The night sky was a handful of white gems tossed upon black silk. A reedy wind slunk through the undergrowth and all around me the spine-chilling sounds of the forest at night set my senses on edge—the creaking of trees, a distant howl, a rustle of small critters scurrying through the leafy floor.
I trudged up the incline, careful to keep the path looking natural and untouched. The narrow glow from my small flashlight bobbed in front of me, flattening everything to a dull yellow that contrasted sharply with the deep shadows. Small leaves crunched underfoot while I dug in deep, pushing my way upward. Leaves and scrawny branches scratched at the side of my face and fingers as I grabbed hold of bushes to help haul me upward. At the top of the slope, I reached a rock face smothered with lichen and moss. Its stony peak had been cultivated into a wild-looking garden, overgrown with grasses, ferns, and abundant ivy that draped down the sheer rock face like a curtain. Ivy that I'd grown there on purpose. The thick tangle of vines and leaves dangled in front of a cave opening and kept it hidden from sight.
My nerves were pinched and sore from the straps of my heavy rucksack digging into my shoulders. Stones and twigs pitted my kneecaps as I knelt down upon the uneven ground. Clamping the flashlight between my teeth I shrugged the canvas bag off my back and rolled my shoulders to ease the burning sensation in my muscles. The clips made a clacking sound as I undid them, and I flipped over the rucksack's flap before digging out the inner bag where I kept my kills.
An hour ago, I'd hurried to my bedroom and changed from my ruined dress into a dark tracksuit and hoodie, still fuming about Varen Crowther. I'd clicked my tongue and mentally shook my head at him. He had no idea at all who he was dealing with. Varen Crowther was going to rue the day he decided to blackmail me.
I'd grabbed my canvas rucksack and slipped my dagger into the side pocket before snatching a flashlight from a drawer and making my way out of the Servants' Quarters. I'd quickly made the decision to do what I normally did before the sun rose, while things were still chaotic and my absence wouldn't be noticed. I couldn't be confident that later on, I'd have the same opportunity.
As I'd dashed out of the mansion through one of the servants' entrances on the western wing, I'd felt the earth shift beneath me from immense strumming power. I'd watched in astonishment as a witch stepped out of the Hemmlok Forest with Master Sirro, and a moment later she'd transformed into an otherworldly white mist that rolled across the lawn, spreading outward and into the mansion. It swallowed everyone, including me within its powdery white world.
Mrysst.
A Horned God.
One of the Witches.
I knew the names of all Jurgana's sisters, and I'd innocently teased out from the Purveyor of Rarities as much information as I could—what they looked like, where they slumbered, and what kind of powers were peculiar to themselves. What the Purveyor of Rarities didn't know, was that I had to find one of the sisters and bargain with them in the hopes they'd perform the spell to break my aunt's dark curse.
As the fog bled away, I felt refreshed and rejuvenated and heard the startled, joyful cries from those sitting with the wounded. I'd been awestruck at what Myrsst had done for us—Unnatural Healing.
But there was no more time to waste, so onwards I hastened under the cover of darkness to race through the Deniauds' elaborate gardens and plunge into the Hemmlok Forest. I'd skirted just inside the treeline before disappearing within its thick gnarly depth. For the past hour, I'd emptied traps and snares of small forest critters, slit throats, and piled the plastic bag that lined my canvas rucksack full of dead rabbits, squirrels, rats, and ferrets.
Outside the cave, I rose and pinched the flashlight from between my clenched teeth. The ivy was cool and soft as I pushed my fingers through the leafy vines and swept them sideways so I could duck inside. As I stepped inside the cavern, the faintest brush of wild magic feathered my exposed skin, followed by a stickiness that clung to my face and limbs. I swiped away at the webbing from across my eyes and nose as a blood-chilling shiver slithered down my spine.
Years ago, I'd set a magical stone I'd obtained from the Purveyor of Rarities into the wall of the cave, near its jagged mouth, to trap what I bred in here.
My flashlight panned the inside of the cave and it was one big messy nest of spider webs.
