The Devil

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

Shafts of sunlight pierced the canopy of leaves. Branches lashed the faces of the six humans as they raced over the soft, treacherous, mossy ground. All around them, screams rang out through the hot, humid air, offering no respite or chance to catch a breath. High overhead, mighty wings beat like the sound of rending sailcloth. Will glanced up, but he saw nothing and hoped that meant the things could not see him.

Strangewayes ran up to Will. ‘We cannot outrun them. Let me take Grace and return to the river,’ he gasped. ‘We can follow the course more easily.’

‘Fool,’ Launceston breathed. ‘That is the first route the Fay will investigate.’

Will raised a hand to bring the group to a halt. As they gathered around him, eyes searching the green world, Strangewayes cried, ‘What, then?’ Tears of desperation stung the corners of his eyes. He let his gaze fall upon Grace as he blinked them away. ‘Do we run wildly like stags before the hunt until the Enemy bring us down one by one?’

‘This forest is vast and the Unseelie Court few,’ Will replied. ‘Even with their vaunted supernatural powers, we can evade them.’

Meg’s green eyes glinted, her face now as hard as marble. ‘Take heed of Will,’ she said. ‘Anything but a calm head will lead us into the Enemy’s hands.’

‘His recklessness and wilful disregard for our safety have brought us to the brink of disaster,’ Strangewayes protested. ‘And you say we should follow him still?’

‘If he makes much more noise, I can silence him with one stroke,’ Launceston volunteered, his stare unwavering.

‘Tobias, you must listen to Will.’ Grace clasped his hands in hers as she addressed the youngest spy. ‘I know you fear only for my safety. But Will has never failed us-’

‘How can you say that?’ Strangewayes threw his hands wide.

‘The Fay will expect us to flee in panic,’ Will continued in a calming tone. ‘In their arrogance, they think us weak, driven by our passions, our fear. We must show them we are better than that. If we run like rabbits, you are right, Tobias, they will hunt us down with ease.’

‘What do you suggest, then?’ Carpenter sucked in a deep breath to calm himself.

‘Stealth is the only way we can win this fight,’ Will replied. ‘We continue towards the Fortress Crepuscule-’

‘No.’ Strangewayes shuddered. ‘Into their very arms?’ His hand slipped to the hilt of his dagger.

The unearthly shrieks had ebbed away, but the beating wings still circled overhead. Will held up a hand. ‘We must keep our wits about us, and maintain a clear head. While they look for us running towards the river, we can steal to the very walls of their home, unseen, unexpected.’

‘Please, Tobias, listen to him,’ Grace implored.

The hot-headed young spy seemed agitated still. ‘I will not stand idly by and watch him lead you to your death.’

Strangewayes was acting like a fool, but Will pushed aside his irritation; he had seen this behaviour too many times before. When the Unseelie Court entered someone’s life, the world suddenly looked strange and terrifying. Men coped with it in different ways, and some, like Strangewayes, were driven to extremes to try to hold on to things they valued and people they loved. It was a kind of madness that oft-times passed, if the person was given space to recover. The ground had moved rapidly under Strangewayes’ feet, and Will only hoped the young man could find the strength within him to survive this turbulent time.

Carpenter and Launceston were less tolerant, Will knew. They exchanged a quick look and he could see they were poised to act. ‘We must not fight,’ he insisted, trying for a calming note. ‘They are listening for us. That is why the warning cries have stopped.’

Then, just when Will thought he was about to relent, Strangewayes lunged with the dagger. As Grace cried out in shock, Will threw himself back, feeling the blade whisk past his neck. He sensed that the younger spy had been waiting for a long time to make his move. As he regained his balance, Strangewayes’ fingers closed on Grace’s slim wrist and he dragged her with him through the undergrowth. She struggled to free herself.

‘Tobias, do not do this!’ she cried out, turning to look back at Will with pleading eyes. In that glance, he could see she was torn between the man she loved, though she knew he was a fool, and her belief in Will himself.

Cursing, Will dashed after her, the others close behind. Each moment increased their risk of being heard. ‘He will be the death of us, not you,’ Launceston hissed through clenched teeth.

‘Do not hurt him,’ Will ordered. ‘He is deluded-’

‘And dangerous in his foolishness,’ Meg said. Her eyes narrowed, her patience exhausted.

Through the curtains of low branches, Will glimpsed Strangewayes twisting and turning. Grace was now stifling her urge to call out so as not to attract attention, but he could see she was struggling to break free. As the younger man stumbled over a fallen tree, Carpenter, Launceston and Meg circled him like a wolf pack.

Drawing his rapier, Strangewayes levelled it at the other spies. He clutched Grace to him. ‘You waste precious time,’ Will cautioned, unable to keep the crack out of his voice.

Strangewayes took a step back, his heel pressing against a moss-covered mound. White eyes snapped open in the green, a black mouth tore wide, and the buried man screamed. The call was picked up in an instant. Shrieks rang out from trees and grassy banks and bubbling streams as the lost inhabitants of the village summoned their masters. The blood drained from Strangewayes’ face as he realized that through his own naivety he had put Grace’s life at more risk than Will ever had.

Cursing, Carpenter whirled, looking for a way out. Before any decision could be made, the screams stopped, leaving an unnatural silence that was even more chilling. ‘What have you done?’ Carpenter croaked.

