Chapter One
As night fell, the cold moon hung high in the sky. The bright moonlight fell on the ancient castle on the edge of the city, casting a mysterious silver veil around it. Emily stood on the balcony, looking at the forest in the distance, and felt a chill rising from the bottom of her heart. Since moving to this castle, her life has become bizarre and mysterious. The cold wind in October swept across her bare shoulders, bringing a shudder. Emily subconsciously wrapped her woolen shawl tightly around her, but she couldn't feel any warmth. This castle seems to be always cold, just like its mysterious owner Lucas Black, exuding an inaccessible atmosphere. "Miss Emily," suddenly, a low voice sounded behind her, "You'll catch a cold if you're still outside so late." She turned around and saw Lucas standing at the balcony door. The moonlight outlined his tall figure. He was wearing a dark silk shirt, and the collar vaguely revealed his strong chest. The amber eyes flickered strangely in the darkness, as if they could see through her soul. "Mr. Black," Emily whispered, trying to hide the trembling in her voice, "I'm just admiring the moonlight." Lucas took a step forward, but suddenly stopped. Emily noticed that his body stiffened instantly, and his nostrils fluttered slightly, as if he was sniffing something. His expression became solemn, and a glimmer of wildness flashed in his eyes, but was quickly suppressed. "Please go in," his voice was hoarser than usual, "It's not safe here." Just then, a cold night breeze swept across the balcony, bringing a faint smell of rust. Emily saw that Lucas's fingers were almost pinched into the stone railing, and his knuckles were white. She couldn't help but take a step back, her heartbeat accelerated. "I thought this castle was the safest place," she whispered, "after all, you are here." Lucas let out an almost inaudible growl, "Some danger, Miss Emily, is much closer than you think." His eyes looked unusually sharp in the moonlight, "especially on a full moon night." Suddenly, a wolf howl came from the distant forest, shrill and long. Emily was surprised to find that Lucas' pupils shrank in an instant and turned into vertical pupils like a beast, but the fleeting change made her wonder if it was just an illusion caused by the moonlight. Just then, a cold breath passed by her from behind, accompanied by a chuckle. Emily turned around and saw only a dark shadow flashing in the corner of the balcony. When she looked back again, Lucas had come to her side, with a hand gently on her shoulder. "I'll take you back to your room," he said, with an unquestionable commanding tone in his voice. Emily noticed that his palms were surprisingly hot, in sharp contrast to the chill of the castle. Walking in the dark corridor of the castle, Emily could feel Lucas' presence, he walked behind her like a silent guardian. Moonlight poured in through the Gothic stained glass windows, casting mottled shadows on the floor. "Good night, Miss Emily," Lucas whispered in front of her door, "Remember, no matter what sound you hear, don't leave the room tonight." "Why?" Emily asked subconsciously. Lucas was silent for a moment, his eyes looked deep and dangerous in the moonlight, "Because the moonlight tonight is too beautiful, it will always wake up something that shouldn't wake up." When the door closed behind her, Emily leaned against the door, her heartbeat still alarmingly fast. She could hear Lucas's footsteps gradually fading away, but she seemed to hear the sound of wings flapping outside the window. She walked to the window and looked out through the glass. In the moonlit courtyard, she saw a figure standing by the fountain. The man looked up at her window, and the moonlight illuminated his pale marble face - it was Draco, with a mysterious smile on his lips and a dangerous light in his eyes. When Emily blinked, his figure had disappeared, as if he had never appeared. Emily lay trembling on the bed, listening to the wolf howling outside the window. She knew that she had fallen into a world full of dangers, and this was just the beginning. On this moonlit night, her fate was closely linked to two mysterious and dangerous beings, and there was no turning back.
Chapter Two
In the dead of night, Emily lay in bed, the faces of Lucas and Draco appeared in her mind. She could not resist the deep attraction, but she also knew that she was caught in a dangerous vortex. She knew that the confrontation between the two men was a life-and-death hostility, and she was just a pawn in their war. A corner of her heart reminded her to escape, but the deeper desire pulled her to stay in this mysterious castle, looking forward to the unknown encounter.
Just as she was about to fall asleep, a slight knock on the window interrupted the silence. Emily opened her eyes, and the moonlight poured into the room through the curtains, making the corners of the room particularly dark. She sat up subconsciously, trembling slightly and walked to the window. When she opened the curtains, a figure was standing in front of her, cold and elegant.
It was Draco.
"Sorry, I scared you, Emily." His low voice was frivolous and indifferent, as if every word revealed his unfathomable darkness. His eyes were like two flames in the abyss, locking onto her with an irresistible force.
"How... are you here?" Emily's heartbeat quickened, and her hands unconsciously clenched a corner of the curtain. She knew she should be scared at this moment, but Draco's unique charm made it hard for her to resist.
Draco did not answer her question, but slowly approached, lowered his head and whispered in her ear: "You know why I'm here, Emily. You've never really been afraid of me, right?"
The moment he approached, she smelled the cold breath on him, as if it came from the night a thousand years ago. Her breathing gradually became rapid, but she did not retreat, but was locked by his eyes, as if her soul was also attracted to him.
"Draco... we can't do this." Her voice was weak, but she did not retreat at all, as if even she herself was struggling with contradictions.
"You don't belong here at all, Emily. Staying here will only put you in deeper danger." Draco gently lifted her chin, with a smile on the corner of his cold mouth, that smile was both gentle and dangerous, "But if you want to know the real darkness, then come. I will take you to see everything."
At this moment, the door was pushed open, and Lucas' figure appeared at the door like a shadow. His face was gloomy, and his eyes were burning with anger. It was his possessiveness and anger that he could not hide. He walked towards Draco step by step, his hands clenched, his muscles tensed, as if he was going to pounce on and tear the enemy in front of him in the next second.
