“You’re okay.” Clare leaned over him, her face above his. Dark shadows framed his closed eyes. His lips were blue. “I’m here. You’re going to be okay.”
Clare turned towards the pot in the fire. It wasn’t quite boiling, but steam rose from the surface. She picked up a fresh towel and dipped it into the water, heating it, then draped it over Dorran’s throat, where the warmth would reach his core faster. She held it there until it started to cool, then returned it to the pot to heat again.
Please, this has to be enough.
Images of frostbite ran through her mind. She wanted to wrap Dorran’s hands and feet in warm towels, but Bethany’s sharp voice rang through her mind. She’d heard that lecture many times: heating extremities too quickly would cause more damage. The best she could do for him was to get his core warm first.
Shivers racked Clare. The fire’s heat kissed her skin, but her own clothes were still damp. As she left the heated towel on Dorran to warm him, Clare shuffled back and quickly undressed down to her underwear. She wrapped one of the gowns around herself, tied it tightly, then took the wet towel away from Dorran’s throat and dabbed the skin dry.
It wouldn’t help to cover him yet. The fire’s glow was warming him better than the blankets could, so she left him exposed to it. But his right side, the one facing away from the fire, was left cold.
Clare shook out the blankets then carefully lowered herself to the rug beside Dorran. She wrapped the blankets around her own back, then shuffled forwards to share her body heat.
Embarrassed but too afraid of what would happen if she didn’t, Clare undid the dressing gown and pressed herself against him. His arm lay along her stomach, the cold fingers resting on her thighs. She resisted the urge to move away from his chilled body and curled forward, resting one leg against Dorran’s and placing her hand on his chest. She could feel him breathing under her fingers.
She closed her eyes and whispered against his shoulder, “Please don’t leave me.”
He was still cold, but she thought she was starting to feel traces of warmth beneath his skin.
Clare didn’t mean to fall asleep. But as a storm moved in over Winterbourne and the patter of hail began to drift through the stone walls, she found she had no more strength to keep her eyes open.
Finally giving in to the weariness, she let the noises of the house flow around her. The crackling fire. The sharp pipe of the wind funnelling through gaps in the roof. And the clattering as the windows rattled, which sounded far too much like overgrown fingernails tapping to be let in.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Hmm.” Clare squinted her eyes open. Straight ahead, her fire roared. More wood had been fed into it since she’d fallen asleep, and the heat was enough to not only warm her, but most of the dining room as well.
The curtains had been drawn over the windows, blocking the view of the gardens. Only the window with the broken curtain rod was uncovered. The storm battered snow against the glass, the white flecks half-hidden by fallen night. The dining room lights had been turned on, and the room felt safe and comfortable.
Clare tilted her head back. Dorran sat by her head, wearing the gown she’d brought him. His long legs were stretched towards the fireplace. He looked like himself again. Symptoms of exhaustion lingered in the lines around his mouth, but the colour had returned to his skin, and the alertness was back in his eyes. His hair was nearly fully dry, and he’d pushed it back from his forehead, leaving the sharp angles of his face clear. He smiled down at her. “Hello. How do you feel?”
“Hey. I’m good.” Relief ran through Clare, burning her throat. She tried to sit up but stopped as she realised her dressing gown was still undone. Dorran had draped a blanket over her to cover her. She hurried to tie the gown, heat blooming across her face. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep. Or for Dorran to wake while she was still lying next to him.
“I owe you thanks.” Dorran turned away while she fastened her gown and leaned towards the fire, stoking the coals. He either hadn’t noticed her embarrassment or was pretending he hadn’t. At least she could always count on him to be a gentleman. “I would not have made it back inside without you or survived the cold without your help.”
“I didn’t do anything special.” Clare shuffled onto her knees and wrapped her arms around herself.
“On the contrary.” Dorran moved back to sit at her side, close enough that their shoulders would have brushed if she leaned towards him. A small smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “You were incredible.”
Clare suddenly felt too warm. Dorran held a bowl towards her, filled with water from the pot by the fire. She hadn’t realised how thirsty she was until then. She drank until she felt sick. As she lowered the bowl, she realised Dorran was still watching her. His lips parted a fraction, as though he were on the edge of speaking, but he exhaled and looked away instead.
A vicious gust of wind screamed around the house. The windows shook, their frames clattering. Dorran’s expression darkened.
Clare felt her uneasiness return. “Is something wrong? Are you hurt?”
“No. I am fine.” He tried to smile again. “Just… attempting to reconcile myself to a world where monsters exist.”
The gust faded, and the eerie silence returned, lying thick through the house. Still fogged from sleep, Clare’s mind balked at the memory of the creatures. It felt more like a distant nightmare than reality. She closed her eyes and forced the words out. “I remembered what happened on that last day. The day you found me. I was driving to my sister’s. She has a bunker.”
Dorran inclined his head to show he was listening, but he didn’t try to interrupt her. He must have sensed how difficult she was finding it to recount her experience.
“Something happened that morning. I don’t know what, but it was all over the news. Areas were becoming uncontactable. They called them ‘quiet zones.’ Phones stopped working, Wi-Fi stopped working, and people who went into those areas didn’t come out again.” She pulled her knees under her chin and watched her toes curl on the rug. “They don’t know what it was, whether it was a war or a natural phenomenon or what.”
“So you were travelling to your sister’s to be together, to be safe.”
“Right. But on the way there, I think I entered one of the quiet zones. My phone disconnected. And then…” She took a breath and dragged her fingers through her hair. “Those things drove my car off the road. Whatever happens in the quiet zones, they were caught up in it. I guess it changed them somehow. I don’t know into what. They’re not human anymore, though.”
Dorran let the silence rest over them for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse. “Do you remember what areas were affected?”
“Lots of places. All across the world. And they were spreading fast. Unless they stopped…” The whole world will be gone.
He closed his eyes and exhaled through his nose. “While I was walking home, when I was in the forest, I thought I heard a noise. I dismissed it at the time. But it must be related.”
“I heard it too. Some sort of crackling noise. Then something that sounded like a helicopter. I don’t know if it was the military or what caused the quiet zones or something else. At least seeing the car brought my memories back.” Clare chuckled weakly. “So now we know why the phone lines are still down. And possibly why the weather has been so bizarre.”
“And what happened to the garden.”
Clare’s stomach turned. She leaned her head forwards so that her hair would help hide her face.