Page 143 of Heartless

She thought of the drawing. His crumpled body. The pool of blood. The hat lying limp beside his severed head.

Her attention darted to Raven. As always, he watched her. Silent. Waiting.

Could he really become a murderer? Could he really hurt Jest?

It was too much of a risk.

‘You can’t follow me,’ she said. ‘Not any of you.’

Jest shook his head. ‘You’re not going alone.’

‘I have to.’ She tore away from Hatta and reached for Jest’s hand, squeezing it tight. ‘It will be all right. Those drawings – that’s all they are. Odd little drawings from odd little girls.’

‘Cath—’

‘I know. It’s too much to risk your life, but I can go. I’ll go and I’ll save her, and then I’ll find the well again. I’ll find the Sisters. I’ll come to Chess and find you. But I . . . I can’t just leave her.’

‘Fine, but if you go, I go.’

‘No, Jest. If you’re there, I won’t be able to think of anything but that awful picture. I need to know you’re safe.’ Her heart stammered. ‘Or – fine. You stay here and wait for me. Don’t go through to Chess yet, just wait and stay safe and I’ll come back. I will come back.’

‘I can’t—’

She threw her arms around him and silenced him with a kiss, digging her hands into his hair. His hat tumbled off, landing on the tiled ground with a dull thud. His arms drew her closer, melding their bodies together.

‘You won’t come back.’ Hatta’s haunting words cut through the desperation in her body, the need for this kiss to not be their last, to not be goodbye.

She pried herself away and glared at Hatta. ‘Haveyouever stayed after you heard the Sisters’ prophecy?’

His lips thinned. ‘Never.’

‘Then how could you possibly know it’s real? How could you possibly know what will or won’t happen?’ She turned back to Jest, unwilling to hear whatever excuse Hatta would make next. She lifted Jest’s hand and pressed a kiss into his palm. ‘Stay here,’ she said. ‘Wait for me.’

Pulling away, she faced the massive gate, wrapped her fingers around the bars, and pushed her way through.

CHAPTER 46

HER FEET SANKinto the muddied ground of the pumpkin patch. Mist swirled around her, clinging to her skin. The patch felt like a place that had never known light or warmth. She wished she’d kept Hatta’s coat, wished she hadn’t let her emotions carry her away, even if he had been insufferable at the time.

To her left she could see the enormous pumpkin with its carved-bar windows. Mary Ann’s cries had quieted, but Cath could still hear her sobs carrying over the otherwise-silent patch.

To her right was the cottage, this time without the smell of wood smoke and the welcoming light behind the windows. It seemed deserted.

She could no longer see Peter in the distance.

Picking up her skirts, Catherine trampled through the overgrown vines, hurrying towards the pumpkin where Mary Ann was being kept prisoner, casting terrified glances over her shoulder at every noise. The shrieking wind. The rustle of leaves. The squish and slurp of her nicest boots pulling from the mud.

The Sisters’ refrain haunted her thoughts.

Peter, Peter, pumpkin eater,

Had a pet and couldn’t feed her;

Caught a maid who had meant well –

What became of her, no one can tell.

She tripped suddenly and fell, sprawling into a mud puddle. Her hands sank to her wrists, filth coating the front of her dress. Cath sat panting for a moment, feeling the hectic thrum of blood in her veins. Her teeth chattered. Pushing back on to her knees, she glanced around again and tried to catch her breath.

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