Gabriel was right. I knew in my heart of hearts that we were connected for life. It wasn't just sexual intimacy with him that I craved – although I knew from the look in his eye that when he'd promised to make me scream he had not been lying and there was a lot to look forward to. No; what really made me understand the connection between us was the revelation that I needed, wanted and couldn't bear to stop having him close to me. It was knowing that I could touch him and he would calm. It was knowing that I could touch him and I would feel reassured by the sensation rather than horrified. His muscular body, his handsome face and his glittering eyes were wonderful things but they paled into comparison with the way my heart felt when I was next to him. He made my blood sing.
I lowered my head, ran my fingers down towards his wrist and felt his pulse throb steadily against my hand. Whether it made sense or not, his heart rate did indeed match mine. Goosebumps rose along the length of my body – and I wasn't even slightly cold.
Gabriel was looking at me with an unfathomable expression on his face. His earlier anger and his shock at the news about Marrock had been replaced by understanding. He knew what I was thinking and that I'd finally realised what it meant to be his Fior Ghal. Soul mate didn't begin to cover it; those words seemed trite in comparison to the truth. I'd never truly lived until this moment. I was completely terrified – but maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.
I pulled my hand away, absorbing the sensation of loss at no longer feeling his bare skin, then I reached up and gently brushed my lips against the corner of his mouth.
Gabriel still hadn't moved a muscle, as if he were afraid to break the spell. Perhaps movement would make both of us lose all sense of decorum and logic. And we knew, without saying it aloud, that we needed logic more than ever right now. Decorum, on the other hand, could go hang itself.
Pulling back my shoulders, I turned away from him and strode towards the window. I selected the same warped pane of glass that had helped me find these rooms, leaned forward and breathed out, fogging up the glass. With the tip of my index finger I traced out a single word: Torture.
Gabriel moved behind me and wrapped an arm round my waist. With his other hand he erased the word. His breath misted the pane and he wrote his own question: Where?
It wasn't possible to see the western side of Stirling Castle from here so I wrote: Dungeon.
Gabriel nodded in understanding, moved away and poured himself a glass of Ghrashbreg's wine. I glanced at a small carriage clock on the table to check the time. I started to cross the room to look at it more closely when my feet scuffed against something on the floor. It was salt – remnants of the magical circle that Gabriel had used to bind my wraith form. I froze.
I turned and looked at him as he swirled the ruby liquid in his wineglass. I had to tell him the truth about who I was. I just didn't know how.
Gabriel raised the glass to his lips. As soon as he did so, the pieces slid into place. My mouth opened in horror and I let out a strangled yell but it was too late. I was too late. The first of the wine had slipped past Gabriel’s lips.
I ran towards him and dashed the glass from his hand before slamming my fist into his back to force him to spit out the wine. A small amount of red liquid left his mouth and he frowned at me. He still didn’t understand the lengths the goblins would go to; he still thought he was safe. I knew in my heart that the wine he'd just sipped was poisoned. Either Marrock had yielded to the torture and given us up, or this was what Ghrashbreg had planned all along when Gabriel didn’t leave Stirling as he was supposed to.
I pointed to the liquid seeping across the floor like blood. I jumped up and down like a mad woman, trying to tell Gabriel what the problem was without alerting any goblin listeners. His tanned skin was already turning pale and beads of sweat were breaking out on his brow.
I mimicked ramming a finger down my throat and he nodded grimly. He tried to make himself sick but it was already too late; I could see his thighs trembling and his muscles going into spasms as he bent over.
Whatever was in the wine was fast acting and very strong. Ghrashbreg and the other goblins would expect us both to be drinking it by now. I gave us less than quarter of an hour before they came to pick up our dead bodies. Maybe they'd fling them into the same cell as Marrock’s. Whatever.
One thing was clear: if Gabriel and I were going to escape we had to leave now, not at midnight. Given the deathly pallor of Gabriel’s skin, I didn't rate our chances.