"Draco, let her go." Lucas' voice was low and threatening, like an enraged beast. It was the first time Emily saw him so out of control, his eyes were like a ball of unextinguishable fire, revealing uncontrollable anger and possessiveness.
Draco smiled slightly, released Emily's chin, and looked at Lucas provocatively. "Don't you understand yet? She doesn't belong to you. The savagery of the wolf tribe is nothing but a bondage to her, and I can give her true freedom."
"The 'freedom' you mentioned will only make her fall into darkness. You don't understand what true protection is." Lucas sneered, his eyes as sharp as an eagle. He slowly stepped forward, blocked Emily, and protected her behind him. That was his attitude as the wolf king, firm and unshakable.
Emily was sandwiched between the two, feeling her heartbeat speed up, as if breathing became difficult. These two completely different forces intertwined and collided in front of her, making it impossible for her to decide which side to choose.
Draco raised the corners of his mouth and slowly took a step back, his eyes still on Emily. "Emily, one day you will find that he can't satisfy the desire in your heart. And I am your true home."
As soon as the voice fell, Draco's figure disappeared into the night, as if he had never appeared.
Lucas looked at the empty room, his fists gradually loosened, but the anger and worry in his eyes remained. He turned around and looked at Emily softly, but his eyes still flashed with contradictions and forbearance.
"Are you okay?" He asked in a low voice, with a trace of undisguised concern in his voice.
Emily nodded, but her heart was in turmoil and it was difficult to calm down. She knew that she had fallen too deep. She could not let go of these two men easily, nor could she easily resist them. A complex emotion surged in her heart, which was a dangerous and fatal attraction.
"Lucas, I..." She wanted to say something, but lost her words when she met his eyes.
"Don't get close to him." Lucas' voice was low, with a hint of pleading and warning, "I know you feel confused, but Draco is not what you think. He will only drag you into the darkness, and I won't let him hurt you."
Emily just looked at him silently, and a touch of uncertainty gradually rose in her heart. She knew that this was not just a war, but a contest of feelings and desires. In this dangerous triangle relationship, she has gone too far and can never turn back.
Chapter Three
Emily stayed awake all night. The wind outside the window blew through the woods, making a low moan, as if the whole castle was whispering in her ear. She curled up in bed, recalling Draco's cold smile and Lucas's deep eyes. Two completely different attractions stirred in her heart, making her lost on the edge of danger and desire.
When the sky was slightly bright, she made a decision. She had to figure out what she wanted, the wildness and protection of the wolf tribe, or the mystery and temptation of the vampire. She got up and walked out of the room, walked through the deserted corridor, and came to the door of Lucas's study.
The door of the study was slightly open, and a whisper came from inside. Emily stood outside the door and pricked up her ears to listen.
"She is innocent, Lucas." A low and gentle female voice came from Lucas's sister, Leila. Emily had heard rumors about her. Leila was the wisest prophet in the wolf tribe and could always see fragments of the future.
"I know, Leila." Lucas' voice was hoarse, as if he had struggled all night, "but I can't control myself, I can't suppress my desire for her. I'm afraid that if she stays with me, she will only be swallowed by my darkness."
Emily's heart trembled, and she raised her hand to push open the door.
"Lucas." Her voice was abrupt and firm in the silent room.
The two turned around and saw her standing at the door with a hint of determination in her eyes. She walked slowly towards Lucas, looked up at him, with a hint of determination and inquiry in her eyes.
"I know you protect me, but I'm not a fragile child." Her voice was calm and firm, "I need to know the truth. Why are you always so hesitant? And why is Draco so persistent in approaching me?"
Lucas' expression froze for a moment, his eyes wandering on her face, as if he was weighing whether to tell her everything. Finally, he took a deep breath, as if he had made up his mind.
"Emily, the fate of our werewolves is usually determined at birth. The wolf tribe has a unique ability to perceive its partner. When we find that person, we will feel an attraction that cannot be ignored... and you are my destined partner." Lucas spoke in a low voice, with pain and desire flashing in his eyes.
Emily's heartbeat accelerated, and thousands of emotions surged in her mind, both shocked and confused. She never thought that she would become his destined partner, and his possessiveness and protectiveness of her turned out to come from this ancient bond.
She asked softly: "What about Draco? Why is he so obsessed with me?"
Lucas's eyes became more gloomy, and there was a hint of anger in his eyes. "Draco's tribe never believed in fate. They prefer to dominate their own future. And he believes that as long as he possesses you, he can destroy me and the traditional beliefs of the wolf tribe. So, he is not sincere to you, but to weaken my power."
Emily's heart suddenly tightened, and a hint of anger and loss surged in her eyes. However, she also felt a little unwilling, as if she was just a tool in this struggle, being fought over and torn by the two, and she had no right to control herself.
"So, Lucas, are you sincere? Is it just fate for me?" There was a hint of disappointment in her voice, and her eyes became cold.
Lucas was stunned, as if he was hurt by her question. He was silent for a moment before speaking: "Emily, I can't deny the existence of fate, but I can't ignore my feelings for you." He gently held her hand, his eyes full of affection and desire, "Whether it is fate or something else, I am willing to give up everything for you."
Just then, a slight sound came from outside the window. Emily turned back suddenly and saw a pair of dark red eyes flashing outside the window, like a flame in the dark, and the familiar cold breath startled her heart.
It was Draco.
He stood outside the window, sneering at them, as if everything was under his control. He knocked on the window lightly, his voice cold and full of provocation: "I don't think it's possible to talk about 'betraying' everything here, Lucas. You can't protect her because she will eventually come to me."
