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  ‘What am I doing,’ she muttered, suddenly feeling like an idiot; the kid playing detective. Staring at the lowering sky also made her realise just how quickly the light was fading. Standing alone in the woods was probably not a good idea, no matter how excellent a track record for crime St Jude’s possessed. She should go before it got really dark.

  Easier said than done. Taking a step forward, she was immediately spooked by a sudden rush of air and something winged flew over and close to her head, screeching. Recovering, she stood as still as possible and tried not to make a sound as her eyes adjusted to the gloom.

  Then she noticed the hand.

  White as snow, it emerged, a little way in the distance, almost completely submerged in a monstrous, towering pile of brown and red foliage. To her dismay, though mostly hidden, the fingers - slightly curved as if beckoning her closer - were unmistakeably human.

  Images flooded her mind so powerfully she felt physically bombarded: the pale skin of her mother’s corpse, so delicate and human against the unforgiving, black road; the doctor’s palm on the defibrillator as the ECG monitor beeped and sputtered, transmitting her mother’s falling bpm, her failing life, in garish green; her own long fingers, wrapped around her necklace; and then an unfamiliar vision of foreign, white hands turning over hourglasses. Reeling, she dropped to her knees, pressing her fists against her temples as if warding off an attack. The forest swam before her. Sluggishly she struggled to her feet and tried to move toward the hand - this person could still be alive, and in need of help – but it was like wading through tar. Her heart felt frozen in her chest, unable to supply oxygen to her static muscles.

  With tremendous effort, she forced herself forward. Swallowing back the sudden rush of saliva into her dry mouth and the pressing urge to vomit, she tentatively placed her fingers to the inert wrist. It was stone-cold.

  Raegan didn’t allow herself to draw any conclusions; to do so would be to give way to the tears that were threatening. She had to carry on. At what point she should call the police, she didn’t know – all she knew was that she couldn’t just leave it like this, buried under leaves, dirt, and assorted rubbish that had blown over. She also felt an urgent need to see this person’s face; as if she owed it to him or her. Clinically, decisively, she began to pull the leaves off the body. Thorns stuck to her blue woollen gloves so she peeled them off and worked with her bare hands. Even as they grew reddened, sore and so cold that the fingers did not want to work, she did not stop.

  After it seemed like years had passed her urgently moving hands finally came to a halt. An old woman, her eyes shut, with long grey hair and two thin legs sticking out of a battered, green coat, lay before her. Her face was unmarked but below the neck she was one big bruise; the coat gaped at the top, so that naked flesh, purple and raw, peeked out. Feeling incredibly sad, Raegan tugged the zipper up. Protecting this woman’s dignity was the least she could do. As she did, a flash, something vibrant and green, hit her eye. Her fingers froze in mid-motion.

  After a long, long moment, during which the entire forest seemed poised in waiting – hardly daring to pierce the silence with the merest rustle -the zip, now trembling, continued on its downward journey.

  Tears fell on the green material as something of the same colour, but an altogether more dazzling shade, was pulled out to rest against it. Raegan would have recognised the object anywhere. It was one of a kind and had meant so much to the one it was made for.

  It was Marie’s necklace.

  A strangled sob broke its way free from her throat. Disbelieving, her mind whirled. How could this be? This was an old woman – had she stolen the necklace from her? Marie would never have given this up without a fight...

  But there was something about the shape of the woman’s head, the tilt of her brow, the curve of her lip... hardly daring to breathe, and feeling totally morbid, Raegan slid the zipper down a little further. The bruises were more extreme the lower she went. Violet now mingled with an unpleasant, painful yellowish brown. Gently, she pushed the edge of the coat to the side, not wanting to glimpse more than was strictly necessary.

  It was as she had known it would be, deep down. The tiny blue butterfly was there, dancing across the chest that would never again move with breath.

  ***

  By the time she struggled to her feet again, night had fallen. The only light shone dimly from the houses in front of the forest, separated from the trees by a concrete alley, looming solidly but offering little comfort; like a squat, impenetrable line of backs turned away in disinterest from the young girl weeping over her friend. She knew it was Marie; every fibre of her body told her so. And yet she was racked with confusion. It was impossible.

