Winter's Kiss (7 page)

“What can you hear?” Winter’s voice was quiet and gentle, comforting. It chased away her fear of trying and the sense that she would be stupid to think that she could hear things she couldn’t before. If Winter believed that the change had heightened her hearing, then it had.

Nika listened to the sounds of the night. When she focussed, everything became louder, until she could hear the rustling of small animals beneath the snow and the swaying of distant trees.

Her eyes opened and she looked at Winter, her anger with
him forgotten as she tried out her new senses.

“Well?” he said with a questioning look.

She closed her eyes again and tried to find something in the night that would be exciting to report.

Her heart leapt into her throat.

Her head snapped up and she stared wide-eyed at Winter.

Icy fingers of fear penetrated her soul.

“Screams.”

He turned instantly and looked past her. His eyes were as wide as hers were.

He closed his fingers around the hilt of his sword. “The village.”

Nika rounded the tree and moved as fast as she could, hobbling towards home. She made it a few pain-filled steps before Winter grabbed her. She struggled against him, convinced that he would try to stop her from going to the village. Her fight left her when he moved in front of her, pulled her arms around his neck and hooked his hands under her knees. He lifted her, giving her a piggyback.

The
protest
that had been rising to her lips fled when he began moving through the trees at a dizzying pace, each long stride carrying them a distance beyond humanly possible. He held her tight, but not as tight as she held him. Her arms locked around his neck and she pressed into him, heart racing with the fear that he was going to drop her. Trees whizzed past and her eyes grew wider by the second, reflecting her surprise and awe at how fast he could move. When she had finished her transformation, would she be able to move like this? Was this trait shared by both species, or did only vampires have this ability?

A red glow appeared on the horizon through the trees and her panic returned, obliterating her curiosity about Winter.

Fire.

Had the fire that she had smelt actually been the scent of her village burning to the ground? Her hearing filled with the sound of screams. She leaned forwards into Winter, desperate for him to move faster. Her father. She had to see her father. He had to be alive. If he were gone, she would be all alone in the world when Winter left her.

They hit the track that led to the village and Winter sprinted down the gentle slope towards it. Thick black smoke choked her lungs and made her cough. Winter seemed unaffected. She frowned when she realised that he wasn’t breathing. She really hoped that wouldn’t happen to
her.
The
thought of not breathing was frightening.

Dark shadows danced among the flames in the distance. People were alive. Relief filled her but it was short lived when another scream sliced the dense air, cutting into her heart.

“Father,” she whispered and looked at Winter. “Please, hurry.”

“I am moving as fast as I can,” he muttered and held her legs tighter as his eyes narrowed, his focus on the village.

She knew that she was asking too much of him but she had to go faster. She had to see her father, needed to know that he was alive and safe. They entered the village
and Winter
slowed down.

“Which way?” he said with a frown.

Nika squinted and blinked as the smoke made her eyes water. Every building that bordered the main square was on fire. The flames had already eaten through the several of the smaller houses near the entrance to the village, and as she stared, the tiled roof of the bakery collapsed, sending sparks shooting upwards in the darkness. The windows exploded, showering the square with glass. Everywhere was burning. Even the wooden roof and pulley system of the well in the centre of the cobbled square was on fire. The entire village had gone up in flames.

Nika looked around, trying to find a sign of life amongst the chaos, someone who might be able to call for help. The village was remote though, isolated in the woods. The chance of any of the emergency services making it here in time were so slim they probably wouldn’t even bother leaving their bases.

Her heart tightened with fear and sorrow as she watched her old life burn. The village was everything she had known, a precious place in her heart. It was always filled with the same families, all of which could trace their ancestors back through the generations that had lived in the village. Her own family had lived here for over four centuries. It was a small village of people who worked the land, and of those who created things from the crops they produced—butchers, bakers and other basic supplies. Why would someone do this to her village? There was no reason for this to have happened. The weather was wet. It couldn’t have been an accident. Even the old wooden church was on fire and that stood apart from the other buildings.

What had happened?

She looked at Winter and found he was staring at the burning buildings, his eyes reflecting the bright flames. His face was a mask of shock and he was breathing fast gasping breaths. She could feel him trembling beneath her. Something was wrong. She pushed his shoulders, trying to rouse him, but nothing happened. He continued to stare at the village, his eyes growing wider by the second and his breathing faster. She could sense something deep inside her. Panic. The fact that he was frightened only increased her fear.

Her arms tightened around him and he jerked his head towards her. Her eyes met his and the weight of confusion and surprise in them said that whatever he

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had been thinking, experiencing, he hadn’t been seeing the
village. He had been miles away. His body stopped trembling and the feelings in his eyes cleared, leaving only his usual determined look behind.

What had happened to him in those
short
moments? What had he been seeing that had
shaken
him so much? It wasn’t the sight of her village burning that had upset him. It was something else and she wanted to know. She wanted to know what pain he held in his past that could leave him so rattled and shaken.

Winter walked on a few steps and then stopped. He looked down.

“Be on your guard. This was no accident.”

Eight words that stole her voice and made her forget her curiosity about Winter’s reaction to the fire. She pulled herself up and looked over his shoulder at the ground. Lying at his feet was a woman her age. The baker’s daughter. They had grown up together. Nika swallowed. She was dead, but the fire hadn’t taken her life. Across her chest were three long grooves, deep enough to expose bone. Her torso was soaked in blood. Someone had
killed
her.

