Feeling better now that I wasn’t virtually naked, I returned to the door and listened carefully again. When nothing was immediately forthcoming, I twisted the doorknob as quietly as I could then opened the door an inch so I could peer out.
Rymark was sitting in the same chair that I’d seen de Florinville in earlier. It directly faced my trapped shadow, which he appeared to be eyeing with wary malevolence. Given that the shadow was motionless and had been for hours, that seemed fairly pointless to me but I guessed he was taking his guard duties very seriously.
Leaving the door slightly ajar, I considered what to do. In truth, I had very little choice. Sighing, I walked back to the centre of the bedroom, stopped at an antique bureau and scooped up a vase. I hefted it in my hands. It was probably priceless. Hey ho. The base was heavy enough to suit my purposes, even if the rest of it felt fragile. I held it in my right hand and scooted back to the door. Once I was in position, I closed my eyes briefly and sent my consciousness the few metres back to my shadow.
I needed Rymark to face away from the bedroom so, as soon as I felt the familiar joy of stretching into my shadow self, I twitched and turned in that direction. With both shadow hands, I pushed out towards the edge of the circle, feeling the barrier holding me in place.
Rymark let out a loud exclamation and sprang up, fear widening his eyes. ‘What are you doing?’ he yelled. ‘Stop that!’
I pushed at the barrier again. I was never going to break it – Gabriel de Florinville’s magic was far too strong for that – but I made it appear as if I were testing it for weaknesses. My actions had the intended result: Rymark strode in front of me, although he was smart enough to keep his body well away from the edge of the circle.
‘You can’t escape,’ he said. There was a nervous tremor in his voice. There was no question as to why de Florinville was the supposed hero whilst Rymark was the sidekick. I had to hand it to him though: he was putting in every effort.
I raised my hands in a jab, as if to attack. At the same moment, I yanked my consciousness away to my real body. While Rymark jerked back in an involuntary spasm, my physical self opened the bedroom door, sprang forward and smashed the vase down on the crown of his head. He groaned, momentarily freezing, and for a horrifying heartbeat I thought I’d not hit him hard enough. Then he crumpled, falling to the floor like a sack of old potatoes.
I bent over and checked his pulse. It was steady; he’d have an egg-sized lump on his noggin when he woke up but he would wake up. Maybe de Florinville would heal it for him, as he had healed my broken fingers. Just to be sure Rymark wouldn’t choke on his own tongue, I manoeuvred his body into the recovery position and began kicking away the candles and the salt.
My shadow might not be able to break out of the magic circle but my body could break in. Scant moments later, I stretched my fingertips, feeling the delighted ripple run through me as my shadow reattached itself. I jiggled around, enjoying the sensation. It was almost as glorious as de Florinville’s touch on my skin had been.
As soon as that thought flashed through my mind, I slammed it away. My shadow and I had been apart for too long; I was clearly feeling some ill-effects and I needed a few seconds to reacquaint with myself. Then I made for the door so I could get the hell out of there.
I had one foot in the corridor when I heard the voices. It was unmistakably de Florinville and Ghrashbreg. I pulled back into the room as they turned the corner. Screaming inside, I scanned around for a hiding place but there was nowhere. I headed for the only place I could think of and made it back to de Florinville’s bedroom. I was clambering inside the wardrobe while pulling the door shut behind me just as he and the goblin entered. Hell. Bloody hell.
The wardrobe door might have been closed but the bedroom door wasn’t and I had a clear line of sound to the other room.
‘I managed to find Lord Ghrashbreg along the way,’ I heard de Florinville say to his unconscious buddy. This was followed by a brief pause before the inevitable explosion. ‘Fuck!’
‘Dear me,’ Ghrashbreg commented, with what sounded like a hint of amusement. ‘It appears the wraith you were talking about has escaped. And killed your travelling companion at the same time.’
I wrinkled my nose in disgust. Idiot. Rymark most definitely wasn’t dead.
‘How the hell did it get free?’ Footsteps sounded and through the chink in the door I spotted de Florinville enter the bedroom. He stared round, his gaze falling on the bed with growing horror. He was genuinely appalled at my disappearance.
