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Biting wind assaults me, as I scour the view for them. Nothing. I trudge on across the gravel that’s been cleared a little, hands in my pockets to stave off the cold. It’s all so like him. Such a representation of what he is.
Memories invade me of the last time I was here, as I approach the wrought iron garden seats. It was late summer then, the view less snow laden than it is now. We talked for hours about life, things. Got drunk and laughed, as if the world out there, and my problems associated with it, didn’t exist. And then we headed underground, amusing ourselves with every next despicable intent he could think of to tempt me.
Nothing did.
The distant sound of laughter catches my ears after a while, and I search the grounds some more for it. There isn’t anything to see other than the normal barren expanse, but the noise carries on, eventually becoming less like laughter and more like a shriek of fear. I stop and gaze up at the windows, wondering if I missed them inside, and watch a clump of snow fall passed one of them.
My gaze flies upwards, scouring the roof line. And then I see her perched on an overhang.
What the fuck is she doing up there?
I step back and glare, wondering what the hell he’s playing at taking her up there, and search for him. He’s nowhere to be seen. It’s just her balanced on the ledge of a gargoyle, her hands out to the side as if she’s trying to damn well fly.
“HANNAH. BACK UP!” shouts out of me.
No response. I don’t even know if she heard me with this wind. Jesus.
I watch, waving my hands and calling to try and get her attention. Nothing. She’s as still as a post, nothing but her hands wavering out to the side and her hair blowing about in the wind. And then Malachi’s behind her, his foot resting on the overhang as he looks down at me. Another clump of snow falls, splattering to the floor less than two meters from me. I can barely see his features from here, but he’ll be damn well laughing I know that much. Tempt me?
This isn’t temptation. This is madness.
With nothing else for it, I run, sprinting back to the entrance and heading for one of the staircases to the roof. Fucking idiot. Playing with someone is one thing, tempting them into madness is another. I should have forced her from here, given her no choice in the matter. She means so little to him. Less than nothing. A toy to break, push, cajole into whatever he chooses. And who fucking knows what barrier he’ll breach when he’s amused at my expense.
I can barely breathe as I rush the steps upwards two at a time, clawing at the walls to get there faster. Memories invade me as I run, and panic laces every instinct I’ve got to get there quicker. I heave in breaths raggedly to forge forward faster, one hand eventually pushing on the old wooden door to get me out onto the roof.
Silence.
I look left and right, trying to get my bearings as to where the hell I am. West wing? I don’t know. I sprint again, jumping the snow drifts up here and weaving the towers. The eventual sight of them both brings me scraping to a halt.
She’s still there on the overhang, her arms perfectly still as she hums a song to herself. Malachi turns to look at me from his position a few feet behind, a slight smile on his face as he looks me over. “Are you her rescuing lord, Gray?”
“Fuck you. Bring her back.”
“Have you brought a sword?”
“Malachi, stop it.”
“Why?” He looks back at her. “Malachi says spin in a circle.” She does slowly, bare feet gently inching her toes around until she’s looking back at me.
I walk sideways, edging towards the lip she’s teetering on, and focus on her eyes. They seem lifeless now, duller and more hollowed than they normally are. “Malachi says touch your nose.” She does that as well, her balance wavering now she’s only got one arm out to keep her steady.
“This is not a fucking game,” snaps out of me quietly.
He holds a small, silver chain up, dangling the length of it at me and swinging the globe on the bottom back and forth. “Yes it is. And she looks good in it, don’t you think? To fall or not to fall.”
“Hannah, walk to me,” I say, edging further towards her and ignoring him. No response other than her still perched finger on her nose and his occasional chuckle in the background.
“You didn’t say Malachi says. She won’t do a thing until Malachi says.”
I growl at him and inch closer again, my arm and hand outstretched to grab her. Her eyes fire to life, a hard glare suddenly directed at me. “You don’t want me,” she says. Yes I do. I want her more than she knows. “You’re no fun.”
“Hannah, come to me.”
“No. Malachi didn’t say. He’s my friend now,” she murmurs. He chuckles and steps away from the ledge, another laugh coming soon after.
“Malachi, I swear if you don’t-“
“What? You’ll what?”
