Mark of Betrayal (Dark Secrets #3)(119)
Author: A.M. Hudson

I stopped dead when I saw a man kneeling on the ground under my tree; his shoulders hunched, his dark hair shining with flames I could feel but not see. His hands moved purposefully up and down, and when I stepped closer, hesitant and ready to run, he looked up at me; his green eyes like glass, his face smudged with red.

I gasped, jumping back, and the man went about his business, ignoring me.

In his lap, a mess of hair and blood coloured the night, seeping down the pale white skin and yellow dress of the limp girl, her head buried facedown against his knees. A great gaping tear seemed to spilt her in two, following her spine, and the man rocked back and forth over her, singing his song, stitching her skin closed from the top of her neck, down.

“What happened?”

“She loved me,” he said. “She trusted me, and I hurt her.”

“Jason?” I touched his shoulder.

“I can’t make her smile again.” He stopped rocking and looked up at me. “Look what I did to her. Look how broken she is.”

We both looked back at the girl, and almost as if he forgot I was here, his song started again with a new kind of melody, laden with a sliver of malice, as he continued his vain attempt to suture her up. But she couldn’t be fixed. She was damaged beyond repair, and no matter how tight he pulled that stitch, she would never look at him again.

“Jason.” I tried to make him see, tried to make him realise I was here, but he was lost in his own agony—too far gone for me to save. He was with her, in whatever Hell they had been dragged down to.

“Oh, Ara.” He lifted the girl, making her spine bend in an unnatural way, and cradled the back of her head against his face. “Ara. Ara. Ara,” he said, over and over again.

It started echoing away, becoming a ghostly call, like a wild wind howling through the treetops. I looked up, heard it resonate from over the hill, out there, somewhere in the darkness.

Ara.

I looked behind me.

Ara.

My eyes flashed open to a dark room, my blanket scrunched in a tight fist, the cry of the wind living outside my dream. It howled again, screaming my name. I jumped out of bed and wandered slowly across my room, following the noise. It was so dark I bumped my leg on several things as my bare feet fell carefully over the floorboards and rugs beneath them. When I reached the fireplace, the sound of my name being screamed carried up the emptiness inside it and whirled around my head.

“Aaaaarraaaaa!”

I grabbed the mantle and leaned in, holding my breath, but the noise stopped.

“Hello?” I called cautiously, squatting down, placing flat palms on the hearth. It was empty, deep, nothing but a draft and the smell of soot and ash inside. I slightly crawled into the hollow, praying nothing creepy sprung up out and grabbed me.

And the noise came again; I lifted my head, rocked back on my heels and looked around. It wasn’t coming from the fireplace; it was coming from the wall.

I was just about to rush across my room and flick the light on, when I heard glass breaking down the hall. I ran for the door, yanked it open and looked past Falcon to the end of the corridor. Arthur came out from his room, cursing to himself, and walked toward the stairs, carrying his stone mixing bowl.

“What’s going on?” I asked Falcon.

He shrugged. “Nothing. Why?”

“I heard screaming.”

His eyes narrowed. “It was probably just a bad dream. I haven’t heard anything.”

I nodded, but I knew I heard it, even if he didn’t. “I don’t expect you to understand, Falcon, so you can follow me if you want to, but don’t stop me. I need to see what Arthur’s up to.”

I took off walking, vaguely mindful that Falcon was behind me, and also extremely glad. That noise was a sound of pure terror; the person who screamed it, a lost soul, suffering an agony that couldn’t be repaired. I had to find them. I had to set them free.

When I came upon the second floor landing, Arthur was already gone. I spun around a few times, trying to catch his scent.

Falcon cleared his throat and pointed toward the west wing.

“Thanks, Falcon.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said, and we started walking.

The noise continued down here, and this time, I knew Falcon heard it. He went stiff, coming up quickly beside me. “What is that?” he said.

“That’s the screaming I heard.”

A door popped open at the end of the hall, and Falcon grabbed my arm, pulling me closer to the wall. A man closed that door behind him, and when he approached, becoming visible in the light, I let myself breath again.

“Arthur?” I said, shrugging out of my knight’s grip.

“Ara?” He stopped dead. “What are you doing out of bed?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” I nodded to the bowl. “What happened?”

He looked weary, worn. He rubbed his brow and walked past me. “Night terrors.”

“Night terrors?” I looked at Jason’s door. “Is he okay?”

“He’s asleep now. As should you be.”

“I heard my name being called.”

Arthur dropped his hand from his brow and pressed it to my back, guiding me down the corridor. “He was calling for you in his sleep.”

“Why?”

He sighed. “Who do you think he was dreaming about?”

My heart tightened. “Is it…does he dream about the tortu…”

“Yes,” he cut in. “Leave it in the past, Amara. It’s late.”

And that was that. He walked ahead and disappeared, leaving me in the darkness of the second floor corridor.

I looked up at Falcon. “Night terrors.”

He nodded. “Guilty conscience.”

“But…he shouldn’t be feeling guilt.”

“He wouldn’t be human if he didn’t, Ara.”

I smiled. “He’s not human.”

“Yes, he is. He’s just an immortal human.”

The evening chatter seemed to be louder tonight, the people alive with the presence of our newcomer. And though I was feeling quite refreshed from having seen my husband yesterday, I still found myself looking at his empty chair.

Morgaine hardly took her eyes off Mike all night, and he’d hardly touched his food, even Eric was quiet. None of the knights were yelling jokes down the table at each other and the tell-tale sign that Arthur was in some deep pit of turmoil was when Margret forced her opinions around about the reign of Genghis Kahn, and he just sat there, with nothing to say. Her theories were enough to make me choke. In fact, the only time Arthur came to life was to rap Jason across the back of the head every time he leaned forward to gawk at me.