My heart pounded loudly in my ears and competed with the ominous noise of chittering and tiny feet scuttling on rock and along silver threads. The sound swelled louder as sinister critters scurried for the mouth of the cave, right for me.
The bloodhound growled, low and vicious—the inner sound a protective warning.
Krekenns.
They were tiny, and spider-like creatures with long hairless limbs. There was smooth skin where their eyes should be, and their mouths were full of deadly teeth. The otherworldly critters hunted in great numbers, and their prey was usually the homeless. The mortals would be swarmed, bound, and dragged down into the tunnels beneath the city where the krekenns nested, and consumed alive.
They stopped a safe distance away, chittering and swarming over one another like a roiling mass of ocean waves. Not once had the krekenns ever attacked me. I didn't know if they recognized me as other or if the dark magic inside me kept them away with its bared teeth and snarls.
I reached into the bag and my fingers brushed fur, velvety pads, and claws too, as I wrapped my hand around the dead animals and tugged them out of the bag to toss them one by one. The limp, neck-lolling rabbits and ferrets broke through the webbing or got tangled up in it, and the krekenns, with their murky-green skin, descended in an excited surge of rippling bodies, to bind them up with silver threads much stronger than silk, more like adamere.
Emptying the bag of the rats and squirrels, I left the krekenns to feast and pushed my way through the ivy, the vines swaying back and forth behind me. Thick spider webbing had stuck everywhere and I spent a fair bit of time peeling it from my face, hair, and body. I crouched down and stuffed the plastic bag into the canvas rucksack, wiped the blood from my hands with a soft cloth, and tucked it away. Doing up the clips once more, I shrugged the bag over my shoulders. With my flashlight illuminating the path, I carefully made my way back down the incline and headed back through the eerie forest to the Deniauds'. Later on, when the sun had risen and then set, the day over with and the full moon rising, fat and bloated, to sit in the sky, my aunt and I would return to the cave.
I snuck back into the mansion, stashed my rucksack away, cleaned my dagger, and washed my face and hands with soap. Then I joined the madness.
Most of the activity was centered around the Banquet Hall which had been turned into a makeshift infirmary. The tables that had held food and drinks for the dance were lined with the wounded, now fully healed and sleeping on after Mrysst's ministrations.
"Tabitha!" a familiar voice cried out. Beckah was almost hidden behind a towering armload of blankets. I hefted half of them from her and we started passing them out to those waiting for their loved ones to awaken.
Weaving through the noisy throng, we hurried back to the linen cupboards, along with the Purcell sisters, and loaded ourselves up with more blankets. Just before we left the storeroom, I asked, "Who?" Beckah knew what I was asking.
As we made our back to the makeshift infirmary, grief pierced my heart with every name Beckah brokenly whispered. My throat grew thick and I blinked back stinging tears as she told me who had died and who else was missing, more than likely devoured in their entirety by Jurgana or her beasts. As I expected, most of the dead were guards or soldiers—cadets like Hilda—from our House, and I knew them all. I'd eaten with them, sat in the garden with a cup of tea and chatted with them, worked alongside them. We all were one family.
In a few days' time, we'd bury our dead and sing our laments as we offered their souls to Hazus, god of Nine Hells. We'd grieve and share stories of those who had passed on. Their family would mourn and we would too. House Deniaud would be shrouded in sorrow for a while to come. But life would return, teased out by the resilience of the children.
For the next few hours, I disappeared into a whirlwind of activity. The phone had not stopped ringing since word had gotten out about Jurgana. Outside the mansion came the consistent whirring sound of helicopters landing on the lawn and armed convoys arriving to escort the heirs back home, as well as provide additional transport for their servants. I ran from one end of the house to the other, sent on tasks directed by the Butler and Mr. Volkov, and even Mrs. Deniaud. I assisted Marissa, who was overseeing the team that was neatly packing the upper ranks' personal items and clothes into their Louis Vuitton suitcases to be later returned to their rightful owners. There were a few of the upper ranks that had declared they were staying on to help: the Lyon brothers, Rosa Battagli, and the Crowthers, and it seemed Irma Szarvas too. Though Irma wasn't actually down here helping. She had decided to remain in her bedroom. Downstairs we served everyone piping hot, comforting food Chef Markel and his brigade had quickly prepared. I made sure everyone was warm with blankets and hydrated with water and checked on Aunt Ellena every so often. My aunt had set up a creche of sorts in one of the side rooms near the Banquet Hall. She had cushions and blankets spread across the floor, where the children slept while their parents were busy assisting our House or were one of the wounded, now slumbering.