Lucas' eyes immediately became cold and dangerous. He stood in front of Emily, glared at Draco outside the window, and growled in a low voice: "Stay away from her, Draco. You can't force her to choose darkness."
Draco smiled slightly, his eyes full of evil confidence. He raised his eyebrows at Emily, as if everything was under his control. "Dear Emily, you will find that the bright world cannot satisfy your desire. And darkness - is your destination." After he finished speaking, his figure instantly disappeared into the night.
The room returned to silence, but the air was filled with tension and uneasiness. Emily looked at the empty darkness outside the window, feeling both fear and desire in her heart. She could no longer deny Draco's attraction to her, and the danger and mystery made her heart beat faster.
Lucas noticed her hesitation, and a trace of pain and uneasiness flashed in his eyes. He gently held her hand and whispered, "Emily, don't get close to him. His darkness will devour you and make you lost in the endless night."
She didn't respond, but just looked at him silently, her heart full of complicated emotions. She knew that she could no longer simply withdraw from the two of them. Her fate had been drawn into an uncontrollable vortex, and the only thing she could do was to follow her heart and touch the unknown darkness.
Chapter Four
As autumn deepened, the forest surrounding the castle donned a cloak of gold and crimson. Yet Emily felt none of the season's warmth. Since that night's revelation, her mind had been in constant turmoil, with Lucas's truth and Draco's temptation intertwining like two serpents in her thoughts, leaving her breathless.
That evening, Emily found herself alone in the castle's library, searching through ancient tomes for any mention of werewolves and vampires. As she focused on a yellowed manuscript, the air suddenly turned cold. Looking up, she found Draco standing across from her, his appearance as silent as shadow.
"Seeking truth, my dear Emily?" Draco leaned elegantly against the bookshelf, wearing a deep purple silk shirt that made his skin appear even paler. "But you know, written accounts are often one-sided."
Emily instinctively stepped back. "Why do you always appear like this? It's unsettling."
Draco chuckled softly, moving toward her with fluid grace. "Because I enjoy seeing you startled. It makes you even more enticing." His fingers traced her cheek, the cold touch making her shiver. "Lucas told you I'm merely using you, but did he mention that his fate is actually a chain binding him?"
Emily froze. "What do you mean?"
"The werewolves' so-called destined mates are nothing but constraints in their bloodline," Draco's voice carried a hypnotic power. "They're forced to love someone, forced to protect them. Isn't that tragic? While I..." his gaze deepened, "I choose you because I'm truly drawn to you."
A low growl suddenly echoed from the doorway. Lucas stood there, his eyes now golden, filled with rage. "Step away from her, Draco!" His voice carried an unmistakable threat.
Instead of retreating, Draco pulled Emily closer. "Why so angry, Lucas? Is it because I spoke the truth, or because you fear she might choose me?"
The tension in the air grew thick enough to cut. Emily could feel the energy between the two men threatening to tear the room apart. Lucas's body trembled as he fought to control the beast within.
"Enough!" Emily suddenly shouted, "What am I to both of you? Some trophy to be won?" Her voice carried both anger and hurt.
Both men froze. Pain flashed across Lucas's eyes, while Draco's expression turned contemplative.
Emily pushed away from Draco and walked toward the door, but paused beside Lucas. "You say I'm your destiny, but have you considered my feelings?" Her voice was soft but accusatory. "And you, Draco, if you truly cared for me, you wouldn't use me as a weapon against him."
She hurried from the library, and only when she reached the corridor did her tears finally fall. She didn't know whom to trust - Lucas, chosen by fate, or Draco, who chose her himself? More importantly, she began to question whether she truly understood her own heart.
As night fell, Emily stood on her balcony. Wolves howled in the distant forest, while somewhere in the castle, she thought she heard the flutter of bat wings. Everything reminded her that she stood at the crossroads between two worlds, and she had to make a choice.
Then she noticed items on the balcony railing: a rose as black as night with a blood-red sheen - Draco's mark. Beside it lay a wolf fang necklace, a werewolf protection charm, obviously left by Lucas.
Emily gently touched both items, her internal conflict growing stronger. She knew that choosing either would alter her destiny forever. But more importantly, she needed to understand what her heart truly desired.
As moonlight bathed the castle grounds, Emily realized that her decision wouldn't just be about choosing between two men - it was about choosing what kind of life she wanted, and more importantly, who she wanted to become.
Chapter Five
The following days in the castle were filled with an unbearable tension. Emily found herself constantly caught between shadows and silence, between warmth and cold. Every corner seemed to hold either Lucas's protective presence or Draco's seductive whispers. The weight of their attention was becoming increasingly suffocating.
One particularly cold morning, Emily discovered a mysterious leather-bound book in the library's restricted section. Its pages contained ancient prophecies about the eternal conflict between werewolves and vampires. As she read, her hands trembling, she found something that made her blood run cold.
'When the moon bleeds red and the night grows teeth, a choice will be made that breaks the ancient cycle. A mortal's heart shall tip the balance, bringing either eternal darkness or salvation to both races.'
"Interesting reading material," Leila's voice suddenly came from behind. Lucas's sister moved like a ghost, her silver eyes holding centuries of wisdom. "I've been waiting for you to find this."
Emily closed the book carefully. "Is this... about me?"
Leila's expression remained enigmatic. "The prophecy speaks of a mortal who stands between our worlds. But prophecies, dear Emily, are like rivers - they show the destination, but the path taken is always your choice."
"What happens if I choose wrong?" Emily's voice wavered.
"There is no wrong choice, only consequences," Leila replied, her voice gentle but firm. "But I must warn you - the blood moon approaches, and with it, a moment of truth that will change everything."
