Page 25 of Lucy Undying

The Queen tapped one metal-capped finger against her goblet as a summoning bell. “This land is mine. I am safe, and all the girls in my care are safe, too. No one can harm us. And now that you are here, no one will harm you, either.”

She smiled at last, and that was when I should have known I’d stepped into a trap.

25

London, October 4, 2024

Iris

I eat dinner with Rahul and his handsome husband, Anthony, while Elle fiddles with the stove.

“I’ve seen one of these stoves before.” Elle’s voice echoes. She’s bent over, head practically shoved inside. “I never had to use it, though. But I bet I can figure it out. I have an affinity for old things.”

I want to help her, or even just watch her, but I can’t get up from the table while there’s any remaining food. “Oh my god, Anthony, this is all so good.”

He beams. He’s a big dude, tall and broad and thick, but so warm that his bigness translates as comforting instead of intimidating. “Thank you. I wasn’t sure about your spice tolerance, so we went easy.”

“Embarrassingly low, but I promise I’m working on it. Are you sure you don’t want some, Elle?” Soon there won’t be any left. It’s the best butter chicken I’ve ever tasted, sweet and savory at once, the chicken perfectly tender. I soak up more of the sauce with the rice and scoop with my naan, shoveling it all in, not even trying to be a little dignified.

“I ate before I came. And I have so many food allergies. Milk, nuts, eggs, corn, soy, rice—it’s a whole grocery list. I basically can’t eat anything I don’t make myself.”

“If you want to try, though, give me the list,” Anthony says confidently. “I can work with it, I promise. My sister’s allergic to shellfish, so we’re careful with cross-contamination.”

Elle’s head is fully inside the oven now. “Deal,” she says, her voice echoing metallically.

Rahul leans back in his chair. The supplies they brought me are piled in the corner. I’ve already paid them, but I feel like I still owe them. Rahul and Anthony had no reason to go out of their way to be nice to me, but they did. Already, I’m hatching a devious plan to thank Rahul and Anthony and stick it to Goldaming Life.

“I’ve never seen a fox behave that way,” Rahul continues, still fixated on the fox. Foxated. “They can be pests, sure, but never aggressive like that.”

“And it was so big.” Anthony holds out his enormous hands to demonstrate.

“Could be rabid.” Rahul frowns toward the front of the house. “You should call Animal Care and Control.”

I gesture to the useless brick on the table. “Would if my phone had any service here. Anyway,” I say, desperate to change the subject, “I’m sure it’s just territorial. It’s had this property to itself for a lifetime. Generations of its fox ancestors have lived and died here. We’re the invasive species, not it.”

Anthony slings an arm around Rahul. “Don’t worry, love. I’ll protect you on our way back to the car. I’m the only fox allowed to bite you.” He snaps his teeth and Rahul boos, but can’t hide his smile. There’s an ease of affection between them that makes my whole core ache with hollowness. No amount of delicious food could fill that void. I want to keep watching them, to soak them in. None of the adults in my life modeled supportive and loving relationships. I’m always drawn to people like Rahul and Anthony, as if proximity to healthy love will infect me with the ability to experience the same.

“Maybe it was a fox that jumped through the window, not a wolf,” I say, before they notice my besotted gaze.

“A wolf?” Anthony asks. “What wolf?”

“He didn’t grow up around here. I never told him the story,” Rahul says.

“Let me!” I clap my hands, turn on my show-person voice. It’s perfectly pitched and crafted to command an audience. All those public speaking classes my mom made me take are good for something, at least. “One hundred and thirty years ago, a wolf escaped from the zoo. Unhappy with merely running away or hunting unfortunate house pets, it prowled through the neighborhoods, searching. Seeking. Until it found this house, jumped through a bedroom window, literally scared a woman to death, and then, mission accomplished, went right back to the zoo.”

Anthony looks appropriately horrified. “That’s quite the field trip.”

“Do we think the Victorians trained wolves as assassins?” Rahul scratches his beard thoughtfully. “Wait, was that the Victorian era? Edwardian? I can’t keep them straight.”

“Where are you from, Elle?” Anthony asks. “I grew up in Redbridge. East London,” he clarifies for my sake, which is useless because I have no idea what part of London we’re in now anyway.

We all look at Elle and she straightens, leaning against the stove. Her slouchy, soft sweater has remained remarkably white, but there’s a smear of ash along her cheekbone. I want nothing more than to cross the kitchen and wipe it away with my thumb. Maybe linger on those apple cheeks. Maybe trace my thumb down and press it against her lips. Maybe…

Elle gestures vaguely toward the neighborhood around us. “I’m from here.”

“I must ask,” Anthony says, “and I apologize for how rude it is, but if you’re working at the museum, you’ve at least finished university, right? How old are you?”

Elle’s lips twist in a sly smile that transforms her face from cherubic to painfully sexy. “Not a teenager, Anthony. But yesterday I was wearing an oversized jumper and a cap, and the café server offered me a children’s menu.”

---