One clumsy step. One missed footing. It would be easy to make someone disappear over the side of the mountain.
I take a final drag on my cigarette, so hard I almost choke. Then I toss what’s left into the wind so I can grip the railing with both hands.
Inching along the steel platform, my gloves stick to the frozen metal. It wobbles, the bolts feel loose and I reel back from the edge, only now noticing how badly it’s rusted.
Tinx was right to warn us off. It’s dangerous up here.
After everything that’s happened today, I came up onto the roof to remind myself there is a world; only it doesn’t feel that way now I’m here. In less than half an hour it will be the winter equinox – the longest night of the year – and darkness is weighing in heavily.
Huddling into my jacket, I tug the zip up to my nose but it does nothing to protect me from the gale-force winds battering the observatory. It’s stopped snowing, at least that’s something, but storm clouds are gathering.
My breath is shallow, I suck in air before peering over the edge. A swoop of vertigo takes my stomach through the floor as I stare down the rock face.
Icicles hang like bats in a cave from the cable that brought us up here. I follow the line down until it vanishes, swallowed by the darkness.
Did Martyn come up here? Could he have fallen over the edge? It’s too ghastly to contemplate. Besides, there’s no evidence to suggest he’s dead.
What am I missing? I feel it’s been staring me in the face the entire time.
Today I’ve wasted hours turning in circles. When I went to find Luca, he’d vanished. Tinx said he’d suddenly come down with a stomach bug, but I couldn’t find him anywhere. Ariel cancelled our dinner, and as for Rez – he’s been acting distant since the ice bath.
He’s becoming one of them. The writing was on the wall all along – wounded, rudderless, I should have guessed she’d turn him. I steel myself against any feelings I had for him.
The wind picks up, my lungs sting. Coming up here was a stupid idea.
Casting around a final time, something bright catches my eye. A square tile of light spilling into the darkness. What is it?
It’s all the way over on the other side and the path there looks even more treacherous.
I should turn back.
Hunching into the gale, I try to protect my face while being careful where to place my feet as I stalk the curved outer glass wall, heading for the north-facing side of the observatory.
The metal walkway that wraps around the side of the building rattles and shakes as it’s buffeted by the winds. The observatory groans, straining under the intense pressure. Almost a hundred years fighting for survival in this hostile environment – I’d be exhausted too.
I feel like a toddler, all arms and legs and no coordination as I muddle through the tightly packed snow, crossing icy patches as I head towards the light.
I slip; I grip the railing tightly, the wind howling in my ears. As I draw closer, I can see it’s a skylight.
A room I never knew was there.
Who’s inside? I thought everyone had gone to bed.
My hands, they’re so numb I’m fighting to hold on. I focus on the light: if I want to look in without being seen, I’m going to have to climb up.
Using the railing as a lever, I push off, up onto the roof. The wind shoves me sideways and I flatten myself onto the glass ceiling. I hold on, trying to get purchase, spreading my body weight evenly.
This is crazy. A sudden gust of wind could take me.
I slide back down, my knees twinge as I make contact with the steel platform. I search around – now what?
Go back, Hollie, that’s what.
I quickly calculate that if I position myself far enough around but hang back and keep low, there’s a sliver of a chance I won’t be seen.
I inch towards the window, my heart shifting in my chest. Of all the stupid things I’ve done . . . I peer into the light.
A glass-topped desk, a computer, filing cabinets – it’s an office.
And inside, two people locked in an intense conversation.
Ariel and Tinx. I have the instant sensation I’m intruding on a private moment.
Ariel shifts her weight from one foot to the other, raking her hands through her hair, while Tinx eyes her warily.
What are they saying? Something heated, but it’s impossible to hear over the wind. Fuck’s sake.
Ariel turns suddenly, I think she’s about to storm out, then she picks up something from the desk.
What is it? What’s she doing?
The skin across her knuckles turns white as she grips the paperweight – made of solid glass, in the shape of a mountain – and angles the speared end at Tinx.
Christ, she’s going to hit her with it.
Instinctively, I hold my breath. Ariel winds back her arm, her eyes filled with determination.
What the hell? STOP!
The glass spear launches, propelling across the room.
Tinx cowers.
It smashes against the wall, narrowly missing her. My breath catches, the glass shatters, scattering into the corners of the room.
Tinx shrinks towards the exit while Ariel comes at her again. Head shaking, arms flailing, she’s having a full-blown meltdown. And Tinx, like the battered wife, is doing her best to appease her.
Do something! Fuck’s sake, fight back!
Tinx reaches out a hand but Ariel shrugs her off. Her eyes are wide and gleaming, her elfin features pulled back and ferocious. She reminds me of the animals she worships in her ice room. It’s a terrifying transformation. I knew it was all an act.
I can’t get any closer without being seen, but from where I’m standing it’s obvious that Ariel’s mask is slipping and it’s only a matter of time before it peels off entirely.
What else is she concealing? I need to get inside that office. There could be something that will help me find Martyn. Finally, a breakthrough.
I edge backwards, careful not to draw attention, then I turn and pick up the pace. I’m moving faster than I should on treacherous ice as I retrace my steps to the hatch.
I slip and pull myself up. Nerves jangling with fresh hope, my mind scrambling with what I’ve seen and what this could mean for my investigation. There’s a dark side to Ariel Rose. A hidden rage. She could be capable of anything, and now that her composure is crumbling, my race against time is gaining pace.
The snow has started up again and visibility has reduced to a few metres. I can just about make out the dull silver of the hatch. When I came up here, I thought I wouldn’t ever want to go back inside but I couldn’t be more relieved as my hand makes contact with the handle.
I pull on the door.
Nothing happens. It’s jammed. I try again.
It doesn’t budge.
It must be frozen. Thinking it needs a bit of elbow grease, I give it a hard tug. Still it refuses to move.
What the . . .?
With all my strength I go at it again. I yank it with so much force I lose my balance, stumble and fall. An icy wind lands on my back and all of a sudden, I have the feeling that’s been following me around everywhere – I’m not alone.
I can’t see them but I can sense their presence. The mountains, looming up from behind. Rising up, a predator stalking me from the shadows.
My throat constricts at the horrifying realization. The hatch: it’s not frozen. It’s bolted shut.
Someone’s locked me outside.