Before Emily could ask more questions, a commotion erupted from the castle grounds. They rushed to the window to see Lucas and Draco facing each other in the courtyard, their postures tense with barely contained violence.
"You've crossed the line, Draco," Lucas's voice carried up to them, filled with fury. "You dare to mark our territory?"
Draco's laugh was cold and mocking. "Territory? This stopped being about territory the moment she arrived. Or are you afraid she's already choosing me?"
Emily watched in horror as Lucas's form began to shift, his muscles rippling beneath his clothes. The morning sun caught his golden eyes, now burning with primal rage. Draco's own transformation was more subtle - his pale skin taking on an otherworldly sheen, his movements becoming impossibly fluid.
"Stop!" Emily's voice rang out across the courtyard. Both men froze, their attention snapping to her window. "This has to end!"
She turned to rush downstairs, but Leila caught her arm. "Be careful, Emily. The blood moon is three days away. Under its light, both races lose control of their darker natures. And you..." she paused meaningfully, "you will be at your most vulnerable."
When Emily reached the courtyard, the tension was thick enough to choke on. Lucas immediately moved to her side, his protective instinct evident in every motion. But it was Draco who spoke first.
"My apologies for the disturbance, dear Emily," his voice was silk over steel. "But perhaps it's time you understood the full scope of what you're involved in." He pulled an ancient medallion from his coat. "This belongs to your grandmother. She wasn't just any woman - she was a guardian, keeper of the balance between our races."
Emily's world tilted. "My grandmother? But she died when I was young..."
"She was murdered," Lucas cut in, his voice heavy with old pain. "By those who wanted to destroy the peace between our kinds. And now, as her descendant, you inherit her role - and her enemies."
The revelation hit Emily like a physical blow. Suddenly, everything made more sense - the mysterious circumstances that led her to the castle, both men's intense interest in her, the prophecy. She wasn't just caught between two supernatural beings; she was part of an ancient legacy.
"The blood moon comes," Draco said softly, his eyes locked on Emily. "And with it, powers long dormant will awaken. You'll need to choose not just between us, Emily, but between two paths for both our races."
As if in response to his words, clouds gathered overhead, casting strange shadows across the courtyard. Emily felt something stir within her, something old and powerful, like a sleeping giant finally beginning to wake.
Lucas moved closer, his warmth a stark contrast to the chill air. "Whatever you choose, Emily, know that my protection isn't just about fate or duty anymore. It's about-"
But before he could finish, a piercing scream cut through the air. All three turned to see Leila collapsed at the castle entrance, her silver eyes wide with terror as she pointed at the sky.
"It's coming," she gasped. "The blood moon... it's coming early. And with it, they're returning - the ones who killed your grandmother. They're coming for Emily."
In that moment, as Emily looked between Lucas and Draco, she realized that her choice might not be about love at all - it might be about survival.
Prolog
Prolog
Det var mudret og blæsende ved floden. På sådanne tidspunkter ville Lily ønske, at de havde en hund, som hun kunne kaste pinde efter, selv om Store Kat og Lille Kat sikkert ikke ville være enige. Hun ønskede sig en sød lille hund, en mops eller noget i den retning. Hun gik foran mor og far og fantaserede om den mops, som de ville købe hende. Hun ville kalde den Sweetie. Den ville bære et lyserødt halsbånd og vinde præmier på Crufts, og Lily ville være i tv, stolt og smilende ved siden af sit berømte kæledyr.
Lily var dybt optaget af sine tanker og var knap nok klar over, at hendes forældre var bagud. Hun hørte et skrig og kiggede tilbage op ad stien, langs flodbredden. Far stod og stirrede på vandet med åben mund som en fisk. Mor havde hænderne på sine hofter.
De skæinHdGtegs igYenR.
Mor stak en finger i retning af far, hvis ansigt var blevet lyserødt. Lily indså, at han ikke kiggede ned i vandet, men på kanten af bredden, hvor der lå noget metallisk.
Alle hendes håb om, at dette år skulle blive bedre end det sidste, forsvandt. Rasende og med svært ved at synke eller endda trække vejret, trampede Lily ind i træerne, hvor floden bugtede sig, så hun ikke kunne se sine forældre, og de kunne ikke se hende. Hun var træt af at se dem, og hun ønskede, at hun kunne forsvinde, forvandle sig til en fugl og flyve væk.
Et øjeblik forestillede hun sig, at hun hoppede ned i floden og druknede sig selv. Mor kunne ikke engang svømme, og far var også en uduelig svømmer. De ville ikke kunne redde hende, og de ville være så kede af det, så kede af det.
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Hun tog en beslutning. Så snart hun havde gjort det, skyndte hun sig ind i de buske, der adskilte flodbredden fra vejen.
Hun hoppede, som om nogen havde sneget sig ind bag hende og råbt "Buh!
"Hvad laver du?" hviskede hun.
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"Lily? Hun hørte mor kalde hendes navn. "Lily, hvor er du?
Men hun kunne ikke svare. Hun havde en mundkurv i munden og stærke arme holdt hende stille. Mors skrig forsvandt i det fjerne, mens de stærke arme bar hende væk.
Kapitel 1 (1)
Kapitel 1
Jeg krydsede grænsen til Wales kort efter klokken fem, solen stod lavt og dæmpet på en skiferfarvet himmel. Det regnede, men det gjorde ikke noget. For da jeg nåede toppen af en bakke, kom dalen nedenunder til syne. Og den var pragtfuld.
Jeg bremsede bilen, så jeg kunne nyde det hele. Berwyn-bjergenes flade toppe indrammede en grøn verden: brogede marker med får, smukke bondehuse med udsigt over bølgende marker, træer, hvoraf nogle stod stolt alene, mens andre var tæt sammenpressede. Og gennem det hele flød floden Dee.