I dragged him to the window. I’d never told him where Ange’s box of tricks was hidden and in return he’d never told me the plan for escaping from the castle. I hastily scrawled the question. Escape plan?
Gabriel raised his head. Fever was already lighting his eyes and when he tried to speak all that came out was a groan. We were screwed; even if I could stop the poison rushing through his bloodstream, we couldn’t get out of the castle unnoticed. Even if we got out of the castle unnoticed, I couldn’t stop the poison. But I had to do something.
I thought quickly. Right now, my most pressing concern was the goblins discovering what was happening and finishing what they’d started. I had to delay them from coming here in such a way that they wouldn’t get suspicious.
Gabriel groaned. His knees gave way and he collapsed against me, no longer able to support his own weight. Flooded by panic, I crouched beside him. His lips moved. Filled with hope that he knew a way out of this, I put my ear by his mouth. He had to have a plan.
‘Run.’
That was it. I pulled back in despair and stared at him; he stared back in anguish, no longer able to speak.
Run. Pah. That wasn’t a plan. I couldn’t run and carry him, not when he was like this. Gabriel clutched weakly at my arm as if insisting that I go. I gently took his hand away and helped him into a more comfortable position, with his head elevated on a cushion . He tried to grab me again, his hand flailing upwards, but he was foiled by his own body as a racking spasm jerked through him and he collapsed again.
I wasn’t a doctor and I knew only the most basic first aid. I didn’t have a clue how to help him beyond what I’d already tried. If he hadn’t swallowed the poison before I’d stopped him, simply tasting it had done enough for it to enter his body. I cradled his head in my lap, gently opening his jaw so I could peer inside. His tongue was swollen and blue. It was a wonder he could breathe.
I racked my brains. Delay the goblins and stop the poison. There had to be a way – I wasn’t going to give up now. Then my eyes widened and suddenly I knew what to do. Carefully returning Gabriel’s head to the cushion, I stood up. Determination flooded through me.
I grabbed one of the high-backed chairs, dragged it to the main door and propped it under the handle. It would only hold back an unwanted visitor for a minute or two but a single minute could mean the difference between my life and death. Between Gabriel’s life and death.
I darted back to the window and tried to open it. The catch snagged. Unwilling to waste any more time, I grabbed a candlestick and smashed the glass.
From the floor, Gabriel moaned again.
‘Everything will be fine,’ I said. ‘I’ve got this.’ Maybe.
Chapter Eighteen
Much as I wanted to stay behind with Gabriel and make sure he was all right, I couldn't. I didn't dare look at him as I separated my shadow and left my shell next to his pain-wracked body; I didn't want to know if he'd noticed what I’d just done. He certainly gave no indication that he'd suddenly realised I was a wraith.
I burst through the broken window pane, making sure to keep one edge of my shadow along the side of the castle so that I didn't lose momentum. Pausing only for a second to get my bearings, I slid down the wall until I reached an open window that led into the floor that I needed.
The last time I’d sneaked along these corridors as a wraith, they'd been almost deserted and I was praying that they still would be. But considering that Ghrashbreg had sent lethal poison to the government’s Envoy, I wasn't convinced that
I could count on that sort of solitude. Ghrashbreg and the other Filits were probably dancing around the castle corridors, gleefully anticipating our deaths. Rather than holding me back, that thought spurred me on.
I flitted from wall to wall, bouncing between the shadows so that I spent as little time in the light as possible. Harsh voices drifted out from beyond the corridor but I didn't try to listen to what was being said; my focus was on the closed door at the end of the corridor. I bloody hoped this would work.
I reached the last of the flaming torches that were hooked high on the wall, came to a sliding stop and concentrated on my shadow. This was the most dangerous part. I squeezed my eyes shut and pictured my hand in front of me before flexing my fingers and testing my grip. When I thought I had it, I opened my eyes to look at the torch. With my heart in my mouth, I stretched until my shadowy hand covered its conical wooden base. With slow deliberate movements, I lifted it up and pulled it free from its wall bracket.
