Page 63 of The Secrets of Roan Island

“She doesn’t say that.”

“No. She says,‘Seamus loves the scroll work of my design on his vest. I will do the same for his new belt’, which suggests it. This woman cared about the man she was working the leather for. She was willing to put in extra effort.”

“She could have just as easily feared him.” I know how fear will make a person strive for perfection, approval.

“Perhaps.” Ruby closes the book and moves away. “But if I hated the man I was making such an effort to dress, I certainly wouldn’t have cared about carving or stitching a design he loved to make it special.”

“You think she loved him?”

For some reason, my heart suspends in my chest as I wait for her reply. Such an innocuous and fair question, only coupled with her sharp intake of breath, the color that climbs her cheeks, it does something to my insides that feels simultaneously dangerous and impetuous.

The bell rings, and fear breaks the moment. My brothers are already gone.

“Take it.” I point to her glass on the table. I can convince my father I’m taking my meals down here, but not that I’m drinking from two glasses. I harbor a small hope it’s Mrs. Darning and not Hammish, but even if it is, I can’t be certain she wouldn’t tell him.

Ruby grabs her cup and darts for the room she hates. I don’t follow her this time, because I already hear my father’s booming voice. I snatch up the bottle of rubbing alcohol we keep nearby for this very purpose and depress the dispensing mechanism. The gears click and whir to create the misty aerosol that floods the room, overloading it with a chemical scent. My heart slams against my chest thinking of all the things my father might do if he finds Ruby here.

Fuck. Fuck! I never should have let her stay. I should have forced her to go with my brothers this afternoon. I hear the creak of the door as Ruby shuts herself in. It’s an awful sound, and I hate that she’s in this position, that I’ve put her in this position, but there’s nowhere else that’s safe for her to hide. And I need to keep her safe. I can’t explain how desperately I need to protect her. It’s all consuming.

My father appears in the doorway just as I grab my wine. It’s then that my eyes fall on the sweater draped over the back of Ruby’s chair. It’s the beautiful pale pink of a rose. A rose with thorns that could pierce right through our deception.

I force myself to meet my father’s gaze.

“Well?” he says, raising an eyebrow.

I set the cup on the table.“Well what?”

“Don’t be singular,” he snaps. His hands rest on the back of a chair at the opposite end of the table from me. His nostrils flare, accompanied by a brief look of disgust. “You’ve been sequestered for well over a week. Has your inane experimentation wrought any new conclusions?”

“Unfortunately, no.” I take a bite of bread, feigning indifference to the man who has the means to crush me like ripe fruit, but my hearts are a riot in my body, fear and desperation becoming the driving forces of my own will. It’s a dangerous combination, and I know it won’t help me hide her.

“Good thing a new batch is coming in then, yes?” Hammish’s smile is sordid as he casually flips through the journals.

“At what cost?” I ask. “We know it will only kill them.”

“Because they aren’t strong enough!” Hammish shouts, his hand coming down on the table with a loud bang. The books jump with the force, and thump into new, haphazard piles away from him. “Don’t get soft on me now, boy. This is the only way forward.”

I look up from the books and for the first time in my life, I see my father, truly see him. This is a desperate man.

“It’s not the only way.”

Hammish stands, moving around the table.

Despite my best efforts, my eyes flick to Ruby’s sweater, then back to him as he walks slowly toward me.

“Are there other options?” He stops at the chair with the sweater and places both hands on it.

My mouth dries out. “We can find another way.” I repeat myself with less conviction as my mind struggles to remain connected to our conversation. “I’m going through the journals again for something I might have missed.”

Hammish’s fingers close around the sweater, and he slowly picks it up, bringing it to his nose.

I know he can smell her. I can, even from here. I should have known the alcohol fumes wouldn’t be enough to mask her. “I took it from her room,” I say before he can jump to a conclusion of his own. “Before she left.”

His eyes are blown as his nostrils flare, then his gaze slams into mine. He snarls, showing his fangs. “Where is she?”

“Home, I would guess.” I pretend nonchalance. I need to sell this. “I liked her,” I admit. “She surprised me.” I push away from the table to stand. “I should get back to work. This venom problem isn’t going to solve itself.”

My father’s black eyes move from the lab back to me. He’s grown, his body filling in with Mavarri strength.

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