Page 83 of Tales of a Monstrous Heart
What had I done? The phantom sting of my true power remained, a slight trembling in my limbs. Knowing the magic in my blood was already hungry for more freedom. To hunt and avenge from what it had found in the wood.
‘You’ve survived worse than this,’ I reasoned under my breath as I pressed my forehead against the cold glass.
No matter how much I wished to wallow, it wouldn’t solve anything.
The mud on my boots was beginning to dry and crumble onto the worn carpet. Then I noticed how much of it was clumped against my skirt, how torn and filthy the fabric was. I stripped off my ruined clothes, slightly horrified to notice the bodice of my dress was so torn my corset had been visible the whole time. No wonder the voyav was grinning. I shuddered as I got into the small, lukewarm tub beside the hearth.
There was a lump of brown soap on the side, along with a rough washcloth. I used it until my skin was pink and the water turned murky with dirt from those ruins. I winced as I sank beneath the water to wash my hair. My temple was tender and aching, along with the rest of my body. It had been too long since I’d used my true strength. Since I’d tested the limits of my body. Since I’d allowed myself to be who I truly was, to access that part of my nature.
Murderer. I shivered in the cooling water, knowing I couldn’t hide there all night I got out, using the rough towel to dry myself. I’d only been left with an ill-fitting nightgown that must have belonged to a guest a few decades before, judging by how frumpy it was. The lace yellowed with age.
Not wanting to suffer any further humiliation of trying to put it on, I rummaged in my bag, reaching deep beneath my notes to find my loose training garb instead, and the spare underthings I carried just in case.
I pulled on the trousers and knotted the tunic, then sat before the fire to comb the knots from my hair with my fingers, not even allowing myself to contemplate what came next. How angry Emrys was, whether William was okay, what Alma would say or who on earth the mysterious voyav had been.
A demon from long ago, a creation of the Old Gods will, a story. An impossibility, and yet, all those things seemed to be meeting at the same point. Right here in this old rotting house.
Too many things to consider, and I didn’t have any remedies in my bag for any of them. No, I simply had to wait for my fate.
A creak coming from the corner of the room turned me sharply to take in the small wardrobe. I didn’t usually fear spectres, but in an unfamiliar location the prospect of an uninvited guest turning up didn’t sit well with me. Another clatter came, louder this time.
The doors of the wardrobe rattled, the wood squeaking in protest. The latch creaking, unable to open.
I lunged forwards, wrenching the doors open, only for someone to come tumbling through them with a familiar head of dark curls and bright green eyes looking up at me in surprise as they sprawled across the floor in a mess of skirts.
‘Alma?’ I asked, bewildered by the sight of her on the rug as she jumped to her feet, arms around me instantly.
‘Thank the ancestors you’re all right !’ she snapped, pulling back to strike my arm. ‘Bloody listen to me next time you menace !’
‘Ow !’ I exclaimed, barely having a moment before she pulled me into another embrace.
‘You’re a pain in my arse,’ she seethed against my shoulder, her grip so tight it threatened to squeeze all the breath from me.
‘I’m sorry.’
‘As you should be.’ She pushed out of my hold with an annoyed sigh, turning to consider the room. The lecture I expected didn’t arrive, probably because she was too disturbed by my current accommodation. ‘This room is abysmal; I’ll have to bring over a cleaning enchantment to sort it out.’
Her now-mortal eyes came back to my face. ‘Help me with your things. Since we’re going through the pretence of you being a guest.’
She turned her attention back to the wardrobe, reaching inside and lugging something towards the entrance. From where the back of the wardrobe was supposed to be, instead there was the strange glow of a portal entrance. A large, battered chest with fabrics trying to burst out of the wooden confines came tumbling through.
‘These aren’t mine.’ I frowned, but still reached for the handle to help her pull it through, dropping the monstrosity onto the worn carpet.
‘They’re the gowns William found; he wrote down some incantations to help me alter them.’ She sighed.
‘Why do I need gowns?’ A horrid feeling had begun to seep through my chest.
‘William mentioned something about a dinner,’ she continued, unbothered by my clear distress at the idea, as she popped the lid of the trunk and began to pull out swaths and bundles of extravagant fabric.
‘I don’t need …’ I began but realised it wasn’t important to argue right now. ‘How is William?’
‘Emrys was dealing with him.’
Of course he was, probably telling him off when all of this wasn’t his fault.
‘I should go and check on him.’ I tucked my wet hair behind my ears.
‘Dressed like that?’ she scolded, her eyes flaring, pupils lengthening as a furry pattern appeared on her cheek.