It was so heavy that I knew I couldn’t hold it for long. Shadows, even sentient wraith shadows, aren’t built for lifting physical objects. I had no idea whether it was down to physics or magic but a flaming torch was more than a match for me. As I felt it already begin to slip from my grasp, I turned towards the closed door and concentrated even harder. By myself, I could have slipped underneath the gap at the bottom but I had to bring the torch with me, and that meant forcing open the door.
If shadows could sweat, I would have been dripping wet. Gripping the torch tightly, I used my free hand to turn the doorknob whilst slamming the rest of my shadowy body against the edge of the door. Thankfully it gave way and I stumbled forward but the momentum made me lose my precarious hold on the torch. It dropped to the floor, the flames flickering and dying against the cold stone flags. Panicked, I threw myself after it and scooped it up again. The last thing I wanted was for the fire to go out.
The room was exactly the same as it was the last time I’d ventured inside it. It didn’t appear as if anyone else had been here. The same cardboard boxes lay stacked all around, with the same faint stench of old clothing lingering in the air. I opened the nearest box, double-checked the contents, then shoved it so that the old clothes, rags and bits of paper were strewn across the floor. I did the same to a second box and then a third. By the time I'd done that, the torch was sliding from my fingers again. This time I let it fall.
There was enough rubbish on the floor for my plan to work. The flames started to lick at a mothballed tartan blanket. I'd been nervous that damp might have set in and the material would not ignite. Fortunately, this entire room didn't look as if it had been used for years and its contents were drier than Sally Slate’s wit. The edges of the blanket caught light almost immediately, the fire running along the fringed edges before leaping to some pieces of paper and an old ball gown. As the romantic hopes of a wealthy socialite went up in flames, I backed away. It was imperative that I kept an eye on the fire until I was sure it was properly ablaze. I couldn't afford for it to fizzle out. I needn't have worried; there was so much junk in this room that it transformed into a mini-inferno.
Thick, dark smoke seeped out into the corridor and the orange glow from the flames leached away behind me, as if pointing towards my shadow’s only escape route. The smell of burning was strong and pervasive and I'd barely gone three metres from the room when a goblin guard came to investigate.
Her attention was caught by the flames rather than by my dark shape. Her expression quickly turned to one of horror and, while I skittered above, she threw back her head and yelled. Moments later, more goblins appeared. As they took in the situation, panic quickly escalated. Stirling Castle was made of stone but there were plenty of wooden rafters and flammable structural additions that could throw the stability of the King’s old building into doubt, not to mention the valuable items dotted around all over the place. As several of the goblins began screaming for water, I nodded grimly. The more of this the better; Gabriel needed the diversion.
With the goblins focusing on the fire rather than on the dancing shadows, I sneaked past them without difficulty. I was on the look-out for a certain grape-carrying nymph. While Ghrashbreg came storming down the corridor and the goblins finally organised themselves into getting hold of some much-needed water, I located the statue snug in its alcove where, half a lifetime ago, I had hidden my backpack.
Using the same technique I’d employed with the torch, I transformed my hand into a three-dimensional form and snagged the bag from its hiding place. The one good thing was that the bag’s shape made it easier to carry than the torch had been. I was also fortunate that the fire was growing in intensity and all eyes were focused on it. If anyone saw a shadow transporting a backpack along one of Stirling Castle’s corridors, I dreaded to think what might happen.
My energy was draining with every step but I heaved the bag up the staircase until I was outside Gabriel's door. I dropped it with a loud thump and sagged in relief. A moment later my shadow altered its shape and I slipped under the tiny gap at the foot of the door so I could return to my physical body, move the chair, open up and retrieve the bag.
Gabriel hadn’t moved an inch. His eyes were closed and his skin looked even paler but at least he was still breathing, his chest falling and rising. Harsh, guttural gasps emitted from his mouth. I should have been relieved but I felt a pained lurch deep within my heart.
‘If you die,’ I whispered, ‘I'll raze this castle to the ground.’ Then the world – and the goblins – would really know what wraiths were capable of.