DXeXtu ÉvaSrG hter hjemNme.
Hvorfor havde jeg ventet så længe på at komme tilbage?
Når natten faldt på ville det hele se meget anderledes ud. Så ville jeg sandsynligvis savne Londons aldrig slukkende lys. Men nu skruede jeg vinduet ned og lod den kølige luft rense mig. Jeg var sikker på, at her ville jeg endelig kunne skrive igen. Genfinde min stemme, min inspiration. Hvis jeg kunne gøre det, var jeg sikker på, at alle mine andre bekymringer ville opløses som snefnug, der falder i vand.
Så det var med stor optimisme, at jeg styrede min bil, en hvid Qashqai, ned ad bakken ned i dalen. GPS'en førte mig forbi den lille by Beddmawr - min hjemby, selv om den næppe virkede bekendt - og ud på landet ad smalle, muddersprængte veje, der gik langs kanten af en tæt skov. Jeg tog et forkert sving og endte næsten på en eng, hvor der græssede får, og blev tvunget til at bakke op. Det sidste stykke var uden for satnav'ens muligheder. Jeg slukkede for den og steg ud af bilen og benyttede mig af en pause i regnen. Forfatternes tilflugtssted måtte være tæt på. Til sidst kravlede jeg op på taget af bilen - som jeg havde købt med min første royaltybetaling, og som jeg virkelig burde behandle bedre - og der stod den på en lav bakke uden for engen.
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Noget flagrede i grenene over mit hoved, hvilket forskrækkede mig og næsten fik mig til at miste balancen. Men jeg kastede endnu et blik på huset, inden jeg klatrede ned, og smilede. Det var det perfekte sted at skrive en uhyggelig bog.
Tilbage i bilen kørte jeg op ad en lang indkørsel, der var omkranset af træer med bare lemmer. Der var en stor lade til venstre for huset og, bemærkede jeg, et sommerhus, der gemte sig bag hovedbygningen som et genert barn, der kiggede frem bag sin mors skørt.
Huset var endnu mere imponerende på tæt hold. Det var solidt. Et sted, der havde stået her i, jeg gættede på, to hundrede år. De eneste tegn på modernitet var en tv-antenne på taget og en børnegynge af plastik i haven. Røgen steg op fra en høj skorsten. Jeg havde lyst til at se mig godt omkring, men jeg var træt og sulten, og desuden ville der være masser af tid til at udforske senere.
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Hun var på min alder - i begyndelsen til midten af fyrrerne - med langt kastanjebrunt hår og markante kindben. Hun var tynd og bleg, den slags person, som min mor ville sige ville blive blæst væk af en hård vind, men attraktiv, en kvinde, som ville få mig til at kigge to gange, hvis jeg fik øje på hende på en bar. Hun var iført jeans og en grøn sweater med en slags kashmirwrap over. En poncho? Hun havde et par mørke briller på, som hun justerede, da hun kom hen imod mig.
"Lucas?" sagde hun. "Jeg hedder Julia.
Jeg gav hende hånden, som var overraskende kold. Selv om hendes smil var indbydende, formåede hun samtidig at se trist ud. Der var noget i hendes grønne øjne, et ekko af smerte, der fik mig til at stoppe op og holde fast i hendes hånd et ekstra øjeblik. Måske fornemmede hun, at jeg studerede hende og forsøgte at læse hende, og hun blev forretningsmæssig og spurgte, om jeg havde meget bagage.
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Noget flagrede i grenene over mit hoved, hvilket forskrækkede mig og næsten fik mig til at miste balancen. Men jeg kastede endnu et blik på huset, inden jeg klatrede ned, og smilede. Det var det perfekte sted at skrive en uhyggelig bog.
Tilbage i bilen kørte jeg op ad en lang indkørsel, der var omkranset af træer med bare lemmer. Der var en stor lade til venstre for huset og, bemærkede jeg, et sommerhus, der gemte sig bag hovedbygningen som et genert barn, der kiggede frem bag sin mors skørt.
Huset var endnu mere imponerende på tæt hold. Det var solidt. Et sted, der havde stået her i, jeg gættede på, to hundrede år. De eneste tegn på modernitet var en tv-antenne på taget og en børnegynge af plastik i haven. Røgen steg op fra en høj skorsten. Jeg havde lyst til at se mig godt omkring, men jeg var træt og sulten, og desuden ville der være masser af tid til at udforske senere.
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Hun var på min alder - i begyndelsen til midten af fyrrerne - med langt kastanjebrunt hår og markante kindben. Hun var tynd og bleg, den slags person, som min mor ville sige ville blive blæst væk af en hård vind, men attraktiv, en kvinde, som ville få mig til at kigge to gange, hvis jeg fik øje på hende på en bar. Hun var iført jeans og en grøn sweater med en slags kashmirwrap over. En poncho? Hun havde et par mørke briller på, som hun justerede, da hun kom hen imod mig.
"Lucas?" sagde hun. "Jeg hedder Julia.
Jeg gav hende hånden, som var overraskende kold. Selv om hendes smil var indbydende, formåede hun samtidig at se trist ud. Der var noget i hendes grønne øjne, et ekko af smerte, der fik mig til at stoppe op og holde fast i hendes hånd et ekstra øjeblik. Måske fornemmede hun, at jeg studerede hende og forsøgte at læse hende, og hun blev forretningsmæssig og spurgte, om jeg havde meget bagage.
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Kapitel 1 (2)
En rødhåret kat kom ind i køkkenet med højt hævet hale, og jeg bøjede mig ned for at klappe den.
