Page 48 of Blackwicket
We’d been taught the Fiend was a creature born of necessity, a monster made by magic to protect itself from those who’d enter its sacred home with curses clinging to them. Anddespite what I’d said to the Inspector, I believed the Authority’s fear of it was well earned.
Fiona had never expressed interest in the strange byway built by generations of Curse Eaters, where magic could be shaped with ease into anything a heart could think up. Like living in a dream. The first time she’d chosen to join me on an illicit trek, she’d made it two steps in before beginning to sob so fiercely she’d given herself hiccups.
How could that same person have navigated Dark Hall to steal children for the Nightglass family?
At length, I grew brave enough to reenter the room, approaching the decimated wardrobe. The toy puppy rested on top of the quilt, which peeked from the beneath the ruins. I crouched and nudged it aside. The embroidered name wasn’t visible, but it was clear in my mind’s eye.
Roark.
If my sister kept so many children, there’d be no need to embroider a single name, no purpose to keep a sole photo of herself and a small boy. I glanced up, my eye catching what remained of Fiona’s clothes in the half-empty wardrobe. A pale blue dress mirrored the meager light from the window, its beadwork shining.
Thea had instructed me to come to the lounge tonight.
I hadn’t decided to go. I didn’t trust the woman, not when she seemed so involved with William and so ready to put on a well-practiced facade. Not when she’d tried to taint me with a curse hidden in a sweet drink.
But if she had any information about what all of this meant, it was worth the risk.
At twenty ’til ten, I slipped away from Blackwicket House. I hadn’t heard Inspector Harrow leave, but the car was gone. It didn’t matter. He hadn’t warned me to stay in the house again,hadn’t made his threats. Whatever work he did in the dead of night was his business, and this was mine.
Along with the outfit I’d borrowed from Fiona’s collection, I’d added a more sensible coat, one that would shield my bare shoulders and chest from the frost of the night. Snow was falling, and it took me longer than usual to traverse the distance in satin heels, feeling ridiculous. Why Fiona even owned a dress that covered so little of her shoulders confounded me. But I bet she’d been stunning in it, and not as awkward as I.
I didn’t consider myself unattractive, merely uninteresting, a requirement of the life I’d chosen to lead. Flashy dresses, cosmetics, and elegant hairstyles were a unique risk I hadn’t ever mustered the courage to explore.
The sidewalk was busy as ever in front of the Vapors, and it required some bossy maneuvering to reach the narrow passage between buildings which I’d spotted from the crosswalk. I wasted a moment peering down an alley so narrow a broad-shouldered man would struggle to navigate it, then walked nearly the full length of the theater before the wall bowed, forming an alcove for hind lot deliveries.
As I emerged into it, I discovered I wasn’t alone.
Several men, some clad in waitstaff uniforms, leaned against the walls, puffing on cigarettes. Upon noticing me, a few stood straight, while others offered low whistles. The fact I was covered from head to toe didn’t dissuade them. I reacted with disgust and strode towards the side door, which was ajar, held open by a brick.
“What’s the hurry, gorgeous? Surely you got a minute to do something pro bono for us hard working fellas.”
“Alright,” I said, smiling wide, channeling the effortless charm my friend Magdaline possessed in spades, adding a sultry accent the dancehall girls in Devin favored. As much as I loathed to utter the words, it was my best bet of getting in without a scuffle.
“I’ll just tell William Nightglass I was late because I was enjoying myself in the grimy alley with… say, what’s your name?”
A scoff from the oldest of them, “The Principe don’t mess with the girls that come ‘round back, princess.”
“You sure?”
As if sent from the heavens, the door creaked open wider, and Thea James leaned out to find me standing mere inches away. Her makeup was impeccable, the white feather nestled behind her ear, fluttering in the icy breeze. Her wrap dress was a deep shade of red, with such a daring neckline that even my gaze snagged. The men adjusted their postures, discarding their cigarettes and straightening their shirts and jackets.
“What took you so long? You were supposed to be here hours ago!” She grabbed hold of my arm and as she was pulling me in, I regarded the flabbergasted faces and winked.
“Bye,” I said, sweet as spun sugar.
Thea paused inside the doorway and began yanking at the buttons of my coat.
“Get this off. God, I hope you didn’t dress like a damn librarian.”
I let her jostle the coat from my shoulders. After revealing the dress, she gave me a complete once-over, scrutinizing the blue silk sheath draped with a gathering of white chiffon, the hem ending at my ankles, generous slit climbing above the knee, offering both daring and ease of movement. The neckline exposed my shoulders and décolletage, which I’d left unscented in honor of self-preservation. Given the circumstances, I wasn’t eager to attract any more notice than what was required.
“When Fiona wore that dress, she looked like a goddess,” Thea said.
I flushed, touching the dip of the neck, self-conscious.
“If she could see you in it,” Thea continued, shoving the coat into my arms, “she’d be one jealous woman.”
The abrasive compliment hooked its teeth in the way Thea meant it to, with no softness or room for the recipient to question its sincerity.
