Old Magic(54)

‘Your relative is a complete monster.’

‘He certainly wouldn’t win any popularity awards.’ We help each other stand, our limbs stiff, and are careful to keep our clothes away from the animal dung that litters this end of the room. As the woman and her young family are not returning tonight, it seems safe to climb over the animal barricade. It’s cleaner in the other part of the room, although impossible to find relief from the stench of wet animals and their droppings.

Kate adeptly makes a bed out of the straw. ‘It’s kind of Edwina to leave us her cottage for the night.’

I follow Kate down. ‘Just wonderful.’ I burrow beneath the foul-smelling rugs and wonder what insects I’m sharing the night with. The temperature drops with the lifting of rain. It’s soon completely dark as the candles burn away to nothing. Even the animals settle into sleep. Other than the stench, there’s nothing but silence – deep and empty.

Though exhausted, I can’t sleep. I start thinking of the enormous task ahead. ‘How on earth are we going to find the person responsible for this curse?’ I ask Kate. ‘Do you still think it’s the illegitimate half-brother?’

She answers with a sleepy slur, ‘We’ll know him when we meet him, Jarrod. I’m pretty sure he’ll stand out.’

‘What about the people here in the village? They hate the Thornton name so much maybe they did the curse. We’ve only been here a few hours and already have three suspects.’

‘Hmm? What are you going on about? These poor peasants don’t have the skills to procure a curse.’

I feel her shiver and snuggle in close, seeking physical warmth. It takes all my effort to remember what I’m talking about. I shrug; Kate tugging right in under my arm is doing strange things to my senses – all of them. She burrows down so that her damp head lies on my chest, one arm wrapping snugly around my waist. In seconds she is sleeping. I can tell by her slow steady breathing.

Positioned like this, Kate lying asleep in my arms, so close, even the stink from the animals fades. I thread my fingers into Kate’s hair. Though still plaited, the coils have come apart. It feels like silk, just as I thought it would.

Sleep nears; I feel its drug-like pull, yet I fight it for as long as possible, enjoying the feel of Kate’s warm body next to mine. But it’s no good, the day with all its unbelievable events, has drained my energy.

I let myself fall into the mental peace sleep offers. Dawn, and all the challenges it brings with it, will arrive soon enough.

At least, for this moment, we’re safe.





Kate



Something wakes me. Outside, someone is moving about. It’s not quite dawn yet, though the sky is beginning to change. I stir and feel Jarrod’s warm body beside me. I move, instantly waking him, though he remains groggy for a minute. It gives me time to crawl out. God, how did we end up in that position, entangled arms and legs? My hair between his fingers?

Sitting up, I adjust my clothes. They’re a mess, just like the rest of me. I need a drink to clear the cotton in my mouth. I also need to relieve myself, but that I guess will have to wait until we’re on the road. I miss not having a mirror, comb and especially a toothbrush and have to rub my finger over my teeth.

Instinctively we both know we have to get out of the cottage before the entire village wakes and starts doing whatever it usually does at this time of morning. We learned from the man with the pigs last night where the Thorntyne family lives – on the southern peak of the headland we saw yesterday. About a morning’s walk and we should be there.

Without saying a word, in case we’re heard in the still, early dawn silence, Jarrod and I creep silently outside, round the back of the cottage, avoiding the early risers and skirting the village much in the way we came in last night. With the dawn the weather changes, giving us all the cover we need. Fog, thick and moist, rolls in from the ocean. It’s quite eerie watching it, a vaporised white sheet concealing everything it touches.

Luckily the road appears straightforward, heading in one direction, the twin peaks on the ocean edge. Still, the further we travel the thicker the surrounding woodland becomes, so we’re careful not to deviate from it, and risk getting lost. The road itself proves hard on our feet, cold as if the earth froze overnight, and slick with patches of icy mud. Our boots are not enough protection, the soles too soft. I miss my springy joggers.

We travel only a short distance when Jarrod almost walks straight into a water trough sitting on the roadside, probably used by thirsty cows or travellers’ horses.

We stare at it, trying to measure up just how desperate we are for the stuff.