.”
I nod, and the next second he shifts, his beautiful wolf disappearing up the set of rocky steps.
“Come on, kids.” We crowd into the damp rickety building, the air smelling of damp wood, stagnant water, and engine oil. London gently sets Ricky down on a stack of old sails in the corner, but the moment his hands leave the little boy's body things go south.
A series of terrifying gasps rips from Ricky’s throat. It’s like he can’t breathe.
I rush towards him as the boy begins to shake violently. A seizure?
His entire body goes rigid, teeth chattering as a gray pallor washes over his face. I’ve no clue what’s happening, what I should do, so I follow my instincts and pull the boy into my arms, rocking him.
London squats beside us as Ricky doubles over, heaving and retching. Yellow bile spills from his mouth and I lean him forward so it dribbles onto the wooden floorboards.
I look at London, praying he has some answers. “What’s happening?”
“Little man could be in shock,” he murmurs.
I wrap the raincoat more firmly around Ricky, trying to keep any heat in. London strokes the little boy’s hair. “He’s freezing, Kitten, let me.”
As my faun starts warming Ricky with his body heat, Basil leaps to his feet, pulling off his torn linen shirt. “Here, give him this too.”
“Keep that on,” I bark.
We can’t have another one going down with hypothermia or whatever.
Basil scowls, then hobbles over to a corner. He comes back a minute later with a pile of old newspapers. Scrunching the sheets into balls, he hands them to the little girls. “Insulation, tuck it into your clothes.”
I don’t want to think about why this twelve year old knows about makeshift insulation. “Thanks, Basil.”
He nods stoically, and keeps crumpling paper.
Ricky’s scrawny back shudders as another wave of dry heaves leave his body. “Come on, little man, just keep breathing.”
I’m so scared right now. So fucking helpless. It feels like this boy could just slip away in my arms and I’ve no way of helping.
A low whine echoes from the doorway and I almost cry out with relief. Tally shifts back to his human form and takes in the scene for a second. “The house is empty, but alarmed. Let’s move them up there. We can at least be more comfortable in the garage.”
London blinks. “Alarmed? No probs. I love crash and smash challenges.” The next second the air shimmers and he’s back in faun-form. “I’ll run up and disable it.”
He disappears out the door without looking back.
“Crash and smash?” I ask Tally. He shrugs, picking up Lil' Hare.
Basil lets out a cough. “It’s a wonder you fuckers can exist, you haven’t a clue. Crash and smash is when you break a door or window, then you’ve got like thirty-seconds to find the alarm panel and smash it.”
I nod at the boy. “Thanks, that seems entirely London’s field of expertise. Let’s start moving.”
I have to swap Ricky for Lil’ Hare because I’m too fucking feeble to carry the boy. Basil, who is still wearing the goggles on his head, has Pepper and Sheena on their feet, giving them words of encouragement, and obviously ignoring his own pain.
London meets us when we’re half way up the stone steps. He swoops the two girls up in one movement. “Shall we trot, little peas?” he asks, before skipping away towards the house. Basil hobbles along following them, still dragging the harpoon gun.
I’m moving like an old lady. Dehydration, lack of sleep, and no food are taking their toll. Tally is behind, nudging me along, keeping me steady if I wobble.
“You’re sure this is safe?” I mutter to him as the house comes into view.
“Fuck, Rory, I really fucking hope so.”
London already has the front door open and beckons us in. “Welcome to ‘Vista View’.” He points to a carved wooden sign screwed into the wall which displays the name. “I wonder if the owners know Vista means view, so this place is called view-view?” he says to no one in particular as we enter.
Within twenty minutes, the large living room has children tucked under blankets on every sofa. We haven’t risked a fire, but the central heating is cranked high, forcing glorious hot air out of the vents.
Basil and I are in the kitchen while London tells the kids a very confusing story about some green children from a town called ‘Woolpit’.
As Tally runs the perimeter outside, and me and Basil go through the cupboards, pulling out all the shelf-stable goods. “Chocolate!” Basil whispers reverently, pulling out a unopened bar.
“Eat it,” I tell him.
“Nah, it’s for sharing.” He places it on a serving tray along with the olives, crackers, pickled asparagus, and tinned ham we found.
The kid may act tough as boots, but in truth he’s all heart.
Also rail thin and sodden through. “I’ll raid the wardrobes after this,” I tell him. “Find us all dry clothes.”
“Whatever.” He grabs the tray and takes it to the kids. London has got to the part in his story where the green children can only eat broad beans. I’m truly not sure if this is coming straight from his imagination or it’s a traditional tale.
Tally’s glowing eyes suddenly appear in the long French windows, checking on us. I give him a thumbs up and after a beat, he retreats, doing another circuit presumably.
Having him out there on patrol allows my shoulders to at least partially relax.
By the time I come back from my upstairs closet exploration of Vista View, everyone in the room is asleep, including London. Everything on the tray has been eaten apart from the pickled asparagus.
Don’t mind if I do.
The vinegar tang is absolutely fucking delicious. So is the oversized cashmere sweater I pull on. I’ve already stripped off the soaked jeggings and replaced them with a pair of yoga pants.
I leave the armfuls of clothing on the coffee table, then walk around, tucking wool blankets around each slowly thawing body.
Basil is curled up on the rug by the doorway, his small fingers still loosely locked around his weapon.
That kid.
In the silence, and with everyone settled, I finally have a moment to consider Francois again.
Fuck.
He has to be alright. Has to be.
I don’t know what I’ll do if he isn’t.