RISING (#2, of Crows and Thorns)

Chapter 57

And it shut me up.

His chuckling finally subsided, and he looked much more relaxed as he spoke my name. It alighted from his lips as if he should know it, and perhaps he did. "Tabitha Catt." He tilted his head to the side with a curious look. "You lost your mother when you were a child."

I nodded. My tongue was thick and swollen from talking too much with a dry mouth.

Master Sirro did know me. I expect my story had been wide-swept across the Houses. But it was surprising that he remembered something from so long ago and about someone of so little consequence—a mere servant.

"Remind me again—who were your parents?" he asked, shifting his weight.

"My mother was Asta, and my father, Jasper Catt, died before I was born. He was a footsoldier for Lower House Malan." One of the few things I did know about him, as my aunt didn't like to talk about him very much.

Master Sirro's gaze glided over my face and became thoughtful, and introspective, a curious nudge to his eyebrows. I remained still as death, barely breathing as he gently traced a single finger down the bridge of my nose to my lips. The tip of his finger tugged at the soft flesh of my bottom lip as he continued downward to then pinch my chin with a thumb and forefinger. He tipped my head this way and that, staring at me.

This time, I allowed my eyes to slide sideways to hide from his intense golden eyes.

I almost flinched.

Master Sirro was so wrapped up in trying to figure me out, he didn't realize my aunt was standing near the mansion, swaying gently like a branch caught in a breeze as she stared unblinkingly right at him.

Fear wrapped itself around me tighter than the Horned God's dark magic. I was terrified Aunt Ellena might try to intercede and feel the full wrath of his might.

It was a split second later that I realized that my aunt wasn't quite herself.

Her features were slack and her limbs were lax, hanging limply by her sides. Her head was cocked and her green eyes had pinprick pupils. It wasn't my aunt—it was that thing.

As Master Sirro's entire focus was honed on me, his power, those silvery strands that rippled around shrubs and trees and poked through the leafy canopy to stroke the sky, also spread out behind the Horned God. Threads of power whorled and whirled and, as if curious, began to stretch outward to where Aunt Ellena stood. A single shimmering strand crept toward my aunt.

It happened fast. So fast that I could barely take in the details.

My aunt's hand whipped outward. Her hand wasn't human—it was a black-tipped talon. She slashed and severed Master Sirro's power, a singular strand right in half. Snatching the silver thread from the air, now with human fingers, she shoved the dark magic into her mouth and chewed with thin razor teeth to swallow the magic down with a big gulp that bobbed her throat.

Aunt Ellena's eyes suddenly glowed like quicksilver, just before they returned to green.

I'd never witnessed anything like it before.

And when the Horned God suddenly realized something wasn't right, or perhaps felt what she'd done, too late, far too late, his head snapped to the side. His amber eyes narrowed as his gaze shot to the very spot my aunt once stood.

The spot was now empty because my aunt was gone.

He stormed away from me.

His dark magic violently roiled like a tempest of fury and exploded outward, stabbing and poking and probing the garden and space by the mansion.

Thrumming tremors rocked the earth and rattled glass windows.

Immense power hummed like a powerline and my hair began to slowly rise around my head.

He turned a full circle, his taut body dark with menace. Fisting his hands, he loosened a loud deadly snarl of frustration that split apart the air, hollowed my ears, and vibrated through my bones. I would have fallen to the ground and cowered in mind-crushing terror, except I couldn't. His power still bound me to the tree.

Finally, Master Sirro's furious gaze returned to mine, his wrathful expression faltered as he blinked, realizing that he still had his magic pinning me in place. He released me and let go of the last remains of his rage. The strands of magic drifted away as he took a step closer to my trembling figure with concern. "My apologies, Miss Catt," he said, a hand splayed across the lapels of his navy suit jacket as he canted his upper body forward.

Shaken, I didn't know what to say, how to respond, why he'd even done all of this in the first place. Thankfully, he hadn't uncovered my truth, that I was other. Nor had he fully sensed and caught my aunt, that thing, stealing from him either.

I bowed and, when I rose, Master Sirro inclined his head with a small smile and strode off. His Familiar followed behind, staring straight ahead with a vacant look on her face, not even glancing my way.

Oh my freaking gods...

I sagged against the tree trunk, sucking in panicked breaths, trying to calm myself. It took a couple of minutes to pull myself together again. Once I did, my mind speared to my aunt. And that thing. Worried for her, I fled into the mansion, heading straight for the Servants' Quarters and to our bedroom.

I burst inside and stumbled to a swaying halt. My aunt sat in her favorite rocking chair, her knitting needles flashing as she neatly wove the creamy thread of wool and knitted—click-clack click-clack.

Surprised at my sudden appearance, she gave me a self-deprecating smile. "I know I'm supposed to be sleeping, but I couldn't resist."

Tugging at the ball of yarn by her feet, she carried on knitting—click-clack click-clack.

Aunt Ellena was back to being herself. But what had happened? That thing had carved off a piece of Master Sirro's power and consumed it. What would that do to my aunt? Or more importantly, what did that thing want with it?

My aunt paused in her knitting, her features twisting with concern. "Are you alright Tabitha?"

I swallowed and nodded, plastering a smile upon my mouth. "I'm fine. I thought I'd get some sleep too." I didn't bother changing out of my clothes. I moved to our bunk, slipped off my shoes, and clambered up the ladder.

"I'll try to knit quietly," she said as I pulled a blanket over my cold, shivering body.

"It's okay," I murmured, lying my head down on my pillow, watching her. Her knitting was one of my favorite sounds, and usually urged me to sleep, but this time I kept my eyes slit as if I were asleep but watched her carefully.

The first rays of sunlight leaked into our bedroom, gilding my aunt's delicate body. She hummed softly as she rocked backward and forwards, the wooden chair creaking as she busily knitted away—click-clack click-clack. She glanced upward, her cheeks rounding with a smile as her eyes met mine as if she knew I was staring at her between almost-closed eyelashes.

Aunt Ellena blinked.

My pulse quickened. Because for once, I wasn't sure if I had seen what I had. For one horrifying heartbeat, I was positive that thing had looked out from behind her eyes. But surely it couldn't, not with the sun rising and light streaming in through the bedroom window.