Page 21 of Blackwicket
“As much as he’s underfoot, he might as well be,” William said good-naturedly. “But—no, Jack is the son of a house employee. He’s taken up a position as my assistant.”
William clapped the boy on the shoulder with some affection, but Jack remained stiff. He was a mop of a child, all lanky limbs he didn’t quite seem to control, topped with a crop of auburn hair he’d tried, and failed, to shove beneath his flat cap.
“Miss,” he greeted.
I managed to offer him a meager smile.
William nodded to Mr. Farvem. “Go with him, lad. Run your errand.”
Jack did as he was asked, clutching the box, and making a wide berth around me to the old gentleman, who guided him through a door behind the reception desk.
“He doesn’t know if he’s coming or going,” William said,then redirected us to the matter at hand. “Eleanora, I regret this is the circumstance that brought you back here from…wherever you’ve been.”
I pressed my lips into a tight line. I owed him no explanation.
“Fiona was a beloved member of this community.” His expression was stricken. “I take full responsibility for what happened.”
Here was the reason I was here in this town, in this morgue, and I took the opportunity to snatch at some scrap of truth.
“What did happen to her, William?” I asked, daring to reach for any familiar territory we shared.
He cast his gaze down to where the tip of his cane met the floor and the formality in his tone diminished.
“Your sister was a complicated woman. Secretive. She often mystified even me, and as you’re aware, we—” He paused, rethinking his next words. I no longer needed to guess whether the love affair of their youth had continued. “In the past year, she became more reclusive. She roamed the cliffs but avoided visiting town. A few days prior to Yule, when she missed the fête, I sent someone to the house out of concern. They discovered her on the porch.”
His voice grew quiet with the reverent hush belonging to death as he delivered the final blow. “It was a curse, Eleanora.”
I raised a hand to stop him from saying anything more, from offering details he might feel obliged to provide. I was aware of the condition curse rot inflicted on a body. Unchecked, it infiltrated the bone and marrow, devouring the essential components of the human soul, reducing it to a husk, devoid of all that had made it a person. When the body ceased being a solid vessel, the curse would move on, preferably to the nearest entity with any spark of magic: an animal, another person, or a house made living by the hearts that had loved and died for it.
For those unaccustomed to handling tainted magic, the threshold for the number of curses it took to empty them was low, but a Curse Eater, particularly one as capable as my sister, could face an army and survive the experience. At least, that’s what I’d once believed.
“I wish I could have done more for her,” William said, “but she had a habit of taking on far more than she was able to handle alone.”
He leveled his eyes on me, the emphasis of the last word a clear condemnation. The woman he’d once loved, regardless of how their story ended, was gone. And I, the sister who wasn’t dead, was the altar to place blame upon.
It was my fortune Mr. Farvem and Jack returned, the former with a sheaf of papers, interrupting the tenseness poisoning the air.
“I’ve brought the documents, Ms. Blackwicket, outlining the service at the Nightglass estate and dates.”
I could afford no more patience. I wanted nothing else to do with this mortuary or the people in it.
“That’s what I’d like to change. There’ll be—pardon me, William—no service at the Nightglass estate. I want her to be home, where she belongs.”
The undertaker opened his mouth to object to the significant reorder of plans already set in motion, but I couldn’t leave this wretched parlor until I’d asserted my will.
“Mr. Farvem.” Venom was poised on my tongue. “This isn’t a request. You have a legal obligation to me, and you will change the plans.”
William’s firm grip came to rest on my shoulder. In his palm, a current of energy pulsed, characteristic of the Nightglass family, adept practitioners of magic whose long-standing ties to the Authority granted them amnesty from the law.
Gooseflesh prickled along my skin, the lingering essence ofthe Drudge growing excited. I tried to retreat from the touch without revealing my urgency, but his grip tightened, and the curse grasped hungrily at his power. William’s expression darkened and he withdrew his touch, severing the connection.
My mother had taken pains to convince everyone Fiona and I were incapable of magic, that curse-eating wasn’t in our blood. Whatever he’d known of Fiona, he’d suspected of me, and now he could be certain.
When he spoke again, his eyes remained fixed on the undertaker.
“I’ll have a few boys from the house at your disposal, Farvem. They’ll assist with whatever you need to make Ms. Blackwicket’s wishes a reality.” It was clear he’d broker no argument.
With a defeated sigh, Mr. Farvem replied, “If that’s what’s necessary, I understand. I’ll need some time to prepare. Unfortunately, I have no appropriate area for you to view the body, Ms. Blackwicket, as all of our viewing rooms are in use.”
