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I stagger heavily to my feet. I run lumbering out of the door, half falling down the stairs. I can hear her getting up. I can hear her fetching something in the room. The gun. She is going for her gun. I can hear her at the top of the stairs. She doesn’t run down. She’s pointing the gun at me. There is a bang as she fires.
The bullet flies past my shoulder, ripping a line of fire into my flesh. I stumble down the last few stairs. And now she’s coming after me. Closer. And she is aiming again. Aiming to kill.
And ahead of me the front door is opening. I run towards it. Storm is standing in the doorway. Storm is here. I scream a warning at him. I throw myself down on the ground. His hand rises almost in a blurry arc. He fires his stunbommer. I feel the force of the magic fly over my back. I hear Beatrice hit the ground with a solid thunk.
Panting, I hoist myself up into a sitting position. I smile weakly at him. “You took your time,” I say.
Chapter 25
DIANA
On Thursday morning I awake tired but happier than I have felt in a really long time. My head feels light with sleeplessness, given that I was up half the night, too full of nervous energy to rest. My shoulder hurts where the hospital has patched up my wound, but I don’t care.
Storm had been eerily calm as he dealt with the fallout yesterday, and I am worried about how he feels now about what I did despite all of his warning about the danger. Despite all that, I have woken in a joyful mood.
I take a shower, change the dressing on my shoulder, then pick up AngelBeastie and take her for a little dance around my room, at which she yowls in disgust and leaps from my hands the second I’m finished clutching her. Laughing, I ruffle the thick fur on her head.
“The worst days are behind us Beastie. Things are going to be better from now on. You believe me.”
Beastie munchies her dry kibbles and looks unimpressed. Her grumpy little face seems to say that she’ll believe it when she gets that juicy salmon that I promised.
“I’ll come home with it,” I tell her. “You’ll see. But I might be late. I have a busy day today.”
My first stop is a supermarket in search of a cherry. My second is Beatrice Grictor’s house. I need to catch her secretary before the young woman disappears. Like I had hoped, when I arrive she is there. She is apologetic as she answers the door, saying that Beatrice will not be available for any appointments for a while.
“I didn’t come to see her,” I say. “I came to see you.”
“I’m nearly ready to leave,” she says guardedly. She continues packing her box of belongings on her desk. She picks up a name plate that says ‘Jane Mustow’ on it and drops it into the box.
“I’m sorry about your father,” I tell her.
She stiffens. She turns to look at me. Fear is etched onto her fine features. Features that I had never bothered to look at before. She doesn’t look much like the photograph that had been on Raif’s desk. She is wearing a glamour. She takes a step back from me, looking like she is going to flee.
“No,” I say quickly. “I’m not here to harm you. I’m here to give you this. Raif wanted you to have it.” I hold out my hand, showing her the silver key that Raif paid for with his life.
She looks at it in disbelief. Her breath comes out in little gasps. She reaches for it with trembling fingers as if she dares not believe it is true, but she doesn’t touch it. Tears are pouring down her cheeks. Her other hand goes to the silken scarf that is wrapped tightly around her throat and pulls it away, revealing that awful collar that I had once thought looked like a pretty tribal ornament. I flinch when I see it.
It is my flinch that finally persuades her that this is not a trick. Her fingers close over the silver disc in my palm. She clenches it tightly in her fist, and closes her eyes, scrunching them shut as if praying hard. I watch in fascination as the collar around her throat simply disappears into thin air. When she opens her clenched fist the disc is also gone.
Murmuring a cry of shock, she collapses down onto her chair. She touches the skin of her throat, pressing it as if she hasn’t felt it in a long time. Then she buries her face in her hands. Her shoulders are shaking as she sobs. Whether from relief or grief, I cannot tell. I reach over to touch her hair. It feels okay to do that because suddenly she seems so young.
“I’m so sorry for your loss. Raif clung on to this world because he was still thinking of you, and he was so desperate to make sure that there was someone here to help you. And he found me.”
I keep speaking to her softly, stroking her hair like Raif might have done if he was here. “Your dad taught me something important. That in the end it is love that matters, not vengeance. In the end he was thinking of you, not his murderer. He was thinking only of you.”
Eventually she stops weeping. She wipes her eyes. She has to clear her throat a couple of times before she is able to speak. “You saw him?” she asks tremulously.
I nod. “I saw his ghost. But he is gone now. He was at peace the moment he knew that I had promised to help you.”
“Does Beatrice know about me now?” She looks worried.
I shake my head. “I never told her. And she’ll be in prison for a long time. She never needs to find out.”
“I was so scared,” she whispers. “Of her. Of the fae. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know if he had managed to get the key. I couldn’t leave without it. There was no point. I can’t believe he’s gone.” Another tear slides down her cheek.
I put my hand on top of hers and I squeeze her hand gently. “Maybe he’s up there somewhere watching you, glad you’re finally free.”
She nods, and offers me a tremulous smile.
