Bourn’s Edge (27 page)

Helplessly she trailed her captor along the High Street, weaving in and out of pedestrians moving at a snail’s pace and oblivious to her presence. She saw Dewi gazing into a shop window, but couldn’t shout let alone raise an arm to flag him down. She was forced to walk on, thoughts whirling.

My regulars will notice I’m gone. But how long will it take them to get help? And how will anyone know where to look for me?
Which brought her to her next question
. Where is he taking me?

As if in answer, they turned onto a public footpath, of whose existence Cassie had been unaware. A signpost shaped liked a pointing finger read “To the Nine Sisters.”

The stone circle
.

Her stomach lurched as unwelcome images surfaced of crazed figures dancing round a bloodstained altar on Midsummer’s Eve. What could he hope to achieve by sacrificing her? Was he angry that another Fae had tampered with his spell? If so, why had he targeted her and not Tarian? Unless . . . The knowledge that he must be aware of Cassie’s relationship with Tarian disturbed her.

They left the village behind and headed towards the stone circle, the gradient steepening, the path growing narrower as they climbed. Soon Cassie’s calf muscles were burning and sweat beaded her upper lip and trickled between her shoulder blades. She felt aggrieved that they had to do this the hard way.
Why can’t he just conjure up a flock of eagles to carry us there?

At last the gradient lessened, and the Nine Sisters came into view. Cassie’s relief at reaching their destination was mixed with apprehension.

Her abductor entered the ring of stones, which wasn’t as large as she had expected, and waited for Cassie to join him. “Sit.” He pointed to one of the standing stones. Her legs carried her up the slight incline and sat her down in front of it.

A click of his fingers returned control of her limbs, and she saw the moment when time snapped back to normal—a clump of pink flower heads bobbed and swayed, and a bluebottle lifted noisily from a pile of fresh rabbit droppings. She sagged back against the lichen-covered stone, worn by time and the elements.

He began to pace round the perimeter, stopping now and then to close his eyes. Once, his nostrils flared. Cassie wondered what he was doing.

In other circumstances she might have been content to be up here. It was a pleasant day, and the stones had muted the busy hum of traffic so she could hear birdsong and a magpie chattering nearby. A sparrow hawk surfing the thermals above let out a fierce cry, and a welcome breeze sprang up, drying her sweat and fluttering strands of her hair. If she craned her neck and peered between two of the stones, she had a wonderful view across the valley. She could make out the spire of Bourn’s Edge’s church. It had never seemed so far away.

Cassie clasped her shaking hands together. The movement attracted the Fae’s attention, but his glance was incurious. He wandered back to the circle’s centre, sat down cross-legged, and made himself comfortable.

“Now,” he said, “we wait.”

TARIAN WAS TRYING to decide which frame would best suit her latest canvas when the phone rang. She went through to the sitting room and picked up the receiver.

“Yes?”

“Tarian Brangwen?” asked a man’s voice.

“Yes. Who is this?”

“Nether Hopton police station. Sgt. Wilkins speaking.”

A jolt of alarm shot through her. “How can I help you, Sergeant?”

“Is Miss Lewis there? Miss Cassie Lewis?”

“No.” Tarian glanced at the clock over the mantelpiece. “She’s at work.”

“Driving the mobile library?”

“That’s right.” A chill ran down Tarian’s spine. “Has there been an accident?”

“Not as such.” His sigh travelled down the line. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Miss Brangwen, but it looks as if Miss Lewis has gone missing.”

“Missing?”

“Her mobile library was found abandoned two hours ago. She was last seen parking it in the Raggedy Bush car park, then . . . Well, nothing.” He cleared his throat. “Those waiting for her say she vanished into thin air.”

Tarian’s mind whirled. “In broad daylight?”

“The circumstances are a little vague at present,” he admitted, sounding embarrassed. “But it’s a fact that she has gone, and my men are out searching for her.”

“I see.” Nether Hopton and the raggedy bush again. It couldn’t be a coincidence.

“Now you mustn’t worry, Miss Brangwen.”

Easier said than done
.

“Our working theory is that she’s suffering from amnesia and has wandered off.”

Tarian didn’t tell the policeman what she thought of his theory. “Should I come—?”