"Det er Chesney," sagde hun, mens katten spurgte og gned sit ansigt mod mine knoer.
"Han er smuk. Så ... er det kun dig og Chesney?
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"Jep," svarede Julia, og der var gået så lang tid, at jeg var holdt op med at forvente et svar. "Kun os. Og de andre gæster, selvfølgelig.
Jeg kiggede dumt rundt, som om de måske gemte sig i køkkenskabene.
"De er alle sammen gået på pubben," sagde hun. "Det er blevet lidt af en tradition, når de er færdige med arbejdet for dagen. The Miners Arms - den ligger et par kilometer længere nede ad vejen.
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"Jeg havde håbet at lade det stå åbent, hvis det er i orden. Jeg mener, mindst en måned.
Hendes øjenbryn skød op. 'En måned?'
'Er det okay? Jeg kan betale på forhånd.'
'Ja. ySelvWfLølgHeilgiGgC.'
'Jeg er virkelig nødt til at få min dumme bog færdig.'
Ikke bare færdig. Også påbegyndt. Men det sagde jeg ikke til hende.
Hun kiggede op og ned på mig, som om hun så mig for første gang. Til sidst smilede hun. "Det er helt fint, Lucas. Bliv så længe du vil.
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Julia gjorde tegn til mig om at gå op ad trappen først. I modsætning til den ubesmittede indretning i stueetagen var trappens tæppe slidt og tapetet skrællet i pletter. Der var tegn på, at nogen på et tidspunkt havde været i gang med at indrette dette område, men arbejdet var blevet opgivet.
Da vi nåede op til trappeafsatsen, sagde Julia: "I er på denne etage. Jeg var lidt skuffet over, at jeg ikke ville være øverst oppe i huset, men jeg ville ikke brokke mig.
'Din er den anden dør til venstre,' sagde Julia bag mig.
Jeg KtDog fxató óiR dKørFhåSncdtaOgdet,C Jog hhun råbnte: "HIJkBkqe dwehn xderÉ!
Jeg trak min hånd tilbage, som om håndtaget var rødglødende. "Undskyld, du sagde...
"Jeg mente tredje dør. Tredje dør. Værelse seks. Hun havde hånden på brystet, trak vejret hårdt og havde lyserøde pletter på kinderne. Hun bemærkede, at jeg stirrede på hende, og tvang et smil frem. 'Undskyld, det værelse er ikke gjort klar endnu. Det er lidt rodet.
Hun gik forbi mig og skubbede døren til værelse 6 op. Jeg fulgte hende ind.
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"Jeg er ked af, at der ikke er noget eget badeværelse," sagde Julia. De lyserøde pletter på hendes kinder var forsvundet, og hun var rolig igen. 'Badeværelset er lidt længere nede ad gangen.'
Hun stillede sig ved siden af mig ved vinduet, så vi stod over for vores spejlbilleder i glasset. Det var mørkt udenfor nu. Ingen stjerner eller måne. Bortset fra nogle få lys, der var spredt ud over landskabet her og der, var det som om verden uden for dette hus var ophørt med at eksistere, da solen gik ned.
"Jeg vil vise dig rundt, når du har haft mulighed for at pakke ud, men du kan enten skrive her eller i stuen eller endda i sommerhuset.
"Fi_nt.
Hun tog en værelsesnøgle frem og lagde den på skrivebordet. "Du har stort set lov til at styre hele huset, bortset fra ... må jeg bede dig om ikke at gå ned i kælderen. Det er ikke ... sikkert.
"Nå?
"Trappen skal repareres.
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"Kun et par måneder. Jeg er ikke rigtig kommet i gang endnu, ikke rigtigt. Jeg mener, jeg ved, at mange skrivecentre har gæsteforfattere, kurser osv. Jeg vil organisere alt det på et tidspunkt. Indtil videre er dette bare et stille og roligt sted, hvor folk kan komme og få hovedet ned i gear.
"Det er præcis det, jeg leder efter. Jeg forklarede ikke, at der var en anden, mere specifik grund til at vælge netop dette tilflugtssted, der ligger så tæt på det sted, hvor jeg tilbragte min tidlige barndom. "Er du selv forfatter?
"Mig? Nej.
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"Gysere.
Der var det: et svagt udtryk af modvilje. En reaktion, som jeg var vant til. "Og er dette ... din første bog?
"Nej, jeg har skrevet tonsvis, hvoraf de fleste har solgt et sted tæt på nul eksemplarer.
"DDRe .fle_stseP?
"Øhm. Den sidste gik ret godt. Den hed Sweetmeat.
Hun så tom ud, og jeg må have virket skuffet, for hun sagde: "Beklager, jeg er ikke den store fan af den type bøger. Jeg mener, jeg har læst et par Stephen Kings, men jeg er en total tøsedreng.
Jeg smilede. Det sagde folk altid sådan til mig.
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"Fint. Tak.
Hun lukkede døren og lod mig sidde alene ved mit midlertidige skrivebord. Jeg stirrede på det sted, hvor hun havde været. Hun var mystisk. En kvinde med en historie. Jeg glædede mig til at finde ud af, hvad det var.
Kapitel 2 (1)
Kapitel 2
Der lød en larmende lyd fra underetagen: en drønende mandestemme, fodtrin, en smækkende dør. De andre gæster var kommet tilbage fra pubben.
Forfatterkolleger. Jeg blev instinktivt nervøs, men irriterede mig så selv. Jeg var ikke kun kommet her for at få hovedet ned og arbejde, men fordi jeg havde brug for menneskeligt selskab. Jeg havde tilbragt for meget tid alene, siden jeg mistede Priya. Så meget tid alene, at jeg var begyndt at tale med naboens kat, når hun kom på besøg, og at bestille pakker fra Amazon, bare for at jeg kunne se et andet menneskeligt ansigt. Jeg var sikker på, at kureren var begyndt at undgå mig, fordi han var træt af at føre en samtale med den skøre fyr i lejlighed 3.
