Blood. Too much. Much too much. So much, it will lead them right to me. I tried to cover the wound with my hands, but the blood kept coming, flowing over my fingers like a river, beautiful, warm and red in it's sin. Taking the arrow out had been a bad idea. I had to stop the blood flowing or it would lead then straight towards my destination, Gemma.
I had been stupid. Overconfident. I had been so sure I was safe I had forgotten to take precaution. I had been so foolishly sure the Rakshana would never find me. . . And now, Gemma was going to pay for my carelessness.
Gemma. Perhaps going to her was a bads idea. . . But I had to warn her, didn't I? The wound was fresh, and I could clean it, go to the gypsy camps and have them look after me. But I could never leave Gemma like that. Leave her to face them.
Not that they wouldn't find her eventually, but it was better warn her, let her run, give her a chance. . . But perhaps it was already too late. Perhaps they had already found her. Was this all in vain? Was she already dead? I couldn't bear the thought. It couldn't be true. I couldn't imagine Gemma, so full of fiery life, dead, never to tease me, frustrate me, drive me to the brink of insanity, then bring me back down, to the soothing smile I had diluted myself into believing was only for me.
Thoughts like that had died away with the arrival of Simon Middleton, the bastard. The rich fop a taken one look at my Gemma and. . . My Gemma. When had I started thinking of her as 'My Gemma'. She was in no shape or form mine. But, oh, how I would love that. For her to come to me willingly. To say she loved me, and truly mean it. Her love for Middleton would never dwindle my affection for her.
I was out of the woods now, and Spence was in sight. My eyes immediately flashed to Gemma's window, the one I could pick out from millions. The vine that I had used to climb ---Ah, those countless nights I would never forget--- was still in place, unmoved or changed by time. Things like that were unchangeable The light was on, but I saw no silhouette or whisper of a person in the faint candle light dancing in her window. That told me nothing, though.
I fell to me knees in desperation. The wound in my chest ached. My heart ached, and all I wanted to do was lie down in the snow and let life slip away, like unimportant sand through the fingers of God, straight to Hell. All hope was lost.
But I couldn't, not yet. I would save her, even if in my last act. How ironic, I thought bitingly. I had used to toy with the thought of killing myself, after my brother had died, after I had joined that damned brotherhood and then left it. Leave one Hell and go to another. Don't make me laugh.
I cried out desperately, for Gemma, only for Gemma, always for Gemma. Tried to grab her attention, like always. I choked, and blood pooled in the snow I had fallen in. I looked up, and saw Gemma's curtain rustle slightly, as if someone had touched it, in an indecisive move, unsure if they should open it or not.
I screamed again, this time no words, just pain. The curtains swung fully open, and I saw a flash of red hair before Gemma's face came into view. How beautiful she was, even now, in my solemn hour, I could appreciate that.
She paled. Her lovely emerald eyes widened at the sight of me, drugged with pain and love, and a delicate hand flew to her mouth. She looked as though she would cry at the sight of me, but I doubt she would ever cry in front of me, not even now, when it meant something. She was too strong for that. To strong, and wild, and free for any cage to bind her. Not even the bars of society could hold my rebel angel. She would always be free, and I pitied the man that tried to take that freedom from her. I had tried, and had learned my lesson soon afterwards.
I could hear them behind me now, reproaching, fast, and I was wasting time being a fool, gazing up at Gemma with a ridiculous look and a hole in my chest. ''Run!'' I screamed, but it had no volume, and I doubt she heard at all. I tried again, but ended up on the ground, choking on blood and tears. For I was a fool. For I was out of time. For all my promises, of love and devotion, and endless years of protection, meant nothing now. I was going to die. Gemma was going to die. I had failed, even in my final act.
