Page 45 of A Taste Of Truth

Home.

Something goes around my shoulders, and my legs are lifted from the floor. We’re walking, or he’s walking. I’m floating, held tight and floating through the air like it’s not here. Maybe it isn’t. Maybe none of this is here and I’m just remembering and flying like a bird.

The knife isn’t on anything anymore. It’s loose in my hand. No pressure on it to push against or power to wield. “Are you here with me?” I ask.

“Yes. Here. Always here. Wherever you want me to be.” I know what that means now. Love. Kindness. Blood. “You ran from me, little Alice.”

Did I? Yes.

Run.

I scramble, try pushing off him again. He won’t let me go, though. I don’t think I want him to either. Not now. There’s a song – a rhythm. Mine – ours. Can’t hear it, not properly. And a noise.

What’s that?

I look over his shoulder into the gloom, grab the knife tighter, then ruck my legs around his waist so I can keep check of what’s behind us in the gloom.

“Hurry, quicker, Malachi.”

He chuckles and puts his hand on my back, rubbing it soothingly. It isn’t soothing. I’m on alert, keeping us safe from the monsters coming for us. Must protect us – must protect me.

My head rears back, eyes focused on his. “Quicker, they’re coming.”

“Who’s coming?”

“They are.”

A smile stretches across his face, strong arms holding me tighter, and he tucks my head into his neck. “I’m the only monster here, little Alice.” No he’s not. He’s not a monster at all. He’s part of me. I know him, can feel him running through my bloodstream as if we’re one. “But I think you might match me. Will you keep saving me?”

“Yes. Kill the badness. Make us safe. Protect.”

I snuggle my head into his shoulder, mouth close to his jugular. My skin – my man. My throat to take. It’s wet under my lips, making me lick the dampness off him. Sweat. No, iron. Blood? My eyes widen, realisation dawning from somewhere. He’s bleeding. For me. I did this with my knife and my power over men. And we’re together because of that.

Two, or one.

I giggle and nibble at his neck, feeling protected. He’s humming to me, low words murmuring about something as we float onwards. It’s nice. Just me and him. Promises. Low words and promises.

Him and I.

Just us.

No more badness to infect us.

Cold, though.

Still so cold.

And I’m falling now.

Tumbling and falling, nothing to hold onto and nothing holding on to me.

The abrupt shock of freezing wet on my skin makes me startle and roll to get away from it. My knees grind into something hard, and I push upwards slowly. My gaze flicks around, looking for him. Did he drop me? Must have.

“Malachi?” I search wildly, feet stumbling over the rocky ground. “Where are you?” No response. He was here. He was. I felt him and heard him and tasted him. But now he’s … gone? “Malachi?”

A crunch sounds off to the right of me, and I cover ground quickly to get to it only to suddenly be filled with visions of someone new. He stalks out of the ether and drops the hood on his coat to stare at me. Nefarious. Moody features.

And it’s not Malachi.