‘It’s taken her. The damn wraith has taken her.’ He balled up his fists, rage lacing his words and rippling through his body. I shrank back. The Dark Elf had been angry when he’d caught my shadow but that was nothing compared to what he looked like now.
Even Ghrashbreg, following on his heels, appeared concerned. ‘Taken who?’
‘Saiya,’ de Florinville ground out.
Ghrashbreg’s forehead furrowed at the familiar name. ‘Saiya Buchanan? The girl from the kitchen?’
De Florinville whirled round, grabbing him by his lapels. ‘You know her.’
‘I met her tonight for the first time. Skinny thing.’
De Florinville’s eyes glittered with the promise of violence. ‘Are you the one who broke her fingers?’ His grip tightened and he shook the goblin. I was enjoying this. ‘Are you the one who hurt her?’
Apparently deciding that he couldn’t lie convincingly, Ghrashbreg answered the Elf’s question with another question. ‘Where would a wraith take a human woman and why would he bother?’
De Florinville emitted a low growl. For a moment it seemed as if this could go either way and the goblin could end up in a body bag but eventually diplomacy won. With a deep snarl, de Florinville released Ghrashbreg and stalked back to the outer room out of my sight.
‘Of course, that’s if there is a wraith at all,’ the goblin called after him. ‘We have excellent defences. I don’t see how one could breach the city walls and get inside the castle without any of us realising.’ Despite his casual words, he looked worried. Ha.
There was a loud groan that could only have come from Rymark. ‘What? What happened?’
‘I was about to ask you the same thing,’ I heard de Florinville say.
‘The wraith. Shit.’
De Florinville bit out his words. ‘How did it get out? How did it escape from the circle?’
‘I don’t know. It was trying to break free and I walked over to it and then…’ Rymark’s voice trailed off. ‘I feel like I’ve been hit by a damn truck.’
‘I’m going to see that wraith strung up.’ The Dark Elf’s tone was equal measures adamant and harsh. ‘I’ve barely been gone ten minutes. They can’t have gone far. The bastard won’t be able to move quickly with Saiya in tow.’
Ghrashbreg stroked his chin and walked out of the bedroom towards them. ‘I don’t understand. Why does this girl have such significance?’
I strained to hear the answer but whatever de Florinville said was lost to me. Both he, Rymark and Ghrashbreg were leaving the suite of rooms, no doubt to search for the supposed wraith and his ‘kidnap victim’.
I breathed out. I’d miraculously managed to escape their notice. Go me.
Chapter Nine
By the time I crawled back down to the town centre, Gabriel de Florinville’s once-pristine white shirt was dirty and torn. He’d certainly done a good job of persuading Ghrashbreg to raise the alarm. It had been easier to get myself out of the castle than it was to wend my way back through the city now that patrols and search parties were all over the place. More than once I’d been forced to cower behind various piles of rubble as goblin soldiers marched past with their heavy boots scuffing the cobbled streets. The only reason I escaped detection was because I got lucky.
I didn’t dare go home. Enough people knew my name now that to head for my own bed would be tantamount to suicide. At least I had a list of potential hideouts, tucked away in the back of my mind for just such an eventuality. There were more than enough abandoned houses and blocks of flats where I could cower.
I even treated myself, sneaking into one of the upmarket buildings which had once been used by a family of Irish immigrants who’d owned a jewellers out by Mercat Cross but who had long since abandoned the dubious delights of a city under siege for their home country. Judging by the array of rubbish littering the once-gleaming parquet flooring, I wasn’t the first to hide here. But the smell lingering inside held a hint of decay so I knew I’d be alone here for a while. I took full advantage of the situation and curled up and slept in one of the smaller bedrooms. Goodness knows, I needed the rest.
When I came to, it took a while to remember where I was. Bright sunlight was filtering in from the window, making my eyes itch, and it felt as if there were several layers of dirt on my skin. My stomach grumbled loudly. It was quite some time since I’d had any food. I should have asked de Florinville for a slice of chocolate cake, I thought ruefully.
I sat up and stretched. Having my shadow back with me felt damned good and I gave it a little self-conscious wave. I also flexed my fingers. There was a brief tingle in both pinkies but, other than that, no sign that either of them had been broken. De Florinville’s magic was definitely strong.