“But there was only one other person that knew that we were heading for the Light House,” I told him. “And that was Coanda. Why would he kill Kayla when it was his idea to take her there in the first place?”
“What about Isidor?” Potter asked. “I’ve always thought that guy was a bit weird.”
“Isidor?” I breathed. “Never.”
“That’s just what I don’t get,” Potter said. “There’s been something wrong with the guy ever since we got here. He’s been moody and distant – he’s hardly said two words to anyone. Isidor is the one who found Kayla’s body. He was the one who came staggering from the woods smothered in Kayla’s blood and no one suspects a thing? It’s like the kid is fireproof or something!”
“But he wouldn’t have murdered Kayla,” I said.
“Neither would I,” Potter said razor quick. “But that hasn’t stopped everyone from pointing the finger at me. I wasn’t the one sniffing her dead body.”
“What do you mean?”
“I watched Isidor bury Kayla from the shelter of the trees,” Potter explained. “At first I thought he was kissing her goodbye or something, but then I realised he was sniffing her dead body. Now why would he go and do a thing like that?”
“I don’t know,” I said thoughtfully.
“Whatever the reason,” Potter said, “There’s something wrong with that kid.”
“I still don’t think he murdered Kayla,” I told him.
“Someone did and it wasn’t me,” Potter insisted.
“I believe you,” I said, looking at him. “But what are you going to do now?”
“Hang back,” he explained. “I’m going to follow you from a distance. This Elias Munn, whoever he might be, is close and I reckon he wants to get to the Dust Palace as much as you do.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in him – just like Father Christmas,” I reminded him.
“Being framed for a murder you didn’t commit gives you a different perspective on things,” he said. “Now you go and I’ll watch your back, I won’t be far away. I’ll follow you to the Dust Palace, that’s where I think this Elias Munn will reveal himself to you.”
“And what happens if he does?”
“Then we finish it,” Potter said. “We finish him.”
“And then what?” I asked, taking Potter’s hands in mine.
“What do you mean?”
“Will we get some time together?” I asked, looking up into his black eyes. “What I mean is, we have spent our whole time on the run so far. It would be so nice to…you know…go on a proper date or something. I’d like to get to know you, for you to get to know me. All I really know about you is that you have a tendency for WHAM songs! I don’t know what your favourite food is, your favourite movie…I don’t know anything about you.”
Taking my face gently in his huge hands, Potter leant close and said, “I’d love to go on a date with you, Kiera Hudson, but for that to happen you’re gonna have to choose the Vampyrus over the humans, because if you don’t, I’m dead.”
Then, before I had the chance to say anything, he kissed me softly on the mouth, stepped into the shadows beneath the trees and was gone.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The others were waiting for me by the burnt out embers of the fire. It was still dark, the Light House had yet to complete its circuit for the night. The embers smouldered angrily and a thin line of smoke trailed up amongst the stalagmites.
Luke glanced at me as I re-entered the camp, then looked quickly away. Isidor stood, ashen-faced and tired-looking, his crossbow in his hands. He fixed me with a stare, but unlike Luke had done, he didn’t look away.
“You took your time,” Coanda grumbled at me, eager to get going. “What were you doing back there?”
“Saying goodbye to Kayla,” I said, and I couldn’t bring myself to look at Isidor.
“Let’s get going,” he said, turning as if to leave the camp.
“Go where?” Isidor asked him.
“To the Light House,” Coanda said as if it should’ve been blatantly obvious to him.
“What’s the point?” Luke asked. “Kayla’s dead. The mission has changed. I think we should head straight for the Dust Palace.”
“No,” Coanda shot back at him. “Elias Munn has agents there ready to send out his signal. Kayla might not be with us anymore, and you’re right, the mission has changed, but if we can’t intercept the messages, then we will kill those who are planning to send it.”
“I think Luke is right,” I cut in. “Potter told me that going to the Light House was suicide.”
“And when exactly did he tell you these words of wisdom?” Coanda sneered, his clear blue eyes clouded with distrust.
“When I told him about your plan,” I explained. “He said -”
“I’m not interested in anything he had to say,” Coanda barked at me. “Potter’s not to be trusted.”
