He'd slashed the tyres of both cars with the knife he'd found hidden in his old room back at the Mission. And now he was hovering at the start of the drive, crouching in the shadows of an elm tree, his eyes fixed on Evie's room, the one buried under the eaves. The curtains were drawn but the light was on and he could make out a dark shape moving back and forth in front of the light. Lucas drew his knife and closed his eyes, trying to concentrate his hearing.
Nothing. Even blocking the sounds from the orchard and the river in the distance, he still couldn't hear any voices coming from the house. He faded and slid silently through the trees on the edge of the plot, circling the house to see if he could hear anything from the back. The lights were on in the kitchen, the back door slightly ajar.
He weighed his options. Victor and Cyrus were both strong and well trained, and Margaret's instincts were still good – she'd obviously honed them over the years, had never let her guard down. He didn't doubt they were all armed as well. He ran his hand through his hair and swore under his breath, trying to figure out his next move. Grace's words were running through his head – you won't ever be in time to save her, she'd said. Issa believed the same. It was why she'd lied to him about the prophecy. Because she had known that he would do anything in his power to stop it from coming true. Maybe they were right and it was futile – he looked up at the silent fa?ade of the house – but that wasn't going to stop him from trying.
And then he heard her – heard Evie cry out – except there was no echo and no raised voices in reply. He realised in the next instant that he hadn't heard her cry out at all – he'd felt her – felt her distress as clearly as if it was his own, sharp as a needle, bright as day. That was all it took.
He was black lightning – invisible – striking across the orchard, flying up the veranda steps and in through the back door in under two seconds. He was up the stairs in the next second, not giving them a moment to react, if they had even felt him at all.
Margaret was standing in the way, Evie just visible behind her. And behind her stood Victor. Cyrus was standing open-mouthed in the centre of the room between Victor and Evie, his arms spread wide. Lucas gauged all this in the time it took for his heart to beat just once. In the next heartbeat he had slid invisibly beneath Margaret's outstretched arm, reaching Evie in the same moment. She half turned, her mouth falling open in shock and confusion, sensing him even before the others had registered he was there.
‘Down,' he whispered, his lips brushing her ear.
Her eyes widened in understanding and she dropped to her knees, the back of her head banging his waist just as the blade left his hand. Victor let out a bellow as he saw the blade go whirling past Evie's head and finally his senses allowed him to see. He reacted fast, twisting sideways, but not fast enough, and the blade sank into the flesh of his shoulder.
Victor roared in anger, collapsing to his knees, his face contorting in pain as the blood started to spurt.
Lucas didn't pause. He bent, bringing his arm across Evie's chest and hauling her to her feet. He felt her stagger slightly against him and he clutched her tighter, dragging her backwards towards the doorway where Margaret stood blocking their way.
Lucas materialised, sliding the knife out of Evie's limp hand and into his own. He levelled it at Margaret, registering the shock that drained the blood from her face as she realised what was happening. She backed away silently, out into the hall with her hands up.
Lucas edged past her, his arm still locked around Evie and headed to the top of the stairs.
‘Don't let her get away!' he heard Margaret scream, and suddenly Cyrus was there at the top of the stairs, reaching for Evie, grabbing hold of her by the arm and trying to pull her towards him.
‘Let her go,' Lucas said, holding Evie tighter and baring his teeth at Cyrus, aware the whole time that Evie wasn't putting up a fight. Her body stayed limp in his arms.
Cyrus snarled at Lucas, his eyes flashing with anger, but then his expression shifted as he looked at Evie and without warning he let go, stepping backwards and blocking Margaret who was now standing at the top of the stairs screaming at them to stop.
Lucas didn't give Cyrus a chance to reconsider. He dived down the stairs, pulling Evie after him, and threw himself against the front door, hearing the wood splinter over the noise of Margaret's screams. He dragged Evie down the steps of the veranda and started sprinting up the driveway, feeling the slackness of her hand in his and the drag as her feet kicked up the gravel. He skidded to a stop in front of the car, having to catch Evie around the waist to bring her to a halt.