Hours later, the night sky lightened with dawn approaching. We'd respectfully covered the dead in white sheets, and their corpses were being carried to the holding cells beneath the Deniauds' mansion. The dead would remain there in cool darkness until they could be transported back to the House they served to be buried on their estate. I finished serving hot drinks and food for men and women working outside, one of them being Varen Crowther, who I pointedly ignored and perhaps purposely refused to offer food to, even though he was trying to catch my eye.
The predawn chill nipped my ears and nose and cheeks. I entered the mansion, closed the door behind me, and paused for a moment to savor the warmth inside. I still had a pot of coffee and plates of food, so I headed for Aunt Ellena's creche. Entering the archway that opened the room up to the hallway I wasn't surprised to see Markel already there, the smell of freshly baked pastries and scones floating in the air.
Dolcie and a few other girls were watching over the children with Aunt Ellena. The furniture had been pushed aside and a nest had been created in the middle of the floor with blankets and cushions. Children slept alongside one another, some sprawling, others tucked close to a sibling, a few fitful in their sleep. Other servants that worked with Aunt Ellena were entering the creche, washed and cleaned from dirt and soot, after snatching a few hours respite in their rooms. They quietly took the place of one another, settling in while the other girls left for a few hours of sleep. I offered them a cup of coffee and a choice of something to snack on.
While Markel served my aunt, I poured Dolcie a cup of coffee and left a plate of muffins and sandwiches on the small wooden table beside her. She sat on a couch looking peaked, but that could easily be construed as tiredness and strained nerves after surviving Jurgana. However, I knew the truth, and I suspected it had more to do with morning sickness, especially with the way she slightly cringed at the plate of food. "Thank you," she whispered, not wanting to disturb the little girl in her arms she was rocking back to sleep.
Both of us stared at the child in her arms. Dolcie murmured sweet nothings to her and petted her hair to soothe her. I wondered if Dolcie, like me, was wondering how her own child would look. Would it mostly share her features or Tomas's? Would be a little boy or a sweet, round-cheeked girl like the one in her arms. My heart squeezed for Dolcie. She was in a terrible position, pregnant while Tomas seemingly refused to do the right thing by taking responsibility and marrying her quickly. I had no idea what she was going to do.
The soft clinking of metal against porcelain drew my attention away. Markel stirred a teaspoon of sugar into a cup of tea for Aunt Ellena. They stood near the French doors and through the windows behind them the sky was a more bluish hue with the sun rising closer to the horizon.
My aunt hadn't rested. She'd tidied up her ash-coated hair as best she could and cleaned her face and hands earlier.
"Tabitha," Aunt Ellena whispered, beckoning me closer with a wide smile and open arms. I rounded the nest of children and stepped into a hug, pressing my face against her shoulder. She still felt frail and thin-boned, yet I could sense a vitality in the strength of her hug. I peeled my upper body from hers, scanning her face with a closer inspection, and a smile stretched across my face. Myrsst, it seemed, had done wonders for my aunt as well. Her complexion was no longer wan and weary-lined. There was a healthy touch of pink to her cheeks, and even her skin glowed brighter, glistening with a golden sheen.
My aunt ran her pinched fingers down a long length of my hair. I hadn't bothered to get a haircut for years, and the ends of my hair almost reached the bottom of my ribcage. "Your hair is so long now, we'd better give it a trim," she murmured. She tucked the strand behind my ear, then brushed the tips of her fingers down the side of my face. My cheeks were still chilled and, though her hands were warm, they burned as hot as a fire poker. She cupped my chin, her eyes narrowing on me and sparkling with mirth. "I think I'll knit you a new scarf and hat for winter. Something pretty, with a pompom."