“But if Potter is Elias Munn, or some kind of traitor like you believe him to be,” I snapped back, “Then won’t he be expecting us to head for the Light House?”
“Not without Kayla,” Coanda went on. “He wouldn’t believe we have the balls to go and attack his agents there. He’d expect us to go running to the Elders with our tails between our legs. But that ain’t my style, Hudson. I don’t shy away from a fight.”
“So I’ve heard,” I muttered.
“What did you say?” Coanda asked, jutting his chin in my direction.
“Nothing,” I said back.
“Then let’s get going,” he growled, turning his back on me and marching away from the camp.
With his head bowed forward, Isidor slowly set off after him. Luke was next to leave the camp. “So you are just going to go along with him?” I asked Luke.
Ignoring me, he continued after Coanda. I trotted after him, and taking Luke by the arm, I said, “How do we know we can trust Coanda? He could be leading us into a trap.”
Luke prised my fingers from his arm, and looking at me he said, “I thought I could trust you and Potter once, now I don’t know who to trust anymore.”
“Luke,” I breathed, not sure what to say next.
But before I’d had the chance to say anything, Luke said, “Kiera, do me a favour and leave me alone for a while.”
I watched him walk away, his shoulders slumped forward, and I hated myself for hurting him. But I couldn’t take it back now, even if I wanted to and I wasn’t sure that I did. I disliked myself even more for feeling that way.
The four of us walked through the night in silence. We reached the top of the mountain where it flattened out into a hard-panned surface. It was so hard and arid that it was covered in deep groves and cracks. Just like the ground Potter and I had raced over to reach the canyon, the ground was an orange-red colour and was covered in a fine ash. Did it ever rain here? I wondered. And I doubted that it did. But nothing would have surprised me about The Hollows or so I thought.
Just as I began to consider the possibility of rain falling in this new world I had fallen into, it started to snow. I stared, mesmerised up into the dark as giant white flakes began to seesaw down towards me. They covered the ground ahead, laying a white carpet before us.
“Snow?” I gasped in wonder.
“Ash!” Coanda grunted.
“Ash?”
“We’re nearing the Light House,” Coanda said, and it was as if his voice had taken on a tone of reverence. “The lake of lava that it floats on blisters and bubbles at such temperatures that almost everything it touches burns, sending up clouds of ash.”
“Almost everything?” I asked him.
“Except the Light House,” he said. “No one knows why it hasn’t eroded into the lake – no one truly understands its power.”
“Look at that,” Isidor said, short of breath, pointing into the distance.
I looked in the direction he was pointing and drew a deep breath. The horizon glowed – in fact it pulsated like a sunrise seeping from the ground. The sky in front of us burnt crimson, pink, and gold. The light splayed across the night like electric fingers. Ash flew up into the air like giant flakes of glistening ticker tape. But the light rose quicker and brighter than any sunrise I had ever seen.
With my forearm across my eyes, I said to Coanda, “Where has the light come from so quickly?”
“We’re close to the Light House and it’s turning towards us,” he seemed to roar in excitement and awe. “C’mon, we don’t have time to admire its beauty!” And he was off, racing across the hard-panned ground towards the light.
Without question, we followed him. As we grew near, I noticed what looked like a black splinter running the length of the light. With my eyes almost shutting against the glare and my skin starting to prickle with heat, I could see that it wasn’t a crack in the light at all, but the Light House. Just as Potter had described it to me, the Light House was a needle of rock that towered out of the Earth’s core and up into the night. It was narrow and wizened-looking, like a decrepit spine that had had its flesh picked from it.
As we drew nearer, the light grew brighter, and the heat more intense. My skin prickled and beads of sweat rolled from my forehead and onto my cheeks. The ground before me shimmered with heat rays and the horizon looked as if it were bending back and forth, melting in front of my very eyes. Bending forward, we ploughed through the falling ash, which was now knee-deep and hot to the touch. It sparkled like the burning embers of a fire. We walked in a line, Luke to my right, Isidor and Coanda to my left. Then, the night or was it now day, was filled with a crackling, hissing, and spitting sounds.
Raising one of his bony hands into the air, Coanda ordered us to stop. “This is as far as we go.” He looked down at his feet which were covered in ash, and I almost screamed.