  More importantly, if she could not quite reconcile herself to Marie’s fate, how on earth could she tell anyone? She imagined herself striding up to the police station and declaring, ‘I’ve found Marie! Yes, that girl, you know, the one who hadn’t even been reported missing? She’s in the woods, except it looks nothing like her because she’s not wearing the same clothes, her hair is a different colour, and she’s very pale. Oh yeah, and she’s about seventy years older – should I have mentioned that before?’

  The truth was unlikely to set her free. Instead, it had isolated her in a prison of awful realisation: the reality of what Marie had suffered was hers to bear. No one would believe her. She was completely alone.

  The unfamiliar crunching sound slowly piercing her consciousness quickly disproved that assumption.

  There was something about this sound that set it apart from the frequent rustles of creatures in their nests. Raegan’s voice rang out, high and terrified, on the cold air. ‘Hello? Is somebody there?’

  The wind tossed her words back to her and she wished straight away that she’d kept her mouth shut. Why was she standing here like this, waiting for the noise to get closer? Then her eyes fell on the prone body of her friend and she remembered. She could not just scurry off down the path beside the houses. She could not leave her.

  So she stood, eyes straining, as a pair of feet picked their way across the leaves. The unmistakeable shape of a man bloomed in the darkness, his fine-boned features and wide, pale blue eyes strangely discernible in the absence of light. Raegan inhaled quickly. It was Christian.

  And as Christian glided toward her, with the loping, easy grace of a leopard about to crush some unsuspecting warthog, her pendant began to throb. Usually cool and light against her chest, it now burned her skin with a furious intensity.

  It wasn’t logic that told her what to do. It was her blood screaming through her veins and her gut clenching like a fist. Instinct alone commanded her to turn on her heel. And run.

  Her feet pounded on the spring carpet of the forest and her heart jumped until it was pulsating in her throat. She felt vomit rising but she didn’t care. All that mattered was getting away. A terrible wind, which rocketed her head back painfully as she tore through the trees, howled in her ears. The branches whipped back and forth at an accelerated rate, scratching her arms.

  Now her feet met pavement with dry, frantic slaps. Her chest was beginning to hurt, breath ripping at her lungs with her rising bpm. Keep going. The wind was still fighting her, and as she reached the side of the row of houses her vision blurred in and out of focus. She imagined Christian’s breath hot on her neck.

  And then it happened.

  The now familiar sensation. The distortion of perspective, the images curling at the edges, bending, like in her bedroom earlier that day. Her mind was failing her. Just keep going. Her eyes were rolling in her head, panicked, as she continued to move: she was being swallowed whole by a nightmare. She had no choice but to plunge into the opening; but the path before was now a neverending tunnel, terrifying, mutating in front of her eyes, compressing and expanding in tandem with the beating of her heart. Cars zipped back and forth in the distance like shooting stars, gone in a blink. She felt a strange crackle along her skin as if all the hairs had shot up to stand on end.
The pendant pulsed with heat alongside.

  The urge to stop and put her head between her knees had never been stronger; but her desire to live won out. On she ran.

  Suddenly, Christian was beside her. Then, as if materialising out of thin air, he was on the other side; the howling of the wind seemed to accelerate when he was near. Now, with a burst of unreal speed, so fast she did not even see, he was in another position: flinging open the gate, further down the path, and running toward her.

  She skidded to a halt, her arms outstretched, certain he was going to crash into her, at the speed he was going he would knock her off her feet-

  Her hands met thin air.

  The weight of her movement propelled her forward, and instinctively she fell down to one knee. Her darting eyes found only the flimsy wood fence framing the alleyway and the dark expanse of the forest and roads beyond; again, and again, she checked, but there was not a soul in sight. Even so, her attention did not waver. She did not allow herself to register concern that her vision was still flickering at the edges, as if objects in her periphery were vanishing and reappearing at will. She did not even think about why her pendant had begun to cool against her clammy skin. As her bpm returned to normal the unsteadiness in her vision began to subside. She hardly noticed.

