Dead Statues (Kiera Hudson Series Two #3)

Dead Statues (Kiera Hudson Series Two #3) Page 8

“It is but...”

Before Murphy had a chance to finish, Potter looked at me and said, “I’m coming with you.”

“No,” I said. “This is something I have to do on my own.”

“Why?”

“Why didn’t you take me with you when you went in search of Sophie?” I asked him.

“That was different,” he came back at me.

“Sure it’s different. I haven’t screwed the person I’m going back to save,” I said, turning away. Then stopping and looking back at him I added, “Did you?”

“Did I do what?” he asked, his eyes growing dark.

“Sleep with her – when you found each other again?” I whispered, tears spilling onto my cheeks and hating them. I didn’t want Potter to see me cry. He didn’t deserve to see my hurt. He had no right.

“What do you think?” he asked back.

“I guess it doesn’t matter what I think,” I said, looking at him. “Or you would’ve never gone looking for her again.”

Then, turning my back on him and the others, I set off across the field.

“Kiera,” I heard Murphy call after me.

“There is a house on the other side of this hill.

We’ll wait until this time tomorrow morning, then we’ll have to move on again. It’s too dangerous for us to stay in the same place for too long.”

Without looking back, I brushed the tears from my cheeks and went in search of my father.

Chapter Eight

Potter

“Well done!” Murphy said, turning back towards the police van.

“What’s that s’posed to mean?” I asked, the wind picking up and making the long grass bend to and fro.

“You’ve gone and upset Kiera now,” he said, lifting his leg and trying to shake the mud from his slipper.

“It wasn’t my fucking idea to go and lie to her,” I snapped in resentment. “That was yours.”

“I meant looking up your old girlfriend!”

Then turning to face me, he said, “Potter, at what point did you think that was a good idea?”

“I was desperate,” I said, remembering how lost I had felt in those first few weeks after returning from The Hollows. “You were dead – or so I thought. I needed to find out what was happening. I had no one else to turn to.”

“Yeah, you did,” Murphy grunted, giving up on his slippers which were now caked with mud. “You had Kiera. Why you feel the need to fool around when you have such a beautiful girl like Kiera in tow beats the shit out of me.”

“I haven’t been fooling around with anyone,” I barked.

“Don’t give me that crap,” he said, his clear blue eyes fixing on mine. “You were upstairs in the bedroom with that Sophie getting your pecker wet when I showed up.”

“Hey, listen!” I yelled, grabbing his arm, so he couldn’t walk away. “I didn’t have sex with Sophie, not in this world. I wouldn’t do that to Kiera – I couldn’t even if I’d wanted to, and the thing is – I didn’t want to. I’m in love with Kiera – no one else.”

“Well it’s a shame you didn’t tell her that,” Murphy said, shrugging my hand free.

“Perhaps she would’ve stayed.”

“Kiera hasn’t gone because of anything I’ve said or done,” I told him. “She went because of her father.”

“Jesus, Potter,” Murphy groaned. “I worry about you sometimes. She left because of you and that tart, Sophie.”

“Sophie wasn’t a tart,” I cut in.

“You’re very defensive about someone you couldn’t give two shits about,” Murphy eyed me.

“Look, I’m not taking the blame!” I shouted. “This is your fuck-up as much as mine.”

“How do you figure that?” Murphy frowned.

“You were the bright spark who thought it would be a good idea to keep all of this shit from Kiera, not me,” I reminded him. “It was you who said not to tell her you were back. You didn’t even break the news that you were back gently. Oh no, you had to turn up in a big white police van, with sirens screaming and lights flashing and shouting out about the Muppets. Fuck knows what the Muppets have to do with any of this!”

“It was you I was calling the Muppet!”

Murphy roared, and prodded me twice in the chest with his forefinger.

“I ain’t no Muppet!” I shot back, my chest feeling numb from where he had jabbed at me.

“Oh no?” Murphy hissed. “You could’ve fooled me. You went screaming across the roof of that train like fucking Beaker. All you needed was the bright orange hair and I would’ve never known the difference.”

“If you hadn’t noticed, we were being chased down by a pack of berserkers who wanted to tear our freaking heads off!” I roared back.

“What else was I s’posed to do?”

“You’re not meant to be drawing any unwanted attention to yourself, and here you are, running around like The Terminator on crack,”

Murphy said. “And another thing! Who’s the wolf? I thought you hated wolves!”