“Stay put,” he ordered. “We’ll let you know if there are any developments. In the meantime, Miss Lewis could be seeking familiar faces and surroundings. I know Bourn’s Edge is on the other side of the valley, but amnesia sufferers have been known to travel greater distances than that. Will you inform us at once if she should turn up? My number is . . .”

Tarian jotted it down on the writing pad. When the Sergeant had rung off, she replaced the receiver, and stared blindly out of the window.

A wet nose pushed itself into her hand, and she glanced down into anxious brown eyes. She squatted and hugged Anwar and Drysi to her, taking what comfort she could. Then she drew back with a frown. “Something feels wrong.”

Cassie’s binoculars were hanging from the coat peg in the hall. Tarian slung them round her neck, opened the front door, and stepped outside. The dogs followed her.

“Afternoon, Tarian,” shouted Mike, as Tarian strode past his garage. She gave him a distracted wave but didn’t stop to talk. News that Cassie was missing would spread via the village grapevine soon enough.

At the viewpoint a little further down the hill, which provided one of the best views across the valley, she stopped and raised the binoculars to her eyes. After five minutes’ intensive scanning, she let them drop.

“This isn’t working,” she muttered. “All it’s doing is making me dizzy.”
Think, Tarian. Think
.

She closed her eyes and gathered her strength. Then with a mental
push
, she sent her Fae senses winging their way across the valley. Minutes passed as she scanned Nether Hopton and the surrounding hillside, keeping her focus general but sensitive to the pattern in the weave of existence that was Cassie, a pattern as familiar to her as her own.

Nothing.

Tarian felt a growing sense of dread.
Suppose she’s dead
.

Something snagged her attention, and, as a falcon swoops on its prey, her senses dived towards it. The trace was far stronger than it should have been at this remove. That puzzled her until it dawned on her that something had to be amplifying it. Her eyes snapped open, and she raised her binoculars once more and trained them on the Nine Sisters.

There, among the nine standing stones—a flash of peacock blue. Hadn’t Cassie been wearing a top that colour when she left for work that morning?

Eagerly Tarian reached out with her senses again, but this time something blocked her. She knew at once what it was. Who it was.

Moon and stars!
What was Corryn doing here?

Tarian’s last encounter with this particular Fae had been at a tournament, when, as Mab’s champion, she faced him in single combat. She had won that bout, much to Corryn’s displeasure. Soon after, Mab had banished him from Faerie, or so Tarian had heard.

Of course. Where else
could
he go except to the mortal realm?
He’s been living here and up to his usual tricks—seeking amusement at others’ expense—ever since
.

It all fell into place. It was Corryn who had tampered with the raggedy bush and cloaked his presence so Tarian couldn’t sense him. And there could be only one reason for abducting Cassie and taking her to a place of Earth power that would amplify and advertise her presence.

Cursing, she hurried back up the hill. Corryn was never one to fight fair unless forced to. And since their last encounter, Mab had stripped Tarian of her immortality. But if Cassie’s life was at stake, what choice did she have?

Her hands bunched as she considered how to tip the odds back in her favour. From what she could remember, Corryn had few weaknesses. His love of malice and mischief meant not many in Faerie loved or even liked him, but on only one occasion that she knew of had he ever made a serious miscalculation. It had not been his intention, she was sure, to make Mab look foolish, but somehow he had. That was something the Queen never forgave or forgot.

Tarian missed a step as the germ of an idea came to her.
Maybe, just maybe
. . .

Squatting, she locked gazes with Drysi, while Anwar looked on and panted.

I have an urgent errand
, Tarian sent.
If you fail, it could cost Cassie dear. It could cost me dear too
. Drysi pricked her ears and whined, and Tarian patted her neck.
Now listen well. Here’s what you must do
. . .

Chapter 4

“What’s taking her so long?” said Corryn. It was just after sunset. “Perhaps she doesn’t care what happens to you after all.”

He looked at the mortal sitting with her back to one of the stones, but she didn’t react to his barb. Evidently she’d learned that her anguish and pain amused him and was refusing to cooperate. Shame. It had been fun playing with her mind, exploring her terrors—the fear of heights, of spiders, of burning, of drowning, of being crippled . . .