  Her body, unused to exercise, ached. She was still shaking from adrenaline and fear. But a little voice cut through the sticky, tar-like mire of her mind and told her that she was too exposed, like a sitting duck. She had to keep moving.

  No sooner had she got to her feet was she back on the ground.

  She landed heavily on her backside. It hurt. An aching in her jaw and the metallic tang of blood, trickling gelatinously inside her mouth, told her that something or someone had knocked her down. She hadn’t even seen it coming.

  Christian crouched in front of her. The light blue eyes were thoughtful; kind, even. Raegan could have almost believed it was all a dream if it wasn’t for his smile. He was enjoying himself.

  ‘I’m very glad to see you again.’

  If she wasn’t trapped against the wall, Christian blocking her escape, two impossibly strong hands holding her legs down; if a tooth in her mouth hadn’t come loose with the force of his punch; if the howling wind and the squeezing and expanding of space in her vision hadn’t now accelerated again; if the pendant on her chest wasn’t burning with painful intensity – they could almost have been back in Mojo’s, engaging in a flirtation.

  He was toying with her. She couldn’t pretend to herself that she was going to survive this, but she would not be played.

  Slowly Raegan raised her head, dry lips parting as she met his gaze. But the pleas for mercy that Christian expected did not come. Instead, mouth puckering, she spat the blood at him.

  The blue eyes flickered with brief surprise.

  Then the time for bravery was over. One moment had barely turned into the next and he was upon her. Her throat was in his hand as if in a stone vice, and she found her voice at last: choked, agonised screams burst from her lips as he lifted her upwards.

  Raegan’s hands batted uselessly at his as she dangled, held aloft by her neck. Weakening, one of her hands dropped, as if tracing the mist descending in front of her eyes. It brushed against the lump of her pendant; the pendant which was now glowing, the gold light dazzling even through the layers of clothing. With her last ounce of strength, she fumbled for it, and clasped it tightly in her hand. Her eyes closed.

  But death did not come. Instead, a sudden movement from above and behind jolted her forward, and she was soaring upwards. Her eyes flew open, and a yelp of fear was torn from her screaming mouth by the rushing wind; Christian’s furiously mouthing face was growing smaller and smaller, as were the houses, street lamps and the shadows of the forest. She was flying through the night sky; and only the beating of huge wings behind her and the razor sharp talons on her shoulders and under her armpits gave her any inkling as to what was carrying her.

  Chapter Six: In Time

  On and on they soared.

  After a while it became apparent that it was beyond Christian’s capabilities to give chase, and the steady, smooth action of the creature’s flight quickly increased the gap between them. Any relief she might have felt was stamped out when the occasional shadow flickered beneath her, displaying an enormous shape looming overhead. Its bulk was also no shield to the icy breeze which blasted her into numbness as they hurtled through the night. Weightless within the steely grip of its talons, Raegan could do nothing but hang, frozen into limpness, and wait. She screamed herself hoarse but gave up when they reached the ocean: what was the point?

  Suddenly a familiar row of lights appeared. They were approaching Ramsey Island. The most enormous lump formed in her throat and she was overwhelmed with longing to be tucked up in her bed, or eating crumpets at Bridey’s table. These little things, things she’d taken for granted, had never seemed more precious. She might never have them again.

  Yet – weren’t they coming closer? The island was taking shape, and the creature had not changed course. In fact- weren’t they slowing down?

  They were. Soon they were alongside the main house; Raegan wondered whether to scream for help, and peered desperately into the windows as they flashed past, searching for her grandparents. But the creature knew where it was going, and swooped round to the side, continuing confidently toward a brightly shining light at the top of the house. It was an open window. They were not slowing down enough, though; the window was looming closer and closer – they were going to crash–

  At the last moment, the creature let go, and Raegan was flung through her bedroom window with dizzying speed. Crashing down onto her hands and knees, she skidded along the wooden floor and collided with the wall on the other side, just missing the wardrobe.

