Page 23 of The Howling
And yet, so far, I haven’t seen anyone else.
I lift the dress off the hanger. Underneath there is a shift in fine linen which I consider wearing until I realise how fine it is and how much it will show.
So having donned the shift, I wrestle myself into the dress. It fits, which is a surprise, as I would have thought any female Barghest would be bigger than me. It’s fiddly, and by the time I have it on, I’m breathing heavily, but at least I’m no longer reliant on a sheet to cover me, an inherently unstable item.
No one is getting me out of this dress in a hurry. Once I’ve recovered some of my breath, I contemplate my next move.
I have a choice. I can go looking for Reavely, or I can go back to the room with the bed. I feel like I’d rather know where theBarghest is, as I’m not entirely sure if I trust my soul with him, so I make my way down the stairs and into thegreat hall.
It’s an understatement. It is avasthall. The vaulted ceiling is so high I’m amazed it doesn’t have its own weather up there. Huge banners hang down, each one in scarlet and white with a symbol of the crescent moon and a howling wolf embroidered in thick silk. The floor is of heavy slate flags polished to a shine, although they are covered in dust.
The only tracks are those of Reavely, who is leaning on the imposing fireplace, one arm raised and his head rested upon it. The great stone lintel is carved with dancing wolves. He stares into the glowing hearth until he hears the swish of my dress, turns and stares at me.
He blinks and pushes away from the fire.
A soft breeze blows over me. The scent of woodsmoke and of something else, something which has to be uniquely Reavely. A spice which somehow has my mouth watering and my body doing some strange things.
I still feel the grate of one broken rib, although a dull ache in the rest of me. The scent of Reavely makes things somehow feel better.
His eyes haven’t left me. I feel pinned like a specimen butterfly, and I rather regret putting on the dress. It feels like I’ve done something wrong.
“Wynter, at last!” A familiar voice rings out across the hall.
Instantly Reavely transforms into his were-form, growing in height and width, his dark snout appearing, along with teeth which would put a T-rex to shame. He releases a long, bloodcurdling growl.
“Lilburn?” I turn to face the little Hedley Kow who is walking towards me as if she’s about to ask me to put on the kettle.
“That one”—she points at Reavely—“left me behind.”
“Seems like you were able to get here of your own volition, trickster,” Reavely growls, keeping his were-form. “No doubt bringing the Redcaps with you.”
“Have a little faith in the Hedley Kow, Barghest.” Lilburn huffs at him. “I go where I want when I want and no one is the wiser.”
“Then why are you here?”
“I am here because this one needs me.” She reaches me and puts a hand on my arm. “As I am in her debt.”
“You are?”
Lilburn looks up at me. “You didn’t judge, and you did your job. In doing so, you freed me from a curse which bound me to Lord Guyzance for these past two centuries. Sometimes being a trickster doesn’t do you any good.”
I gape at her, she seems the last creature in the Yeavering to be the subject of a curse.
“I could not speak of it,” Lilburn says. “The curse itself meant even voicing it would have bond me closer to him. So I owe you.”
“You owe me nothing.” I put my hand over hers.
“I am a mischief maker.” She smiles at me. “The trick I played on the Faerie Lord was too much. He wanted my magic, so he took it. Cursing me until someone was prepared to see past my trickster nature.”
“The Hedley Kow is always beholden to someone,” Reavely growls. “But not my mate.”
“Wynter is your mate?” Lilburn gasps.
“I am not!” I burst out.
Both of them look at me as I take a step away, tripping over the gown I’m wearing and having to steady myself.
“So, when are you marrying her?” Lilburn says to Reavely as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