From the direction of the fortress, the mournful sound of a single bell rang out.

‘The first alarm prepared them,’ Will growled, trying to pierce the forest gloom. ‘Now they are coming.’

A tremor ran through the leaves above his head; the branches began to sway. After a moment, a tremendous wind tore at the branches like a herd of wild beasts marauding through the forest. The angle of the sunbeams shifted as if the sun had been hurled towards the horizon, and a deep, abiding gloom began to unfurl among the trees.

Will grabbed Grace’s wrist and wrenched her out of Strangewayes’ grasp. ‘They took Jenny. They will not take you,’ he snarled. Beaten, the younger spy cried out in impotent fury, but Will was already picking a path away from the gathering dark. A drumbeat began to roll out deep in the forest at his back, the pounding growing louder by the moment. It was the sound of pursuit.

‘Will, do not fear for me,’ Grace cried out. ‘I chose to come with you in the full knowledge of the dangers that awaited.’ Her breath caught as they scrambled up a steep bank. ‘I am not afraid to die,’ she gasped.

‘Death is the least of our fears,’ Will growled. Forcing aside what might lie ahead, he thought back to the charts he had studied on the Corneille Noire. The vast Caroni river’s meanderings had been punctuated by falls and rapids, fast water gushing by high banks. There lay the one chance of escaping their pursuers.

Crashing through the branches with one arm thrown across his face, he yanked Grace along so hard her feet barely touched the ground. The drumming swelled behind them. Out of the corner of his eye, Will spied Meg, Launceston and Carpenter pushing through the undergrowth in the same direction, but the young fool Strangewayes was nowhere to be seen. He glanced over his shoulder and instantly regretted it.

Spectral, cadaverous faces snarling like wild beasts were emerging from the gloom. The pursuers thundered ever closer, bounding like hounds on all fours or swinging off branches and springing from tree trunks. Some were shaven-headed and bare-chested, with belts crossed over their torsos and axes or swords strapped to their backs. Others were ghosts in grey and silver doublets, white hair streaming, wicked-looking blades clenched in their fists. Will counted at least twenty of them: the Unseelie Court’s dreaded Hunters. Never slowing, never stopping, until they had their quarry; no more ruthless predators existed on the face of the earth. He had confronted them before, in the dark of an Edinburgh night and on the rain-lashed roof of Notre Dame cathedral in Paris, and it had taken all of his skill and experience and a dose of good fortune to survive.

Twenty. Will’s blood ran cold.

The glowing green world darkened as if storm clouds had swept across the sun. The suffocating heat of the day gave way to an unnatural chill. On the breeze rode the loamy stink of the grave. The drumbeat turned to thunder and Will knew their time must be near. Yet ahead the gloom looked a little brighter and he thought he could hear cascading water. So near, he thought. Grace was trying to hide her fear and in that moment he loved her more. He raised his head, showing his defiance.

On the edge of his vision, a flash of movement. Carpenter sprawled across the forest floor, one of the Hunters clinging to his back like an ape. Clawed hands rose and fell. There was blood. Realizing his friend had fallen, Launceston skidded to a halt. Whirling round, he drew his rapier and ran towards his companion.

Will ran on, feeling the ground shake under his feet. Grace’s hand was, it seemed, his only link with life.

Skirts held high, Meg danced through the undergrowth to his left, her red hair flying. With a frustrated cry, she flung her back against a tree and waited. Will locked eyes with her, and for one moment she smiled defiantly before her features hardened and her gaze flicked back to the approaching threat. As one of the Hunters leapt at her, she slashed at the thing with her dagger. Will felt grim pleasure as the agonized cry rang out.

Meg slipped from view. The gloom closed all around until he could see only that small circle of bright light ahead, drawing him on. Grace gasped and sobbed for breath, trying to keep a brave face. Behind him, more screams rang out — man or woman, he couldn’t tell — and the sound of rending and tearing, like a pack of dogs fighting over a ham bone. For Grace’s sake, he hid his growing despair.

Through the thinning screen of leaves and branches, the sunlight blazed brighter. He could smell the dank aromas of the river, and over the pounding of his own feet he could clearly hear the rush of water.

As he broke out of the gloom under the trees into the hot sun, he felt a weight slam into his back. Losing hold of Grace, he pitched forward and hit the ground hard. Skidding across the sward, he rolled over and then felt his legs swing out over a drop. He kicked wildly and dug his fingers into the turf as he slid round, and down. The roar of the rushing river rose up from somewhere beneath his boots. He forced himself not to look down. Saving Grace was now all that mattered.

As he tried to haul himself up on shaking arms, he caught sight of her terror-stricken face. She lay sprawled, two sword-lengths away from him, one desperate arm outstretched. From the dark around her head, ghastly faces appeared, baleful eyes fixed upon Will. Bony hands clawed out of the gloom, snatching her hair, pulling at her arms, her kirtle. Grace screamed, the sound drowning out Will’s cry.

His clutching fingers failing, Will felt leaves, twigs, slide under his nails as he scrabbled desperately to hold on. He called again, his voice cracking as those ghostly hands dragged Grace back into the dark.

And then his fingers tore free and he felt himself falling, Grace’s expression of sheer terror branded on to his soul.