I fumbled with the bag, finally opened it and pulled out the bottle from the first-aid kit. When I'd asked Marrock for the iodine I didn’t know what I would use it for. It had seemed like a sensible precaution at the time and if the wee man had been here now, if he had still been alive, I’d have kissed his lips for arranging it. At the very least.
The fact that the iodine inside the bottle was potable was a boon. I didn't know whether it would do Gabriel any good but it could hardly harm him. If this went as I hoped, the healing properties of the iodine would cancel out what the poison had done to him. It wasn't an antidote and it wouldn't work miracles but if it only halted the poison’s effects there would be hope.
‘Gabriel,’ I said softly.
All I received in response was a faint moan, barely audible over the sounds of shouting from the frantic goblins trying to put out the fire below us.
With no idea whether he could hear or understand me, I explained what I was about to do. ‘I’m going to give you something to drink, Gabriel,’ I said. ‘It probably won't taste very nice but I need you to drink it. I need you to do your best because,’ my voice dropped to a whisper, ‘I need you.’
I unscrewed the top of the iodine bottle. Should I give him a few drops or should I throw caution to the wind and dump all the contents into his mouth? Darn it. I gritted my teeth and went for it.
The liquid was almost black and more viscous than I’d expected. At first, I allowed only a tiny amount to pass his lips then I leaned back on my heels and watched him carefully. Nothing happened: he didn't rise up and proclaim himself cured but neither did he choke or cough or die. That might be the best I could hope for.
I bent forward, gave him some more and again pulled back and waited. I let the iodine drip into Gabriel's mouth until more than half the bottle had gone. For good measure, I followed it up with a couple of the old paracetemol to help with the pain.
I stared at his chest. Was it my imagination or was he finding it easier to breathe? I put my ear to his heart; its beat seemed steady, if a little weak. It would have to do – I couldn't delay the inevitable any longer.
I stood up, taking Gabriel's heavy body with me. I hooked one of his arms round my shoulders to make it easier to carry him but I still staggered under his weight. This was going to be bloody hard.
‘Gabriel,’ I murmured, ‘I need you to try and walk. One foot in front of the other. One small step at a time.’
&nbs
p; He groaned.
With forced cheerfulness, I said, ‘I'm going to take that as your version of, “Why yes, Saiya, I would be delighted to walk. What a perfect evening for a stroll. And is that a barbecue I smell?”’
He didn't say anything; he didn’t even groan. I steeled myself and shuffled towards the door, dragging Gabriel with me. ‘Come on,’ I muttered. ‘We can do this.’
The shouting from the floor below was increasing in intensity and the burning smell was growing stronger. Maybe I should have felt guilty at setting an ancient building full of extraordinary history alight but I didn’t.
Avoiding the closest staircase that led down next to the burning room, I heaved Gabriel to the stairs at the far end of the corridor. My throat was beginning to tickle. We’d barely managed a few steps when tendrils of yellow smoke snaked their way around us.
Gabriel groaned. ‘Fire,’ he muttered. ‘Not safe.’
Yeah, yeah. I tried to ignore him but he dug in his heels, refusing to go any further. I turned my head towards him, registering the pain in his normally bright eyes. ‘We have to do this,’ I said firmly. ‘The fire is at the other side of the building. We need to get out of here and you need to cooperate.’
He gazed at me for a moment as more smoke filtered upwards. Finally, he blinked in acquiescence. Thank goodness. He couldn’t do much to move himself forward but at least he was no longer resisting.
When we reached the third floor where the fire was, at first I was grateful that the smoke was thick and visibility was virtually nil. Three goblins sprinted past with wet cloths covering their faces. They were less than two metres from us but they didn’t even register our presence. My gratitude didn’t last long. By the time they had disappeared into the corridor, my eyes were streaming and my lungs were burning. I dreaded to think what effect the smoke was having on Gabriel in his already weakened condition. I had to get him out as quickly as possible.