Wraith(31)

I didn’t need telling twice. I turned, almost tripping in my haste to get away. Tears of agony flared up again as I tried desperately to open the door with my broken, sweat-slicked hands. For a moment, I didn’t think I’d manage it then I got the purchase I needed and stumbled into the corridor.

‘Was that really necessary, Lord Ghrashbreg?’ a gravelly voice drawled. ‘The girl was clearly terrified and no danger to any of us. None of what we said would have made any sense to her.’

‘It doesn’t hurt to keep them in their place,’ I heard Ghrashbreg answer as the door closed behind me.

Dangerously close to fainting, I dragged myself away to relative safety. I was still alive. It was a damned miracle.





Chapter Eight


I stumbled blindly along the corridor. Right now the only thing in my head was to get as far away from Ghrashbreg and his cronies as possible. I was used to detaching myself to survive, both physically and emotionally, but the combination of pain and fear had fired my adrenaline. The almost ethereal calm, which came over me when I believed that Ghrashbreg was going to kill me, had vanished. I didn’t want to die.

Staggering forward, I came to some worn stone steps winding upwards. I had to get to the fourth floor – that was where my shadow was, though I was in no fit state to retrieve it at the moment. I needed a dark hole where I could curl up for an hour or two and lick my wounds.

Ignoring my desperate need to be reunited with my other self, I headed down to where I could be sure of finding an unoccupied room or cupboard. I needed to retrieve my bag with its precious paracetemol. Unfortunately, I was so focused on the agonising pain in my hands and the fear thrumming through my veins that I didn’t realise someone was coming towards me until it was too late.

‘Good eve… My goodness. Are you alright, miss?’

I blinked at the oddly familiar face then recognition flashed through me. I gasped, stepped backwards and lost my footing. De Florinville’s human companion leapt forward and grabbed by arm but the ground still rushed towards me. I landed on my knees with a pained ‘oomph’ before he pulled me upright again. As he did so, his fingers grazed against mine and I let out an involuntary moan of pain. He glanced down, his eyes widening in horror as he caught sight of my swollen, broken fingers. ‘What’s happened? Who did this to you?’

I shook my head in alarm, desperate to get away. ‘Please,’ I whispered.

His warm brown eyes scanned my face, worry lighting them. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said briskly. ‘I’ll help you. My name is Rymark. You’ll be safe with me.’

Taking care to avoid touching my hands again, he took hold of elbow and gently spun me round before propelling me upwards. No. Stop touching me. Let me go. I didn’t want to go up and I couldn’t bear his hand pressing against my flesh. Not to mention that Rymark’s master might believe the wraith’s shadow he had imprisoned was male but he was still a Dark Elf; if he clapped eyes on me in person, he’d surely discern the truth. If I let Rymark take me upstairs and I met de Florinville, I’d have left the lion’s den only to land in the dragon’s den.

I shivered and tried desperately to pull back but Rymark was having none of it. ‘Stop struggling,’ he soothed. ‘I won’t hurt you. I want to help.’

‘No. I have … to … go.’ It was an effort to get the words out.

‘This won’t take long. I promise.’

I ignored his entreaties and pulled away, breathing out at the freedom before spinning round once more for the stairs leading down. I’d misjudged my own current capabilities, however, and the sudden movement caused a rush of dizziness. I moaned again. This time, Rymark gave me no choice; he scooped me up in his arms and began to ascend.

Sudden nausea coursed through me while a little voice inside my head cursed loudly. How could something as simple as two broken little fingers incapacitate me so much? I writhed, trying to get away, but it was a weak effort. Some shadow warrior I was.

I mumbled something about feeling better already but Rymark didn’t seem to register what I was saying. He strode up to the fourth floor and marched straight into a suite of rooms off the staircase. The second the door closed behind us and my vision cleared so that I could look around, I knew exactly where I was.

When Gabriel de Florinville got out of his chair and loomed over us, my stomach dropped even further. I caught the briefest glimpse of my own shadow, imprisoned within the salt and candle circle, before my view was obstructed. A tiny squeak of horror escaped my lips.

‘What on earth is going on, Rymark?’ The Dark Elf’s gaze swooped over me. ‘Get her into the bedroom.’

Rymark was clearly beginning to tire but he carried me through a door and into de Florinville’s guest bedroom. He laid me gently down on the bed. The relief I felt at no longer being next to his body was extraordinary.

‘I found her on the stairs. Someone’s attacked her.’ Rymark’s mouth flattened into a grim line. ‘I think we can guess who. She’s human. The goblins have no place treating her like this – we can’t let them get away with it.’

Any second now I wasn’t going to get away with it. I gazed up from my supine position, waiting for the inevitable elven explosion.

Gabriel de Florinville, whose expression had been nothing but steely when he’d looked at my shadow self, offered me a brief, almost tender smile. ‘What’s your name?’ he asked.