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Taking my hand, he leads me up the sandy steps and into the cottage. He doesn’t ease his grip, holding me as he leads me upstairs, and only dropping my hand when he shoves me into the shower.
“I love you,” I say softly when we’re finally curled up under the sheets, warm and comfortable with the wind howling outside. My head is pounding but I need to say the words.
He says it back, the words indistinct. They’re kissed into my skin like tiny loving brands before he slips into sleep, leaving me to my worries.
CHAPTER 7
BLUE
Hours later, I’m still awake. Levi’s body is hot against mine, and my headache has finally eased. I should be closing my eyes and drifting away, but it’s not going to happen tonight. I roll onto my back and scrub my hands over my eyes. Outside, the wind howls around the house, rattling the doors and making the tree in the garden groan the way Tom does when he gets up from a chair. The house is filled with the sounds of rustling, and it makes me feel restless, as if I need to run and run.
I look over and place my hand gently on Levi’s back. He’s sleeping soundly, turned away from me. Usually, just feeling his breaths and making mine match his does the trick, but not now.
The room is bright with moonlight. The windowpane rattles suddenly, making me jump, but when I look over there’s nothing there. It’s just the wind, I tell myself. The curtains sway gently in the breeze coming through the pane. I consider getting up and closing them, but I don’t want to leave the bed where I’m cosy and warm. I grimace. Well, that and I’m a little wary of going near the window at night for fear I’ll see a face with a snout. I should have insisted on closing the curtains when we came to bed, but I’d been too intent on Levi and his warm hands and the gentle care he gives as if it’s nothing, rather than everything, to me.
I spin my wedding ring idly on my finger. I thought that it would take time to adjust to having it there, but the opposite is true. It feels grounding, like the world can finally see that I belong with someone. That I, Blue Billings, have a person all of my own.
I’m deep in thought about that novel concept when I become aware of a soft sound. I freeze, listening intently. The sound is insistent and regular and also very familiar. It’s a clock, with the same gentle, steady sound as the ticking of the old grandfather clock in our hall at home. The familiarity is probably why I didn’t make note of it underneath the wind and rustles. I cock my head. Where is it coming from? I can’t even remember seeing a clock here.
Tick tock. Tick tock.
Is it Branok? I look back at Levi and bite my lip in indecision. The sound draws me from the bed, and I lower my feet to the floor, hissing a little at the chill. After sliding into my boxers, I tiptoe to the door and open it cautiously.
The hallway is washed in moonlight but it’s silent and still. No fog tonight. Nothing out of order. Except for that bloody clock. The ticking is loud in the quiet space, making my brain itch.
Tick tock. Tick tock.
I edge along the hallway and look down the stairs. They’re shrouded in shadows, but sending out my senses tells me there’s nothing down there.
I pad down the stairs. The noise gets progressively louder, and by the last step, I have my hands over my ears. “What the fuck?” I say out loud, and then say it again for good effect. “What the fuck?”
Tick tock. Tick tock.
I take a breath outside the kitchen door and then slam into the room, the door rebounding off the wall. Branok’s chair is empty and still, the room lit only by the glow of the banked fire. And yet still the clock ticks. Like it’s counting down to something I don’t think I want to know about.
Tick tock. Tick tock.
“Who’s there?” My words are too loud—almost startling—and the ticking stops abruptly. The sudden silence rings in my ears. I wait a few moments. Good. It’s not coming back. That’s my cue to stop investigating nonsense and go back to bed to curl around my husband.
“It’s time, Mr Billings,” something whispers into the room.
I clutch my hand to my chest like an old lady with her pearls. My heart is hammering as though I’ve just done one of Levi’s runs. “Who’s there?” I say again, hearing the quiver in my voice.
“It’s time.”
I recognize the voice from my earlier dreams—it’s the man on the beach.
“Time for what?” My voice is steadier.
“Time to see what happens to little psychics who don’t accept the hand of friendship when it is offered to them.”
“Maybe I just didn’t feel like holding hands with you,” I snap.
I wait but there’s nothing—no comeback, no violence, no ticking clock. Even the wind has quietened as if the whole world has paused to listen. After another few seconds of silence, I mutter, “Tricks and sleight of hand,” and march out of the room and up the stairs.
The bedroom is cool, the bed huge and shadowed. Levi’s still sleeping. It suddenly occurs to me that this is unusual. He usually wakes up if I leave our bed and clatter around. Why didn’t he tonight? I made plenty of noise downstairs, and he didn’t follow me down there.
I tiptoe over to his side and put my hand on his forehead. He doesn’t stir. I frown but he’s cool to the touch, his breathing steady. Maybe he’s simply sleeping heavily, still recovering from all that’s happened over the past few weeks.
