“Yes. We should be comfortably set until the garden is ready for harvest. Pastas, rice, tinned sauces, tinned fruit. You did well.”
It was a ridiculous thing to be proud over, but she felt herself turning pink at his praise. “At least the trip was worth it.”
“We made it back in one piece. I do count that as a success.”
Clare laughed. But at the same time, the images returned: the creatures, frozen under their layers of ice, still alive, still watching. The blood. The way they had swarmed over Clare and Dorran as though willing to bury them alive.
Getting to the road had been nearly impossible, and that was only an hour away. She couldn’t imagine how they could go farther. Simply walking to the forest’s end would take at least four hours, and they would probably need to go much farther than that to find any kind of transport. Beth might as well be on another continent.
“I got something to celebrate with.” Dorran put his bowl aside and picked up the bottle of wine. “I hope you won’t mind drinking out of mugs.”
Clare realised her face had fallen, and she tried to put some cheer back into it. “That’s my favourite way to drink wine.”
He used the end of his spoon to force the cork into the bottle and half-filled two of the mugs. Clare took hers gratefully. The wine would at least help chase off some of the melancholy. Dorran was right—they’d gotten back alive and mostly unharmed, and that was as much of a success as they could ask for. The wine burnt as it went down, and the sweetness lingered. “This is nice.”
“It’s merlot,” Dorran said. “We have owned this bottle for decades, but when it was bought, it was worth nearly six thousand.”
Clare choked on it and pressed the back of her hand over her mouth. “For wine?”
“For prestige more than the drink, I think.” Dorran laughed. “My family was passionate about their collection. The staff drank cheap wines, and I liked them just as much. But I wanted you to have something nice tonight.”
“Well, it’s by far the most expensive thing I’ve put in my body.” She smiled down at the mug. Then a thought occurred. “Did you have to go into the cellar for it?”
“Only briefly.”
“Hah. It really doesn’t bother you, does it? I’d rather drink water for the rest of my life than go back down there again.” She pressed her lips together. “But thank you.”
Dorran’s smile was warm. For a moment, Clare was enraptured, enjoying the way he looked at her. Then he took a slow breath, his thumb tracing around the edge of his cup. “I think I know how to reach your sister.”
Her heart missed a beat. She stared, food and wine forgotten.
Dorran reached into his pocket and took out a small black shape. “While we were getting the supplies, I had a brief look at your car. And I found this in the ignition.”
He passed her the key. Her throat tightened as she wrapped her hand around the small fob. She realised, with a shock, it was the first time she’d held a personal possession since arriving at Winterbourne. Everything had been borrowed: the clothes, the shoes, and the food. She supposed that would change now. She had her luggage downstairs—two cases that now encapsulated the entirety of her life.
But the keys meant more than that. She lifted her gaze to meet Dorran’s. “Do you think we can get it to start?”
“I’m afraid it’s almost certainly dead. While I stood guard, I looked into the engine. I was hoping I could repair it, but I am not familiar with the system. It is more complex than what I know.”
“I guess your family still uses mechanical cars, whereas mine is full of digital parts.”
“That seems to be the case. But it is not a lost cause. Behind the house is a shed where our cars are stored outside of use. The cars themselves are all gone—taken when my family left for the Gould estate—but there is an engine I was toying with. If we can transplant the engine into your car, we may be able to get it to run.”
“If we could…” Clare rubbed the back of her neck. If they could, then Beth would no longer be unreachable. She bit her lip. “This is just a theory, but I think the masks might have protected us. Not just from the attack, but before, as well. I couldn’t see your face through the mesh. The hollows wouldn’t have been able to, either, and I think that was why they waited so long to attack.”
“You might be right,” Dorran said. “We had covered all of our skin. The hollow that watched us move the supplies out of the car—did you see how it looked at us? It was curious.”
“Exactly.” Clare was growing more confident in her theory. “All of the other hollows—the ones in the house and the forest—they either looked hungry or afraid. Never curious.”
“So the masks may have sheltered us—for a stretch. But the creatures are starving. You saw how they descended on the hollow we killed. Even his bones were broken and consumed. After that, they lost all control.”
Clare agreed. “Like an animal that becomes so hungry that it ignores every other instinct. Maybe killing that first hollow pushed the rest into a frenzy.”
“But even if they do not protect us completely, the masks should at least buy us some time. That will help.” Dorran nodded to himself. “The journey will be dangerous, but not unachievable. We would need to find a way to keep the garden stable while we are away. And we would need part of our fuel reserves for the car. But if you are prepared to take a risk, I am, as well.”
“Yes.” Clare’s heart felt painfully full. The radio stood on the shelf, turned on but its volume kept low to muffle the static. She wished she could talk to Beth, to tell her what they were thinking, to tell her they were coming.
“I will see about the engine tomorrow—and see what it might need to be compatible with your car.”
“Thank you.”
The gap between their chairs was narrow, but Clare reached between it to be closer to Dorran. He took her hand. They sat in silence, drinking their wine as they watched the fire. When Clare glanced towards her companion, she thought he looked the happiest she had ever seen him. Dorran wasn’t the kind of person to grin or pose. But a small, content smile curved his lips, and his heavy-lidded eyes were bright. He ran his thumb over Clare’s fingers. His happiness was infectious. When Clare fell asleep that night, she was almost comfortable enough to ignore the scratching in the walls.
Chapter Twelve
Clare hadn’t thought it was possible to be as stiff as she was. Every time she moved her arms, the muscles ached, running from her shoulder blades down to her hands.
Light came through the gauzy curtains to flow across the wallpaper. She’d slept in late. Clare sat up in bed, groaning under her breath, and blinked sleep out of her eyes. Dorran’s half of the bed was empty. A bowl on the bedside table was covered with a plate to retain its heat, and a small note, written in ink, was poised on top.
I will be back soon. Wait for me. Love, D.
“Seriously? You don’t let me wander around the house alone.” Clare grumbled as she threw the blankets aside and slipped sore feet into her boots. “Double standards.”
She touched the bowl’s side. It was still warm. He couldn’t have gone far. A faint worry that he might have left for the shed alone—ventured outside, where she couldn’t protect him if anything went wrong—tightened Clare’s chest. She tied her hair back as she tried to quiet her mind. Dorran was stubborn, but he wasn’t stupid. He wouldn’t step into a situation that risky without at least telling her. More likely, he had gone to water the garden or unpack their new supplies.