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Der var tre af dem, en mand og to kvinder, der sad omkring et ovalt bord. De kiggede alle op, da jeg kom ind.
Manden sad yderst til venstre. Han var sidst i trediverne, havde høj pande og et pænt trimmet skæg. Jeg genkendte ham, men kunne ikke helt placere ham. Næsten på hans skød sad en ung blond kvinde med blege øjenvipper og en lille mund. Smuk, på den der engelske-rose måde, men ikke min type. På den anden side af bordet sad en kvinde i halvtredserne med en dyr frisure og kiggede på en iPhone.
Manden gjorde tegn til mig om at sætte mig ned.
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"Og jeg hedder Karen," sagde den ældre kvinde. "Karen Holden.
Jeg havde hørt om Max Lake, selvfølgelig havde jeg det. Han var en forfatter af litterær fiktion, som man for ti år siden talte om som en slags enfant terrible. Nu brugte han, så vidt jeg kunne se, det meste af sin tid på Twitter, hvor han forsøgte at få enhver uretfærdighed i verden til at handle om ham. Jeg kunne ikke genkende Suzis navn. En førstegangsforfatter? Hun og Max sad meget tæt på hinanden, de rørte næsten hinanden. Jeg var sikker på, at jeg havde set Max nævne sin kone i et interview - ja, han bar en vielsesring - så det ville være en svag skandale, hvis han og Suzi lå sammen.
Jeg præsenterede mig selv, da jeg satte mig ned.
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"Ja, den gjorde det godt. Jeg hadede at tale om den slags ting. Det fik mig til at krybe helt ind til benet.
'Jeg hørte, at den skulle blive filmatiseret. Med Emma Watson?
'Tja. Måske. Men nok ikke med Emma.
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"En gyserroman, er det?" spurgte han. "Min agent siger altid til mig, at jeg skal skrive noget genremæssigt, en thriller eller en kriminalroman måske, mellem mine rigtige bøger. Noget, der kan hjælpe med at betale regningerne. Han grinede. "Men jeg ved ikke, om jeg kan få mig selv til at gøre det.
Inden jeg kunne svare, kom Julia ind i rummet med en tallerken fyldt med rundstykker og et fad med smør. Der stod allerede et par flasker mousserende vand på bordet. Hun skyndte sig ud og kom tilbage med fire skåle med grøntsagssuppe.
"Det dufter dejligt," sagde Max og skænkede sig selv et glas vand.
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De tre andre udvekslede et vidende blik, mens Julia sagde: "Ah, undskyld. Dette er et tørt hus.
"Det er derfor, vi går på pubben hver aften," sagde Max. 'For at få vores rationer.'
Et tørt hus? Det var ikke nævnt på hjemmesiden.
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Jeg sagde nej, vand var fint. Skuffelsen må have været tydelig, for da Julia gik, lænede Karen sig frem og sagde med et konspiratorisk blink: "Jeg har en flaske gin på mit værelse, hvis du bliver desperat senere".
Mens vi spiste vores forret, spurgte jeg Karen og Suzi, hvad det var for noget, de skrev. Jeg var fristet til også at spørge Max, for at pirre hans ego ved at lade som om, jeg ikke havde hørt om ham.
"Jeg skriver også genreting," sagde Karen med et spidst blik på Max. "En krimiserie og en urban fantasy-serie.
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"Selvudgivet?" spurgte jeg Karen, og hun nikkede begejstret.
'Åh ja. Jeg kunne ikke tåle, at folk blandede sig i mit arbejde.
'En redaktør, for eksempel,' sagde Max.
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Jeg havde en forfærdelig fornemmelse af, at de var ved at forfalde til en kedelig diskussion om traditionel versus selvudgivelse, så jeg afbrød dem ved at spørge Suzi, hvad hun skrev.
Hendes stemme var blød. 'Jeg arbejder på min første roman. Det er en .... en picaresque, der foregår på et universitet ...
"Der er ikke en varulv i sigte," sagde Max.
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"Max hjælper mig med den," sagde Suzi. Hendes ansigt blev lyserødt. 'Med at skrive, mener jeg.'
Karen grinede. 'Hvis du siger det, kære.'
Suzi blev reddet fra at rødme yderligere, da Julia kom med vores hovedret, en gedeosttærte med kartofler og salat. Vi spiste i stilhed i et par minutter. Suzi virkede stadig forlegen over det, hun havde sagt. Karen blev ved med at kigge på sin telefon.
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"Måske kan du lære mig at skrive en bog om en måned," sagde jeg.
"Nå?
Jeg sukkede. "Min deadline er midt i maj, og alt det, jeg har skrevet indtil nu, er ... ja, det er noget lort. Det er ikke skræmmende. Det er kedeligt. Kedeligt som bare fanden. Jeg er nødt til at starte forfra.
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Hun fik det til at lyde så gennemførligt. Problemet var, at jeg ikke havde nogen historie i hovedet. Jeg havde knap nok en idé. Jeg var for flov til at fortælle det til nogen, fordi det lød som et førsteverdensproblem, men jeg var blokeret. Værre end det - jeg var lammet. Snart ville alle finde ud af, at min bestseller var en tilfældighed, og jeg ville blive afsløret som en svindler og forsvinde tilbage i uvished, før man kunne sige "one-hit wonder".
Kapitel 2 (2)
Som jeg sagde, var det et problem i den første verden. Men det var mit problem.