I pulled a face, slouching and making a gah sound. "Aunt Ellena, I'm twenty-one. Maybe lose the pompom."
She laughed quietly and playfully tapped my nose. "You'll always be my little girl."
"Well, this grown-up woman is here to send you to bed."
"Tabitha's right, we're all snatching a few hours of sleep. There's plenty of us to rotate shifts and get the work done," Markel said.
Aunt Ellena pursed her mouth to the side, ignoring us both. Instead, she flexed her fingers, turned her hands over, and marveled at the difference she could see. I shifted to stand beside her and did much the same thing. Aunt Ellena's knuckles seemed less swollen and reddened. Her finger movements were agile as she trilled them like she was playing on ivory keys and bent them back and forth. They didn't seem to cause her pain either. She sucked in a breath and splayed a hand across her middle. Long blond eyelashes framed her wide green eyes, which shimmered with amazement as she half-twisted her upper body around to face me. "I feel re-energized, refreshed. I haven't felt this good in a long time."
"You still need to rest, even if for an hour or two."
Aunt Ellena's features pinched, clearly feeling guilty. I urged her softly with, "Everyone's doing the same thing. It's been a long night and there's a lot more work ahead of us. These orders came from Romain Deniaud himself. Everyone is taking turns stealing a bit of sleep. So off to bed with you. Dolcie and your girls will be here."
She opened her mouth to protest when I gave her my not-going-to-back-down face. "Markel?" I whisper-sang, hoping he'd provide backup.
His rough voice rumbled, "If you don't get back to your rooms, Ellena, I'll carry you there myself." And he winked before striding around the nest of children heading back to the kitchen.
Aunt Ellena's eyes flashed wide and her mouth parted slightly. Flustered, she touched a hand to her blush-stained cheeks as she watched his tall and broad figure retreating.
"You've been told," I said, digging my elbow lightly into her ribs.
Green eyes slid to mine. "Haven't I just." She rounded to face me, with a slight frown creasing a line between her eyes, and a steel edge to her gaze. "Alright, just for an hour or two, and then I'll be back to send you, Tabitha, to bed."
"Deal," I grinned.
I watched her depart and then sagged a little. Right now my feet ached, my stomach growled, and I wanted a moment of respite for myself. Grabbing one of the spare tartan blankets from a seat, I unfolded it and wrapped it around my shoulders. Snapping up a mini quiche still warm from the oven, I ate the deliciousness of eggy cheese and spinach, while pouring myself a cup of hot black coffee. I quietly opened up the French doors and slipped outside.
I headed around the side of the mansion to where the garden grew more wild and abundant with roses and flaxes. My breath puffed in front of me and my sneakers crushed dewy grass beneath their soles. I wanted to steal a bit of time by myself. It was wrong of me, but the Deniauds' private garden was the closest place to be alone and sort through all my conflicted feelings. The sun was just beginning to rise. I found a spot beneath a tree and watched the sky turn dusky blue like a distant mountain range, and gazed in wonder as the clouds were touched with pink and limned with violet. It promised to be a glorious sunrise, one you might wish to capture on film, but a photograph would never capture the beauty and wonder of seeing it in real life.
The muddy, bitter taste of black coffee warmed my throat and belly. Normally I liked tea, but I needed something with a bit of zing to keep me going. There were so many thoughts whirling around in my head, I didn't know which to pull apart first. Sink into the grief or rage at Jurgana for stealing the lives of the people I knew and loved, or marvel at Myrsst who had saved those seriously wounded. What choices Dolcie had left to her now that she was pregnant? How my aunt was full of vitality, her ails seemingly healed, and she even looked a decade younger. And Varen Crowther...the heir to a Lower House who knew most of my secrets and was blackmailing me for one night with him. And here, alone, I thought I could be honest and admit there was a part of me that was curious about what one night with Varen would be like. What I'd be introduced to, experience...
My thoughts abruptly split apart when I suddenly realized far too late that Master Sirro wasn't too far away.
I froze in horror.