Find the truth in his lies, she remembered, as her breath began to puff out in thin vapors.
“Im Dana!” she shouted. “Im Dana Steele, you bastard from hell, and youre not going to win this one.”
His laughter chased her down the wide corridor where doors swung
open, slammed shut withbulletlike snaps. The mist was sneaking along the floor, added a hideous glow to the dark and curling ice around her feet. The sweat sliding down her back and temples went clammy with cold as she stumbled into a maze of hallways.
Breathless, she turned in circles. There were dozens of corridors now, and each seemed to stretch for miles like some mad dream.
He was changing the story, she realized. Adding his own flourishes to confuse her. And doing a damn good job.
“Choose. His voice whispered inside her head. Choose unwisely, you might tumble off the edge of the world, or rush toward a pit of fire. But stand, only stand and yield, and all this will be no more than a dream.”
“You lie.”
“Run and risk your life. Surrender and save it.” “Choose,” he said again, and she felt the hot silk of the scarf wrap around her throat.
Horrified, she clawed at it, raked her own skin with the frantic swipes of her nails. She was choking, fighting the illusion of the strangling cloth as the blood roared in her head like the sea.
Then suddenly she was free, and there was only the single corridor leading to the last staircase.
Tears leaked from her eyes as she ran for it, dragging herself up by the banister as her injured knee gave out under her.
She threw herself at the door, yanked at the knob with slippery hands. Her breath sobbed out of her burning lungs, scored her abused throat when she stumbled out into the silver light of the moon.
She was at the top of the Watch, high above the valley, where light glowed against the dark. People, she thought, were tucked away in those houses. Safe and warm. She knew them, and they her. Friends, family, a lover.
All so far away now, beyond her reach. Beyond her world.
She was alone, and there was no place left to run.
She slammed the door closed, scanned the stone parapet for something to brace against the door. If she could keep the killer on the other side until day broke…
No, not the killer. Kane. It was Kane.
She was Dana, Dana Steele, and what chased her was worse than a killer.
She pressed her back against the door, using her weight as a wedge. Then she saw shed been wrong. She wasnt alone.
The cloaked figure walked in the shower of moonlight, one hand, with its glitter of rings, skimming along the low stone wall. Her cloak streamed out in a wind that made no sound.
The phantom of the Watch, she thought, and closed her eyes for a moment of peace. The ghost. Jordans ghost.
“Hes coming.” She was amazed how calm she sounded with a vengeful god or mad killer behind her, and a spirit of the dead in front. “To kill me, or stop me, or take my soul. It all comes to the same thing in the end. I need help.”
But the figure didnt turn. She only stood, looking down at the forest where two hundred years before, love had killed her.
“Youre Jordans. Youre Jordans creation, not Kanes. In the book you helped, and the act set you free. Dont you want to be free?”
But the phantom said nothing.
“Kates dialogue,” Dana murmured. “I need Kates words. What are they?”
As she dug for them, the door burst open, throwing her forward onto the stone.
“She cant help you.” Kane ran the scarf through his hands as he stepped out. “Shes only a prop.”
“Its all props.” She scrambled backward like a crab. “Its all lies.”