En uge før havde jeg ringet til min agent Jamie i panik og fortalt ham, at vi ville blive nødt til at give forskuddet tilbage, at jeg var færdig, færdig.
Han sagde, at jeg skulle slappe af.
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"Det ved jeg ikke. En drøm.
Han stønnede.
'Nej, virkelig. Jeg vågnede en morgen med billedet af væsenet i mit hoved og en kvinde, der græd, fordi hendes datter var forsvundet. Ideen kom fra min underbevidsthed. Jeg lavede en smertefuld lyd. 'Det er så frustrerende. Jeg mener, jeg har altid skrevet. Det har altid været let, siden jeg var barn.
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Hvor som helst. Det fangede min opmærksomhed. Selv om Sweetmeat foregik i et opfundet samfund, var den i høj grad baseret på det sted, hvor jeg voksede op i Nordwales. Det grønne, tomme landskab, den ubarmhjertige regn. Mørke skove og lave bjerge; floden, hvor en dreng fra vores skole druknede. Og kedsomhed - det var en vigtig ingrediens. Der var intet at lave, så jeg fandt på noget. Jeg startede med at tegne og skrive tegneserier og gik derefter over til noveller. Jeg opfandt hele verdener for at underholde mig selv.
I London, hvor jeg havde boet siden begyndelsen af tyverne, var der for meget, der kunne stimulere mig på overfladen, men ikke nok til at vække min dybere fantasi. Jeg havde brug for mørke, men boede i en by, hvor lyset altid skinnede.
Det var på tide at gå tilbage til mørket.
"UHlvmad xt&æMn$k.eWr d*u Npå?* bhXaÉvdeS AJamise' spuSrAg&t.
'At det er på tide at tage hjem,' havde jeg svaret.
Efter middagen, mens Max og Suzi gik ovenpå for at "arbejde på sin roman", gav Karen mig en rundvisning i huset. Jeg vidste ikke, hvor Julia var gået hen.
"Værelserne er alle opkaldt efter prominente walisiske forfattere," påpegede Karen. "Spisestuen er Roberts Room, efter Kate Roberts.
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De fleste af værelserne havde åbne pejse eller brændeovne, så lugten af brænderøg gennemtrængte huset. Den kastede mig tilbage til min barndom, til lange, søvnige søndag eftermiddage, en sort-hvid film i fjernsynet, lytning til de 40 bedste film i radioen, fingeren på pladeknappen. Jeg savnede ikke disse dage, men mindet stimulerede en nostalgikirtel, en fornemmelse af, at livet fløj alt for hurtigt forbi.
"Har du lyst til en cigaret? spurgte Karen med et drilsk glimt i øjet.
"Åh, så gå da bare.
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"Max er en forfærdelig litterær snob," sagde hun. "Og en kæmpe narcissist. Men han er et ganske godt selskab.'
"Suzi synes at synes det.
"Godt for hende. Hun sænkede sin stemme. 'Selvom hun er lidt underlig . Hun bad mig om at læse et par sider. Jeg mener, jeg er en kvinde af verden, jeg skriver selv ret stærke ting. Men hendes var foruroligende. Et par, der smurte hinanden med dyreblod og brugte det som seksuelt glidemiddel. Ulækkert, faktisk. Og der er en forfærdelig del med en død baby i en fryser. Hun rystede.
'XW'o'w.'G
'Og hvad angår vores litterære ven, så hørte jeg ham i telefonen med sin kone forleden dag, hvor han skændtes om penge. Om hvorvidt han skulle spilde de sidste penge på et skrivekursus. Jeg tror, han er i en svær tid.
"Hans situation bliver endnu mere klistret, hvis hans kone finder ud af det med ham og Suzi. Jeg rynkede panden. "Nogle mennesker sætter bare ikke pris på det, de har.
Karen løftede et øjenbryn.
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"Heller ikke mig. Hun gestikulerede over landet omkring os. "Ved du, at dette sted var en skifermine for hundrede år siden?
"Interessant.
Hun smilede. "Du lyder som min datter, når jeg prøver at fortælle hende om min ungdom.
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"Det er kælderen," sagde hun. Hun lænede sig fremad og hviskede med en skummelt uhyggelig stemme. "Vi må ikke gå derned.
'Ja, det har Julia fortalt mig. Noget med at trapperne er usikre.'
Karen kiggede sig over skulderen og sænkede stemmen til en hvisken. 'Jeg hørte, at en gæst engang forvildede sig derned, og Julia flippede ud og smed dem ud.'
"DViCrkeóliRg?G
'Uh-huh. Hun er lidt intens. Jeg kan godt lide hende, men jeg ville nødigt komme på hendes dårlige side. Har du lyst til at tage en lille gin med mig?
Jeg tjekkede mit ur. Klokken var kun kvart over ni. Men jeg var nødt til at være disciplineret, hvis jeg skulle gøre mig håb om at få skrevet denne bog, så jeg sagde godnat til Karen og gik ind på mit værelse.
Jeg standsede uden for den anden dør på gangen og bemærkede, at den i modsætning til de andre værelser ikke havde noget nummer. Der var værelse 5 ved trappen, så denne dør, og så værelse 6, som var mit. Da jeg stod i stilheden, hørte jeg en lyd inde fra det nummerløse værelse, som en radio, der blev skruet lavt ned. Jeg kiggede mig omkring for at sikre mig, at der ikke kom nogen, og trykkede forsigtigt mit øre mod det malede træ.
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Jeg flyttede min position, og gulvbrædderne knirkede under mig. Pludselig stoppede sangen, og jeg skyndte mig ind på mit værelse, varm af skyldfølelse, som en spion, der blev taget på fersk gerning.
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