Page 3 of Blood and Roses

"Hey, I know you," Rosa said with a smile. "You were the woman the other night who was trying to read my fortune."

"Of course I am. Where are you traveling to?" she asked.

"Home, I suppose. My mother is unwell," Rosa answered awkwardly.

"You only suppose it's home?"

"It's notmyhome exactly. My mother is the housekeeper for a rich family."

"Which family?" the woman persisted rudely.

"You wouldn't know them. They are the old money types," Rosa said. "She works for the Vanes."

"Gwaed Lyn." The woman spat a ball of yellow phlegm on the train's carriage floor.

"You know it then."

"It's a cursed place. You're better off getting your mother out of there, girl. No wonder the dead are following you." The carriage door slid open, and an inspector stepped through. He frowned at the dirty woman.

"Tickets please," he said firmly.

"Here's mine," Rosa said brightly and then pretended to fumble about in her pockets. "Just give me one moment, and I'll find my aunt's ticket. I know I've got it here somewhere."

"Your auntie, you say?"

"Of course, she is my auntie," Rosa laughed. "My forgetful auntie who loses her ticket all the time."

The woman pulled out a Snickers wrapper and slapped it into the inspector's hand. "Here's my ticket," she smiled up at him with dirty teeth.

The inspector turned the wrapper over and handed it back. "Everything seems to be in order. Have a pleasant trip, ladies."

"How'd you do that?" Rosa asked once he had left the carriage.

"He's an idiot and doesn't see what's right in front of him," she replied with a huff. "You've got a kind heart, girl. Maybe that will be enough to shield you from that evil place."

"Gwaed Lyn isn't evil. It's just full of self-indulgent rich people."

The woman took off one of her dirty silver necklaces and pushed it into Rosa's hand.

"You did me a good turn the other night, so now I repay the debt. Wear it. It'll protect you," she got to her feet. "Remember, girl, it's not called The Blood Lake for nothing."

Then she was gone, moving about the carriage, shaking her cup, leaving Rosa holding the sticky pendant.

Hours later, Rosa got up to stretch her legs, the uneasy feeling in her chest growing the further north they traveled. In the tiny bathroom, she scrubbed the necklace with industrial pink hand wash. As she scrubbed, the ridges in the silver disc became the shape of a face surrounded by six wings. It was an odd trinket, but something in the old woman's eyes had unnerved her. Despite all the voices in her head telling her she was being a superstitious ninny, Rosa clipped the chain around her neck, tucking it into her sweater to sit coolly against her skin.

It was late afternoon by the time Rosa stepped off the warm train and into the freezing winds at Penrith. The working day had finished, and the station was packed with people and students staring at their phones. Standing soldier straight in the crowd was a tall man in a black suit and hat. He looked more like a bodyguard than a driver.

"Miss Wylt," he rumbled, taking her carry-on bag, "I'm Caruthers. This way, please."

In the car park, he opened the back door of a black Mercedes. "You'll find refreshments in the cooler bag should you require them."

"Thank you," Rosa said as he shut the door behind her. She settled into the deep seat as he moved silently through the streets and headed west on the A66 highway.

Rosa sensed her mother's handiwork as she opened the cooler bag and found a flask of tea, sandwiches, and freshly baked ginger cookies. Rosa sipped on the herbal tea, relieved to wash the taste of watery train coffee from her mouth, and watched the sun go down.

The radio was playing Bach's Goldberg Variations, and she felt a fresh wave of exhaustion.

"We are here, Miss Wylt," Caruthers announced, jolting Rosa awake.

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