How many fears these mortals have
.

He tried to see what Tarian saw in such a snivelling, unattractive weakling. But perhaps the mortal felt more for Tarian than the Fae felt for her. It was interesting that her strongest reaction had been to his illusion of Tarian dying in her arms. She was a shaking, blubbering mess after that. Maybe he would try it again, to relieve the tedium.

Corryn raised his finger and pointed, but paused as a familiar presence registered. It was distant as yet, but coming closer. He let his hand drop and swung round, testing and confirming what he could feel.

“She’s coming.”

At last, a reaction. The mortal lifted her head and looked at him, eyes dull and full of misery.

So gleeful was he at the success of his plan, Corryn almost skipped to the circle’s perimeter. He hummed a few bars of a bawdy ditty once popular in Mab’s court, drummed his fingers on the hard surface of a stone, and stared out into the gathering darkness.

There. That tall figure striding up the footpath towards the circle, a wolfhound at her heels.

“I wondered if she might flee, but she hasn’t.” Corryn felt the need to explain. “After all, the last time we fought, she was as immortal as I am. But now . . .”

He threw back his head and laughed. “How does it feel to know that you’re going to be the one responsible for her death?”

The mortal said nothing but her eyes spoke volumes.

BY THE LIGHT of the slowly rising moon, Cassie watched Tarian climb towards the Nine Sisters, Anwar padding behind her. From the paint spattering her grey sweatshirt and jeans, Tarian had come straight from her studio.

Cassie’s heart was in her mouth. It had been the worst few hours of her life, but her relief that rescue was in sight warred with terror for Tarian’s safety. As Tarian stepped inside the ring of stones, Cassie struggled to her feet and lurched forward, calling out her name. Seconds later, she found herself pinned against a standing stone, head spinning, shoulder blades bruised.

“Leave her alone, Corryn.” Tarian’s voice, full of menace, carried on the night breeze. “Your fight is with me.”

“But tormenting mortals is such
fun
.” He folded the finger he had pointed at Cassie, and the pressure holding her in place vanished. She stumbled to one knee and put out a hand to steady herself. “And we must take our pleasures where we find them,” he continued. “Don’t you agree?”

Tarian’s expression became glacial. “Don’t include me in that ‘we.’”

“Oh come now. A former favourite of the Queen’s can hardly take the moral high ground.”

“I’m not that Tarian anymore.”

“Aren’t you?” He sounded sceptical.

Tarian gave an impatient flick of her hand. “Enough. You wanted my attention. You have it. Now what?”

He studied her. “You’ve gone soft.” His lip curled. “You’ve lived among mortals for too long.”

Tarian’s eyebrow arched. “Strange. Living among them doesn’t appear to have softened
you
in the slightest.”

She murmured something to Anwar, and the dog bounded across the circle to Cassie’s side. Grateful tears pricked Cassie’s eyes as he licked the back of her hand, before turning and placing himself between her and Corryn. His hackles rose, his lips drew back from his teeth, and a low warning growl issued from the back of his throat.

Corryn let out a peal of laughter. “You think a
hound
can protect her from me?”

Tarian shrugged, folded her arms, and waited.

“Very well.” He folded his arms in mocking imitation. “You asked ‘now what?’. We fight, of course.”

Tarian’s glance took in the featureless turf bounded by the stones. “With what?”

He unfolded his arms and gestured. A pile of lethal-looking swords and daggers—made of bronze rather than steel, from their colour—materialised at Tarian’s feet. “Choose.”

She regarded him for a long moment before crouching down and sorting through the pile.
No morning stars, at least
, thought Cassie, remembering Tarian’s dislike of the weapon.

Tarian selected a sword and a dagger and tried a few practice passes. “These will suit me.” She straightened and inclined her head. “Your turn.”

Corryn selected a sword and dagger, and vanished the remaining weapons with a wave of his hand. “To the death,” he said.

“But that would give you the advantage.” Tarian frowned. “As I am sure you are aware.”

“Your point?” His grin was provocative.

“Where is the honour in such an uneven match?”

“Is exchanging your life for hers,” he indicated Cassie, “uneven?” His grin widened. “Besides, who said anything about honour?”