  Breathing painfully, she forced herself up, up, grabbing clumsily onto bits of furniture. Her body felt more bruised than it had ever been in her life, but she had to prepare for the next onslaught. She could not allow herself to think that it was finally over.

  And then the world gave way. For suddenly, before her eyes, stood Con. He had hoisted himself through the window with the agility of a man half his age. Drenched with sweat, he wore only a t-shirt and jeans. A crescent of brown feathers clung to his chest.

  It was too much. Raegan’s legs could no longer hold her. She swayed on the spot and slid down the wall. Darkness licked at the edges of her vision.

  ‘Head between your knees,’ distantly, she heard Con’s thick irish brogue. ‘Deep breaths. Hold on, Raegan. You’re safe now.’

  His hand on her arm jolted Raegan back to reality, and she pushed away sharply, backing into the wall in her haste. ‘Don’t.’ she snapped. ‘Get away from me.’ Black spots swam before her eyes, and she fought the urge to be suddenly and violently sick.

  Con’s hands were outstretched in a pacifying gesture. He took a few steps back to perch awkwardly on the edge of her rose-pink counterpane. When he spoke again, his tone was deliberately soothing. ‘Raegan, you’ve had quite a time of it. And I need to hear it all. And you’ll be wanting to ask me some things, I know that. But you’re bleeding, lass, and shaking like a leaf. You should have a hot shower, and let Bridey take a look at your lip, and then-‘

  ‘No.’ Raegan’s voice was thick. Her lip, fresh blood oozing over the original scab, was swelling rapidly. But her tone left no room for argument.

  ‘Raegan-‘

  ‘Didn’t you hear me? I haven’t had “quite a time of it”, Con.’ The last word was spat from tightly clenched lips. ‘Marie’s dead. I found her. But then I expect you already knew that. Then someone found me. One of the men we met last night - except I don’t think he’s just a man, but I then I guess you knew that, too. He was going to kill me. So no, I don’t want to know “some things”. I want to know everything. And you are going to tell me.’ She didn’t wait for an answer as she took a shallow, agitated breath; her lungs made a wheezing sound, and she winced slightly at the pain.
‘We’ll talk now.’

  The long silence that followed crackled with tension as both wondered where to begin.

  ‘What are you?’ She said finally.

  His response was swift and simple. ‘A shape shifter.’ Con did not falter when Raegan’s eyes widened to the point of popping out. He merely waited patiently until she had digested this enough to form a reply.

  ‘And you flew me here.’

  ‘Yes. My preferred form is an eagle.’

  ‘Preferred… form?’

  ‘I could shift into other creatures, but it would take a lot of effort. I have been one with the birds for many years; it is second nature to me now.’

  ‘But how…?’ Her voice trailed away as, at that very moment, a ray of light bounced off the surface of the glass pendant. She froze. ‘Did – was this-‘

  ‘How I found you? Yes.’ Con leant forward, his voice measured. ‘You felt it burning, did you not?’

  ‘When Christian…whatever he was… came closer. And also, it glowed. But I didn’t notice that until the end.’

  ‘Did you notice anything else about it?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Take it out now. Look at it, carefully.’

  Her hands were still very cold, but the pendant was comfortingly warm to the touch. Warily, with one eye still on him, Raegan lifted it close to her face. She looked up sharply.

  ‘The beads! Before, the beads were equally spread, almost, half on one side and half on the other. Now they’re nearly all at the bottom.’ Without thinking, Raegan began to shake the little hourglass, but the beads were fixed solid once more. There was no movement.

  ‘In an ordinary hourglass, this would mean that time had nearly run out.’ His words hung on the air. Something inside Raegan awoke.

  ‘My dreams…’ The memories washed over her now. ‘They’ve been full of hourglasses. Every last one. Night after night, ever since I arrived here, I’ve been dreaming about hourglasses. I couldn’t remember before…’