I Am the Wild (The Night Firm #1)- Karpov Kinrade Page 0,80

The bird doesn’t leave the nest.

I sigh, my energy dissipating, the cold creeping back into me.

“I’m sorry,” I say, lowering the memory catcher, my eyes blurry as I look at Liam. “I thought I could save you. I thought—”

In the memory, the bird turns toward the manor, and I gasp with astonishment. Somehow, the image of the Dracula’s home, though at least a mile away, is crystal clear.

“Photoreceptive cones,” I mumble, laughing to myself, my eyes filling with tears.

“What are you going on about?” asks Liam.

“Photoreceptive cones in the retina,” I repeat, louder, the strength back in my voice. “Birds have far more than humans. Some can see four or five times further. I read it once.”

Liam smirks.

And the memory continues.

A figure walks toward the Manor, moving briskly. They wear a long brown coat. Their hair is a mess of dark curls.

It can’t be…

And yet, Jerome Van Helsing enters the Dracule Manor on the night of the murder. Several moments later he steps out, his clothing soaked in blood.

My hands shake at the sight, and I almost drop the crystal. Instead, I lose my balance and Liam catches me, steadying me, and gently lowers the bird to the ground. It jumps into its nest, sitting calmly near its eggs.

“We need to get this back to the courthouse.” I turn, looking over the snow-covered fields below, and a stone sinks in my throat. It will take a long time to climb back down the cathedral and even longer to ride back to the courthouse. There’s no way we’ll make it back before the trial is over. No way, unless…

“Go,” I say, pushing the Memory Catcher into Liam’s hand. “You’re faster than me.”

He pauses, still holding me with his other hand. I expect him to argue, to spew warnings about my safety. Instead, he meets my eyes, a fierce determination in his gaze, and nods once slowly.

And then, he leaps off the cathedral.

The earth cracks where Liam lands, kicking up dust and snow, and leaving veins of black in the stone. He bends his knees to absorb the impact, and stands up without hesitation, red hair wild in the storm. He doesn’t take the carriage. He just runs, faster than I have seen anyone run before.

I turn away from the dizzying sight and crouch, staying low as I climb back down the statue and make my way under the great bell, looking for the stairs. Without Liam’s fire to guide me, it’s near pitch-black inside. I almost reach the stairs when a warm orange glow spills out from their depths. For a second, I freeze, bewildered, and then I realize someone is coming, carrying light.

My first thought is Sebastian must have come looking for us. But then I see the man step onto my floor, blazing-torch in hand. The man from my nightmares.

“You found something, didn’t you,” says Jerry, his face half in shadow, the other half cast in red angry light. “A memory.” These are not questions. Just statements.

“I need to return to the courthouse,” I say, trying to step around him.

He blocks the path, the heat from his torch too close to my face, too hot on my skin.

“I can explain,” he says, brown coat billowing in the wind. “I received a letter. Signed by Mary. She asked for my help. That’s why I was there that night.”

I take a deep breath, trying to keep my emotions in check. Though I find it hard to look at him, I meet his eyes, looking for sincerity. For kindness. He does not have these things.

“Where is this special letter then?” I ask.

He bows his head. “Not here.”

“Then go get it.”

“I can’t. It’s gone. Went missing.”

I snicker, unable to contain my sneer. “Well that’s very convenient for you, isn’t it?”

“It’s the truth,” he says, and for once, he looks broken, weak and fragile and human like I have never seen him before. But that doesn’t mean he’s earnest.

“Then prove it to the court,” I say, pushing past him.

He grabs my arm, hard enough to bruise. “They’ll never believe me. Not after your testimony. You need to withdraw your statement. Say you were manipulated. Say you were confused. I don’t care. Say you were wrong.” He growls, and the sound from his mouth is nothing human.

“I wasn’t wrong,” I say. “The things you did to me were horrific. And you will never do them to anyone else again.”

He snarls, grabbing me by the neck and yanking me close, so close the stench of his