To Claim A Crown Book Two: The Winter Harbinger (Complete)

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Ash

I sit up in my bed. It is as cold and stiff as marble. I am in bed alone. The windows and curtains are open. There is a cold wind blowing furiously causing the windows to rattle. Snow is falling in the room. It's dark in the room and my vision is hazy. I swing my feet off the bed and the fox is sitting back straight, tail tucked and watching me intently.

'Hello again Mr Foxy.'

I crouch in front of him and scratch behind his ears. He tilts his head.

'Hello again harbinger.'

'It's cold. Am I alone?'

'Never. But now you are. Here you are. I know something about you.'

I smile down at him. 'What do you know about me?'

He stands and stretches on all fours. 'You're hungry. Come harbinger.' He trots out the room and I follow closely behind him.

Out of the bedroom the passageway on the outside of the bedroom is bare. There's a large hole in the ceiling and the full moon is full and bright shining on my face. The fox stops at the top of the stairs and he looks back at me.

'Come harbinger,' he urges and I walk briskly to catch up with him. My feet are bare and bloody. They are numb and do not hurt, and seeing them does not cause me to panic. I step down the stairs and there is snow falling quickly all around me.

It covers my arms and shoulders. It sits lightly on my hair and it falls onto my shoulders with every step down the stairs. I rub it off my arms and as I do it smears and stains my arms. I look down at the fox.

'Is this snow?'

'Ash. Your home is ablaze.' The fox continues his trot from the bottom of the stairs and I follow him into the kitchen. He settles just in front of the fridge, sitting back down, back straight and tail tucked.

I step in front of the fridge and pull it open. There is a gust of frozen air that settles icy cold against my feet. The fridge is stacked with full blood bags. I reach out and take one. I look down at the fox and he nods.

I rip open the top off and draw it to my lips, sucking on it. It's contents pool into my mouth. Sweet and cold. My stomach grips tight then releases in a series of motions. I gulp down the red liquid. It sends tingles through my arms and legs. Shoots of pleasure and relief. I feel myself sigh as the empty bag drops onto my feet.

'Another,' the fox instructs and I comply.

The bag is empty and lying at my feet before I've even realised that I've opened it.

'Another,' he says, his voice growing loud and distorted. 'Another, harbinger, another!'

I reach into the fridge to retrieve another bag. My hands tremble as I reach forward and from each fingernail a large painful claw is protruding. I flex my hand and turn to face the fox. He is standing again, bearing his teeth, tongue showing.

'Another, another, another, another,' he chants loudly and his chanting grows louder. Too loud. I reach up and the movement is slow and exaggerated. I cup my hands over my ears, my claws digging into my skin. Blood drips from the cuts. I can feel it run down my neck and onto my spine. I feel myself fall to my knees. My knees land painfully onto the kitchen floor.