Page 84 of Blackwicket
Despite being torn, the lettering was recognizable.
Roark.
“Keep your eyes on the floor,” I instructed, even as I was trying to get oxygen. “Walk quickly, we’re going to the hall, then to the stairs. Move.”
He followed my instructions, but as we took our first step, the dark angel of Blackwicket House sprang towards us.
“Run!” I yelled as she slammed into the solid barrier of Victor. The bellowing that rang out behind us reminded me of when two mountain lions had brawled for territory in the woods at the edge of Blackwicket property, the noise unholy and vicious.
We emerged into the hall, but didn’t get far. Jack was yanked from my arms, his legs pulled from beneath him by the crushing grip of the Drudge. He fell face-first onto the hard floor, his forehead cracking against the wood. His screaming renewed as Auntie dragged him towards the open attic door. He clawed at the floor, his nails scratching and catching, his head flung back, wild eyes on me as blood poured from his nose from the impact it had made with the ground.
Auntie mounted the broken stairs, Jack’s hands clasping the doorframe, and I bounded after, lunging not for the boy, but Auntie, throwing my arms around her as if to embrace. She was solid and carried the scent of dust and peat, the toxic mist emanating from her filling my nose and mouth. My body prepared for consumption, but that had never been my intention. Instead, I unleashed my magic outwards, the powerful tide draining my energy and breaking the Drudge’s hold. But this wasn’t a simple transfer. The blast had misplaced Auntie’s curses, and they sought a place in the emptiness my attack had left behind. Even as I inhaled, breathing them deep, Auntie thrashed backward, pulling me with her as we crashed into the staircase, the rotten boards splitting, shards and splinters stabbing my skin. The Drudge released me, scrambling aside, only to collide with another monster head-on, the largest I’d ever encountered. Its humanoid form was as twisted as a vine-entangled oak, built of ashes, the soul of a fire-scorched forest made tangible. They clashed ferociously on the narrow staircase, the walls trembling with their forceful blows, while I pulled Jack to his feet.
The attic door swung shut on its own, almost hitting us, the impact echoing. The ceiling above trembled, the battle thundering for a few moments more before ceasing. In the span of one of Jack’s sobs, it became eerily quiet, shadows retreating in favor of the afternoon light, which resumed shining through the latticed windows.
I spared a moment we didn’t have to assess Jack’s nose, already bruised, the bridge split, two rivulets of blood running down either side. My next words were meant to be a balm, to calm him with the safety of knowing he no longer had to lie, that he was with someone trustworthy.
“It’s over, Roark,” I whispered, taking his face in my hands, our eyes meeting. “I know everything, and it’s going to be alright.”
“I’m not Roark!” He screamed, yanking at my hands, “I’m Jack! Roark is dead! He’s dead! I don’t want to be dead too, leave me alone!”
He struggled, then all at once, became still, calling, “Thea!”
I assumed this was hysterics, crying for someone familiar, but with a last shove he broke away, running into the outstretched arms of Thea James, who stood a step behind William Nightglass at the top of the stairs.
Horror rooted me to the spot. The house had let them in.
“That,” William said, with a manic gleam in his eye, his smile broad and satisfied, “was quite the display.”
Chapter Thirty-One
“William.” When I found my voice, it was sticky, dry, clinging in my throat like a bur.
“I can tell you’ve taken care of Jack well, aside from thisunfortunateinjury,” the man’s mouth pressed into a thin line as he regarded the boy’s broken nose. “At least he’s hale and hearty on the inside, and that’s what matters. Bodily wounds heal.”
The snake grinned at me again. “Most of them. Take him downstairs, Thea.”
I turned to Thea, alarmed and pleading. Dressed in a black crepe shirtdress, she held Jack to her as a mother who’d thought her son to be dead might, shining eyes conveying everything. Her impeccable makeup couldn’t hide the bruising on her cheek, the cut on her bottom lip, both a few days old and angry. Whatever her connection to the boy, she had him back, and she wasn’t about to let him go, even if it meant cooperating with William Nightglass.
She turned to help Jack down the stairs, a fresh red stain from the boy’s blood on her collar. My magic was drained, but I would use my hands if necessary.
“I’m not giving him to you, William.” I seethed, approaching, but he lifted his cane, pointing the tip at me, no longer a blunt gold cap, but sharp as a bayonet. I recalled how skillfully he could use it and froze, a storm of hatred brewing in me.
“If you harm that boy, I’ll find you when you least expect it, and I will rip your throat out.” I meant every word, already imagining the feel of his cartilage in my teeth, the crunch, the tangy iron taste of blood. My magic heaved.
“Like Fiona did to my father?” He asked, eyes narrowing in amused interest, watching as understanding dawned on me. He was enjoying himself. “You Blackwicket women love to go for the throat, don’t you? Is it a kink? I bet you have some unimaginable ones.”
His crudeness did nothing but encourage my loathing.
“Fiona’s not a murderer.” I knew this wasn’t true, but the reality was too difficult to accept.
“I was there,” he hissed in a flare of animosity, not inspired by Fiona’s act but by my rejection of the truth. “Your precious sister was responsible for Grigori’s death. She thought no one would ever suspect her if she used the Veil’s favorite method, and she knew I’d keep her secret, because I’d encouraged her violent habits. They benefited me. I knew what she was capable of. The things I could tell you about her. Oh, it would curdle your stomach. She was sodelicious.”
He was goading me, hoping to slip his fingers into the seam of my anger and tear.
“What are you planning to do with Jack?”
“I want to give him a life worth living.” The lethal tip of his cane brushed my chin. I flinched back, my retreat satisfying him. “Thea’s quite attached to Jack, I’d never take him away.”