“I do,” I snapped back. “Letting him tag along wasn’t my bright idea. It was Kiera’s. I think Kayla’s gone and got herself all loved up!”

“What’s he like?” Murphy asked.

“Who?”

“The Wolf!” Murphy growled. “Who else did you think I was talking about numb-nuts?”

“I wouldn’t trust him,” I said.

“Why not?” Murphy asked, cocking an eyebrow at me.

“Because he’s a freaking wolf! Why else?”

“We’ll see,” murphy said thoughtfully and walked away.

As we neared the van, I could see Kayla and the wolf-boy sitting next to each other by the open doors, their legs dangling out of the back.

Both of them were watching us as we approached. Kayla looked pale, her sprinkling of pink coloured freckles standing out like a rash in the cold.

Looking at the boy, Murphy said, “We haven’t been introduced. My name is...”

“Kayla has just been telling me all about you,” Sam cut in, his voice like a soft growl. “She told me you were once eaten by wolves.”

“That’s right,” Murphy said eyeing him.

“It’s a good job for you I don’t keep a grudge.”

Then Murphy was gone, climbing back into the van behind the driver’s wheel.

“But I do,” I said, looking at Sam, knowing that most of the troubles in my life had a wolf hidden not too far behind them. I left them sitting at the back of the van. As I reached the passenger door, Kayla called out to me.

“Potter, is Kiera coming back?”

Without looking back at her, I said, “I hope so, I really do.” I climbed into the cab of the van, and swung the door shut.

Chapter Nine

Kiera

With my coat wrapped about me, and my hands thrust into the pockets, I made my way across the field, leaving Potter and the others behind me. Murphy had given me twenty-four hours to see my father and get back. I would take as long as I needed – who was he to make up the rules? How could they both have kept such secrets from me? Who did they think they were?

At twenty years old, I didn’t need them deciding what I should or shouldn’t know. I had a right to know that my father was alive here – even if Murphy said I had no rights in this pushed world.

I just wanted to see my father again, to know that he was all right, to know that he was alive. The need to push those last memories of him crying out for pain relief would be pushed aside, buried, if I could only see him again, looking well – alive.

That’s all I wanted to do; just to see him again.

Who wouldn’t want to do that if they were given another chance? How many wouldn’t want to go back and be able to say all the stuff they wished they had said to their loved one before it had been too late – before they had been taken from them? I was no different from anyone else, other than I had been given a second chance – an opportunity to see my father again. If I didn’t, it would haunt me whether I stayed in this pushed world or not. I would spend my time here like a restless spirit. How could I rest knowing that my father was out there somewhere, within reach of me? It would drive me mental. It would drive me insane quicker than the need for blood does when it comes. It would be like that itch deep inside of me, which eventually turns into a craving, a hunger that can’t be quenched until blood is washing over my tongue and cooling my throat. I had to see my father again – despite Murphy’s and Potter’s warnings.

Who was Potter to give me advice anyhow? I wondered, climbing over a wooden fence which circled the field. He hadn’t wasted any time in going in search of Sophie. Why had he done that? Because he was still in love with her, right? I didn’t care what he said, what excuses he made. The fact he went looking for her, before anyone else, said that he still had feelings for her, and I guessed he always would. Sophie was Potter’s first true love, and did we ever forget them? I couldn’t be sure – Potter was mine.

Would I be able to shirk off the feelings that I had for him so easily? Probably not. Even though he was a complete cock at times – I knew there would always be a small part of me that felt something for him. That’s what I hated, though.

He had hurt me, deceived me; and although my feelings towards him were ones of distrust and hatred, I knew that deep inside of me I was still very much in love with him. It was hard to admit that, as it hurt to do so.

On the other side of the fence, I stumbled across a narrow path cut into the grass. It spiralled downwards and away to a small crop of trees. I looked back, and the police van and the others had gone. Feeling alone now, I faced front and headed towards the trees. With the wind tugging at my long hair, I bent forward into the wind.

Had he slept with Sophie again? I wondered. What did she look like? Potter had told me deep below the Fountain of Souls, as we lay chained together, that she had been beautiful. He told me about those letters, the ones in which he had pleaded for her to come back to him. I should have seen the signs back then. For someone who saw too many things sometimes – I had been blinded by him back in those caves. That had been the first time we had made love, our hands manacled together. Had we made love though? I thought we had, but did Potter feel the same? As he had sex with me, was he thinking about me or her – Sophie?