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"I didn't mean to," she said. "Whatever I did."
"Not you. I meant--" A sharp shake of his head. "Never mind."
Liv moved up against him. "No, tell me."
"I was apologizing . . . to the shadows apparently."
She sat back, considering, as if there were nothing the least bit odd in that statement. She studied the shadows again.
"They touched you," he said.
"I felt it," she said. "Like the proverbial fingers down my spine."
Another tendril snaked toward her back. Ricky pulled her almost onto his lap, his arms going around her. The tendril slid back, rising along the wall, and as he watched it, he saw not fog but smoke.
Saw smoke. Smelled it. A flash of memory. Fire, a blaze of it so sudden and bright that his horse reared up, and Matilda running straight for that fire, and him shouting, leaping off his horse, running to her, hearing Gwynn yelling.
Ricky jerked out of Arawn's memory, but he could see it, smell it, and most of all, feel it, heart pounding, guts ablaze, seeing Matilda running as he shouted, knowing he could never reach her in time and thinking, What have I done?
Screaming it in his head.
What have I done?
Ricky shook his head harder, but the shadows kept coming, oozing from the walls, slinking toward them.
Get her out. She's not theirs.
She will not be theirs again.
"Ricky?"
He shoved back his hair and squeezed his eyes shut.
"What's Arawn saying?" she murmured.
He shook his head. "It makes no sense. Something about the fire. Matilda and the fire and losing her. Freaking out about losing her to the shadows and . . ." He exhaled. "Can we leave? I know it sounds crazy, and we came to investigate but--"
"Trust your instincts. Always."
She started toward the ledge. He caught her ankle and moved up beside her, murmuring another apology, which she brushed off. He was freaked, so she'd stay close, no questions asked.
They were almost to the water when Liv slowed, her attention caught by the shadows creeping along the edge, keeping pace with them but making no move to come closer.
"Do you hear that?" she said.
"I hear bells."
"That's what I thought it was. Bells. But now it sounds like . . ." She squinted over her shoulder at the distant glow behind them.
"Sounds like?" he prompted.
"Fire," she murmured.
He stiffened. "It sounds like fire?"
"No, sorry. I'm skipping ahead. The shadows are sparking Arawn's fears, literally. His memories of the fire Matilda died in. He's afraid of losing her to the shadows."
"Again. Losing her to them again," he said.