“Which way is your home?”

Winter’s voice roused her and she blindly looked at him, stunned into numbness. Her gaze shifted to the square they were standing in. She had been so focussed on the buildings that she hadn’t noticed it before. There were dead bodies everywhere. They were drenched with blood, their clothes torn and their faces contorted in horror and pain. She baulked when the scent of blood filled her senses and hid her face against Winter’s back. If she didn’t see it, perhaps it wouldn’t be real.

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Everyone was dead.

Another scream made her heart leap into her throat.

Not everyone.

She pointed towards her home and Winter ran, dodging the flames and the bodies. Her house came into view as they passed into the area of the village behind the square. Her breath left her.

The small single storey wooden house was untouched.

It stood perfect amongst the ruin.

Winter tensed. Nika followed suit when she saw what he had. Shadowy shapes disappeared into the darkness beyond the flames. Had they seen them? She prayed that they hadn’t. Whoever had done this had been strong and numerous. Winter couldn’t fight the people responsible for this butchery alone.

Who would do such a thing? Why had they attacked her village?

Her gaze roamed back to her house. Something moved on the small front garden. She grasped Winter’s shoulders when she realised that it was her father. Pushing away from Winter, she forced him to drop her and ran as fast as she could over to her house. The small rickety wooden gate gave as she pushed it and clattered onto the path. She stumbled over it, intent on getting to her father.

“Father!” Nika reached out to him, tears blinding her. Her leg gave and she hit the floor hard. Undeterred, she crawled over the ash-covered snow to him where he lay on the ground. She swallowed her desire to be sick when she saw the blood covering his face and the long gashes in his clothes, and grabbed him, pulling him into her
arms
and
cradling his
upper
body. “Father?”

Her father’s age-worn face was still and peaceful, his body limp in her arms. Short breaths escaped his parted lips, each one a little further apart, stealing her hope in pieces.

“Father?” she whispered and touched his face. It was cold. Tears rolled off her cheeks and dotted his face, cutting through the blood and ash.

Winter stopped beside her. She looked up at him, her eyebrows furrowed as she longed for him to say something to make this all better. Maybe if Winter told her that her father wouldn’t die, then he wouldn’t.

“Who did this?” she said with a glance around the village. Everything she had known was gone. All her memories erased in one violent malicious act. Why?

“The werewolves,” Winter said without a trace of emotion. Her gaze came back to him.

“If the werewolves did this then maybe my father will—”

A shake of Winter’s head stole her voice.

He knelt beside her and touched her cheek. Her eyelids dropped and she leaned into his palm, seeking comfort and an end to the pain tearing her apart inside. An end to this terrible nightmare.

“Why won’t they?” she whispered, the thought of losing everything making her numb. If her father became like her then she wouldn’t be alone. It would be less painful when Winter left.

Nika shifted against his palm and looked up at him. There was anguish in his dark eyes. For her? Because of her suffering? She could easily fool herself into believing that.

“They did not bite them.”

Nika looked down at her father and the claw marks scoring his flesh. Winter was right. There were no bite marks. The shapes she had seen hadn’t been those of wolves. They had been men. Why had they done this? Wasn’t it enough that they had taken her life? She slumped, so tired and weary. She wanted to give up, to
let
the flames consume her as they had consumed her world. She didn’t have the strength to go on, couldn’t imagine what other horrors awaited her.

Her heart leapt when her father’s eyelids rose with effort to reveal green eyes that matched her own. His bloodied lips opened and closed soundlessly several times, showing his crimson stained teeth, and he grabbed her coat and weakly pulled her towards him.

“What’s
wrong?”
she whispered, holding him gently, desperate to hear what he was trying to say.

His gaze shifted to Winter and then back again. He said something that she couldn’t make out and she leaned in closer, straining to hear. His fingers tightened around her coat collar and he stiffened as a shadow of pain crossed his face, his eyes screwing shut.

“Father!” Nika rocked him a little when his eyes didn’t open again.

With what looked like considerable effort, her father opened his eyes and gazed up at her, his hand still gripping her fiercely.

“Willem… the pact…” he said in a broken whisper. Nika brought her ear right down to his mouth so she could hear him. “Your hand… to protect the village. Willem… pact broken… because… him.”

His gaze slid to Winter.

She didn’t understand. A pact and someone called Willem.
Broken because of Winter?

“Winter?” she said and looked up at him. He shrugged, looking as confused as she felt. She turned back to her father. “What pact? Why Winter?”

The thought that her father had died because of Winter made her heart sting and anger flood her. If Winter had been responsible for the attack on her village, she didn’t know what she was going to do. When she thought about her friends that had died tonight, she wanted to fight him, wanted to make him pay and take revenge for their lost lives. For her father’s lost life.

Her father shook his head an inch to the right and back again. He coughed and a small red line of blood crept from the corner of his mouth. Nika carefully wiped it away, smiling down at him through her tears. She stroked his cheek to comfort him.

“Not Winter?” she said, a strange sense of relief filling her.

Winter knelt on the other side of her father.

“But why attack the village?” Nika fought hard to control the colliding emotions inside her—anger, sorrow, rage, fear, confusion. They all fought for control within her. With the smell of burning flesh in her nostrils and the sight of her father slipping away, she knew it wouldn’t be long before anger won and rage was victorious.