He opened the car door and ushered her in, before climbing in beside her and spinning them up onto the verge and down the road in a cloud of dust. He drove without looking back and without looking at Evie, though his hand held onto hers tightly. Ten miles down the road he finally pulled off onto a dirt track and killed the engine.
He turned to face her in the gloom of the car. After several seconds Evie slowly lifted her eyes to meet his. Her face was bleached white as a Thirster's, her eyes unblinking and huge – dead-looking. Her bottom lip was shaking slightly. She swallowed once and took a deep breath.
‘You know about the prophecy. You know what I have to do, don't you?' she asked in a voice he didn't recognise.
Lucas stared at her, feeling her words like a sound wave lashing him, knocking him back into his seat. She knew. Margaret had told her the whole prophecy. He hadn't been in time to save her from that. That's why she seemed so lost, so far from him. He kept staring at her, unable to tear his eyes away, unable to answer her either. Her shoulders were slumped. She looked as defeated as she had that time he'd seen her on the veranda of her house with Tom, the moment he'd realised his true feelings for her were as far from hate as it was possible to get.
‘You know, don't you?' she said again, this time a tremor of impatience in her voice. ‘Was it Grace? Did she tell you? Or Issa? Were you hiding it from me all this time?'
‘No,' Lucas answered, his eyes dark as storm clouds, ‘Issa didn't tell me. Grace did, earlier tonight. But it doesn't matter what she told me, none of it matters, you're not walking through the Gateway.' He brought his hand to rest against her cheek. It felt cold, even her breath against his fingertips felt icy. He turned the key in the ignition and racked the heat up full, letting it blast them, then he put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his chest. She fought him at first, her shoulders tensing, her fists coiled in her lap before his lips against her forehead undid something in her resolve and she collapsed against him, shaking. Her fingers gripped his shoulders and she took two deep breaths, each one ending in a shudder that rocked her whole body. Lucas stroked her heaving back, smoothed her hair, pulled her closer, trying to make the shivering stop. Eventually she fell still in his arms, her breathing calm.
‘It'll be OK,' he whispered.
Evie pulled back and stared at him. ‘Lucas,' she said, speaking slowly and clearly as if he was deaf, ‘I'm going to die.'
He twisted away from her, pulling his hands free and gripping the wheel tightly. ‘Don't say that.'
‘You know it's true. There's nothing you or I can do about it, Lucas.'
‘Yes there is!' He rounded on her, his voice a snarl. She shrank back in her seat and he immediately regretted his tone. ‘There is, Evie,' he said more softly. ‘We changed a prophecy once. We'll do it again.'
She shook her head, confused. ‘When? What prophecy?'
‘Grace once told me that I was going to die. In the beginning, she told me if I went back to Riverview I was going to die. But I didn't. We get to choose, Evie. We get to choose who we are and what path we take.'
He frowned hard and pressed his lips together. He wanted to smash his fists into the dashboard, pummel the steering wheel, kick his foot through the floor of the car.
It was Evie who moved this time, covering his hands with her own, pulling him gently around to face her. ‘OK, OK, Lucas,' she said. ‘If you think we can change it, let's try.'
He studied her, the breath catching in his throat. She was smiling tentatively at him though her eyes were still guarded and wary. Did she mean it? Was she really willing to try? The last time she'd been this defeated it had taken anger and betrayal to force her back into fighting mode. She leant forward and pressed her lips against his, and he closed his eyes and breathed her in – felt her skin, still cool beneath his hands. Maybe, he thought to himself as she pulled away and he caught the way her eyes lingered on his lips – maybe she didn't need anger and betrayal anymore to motivate her, maybe he was enough.
‘OK,' he finally agreed. ‘We'll figure a way around this. We'll find another way to close it. And no one is going to get hurt, I promise.'
Evie turned to stare through the windshield. ‘We should go to Flic's,' she said.
‘Flic's?' he asked, confused.
She nodded quickly and shrugged. ‘We need to go somewhere. And we need help. We can't do this alone.'
‘But Flic's?' he said, frowning at her. ‘I'm not sure that's such a good idea.' Flic had made it very clear she didn't ever want to see him again and she also despised Evie. What help was his sister going to offer them? Other than showing them the way to the Gateway and shoving Evie through it?