Page 83 of Blackwicket
We walked together to where the Inspector waited, his expression somber as ever. An unsettling static energy radiatedfrom him, tension permeating the hall. Jack noticed it too and slowed.
“Alright, Jack?” Inspector Harrow asked.
“Tired is all,” he replied, glancing at me and moving past the Inspector with a new trepidation, as though seeing the man clearly for the first time. We both watched his departure.
“Something’s gone sideways,” Inspector Harrow said when the boy was out of sight. He kept his voice quiet, an attempt to keep the news from carrying, “Cora’s dead.”
Cora. A double agent with reassuring words and a self-deprecating smile, who’d been so willing to step in and help others handle undue burdens at the risk of herself. Thea had touched her with gentleness, worried over her when she thought she’d been in danger.
“Did she void?” It seemed the most likely event, given the strain William was putting on the Brom.
The Inspector didn’t appear eager to tell me.
“Her throat was cut,” he replied. Bile climbed in my throat. “They found her at the Vapors this morning, behind the bar. I expect she’d been there since last night.”
“Thea?”
“I haven’t seen her, but I imagine she’s not in a good way. Her and Cora’s involvement was a poorly kept secret.” There was an unexpected tinge of sympathy in his tone.
“Since throat cutting is a tactic of the Veil, is there a chance they’re the ones responsible?” I asked.
“Or someone pretending to be the Veil. The victim pool is too varied. Patrick Farvem wasn’t their enemy, and Cora breaks the streak of murders tied to those who’ve done you wrong. But beyond that, people have been going noticeably missing after visiting the Vapors. It’s causing panic. Tourists are trying to leave in droves, but the station can’t accommodate everyone. The cliff road out of town is frozen; passing is impossible.”
“Maybe William’s involved.”
“He wouldn’t shoot himself in the mouth by scaring off his base. He had some kind of showcase scheduled at the Vapors in place of High Tide on next month’s full moon. Dramatic fuck,” Victor muttered, glancing toward the stairs. “He moved it to tonight, and has Thea working double to calm everyone and entice people to stay.”
Poor Thea, shocked and grieving and forced to continue doing public relations for the Brom.
The delivery of the news triggered an eerie wave of energy from the house, which had been silent since Jack’s recovery. Now it moaned anew, and the Inspector’s curses responded. He winced in pain, leaning forward as if struck in the stomach. I considered offering comfort, but knew the consequences of physical contact. After a breath, he steadied himself, flexing his hand as if he had touched something charged with electricity.
I observed the amber of his eyes, the color filling in otherwise dark irises, and considered the possibility this was the result of Inspector Harrow clearing the blast zone before he lit the fuse.
“Do you have anything to do with this?” I asked, keeping my tone hushed.
He caught me in that chimeric gaze, which dipped briefly to my mouth, followed by a throaty noise that might have been a laugh or a scoff.
“Suspicion looks good on you, Ms. Blackwicket,” he said, raising his attention to the ceiling where the red stain of curses coiled like wood smoke from the cornices, towards the Inspector. “Despite my blissful time here, I’m still not familiar with the way the house works. Is this a typical experience?”
“No,” I said, staring down the hall where the daylight had gone gloomy and blue as dusk, which was still hours away. “Something’s wrong.”
A scream, frantic and piercing, shattered the air, already thick with dread.
“Jack,” I choked, sprinting with all the speed I could manage, realizing halfway up the stairs that the boy’s screams weren’t coming from his room on the second floor but from somewhere on the third. Inspector Harrow followed closely as we scaled the second flight. Upon reaching the landing, I noticed the attic door stood wide open, but the earsplitting howling wasn’t coming from there; it peeled from Fiona’s bedroom.
We found Jack huddled in a corner, something clutched tightly between his hands, pressed to his face to shield him from what perched vulture-like on the back of the demolished wardrobe. Auntie wrenched towards us, her mouth open, scarlet smog billowing forth alongside a high, grating wail.
On hands and feet, Auntie climbed down, prowling, her lower jaw popping as it shifted side to side, gnawing on air. The house had become a reverse beacon, pulling in light until everything around appeared to be collapsing, growing smaller. Finally, I recognized the creature for what it was, what it was capable of. My mother had labeled it our protector, but as with the other twisted things in Blackwicket House, its only purpose was to relieve its own damnation.
I carefully approached Jack, who’d stopped screaming and was releasing shaky gasps in quick bursts. The Drudge mirrored my movements, seeking an opening to attack, but Victor intervened, his broad frame shielding me. The creature halted, snapping its maw in fury, yet didn’t advance. Inspector Harrow was close enough to me that even in the unnatural gloom I saw the darkness pulse through him, poison spreading along his flesh, corrupt magic thick and noxious. It snagged at me but didn’t take full hold, preferring the prize of more fetid power it would find in Auntie.
“Victor,” I whispered, the sound overtaken by the snappingof bone and cartilage as it rearranged itself under Inspector Harrows skin, stretching and pulling at his shape in gut-wrenching contractions.
“Get the boy,” he ordered, his words a chasmic wreckage of hemorrhaged vocal cords, guttural and inhuman.
Sure of his ability to protect me, I took the last hasty steps to Jack, tucking my hands beneath his arms, murmuring words of comfort all the way.
“Don’t look,” I encouraged him, as he stood shakily, clinging still to the item in his hands—the small toy dog, ears rubbed smooth. Air lurched from my lungs, further contorted by the scrap of fabric Auntie had dropped from her clawed hand when she’d turned her attention to us.
