Winterly (Dark Creatures Book 1), стр. 123
What was the matter with her? She ought to be rejoicing in her freedom, not dreading her final sight of Winterly’s wordless servant. She pressed a small kerchief to her eyes as she watched her small portmanteau being transferred from the stately carriage to the coach. The rest of her traps were to be sent to Little Snoring; it might be easier to tame a wehr-wolf in a tame place like Little Snoring than to risk the teeming streets of London.
She was interrupted from her plans of wehr-wolf rearing when the coach got underway and the red dragon emblazoned on the Winterly carriage disappeared into the darkness forever.
Goodbye forevermore. She had never really considered what an eternity might be like. Had she, at some weak moment, imagined herself at Markus Winterly’s side forever? Perhaps she had whispered that secret wish in the quiet of her room in the dark of the night, with only the moon and the stars to overhear her.
At the Coaching Inn in Durham, she awoke with tears still fresh upon her lashes. Even the weatherworn passengers that had been clinging to their seats on the outside of the coach looked far cheerier than she who had remained warm and dry within. The Red Dragon Inn (was she to be reminded of Markus at every turn?) was seething with patrons scrambling for a hasty meal before the coach departed.
Though she was ushered into a private sitting room to take her supper, her appetite was as cold as the soup and she partook of neither the ale or the undercooked beef. While the hostlers exchanged the tired horses for a fresh team of four, Emma brooded over a tapestry of a long red dragon hanging over the broad mantelshelf in the main hall. She much preferred the clatter of hooves and wheels on the cobbled courtyard, the blaring horns of new arrivals, and the raucous chatter of the main thoroughfare to the quiet of the sitting room that Winterly’s reputation and money had secured her. But it was there, in the crowded hall, that she first perceived the glancing touch of an intrusive gaze. Whence it came, however, and to which of the many faces it belonged, she could not make out. Overtired she likely was, but she was determined to keep vigilant lest the obtrusive stare prove malignant.
At length, the departure call was sounded and she repaired to the coach and to the reprieve of darkened anonymity found within. They set off with a jolt. The noise of the undercarriage reverberated through and all around her until her very eyelids were rattled shut again and again. The carriage was not but a half hour north of Durham when her eyelids proved too heavy to remain open. Even if there had been light enough to read by, she was without her spectacles and the effort of straining over each word was more trouble than it was worth. She was resigned to a long and monotonous journey wherein slumber was her only escape.
But she was soon disturbed from her sleep, not by the deep ruts in the road or perilous jostling of the coach, but by something more sinister. That gaze again, so persistent that it had roused her with its intensity. It was too dark to see beneath the hats and bonnets of her fellow passengers, but she was certain the feeling stemmed from the gentleman across from her. Indeed, it was he—the rest of the passengers, she soon discovered, were all fast asleep. Every primal cell within her flesh stiffened in alarm, somehow recognizing him for the supernatural he was.
She concentrated her glare in his direction, specifically at the shadowy smile only just discernible in the meager lamp light. What if this was a vampyre—or something worse—come to sport with her now that Winterly had relinquished his claim? Mindful of her sleeping companions, she leaned forward, addressing the stranger in an angry whisper. “Who are you?” She was unable to keep the quaver from betraying her fear.
“You wound me, Miss Rose. I should hate to think myself so unremarkable as not to warrant remembering.”
“Mr Valko?” She gasped to see the eerie flash of viridian that incandesced below the underside of his hat brim. And then it was gone.
“Ahh, I see I am not forgot.” He tipped his hat and nodded.
Emma peered hard through the gloom that separated them. Her eyesight was bad enough even in good light. But she recognized his voice at least. Emma’s shock was instantly displaced by keen revulsion. “I know what you are. I know what you did to Milli.”
He lifted his index finger and placed it against his lips, shaking his head.
“Why are you following me?” She quickly lowered her voice at the sound of a cough nearby. “What do you want?”
“I want only to protect you.”
“Like you did my sister?” If she’d possessed strength enough to rip him apart, she’d have done it right then and there.
“We never meant to harm your sister,” he said.
But the regret in his voice did nothing to quell the rabid hate boiling in Emma’s belly. “At the next coaching inn, I want you gone from my sight.”
“As you wish,” he replied with equal vehemence. “Though my staying hidden won’t change the fact that you shall still be followed. You require guarding whether you will it or no.”
“And on whose authority is my guard dog employed?”
He bristled palpably, his eyes aglow again. “You may consider it a favor to Markus that I continue my…employment.”
She gave a stiff lift of her chin, wishing he’d snuff that frightening gleam from his eyes. If one of the other passengers were to see it… “If Markus fears for my safety, why does he not come himself?”
“Did you not commit his