Rampant

“What if we don’t have time? Wouldn’t it be better to get to the source, before he does?” It sounded like madness, but the other way would leave her even more deeply mired in doubt and she didn’t want to be eaten away by fear of the unknown.

“I’ve tried to communicate with Annabel, many times, but she won’t appear for anyone but you.”

“I think she’ll appear for you, if I want her to.”

He watched the sun sinking, and she felt the mystery and the tension that slunk out during the dark hours rising in the atmosphere around Carbrey. He’d defeated them the night before, and she believed he could do it again and get them out of this. Even if his father had got his way and removed him entirely from his heritage, Grayson would be the sort of man who would stare down his enemy, who wouldn’t acknowledge barriers.

When he looked back at her, he gave her a quizzical stare. “What is it?”

She couldn’t help it. She moved closer. “I find I suddenly want to kiss you.” It wasn’t anything to do with Annabel. She was sure of that. Did he know that? Did he wonder, at times like this, like she did? The reasons they had originally been attracted to each other were far from cut and dried, but did he ever wonder, as she did, about their fundamental attraction? “It’s me, I mean…what I am trying to say is that Annabel isn’t with me right now. I want to kiss you.” She shuffled closer. “Just in case you were wondering,” she added, rather too quickly.

“I know.” He gave a wry smile, a wise, almost-sad look in his eyes.

Of course he knew. He’d always known how much she wanted him. God, that made her want him even more. She kissed him hungrily, greedy for more of him, wanting it all. He held her close, his hand cupping the back of her head, his mouth owning hers.

“It has to be done,” she whispered as they drew apart, “you know it and I know it.”

He nodded, admitting it at last.

“We must strike some kind of deal with her, before Cain succeeds. I believe in you.”

He was silent for an age, and then he pushed his hand through his hair. “If we do this, we need to be close enough to the cottage, to her anchor, but far away enough to be peripheral to Cain’s jurisdiction. He has spells set all around here. Any psychic or supernatural activity, he knows about it immediately.”

“Really?” That meant that every time she sighted Annabel, he knew. Then again, he was quite possibly the one who made it happen. She pushed back the doubts that kept niggling her. “Any ideas?”

As he looked away toward the horizon she saw his eyes gleam silver and for a moment she was adrift, because she felt as if she didn’t know him. Then he blinked, and it was gone.

“Maybe.” He lifted his hand from the steering wheel. She saw that he was pointing at the offshore island with the disused lighthouse. He put one finger against his lips.

She nodded, understanding.

24

THEY STAYED INSIDE CORNERSTONE UNTIL darkness fell. Once again Gray cooked, but this time she could barely get the food down. He paced up and down as he ate, skimming pages of the book that Maggie had given him, his eyes bright with concentration. Occasionally he would go to the windows and look out, and Zoë would see movement beyond. Members of the coven were watching, waiting.

At one point he picked up his loyal stray, Cat, and encouraged him to go out of the window at the back of the house. The cat climbed through the window eagerly and just before Gray shut the window, Zoë was sure she heard a roar from the garden beyond, followed by a high-pitched squeal.

Gray smiled to himself as he went about his business.

It didn’t faze Zoë. She was beginning to take these things in her stride. Either that or she was just so numb that these strange goings-on barely touched her, things that would have freaked her out under normal circumstances. She’d walked into the twilight zone, but now she trusted Gray to guide her the rest of the way through it.

“Okay,” he said. “It’s dark enough. Are you ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” She pulled on the sweater he had given her, a long loose-knit in black. It went all the way down to her midthighs, which made her smile. He was dressed in dark colors as well, and he had a black backpack with him.

Before they stepped outside, he paused in the hallway and chanted again in that strange language, his eyelids low, and his expression trancelike. The nerve endings all over her body tingled, and she watched, wide-eyed, as his image shimmered and seemed to fade into the background before her. She could still feel his hands on her head, and when she glanced down she saw her own image was blurred and indistinct too.

He stroked her hair before he removed his hands. “It will be harder for people to spot us moving in the darkness now. Cain will be alerted that a spell has go

ne down, but he won’t know what for a while. Hopefully, it’ll be long enough.”

She covered one of his hands with her own, and drew it to her mouth, resting a kiss on his palm.

They left the house and walked up Shore Lane hand-in-hand. Zoë stared out across the water as they went. The wind had settled and it was a clear night, although much cooler than it had been earlier in the week. The reflection of the moonlight on the water looked like white satin spilled across obsidian marble. When they neared the marina, Gray led her faster, his hand tightening on hers. Up ahead, outside the boatyard, she made out two figures. Watchmen. The young woman with the bleached hair from the forest the night before, Isla, was there with Crawford. They were chatting quietly. Beyond them, she saw the older woman from the forest walking past the post office with a small dog on a lead. She had one arm in a sling.

As they closed on the main pathway of the marina, Crawford turned their way and looked straight at them. Zoë’s footsteps faltered. She was sure Crawford had seen something, but Gray urged her on and Crawford returned to his discussion. They turned left and covered the length of the wooden jetty quickly.

He went almost to the end of the main jetty, and then branched off onto a smaller one that ran between the many boats that were moored there. At last he stopped. Taking one last glance around, he began to remove the tarpaulin that covered a small motorboat.