Bloodrush (Scarlet Star Trilogy #1)

Chapter 32 - Of Criers and Cowards

'I'm almost certain of it now. Somebody is stalking the grounds, right from the pines down to the lake. I've twice seen a shiver in the shadows, and this time I think they saw me. I swear I heard a hiss before they vanished. Found the footprints too, in the snow. Definitely Fae.

Three years. Three bloody years, and now they decide to come after me. I need to protect Merion.'

6th June, 1867

Merion saw the pillar of smoke clear and stark against the looming storm. A thin streak of ash-grey, painted against bruised grey-black. His stomach had already been in his mouth. Now it practically perched on his tongue. Merion wanted to vomit, but he forced his legs to run harder, faster. He could see the first edges of orange flame between the buildings, ugly and sore against the misty night.

Merion sprinted up the rise in the road and skidded to a halt in front of the house. Flames belched from the windows on the northern side, while the south oozed smoke through every crack and seam. The front door was broken and splintered. Merion's face hung slack and aghast. Even though it had felt like a borrowed home, it was the closest thing to a home he had, and now it was going up in flame and ash.

But Merion did not have time to wallow in horror and misery. His aunt could still be in there. That blasted faerie too. The boy sprinted around the side of the house, shielding his hands from the heat, and darted for the hatch to the basement. The latch was hot, so he used his shirt sleeves to slide it aside. Smoke poured from the spaces around its hinges. Merion yanked open the doors with a cry, and a cloud of black smoke billowed forth. The young Hark retched as he tried desperately to knuckle the sting out of his eyes.

'Aunt Lilain!' he yelled, but there was no answer. Merion slid his feet over the side and pushed, landing hard on the platform stuck halfway down the shaft. He had to wriggle into the basement on his belly, choking on the thick, acrid air. All he could see was a swamp of black and orange, thick with smoke.

Merion's face met the dust, hard, and he wheezed as the air was driven from him. 'Rhin!' he shouted hoarsely.

'Merion!' came the shout, somewhere to the right, in the darkness. By the Almighty it was hot, skin-peelingly hot. Merion winced as he felt the burn on his back.

'Where are you?' he cried.

'Over here,' said a shape, tottering out of the inky shadows.

'What the hell happened?'

Rhin waved his arm back and forth and flapped his mouth like a fish, but no answer came.

Merion knelt down to grab him. Rhin batted him away and almost fell over in the process. 'Where is my aunt? Where's Lilain?'

'They took her! Serped's men! They've only just left.'

Merion must have missed them on the turn to town. He had been too fixated on the smoke. He was frozen to the spot, half-choking, half-burning, and gawping at the new world he was suddenly party to-a world where houses were ransacked and burnt; friends beaten; family kidnapped; a world filled with lies and murder; magick and mayhem. They had taken his aunt hostage, to force him to sign the contract. She would be hurt, tortured even, until he did. How could Castor behave so despicably? Merion felt the rage surging within him. He buried his chin on his chest, trying to fight the tears that were rushing to his eyes. Real men cannot be seen to cry, came the words, echoing in his head over the crackle and snap of the fire behind him.

Merion let the rage loose. He scrambled for what was left of his aunt's bookcase, ducking the flames that were licking hungrily at the walls. 'And why didn't you stop them from taking her, Rhin? Tell me that! Too busy with your train robbery?' he shouted, as he dug through the broken, blood-soaked mess that was once Lilain's proud collection.