Page 108 of Blackwicket
The woman faced the fireplace, tattered pink day dress scorched at the hem, battered by magic that had wound it around her cursed form, golden hair tumbling free, ratted by the ordeal and lack of care. At length, she rolled onto her back.
My heartbeat ratcheted in my chest, kicking up a painful pounding that matched the wretched noise that escaped me as I saw my sister’s face. I pulled away from Victor, and he released me, recognizing her as I had.
I rushed to her, stumbling to my knees beside her. Our arms were around each other, her limbs so slender, her body reduced to little more than bone, and I kissed her cheeks again and again, for a beautiful, rapturous moment, not caring about anything she’d done, forgiving her for every horrible decision she’d made.
“Fiona,” I wept against her shoulder, smelling of honeysuckle and damp loam.
“Hi Ellie,” she said in a hoarse croak, the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard.
Chapter Forty
I could have held Fiona for hours, days, never asking questions, but she pulled from the embrace, sat fully, and I took stock of her. Her skin was sallow, the signs of curse rot obvious from the sunkenness of her cheeks, the softness of her collarbone.
“You’re Drudge?” I whispered.
“I am.” Her eyes glimmered in the faint light of morning. “Hazard of the occupation, I’m afraid.”
My face collapsed as I realized what she’d done for me. The Drudge I’d thought to be Auntie, who’d come to me in the hellish inferno of Nightglass Estate and taken the worst of William’s curse, had been my dead sister. Who wasn’t so dead after all.
“You saved my life.”
I sobbed, and she kissed the tip of my nose as she’d done often when we were children, her favorite way of showing me she was the big sister.
“Were you responsible for the fire?” I asked when I could breathe again.
“William’s flair for ambiance usually outweighs his common sense.” Speaking of William curdled her tone, her contempt palpable. “The candles were already a hazard, I only gave them encouragement. I didn’t know you were there.”
Her brows knit together in exasperation, as though she’d just remembered she was upset about something.
“Why didn’t you stay away?”
“If Victor is to be believed,” I said, hoping to defuse her consternation and discourage myself from crying again. “I don’t listen well.”
Fiona glanced over my shoulder to where Victor stood nearby, giving us distance for our reunion while positioning himself for an advantage if anything went wrong, a reminder of his inherent distrust. His defenses remained in place, but I could sense the dark energy roiling from him, still agitated from Fiona’s chaotic arrival. But there was more than Victor’s power brushing the hairs on my arms. Fiona’s presence was also detectable, sickly.
“Take some of my magic, Fiona.” I took her hand. “I can spare it. You look wrung-out.”
Fiona’s smile was indulgent, like someone who’d heard something critically naïve.
“Magic doesn’t help anymore, Ellie,” she said.
“But between us, we have plenty of curses,” Victor said impassively. “Maybe those will do.”
A wave of pain clenched Fiona the way I’d seen it take hold of Victor. Her skin became dappled in the crimson drench of the rising Drudge, then ebbed, leaving her catching her breath.
“Inspector Harrow,” Fiona drawled, on edge from what she’d endured. “How good of you to be preying on my sister in my absence.”
Victor responded with a hostile laugh.
“You two are familiar with each other?” I said, battling some bitterness over Victor’s withholding of this information.
“The good Inspector enjoys harassing women who want nothing to do with him.” Fiona’s falsely sweet smile dripped with venom.
“She’s talking about Thea,” Victor replied in explanation.
“Thea never told you about her connection to Victor?” I asked, surprised.
“I know all about it.” Fiona’s response was bitter, making it clear that she didn’t like Victor on principle. “But being what I am, I recognize another Drudge when I see it. No matter what your intentions were, Inspector, you made everyone’s lives here harder.”
