Godspeed

Chapter 23

I found myself with more questions than answers after my discussions with Marielle and Penn. The mystery gnawed at me night and day, even as my love for Quinn continued to deepen.

I watched him go through his paces, saw how he tended to all in his charge, and I refused to believe that there could be anything so dark or deeply disturbing in his past that I could love him one whit less.

Now I only wanted to know what that history contained, so that I might find a way to help ease his burden, if I could. He had sacrificed much and risked everything to care for all of us, especially me, and I wanted nothing more than to help bear the weight of his own pain.

He seemed, however, entirely determined to keep that pain under lock and key. There were times I wondered how a human could tolerate such emotional distress, but then I didn’t believe that he was completely human and thought that explained a lot of the mysteries about him.

Perhaps he really was much more ghostly creature than man of flesh and blood.

There were, after all, times I would have sworn he appeared out of thin air, moving from one room to another in the house without use of the standard doors or even the windows or balconies as points of access.

This night, the doctor had been called to visit Jib. The hour was late. Schuyler and Penn slept as I paced my room, alight with nervous energy. I adjusted the curtains, tidied up all the trinkets on the vanity, fluffed and fluffed again the pillows on my bed.

I stoked the fire and examined the mantle for dust, but found Schuyler’s meticulous nature shone through again; there was not a speck upon it.

As my inspection of the space continued, I found that a painting on the wall, the one I had admired so in the shop and which had mysteriously appeared in my room the following evening, was hanging slightly askew. Instinctively I straightened it, and to my surprise I discovered that the panel in the wall behind it was actually hollow, and with the right leverage and very little actual strength it could be moved aside.

I grabbed a candle and lit it, shining it into an open space the panel had exposed. Its light revealed a very narrow door, and an even narrower staircase.

I almost expected the steps to give beneath my weight when I tried the first one, but found them to be solid as any thick wood floor in the house, and as I tread them they made no sound.

Just a flight below my room I found another door, and I considered my intentions carefully as to whether or not I should open it. I came to the conclusion very quickly that I was only doing this because I desired to help Quinn, and that reason gave me the boldness to continue that no other could.

I promised myself that if it were locked I would not search for a key, but turn away and continue down the steps to see where they ended up at the last. If the handle turned, however …

The handle turned.

A rising swell of panic washed over me. What if it was Schuyler’s room and he was sleeping inside? Or Penn’s? How would I explain where I was and what I was doing? I could hardly claim sleepwalking. Even if I had not been turned into a nocturnal creature by the doctor, I had never shown tendencies toward it before and the tale would be utterly unbelievable.

I finally pushed my fear aside; after all, I was doing this for Quinn. If I got caught I would tell exactly what I had been doing: I would tell the truth.

The door creaked as I opened it; a menacing sound, and one I realized I had heard before. When I had questioned Schuyler as to its origin he had simply replied that the floors were old, and prone to complain.