Chapter 53
NOW
The voice seemed to come from very far away. Violet could feel herself drifting, wandering around the snowy landscape, standing at the edge of the Well, feeling the inexorable pull towards it.
One more step, one more moment and she would be part of it… but then she forced herself to turn and walk away, to come back into herself. To feel the cold, the snow, the solid arms that held her.
‘Come on.’ his voice was commanding. ‘You have to get up. You can’t stay on the ground.’
‘I don’t want to stay on the ground.’ She thought she sounded a little indignant, a little grumpy. And it was hard to form the words as her lips were so damn cold.
But he – the owner of the voice, Jake – laughed, albeit a little shakily. ‘Come on Violet. I mean it. Get up. Honestly…’ He helped her to her feet, and she stood unsteadily, leaning against him, feeling light-headed and far too sleepy as he put his arm around her. ‘Look. Hot tea. Have some.’
He thrust something towards her, and she realised it was a flask – that stainless steel one he always carried in the van, the one that had all the stickers on from the places he’d visited.
‘I’m very glad you came,’ said Violet, sipping at the hot liquid. It unfroze her mouth a bit so she felt like she could actually speak again. ‘Are you okay? And oh God – Ollie. Is he okay?’
‘I’m fine, thanks to you, Vi. I didn’t meet my demise at the claws of a black thing today, which has to be a bonus. And as for Ollie, I think he’s a bit shocked, but he’s awake. He’s over there.’
Violet looked and sure enough, Ollie was there, sitting to one side, his head between his knees. ‘Oh thank goodness. I’m so fucking pleased your itinerary was flexible today, Jake.’
‘It’s always flexible for you, Violet. And anyway, I changed my plans; perhaps because you mentioned bloody Ollie, or perhaps because I knew you might be the one who needed a rescue mission. It seems like I was right.’
‘I might have rescued you too.’
‘Yes. You did. Thank you.’
* * *
Jake tried to wrap his head around the last few minutes. His neck was sore. He had genuinely been terrified that he was going to die, choked or strangled or despatched in some hideous way by something he couldn’t see.
‘I don’t know what was going on there,’ he said, ‘but all I could hear was someone swearing at me, calling me Emory, telling me I’d be sorry and he’d see me in Hell…
then you were there. With a – dagger.’ He waved his hand in the general direction of the weapon, then dropped it, embarrassed to see that his hand was shaking. ‘I mean. What the actual?’
Violet shook her head. She was white, with a horrible green tinge, and she was pressing her lips together.
‘God, are you okay?’ He reached out and took her hand. ‘Are you going to throw up?’