Chasing the Bard (The Fey With Us) by Philippa Ballantine

Author:Philippa Ballantine [Ballantine, Philippa]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: ImagineThat! Studios
Published: 2011-02-26T05:00:00+00:00

*****

Sleep had never been Will’s friend; dark demons and sinister shapes had always followed him there. But now they were ever so much closer. He could feel their fingers reaching for him; his skin trembled and twitched at the thought of their foul touch. They knew his name, knew his home—there could be no escape. In an instant they would be on him.

Will lurched awake with an animalistic cry. For a dreadful moment he thought that they were in the room; his hand twitched, feeling icy fingers on it.

But then looking down, Will had to smile; no demon had him, only Susanna’s chilly little paw in his. She was certainly looking at him oddly, her dark eyes curious beneath an infant frown, almost as though she’d never seen him before. A cool shudder ran up Will’s spine at such an expression on his daughter’s face, and he scooped her up on his knee, inhaling the sweet scent of her baby hair. She said nothing, merely leant her sleepy head against his chest, and let a big sigh escape.

Will peered over her shoulder, suddenly wondering how White Cat was faring. But there was nothing by the fireside but his brother’s stained shirt. The door from the kitchen was open a little.

How could a cat have done that? “Susanna,” he whispered softly, “Did you open the door and let the cat out?”

His daughter’s head buried deeper into his shirt as she wiggled it vigorously, though it was hard to say if this was a denial or embarrassment. And then surprisingly she began to whimper, a low sob very different from a normal cry—as though afraid of being heard.

He could try and deny he felt it too, but the hard goose pimples on his skin and the knife of cold in his bowels couldn’t be easily ignored.

Bending down, he tucked Susanna into the warm chair. Though her bottom lip trembled, she was quiet and serious. Will couldn’t let White Cat die, and so despite his fear he went after the cat into the night.

The night watchman was doing his job exceptionally well tonight. Though the players were in town, always an excuse for merriment, the silver white moon and cool stars were undisturbed by mere mortals. No arguments were heard from any house, no animal stirred on the streets, the very world itself was stifled.

Will’s breath grew terribly noisy in his own ears, and his heart tripped faster in his chest, but still something drew him on. Down Henley Street he walked as quietly as he could, out to the edges of the town. He could hear nothing; just following the feeling of dread in his chest. It was not exactly a sane thing to do, but tonight, in the eerie still darkness, it felt right.

Will reached the midden heaps where all the refuse of Stratford was piled. The smell was beyond unpleasant, but it was something else entirely that made his world change.

For a brief moment Will was out in the open, looking at nightmares.

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