I eyed the horrible wound on Tarron’s leg, and approached. Without saying anything, I touched his shoulder and fed my new healing energy into him.
“You’ve always healed me before,” I said. “Time to return the favor.”
“Thank you.” He frowned. “You’re hurt, too.”
I shrugged. My own wounds hurt like hell.
He pressed his hands gently to my shoulders and fed his healing energy into me. It surged through my veins, warm and comforting.
My gaze collided with his, and it was like the rest of the world disappeared around us. Birdsong faded and the world narrowed until I could only see him. His beautiful green eyes.
They’d once been gold and black—and they might be again—but for now, he was here. With me. I’d take what I could get, and enjoy it.
As his warmth flowed through me, the pain faded. My skin knit itself back together, and finally, I was whole.
The wound on his leg finally closed, and I withdrew my hand. I turned around and spotted Declan healing Aeri. Her white fight suit was covered in red blood from her wounds. It was a gruesome sight, the product of a spell that turned her white blood red when it touched the fabric of the suit. We didn't tell anyone what we were, and the spell definitely helped.
When they were done, they turned to me.
“I can transport us.” I nodded to Declan and Aeri. “You two first.”
They approached, reaching for my hand. We gripped each other, and I closed my eyes, envisioning a distinct place within the city walls of York—Clifford’s Tower.
The motte and bailey castle was impossible to miss—a simple tower extending up from a hill—one where terrible things had once happened.
It seemed perfect for the present state of affairs.
The three of us appeared within the tower. It was a nearly-round space, only about a hundred feet in diameter, with soaring white stone walls and an open ceiling. It had once been the scene of a terrible genocide, when the Christians had attacked the Jews in York, besieging them in the tower until they’d collectively committed suicide to avoid a terrible fate outside of the castle walls.
Aeri glanced at it. “Interesting choice.”
“I thought it would be empty at this hour.” And I was right. There wasn’t a soul around. No one to see us appear out of thin air. “I’ll be right back.”
I returned to the abbey and found Tarron staring at the ruins, shadows in his eyes. He turned to me as I approached. “I can feel her influence more strongly.”
I shivered, cold rolling over me.
I could feel it too. Like I was looking into the false queen’s eyes.
“Fight it.”
“I am. I will.” His jaw tightened. “But I can feel that there may come a time when I am not strong enough, despite my best efforts.”
“There won’t.”
“There will. And if you are there and I attack, you must strike to kill. You must.”
A shiver raced over me as I remembered the terrible dream I’d had. He was right. When he was like that, he couldn’t be reasoned with.
“We’ll face that problem when it comes.” I gripped his hand. “For now, you’re here. And we’re going to fix this.”
His lips tightened, but he just nodded. There was no point in arguing with me about this. No point at all.
6
I transported Tarron and myself to Clifford’s tower. The city was just waking up, but here, inside the tower, it was quiet.
A dark energy filled the air, and I shuddered. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
“It’s haunted,” Aeri said. “No question.”
I shivered. After our last encounter with ghosts, I wasn’t keen to see more. Especially not here at the tower, where such horrible things had happened so long ago.
We hurried to the iron gates. Quickly, Aeri picked the lock, and we slipped out of the tower. Clifford’s Tower was a motte and bailey castle, which meant it was essentially just a simple tower built on top of a man-made mound of earth.
In front of us, a long row of stairs extended down the hill to the ground. We hurried down, bypassing some geese who seemed determined to cause trouble. We were on the outskirts of the oldest part of town, and it felt dead.
“I don’t think that what we seek is here,” Tarron said.
I nodded. “Let’s head farther into the city.”
We walked toward the ancient buildings of York. It didn’t take long to reach the twisting, cobblestone walkways of the main part of the city. The buildings were ancient, medieval things that leaned drunkenly into each other. They were pressed so close to one another that the streets were narrow and winding. Ancient cobblestones lined the ground.
Once I stood amongst the historical jumble, there was more for my Seeker sense to pick up on.
Except it didn't really work.
There was too much here.
“Any luck?” Aeri asked.
“No. I can feel a general tug in that direction”—I pointed down the street—“but there’s so many buildings crammed together that I can’t tell which one the ghost is in.”
“Lot of ghosts here,” Declan said.
“What about this place?” Tarron pointed to a hanging sign above us. “We might be able to narrow it down in there.”
I looked up, catching sight of the cursive words Medieval Museum of York. “A museum?”
“They should have old maps that could give us clues about which buildings to check,” he said.
“Oh, not a bad plan.”
“And a nice change from running from ghosts,” Aeri said.
We entered the quiet little museum and paid the fare, then entered the silent exhibits.
“Let’s split up,” Aeri whispered. “I’ll call you if we find anything promising.”
“Sounds good.” I gave a little wave as she and Declan melted into the darkness, disappearing into the dioramas exhibit.
Tarron and I went the other way, walking down aisles of glass cabinets filled with artifacts, each painstakingly marked with little paper cards. They didn’t seem promising, so I headed toward another exhibit. We needed maps.
The museum was empty at that hour, with not a single soul around. It was almost soothing.
I leaned toward him. “This is surprisingly normal for us.”
“Almost like a date,” Tarron said.
“You’d take me to a museum on a date?”
“Literally anywhere on a date would be good with you.”
I smiled up at him.
He grinned down at me, but his smile faltered. He grimaced and staggered, gasping, “Get away.”
Oh no.
His eyes went gold, shot through with black.
“Tarron.” I gripped his arms. “Come back to me.”
He groaned, his fists clenching. “Get back.”
“No. Fight it!”
His face twisted, and he shuddered.
“You can do this.” I shoved him back against a wall, hard enough that his head smacked.
He just growled lower.
I pressed myself against him, kissing him as hard as I could.
He went still, then pulled back, gasping.
His eyes were green once more.
“Are you all right?” he asked. “Did I hurt you?”